Thursday, October 21, 2010
Did you know?
When you become a follower of this site, you can click on my 'Followers' icon to send me a message? I'd love to hear from you!
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Healing!
It has been quite a journey in sharing my testimony for the first time like this! I am so blessed to be encouraged by those of you who have read and urged me to finish what I started. Thank you so much! "Meme" posted a comment at the end of my testimony, wrapping her arms around me in prayer. That is my desire for each and every person who seeks comfort and direction from our Father!
As I brought the history of my journey to the Lord each time I sat to write, I asked Him to give me the right words to show other hurting people the way to healing. Yes, there were times I reflected on some of the points illuminated in my posts and wondered, with a heavy sigh, how in the world a scraped and tattered person like me could be a vessel for the Master's use. The answer always came when the glory of my salvation, both earthly and heavenly, was solely evident in the amazing and unspeakable love of the Lord Jesus.
My story isn't mine, and your story isn't yours. If you have made positive and wonderful choices in the Lord for most of your life - that's His story, and His alone! If you, like me, strayed, worshipping in the idol of "self", running headlong into the darkness before He gathered you once again in His arms to carry you back home - that's also His story, and His alone! There is no true testimony without God being the One who has guided and completed the work He began, as the Author and Finisher of our faith. No matter how good or how bad we may think we, or our lives have been, all the glory belongs to Him! For who makes you differ from another? And what do you have that you did not receive? Now if you did indeed receive it, why do you boast as if you had not received it? (I Corinthians 4:7 NKJV ) I am so thankful that we, as believers, will one day throw our crowns at His feet in Glory, because each and every story of every Christian is one of immeasurable love and grace!
So, yes, Meme, many of my posts were difficult and some of the memories were painful, but there is joy looking back, as the sustaining and deep Christian love of my foster family were woven through all the twists and turns - a true gift from the Lord. There is awe and wonder at His mercy and love, forgiving me seventy times seven. Peace wells up as I can look back and remember that He took all of my shame and guilt on Himself at the cross. The desire to produce much fruit comes as I reflect on the ways my foster family sheltered, prayed, and planted love in the hearts of me and countless others! All of these beautiful results of His grace shine through the fog of past hurts and sins.
More than anything, there is a purpose and a plan for each of us, and the opportunity to share what the Lord has done in my life spurs me on to love more, to reach out more, and to allow Him to use me as He repays the "years the locusts have eaten". If you are looking around at the desolation of your life, it doesn't have to stay that way. You may not feel you have enough strength to work toward something better. If you know the task is too much for you, then you're ready. You don't have enough strength to change, but He has more than enough for both of you! It is only when you give up that huge, ugly, heavy burden of 'being good enough' to God, that you can make real progress. Let it go. All you have to do is put it down and begin walking hand in hand with Him on the rest of your journey.
I wrote a poem years ago (ok, bear with me here - I was young). It's called:
The Locust Years
Driving one morning for coffee and quiet,
Dad's home with the kids, supervising the riot.
A weary young mother turns on the radio station,
And hears a pastor's words to his "on-air" congregation.
He speaks of the pain and the suffering heart,
Of those who sought God, then chose to depart.
He called them The Locust Years from Joel, in the Word,
Israel was desolate because they had forgotten the Lord.
The country was barren without wheat, barley or hay,
"Surely the joy of mankind had withered away."
She remembers her own years when in darkness she cried,
Tears of rebellion and drunkenness, hatred and pride.
Each new path she chose tore her out of His grasp,
Til His hand touched her heart through her newborn's tiny clasp.
The words filter through as the preacher explains,
"Return unto Me and I'll bring springtime rains.'
'I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten",
Yes, He'd mended her life, though so bruised and beaten.
Her own Locust Years left her heart as a desert,
Then He rained drops of sweet love when she gave Him her heart.
A blossom sprang forth, then a vine and a tree!
Soon a garden of life around her bloomed fragrantly!
Heading home, she found strength for her body and soul,
Life is just as it should be when we give God control. Elizabeth 1993
Dear Father,
Please use me as You see fit. May I always remember that I am Yours. Thank you for leaving the "99", so you could find me and bring back this little black sheep to Your fold. Thank You for Your promises in Isaiah (58:11)
The LORD will guide you continually,
And satisfy your soul in drought,
And strengthen your bones;
You shall be like a watered garden,
And like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.
In Jesus' name...
As I brought the history of my journey to the Lord each time I sat to write, I asked Him to give me the right words to show other hurting people the way to healing. Yes, there were times I reflected on some of the points illuminated in my posts and wondered, with a heavy sigh, how in the world a scraped and tattered person like me could be a vessel for the Master's use. The answer always came when the glory of my salvation, both earthly and heavenly, was solely evident in the amazing and unspeakable love of the Lord Jesus.
