These words and thoughts have been on my mind for years. They float around among the more organized content in my brain and I've been too...scared? proud? to acknowledge them enough to put them in their place. Lately the need to catch them all and file them neatly in my mind has been greater than usual. My hope is that if you are someone that has went through divorce, you can maybe relate and the guilt and shame doesn't feel as heavy because you realize you're not alone in your feelings and thoughts. If you're someone who may be considering divorce, I hope these words at least give you pause. These are things I've experienced that would have made me think twice about ending my marriage.
I also feel it necessary to say that if you're in an abusive marriage or one that is afflicted with infidelity, your situation needs special care and I want to be up front and say my previous marriage had neither abuse or infidelity. I hope this clarifies my perspective and where I'm coming from as I write this. With that said, I've seen marriages rise above the ashes of infidelity and truly believe there is hope in every situation.
These are truths that I have experienced that I have wished someone would have discussed with me over a cup of coffee before I signed the line that turned a covenant into a broken promise. For my friends considering divorce, I want these words to be a way for me to hold your hand down a different path than the one I've traveled. I want these words to be an encouragement not to give up just yet and see that maybe the grass isn't as green as you may think on the other side of that dotted line.
The Scarlet Letter "D" - What Comes After
1) Complete independence and single parenting requires an extreme amount of work and energy. Though I was physically capable of working full time to support me and my children, keeping a household, making meals, getting us to appointments, grocery shopping, completing house and yard maintenance and spending intentional time with my children I quickly realized why this is all best done by two people and not one. Things broke and stayed broken, I traded work and home repairs for precious time with my kids, I forgot about school projects and missed special events because I had to work long hours to pay the bills. I had no idea just how hard doing the work of two people truly was.
2) Though we live in a culture that boasts itself to be open-minded these days, I realized quickly that the Scarlet Letter D truly was a brand I wore that carried with it shame, disapproval and a declaration of a brokenness I was not yet aware of in myself. There were more than a few times I was told that I would be great "relationship material" if only I wasn't divorced. I felt as if I was a broken thing that no one had the time or interest to piece back together, even before I realized anything was broken.
3) Loneliness is something I denied myself at first but over time sunk deeply into my heart once I realized I was "used goods" that had lost her value. This made it easy for me to numb myself in defense of getting my feelings hurt and soon I had convinced myself I needed no one and life would be just fine shutting out anyone who tried to get in. I built a strong wall around myself and any relationships after that became superficial because I didn't trust anyone to actually value me since I had become convinced I wasn't valuable with that Scarlet Letter D burning a whole through my chest.
4) The picture of the beautiful life that starts once you've ended a bad marriage and removed yourself from the presence of someone who makes you unhappy is an illusion. Let me say that again. The idea you have in your mind of joyous independence, the ability to do life your own way and everlasting happiness outside of the covenant you made with God and your spouse is a lie. After the initial excitement of newfound freedom wears off you realize that everything is more difficult. Parenting, paying bills, finding time outside of work and responsibilities becomes a huge struggle. Divorce is something you do to maybe make your life better, but in actuality is something that requires you to give more of yourself away. The chaos that often follows a divorce chews you up and spits you out and leaves you wondering who you really are and what was it that you wanted out of this in the first place?
5) By far the most difficult and hurtful truth of all is that I experienced and witnessed the pain my children went through because of divorce. I can truly and emphatically say that any pain or neglect I felt in my first marriage doesn't compare to the pain of my two little boys asking why their parents don't love each other looking at me with those big, blue innocent eyes. To get divorced is to take a picture of what your children know to be security and love and rip it apart leaving them with the task to create a different painting of what family should look like. There is no reasonable explanation I can offer them. Any pain or hardship I experienced because of the divorce my children experienced tenfold and one sad day the realization sunk in that my choice is what caused their undeserving pain. Though their Dad and I have an amicable relationship and have done a decent job of co-parenting, this is not the life we promised our children the day they were born. Even after almost a decade, my boys still ask me why their Dad and I couldn't stay married and there is nothing I can offer them that even feels like a valid answer. How can you explain to a child that a sacred covenant you made with God can be broken by a simple swipe of a pen? How can I explain to them that something that was meant to be permanent fell apart because I got my feelings hurt? How can I explain to them I gave up on something because I valued my happiness over theirs? Though I know God has forgiven me of this, I still struggle daily with forgiving myself and only hope that I will earn my children's forgiveness when they are old enough to fully understand the concept of marriage and divorce. I also live with fear that they will allow their own marriages to fall apart because this is the first model of marriage that they witnessed. I go to great lengths now to help them understand the beautiful, sometimes heart-wrenching, amazing, difficult, lifelong journey that marriage is supposed to be. I got it wrong the first time and I will spend the rest of my life trying to get it right.
I know these are things no one really says or talks about when it comes to marriage and divorce but these are words that may have saved my first marriage had I heard them and opened my mind to the possibility that divorce wasn't the best answer to my unhappiness and discontent. My intention here is that these words give hope to those struggling in their marriage; divorce isn't the only answer. If you're in the aftermath of divorce my hope is that you are made aware that grace is within reach-you don't have to carry The Scarlet Letter D of shame on your chest; you are loved and valued.
I'll write next on how I began to overcome shame, received grace and learned what marriage truly is as a blended family.
Sunday, November 10, 2019
Sunday, March 10, 2019
Crash Into Me
My husband and I attended a wedding this weekend. It was his first experience as a groomsman and being the kind of guy that enjoys a suit and a celebration the excitement of the day fared well with him. As he was busy doing the things groomsmen do during a wedding ceremony I sat with our family and chatted about the love between our two friends and how beautiful the day had turned out to be.
The weather man had predicted rain but we sat under a sky full of sunshine and a slightly warm wind. Sometimes March days in Georgia can be pleasantly surprising. As I listened to the preacher talk about how Earthly marriage mirrors that of Christ and His bride, the church, my mind wandered around all the ways marriage will truly teach you the practice of unconditional love, the kind of love Jesus has for us.
