The holidays always seem like a mixed bag to me. At Bible Study this past week, we were asked to share some Christmas memories from our pasts. Other than my younger married years, predicting Christmas was impossible. At the home for girls where I lived as a youngster, Christmas was about carols and company. This was where I first learned about God coming to earth as a baby. It was a joyous time! Many a Christmas Eve found girls being picked up by family or friends to share in a small gathering. Mine was no different. My father came a few times to bring my sisters and me to wherever he lived at the time. I dreaded these times with him. All that was good and lovely seemed to get drowned in his drinking, with smoke from his cigarettes swirling around our heads. I usually went back to the girls' home with a headache and stomach-ache.
After Dad took us girls out of the home for good, he became a Jehovah's Witness, and eliminated Christmas completely from our home. One of his wives demanded that she be able to have a tree, so for a while, a Christmas tree was up all year long. He conceded, as long as the tree didn't signify Christmas on December 25.
I was able to celebrate some Christmas's with Gram and Grampy at their home, and those were the best times! Gram never drove a car, and Grampy wasn't a Christmas shopper, so imagine my surprise when I came out of my room on Christmas morning to find money all over the tree! Grampy said if I could name the president's, I could have the bills. I named them all the way up to Andrew Jackson! I just loved how Grampy teased me with a twinkle in his eye.
Later on, as I was a homeless teenager, I would take whatever was given me for my December birthday and either sell it to buy presents for Christmas, or I would simply re-gift the items. I poignantly remember a Cabbage Patch Kids doll sent to me by my sister, Robyn, from Japan. Robyn was stationed there for over a year. When I told someone at work what I got for my birthday, the bidding wars began for my doll. The Cabbage Patch craze was over the top that year, and hardly any could be found at the stores. This doll was still in the box, with Japanese writing and a Japanese birth certificate. I watched as the highest bidder clutched the doll and headed to her car for the holiday break.
As we all looked around our table at Bible Study this week, we were amazed at how many of us were struggling. A few months ago, we had decided to find a family to help for the holidays this year. Since that time, family after family has been faced with hardship. One couple is counting the days when they don't need to drive around in their car to get warm. The heating bill was just too high to pay. Another family is dealing with job loss. One single grandmother is searching for a way to raise her grandchild while burning the midnight oil at work. Hours at work have been cut back for another woman. We have a "senior saint" who is still waiting for senior housing. We all shared a laugh as one person piped up, "The joke was on us!", remembering the day when we were all prepared to share in buying gifts for a family less fortunate.
There was no bitterness in our laughter, and yet, we wondered what we could possibly give this year. I thought back to my time of re-gifting. Christmas is the time of year we want to give - but so often we get bogged down with the shopping, the stores, the empty bank account, and in our family, even the lack of food can get discouraging. What could I possible re-gift this year? It hit me like a ton of bricks!
Jesus was the gift. Yes, the Magi brought him presents, but He, Himself was the gift to the entire world. I have received that gift by faith in His sacrifice on the cross. I will walk streets of gold one day. I'm going to have a mansion in heaven and be in His presence for all eternity. This is the one thing I can re-gift, which will never lose it's value and will only cost me a few minutes of my time. Jesus is beautifully wrapped in the books of the Bible. He is on every single page, from Genesis to Revelation. If I could just give one Bible this year to one person, it would be the most valuable present I have ever re-gifted.
No matter what your budget or your plans this year - perhaps in your travels you might offer a smile, and encouraging word, a personal testimony, and then leave someone with God's Word with the miracle of Christ's birth highlighted for them. I plan to go through my New Testament and personally highlight each verse which points to the plan of salvation!
Dear Heavenly Father,
Please prepare a stranger's heart to receive Your gift through me. I have no plan - no one in mind - just a desire to share you. While it may be easier to lay Your Word down in some public place and hope it reaches someone, please give me courage to carry this gift with me until You show me who to personally give it to. Thank you for Christmas, and for wanting me to re-gift the present you so freely gave to me!