My story isn't mine, and your story isn't yours. If you have made positive and wonderful choices in the Lord for most of your life - that's His story, and His alone! If you, like me, strayed, worshipping in the idol of "self", running headlong into the darkness before He gathered you once again in His arms to carry you back home - that's also His story, and His alone! There is no true testimony without God being the One who has guided and completed the work He began, as the Author and Finisher of our faith. No matter how good or how bad we may think we, or our lives have been, all the glory belongs to Him! For who makes you differ from another? And what do you have that you did not receive? Now if you did indeed receive it, why do you boast as if you had not received it? (I Corinthians 4:7 NKJV ) I am so thankful that we, as believers, will one day throw our crowns at His feet in Glory, because each and every story of every Christian is one of immeasurable love and grace!
So, yes, Meme, many of my posts were difficult and some of the memories were painful, but there is joy looking back, as the sustaining and deep Christian love of my foster family were woven through all the twists and turns - a true gift from the Lord. There is awe and wonder at His mercy and love, forgiving me seventy times seven. Peace wells up as I can look back and remember that He took all of my shame and guilt on Himself at the cross. The desire to produce much fruit comes as I reflect on the ways my foster family sheltered, prayed, and planted love in the hearts of me and countless others! All of these beautiful results of His grace shine through the fog of past hurts and sins.
More than anything, there is a purpose and a plan for each of us, and the opportunity to share what the Lord has done in my life spurs me on to love more, to reach out more, and to allow Him to use me as He repays the "years the locusts have eaten". If you are looking around at the desolation of your life, it doesn't have to stay that way. You may not feel you have enough strength to work toward something better. If you know the task is too much for you, then you're ready. You don't have enough strength to change, but He has more than enough for both of you! It is only when you give up that huge, ugly, heavy burden of 'being good enough' to God, that you can make real progress. Let it go. All you have to do is put it down and begin walking hand in hand with Him on the rest of your journey.
I wrote a poem years ago (ok, bear with me here - I was young). It's called:
The Locust Years
Driving one morning for coffee and quiet,
Dad's home with the kids, supervising the riot.
A weary young mother turns on the radio station,
And hears a pastor's words to his "on-air" congregation.
He speaks of the pain and the suffering heart,
Of those who sought God, then chose to depart.
He called them The Locust Years from Joel, in the Word,
Israel was desolate because they had forgotten the Lord.
The country was barren without wheat, barley or hay,
"Surely the joy of mankind had withered away."
She remembers her own years when in darkness she cried,
Tears of rebellion and drunkenness, hatred and pride.
Each new path she chose tore her out of His grasp,
Til His hand touched her heart through her newborn's tiny clasp.
The words filter through as the preacher explains,
"Return unto Me and I'll bring springtime rains.'
'I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten",
Yes, He'd mended her life, though so bruised and beaten.
Her own Locust Years left her heart as a desert,
Then He rained drops of sweet love when she gave Him her heart.
A blossom sprang forth, then a vine and a tree!
Soon a garden of life around her bloomed fragrantly!
Heading home, she found strength for her body and soul,
Life is just as it should be when we give God control. Elizabeth 1993
Dear Father,
Please use me as You see fit. May I always remember that I am Yours. Thank you for leaving the "99", so you could find me and bring back this little black sheep to Your fold. Thank You for Your promises in Isaiah (58:11)
The LORD will guide you continually,
And satisfy your soul in drought,
And strengthen your bones;
You shall be like a watered garden,
And like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail.
In Jesus' name...
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Testimony Part VI
This is part 6 of my testimony. The previous posts can be viewed below.
Relaying my testimony has been a time of reflection, bringing along with it the pangs of remembrance, and absolute awe that I am sitting here today to testify of God's amazing love! I was listening to Dr. Dobson's new radio program yesterday and his guest was a woman who had tried to kill herself as a young girl by lying on the railroad tracks after sinking into a deep depression after being raped. Her legs were severed and she still wanted to die, though she wasn't even sure whether there was a heaven or not. As I sat and listened, a realization washed over me that I have come through some deep floods, and I was as functional as I could be through the hard times, in my own human strength.
