speaking up

January 23, 2019 By HallieZ 1 Comment

1,000 Band-Aids

I need one thousand band-aids today.

Wait.

1,000 isn’t even close to enough,, and I can feel it all around me today.

A band-aid for you Ted, in your ripped pants exposing your body to the elements. I put coffee and some donuts in your hand and I listen to a story, but I know it isn’t enough.

A band-aid for you, angry woman, who screamed at my kids and their dad Saturday at the pro-life march. My daughter’s heart was with you, but how could you know? She’s sobbing in my arms because she knows you’re hurting, for some reason, and she’s only 12, and she doesn’t get to choose where she goes. But she loves you.

A bandaid for you, rich lady. You have everything, it looks like, to most of us, but as I dust another shelf that doesn’t need dusting, my heart pounds in time with yours, and I know it’s never enough, and it doesn’t satisfy in the way that you need.

I don’t just need band-aids.

I need the antibiotic ointment ones.

Scratch that.

I need the ones with the fucking cure for all the world’s problem.

I want a miracle drug on those bad boys.

I don’t just want to put a band-aid on you, I want to wrap you up in gauze, douse you in saline solution, and sing you to sleep. Hold you in my arms. I don’t care if you smell like the street and the garbage and the pain, I want you to somehow know you are beloved.

I need the biggest bottle of lavender oil in the world and a hot tub the size of earth to hold your pain. To soak you in love.

I see you.

I love you.

June 20, 2018 By HallieZ 5 Comments

Father’s Day, huh?

So. It was Father’s day a few days ago.

I did what I have always done, helped my kids prep and wrap their gifts for their daddy.

I sent him a text message that said Happy Father’s Day, hope you all have a good day.

I cried, because this isn’t how I ever thought our Father’s Days would be.

Once I got my heart through all that sorrow/mess, it was time to think about MY father.

That sucked even worse. So I cried more.

My father sent me an email when I filed for divorce that said I wasn’t allowed at his home on special events or holidays.

I mean. I did stop by on mother’s day and give my mom flowers, I told myself, so maybe I OUGHT to stop by on Father’s day anyway. And give him, uh. I don’t know. Like. Jerky or something?

But I didn’t WANT to do anything. I didn’t want to call him. Or drop of jerky. Or anything.

Not just because he said I couldn’t, but because he broke my heart.

I had scheduled cleaning job that day, to help keep me busy, and I cried as I ran the vacuum, and raged as I scrubbed the toilet. I had flashbacks, all day, of things that had happened that were not ok.

I remembered conversations and I remembered the agony of finally realizing my dad was only going to empower and embolden my abuser, not protect me.

I asked the Spirit what the gift was.

I asked the Spirit what was being asked of me.

– HOLD THE PAIN WITH THE BEAUTY –

Pain with the beauty?

What the hell.

There is only pain.

Images started coming to mind.

Reveling, the first born.

The love, the bond.

How well I remember holding my first daughter for the first time.

Small. Warm.

Nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my daughter.

A diaper change.

A first bike ride.

All this and more, a world awaiting.

So thank you, Papa, for the gift of attachment.

Thank you for holding me against your skin and letting me know your scent.

Thank you for carrying me on your body.

Thank you for changing my diaper.

For letting me feel the grass against my skin.

Thank you for letting me explore the world and know the feeling of dirt.

Thank you for letting me witness the birth of my siblings.

Bringing me into a place of connection with them.

Thank you for telling me stories of the natural world.

A teacher by destiny.

Thank you for being gentle with animals.

For teaching me to hold the plants with respect.

Those first 5 years cemented a character that I give thanks for. Every. Single. Day.

I don’t know how to hold the beauty and the pain in the same place and not explode.

But I am trying.

It’s right here, beating in my chest.

April 15, 2018 By HallieZ 2 Comments

#Proverbs31IRL

A virtuous woman, who can find? She is far more precious than minimum wage.

She is worth $25 an hour (according to the judge, but her paycheck has yet to be informed).

The heart of her multitudinous children (who ARE a blessing from the Lord, dammit!) trust her, and will have no luck convincing her to buy them an iPad.

She does them good, and does not yell at them, all the days of her life

(well at least, like, 95% of the time, you know, when she remembers her meds).

She is like the ship of merchants, and overstocks her barns with food from Costco.

She rises while it is yet night and drives her children to school while simultaneously weaving, patching hand-me-downs and doing her magical work-from-home minimum wage job..

She considers buying a field, but realizes that her food stamps probably won’t transfer to real estate.

She perceives her merchandise is profitable, and puts it on her to-do list to start an Etsy shop in 2025 when she’s done doing the laundry.

