Saying Goodbye

This week marks the anniversary of my divorce, and per usual, I find myself feeling reflective.  I think about sitting in an office surrounded by people waiting for me to sign what had become my life reduced to some pieces of paper, wondering why I was crying and needing tissues.  However, unlike many other times, I find myself reflecting in a bit of a different way this time.

This week, we said goodbye to our Sunday school teacher.  We’re sending him and his family off to a new venture they’re starting in a different city.  They also happen to be basically the only friends I’ve made here in more than a year, save a former coworker whom I see occasionally, so this goodbye was doubly hard for me.  A few weeks ago, I had dinner with the family.  While we watched the kids play outside, I said to my teacher, “I never thought I could have one Sunday school teacher who was so great at combining philosophy and humor with the truth of God’s Word, but you’re actually my second one.”  His wife said something like this to me, “Well, you never thought you’d have one or two, so who knows:  maybe you’ll have a third!”

Since then, as I’ve prepared for my last visit with them, my last Sunday, my last goodbye, I’ve realized:  “goodbye”s are so hard and no fun, but we’d never have them if we didn’t have “hello”s.

If we never had the fantastic friends who make us laugh in the midst of heartache or send us encouraging notes just when we need it; if it weren’t for the teachers and coaches who inspire us to work hard and make something better of ourselves; if we didn’t have children who make us do things we don’t want to do to provide for them every day; if there weren’t pastors and small group/Bible study leaders who encourage us to be more like Christ, we’d never have to part ways with anyone.

Although the end of my marriage was completely devastating for me, and I was blindsided by all the trauma that followed as results of it, I can say with absolute certainty:  I wouldn’t trade the lessons I’ve learned since those events transpired.  I can never repay the ways I’ve been blessed or number the miraculous times I’ve seen God provide.  I wish that I wouldn’t have had to say so many goodbyes in the last few years, but I would never trade all the hellos God has given me.  I can’t imagine my life without the incredible people placed in it; each one I believe, hand-picked for me by the Almighty, loving Father.

The Dark Side of Single Parenting

I value honesty.  I always have, but since I went through a difficult divorce and all that followed, I came to love it even more.  The people at the church I began attending when I left my old one taught me about honesty within the church family and how it allows for a much better sense of community.  The openness with our struggles allows us to pray for each other more specifically, meet each other’s physical needs on a more practical level, and experience God’s grace in amazing ways.  It is for that reason that I’ve decided to write this.  I’m not looking for pity; but rather I want to give you some insight into what I and probably many other single parents you might know face/experience.  Perhaps this will help you know how you can pray for and minister to them, even if they aren’t as open about things as I am or even when they don’t ask for help.

I know that I’m very blessed to be physically close to my parents and have a great relationship with them, but I never wanted to be so dependent on them at age 30.  This is especially true when it comes to raising my daughter.  I’m so grateful for my parents’ willingness to help with babysitting and homeschooling, though, because that allows me to continue the dream I had of homeschooling her even though I can’t do it myself.

I know that being unemployed for nearly 4 months earlier this year was nerve-wracking and concerning.  I got a great tax return and depleted my emergency fund which helped, but man:  if there was ever a time I wished I was in a two-income household, that was it!

Sometimes, I tire of defending myself.  I know my daughter hears me explaining (and already knows) that she should obey and respect me because I’m her mother, but I often think it would help to have a reminder coming from someone else. J

Although I appreciate the sentiment behind it, it makes me somewhat sad when people talk about my being both parents to my daughter.  I’m not; I can’t.  She needs a dad, and she doesn’t have one.  That’s heartbreaking to me, and I pray God’s grace can help cover that!

I find myself now a “member” of nearly every group that people stereotype and badmouth, but I never wanted to land in any of them.  Please choose your words and facebook memes carefully:  not all of us wanted to be divorcees or receive government assistance.

I know lots of people, even my friends, might think I use the “single mom” card as an excuse, but it’s just the reality of my life - just as you might talk about not coming to an event because your husband has to work or your infant needs to go to bed early.

It is very difficult for me when my dating/married friends brag on facebook about their significant others, then comment on my posts about being single with something like “God loves you!”  Here’s the truth of it:  I’m glad your “other” is awesome!  God DOES love me! But sometimes, being single just stinks.  And remember, I’ve been in the awesome.  I do know what I’m missing.  I ache for it.  Almost daily. And you were single once, too.  Try to remember how lonely it gets and how hard it is sometimes.  Although your intentions may be incredibly honorable, the written word can come across as patronizing.  God is more amazing than I will ever be able to fathom, but my heart longs for the human companionship that He created me to enjoy.  Some days, I just want to vent about that.

I know that despite the absolute devastation I feel about Mamie’s death, I had an incredibly blessed few days with my family.  I will never forget that time!  I also know that I felt I was suffering silently because it was days before what would’ve been my 10^th wedding anniversary, and I was mourning alone while all the other adults were comforted by their spouses.

I am all for girl power and describe myself as a conservative feminist, but it’s true:  God didn’t create women to have to bear the burden of being the head of the household.  Some days, it’s just too much.

Overall, MK has an easygoing spirit and heart willing to serve.  But, like all children, she is a sinner and sometimes it shows.  Sometimes when it shows, I’d give anything to give someone else a turn at disciplining.  I know I don’t always do it best, and it’d be nice to have someone else’s input.  God is teaching me a lot about walking away, cooling off, and controlling my temper.  I’ve spent many a minute on my bed sobbing with my Bible open while I prayed, not even to a particular passage, but just to have the Word open.   I’ve got millions of miles to go.