In my promiscuity as a young teenager, I had found myself at my friend's sisters son's one year birthday party. (Yeah, don't know if I could say that twice!) Donna's sister was a teen mom, and the drugs were passed around with the birthday cake. I was fourteen years old, and Wayne was away at the Army basic training. There were some military men that Eve was involved with, the youngest being 19. I had a "crush" on one of them, and he took me to the back room so we could be "alone". I felt special. I was only fourteen, and I was attractive to a grown man. One by one, the other three men came into the room, and, due to the drugs, I was "out of it", but conscious. To make a long, sordid story short, they took turns with me, cheering each other on. I didn't stop them. I heard knocks at the bedroom door, but couldn't answer. Eventually, everyone went home, and one of the men put me in the shower so I could go home to my mother. I don't even know how I made it home. Someone must have driven me. I didn't realize it then, but that event affected me for decades. I never looked back and thought they were in the wrong - I hated myself for allowing it. I was a child and they were grown men.
Now I realize how absolutely hopeless and vulnerable I truly was. I don't wish revenge on these men - I pray for their salvation and will rejoice if I see them in heaven one day. But - man, oh man - what a "number" it did to my soul! I praise the Lord that I don't need to carry that burden in my own strength anymore! It's not even on my back - He has taken it off my shoulders and I now know it's not a part of "who" I am anymore. It's in the past, and I can forget what lies behind and press on toward the mark! The reason I can give my testimony with transparency and revisit my past is only because I believe God can use me to help others who are imprisoned in a "present" which may be similar to my past. If you are reading this and carrying the guilt of shameful circumstances and sin, please bring it to Jesus! He loves you! He is waiting as a father waits for a child to ask for help. He will rescue you - I promise!
So where was I? In the hospital wondering what to do next. I had turned my back on the Lord and through a strange set of circumstances, found myself living in the "apartment" of my friend's ex-boyfriend. That lasted two days, and then he talked me into going over the road with him in his truck to New York. I did not know his past. I didn't know he was abusive to women and even his own children, to the point of locking his little girl in a windowless basement for weeks at a time, and strip searching her each day to make sure she didn't steal any pencils from school. This lovely girl was an adult by the time I met her, and she and I became very close. She was like a daughter to me, but didn't confide her childhood trauma to me until three years later.
He asked me to have a baby. I missed my kids, so I tried to have a child for him. I was at "rock bottom", missing my children and my husband. Through the course of a year, I had three miscarriages. I would writhe in bed as the loss of each baby racked my body with pain. I was physically bankrupt by the fourth pregnancy. Three months came and went, and she was still with me, growing and kicking. Six months, and she could live if she were born! Then, he became a man I didn't recognize. He began to threaten to take the baby as soon as she was born. I contacted adoption agencies because I realized that we were penniless without his support. My two sons had come back to me, and we were often thrown out of the house with no keys, cell phone or car. Eventually, he would find me and bring me back "home". I called my ex husband a lot during that time and asked him to take the boys when I was homeless. He was always there for them.
Late in April, 2005, my little girl was born! I had to give up on the dream of adoption for her, because he told me he wouldn't release her, and if I did, he would "get" her. She was a joy to me, even as he threatened, in fits of anger, to take her out of the country where I would never find her. I left and returned a few times until she was nearly a year old. By the time I was able to break free for good, my whole family had been hurt physically and emotionally by this man.
When Michael was fifteen, he was at a crossroads. He could very easily have slipped away from me to a place my love could no longer reach him, and I couldn't blame him one bit. I was once again living where I shouldn't be, and doing what I knew was wrong. He was at a crisis point in his life, and I contacted a Christian camp up in Maine to ask if they would allow him to go work there for the summer. As I said my good-bye's to my son, I prayed with an aching heart that the Lord would somehow give Michael a new, godly mother to come home to, and take us out of our environment. Within a month, I became very ill, lost my job and then my home. Boy, were my circumstances different when I went to pick up my son so we could go to Florida with family to "recover"! It wasn't exactly what I was expecting when I prayed for change, but my heart was thawing and I knew the Lord was guiding us.
I had visited my Gram in the hospital (she had just had a pacemaker put in - at 97 years old!) just prior to taking that trip to Florida. Gram tenderly quoted a verse to me from II Chronicles (7:14) "If My people, who are called by My Name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land." I couldn't shake that verse from my thoughts, and surrendered my life to my Father while in Florida! The peace, the fellowship of my little local church family and the joy was immeasurable! Jesus saw me from far off, and ran to me as I trudged, weary, up the dusty path back into His arms! I enjoyed the "feast" He put before me in the way of fellowship and Christian love which I had never known before!