In Jesus Name...
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Pressed Down, Shaken Together
Holidays always cause me to reminisce about childhood memories here at Gram's home. The excitement and sense of love and happiness permeated every corner of this lovely home. A few days before, we would begin cleaning and dusting the house. When Thanksgiving came, the good dishes came out of the hutch, the turkey was in the oven and knocks began at the door. Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade would be in the background and we would all stop from time to time to watch the various floats go by (my favorite was Snoopy). In poured the family - aunts, uncles and cousins. It was not unusual for there to be twenty to thirty of us in the home as grandkids brought their own young children in latter years. We kids would find places to talk and play while the women rolled up their sleeves, smiling and sometimes giggling in the kitchen together. Grampy would be home from his annual 'hunting' trip (he was relentlessly ribbed by his hunting buddy's that he never once shot a deer), his big grin evident at the head of the table. Card tables were draped with tablecloths and pushed against the long dining room table, and we all finally sat down to pray and thank the Lord for family, friends, and another year together. After the meal, the football game was turned on and everyone lounged around the living room, some quietly playing games, others lost in conversation. It was serene and peaceful, and my young heart would nearly burst with joy at being with my family again.
Last Thanksgiving, a few of us remained around the table with my little Gram. How things had changed! Gram was tiny and frail and all of us kids were parents and some were grandparents themselves. Family times were now spent at other homes, with other traditions. I felt joy well up inside me as I looked around the table at the people I loved so dearly. Meredith, my daughter Shelli, and I were the ones in the kitchen. Paul and the boys spent time in the living room with Gram. Though things had changed so very much, there was a bond, with Gram at the center of our Thanksgiving. She had asked us all to write down four things we were thankful for. When Gram's turn came, she was thankful she was an American, as well as having lived a long, healthy life, and was very thankful for a new little great-grandson who was born on her birthday just a month prior. Our little band of eight bowed our heads in thankfulness to the Lord.
When Gram went to heaven in January, I knew things would change. I almost dreaded the holidays coming up. I didn't want things to change, and I still miss her so much! I figured the kids would go to their dad's and I could just sit on the couch with my bathrobe on, watching the Macy's parade. Little did I realize as the year unfolded, that God would bring friends and 'family' into my life in such an abundant way!
After Gram passed, I found a place to work in which I am able to bless the elderly every day! Though my physical limitations prevents me from doing the things I used to be able to do, I work for a family owned business which allows me to excel in other ways. Each life I am able to touch is a blessing to me! God brought Christian women into my workplace to encourage and bless the office just by walking through the door. Most mornings, we greet each other via text messaging and share an encouraging thought or a verse to start the day. My little girl is able to minister to the elderly in nursing homes regularly by singing, dancing, hugging and loving the dear people who sometimes have no one who cares. God brought amazing friends into our lives this year, in a way that has never happened in my prior 43 years!
Yes, I am still a struggling single mother. There are days which seem to flatten me physically and emotionally. I desperately miss my Gram and Grampy so much, especially when the bittersweet memories of days gone by crowd in around the holidays, but I am blessed beyond measure. All I have to do is look around me and see the blessings of new found friends and 'family', and I am brought to my knees in gratitude for the way the Lord has provided!
Grampy used to quote verses all day long. They were a comfort to me, and I never tired of listening to him. He was my hero, the love of my little life back then. Over time, as he quoted scripture in day-to-day conversation, they began to 'stick' in my heart. One verse which he quoted often comes to mind today as I look around in awe at all the Lord has done:
Luke 6:38
Give, and it will be given to you: good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over will be put into your bosom. For with the same measure that you use, it will be measured back to you.”
Grampy used to describe this verse as a box of cereal. You can fill the box to the top, but if you shake it and press it down, you can add even more! Each time you shake and press, there is room for more and more blessings to be added! Imagine the blessings God has for you, pressed down, shaken together and running over!