I hate going places alone, and I miss having a lover’s hand to hold or someone to kiss goodnight.   I miss having friends, any friends, to hang out with or sit by in church.  I love texting and facebook, but sometimes it is really hard having that as my social life.

I now find myself with a broken-down car and having to try to save the money to get it fixed.  I also find myself with a basically permanently injured shoulder that is continually aggravated by working and sleeping every day.  These daily frustrations make me wish I had someone to come home to and talk about it; someone to help pay for things; someone to drive me to work who lived in the same house.  They also make it difficult to attend my church on a regular basis, which is another thing that I know affects my daughter.  It feels so unfair that my health problems or issues I have no control over can also keep my child from her community of believers.

So, are you depressed yet?  Do you think I’m a big baby, a complainer?  That’s okay with me.  I’ve been called worse by worse people. J  Or maybe I’ve brought to mind someone you know.  Maybe a single parent who could use your help.  Could you take them a meal?  Babysit for a couple hours?  Spend a little time visiting at their house or go with them to take their kids to the park?  Do you have the financial resources to be a blessing to someone who is too proud to ask but desperately needs it? Would you take the time to get the address of a single friend (with no kids) and drop them a card in the mail or take them to lunch? We have a God Who is exceedingly capable of providing every single need, but He so often wants us to be part of it!  I was married for six years and had struggles then, too.  I know that single parents aren’t the only ones who get depressed and need encouragement.  I’m just writing from my personal perspective.  Perhaps you know someone, in any scenario, who you can encourage today!

Face not Embrace

Hello, old heartache, familiar friend.  Tisn’t been long, but has been longer than before.  I must say, I’ve come to expect you and am no longer as shocked by your appearances.  I now know you’re not an enemy to be feared but rather a part of me, a part of life, and I shall treat you as such.  I choose to face you, but I will not embrace you.  I will not allow you to control my day or bombard my thoughts.  This doesn’t change the depth of pain or the sorrow I feel.  The ache of unfulfilled dreams and the longing for something more, something better, still tug at my heart.  My innermost being still cannot comprehend the tragedy you represent, and my brain cannot process the changes that have come because of it.

There are many who seem so far ahead of me in the healing process – how I long to be farther than where I am!  So many days I feel like I am all alone.  Yet I see in my life and heart the progress I have made, by God’s grace, and I’m humbled that He’s never let me down or let me go.  He has used you to teach me so many lessons, and I don’t think I would trade any of them.  Yes, I often have thought I would rather not see you so much or ever, for that matter; but I know that you bring with you the peace and presence of my Father in ways that I could never have imagined.

I’m so grateful to know that I don’t have to live with the stigma of depression or loneliness, for it is a part of life, for some people more than others.  I don’t have to be ashamed or embarrassed of what my past holds or the hurt it has brought me, but rather I can talk about it.  I can expose you - the ugly part of my life - and perhaps, bring comfort to someone who is living with their own ugly.  Maybe a forgotten soul or someone who has never been allowed or encouraged to speak up will know that it is okay to recognize pain and to feel it. 

You aren’t a good friend, and you’re no fun to be around.  But, you are a real part of life; a part that is so often hidden or ignored, which I believe only strengthens your resolve and gives you power you don’t deserve.  So I will face you, not embrace you.  I will not tremble when I feel you coming.  I may dislike, even loathe you, when I see you.  But I will face you head on, knowing that I have God on my side; and He will face you with me, as He has always done.

Hello, old heartache, familiar friend.  I feel you fighting me today.  I will face you but not embrace you.

6,001

A couple days ago, I was notified by facebook that one of my friends had “liked” a sponsored post – a quote by a company that pays to have their posts seen and that several hundred or thousand other people have liked.  I often bypass these posts, ignoring them much less “liking” them.  However, this was something I actually agreed with, so I stopped long enough to consider giving it the thumbs up.  That’s when I saw it – the perfectly beautiful, even roundness of how many had liked it before me: 6,000.  In less time than it takes you to read this sentence, I realized that I could quickly click the button and watch it change before someone else did the same.  After all, hundreds more were probably reading it and preparing to click their mouses (or is it “mice” when referring to computers, also?) at the very same second!  So, to satisfy my desire to see it change knowing that it wouldn’t stay that nice round number for long, I clicked the button and watched it change to 6,001.  Of course, within seconds, it shot up to 6,022 then over 6,100.  I was so grateful for the split second decision I made, because yes, I take pleasure in little neurotic things like that.

In fact, I take things in lots of neurotic things – symmetry, patterns, smoothness, straight lines.  I love to watch home improvement or decorating shows where they arrange photo frames in a crazy shape on the wall or put some really abstract piece of art on the wall.  However, I’ve tried it at home, and it hasn’t been very successful.  I’ve branched out a little in my fashion choices to a few asymmetrical tops or skirts cut on the bias, but it is rare.  I am known for buying bracelet, earring, and necklace sets that are identical.  I love jewelry and am learning how to accessorize without being “matchy-matchy,” but let’s face it – 20-something years of a habit is a lot to break.

