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.