My husband and I have been through some tough seasons in our short two and a half years of marriage. Shortly after we were married he was diagnosed with bi-polar depression(I say this with his permission). If you know anyone who suffers from this disease, or any mental illness for that matter, you know it can be soul-wrenching attack on the person suffering from it. I have seen my husband wrestle with darkness so consuming I thought it was going to take me too. For those who don't know the afflictions of depression, the best way I can describe it is to tell you about a movie I loved as a child. It was called The Neverending Story and in this movie a little boy is reading a book and gets so caught up in the story he becomes a part of it. The story's hero, Atreyu, is tasked with saving the world by fighting The Nothing, a dark entity represented by clouds and an evil wolf-like animal that kills and destroys everything it comes in contact with. Depression is so much like The Nothing. You never know when it's all consuming cloud of darkness will settle in the mind of the afflicted and as it torments and tears apart the one you love, you try desperately to fight a "nothing" that you can't get your hands on. I've witnessed my husband become so exhausted with fighting this "nothing" that he wanted to give up. These type of things can make dark seasons in a marriage.
Yet there is always light.
There are a lot of things I've learned from living with someone with depression and one of those things is to really soak in the light when it comes. Sometimes the light sticks around for a long time, sometimes long enough that the darkness becomes a distant memory in the back of my mind. My husband and I have had a good stretch of those days lately and just like that surprising March sunshine we experienced this weekend I have soaked in these good days and know that despite visits from darkness the light will always come.
I had hardly seen Bradley(my husband) for two days as we worked our full time jobs and he prepared for the wedding. Our children were away for the weekend and I was looking forward to seeing him. I've never seen a man wear a suit like my husband. He is dashing, complete confidence from head to toe and his bright smile finishes off the look of a man I could have only dreamed would end up being mine.
I stood at the bar waiting in line as the reception started. I still had only caught a glimpse of him as he escorted a bridesmaid, took pictures with the wedding party and stood far away enough for me to catch that trademark smile. I was anxious to be near him. I felt a hand around my waist and there he was. He is so handsome I have to catch my breath. Butterflies flutter in my belly. His familiar smell sweet in my nose. I want to breathe all of him in. The Dave Matthews song 'Crash Into Me' begins playing in my mind and for two seconds no one exists but us. Yes, even after five years together I still feel this. I feel the magnetic force closing in the space between us when we're apart. I have seen the darkness behind that brilliant smile and love him all the same.
Love is dark and light. Marriage is harsh winters, bone cold in their loneliness and desolation and it is also warm sunshine, love songs and sweet breezes filling the air with the scent of your beloved. It is all of these things.
I soaked in the light that day. I'm still soaking it in. I'm thanking God for these moments, for this man I get to call my husband, for those arms that hold me at night and the love I get to carry with me when the world gets dark and the nothing returns for us to once again remind it that we are fearless fighters with God and love on our side.
"The Lord is my Light and Salvation;whom shall I fear?" Psalm 27:1
Friday, February 15, 2019
Relentless Pursuit: The Chase for my Heart
It was early 2014 and I was tired. During the week I struggled to feel like a good Mom to my boys. I spent a lot of weekends drinking and spending time in places that oozed sin and brokenness. On occasion I would go to church but I spent most of the sermon trying not to fall asleep after staying up too late on Saturday night sacrificing sleep for a dysfunctional social life. At one of my lowest points while my boys were away at their Dad's, I had a friend I was with drop me off at my car and I slept in the church parking lot from about 4am until the next Sunday morning because I was too tired to drive home and shower before church the next day. Even in that season of darkness I think I was drawn to church because I knew I needed God in my life even though I kept him at a comfortable distance so I could continue living how I wanted without feeling convicted that I wasn't living how I should. Deep within I knew I needed Him but I just wasn't ready to face who I had become. I wasn't ready to face who He is.
Love was a word that left a bitter taste in my mouth. I scoffed at the thought. For several years I remained single after my divorce and though I dated, each experience only solidified the lies that the enemy fed into my mind and I readily digested. Love didn't exist. Love wasn't real. If it was real, I didn't deserve it. Men were only interested in my body and since a body is all I saw myself to be that's what I focused on.
I trained relentlessly in 2013-14. I hired a coach and threw myself into powerlifting. If you're not familiar with the sport it essentially focuses on how much weight you can lift in three compound movements: the squat, deadlift and bench press. I was such a mess on the inside I became obsessed with making myself strong on the outside. During this time I was the healthiest physically I have ever been in my life. I was confident and the attention I was given fueled an unsavory lack of clothing and a harvest of selfies on my social media. On one hand I was riding the "I am woman, hear me roar" train and was proud that I was part of a movement that crushed stereotypes that women couldn't be as strong as men. Often I would be in the weight room lifting significantly more than my male counterparts. It felt good to be an athlete that crossed gender lines in a sport originally made for men. On top of that I never met a fellow male powerlifter that wasn't completely supportive of women in the sport. I was always treated as an equal at the powerlifting gym I trained at and was never made to feel less than. This wasn't a bad thing. I still love this about the sport. On the other hand, I was becoming too focused on myself. My boys would do their homework at the gym while I trained. My clothing got smaller, tighter and shorter and my head got bigger. The more attention I got the more I wanted. I was starving for it but no matter how much I was given it didn't satisfy. I was desperately trying to fill an emptiness and didn't even realize it at the time. So there I went, filling myself up with self love, occasional weekends of alcohol, superficial relationships, lies about love. Anything but God.
No, I couldn't go to Him. I was a mess. What would He want with me? I was okay with the idea of Him loving me as only He could, but from a distance.
In the later half of 2014 I felt a stirring within me. It took several months for me to fully understand what it was. I was exhausted. Keeping up with my training schedule was becoming too much of a sacrifice and I began to realize it was taking too much precious time away from my growing boys. Although my nutrition was great and I was taking care of my body in the gym, I wasn't getting near enough sleep and spending too many weekends out at nightclubs or parties drinking when the boys weren't home. Add to this a full time job and I was coming to the end of my energy supply. As I began to eliminate some of this grueling schedule that's when I began to feel a shift. Other things in my life began to happen and eventually my path changed. (You can read more about my full testimony and what would eventually be the catalyst to my complete transformation in my earlier post 'Breakthrough: My Testimony').