It is almost time to start getting ready to go. I thought I might just putter around the house today with a pint of Ben and Jerry's and feel sorry for myself, but my 'family' wouldn't hear of it. We are going to a place of warm embraces and boundless love. The kids will hear laughter and fall on their pillows with wonderful memories etched in their minds. Memories that will comfort and bless them for years to come. It just doesn't get any better than that!
Dear Heavenly Father,
Thank you so very much for memories! Help us all to savor each moment we have with loved ones and friends, for these memories will be engraved in our minds to comfort us when life inevitably changes. May we not look back to the past as the 'best days', but may we look forward and delight in what is here and now. There are times I succumb to deep loneliness, wondering how anything will ever be the same again. I thank You for Your comfort in the valleys, and Your reminder that there will come a day when we will have a family reunion that will last forever! In Jesus' name...
Last Thanksgiving, a few of us remained around the table with my little Gram. How things had changed! Gram was tiny and frail and all of us kids were parents and some were grandparents themselves. Family times were now spent at other homes, with other traditions. I felt joy well up inside me as I looked around the table at the people I loved so dearly. Meredith, my daughter Shelli, and I were the ones in the kitchen. Paul and the boys spent time in the living room with Gram. Though things had changed so very much, there was a bond, with Gram at the center of our Thanksgiving. She had asked us all to write down four things we were thankful for. When Gram's turn came, she was thankful she was an American, as well as having lived a long, healthy life, and was very thankful for a new little great-grandson who was born on her birthday just a month prior. Our little band of eight bowed our heads in thankfulness to the Lord.
When Gram went to heaven in January, I knew things would change. I almost dreaded the holidays coming up. I didn't want things to change, and I still miss her so much! I figured the kids would go to their dad's and I could just sit on the couch with my bathrobe on, watching the Macy's parade. Little did I realize as the year unfolded, that God would bring friends and 'family' into my life in such an abundant way!
After Gram passed, I found a place to work in which I am able to bless the elderly every day! Though my physical limitations prevents me from doing the things I used to be able to do, I work for a family owned business which allows me to excel in other ways. Each life I am able to touch is a blessing to me! God brought Christian women into my workplace to encourage and bless the office just by walking through the door. Most mornings, we greet each other via text messaging and share an encouraging thought or a verse to start the day. My little girl is able to minister to the elderly in nursing homes regularly by singing, dancing, hugging and loving the dear people who sometimes have no one who cares. God brought amazing friends into our lives this year, in a way that has never happened in my prior 43 years!
Yes, I am still a struggling single mother. There are days which seem to flatten me physically and emotionally. I desperately miss my Gram and Grampy so much, especially when the bittersweet memories of days gone by crowd in around the holidays, but I am blessed beyond measure. All I have to do is look around me and see the blessings of new found friends and 'family', and I am brought to my knees in gratitude for the way the Lord has provided!
Grampy used to quote verses all day long. They were a comfort to me, and I never tired of listening to him. He was my hero, the love of my little life back then. Over time, as he quoted scripture in day-to-day conversation, they began to 'stick' in my heart. One verse which he quoted often comes to mind today as I look around in awe at all the Lord has done:
Luke 6:38
Give, and it will be given to you: good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over will be put into your bosom. For with the same measure that you use, it will be measured back to you.”
Grampy used to describe this verse as a box of cereal. You can fill the box to the top, but if you shake it and press it down, you can add even more! Each time you shake and press, there is room for more and more blessings to be added! Imagine the blessings God has for you, pressed down, shaken together and running over!
It is almost time to start getting ready to go. I thought I might just putter around the house today with a pint of Ben and Jerry's and feel sorry for myself, but my 'family' wouldn't hear of it. We are going to a place of warm embraces and boundless love. The kids will hear laughter and fall on their pillows with wonderful memories etched in their minds. Memories that will comfort and bless them for years to come. It just doesn't get any better than that!