Think you know the rest of the story? You're right, because if you are here in this site, you were directed here after reading my story in Guideposts! God allowed me to be here with Gram in her final days, in godly fellowship and quietness. He brought me back into the "fold" with my foster family. He worked out circumstances so my children could be immersed in His teaching and love - not only at home, but also at school! He silently urged me to write - and to keep writing when I wondered whether a soul was even reading. My writing became a love letter to Him - a sacrifice of thankfulness! I asked Meredith to pray - that God will receive the glory in anything I write.
It has not always been easy, and I have second-guessed whether I should be so transparent at times. I believe there are many out there who know the Lord, but have fallen away. They need to hear that the Lord can reach them wherever they are - all they have to do is ask Him to. Repentance means being sorry enough to change. God will help us change - He will work in us! I can't change on my own - and, oh, I have so far to go, but if I can just reach one person who feels alone - then God has worked out His plan through my writing.
Please trust Him. Please know He loves you. Please allow Him to change you. You will never regret it. You may have some hard things in your life, but the Lord will walk with you through the trials if you will only let Him!
Dear Heavenly Father,
I thank You for giving me life! I thank You that you can be trusted, even when nothing makes sense! My heart so deeply wants to reach those who are hurting. Please guide me, forgive me when I fall short, and comfort us all through the hard times. Thank You for Jesus, who stands at the door and knocks. All we have to do is open the door and invite Him in. It's so easy, and we make it so hard! My testimony is Yours. Do with it what you want, and may someone, somewhere, turn to you with all their heart. I don't want to run away from you ever again! Please keep me close - give me the strength to draw near to You, knowing you will draw near to me! I love You, Lord - help me to live out that love in my actions. In Jesus Name - AMEN!
Relaying my testimony has been a time of reflection, bringing along with it the pangs of remembrance, and absolute awe that I am sitting here today to testify of God's amazing love! I was listening to Dr. Dobson's new radio program yesterday and his guest was a woman who had tried to kill herself as a young girl by lying on the railroad tracks after sinking into a deep depression after being raped. Her legs were severed and she still wanted to die, though she wasn't even sure whether there was a heaven or not. As I sat and listened, a realization washed over me that I have come through some deep floods, and I was as functional as I could be through the hard times, in my own human strength.
In my promiscuity as a young teenager, I had found myself at my friend's sisters son's one year birthday party. (Yeah, don't know if I could say that twice!) Donna's sister was a teen mom, and the drugs were passed around with the birthday cake. I was fourteen years old, and Wayne was away at the Army basic training. There were some military men that Eve was involved with, the youngest being 19. I had a "crush" on one of them, and he took me to the back room so we could be "alone". I felt special. I was only fourteen, and I was attractive to a grown man. One by one, the other three men came into the room, and, due to the drugs, I was "out of it", but conscious. To make a long, sordid story short, they took turns with me, cheering each other on. I didn't stop them. I heard knocks at the bedroom door, but couldn't answer. Eventually, everyone went home, and one of the men put me in the shower so I could go home to my mother. I don't even know how I made it home. Someone must have driven me. I didn't realize it then, but that event affected me for decades. I never looked back and thought they were in the wrong - I hated myself for allowing it. I was a child and they were grown men.
Now I realize how absolutely hopeless and vulnerable I truly was. I don't wish revenge on these men - I pray for their salvation and will rejoice if I see them in heaven one day. But - man, oh man - what a "number" it did to my soul! I praise the Lord that I don't need to carry that burden in my own strength anymore! It's not even on my back - He has taken it off my shoulders and I now know it's not a part of "who" I am anymore. It's in the past, and I can forget what lies behind and press on toward the mark! The reason I can give my testimony with transparency and revisit my past is only because I believe God can use me to help others who are imprisoned in a "present" which may be similar to my past. If you are reading this and carrying the guilt of shameful circumstances and sin, please bring it to Jesus! He loves you! He is waiting as a father waits for a child to ask for help. He will rescue you - I promise!
So where was I? In the hospital wondering what to do next. I had turned my back on the Lord and through a strange set of circumstances, found myself living in the "apartment" of my friend's ex-boyfriend. That lasted two days, and then he talked me into going over the road with him in his truck to New York. I did not know his past. I didn't know he was abusive to women and even his own children, to the point of locking his little girl in a windowless basement for weeks at a time, and strip searching her each day to make sure she didn't steal any pencils from school. This lovely girl was an adult by the time I met her, and she and I became very close. She was like a daughter to me, but didn't confide her childhood trauma to me until three years later.