When I finally realized the vacancy in my soul belonged to God and not all the other things I was trying to shove in there a crazy thing happened. He started to chase me. Not in a weird, stalker after prey kind of way, but in the way a sincere and honorable man chases his beloved, the one who holds his heart in her hands.
He knows I love music. After all, he put that love in my heart when he made me. He knows I feel melodies and harmonies in the depths of my being. When I close my eyes I can see undulating waves of sound. I've done this since I was a little girl. For months before I finally surrendered to Him he would play Oceans by Hillsong United everywhere! I would go to a store, there it was. I would turn on Pandora, there it was. I would wake to a radio alarm, there it was. At first it didn't make sense. What was He trying to tell me? Later I would realize how those lyrics applied to my life.
I've always been amazed at sunsets/sunrises and a cotton candy sky. So many mornings and nights I would wake or drive home underneath the most beautiful skies. They were magnificent! I could feel His glory as I looked up at them. Song after song, sunset after sunset I began to realize He was after my heart. Like a groom gifting his bride with flowers and jewelry, here God was showing out with these over the top skies because He knew I loved them so. He made playlists of songs just for us and slowly my heart began to respond.
Sound crazy? What do you think a girl who thinks love doesn't exist thought about all this? I was in shock. ME ?! You did all this for me?? But I ignored you for years! I pushed you away! I idolized myself and many other things over You! There is literally a million other humans that have lived in less sin and are worthy of all this attention, why would You pick me to be Yours after all I've done??
But He did. And He still does. And He wants you too. Matter of fact, I bet He's chasing you right now. You know those things you notice in the mundane moments of life? Those things you really enjoy and marvel at, the ones that make you smile? That's Him. What does He want with you? Your heart. He wants you to be His. Not in a possessive controlling way but in the way that when life gets really hard(and it will if it isn't already, trust me) that you will lean into Him because He knows He's the only One that can help you through those valleys. He knows you're broken and all the things you've ever done and yet He wants to love you with an everlasting love. He wants to be for you everything this world and all it offers just cannot be. He wants to be your rest when you're exhausted. He wants to be the Father you never had. Beautiful girl, He wants to be the reason you don't have to wear that dress that shows every curve and incites fantasies in the men you meet so you feel worthy and captivating(I've been this girl, too). He wants to give you eyes that see because when you let Him love you, the world in all it's darkness becomes a brighter place under the light of His glory. He wants to overfill any empty spaces so you can go out and give that love to others who don't yet know that this Love exists. He's got a great plan for you and He's waiting to tell you all about it.
And here's the thing I wrestled with and finally had to realize, I couldn't believe in God and not believe in Love. Love exists. It always has. Love isn't the sum of your human experience either. Love has much less to do with how other humans have shown you love and everything to do with who God is. Don't let humans define your idea of Love. They will fail every time. And that's okay, because we're not built to carry the glory of what Love is. Let God carry the glory for that. He's really good at it and He will never falter under the heaviness of what Love requires sometimes.
My relationship with God today is so different than I ever imagined. I think I grew up with this idea that He was this big entity that I couldn't touch. Yet today we have a closeness I would have never expected. The longer I walk with Him the better I can discern His voice. Though the last few years of my life I've went through some tremendous hardship, He has been with me through it all and I know I wouldn't have survived it without Him. He has mended my wounds and been here to console my bruised and battered heart. He has reminded me that I am His and He is mine(lyrics from Oceans that are engraved in my heart from the start of all this).
I'll end this post with a song He gave to me a while ago. It's lyrics are powerful and when I listen to this I can feel His loving arms reminding me how in love He is and has always been with me. With all of us. We are the Bride and He is the relentless pursuer, the chaser of our hearts, the Groom we were made for. Let Him love you, friends.
Love was a word that left a bitter taste in my mouth. I scoffed at the thought. For several years I remained single after my divorce and though I dated, each experience only solidified the lies that the enemy fed into my mind and I readily digested. Love didn't exist. Love wasn't real. If it was real, I didn't deserve it. Men were only interested in my body and since a body is all I saw myself to be that's what I focused on.
I trained relentlessly in 2013-14. I hired a coach and threw myself into powerlifting. If you're not familiar with the sport it essentially focuses on how much weight you can lift in three compound movements: the squat, deadlift and bench press. I was such a mess on the inside I became obsessed with making myself strong on the outside. During this time I was the healthiest physically I have ever been in my life. I was confident and the attention I was given fueled an unsavory lack of clothing and a harvest of selfies on my social media. On one hand I was riding the "I am woman, hear me roar" train and was proud that I was part of a movement that crushed stereotypes that women couldn't be as strong as men. Often I would be in the weight room lifting significantly more than my male counterparts. It felt good to be an athlete that crossed gender lines in a sport originally made for men. On top of that I never met a fellow male powerlifter that wasn't completely supportive of women in the sport. I was always treated as an equal at the powerlifting gym I trained at and was never made to feel less than. This wasn't a bad thing. I still love this about the sport. On the other hand, I was becoming too focused on myself. My boys would do their homework at the gym while I trained. My clothing got smaller, tighter and shorter and my head got bigger. The more attention I got the more I wanted. I was starving for it but no matter how much I was given it didn't satisfy. I was desperately trying to fill an emptiness and didn't even realize it at the time. So there I went, filling myself up with self love, occasional weekends of alcohol, superficial relationships, lies about love. Anything but God.
No, I couldn't go to Him. I was a mess. What would He want with me? I was okay with the idea of Him loving me as only He could, but from a distance.
In the later half of 2014 I felt a stirring within me. It took several months for me to fully understand what it was. I was exhausted. Keeping up with my training schedule was becoming too much of a sacrifice and I began to realize it was taking too much precious time away from my growing boys. Although my nutrition was great and I was taking care of my body in the gym, I wasn't getting near enough sleep and spending too many weekends out at nightclubs or parties drinking when the boys weren't home. Add to this a full time job and I was coming to the end of my energy supply. As I began to eliminate some of this grueling schedule that's when I began to feel a shift. Other things in my life began to happen and eventually my path changed. (You can read more about my full testimony and what would eventually be the catalyst to my complete transformation in my earlier post 'Breakthrough: My Testimony').
