Coming Out

Okay, this closet door hasn't exactly been closed.

My mental clutter kind of busts out from time 

to time. Sometimes a stray thought drops from

the shelf. Other times, there's an outright avalanche. 

It's no big secret I have mental issues. 

They gave me a fancy diagnosis and everything. They 

said I could keep this fancy gift forever, so I stuck
it in my closet. I sometimes break it out at parties or when
I want to impress someone. 

Alas, I don't go to a lot of parties or impress a lot of someones.

But I still have the gift of fancy.

Honestly, too often I hide in my little dark corner, buried in 

clutter, wishing I wasn't so stinkin' fancy.

THEN GOD REMINDS ME TO PRAISE HIM! 

And I do. Right there, in my mess, in the dark, I praise Him.

Eventually, little by little, I crawl out of that closet. I have to.

There's work to do out here.

The miracle of it is that, no matter what, God lets me work for Him.

He employs the weak, the strong, the plain and the fancy. Whatever
the gift, He knows what to do with it.

In the light He has use for me.

When the pressure sends me back to my dark corner He still has use for me.

I come out because He has use for me. 

He has use for me.

Even. Crazy. Me.

And guess what.

He has use for you too.

Super Power, Activate!

I've been thinking a lot about forgiveness.
Praying. Reading. Wrote a poem.
Heavy thinking kind of stuff.

I thought letting go of the vengeful hoo haw junking
up my being was all I had to do.

Defiantly eating mass amounts of birthday cake laced
ice cream wasn't doing anyone any good, nor would
the vindictive plots creeping around in my brain.

I told myself I forgave and avoided the two for five
special in the grocer's dairy freezer.

But the uglies didn't go away.

Anger, disappointment and fear continued to linger. With
those beat the question, "Did I really forgive or am
I just a hypocrite?"

I had to look deeper and accept that emotions are feelings I
can't pretend not to have. More importantly, they come with
the challenge to be used responsibly.

Yes, I get angry. But hey, sometimes anger is a great motivator
for change.

Disappointed? Pshh. Often. Sure, I cry. I also learn.

And I need fear! It reminds me not to go too close to the edge.

There are fun emotions too, so I'll have lots to work with.

Forgiveness, however, is not an emotion. It's a super power.
And woah! We all have it. We just have to use it.

The ability to forgive let's you see through the uglies to the peace on
the other side. It's the incredible strength that can lift tons of vengeful hoo
haw out of prayer's way. It's the shield that doesn't wait for the battle to
be over to protect.

So, step off, Satan. This girl has been forgiven. I have God's grace,
and I'm not afraid to use it.

Forgive

Teach me to forgive,
As I have been forgiven,
Humbled in the armor,
Of peace no longer hidden.

Release me now of yesterday,
And hold me up today,
Ready for tomorrow,
Strengthened by Your grace.

Amen

How to Get a Redhead to Stop Obsessing

Suggestions welcome :)



____________________

But

I wanted to write something beautiful the other day.
I wanted to inspire, encourage.

Instead, I attended a pity party. See, it was our twenty fifth
wedding anniversary. I had this grand idea of celebrating the
best way I know how. Apparently, however, I'm not as wise
as I pretend to be.


For years we've discussed adoption, sharing our family with
another child in need of love. I knew I loved this child
already. I dreamed of giving him a home. I think we all did.

Preparing to celebrate twenty five years of marriage brought
this longing to share our family closer to reality. Our three
eldest children are grown up and out on their own. Our
youngest, Thomas, is our only child at home now and the
time seemed perfect.

With lots of prayer, research, phone calls, and paperwork,
the journey began. We went to the orientation for classes a few
weeks ago. We were to start on May 7th, our anniversary.

I loved the idea of celebrating our anniversary with going to our
first class. Family is the best way I know to do anything.

-but-

Turns out I do not qualify to be a mother to an adopted child.

Not insufficient education. Not lack of experience. Not finances.
No excuse at all, just unqualified me.

The agency deemed me unfit to be a mother based on a psychiatric
diagnosis with which I was labeled before Thomas was even born.
Unfit. Seems I've heard that word before. Oh wait, that was in my
nightmares.

So, yeah. Sometimes insecurities get validated.