Dear Heavenly Father,
Thank you so very much for memories! Help us all to savor each moment we have with loved ones and friends, for these memories will be engraved in our minds to comfort us when life inevitably changes. May we not look back to the past as the 'best days', but may we look forward and delight in what is here and now. There are times I succumb to deep loneliness, wondering how anything will ever be the same again. I thank You for Your comfort in the valleys, and Your reminder that there will come a day when we will have a family reunion that will last forever! In Jesus' name...
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Don't Miss the Promises!
What has God asked you to do that you are putting off? That was the question posed by my pastor this morning from the pulpit as he relayed the message from the first chapter of Haggai. The children of Israel were building homes for themselves since returning from exile, yet their consensus was that it wasn't the right time to rebuild the temple. Though they were doing all the other right things, God's instruction was not their priority. "You have sown much, and bring in little; You eat, but do not have enough; You drink, but are not filled with drink; You clothe yourselves, but no one is warm; and he who earns wages, earns wages to put into a bag of holes." (Haggai 1:6) And yet, "I am with you," says the Lord. (vs 13b)
I needed that message. I believe God has prompted, encouraged and made it clear to me to write about Him through many years of my life. When my heart is not right with God, I stop writing. It seems that nothing comes to me naturally in my times of drought. Since my writing is about my relationship with the Lord, it doesn't seem appropriate for me to ever put my thoughts down to share if I have not first approach Him in humble and earnest prayer. What's the cure for an arid, barren soul when creativity and joy elude me? Go back to the beginning - the first seeds of the dream and find out what has stolen my joy. Without fail, I can always trace my lack of motivation to something in my own heart that isn't right with my Savior.
I have been reading over and over again in the Old Testament about the Israelites straying from the Lord. He raised up prophets to bring warnings to them, and usually the warnings went hand in hand with an alternate promise for restoration and blessings as well. It all hinged on the choices they made next - not that "works" impress the Lord. There's nothing we can do in our lives to make Him love us any more than He does right now, and on the flip side, there's also nothing we can do to cause Him to love us any less. No, but the Israelite's actions in response to the prophets' warnings or blessing would reflect the condition of their hearts.
As I was reading this scenario repeatedly in the Old testament in my devotional time, I really wondered why the Children of Israel couldn't seem to get excited about the promises of God. At the same time, I have had to ask myself that same question. In my own life, when I get so overwhelmed with the immediate issues and needs in my own little world, I tend to skim over the blessings promised in the Bible, become hardened to them or worse - I secretly wonder if His blessings are for other, better people. I miss His love and grace all too often as I focus on my own achievements or lack therof as the catalyst for all that He has already offered to me in His Word. In reality, He is still living in me, with all the power of the Holy Spirit. When I secretly struggle with Him over control of my life, my ears become deaf to His love and promises - just like the Israelites.
Picture your Father, standing in front of you with a beautifully wrapped gift containing the thing He has personally chosen for you - something He knows will bring joy to your heart! Now picture Him as he watches you set the gift aside without unwrapping it to walk out the door with your head down because you know your relationship with Him has grown cold! The promises are still as bright, but your heavy heart has made you indifferent and distant.
So the question is - what has God asked you to do that you aren't doing? More importantly - why aren't you? I'm so thankful that I receive the blessings that come from obedience to His prompting when I sit down to write! Writing is not only a gift God has so graciously given to me, wrapped up in the beauty of His love - it is also a gift I can give back to Him! When I can meditate on His promises as I pray for grace to obey, I am whole. You have a purpose that is unique to you, and it is a gift from the Lord. Go back to the beginning and find that joyous seed in your soul. Remember the dream placed in your heart long ago that just won't die? Dust yourself off, take hold of His hand and allow Him to breathe His promise to never leave you as He equips you to do the thing He created you for. What are you waiting for?