She dyes her hair with pink, and is clothed with strength and dignity, and she sure as hell ain’t got time for stilettos.

Her lamp goes out at night, but there are charities who get her electricity back on.

SHE is not afraid of snow, but unfortunately her school district is, so FUGGETABOUTIT! You can sleep when you’re dead!

She looks well in her house in her track pants and her badass tiara, and does not eat the gluten of fatness (unless she just REALLY deserves a doughnut).

She opens her mouth and drops truth bombs like it’s nobody’s business, and she smashes ALL THE PATRIARCHY!

She laughs at the time to come… because she knows she’s gonna prove wrong everyone who told her she wasn’t enough.

She was taught she needed a husband to define her, but the voice of Wisdom was a woman crying out in the streets, and she chose to let Wisdom’s voice define her instead.

Her children rise up and call her blessed, and her Father in heaven EXPLODES with pride, praising her:

“Many women have done excellently, but YOU surpass them all.”

Charm is deceitful, and financial stability is over-rated, but but the virtuous woman who loves the Lord kicks ass.

Give her her child support, and let all the people stand in awe of her amazon strength.

By Deanna Fraser & Hallie Ziebart

I have had enough. Enough beating women over the head with this fictional woman. Enough telling us there’s only one way for us to be awesome. Enough skipping over Jael and Abigail and Deborah and… Enough making the single mamas feel like second class nothing. Enough.

Can you share your IN REAL LIFE Proverbs 31 moments with me?

#Proverbs31IRL

Or link up a blog or story in the comments!

Or tag a friend and brag on them!

I was ranting to my pal Deanna about this the other day, and she wrote this version of Proverbs 31 for me. It is with her kind permission I share. And say… go check out her album. Deanna was a lifeline for me when we both lived in China. And both made it out alive. Broken, but alive!!!

AND… Some links to some stuff that might help you out if hearing Proverbs 31 talked about like this makes you want to rip me apart. Or, if just hearing the phrase made you throw up in your mouth a little bit.

Things you might not know about Proverbs31

A Smart Dude on Wisdom

March 25, 2018 By HallieZ 2 Comments

TOO MUCH

Be quieter

Hold your tongue

Just listen

You. Are.

TOO LOUD

You don’t need to cry

You are just being emotional

Enough already.

You. Feel.

TOO MUCH

You asked for it.

You knew this would happen.

It’s RIGHT.

Your Grief.

TOO MUCH

Too Free.

Tone it down.

Flirting. Misleading.

Your smile.

TOO MUCH

You.

Who you are.

Your desire.

Your dreams.

The passion.

Your energy.

Your truth.

Your love.

Always. ALL WAYS.

You are.

TOO MUCH

We. Are. All. Done. With. You.

March 17, 2018 By HallieZ 2 Comments

Yes, I Changed

I look out the window at my desk.

It is a view to die for.

I listen to this song.

The words beat in my heart, I dive into the wonder of Creation outside my window.

So many times, he said to me:

You’re the one who changed. I am the same. You weren’t supposed to change.

That wasn’t the deal.

Out my window, the trees look like they are clapping their hands. The winds are high.

I see the sheen of the buds, just under the skin of the trees.

They are about to break out. It’s going to happen overnight. I can tell.

Everything is rising.

Everything is being called up.

What can the buds do, but answer, and bloom?

I feel the weight and power of the river.

It cannot be stopped.

The current is strong and it remains.

Where would it go, but to the ocean?

Sometimes faster.

Sometimes slower.

Everything rising.

The Canada geese alight.

They fight.

Water splashing, the geese are rising.

They are being called upward and outward.

Where would they go, if not north?

Yes.

I changed.

I mean, I didn’t, and I did.

I had taken it for granted.

Daughter of the land, child of the seasons.

I thought that was what we all did.

I thought that was what we would do together.

The call to my soul was everything rising.

It was buds that could do nothing but bloom.

A current that could only go faster.

It was a bird in flight, who could not be caged.

I changed.

A girl became a woman.

A woman grew children.

A body stretched and rebuilt.

A heart wept and was healed.

Things were seen that could never be unseen.

And yes, I changed.

I changed.

Watching the trees clap their hands wasn’t enough anymore.

I had to clap with them.

Feeling the ocean dance around my bound body made my heart scream.

I had to break the ropes and dance in the ocean.

Where could the seed go, but toward the sun?

Where could the heart bend, but toward love?

I struggle to let go of what was, and what wasn’t.

There was only one way for me to grow.

That was toward LOVE.

Upward.

Outward.

Blooming.

Alive.

Moving.

Changing.

YES,

I Changed

What I’m Writing