I needed another "but." Funny enough, there usually is at least one.
When I got done crying and beating myself up, I found the buts I
needed.

One of my favorites is my family. There's great strength in embracing
the mission I'm already on. Too often my efforts and hopes to do
more, or the obstacles and failures I encounter, make me lose sight
of the good and the needs that are right in front of me.

And you know what? I am not an unfit mother. I'm not perfect, of
course. But I am secure in knowing this is the mission I'm meant to
be on. Sure, I will keep trying to do more. Some things may work
out, some may not. But right now I'm thankful to be reminded that
not being perfect does not mean not being anything.

We have a lot to celebrate.

After twenty five years of marriage I can wholeheartedly say I love
and am thankful for my husband and the family that came with our
union.

No, it hasn't been perfect. But...

Because He Said So

I didn't see this coming.

I grew up Catholic. I was baptised when I was a baby.
My mom saw to that. She's so wonderful. She taught us
about Jesus, to pray, to believe in God's awesome
power. She sets a great example with her forgiving heart and
her genuine loving nature. My mom will always be my first
and dearest teacher.

I'm so thankful to have gotten to grow up knowing about Jesus.
And I value the importance of bringing together that knowledge
with a sincere acceptance of Him as Savior.

Though I've been taught in great ways and learned great things, I
still had to be the one to make the great choice to follow Jesus. And
I did.

I really did.

But why did I need to get baptised again? I already did that, right? Not
only did I, but I renewed it many times when the priest prayed over
us and sprinkled water as we renewed our vows.

Well, it started with a prayer.

I don't remember all the words, honestly. But when our worship leader,
Bryce, prayed for changed hearts I felt that familiar longing for a change
in my own.

Pastor Larry's message guided me to what I needed to do to
help that change along, and helped me understand why. He said we get
baptised because Jesus said so. Those simple words left no room for my
lame excuses. And there was more. He set an example by doing it, and we
demonstrate our faith by doing it too. Hmmm.

Then I heard the testimony of yet another someone I admire,
Michelle Jennings. The truth touched my heart.

I had been following Jesus on my own terms. I let my insecurities about
being in public and cold water and bathing suits cloud my reasoning. I had been
praying for a closer relationship with God, to set an example for my children,
and direction to serve. But I was trying to follow without taking all the steps.
 
Despite my shaking hands and quivering voice, I made another choice.
I whispered to Ed I wanted to be baptised with the others after church. I was
afraid he'd think I was silly. Instead he ran across the street to buy me shorts.
How cool is he?

So I stood in the water and looked out at Thomas. Two years ago he made this
same decision to be baptised. Still, I kind of hoped this would be a beautiful moment
of inspiration for him. He just gave me a silly look as if to say, "Ummm, it's about time."

Please Know

Please know I notice,
He's learning so much.
Minds on a journey,
With the help of your touch.

Please know I see,
You really do care,
A wonderful comfort,
When I can't be there.

Please know I respect,
The measures you take,
To hold on to order,
And keep our kids safe.

Please know I am thankful,
In this world we live in,
To witness some goodness,
And hope for our children.

And no matter what's said,
About prayer in our schools,
Please know that I'm out here,
Praying for you.

When Can I Let This Mission Stop Beating the Snot Out of Me?

There's this thing I need to do. When I took it on, I claimed it as an important purpose in my life.

I started it. I had good intentions, really. Then something went wrong. The mission started failing.

I began to question if it was time to let go of my purpose.

But I did start it.

I stepped back and asked myself, "why did I start this?"

The surface reasons I rattled off were nice. To be honest, though, what I listed as reasons were mostly the benefits I expected to come. Some reasons, I had to admit, were more like excuses.

The pains and struggles of this journey nudged me toward the edge of giving up. I wanted to stop. But the idea of stopping hurt even more. I was tired, hurting, confused.

I had let the purpose become my enemy. But that wasn't right.

Something in me wouldn't let me let go. Turns out, that something is my purpose. The true purpose of starting this mission was what had been under attack all along. The real enemy was armed with insecurities and doubts, setbacks and disappointments, fears and heartaches.

Yes, I made mistakes. But in spite of my failures and wanderings, the purpose hasn't left.

So now what?

Accept.

That one little word is a powerful weapon. One that has to be handled carefully.