Dear Heavenly Father,
Thank You for your promises. May I never allow the noise, worry or frustration of sin to drown out Your gently whispered promises. When You chose to describe Yourself in one word, You chose the word love. Please help me to remember that You, in your lovingkindness and mercy, have drawn me to You. Though I will never comprehend the depth and height, width or breadth, please keep my heart soft and my ears open to all You have to say to me. Please help us all to put aside whatever hinders, open our ears to Your calling, embrace the gifts You are offering, and then offer them back to you as we seek to do Your will. In Jesus name...
I needed that message. I believe God has prompted, encouraged and made it clear to me to write about Him through many years of my life. When my heart is not right with God, I stop writing. It seems that nothing comes to me naturally in my times of drought. Since my writing is about my relationship with the Lord, it doesn't seem appropriate for me to ever put my thoughts down to share if I have not first approach Him in humble and earnest prayer. What's the cure for an arid, barren soul when creativity and joy elude me? Go back to the beginning - the first seeds of the dream and find out what has stolen my joy. Without fail, I can always trace my lack of motivation to something in my own heart that isn't right with my Savior.
I have been reading over and over again in the Old Testament about the Israelites straying from the Lord. He raised up prophets to bring warnings to them, and usually the warnings went hand in hand with an alternate promise for restoration and blessings as well. It all hinged on the choices they made next - not that "works" impress the Lord. There's nothing we can do in our lives to make Him love us any more than He does right now, and on the flip side, there's also nothing we can do to cause Him to love us any less. No, but the Israelite's actions in response to the prophets' warnings or blessing would reflect the condition of their hearts.
As I was reading this scenario repeatedly in the Old testament in my devotional time, I really wondered why the Children of Israel couldn't seem to get excited about the promises of God. At the same time, I have had to ask myself that same question. In my own life, when I get so overwhelmed with the immediate issues and needs in my own little world, I tend to skim over the blessings promised in the Bible, become hardened to them or worse - I secretly wonder if His blessings are for other, better people. I miss His love and grace all too often as I focus on my own achievements or lack therof as the catalyst for all that He has already offered to me in His Word. In reality, He is still living in me, with all the power of the Holy Spirit. When I secretly struggle with Him over control of my life, my ears become deaf to His love and promises - just like the Israelites.
Picture your Father, standing in front of you with a beautifully wrapped gift containing the thing He has personally chosen for you - something He knows will bring joy to your heart! Now picture Him as he watches you set the gift aside without unwrapping it to walk out the door with your head down because you know your relationship with Him has grown cold! The promises are still as bright, but your heavy heart has made you indifferent and distant.
So the question is - what has God asked you to do that you aren't doing? More importantly - why aren't you? I'm so thankful that I receive the blessings that come from obedience to His prompting when I sit down to write! Writing is not only a gift God has so graciously given to me, wrapped up in the beauty of His love - it is also a gift I can give back to Him! When I can meditate on His promises as I pray for grace to obey, I am whole. You have a purpose that is unique to you, and it is a gift from the Lord. Go back to the beginning and find that joyous seed in your soul. Remember the dream placed in your heart long ago that just won't die? Dust yourself off, take hold of His hand and allow Him to breathe His promise to never leave you as He equips you to do the thing He created you for. What are you waiting for?
Dear Heavenly Father,
Thank You for your promises. May I never allow the noise, worry or frustration of sin to drown out Your gently whispered promises. When You chose to describe Yourself in one word, You chose the word love. Please help me to remember that You, in your lovingkindness and mercy, have drawn me to You. Though I will never comprehend the depth and height, width or breadth, please keep my heart soft and my ears open to all You have to say to me. Please help us all to put aside whatever hinders, open our ears to Your calling, embrace the gifts You are offering, and then offer them back to you as we seek to do Your will. In Jesus name...
Thursday, October 21, 2010
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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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