He asked me to have a baby. I missed my kids, so I tried to have a child for him. I was at "rock bottom", missing my children and my husband. Through the course of a year, I had three miscarriages. I would writhe in bed as the loss of each baby racked my body with pain. I was physically bankrupt by the fourth pregnancy. Three months came and went, and she was still with me, growing and kicking. Six months, and she could live if she were born! Then, he became a man I didn't recognize. He began to threaten to take the baby as soon as she was born. I contacted adoption agencies because I realized that we were penniless without his support. My two sons had come back to me, and we were often thrown out of the house with no keys, cell phone or car. Eventually, he would find me and bring me back "home". I called my ex husband a lot during that time and asked him to take the boys when I was homeless. He was always there for them.
Late in April, 2005, my little girl was born! I had to give up on the dream of adoption for her, because he told me he wouldn't release her, and if I did, he would "get" her. She was a joy to me, even as he threatened, in fits of anger, to take her out of the country where I would never find her. I left and returned a few times until she was nearly a year old. By the time I was able to break free for good, my whole family had been hurt physically and emotionally by this man.
When Michael was fifteen, he was at a crossroads. He could very easily have slipped away from me to a place my love could no longer reach him, and I couldn't blame him one bit. I was once again living where I shouldn't be, and doing what I knew was wrong. He was at a crisis point in his life, and I contacted a Christian camp up in Maine to ask if they would allow him to go work there for the summer. As I said my good-bye's to my son, I prayed with an aching heart that the Lord would somehow give Michael a new, godly mother to come home to, and take us out of our environment. Within a month, I became very ill, lost my job and then my home. Boy, were my circumstances different when I went to pick up my son so we could go to Florida with family to "recover"! It wasn't exactly what I was expecting when I prayed for change, but my heart was thawing and I knew the Lord was guiding us.
I had visited my Gram in the hospital (she had just had a pacemaker put in - at 97 years old!) just prior to taking that trip to Florida. Gram tenderly quoted a verse to me from II Chronicles (7:14) "If My people, who are called by My Name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land." I couldn't shake that verse from my thoughts, and surrendered my life to my Father while in Florida! The peace, the fellowship of my little local church family and the joy was immeasurable! Jesus saw me from far off, and ran to me as I trudged, weary, up the dusty path back into His arms! I enjoyed the "feast" He put before me in the way of fellowship and Christian love which I had never known before!
Think you know the rest of the story? You're right, because if you are here in this site, you were directed here after reading my story in Guideposts! God allowed me to be here with Gram in her final days, in godly fellowship and quietness. He brought me back into the "fold" with my foster family. He worked out circumstances so my children could be immersed in His teaching and love - not only at home, but also at school! He silently urged me to write - and to keep writing when I wondered whether a soul was even reading. My writing became a love letter to Him - a sacrifice of thankfulness! I asked Meredith to pray - that God will receive the glory in anything I write.
It has not always been easy, and I have second-guessed whether I should be so transparent at times. I believe there are many out there who know the Lord, but have fallen away. They need to hear that the Lord can reach them wherever they are - all they have to do is ask Him to. Repentance means being sorry enough to change. God will help us change - He will work in us! I can't change on my own - and, oh, I have so far to go, but if I can just reach one person who feels alone - then God has worked out His plan through my writing.
Please trust Him. Please know He loves you. Please allow Him to change you. You will never regret it. You may have some hard things in your life, but the Lord will walk with you through the trials if you will only let Him!
Dear Heavenly Father,
I thank You for giving me life! I thank You that you can be trusted, even when nothing makes sense! My heart so deeply wants to reach those who are hurting. Please guide me, forgive me when I fall short, and comfort us all through the hard times. Thank You for Jesus, who stands at the door and knocks. All we have to do is open the door and invite Him in. It's so easy, and we make it so hard! My testimony is Yours. Do with it what you want, and may someone, somewhere, turn to you with all their heart. I don't want to run away from you ever again! Please keep me close - give me the strength to draw near to You, knowing you will draw near to me! I love You, Lord - help me to live out that love in my actions. In Jesus Name - AMEN!
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Testimony Part V
This is Part 5 of my testimony. The first four parts are listed in the previous posts.
As I ended the last post, I signed off with the glow of the earlier joyful days. It is so bittersweet to remember the days of a new baby and a marriage I was madly in love with. I finally had a family. I finally was loved and belonged. My husband, while quiet, showed me every day that he was committed to me and our little girl. Each smile, each time her tiny hand reached out for us, we melted. The three of us grew together and life was a dream come true.
We were in church every time the doors were opened. My husband, Mark, would lay in bed next to me and tell me how happy he was. I was so joyful in the Lord, and felt like a "real" Christian for the first time in my life. I don't know why I just couldn't stop the nagging fears and feelings of insecurity from invading my perfect world.