Accept the challenge and act.
Accept the lessons and adjust.
Accept that the power over obstacles is sometimes a direction around.
Accept the purpose as a mission to never let go.

There's this thing I need to do.
 

The Weight of Waiting

Waiting can be so heavy. 

Wait for an end to a hard day or a long ride. That phone just won't ring.  Change promises to come. Answers seem to have boarded a slow boat and you wonder if they're lost at sea.  

Whatever our wait, the weight of it can throw us off balance. But we don't have to fall. Tools are available to help carry the load.

I have this really great pastor who, among other things, teaches us how to apply scripture to our daily lives. Often I don't realize how I'm going to use the tools when I first get them, but it's pretty cool when I reach for something and find it in the toolbox.

One lesson I'm drawing on today is from the book of Matthew. Jesus said,

"29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”  (Matthew 11)

Sounds good, right? Well, it sounded even better when I learned Jesus didn't say "yolk" and He wasn't referencing egg slime.

If I have this right, a yoke is a heavy crossbar used to pair animals, like oxen, to better work together. When the animals took on the yoke, it didn't relieve them of the work, but it joined them to pull the load. 

The yoke of Jesus isn't heavy. He did the hardest part. And under Him we are joined. Through Him our burdens are made lighter.

 Well, hello spiritual aha!

He gave even more than Himself. He gave us each other. If we open our eyes we can find someone who cares. We can work together, wait together. Share each other's burdens and joys. He gives us the tools. He helps us carry the weight.

Peace to you & Thanks for reading!!

The Heart of the Matter

There are so very many things for which I am thankful.
At this moment, one thing in particular is hypochondria.
You see, I woke up in the wee hours because it felt like
I was having a heart attack. So I decided to run with it.

No need to worry. I've learned over the years that these
"heart attacks" tend to go away after taking the right amount
of antacid. So I shant be bothering the folks at the emergency
room again tonight.

Still. I have to think. Delusional illness can be an incredible
blessing.

The past few months I've been in a bit of a funk. Okay, I've
been a cranky, whiny beast. My apologies to those stuck
putting up with me and to those I've neglected. Many thanks
to those who stick by me anyway.

Now I'm up at three in the morning having this crazy heart attack.
How appropriate. I'm awakened to the fact that I've been failing
my heart for these past months.  

I love when God spins a good metaphor.


I've let hard things break it, scary things shake it, and doubt came
in to take it. (Sorry. I can't resist a cheesy rhyme.)

Instead of using my heart for good stuff like love and kindness, worship,
grace, and the passionate pursuit of dreams, I let it wallow in funky town.
Turns out it's not as much fun as the song suggests.

I know a real heart attack is a terrible thing. I'm sorry it sometimes
takes an encounter with hypochondria to be reminded what a blessing
good health is. So today I am also praying for your heart, and physical
well being.

As for my metaphorical heart attack, I plan to be actively involved in the
recovery. There are so many good things to be done. This heart is in for
some serious exercise.

Saved

Bigger than this moment,

Beyond all yesterdays,

Take me to Your promise,

Rest in precious grace.

Relieve this day with mercy,

Tomorrow's out of reach,

Above alone and broken,

Into eternity.

Please

I don't need you to fix me,
Or even understand.
I just ask that you love me,
And maybe hold my hand.

See me when I'm hiding,
Let me know you're there.
Need me just a little,
Or more because I care.

Share your smiles here and there,
And tears about to fall,
Say, "Hey, you're not alone."
Or anything at all.

Above all, follow His call.

Sometimes it is so hard.

Blessings. Most of my prayers include thanks for the many blessings God has given me. Honestly though, when I say those words, I am often thinking about the blessings I like. It's easy to be thankful for a loving family, a warm home, a friend.

But everything is a blessing, really. Even the hard stuff. Sometimes we realize later. Sometimes not. But God is cool enough to keep blessing us anyway.

When He leads me I want to follow. More than I want to do anything on this earth, I want to follow Him. Right now, I am giving thanks for every blessing. Every blessing.

Later I may cry or whine a little. I could be wrong, but I think it's okay to allow real emotions to have their moments. But snot is messy and nobody wants to hear me whine so I keep on following.