When I finally realized the vacancy in my soul belonged to God and not all the other things I was trying to shove in there a crazy thing happened. He started to chase me. Not in a weird, stalker after prey kind of way, but in the way a sincere and honorable man chases his beloved, the one who holds his heart in her hands.
He knows I love music. After all, he put that love in my heart when he made me. He knows I feel melodies and harmonies in the depths of my being. When I close my eyes I can see undulating waves of sound. I've done this since I was a little girl. For months before I finally surrendered to Him he would play Oceans by Hillsong United everywhere! I would go to a store, there it was. I would turn on Pandora, there it was. I would wake to a radio alarm, there it was. At first it didn't make sense. What was He trying to tell me? Later I would realize how those lyrics applied to my life.
I've always been amazed at sunsets/sunrises and a cotton candy sky. So many mornings and nights I would wake or drive home underneath the most beautiful skies. They were magnificent! I could feel His glory as I looked up at them. Song after song, sunset after sunset I began to realize He was after my heart. Like a groom gifting his bride with flowers and jewelry, here God was showing out with these over the top skies because He knew I loved them so. He made playlists of songs just for us and slowly my heart began to respond.
Sound crazy? What do you think a girl who thinks love doesn't exist thought about all this? I was in shock. ME ?! You did all this for me?? But I ignored you for years! I pushed you away! I idolized myself and many other things over You! There is literally a million other humans that have lived in less sin and are worthy of all this attention, why would You pick me to be Yours after all I've done??
But He did. And He still does. And He wants you too. Matter of fact, I bet He's chasing you right now. You know those things you notice in the mundane moments of life? Those things you really enjoy and marvel at, the ones that make you smile? That's Him. What does He want with you? Your heart. He wants you to be His. Not in a possessive controlling way but in the way that when life gets really hard(and it will if it isn't already, trust me) that you will lean into Him because He knows He's the only One that can help you through those valleys. He knows you're broken and all the things you've ever done and yet He wants to love you with an everlasting love. He wants to be for you everything this world and all it offers just cannot be. He wants to be your rest when you're exhausted. He wants to be the Father you never had. Beautiful girl, He wants to be the reason you don't have to wear that dress that shows every curve and incites fantasies in the men you meet so you feel worthy and captivating(I've been this girl, too). He wants to give you eyes that see because when you let Him love you, the world in all it's darkness becomes a brighter place under the light of His glory. He wants to overfill any empty spaces so you can go out and give that love to others who don't yet know that this Love exists. He's got a great plan for you and He's waiting to tell you all about it.
And here's the thing I wrestled with and finally had to realize, I couldn't believe in God and not believe in Love. Love exists. It always has. Love isn't the sum of your human experience either. Love has much less to do with how other humans have shown you love and everything to do with who God is. Don't let humans define your idea of Love. They will fail every time. And that's okay, because we're not built to carry the glory of what Love is. Let God carry the glory for that. He's really good at it and He will never falter under the heaviness of what Love requires sometimes.
My relationship with God today is so different than I ever imagined. I think I grew up with this idea that He was this big entity that I couldn't touch. Yet today we have a closeness I would have never expected. The longer I walk with Him the better I can discern His voice. Though the last few years of my life I've went through some tremendous hardship, He has been with me through it all and I know I wouldn't have survived it without Him. He has mended my wounds and been here to console my bruised and battered heart. He has reminded me that I am His and He is mine(lyrics from Oceans that are engraved in my heart from the start of all this).
I'll end this post with a song He gave to me a while ago. It's lyrics are powerful and when I listen to this I can feel His loving arms reminding me how in love He is and has always been with me. With all of us. We are the Bride and He is the relentless pursuer, the chaser of our hearts, the Groom we were made for. Let Him love you, friends.
Well, I don't know how to explain it
But I know that words will hardly do
Miracles with signs and wonders
Aren't enough for me to prove to you
But I know that words will hardly do
Miracles with signs and wonders
Aren't enough for me to prove to you
Don't you know I've always loved you
Even before there was time
Though you turn away, I'll tell you still
Don't you know I've always loved you, and I always will
Even before there was time
Though you turn away, I'll tell you still
Don't you know I've always loved you, and I always will
Greater love has not a man
Than the one who gives his life to prove
That he would do anything
And that's what I'm going to do for you
Than the one who gives his life to prove
That he would do anything
And that's what I'm going to do for you
Don't you know I've always loved you
Even before there was time
Though you turn away, I'll tell you still
Don't you know I've always loved you
Even before there was time
Though you turn away, I'll tell you still
Don't you know I've always loved you
Saturday, July 7, 2018
Who Does She Think She Is?
The Early Years
I grew up on a few acres in a small town in Northwest Georgia. Our home was small by some standards, but it never felt small to me. My Dad's name is Howard and he is the hardest worker I have ever known. He still is. There were very few moments in my young life that I witnessed my father sitting still. He was usually away at work, slaving away at the paper mill, perfecting a work ethic that would eventually sustain a 40 year career at that place. When he was home he was still working, either in the yard or on a car. My mother, Debbie, stayed home and cooked, cleaned and blessed my brother and I with a maternal love that was more than we could have ever asked for. She was soft, tender and even when we drove her to her breaking point we never questioned her love for us. By "us", I mean my brother Justin and I. Justin was born about two years after I was and immediately I loved him. He was a living baby doll in my eyes. That is, until he started talking. Our younger years were a constant push and pull for attention with long breaks in between of a familial companionship that I think happens especially with siblings who are close in age.
Early in the morning, before the sun would rise, I would hear the stirrings of my father as he prepared to go to work. The house would be quiet and dark, my brother and mother still sleeping, and I would make my way to the soft light coming from the bathroom. I would sit on the counter in silence, watching my Dad in the mirror as he shaved his face. The coffee would be brewing and the bitter fragrance of the coffee would mix with his aftershave and cologne. It was a mesmerizing and delectable scent. In those moments I felt safe, secure and so very close to him. It was just the two of us in the world in that half hour or so in the early morning and I looked forward to it each day. We didn't talk much, we didn't have to. I appreciated being with him and having him to myself and I think he knew I was just a little girl fascinated by her father, wanting to be just like him some day. Quiet, strong, respected and hard working. I admired him very much and still do. When it was time for him to go he would turn on the TV with the volume down low and I would watch Tarzan(the black and white version) until my mother woke up to get us ready for school.