The first time I had a classic "panic attack", I was about thirteen. It went hand in hand with my descent into the dysfunctional relationship I had with Wayne. I distinctly remember being in the car with a woman counselor who I was in a one-on-one discipleship program with. All of a sudden, I felt that I was going to be sick. I didn't know what to do, she opened the window so I could get fresh air, and drove me home. As soon as I was alone, the feeling of panic went away. This panic developed into a phobia driven lifestyle, which would plague me for over two decades.
The first few years with my new little family were wonderful, and yet, I was still debilitated with social anxiety and intense jealousy of my husband. I was so afraid he would leave, I sometimes pushed him away and was suspicious of everything he did. I began to have irrational fears of being in crowds and public places to the point of having to leave the church services a few times during the message to go into the bathroom and splash water on my face. I couldn't go out to dinner or be in a mall without being near an exit. I was so thankful for the grace of God, yet I hated myself for being so weak. The Christianity I lived back then was one of duty and guilt - not because of the teaching at my church, but because of my inner battles and sense of self-loathing. I translated my own disgust with myself to God's view of me, and I just kept working harder to be good enough. The burden I lugged around in my fear-filled frame was eventually too heavy for me to carry.
When my baby Shelli was five months old, I had my first miscarriage. I didn't know I was pregnant, and as the nurses wheeled me into surgery for a D&C, one let out her secret to the other one that she had just learned she was pregnant. Her face went white when she realized I was losing a baby, and I comforted her by telling her I didn't know I was pregnant, so it was ok. Inside, I was aching. John, my pastor, and Gram and Grampy's son came to the hospital that day. I loved him so much for that! I don't think he every realized what that meant to me that day when everyone else acted like it was just a bump in the road.
A little over a year later, God blessed me with my little baby Danny. He grew to be such a delight to me and his father! Every day with our two little children was such a blessing. We grew as a family and went through the first tooth, first day of school, first little league game and first girls' sleepovers. Still the panic and jealousy pervaded my inner soul. Still I worked as hard as I could to be the best Christian possible. I worked hard at being the best, the prettiest, the thinnest until one day, the world came crashing down. I had two little children and I was under 100 pounds due to starvation. I was admitted to the hospital to gain weight and for a complete mental "breakdown". Ten weeks later, I was released. Embarrassed and angry at myself for losing the control I thought I had, I forged on, battling my weight and my inner demons.
As I worked at "arriving" spiritually, I nagged my husband to join me in my quest for perfection, begging him to pray with me and to be a better man. He worked tirelessly night and day as a police officer and I kept the home fires burning, but was scattered and unorganized, secretly belittling myself for not being a good cook, a perfect housekeeper, a supermom. On my quest to earn God's approval, I determined to read through the Bible in less than a year. The first time I read it, I gave myself "brownie points" for accomplishing my goal in only five months. I constantly compared myself to others, either chiding myself for not measuring up, or letting my pride get in the way if I thought I "did" Christianity better than those around me.
The second time I read the Bible through, I was sitting in my chair, absentmindedly rubbing my round belly, pregnant for the fourth time. Shelli and Danny were four and two years old. Finishing the chapter, I stood up and immediately began to hemorrhage. Bent over in pain, I ran to the bathroom to get a towel, called Mark and rushed to the hospital. The ultrasound showed that the baby was ok, and the bleeding subsided. The next day, we went for a second ultrasound and were told the baby had died sometime in the night. My options were to wait for my body to "deliver" the baby in the next week or two, or to go in for a procedure. My belly was full, and the baby was gone. I wanted the baby out. The surgery was scheduled, and I fell asleep to the anesthesia with tears coursing down my face. The next moment I was awake and led to a chair to sit for a while. My hands reached down to my flat, empty belly. Mark came in, knelt and put his head on my lap and cried. Over the next few months, we turned completely to the Lord, and I praised myself inwardly for handling everything so well. My faith grew and yet my concept of grace was still so wrong
Graced a year later with baby Michael, our miracle, life was busy and we were blessed! I did my best to be a great mom, and the kids grew. We built a house out in the country, Mark worked hard to provide for us, we became foster parents, and I threw myself into helping kids who needed to know they were loved. I created a "Welcome Wagon" for new kids entering the system and became president of our area Foster Parent Association. We took in adoption babies, and became an assessment home, helping to place kids with the right foster parents. We had kids ranging from 2 days old to fifteen years, with our own three children lost in the crowd. Our marriage became strained, and we began drinking to "destress" at the end of the day. I began taking my panic medicine, and went to my room when things became too overwhelming. When the foster kids were home with their parents and our own children with with their grandmother, Mark and I drank to get drunk. We couldn't keep up the facade of the perfect family and marriage any longer. We stopped going to church and fought each night behind closed doors, plodding along and accomplishing what we needed to do during the day to get by.