Because I know in my heart that the very greatest blessing of all is not the gifts themselves but The One who loves me enough to give them. So whatever He wants I want. No gift should be put above The One who gives it.


Right now I'm indulging in a moment of peace. God is reminding me He knows what He is doing. There's great comfort in knowing whatever I do today He'll know what to do with it.

My hope is to make His job as easy as possible.




Amen

SOME EVERYDAY TESTIMONIES OF AN ORDINARY HOUSEWIFE

Chapter One

The Burning Station Wagon

"There must be something wrong with that light." At least, that seemed like the easiest answer. I filled the gas tank before we left, I even had the oil checked. The possibility of another car repair bill made me squirm. The red warning light mocked me from the dashboard.

 I continued the trip down Interstate 81 with an uneasy eye keeping watch on gadgets I usually ignored. The light went out. It came back on. Home was still an hour away. In the seat beside me, my daughter, Jordan, sang with the radio and played with her cell phone. She wanted to get home to watch her favorite show. A quick stop might be tolerated- as long as she could get an iced mocha latte.

 I looked in my rearview mirror to the back seat and saw Thomas stick his thumb in his mouth. He didn’t seem worried at all. His four year old mind had yet to learn such concepts as “doubt” and “danger”. Heck, he was probably watching the skyline for golden arches so he could chow some fries.

 A fight with my husband, Ed, weighted my mind. He’d be pretty ticked off if I had to call him for a roadside rig to get us home now. I shouldn’t have hung up on him when he called me at my mother’s house. He shouldn’t have yelled at me though.

 Maybe if I could get the car home he could change a belt or something. I pulled into the passing lane. Surely our family’s station wagon could go a little faster than the dump truck up ahead. As we tried to pass the truck, the temperature gauge bounced toward “H”. The car kicked into slow motion. Those sharing the road saw fit to pass on the right and I couldn’t get back over to the driving lane, much less the right shoulder of the road.

Steam seeped from underneath the hood. We couldn’t keep moving. Traffic to the right of us flowed without mercy and we were forced to rest on the narrow left shoulder of the highway. I popped my hood open and a rush of smoke poured out. I am no mechanic, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t a good sign.

I called Ed. Jordan unbuckled Thomas and got him out. The shoulder of the road was about one roadkill skeleton wider than the car. I'd rather not further detail how I happened to gauge that fact.

 The legal speed limit on that stretch of highway is 65mph. Whoosh, this speed seems much faster when you are on a narrow patch of gravel between a busy highway and a ditch. Ed was at least an hour south. My parents were an hour north.

The smoke grew. We ran when we saw the fire. I'm not sure where we thought we were going, but we had to get away from a potential explosion. Thick black smoke. Flames. Nowhere to run. I never had a moment tell me more powerfully that there was only one thing to do. So we did it.

I stood on the side of Interstate 81 with my four year old son in my arms and my teenaged daughter at my side and we bowed our heads and prayed, "God, please save us."

We had barely lifted our heads when a pickup truck pulled off the road in front of us. He helped us in and took us to a safer spot on the other side of the highway. We watched from a distance as fire trucks came. Soon our car was another skeletal roadkill.

Thomas was shaking so much a State Trooper wrapped him in his jacket. A tow truck took what was left of our car. We got a ride to the nearest rest stop to wait for Ed.

At the rest stop the vending machine was kind to us. I think Skittles can taste like a miracle sometimes.

Then a mouse ran right past my feet and I screamed. Seriously? I have the nerve to be afraid of a mouse after this day? Yes. I'm sorry to say, I did. Thomas had the nerve to laugh at me for screaming. Jordan still wanted her latte. Ed and I would eventually get back to that fight. Our normal lives made a quick rebound. 

But when we got home that night Thomas burst through the door with an announcement he was excited to share, "We prayed and God saved us!"

And we keep praying. And He keeps saving us.

Amen!

As I later learned through the Book of Exodus, God got the attention of Moses through a burning bush. God gave Moses a mission, told him it would be hard, and He promised to be with him. Honestly, I sort of heard about that over the years but it never really sunk in. I couldn't tell you much about it. I can, however, tell you that as I sat in the back of a stranger's pickup truck- with my children safely beside me- watching the station wagon go up in flames, God certainly had gotten my attention.