My mother is beautiful. She has bright blue eyes, soft, pale skin and tiny hands. She gave me comfort like nothing else. If I was hurting or sad, she would take me in her arms and I would lose my worries in her powdery scent and softness. There has always been mystery behind her blue eyes and even today I know there are parts of her I don't know. Most importantly, I have known her love. On summer days she would lay in the lush grass as my father did yard work and we would imagine whole worlds beneath the green blades and leaves. We would part the grass and see ants, crickets and other bugs scurrying around and we would imagine where they were going and what their little bug-lives were like. Each evening she would begin preparing dinner. I remember watching her small hands peel endless mounds of potatoes, mixing cornmeal and buttermilk with them to make cornbread and then washing dishes in scalding water after the meal was complete. I always marveled at how unfazed she was at the scalding water as she scrubbed pots and pans, her tiny hands never lost their softness despite all the abuse.
Whether I liked it or not, Justin was my only consistent friend. On summer days we would head outside just after sunrise and would explore, create and adventure until the sun went down, stopping only if Mom called us in for lunch. We had several peach, cherry, plum and walnut trees on the property and my brother and I would use the unripened fruit to make "stews" to accompany our mud pies. When the fruit was ripe we would pluck quick snacks off the trees in between adventures. Three acres doesn't seem like much to some, but to us it was a world of endless possibilities. While Dad was at work we would rummage through his tool shed taking hammers to the big granite rocks we would find hoping that once we crushed them there would be some rare gemstone inside. Unfortunately we never found any gemstones. What we did find were our imaginations. Some days we would pretend to be characters in made up stories. Some days we laid in the tall grass so that all we could see were the golden blades blowing in the wind and the clouds floating by against the blue sky talking about nothing in particular. And when we heard Dad's old pick up truck turn into the gravel driveway we ran as fast as we could back to the house.
My Dad would watch TV after dinner for a little while before going to bed. I remember sitting in the living room floor watching Tour of Duty and feeling grown up even though I really didn't understand most of what was going on. Sometimes I would get bored trying to understand and I would put my headphones on and listen to George Michael, Tiffany or the Beatles on my little portable cassette player and lay underneath my Dad's feet as he laid back in the reclining chair. I'm not sure how he never managed to close the chair on my face. I guess he always knew I was under there.
My Mom would tuck my brother and I into bed. If we asked she would gently caress our arms and hair until we fell asleep, her small fingers relaxing me into dreams. Sometimes she would sing Jesus Loves Me softly to us as we drifted off.
Birthdays were one of my mother's specialties. She always, even to this day, makes me feel special on my birthday. When I was little she would often make a strawberry cake from scratch. My favorite. We would spend the weekend somewhere away from home, sometimes it was the lake, sometimes it was the beach. My brother's birthday is just a few weeks after mine so some years she would celebrate them together and I didn't mind really. We always received our own special gifts, individual cake and lots of attention. As I got to be an older teen I lost some appreciation for this. It wasn't until I was a bit older that I realized life really should be celebrated. Surviving in this world another year is a big deal and it just feels good for the ones you love to let you know you're special to them. It's this that makes my own boys' birthdays such a big deal to me. It's a wonderful opportunity to take a break from the daily grind and let them know they are loved and life is worth celebrating. I'm glad my mother instilled this in me.
On the weekends my brother and I would soak up time with our Dad. Even if it was helping him with yard work or some other unpleasant chore we looked forward to just being with him after his long week away at work. He also seemed refreshed on the weekends most of the time and not as tired and stressed as he usually was during the week. After we'd been outside much of the day and Mom would call us in for dinner, Dad would challenge us to a race from the tool shed to the house. I'm not sure the distance, a few hundred feet or less, but my brother and I absolutely loved it and silently hoped each Sat evening he would suggest this particular challenge. I'm sure our faces lit up when he did. What I loved the most was that his face did. Usually he would let us win but sometimes he would run as fast as he could to the house, my brother and I mustering all the speed our little legs could, and I would look up to see my Daddy, out of breath at the front porch but smiling his big smile, brilliant teeth and all, as he watched us run to him. He didn't smile like that all the time and I loved it when he did.
On winter nights we would gather around the old wood burning stove letting it's warmth sink in to our bones and relax us from the inside out. The wood would crackle and glow and my Dad would warn us numerous times not to get too close. My brother and I almost dared the flying sparks to touch us...until one of them did. The brick mantle surrounding the fireplace was the central meeting place in our home in the winter. I wish it had recorded all the conversations we all had sitting in front of it. Like the huge oak tree in the front yard, it had watched Justin and I grow from babies to big kids, and I bet it could tell me a lot of stories I don't remember.
Those days were beautiful. I had an amazing childhood and as I've grown older I appreciate it more and more because I've met so many people who have not had a great childhood. I know I am blessed to have these memories and to have experienced love from my parents the way I did.
Things changed when I was about 11 or so. My grandfather passed away unexpectedly and with him the family that I had taken for granted also became part of the past. Still, I have two loving parents and brother who continues to be my best and most consistent friend. It was during this time that I turned to writing. I needed something to make sense of the world around me. I needed a way to release all the emotion that was choking out my logical thinking. Seeing my thoughts on paper helped me make sense of them. It was writing that helped me get to know myself. I could read my poetry, short stories and journal and figure myself out in a way.
I suppose that's what I'm doing now. I'll go back and read this later and feel or see something I missed when I was writing. I hope you will too. I think our stories teach us about each other and about ourselves. Each person who has ever shared their story with me has taught me something about myself or something about this world I never knew.
I will continue my story next week.
My childhood home no longer stands, but
Justin is restoring the property and has managed
to keep the mantel. I took this photo at sunset one
evening.