I heaped more and more on our plates, trying to be good enough, then blamed, accused and resented my husband for having nothing left for me at the end of the day. We sold the house and moved back to our old town in an effort to make life easier. Then the end came. I filed for separation because the fighting was too intense and I couldn't live with all the pressure I had added to our marriage. There were angry confrontations. Mark moved out on Christmas day. The foster children moved on. I had failed everyone, and Mark was awarded temporary physical custody of the kids in the first court hearing. Shelli and Danny wanted to be with their dad because I was an angry, out of control mother they didn't recognize. Michael left after I packed his backpack and gave him a picture of me to carry with him. I was broken. I wanted to die.
I called Gram and told her I had nothing left to live for. She called Meredith and they brought me to her house. I sobbed, trying to tell them I had no future. All my energy spent to be perfect had made me emotionally and physically bankrupt. Meredith pleaded with me to realize that this was not "the end". Nothing they said meant anything to me. My kids were gone and I was utterly alone. They brought me back home where I was met with an ambulance to take me to the hospital. I was admitted and was kept there for ten days. During that time, I walked the halls a hundred times a day as a caged animal might. I could barely breathe. There was nothing waiting for me when I got out. I didn't even have a ride home. My sister called to encourage me, and I told her she was dead to me because of her honesty regarding my impending divorce. I severed every relationship and burned each bridge my family tried to build for me.
Dear Father,
I didn't realize it then, but you were there, walking those hallways with me, willing me to live, to turn to You, to give you my pain. I don't understand Your mercy and Your patience, and there are no words to thank You for Your love through it all! Dear Lord, these words have been so difficult to write, and only You were there in the midst of all the chaos, loving us all! God, Your grace is truly amazing. Thank You for giving me new life so I can look back and testify to Your love through it all! In Jesus' name...
As I ended the last post, I signed off with the glow of the earlier joyful days. It is so bittersweet to remember the days of a new baby and a marriage I was madly in love with. I finally had a family. I finally was loved and belonged. My husband, while quiet, showed me every day that he was committed to me and our little girl. Each smile, each time her tiny hand reached out for us, we melted. The three of us grew together and life was a dream come true.
We were in church every time the doors were opened. My husband, Mark, would lay in bed next to me and tell me how happy he was. I was so joyful in the Lord, and felt like a "real" Christian for the first time in my life. I don't know why I just couldn't stop the nagging fears and feelings of insecurity from invading my perfect world.
The first time I had a classic "panic attack", I was about thirteen. It went hand in hand with my descent into the dysfunctional relationship I had with Wayne. I distinctly remember being in the car with a woman counselor who I was in a one-on-one discipleship program with. All of a sudden, I felt that I was going to be sick. I didn't know what to do, she opened the window so I could get fresh air, and drove me home. As soon as I was alone, the feeling of panic went away. This panic developed into a phobia driven lifestyle, which would plague me for over two decades.
The first few years with my new little family were wonderful, and yet, I was still debilitated with social anxiety and intense jealousy of my husband. I was so afraid he would leave, I sometimes pushed him away and was suspicious of everything he did. I began to have irrational fears of being in crowds and public places to the point of having to leave the church services a few times during the message to go into the bathroom and splash water on my face. I couldn't go out to dinner or be in a mall without being near an exit. I was so thankful for the grace of God, yet I hated myself for being so weak. The Christianity I lived back then was one of duty and guilt - not because of the teaching at my church, but because of my inner battles and sense of self-loathing. I translated my own disgust with myself to God's view of me, and I just kept working harder to be good enough. The burden I lugged around in my fear-filled frame was eventually too heavy for me to carry.
When my baby Shelli was five months old, I had my first miscarriage. I didn't know I was pregnant, and as the nurses wheeled me into surgery for a D&C, one let out her secret to the other one that she had just learned she was pregnant. Her face went white when she realized I was losing a baby, and I comforted her by telling her I didn't know I was pregnant, so it was ok. Inside, I was aching. John, my pastor, and Gram and Grampy's son came to the hospital that day. I loved him so much for that! I don't think he every realized what that meant to me that day when everyone else acted like it was just a bump in the road.