I love to be around people, but I also really like to sit on the couch in my pjs eating and watching tv.  I feel accomplished when I have a clean house, but I am by no means winning a Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval!  While I’ve been unemployed for nearly 4 months, God has been speaking to me about a lot of issues, but this one especially lately – He has been talking to me about being thankful for the character traits/habits I have that I so often fight as sins which can also be useful.

While being lazy is certainly not generally a desirable quality, I’ve found it useful when fighting countless illnesses or multiple-day migraines.  I certainly get cabin fever and feel tired of being sick and in bed, but it at least takes me a couple days to get to that point.  My love of watching tv and dvds has served me well when spending hours upon hours in pain, trying to distract my mind from the insomnia and being bed-ridden that goes with that.

More than once, I’ve been grateful for the planning and organizational skills God has given me in packing for a move or a trip.  These neurotic tendencies, as some people describe them, have also helped me in various office settings where I’ve been employed.  And for sure, these come in handy being a homeschooling mom.

The last thing I’d like to mention today is that I talk too much.  Yes, I’m aware of it, for those of you who were considering setting up an anonymous tip line. J  And although I certainly need to learn when to be quiet and control my mouth, I know that part of my personality allows me to make friends easily.  It has allowed me to form deep bonds with people in various settings, and I hope someday will allow me to become a speaker/minister should God see fit.

There is nothing deep or revealing about this blog.  I just want to encourage you to look for the things about yourself that can so easily become stumblingblocks/sins or even the traits you just may not like, and try to find ways to use them to benefit you and others.  Turn those negatives into positives, and use them for God’s glory rather than letting Satan use them for your demise!

Flattering God

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”  Though I’ve heard this line many times, I’ve honestly never thought of it as a positive thing.  Though it certainly could be, I’ve most often heard it used in a sarcastic way or with a negative connotation.  It certainly seems that someone could imitate things we don’t want them to, and thereby actually be unflattering to us.  And let’s be honest:  that “negative” imitation is probably what happens more often.  Or at least, it is probably what people happen to see or notice the most.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine got to attend a Christian writer’s conference.  We joked before she went about her carrying around a copy of her favorite writer’s books in case she “happened” to run into the author and found the perfect time to ask for an autograph.  I said, “What could be more flattering to an author than to know that you liked her book enough to carry it with you, even if it was just to get an autograph?”  Then I began thinking, “How flattered would God be if we carried His book around, looking for a chance to get His autograph (mark on our life)?”

While I’m certainly not suggesting that Almighty God has a “need” to be flattered like we humans might in our vanity, I do think He is worthy of high praise and every good deed we can do to honor His name.  I believe if anyone ever had a right to be flattered, it is the most holy Abba Father.  With the pride and approval of a parent, He, as the Ultimate parent, looks on us with favor and wants us to do well.  In making good choices and living righteously, we bring glory to Him; and although we can never give Him His due, shouldn’t we strive to give Him as much glory as we possibly can in our time here on earth?

How happy must God’s heart be when those of us who claim to be “fans” of His show that to others by dedication and loyalty!  The Bible has been described as the best history book, a guide to medicine and science, a roadmap for life, and the key to answer all our problems; while it is all these things, it is also one of the most important ways God communicates with us.  It is the epitome of a self-help book – guidance from an experienced Source, tips for coping with whatever struggles you may face, and encouragement to be and do better abound within its pages.

While physically carrying your Bible is beneficial to your outward appearance, reading it transforms you from the inside out.  Allowing God to autograph your life, signing His name ever so gently to your thoughts, actions, and attitudes is, I believe, the sincerest way to flatter the Holy, Holy, Holy.

Jesus Calling

I received the daily devotional “Jesus Calling” for Christmas.  I was excited because I had heard a lot about it and knew several friends who recommended it.  Neither I nor the lady who gave it to me could’ve known that just days later, I would lose my job and begin what feels like just one more year of challenges.  We couldn’t have known that I would be sick for literally almost the entire month of January – going from the stomach flu to bronchitis to type A flu with strep throat to a kiddo with the flu.  During this time, we discovered the truly flexible nature of homeschooling, as my daughter spent many days on the couch watching tv and entertaining herself while I lay in bed ill.

Over the last two months, I’ve questioned why God won’t completely heal my migraines or give me a clear direction regarding employment.  I’ve been frustrated with not knowing how things were going to get paid or how long we’d be able to keep our home and car.  I’ve ached to see God fulfill the dreams and desires that I believe He’s given me, and I’ve felt crushed under the weight of being alone as I’ve watched friends deliriously happy and in love.

I’ve wondered why, after a shell-shocking divorce, difficult custody battle, move from my home, and increasing migraines, I’d lose my job and be forced to wait.  “Can’t I get a break?!” 

I’ve seen God provide in unexpected, amazing ways (as He has done many times before); I’ve seen Him provide at “the last minute” or “just in the nick of time” (believe me, I know these are not coincidences); and I’ve seen Him “not” provide; or not yet, anyway.

I’ve marveled at how quickly MK learns things and remembered what fun it is to be in control of her schooling and watch her mind literally grow as she embraces new concepts and facts.  I’ve beaten my head against the wall (well, almost) as I’ve asked “Why did I want to be home with her all day, every day?”