I grew up on a few acres in a small town in Northwest Georgia. Our home was small by some standards, but it never felt small to me. My Dad's name is Howard and he is the hardest worker I have ever known. He still is. There were very few moments in my young life that I witnessed my father sitting still. He was usually away at work, slaving away at the paper mill, perfecting a work ethic that would eventually sustain a 40 year career at that place. When he was home he was still working, either in the yard or on a car. My mother, Debbie, stayed home and cooked, cleaned and blessed my brother and I with a maternal love that was more than we could have ever asked for. She was soft, tender and even when we drove her to her breaking point we never questioned her love for us. By "us", I mean my brother Justin and I. Justin was born about two years after I was and immediately I loved him. He was a living baby doll in my eyes. That is, until he started talking. Our younger years were a constant push and pull for attention with long breaks in between of a familial companionship that I think happens especially with siblings who are close in age.
Early in the morning, before the sun would rise, I would hear the stirrings of my father as he prepared to go to work. The house would be quiet and dark, my brother and mother still sleeping, and I would make my way to the soft light coming from the bathroom. I would sit on the counter in silence, watching my Dad in the mirror as he shaved his face. The coffee would be brewing and the bitter fragrance of the coffee would mix with his aftershave and cologne. It was a mesmerizing and delectable scent. In those moments I felt safe, secure and so very close to him. It was just the two of us in the world in that half hour or so in the early morning and I looked forward to it each day. We didn't talk much, we didn't have to. I appreciated being with him and having him to myself and I think he knew I was just a little girl fascinated by her father, wanting to be just like him some day. Quiet, strong, respected and hard working. I admired him very much and still do. When it was time for him to go he would turn on the TV with the volume down low and I would watch Tarzan(the black and white version) until my mother woke up to get us ready for school.
My mother is beautiful. She has bright blue eyes, soft, pale skin and tiny hands. She gave me comfort like nothing else. If I was hurting or sad, she would take me in her arms and I would lose my worries in her powdery scent and softness. There has always been mystery behind her blue eyes and even today I know there are parts of her I don't know. Most importantly, I have known her love. On summer days she would lay in the lush grass as my father did yard work and we would imagine whole worlds beneath the green blades and leaves. We would part the grass and see ants, crickets and other bugs scurrying around and we would imagine where they were going and what their little bug-lives were like. Each evening she would begin preparing dinner. I remember watching her small hands peel endless mounds of potatoes, mixing cornmeal and buttermilk with them to make cornbread and then washing dishes in scalding water after the meal was complete. I always marveled at how unfazed she was at the scalding water as she scrubbed pots and pans, her tiny hands never lost their softness despite all the abuse.
Whether I liked it or not, Justin was my only consistent friend. On summer days we would head outside just after sunrise and would explore, create and adventure until the sun went down, stopping only if Mom called us in for lunch. We had several peach, cherry, plum and walnut trees on the property and my brother and I would use the unripened fruit to make "stews" to accompany our mud pies. When the fruit was ripe we would pluck quick snacks off the trees in between adventures. Three acres doesn't seem like much to some, but to us it was a world of endless possibilities. While Dad was at work we would rummage through his tool shed taking hammers to the big granite rocks we would find hoping that once we crushed them there would be some rare gemstone inside. Unfortunately we never found any gemstones. What we did find were our imaginations. Some days we would pretend to be characters in made up stories. Some days we laid in the tall grass so that all we could see were the golden blades blowing in the wind and the clouds floating by against the blue sky talking about nothing in particular. And when we heard Dad's old pick up truck turn into the gravel driveway we ran as fast as we could back to the house.
My Dad would watch TV after dinner for a little while before going to bed. I remember sitting in the living room floor watching Tour of Duty and feeling grown up even though I really didn't understand most of what was going on. Sometimes I would get bored trying to understand and I would put my headphones on and listen to George Michael, Tiffany or the Beatles on my little portable cassette player and lay underneath my Dad's feet as he laid back in the reclining chair. I'm not sure how he never managed to close the chair on my face. I guess he always knew I was under there.
My Mom would tuck my brother and I into bed. If we asked she would gently caress our arms and hair until we fell asleep, her small fingers relaxing me into dreams. Sometimes she would sing Jesus Loves Me softly to us as we drifted off.
Birthdays were one of my mother's specialties. She always, even to this day, makes me feel special on my birthday. When I was little she would often make a strawberry cake from scratch. My favorite. We would spend the weekend somewhere away from home, sometimes it was the lake, sometimes it was the beach. My brother's birthday is just a few weeks after mine so some years she would celebrate them together and I didn't mind really. We always received our own special gifts, individual cake and lots of attention. As I got to be an older teen I lost some appreciation for this. It wasn't until I was a bit older that I realized life really should be celebrated. Surviving in this world another year is a big deal and it just feels good for the ones you love to let you know you're special to them. It's this that makes my own boys' birthdays such a big deal to me. It's a wonderful opportunity to take a break from the daily grind and let them know they are loved and life is worth celebrating. I'm glad my mother instilled this in me.
On the weekends my brother and I would soak up time with our Dad. Even if it was helping him with yard work or some other unpleasant chore we looked forward to just being with him after his long week away at work. He also seemed refreshed on the weekends most of the time and not as tired and stressed as he usually was during the week. After we'd been outside much of the day and Mom would call us in for dinner, Dad would challenge us to a race from the tool shed to the house. I'm not sure the distance, a few hundred feet or less, but my brother and I absolutely loved it and silently hoped each Sat evening he would suggest this particular challenge. I'm sure our faces lit up when he did. What I loved the most was that his face did. Usually he would let us win but sometimes he would run as fast as he could to the house, my brother and I mustering all the speed our little legs could, and I would look up to see my Daddy, out of breath at the front porch but smiling his big smile, brilliant teeth and all, as he watched us run to him. He didn't smile like that all the time and I loved it when he did.
On winter nights we would gather around the old wood burning stove letting it's warmth sink in to our bones and relax us from the inside out. The wood would crackle and glow and my Dad would warn us numerous times not to get too close. My brother and I almost dared the flying sparks to touch us...until one of them did. The brick mantle surrounding the fireplace was the central meeting place in our home in the winter. I wish it had recorded all the conversations we all had sitting in front of it. Like the huge oak tree in the front yard, it had watched Justin and I grow from babies to big kids, and I bet it could tell me a lot of stories I don't remember.