A little over a year later, God blessed me with my little baby Danny. He grew to be such a delight to me and his father! Every day with our two little children was such a blessing. We grew as a family and went through the first tooth, first day of school, first little league game and first girls' sleepovers. Still the panic and jealousy pervaded my inner soul. Still I worked as hard as I could to be the best Christian possible. I worked hard at being the best, the prettiest, the thinnest until one day, the world came crashing down. I had two little children and I was under 100 pounds due to starvation. I was admitted to the hospital to gain weight and for a complete mental "breakdown". Ten weeks later, I was released. Embarrassed and angry at myself for losing the control I thought I had, I forged on, battling my weight and my inner demons.
As I worked at "arriving" spiritually, I nagged my husband to join me in my quest for perfection, begging him to pray with me and to be a better man. He worked tirelessly night and day as a police officer and I kept the home fires burning, but was scattered and unorganized, secretly belittling myself for not being a good cook, a perfect housekeeper, a supermom. On my quest to earn God's approval, I determined to read through the Bible in less than a year. The first time I read it, I gave myself "brownie points" for accomplishing my goal in only five months. I constantly compared myself to others, either chiding myself for not measuring up, or letting my pride get in the way if I thought I "did" Christianity better than those around me.
The second time I read the Bible through, I was sitting in my chair, absentmindedly rubbing my round belly, pregnant for the fourth time. Shelli and Danny were four and two years old. Finishing the chapter, I stood up and immediately began to hemorrhage. Bent over in pain, I ran to the bathroom to get a towel, called Mark and rushed to the hospital. The ultrasound showed that the baby was ok, and the bleeding subsided. The next day, we went for a second ultrasound and were told the baby had died sometime in the night. My options were to wait for my body to "deliver" the baby in the next week or two, or to go in for a procedure. My belly was full, and the baby was gone. I wanted the baby out. The surgery was scheduled, and I fell asleep to the anesthesia with tears coursing down my face. The next moment I was awake and led to a chair to sit for a while. My hands reached down to my flat, empty belly. Mark came in, knelt and put his head on my lap and cried. Over the next few months, we turned completely to the Lord, and I praised myself inwardly for handling everything so well. My faith grew and yet my concept of grace was still so wrong
Graced a year later with baby Michael, our miracle, life was busy and we were blessed! I did my best to be a great mom, and the kids grew. We built a house out in the country, Mark worked hard to provide for us, we became foster parents, and I threw myself into helping kids who needed to know they were loved. I created a "Welcome Wagon" for new kids entering the system and became president of our area Foster Parent Association. We took in adoption babies, and became an assessment home, helping to place kids with the right foster parents. We had kids ranging from 2 days old to fifteen years, with our own three children lost in the crowd. Our marriage became strained, and we began drinking to "destress" at the end of the day. I began taking my panic medicine, and went to my room when things became too overwhelming. When the foster kids were home with their parents and our own children with with their grandmother, Mark and I drank to get drunk. We couldn't keep up the facade of the perfect family and marriage any longer. We stopped going to church and fought each night behind closed doors, plodding along and accomplishing what we needed to do during the day to get by.
I heaped more and more on our plates, trying to be good enough, then blamed, accused and resented my husband for having nothing left for me at the end of the day. We sold the house and moved back to our old town in an effort to make life easier. Then the end came. I filed for separation because the fighting was too intense and I couldn't live with all the pressure I had added to our marriage. There were angry confrontations. Mark moved out on Christmas day. The foster children moved on. I had failed everyone, and Mark was awarded temporary physical custody of the kids in the first court hearing. Shelli and Danny wanted to be with their dad because I was an angry, out of control mother they didn't recognize. Michael left after I packed his backpack and gave him a picture of me to carry with him. I was broken. I wanted to die.
I called Gram and told her I had nothing left to live for. She called Meredith and they brought me to her house. I sobbed, trying to tell them I had no future. All my energy spent to be perfect had made me emotionally and physically bankrupt. Meredith pleaded with me to realize that this was not "the end". Nothing they said meant anything to me. My kids were gone and I was utterly alone. They brought me back home where I was met with an ambulance to take me to the hospital. I was admitted and was kept there for ten days. During that time, I walked the halls a hundred times a day as a caged animal might. I could barely breathe. There was nothing waiting for me when I got out. I didn't even have a ride home. My sister called to encourage me, and I told her she was dead to me because of her honesty regarding my impending divorce. I severed every relationship and burned each bridge my family tried to build for me.
Dear Father,
I didn't realize it then, but you were there, walking those hallways with me, willing me to live, to turn to You, to give you my pain. I don't understand Your mercy and Your patience, and there are no words to thank You for Your love through it all! Dear Lord, these words have been so difficult to write, and only You were there in the midst of all the chaos, loving us all! God, Your grace is truly amazing. Thank You for giving me new life so I can look back and testify to Your love through it all! In Jesus' name...
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