I have struggled with ongoing health issues, financial worry, and emotional roller coasters; I’ve been embarrassed and aggravated when people post things on facebook about “lazy people on welfare or food stamps” and wanted to scream “Some of us literally don’t have a choice!  Some of us really do it to feed our families!”  I’ve fought depression, something that so many people think is made up or is an excuse for people to be sad or withdrawn.  I have felt somewhat bothered by the “unsolicited advice” regarding migraines, though people have great intentions, when I really just wanted someone to hear me complain.  I have wondered why so many tips haven’t worked for my particular health situation.

I have heard God speak to me in quiet moments, down deep in my bones, and beg me to lean on Him and rest in His sovereignty.  He has proven again that He loves me and knows best and will provide what I need, but only when it is His time.  He has reminded me that He walked with me through my divorce and led me to a (church) home; that He protected MK through the custody battle and worked favorably on our behalf; that He moved us close enough to my family that they could bring us food or babysit MK or take me to the ER when the pain was too much; that He brought us to a new church after more than a year of searching; that He could provide for us even when my daughter asked, “How are you going to pay for the house without a job?” and I told her I didn’t know.

I am reminded that I’m a better mom than I’ve ever been and although I fail continually, I’m truly more aware of my sins than ever before.  I am humbled that He died for me and cares enough to daily provide moments of sufficient grace for the grace needed in every moment.  I believe that, more than ever, I want to follow Jesus and lean on Him, though it absolutely scares me to death.

Perhaps above all, I hope that one day, God will fulfill the dreams He’s given me; and that those dreams will bless others and glorify Him.

Beyond Hope

1 Corinthians 15:19

If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.

I can’t imagine life without hope.  I can’t imagine living in misery and not even knowing it, being unaware of my hopelessness.  Each time a challenge or trial comes, great or minute, I think and often say, “I don’t know how people live without God, without hope that Someone is in control.”  As much of a control freak as I am, I’m becoming more and more grateful that I am not in charge!  I don’t have to know, see, or understand it all; and I definitely don’t have to be the one worrying about it all! 

Perhaps the only thing worse than heartbreak is watching someone you love experiencing heartbreak – you can’t fix it, change it, or make it better.  And even if you could, would you?  Having been through tough times, growing and changing, learning of God’s faithfulness, would you go back and change them?  Would you prevent someone you love from experiencing heartaches if you knew they would be better because of them?  If you could see the past and future, if you knew every plan and thought, would you prevent hurts?  Would you keep everyone from everything bad ever, even if it made them better, stronger, more humble, more loving, more compassionate? 

Paul uses the word “hope” with such ease and yet, with a complexity that begs further inspection.  What is it about hope that makes it so great?  What is it that draws us to itself and pulls us through tough times?  Personally, I’m beginning to believe it is so much more than the hope itself.  Maybe there is something beyond hope.  What is beyond hope?  What could be deeper, stronger, more inspiring?  How about Almighty God?  Omnipotent, omnipresent, immutable, faithful, sovereign Creator of the universe, caring about you and me!  Seeing the past and the future, knowing each of our thoughts, wiping our tears before we cry them, giving us the ultimate in hope.

Whether you are in a valley or on a mountain; whether you love the holidays or wish they would end already and stop coming every year; whether you are continually surrounded by loved ones or have never known what it’s like to love and be loved – I have good news!  There is hope!  And if you know Jesus, there is beyond hope!

Four Years and One Saving Grace Group Later . . .

Four years ago, my world crumbled.  Every dream I had was shattered, and everything familiar became tainted.  I was devastated, blindsided, shocked, and angry.  I began a journey I never wanted to take.  These steps felt like miles of walking with no end in sight.  I was forced to make choices that no one should have to make, and I made feeble attempts at explaining to a 3-year-old child why her world was shaken and couldn’t be fixed.

I began to search, desperately, for a home.  I needed a place to go where I didn’t feel judged or outcast, a place to start over.  I decided to turn to the place where I’d attended the concert so many months prior; the place where I’d sought counseling alone, because I didn’t know what else to do.

This church had a Wednesday night Bible study for single parents.  Oh gosh!  That’s what I was now, doomed by the choice of someone else.  I felt as though Satan and every one of his demons laughed at what a mockery I’d become – pastor’s kid, granddaughter, niece, born and raised on church staff; virgin who saved herself, even her first kiss for marriage; woman whose ultimate dream was to stay home, raising her children and supporting her husband.  THIS was the life I knew and wanted, and for a time, had.  Suddenly, life had no meaning.  It was in tumultuous uproar, day in and day out.  I could not think about all the things that had to be done and decisions that had to be made.  But I knew one thing – I needed to go to church, or at least try.

Although for months, I existed only in a physical body as if I were detached from myself, I went.  I attended the services, Bible studies, activities.  And even when I fought to be cut off from the world and life and people because the pain was TOO DARN MUCH, they surrounded me: relentless in their pursuit driven by love, determined to reach out even when I pushed them away.

This was it – the kind of camaraderie I had heard and read about and seen in Christian-based movies – but had never truly experienced before now.  This was a place where I experienced Grace embodied in physical beings, a powerful supernatural experience.  This group and congregation welcomed me and my daughter with open arms, divorce and all.  They picked up our wounded bodies, carrying us from battlefield to battlefield, amidst grueling bloodshed and deafening screams.

And then, one day, we began to walk on our own.  I was able to stand, to take my daughter by the hand, to make another difficult decision and literal journey to a new “home.” 