Those days were beautiful. I had an amazing childhood and as I've grown older I appreciate it more and more because I've met so many people who have not had a great childhood. I know I am blessed to have these memories and to have experienced love from my parents the way I did.
Things changed when I was about 11 or so. My grandfather passed away unexpectedly and with him the family that I had taken for granted also became part of the past. Still, I have two loving parents and brother who continues to be my best and most consistent friend. It was during this time that I turned to writing. I needed something to make sense of the world around me. I needed a way to release all the emotion that was choking out my logical thinking. Seeing my thoughts on paper helped me make sense of them. It was writing that helped me get to know myself. I could read my poetry, short stories and journal and figure myself out in a way.
I suppose that's what I'm doing now. I'll go back and read this later and feel or see something I missed when I was writing. I hope you will too. I think our stories teach us about each other and about ourselves. Each person who has ever shared their story with me has taught me something about myself or something about this world I never knew.
I will continue my story next week.
My childhood home no longer stands, but
Justin is restoring the property and has managed
to keep the mantel. I took this photo at sunset one
evening.
Sunday, June 24, 2018
Marriage & Mountains
I stood on the mountain, a chilly breeze blowing hair in my face. I'm quite sure my toes were numb but the excitement I felt inside was enough to warm me from my fingertips to the bottom of my feet. The sun had just began it's slow descent toward the tree tops and from where we stood the glow from the sky seemed to embrace us. Months later I would see the photos the photographers took that day and would notice the rays of light breaking through the clouds, like fingers reaching from the sky to touch us.
Several months before I climbed that mountain my Dad had asked me why I thought this time would be different. What made me think I was ready? He has always been good at encouraging me to think through big decisions before leaping from one thing to the next.
I had not always took his advice and thought things through. Worse, there were several decisions I had made in life apart from God and those decisions had led me to divorce and becoming a single parent. Even worse than that, my sin and walk apart from God had brought my children into a broken home and they deserved better. It's easy for me to blame other people, my own ignorance and all the chaos I allowed in my life at that time but ultimately, the demise of my first marriage is because I never really invited God into it. I wasn't interested in actually walking with Him in life and it actually never occurred to me to seek Him during the time I was struggling in keeping a covenant I made with Him. It's almost silly, really. I made a promise to God and another person and never thought to ask Him to be a part of it. That doesn't make sense, does it?
Brad and I began dating several years after the divorce but only a few weeks after I had surrendered my life to Jesus. I was this raw, new person and all I really knew at first was that I never wanted to leave Him again. I knew that my life would be a chase after Him from that point forward so when Brad came into my life I was both excited and scared. I have always been the kind of person who loves wholeheartedly. I didn't want new, exciting love to distract me from the journey I knew I was on with God. Several weeks into our relationship it was very clear that Bradley was a part of His plan to bring me closer to Him than I had ever been.
It's no accident that God chose marriage as a way to teach us to love like He does. And I really can't thing of something more profound and compelling than God blessing two people with each other and using their life together to demonstrate His own love for us.
Sometimes Bradley will bring me coffee while I'm working on Saturday mornings. In church he will reach for my hand and hold it while we sing worship songs together. On a few occasions he has bought home a bouquet of flowers for no reason other than I just like seeing and smelling them in our home.
Sometimes God will paint radiant pink and blue skies as I'm driving home and I know He knows it brings me joy. The moments I have spent staring at the ocean, in awe of it's power and vastness, is a reminder of His love. The sun that warms my skin and wakes me in the morning is a gift He gives and He knows I will ponder it. He knows I will relish it's warmth and be grateful.
It's those little things that you appreciate, maybe when you're on a walk or just driving home from work alone, that He gives us as if to say, "You see this? I did this for you. I painted this sky in your favorite color because I knew you'd like it."
There are times that Bradley hurts my feelings. He forgets a special event that meant a lot to me or he acts uninterested and gives short responses when I want a full-bodied conversation. There have been a few times I felt a lack of love at all. I imagine the feelings I feel during those times may be how God feels when I ignore Him and the skies he paints for me, when I focus more on things I want to do and less on spending time with Him in prayer. I bet that the One who died for me may be hurt to see me try to control life instead of trusting Him to lead me where He wants me to go. I'm sure it's hurtful when I don't listen to Him, when I don't consider Him in decisions I make or invite Him to the places I go.
And yet He gives me grace every time.
So we are called to do the same for each other. The moments I am feeling most hurt by Bradley because he's forgotten something, ignored a thing I said or just simply didn't consider me when I thought he should have, I remember God's grace that I am given in abundance. It's because of this abundance of grace and love that I have grace and love to give others, especially my husband.
I didn't have to die for Bradley. I am blessed to live life with him. Jesus died for me and yet I struggle to live life for him some days. I'm glad He knew it would be a struggle and decided to bless us with marriage to teach us grace and unconditional love.
Back to the mountain...
As we danced to the wind and the music that was only playing in our minds, I was thinking of that question my Dad had asked me. What was different? Was I ready?
I had invited God to the wedding that day and He showed up in all His glory as only He can. The clouds were lined with gold, the sky a brilliant blue, the air was crisp and the leaves fluttered in flashes of sienna and crimson on the trees. More than the invitation to the wedding, I've held tight to His hand throughout our marriage and hold fast to the promise that I will never let go. When the enemy attacks my marriage His words are my weapons. When I feel the desire to lash out when I've been hurt, I remember that God wants me to respond with grace. This is the difference. God won't bless what you don't invite Him to.
I finally knew what it meant to follow Him. To seek His will, to walk the path He made for me and not the one I created for myself. This is how I knew I was ready.
I knew that marriage would be a lot of mountain tops and valleys and that I would have to keep God the focus in both. I was ready to follow Him, I had accepted that marriage isn't about Brad and I, it's the way our loving Father teaches us to love like He has loved us all and putting that love on display to glorify Him. Unconditional love and grace. I truly can't think of a better wedding gift than that.
Several months before I climbed that mountain my Dad had asked me why I thought this time would be different. What made me think I was ready? He has always been good at encouraging me to think through big decisions before leaping from one thing to the next.
