Careful girl.

This fort Rob and I found on the Beach a few weeks ago... someone had been building it steadily little by little for who knows how long. Inside was cosy with a fire pit dug in the middle with logs for seating.Treasures that had washed ashore were hung on the walls... It was like Swiss family Robinson, any kids dream fort, that could tuck away maybe a dozen folks around a campfire and guitar. i was drawn to this little fort and i wanted to play with the shovels and buckets that were tucked inside. rope that washed ashore held this great log room in place... i was struck by the un-permanentce of this permanant structure.

Looking at this photo today reminds me of the fort i tend to build around my heart... little by little... using things that have washed apon its shores, things that drift in and out of my life.. i use the rubbish to build a fortress with barbed wire words and phrases.

When i feel threatend i escape to this place... i wrap myself in a bandages worn like a sweater, to keep me warm in my woundedness. barbed wire words are Braclets on my breath. i sit and peek through the gaps in the walls provinding me a window at the storm swirling inside of me.

Where is God in my fortress? why have i not allowed him TO BE MY FORTRESS? why have i tried to create saftey out of chaos? is it.. or will it ever be possible? no. simply that.... N-O. not if i ignore God in it.

God has to be my saftey, the flowing fabric i drape myself in for warmth and to sheild my wounds has to be his holiness that drapes me. the rubbish i had used to secure my walls needs to be replaced with his gentle hands, water to my soal are his words of saftey in the storm that rages in my heart. only his comfort can make me brave to walk away from the Fort. maybe one day i will no longer go there. maybe one day i will accept grace first and heal in the forgivness of his wounds.