The past four years have been more horribly devastating and hellish than I could’ve imagined; a reality as disgusting as any producer could concoct.  These years have also been some of the most fulfilling, rewarding days of my life, as I have become a better Christian, woman, and mom than I ever would’ve been without them.

This is to thank those at CRBC who loved and supported Mikaela and me through the last few years and to remind them that we will never be the same.

“Time passes like a moment.

Moments fleet away.

Scars left by time creep up as a shadow,

As dark as ever they were.

Hope shimmers in the distance,

But closer than before.” - LS

Shoes

I’ve recently been watching “TV Guide’s Countdown:  The Top 25 Oprah Show Moments.”  I love countdowns.  Even if it is a subject or genre in which I have no interest, I’m always curious to see what was chosen as #1.  I usually either love it or hate it.  I’m usually flabbergasted (THAT is what they thought was #1?!) or pleasantly surprised (Good choice!  Definitely a great #1!).

Last week’s episode featured as one of the top moments an episode of the Oprah show when she and a Holocaust survivor visited Auschwitz concentration camp, considered the most deadly:  nearly 1.5 million people died there.  One of the short clips they showed was in a room at Auschwitz where millions of shoes are piled and encased behind glass.  I literally felt vomit rise up in me – this brief scene was sickening, unfathomable.  After a moment of silence, the survivor said, “Each of these shoes represents a life, a person who lived.  For some, it was their only pair of shoes.  See that red shoe there?  Probably a dancer.”

This touched me, especially because we often hear about walking or putting ourselves in someone else’s shoes.  Just as those shoes represented the lives lost, “walking in their shoes” represent a life lived, perhaps with great struggle, pain, trials.

I often feel with regard to my migraines that I wish people on the outside would walk in my shoes.  Not because I particularly wish them to have a migraine, but because I want them to consider what it might be like to be in so much pain you literally wish you could die.  Because I want someone to care that I would do anything for relief because it hurts so much and seems so hopeless.  I know many people think I’m a baby or a hypochondriac when it comes to the pain, and I’m learning to be okay with people thinking that.  I’ve also discovered that sometimes I am a baby when it comes to pain and that sometimes I can push myself farther than I care to or thought I could.

But do I give this same courtesy to others?  Do I consider what they might be thinking, feeling, seeing, hearing?  Have I ever thought that, as I know from personal experience, people on the outside don’t know what happens “behind closed doors?”  That perhaps, someone I know and love could be going through something I find unimaginable?

I have worked in customer service in many forms, and I love interacting with customers.  Although there are some who get angry or are unpleasant, there are so many more who make me laugh and smile and brighten my shift just with their pleasant attitude.  And in turn, can’t I do the same?  The other night, a beautiful and rather thin young woman impeccably dressed came through my line with just a few items and a tiny infant in the carrier in the buggy.  She seemed tired but smiled at me, so I began asking her about her daughter.  I then said, “Who looks like you do after having a baby just a few weeks ago?”  Her eyes welled up with tears:  “You just made my day.  Today was my first day back at work, and it was hard to leave her.”

As the exited the store, she turned back and said, “You really made my day.  Thank you.”  Man, how blessed did I feel?  In a somewhat joking, even envious moment, I had made a comment to a stranger that lifted her spirits.  Haven’t I been blessed countless times through a kind word or deed?  I don’t see how I can do anything less than slip on the shoes of another and be a blessing as they live in those shoes that I maybe couldn’t handle.

You're a big, fat, dirty, rotten sinner . . . Yes, YOU!

A couple weeks ago, I had an intense, awkward, frustrating confrontation with someone very important to me.  I was in a position where I could and needed to walk away, and I did.  The anger built up inside me, though, and I wanted so badly to spew out what I was thinking and feeling.  Honestly, I think I was right and probably would’ve been in the right for saying something, but not in the frame of mind I had.  I literally felt as though the Holy Spirit was supernaturally holding my mouth closed as I left that place.

As I fumed on the way home, I also felt proud that I walked out without saying anything.  Suddenly, I heard God speak to me:  You’re no better.  Yes, you did the right thing by keeping your mouth shut and walking away, but you’re a sinner, just the same.

This is just one of many things recently that God has used as He has been dealing with me heavily about compassion the past couple of months.  It really started to tug deeply at my heart after the shooting in Aurora, Colorado.  Several of my facebook friends made posts and comments regarding the alleged shooter that bothered me.  While the media spent hours of coverage interviewing, speculating, and discussing what made this man do what he did, many Christians spent those same hours criticizing him and saying what he deserved and where he could go.

It broke my heart because I couldn’t help thinking, “If not for God’s grace, I could’ve easily been a mass murderer.”  Going through some of the trials I have in the past few years has, unfortunately, brought out some of my poorer qualities.  One of these is my temper.  I’ve always been overly sensitive and quick to get offended or angry.  God is working with me on it and through it, but it isn’t easy.  When going through a divorce and custody battle, I had thoughts I couldn’t believe were happening in my own head.  When judges ruled things that didn’t make any sense to me, I understood why, humanly speaking, people go rogue and take matters into their own hands.  I realized how stress, anger, exhaustion, and rejection can make people perform acts that surprise everyone who knows them.

Over the last couple of months, God has been reminding me over and over again that in his eyes, I am the same as the alleged Colorado shooter.  I am a sinner who has broken God’s law and deserves hell.  I am not more deserving of blessings or less deserving of punishment.  And as a recipient of God’s grace and mercy in my life, I believe I am compelled to show compassion to others, especially those who may have never heard or may never hear anywhere else that Jesus loves them.

I do NOT think that compassion means letting people get away with wrongdoing or giving them a free pass.  I believe we all have to face the consequences of our choices, good and bad, big and small.  I DO think compassion can be offering a kind word, holding back a sarcastic comment, choosing to walk away rather than having an anger outburst.  Perhaps compassion is sacrificing your “fun money” to help a friend who’s having a hard time or whose child needs school clothes.  Maybe compassion is taking time out of your way-too-busy schedule to call, write, or email a friend whom you know is down or struggling.

What does compassion look like in your life?  Remember, you’re just as undeserving, but God has shown compassion to you!  Pass it on!

The Lost Girl

She longs for a love she’s never felt, yet misses.  The child inside hopes to be held, comforted.  The woman inside needs to be loved, desired.  Surrounded by darkness, she cries; but it seems her pleas for help are in vain.  Her eyes, burning from hours of unrest, are nearly adjusted to the pitch black.  She blinks and squints, hoping to catch a sliver of light, but finds none.

“Surely there is a way out,” she says aloud.  She speaks as though someone hears, yet she knows she is alone.  Then, a noise:  rescue, perhaps?  A savior, here to deliver her from captivity?  Alas, no.  It is just the sound of yet another facet of her life crumbling around her.

She screams, full of anger and desperation.  Why can’t she see an end?  There is no one to give her answers or solace.  She fears she is becoming increasingly comfortable in this abyss, though she doesn’t want to be.  She feels no relief, and it is becoming easier to stay.

She senses a faint whisper, seemingly coming from within:  “You are not lost.  You are not alone.”  Is she talking to herself again?  No.  She is far from having the strength for these words.  A stirring deep in her soul reminds her of a pure, white light; a beacon so bright it brings healing and dispels shadows.  Grace pours over her being, and a smile crosses her face.  But then, a wind, cold and harsh, sweeps over her, bringing her back into the moment.  She grunts with frustration as tears pour involuntarily down her face.  She is soaked with the pain.

The voice again, louder than before, “You are not lost.  You are not alone.”  “Lord,” she yells, “Is that You?!  If it is, please lift me from this pit!  End it, and get me out of here, now!”  Silence, stillness like death.  She scoffs, “I don’t know why I thought it would be any different than last time.”  Wait, “last time” . . . yes, she has been in darkness before, often.  And she has come out of it:  some way, at some time.  And it seems nothing has changed, including the voice.  She heard it in the previous darkness, and in the one before that.  Yet her chest is heavy with a sigh. She finds little consolation in the voice, for she is overwhelmed. 

Without warning, another wind sweeps over her, boisterous and almost blinding in its power. A drop of light appears to pierce the darkness, though from afar.  In echoing, thunderous tones, the voice speaks again: “YOU ARE NOT LOST!  YOU ARE NOT ALONE!”

Someone to come home to

It has been well over a year since I’ve posted anything here, but I’m hoping for that to change.  It is my current goal to write once a week and see how well I can keep up with it.  Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

Someone to Come Home to

Before I even knew what the term “hopeless romantic” meant, I was one.  I loved love stories, beautiful dresses, and bridal magazines.  I wanted to get married and be a stay-at-home mom.  For the most part, that dream never changed.  I never wanted to be a “career woman” or always working and missing my family’s life.

Fast forward to August 2012, where I am a single (divorced) mom working 2 jobs while my daughter stays with my parents.  What the heck happened?  This was NOT the plan!  Life happened.  Someone made a choice that changed my whole life and caused me to make a series of difficult but necessary choices.

I come home every day to my daughter, sister, 2 dogs, and my mom, who acts as my mentor, babysitter, and spouse until further notice.  We laugh, eat, talk, and cry; it’s wonderful, and I love it.  But at some point, the evening must end.  MK and I must go to our house.  Some days, I am so tired and hot and wanting to get home that I don’t think about it anymore.  Other days, I put off going home because I so hate being alone, especially after MK goes to bed.  The other day, though, I had a thought I’d never had before.  As we turned at the light (yes, the only one!) to go down Main Street to our house, my heart ached with the knowledge that no one was there.  I knew that I’d open the door, unload the car, get MK to bed, and settle in for the evening.  I knew that I’d watch some TV, read, get ready for bed, and get in bed.  Alone.  By myself.  Without a spouse.  “God!” I cried silently, “I want someone to come home to!”  He whispered, quietly in my spirit, “Are you a person that someone else wants to come home to?”

I suddenly realized that, in waiting to see if I will ever again have someone to share my life with in the spousal role, I’ve never thought whether someone wanted to come home to me.  Although I am unmarried, I share my life with several people on a daily basis:  my parents, sister, daughter, boss, coworkers.  Am I reflecting Jesus’ love to those around me?  Am I testifying of His unfailing favor to those who don’t know Him?  Am I trying to say, do, and be the best I can?

I don’t know whether God will allow me the privilege of being married again.  But I do know that I have a beautiful daughter looking to me for protection, provision, and example.  She is watching me to see how I react and whether I have answers for the questions of life.  My hope is that while I wait to see what God has for my future, I can, with His help, be someone that anyone would want to come home to.

The Move

"Here's your check. I've got someone who needs to start Monday, doing what you're doing." "Ok, thanks for everything." But my heart felt heavy with shock . . . . My work had been dwindling for some time, and I was still looking for a new job. I wasn't sure what to do next. A few minutes later, my dad called and asked if I'd go to the food distributor and drive some food over for Dairy Queen (about an hour away). I said sure; I had nothing better to do. But little did I know God had something in the works. As I drove to the food distributor, I got a call from a lady in Clinton asking when I could come for a job interview. I asked if she could see me that afternoon, and she said she could. That was one week ago yesterday.

I've secured a place to live, landed the job, and packed up and moved my apartment since then. I've also had orientation at my new job - about a week's worth of training in 6 hours. I'll be living near Clinton, OK, where my immediate family lives. I'll be neighbors with my landlord, a family from my parents' church. I'll be (the only one) working in the medical records department at a nursing home here in town. So, here I go. Leaving the incredibly beautiful city of OKC that has been my home for almost 8 years and moving to small town, OK. I am nervous about leaving, but excited about the obvious Providence of God. Thanks to all of you who have inquired as to our change, and to those of you who have supported me. I'll have a new blog to tell of my small town adventures coming soon!

Be careful what you wish for . . .

I've been needing to make a decision for some time now. No, I haven't made it yet, so I'm not going to discuss it in detail. So, if you're just looking for my choice, don't bother reading further. :)

I've been praying about it and asking a few close friends to pray with me. It still seems as though I have no clear answer from God. Perhaps neither choice is right or wrong. Perhaps He is going to answer in a way I never expected, or in one of the ways I've already considered. Or, maybe, He is going to come through in a miraculous way at the "last minute." But one thing I know for sure, He is going to answer me. I have come to the point where I want to step out and follow Him, though I'm scared of what that means. It could mean continuing to wait, or it could mean making the choice that is not my preference. However, I do believe that God wants me to be willing to follow Him, step out in faith; yea, even take my "second choice" to find what He has for me.

Though fear and confusion reign, I know that God will lead me and will catch me when I step out in faith, even if I'm feeling like I'm falling. Praise God for His hands of mercy and grace that catch, hold, and guide us through our lives! And praise Him for friends He brings to remind us of His goodness and guidance!

One Word

A few days ago, a friend shared a verse of encouragement on my post regarding spiritual warfare. It was Exodus 15:27 "And they came to Elim, where were twelve wells of water, and threescore and ten palm trees: and they encamped there by the waters." The next day, on the KLOVE Morning Show, they were talking about their "One Word Challenge." They are encouraging everyone to choose a single word as their "motto" or "resolution" for 2011. Immediately, I thought of the verse my friend had posted, and the word "refresh(ment)" came to my mind.

The deserts of life - finances, children, joblessness, relationships, worry, loneliness, you name it - leave us parched, even nearly dead, and longing for refreshment. How many times I have been refreshed and wasn't even aware that I needed it! An encouraging text or note in the mail, a comment on facebook, a hug from a friend - these are all sources of refreshment. How many more times have I cried out to God from a place of sin or brokenheartedness, how often have I opened the Bible and begged Him to give me some drop of water to cool the burn of tiredness!

Refreshment gives us courage to face the unknown and strength to face the known; it prods us to take another step though our feet are bloody from the jagged rocks. It spurs us on to the mountaintop and shines hope on us in the valley. This year, I want to be refreshed by my seeking and God's answering. I want to refresh others the way I myself have been encouraged so many times.

Waiting

Pain, creeping up with each letter of each word, spoken and implied.

Brokenness, unfathomable in depth.

Praying for nothing worse, yet realizing somehow it is no better.

My soul cries for resolution, justice, relief . . . and receives none.

Wounds: open, raw, bleeding.

Longing to scab over, scar even.

Healing comes not, but desire lingers.

Desire unfulfilled leads to crossroads.

Faith tested and strengthened or abandoned?

Though nearly extinguished, hope faintly lingers.

Bloodied hands, wearied from fighting, pick up the pieces and wait on . . .

Will I ever love again?

Have you ever saved an old note, e-mail, or text from someone that meant a lot to you? Have you ever reread it over and over till the paper was soft from being handled so much? Have you ever been incredibly grateful for the confirmation "Are you sure you want to delete this message?" and clicked "No." ? Well, I have done and continue to do all these things. I am, as many of you know, a sentimental person, and I keep lots of mementos, letters, and tickets to remember various things and people. However, these great sources of joy can also be sources of pain when the person attached to them dies, leaves, or is just not in your life anymore.

So, we ask ourselves: Will I ever love again? Is it worth the pain to open up to the love and acceptance I receive? Should I enter into a relationship or friendship with this person knowing that even fellow Christians make mistakes and hurt, sometimes unintentionally? Should I join a small group, Bible study group, or Sunday school class where people will see my faults and sins and hold me accountable for them?

I submit a hearty YES to the above questions. There are times in my life when I have thought, "This hurts. The bleeding wounds of my heart are not worth it." However, I soon find myself forming new friendships and growing attached to new people. What am I thinking?! To a certain extent, this is my personality - I'm a "people person." But even more than that, I think, is that I have benefited from and/or learned something from every person I've ever had any type of relationship with. The friend whose child is in and out of the hospital who speaks peace to me every time I talk to her; the fellow single mom who has a smile on her face and never audibly complains; the new acquaintance who is my age and a widowed mother of 2 young children; the person who sent all those messages that I keep rereading, though it's painful because they are gone now; the grumpy cashier or waiter who makes me think "Is that how I sound? Yikes!"; these are all people that God has placed and allowed in my life, and I believe I can learn from each one of them. So, the question is, will I? Will I open my heart and take the risk? Will I let someone see my baggage and help me work through it? Will I let Jesus speak to me through His word and other people? Will I ever love again? Gosh, I hope so, because I don't want to be known as someone who never loved. I want to be known as one who loved fully, to the depths, and one whose love others could feel.

Jesus is . . . .

This is the text from a Christmas card I sent out a couple of years ago. I loved it so much that I kept one and posted it on the cork board above my desk. It is such an encouragement to me each time I read it:

JESUS

The Faithful One

The confidence we have . . . .

The trust we hold . . .

The hope we carry . . .

Rest in His faithfulness.

Every promise He has made

He purposes to fulfill.

He has the authority to

Accomplish all He has spoken.

His power is limitless . . .

His character changeless . . .

His love endless!

I am so thankful for Jesus and His gracious faithfulness! He has continuously reminded me of His goodness through daily provisions, large and small. He has surrounded me with unbelievably delightful family and friends, both near and far. He has carved out a niche for me in a stunningly supportive group of Christian friends at a church that accepts and loves people where they are, but is not content to leave them there. He has pushed, prodded, and carried me through what has felt like hell on earth. He has stood with me and shared my smiles on the mountaintops of victory and joy. Even when life is too much and I just can't do it, face it, live it, or deal with it - He is Jesus, and I know He is there. Though my heart is hurting and I can't feel Him, I know in my head He is with me and will bring me through.

I am so thankful that He loves me enough to have died for my salvation and to continually intercede on my behalf to Almighty God!

White Roses

Ever done something that you truly believed in your heart was the best decision, but maybe overreacted and did something hasty, or (dare I say it?) stupid? Well, that is how I started the day on Friday. In the course of those actions, I hurt a dear friend that I love very much. While I worried and stewed about that decision during the course of the day, I got a phone call from Mikaela, crying "I don't wanna come home. I want to stay with Daddy." Ugh! If you are in any way involved in custody, adoption, or divorce issues, you know how much that can hurt, even though our kids don't mean to be hurtful. A couple of hours later, Mikaela came home, but not without difficulties from her dad, which ended with a 911 call. In the meantime, I watched the minutes tick away, putting me later and later to my arrival at the Single Mother's Conference. By the time it all was said and done, I wanted to kick my shoes off, order pizza, and lock the door. However, I knew I would get something amazing out of the conference, and that Mikaela and I had both been looking forward to it since last year's conference. So I sucked up my tears and went. I barely arrived as they were ushering ladies into the auditorium to start. As I hurried to the door where I knew I would receive a flower (they give each mom one every year), I said a silent prayer "Jesus, please calm me and set my mind at ease to enjoy this conference." When I got to the door, the lady said "Choose a rose, hon." There were two lovely peach buds, both pretty but barely open. Then I saw it - as if the skies opened and the "Hallelujah Chorus" played - A perfect white rose, my favorite flower in the whole world, opened to the height of its beauty. "I'll take the white one," I said audibly, while silently smiling "Thanks, Jesus."

I did have a fantastic weekend at the conference - cried, laughed, learned, prayed. I still wish I could unhurt my friend or wish Mikaela didn't miss her dad so much. I still cringe at the thought of her leaving to visit him for 2 weeks straight, during which time we have our custody hearing. But when I look at the rose in a vase on my table, I am reminded that Jesus sees and cares about all those things. And that He even cares about the little things.

Will you see the "white roses" in your life? Will you pray for them? They are reminders that Jesus loves you so much! He sees and cares!

Captivating? Me? (Part One)

I was not part of the pretty or popular girls growing up. I made straight A's without studying, didn't go to movie theaters, didn't wear makeup or date, and had parents who were on staff at the church and Christian school. My dad was the principal and wanted any guy interested in me to go through him, and there were not really any takers. When I was 14, a guy I met in a different state wrote my dad and asked if he could correspond with me through letters, and my dad said "Yes." We wrote back and forth for a couple years, and once he even came to El Paso and met my parents. However, he made some bad choices and ended up going to jail for a while. My senior year of high school, I met Dustin, and he quickly showed an interest in pursuing me. I tried to hold him at bay because I was already enrolled in Pensacola Christian College in Pensacola, FL. However, my feelings changed quickly, and we began dating. Most of our relationship was long distance, as he went to a college in California.

At the age of 20, with an Associate's Degree in hand, I married him, feeling pursued, adored, worshipped even, but I don't think truly beautiful. In the first 18 months of our marriage, I had gained quite a bit of weight, and I gained a lot more once I became pregnant with Mikaela. The week before she was born, on our second wedding anniversary, our apartment burned down. I was so devastated and traumatized, and I often wonder what would have happened to me if I had not had Mikaela to take care of. However, I could easily see and recognize God's Faithful Hand of protection and provision. It took me a long time to get over what had happened, though, and I had nightmares about it for over a year. In 2006, I began online classes for medical transcription, to "refresh" what I had learned for my degree and aim towards working at home. I felt happy with life and loved being a stay-home mom to my beautiful baby girl, but often had low self-esteem because of the extra baby weight that I struggled to lose.