I had not always took his advice and thought things through. Worse, there were several decisions I had made in life apart from God and those decisions had led me to divorce and becoming a single parent. Even worse than that, my sin and walk apart from God had brought my children into a broken home and they deserved better. It's easy for me to blame other people, my own ignorance and all the chaos I allowed in my life at that time but ultimately, the demise of my first marriage is because I never really invited God into it. I wasn't interested in actually walking with Him in life and it actually never occurred to me to seek Him during the time I was struggling in keeping a covenant I made with Him. It's almost silly, really. I made a promise to God and another person and never thought to ask Him to be a part of it. That doesn't make sense, does it?
Brad and I began dating several years after the divorce but only a few weeks after I had surrendered my life to Jesus. I was this raw, new person and all I really knew at first was that I never wanted to leave Him again. I knew that my life would be a chase after Him from that point forward so when Brad came into my life I was both excited and scared. I have always been the kind of person who loves wholeheartedly. I didn't want new, exciting love to distract me from the journey I knew I was on with God. Several weeks into our relationship it was very clear that Bradley was a part of His plan to bring me closer to Him than I had ever been.
It's no accident that God chose marriage as a way to teach us to love like He does. And I really can't thing of something more profound and compelling than God blessing two people with each other and using their life together to demonstrate His own love for us.
Sometimes Bradley will bring me coffee while I'm working on Saturday mornings. In church he will reach for my hand and hold it while we sing worship songs together. On a few occasions he has bought home a bouquet of flowers for no reason other than I just like seeing and smelling them in our home.
Sometimes God will paint radiant pink and blue skies as I'm driving home and I know He knows it brings me joy. The moments I have spent staring at the ocean, in awe of it's power and vastness, is a reminder of His love. The sun that warms my skin and wakes me in the morning is a gift He gives and He knows I will ponder it. He knows I will relish it's warmth and be grateful.
It's those little things that you appreciate, maybe when you're on a walk or just driving home from work alone, that He gives us as if to say, "You see this? I did this for you. I painted this sky in your favorite color because I knew you'd like it."
There are times that Bradley hurts my feelings. He forgets a special event that meant a lot to me or he acts uninterested and gives short responses when I want a full-bodied conversation. There have been a few times I felt a lack of love at all. I imagine the feelings I feel during those times may be how God feels when I ignore Him and the skies he paints for me, when I focus more on things I want to do and less on spending time with Him in prayer. I bet that the One who died for me may be hurt to see me try to control life instead of trusting Him to lead me where He wants me to go. I'm sure it's hurtful when I don't listen to Him, when I don't consider Him in decisions I make or invite Him to the places I go.
And yet He gives me grace every time.
So we are called to do the same for each other. The moments I am feeling most hurt by Bradley because he's forgotten something, ignored a thing I said or just simply didn't consider me when I thought he should have, I remember God's grace that I am given in abundance. It's because of this abundance of grace and love that I have grace and love to give others, especially my husband.
I didn't have to die for Bradley. I am blessed to live life with him. Jesus died for me and yet I struggle to live life for him some days. I'm glad He knew it would be a struggle and decided to bless us with marriage to teach us grace and unconditional love.
Back to the mountain...
As we danced to the wind and the music that was only playing in our minds, I was thinking of that question my Dad had asked me. What was different? Was I ready?
I had invited God to the wedding that day and He showed up in all His glory as only He can. The clouds were lined with gold, the sky a brilliant blue, the air was crisp and the leaves fluttered in flashes of sienna and crimson on the trees. More than the invitation to the wedding, I've held tight to His hand throughout our marriage and hold fast to the promise that I will never let go. When the enemy attacks my marriage His words are my weapons. When I feel the desire to lash out when I've been hurt, I remember that God wants me to respond with grace. This is the difference. God won't bless what you don't invite Him to.
I finally knew what it meant to follow Him. To seek His will, to walk the path He made for me and not the one I created for myself. This is how I knew I was ready.
I knew that marriage would be a lot of mountain tops and valleys and that I would have to keep God the focus in both. I was ready to follow Him, I had accepted that marriage isn't about Brad and I, it's the way our loving Father teaches us to love like He has loved us all and putting that love on display to glorify Him. Unconditional love and grace. I truly can't think of a better wedding gift than that.
Saturday, June 2, 2018
Circles and Oceans
Four years ago I sat in a chair at West Ridge Church for the first time with each of my boys by my side at the funeral of an amazing young man that had tragically passed away. His life had impacted many in just a short amount of time and due to the obedience of his spirit my life was one of those impacted. He exuded the love of Jesus and the Holy Spirit flowed from him. He was the first person in many years that I had came in contact with that reminded me what the Holy Spirit felt like and stirred in me a longing for Jesus that I had not felt in a very long time.
It was there in that chair I surrendered years of numbness, a disbelief in love and a hardened heart scarred by pain and disappointment. As the walls around my heart crashed I could feel God's presence all around me. He embraced me in a way only he can and welcomed me back home to him. I didn't know what plans he had for me at the time but I finally gave in to the fact that I could no longer do life without him. I had been crushed by the weight of trying to carry all my burdens on my own and he began teaching me to give those burdens to him instead. Slowly my superficial band-aids were ripped off and he healed my wounded heart. Instead of cold stone he replaced it with a heart on fire for him.
There are no words to describe how I feel about his relentless pursuit of me. He was with me in each of the sinful places I visited before that day I finally surrendered to him. He was with me as I tried to drown my wounds in alcohol and selfish endeavors to glorify myself. He chased me though I spent years ignoring him, convincing myself my issues were too insignificant for him. He chased me though I acted like I never knew him. He chased me down until I could no longer ignore the songs he played for me, the sunsets he painted and the people he used to remind me that his spirit still lived inside me and that it was me that had pushed him away.
Over the next several months it was I that desperately began chasing him. The more I chased the more he amazed me. He brought love into my life. I met the man that would eventually became my husband. And then I witnessed miracles in my husband's life and was blessed to watch God chase him into the transformation of a lifetime.
My two sons were brought to salvation. There is no other gift a mother could want more for her children.
He erased debt. He blessed me with friends and mended relationships with family members.
And then there's this joy. This state of mind and heart that before I didn't know existed. There is no bad circumstance, situation or negativity that can take it away. Joy isn't dependent upon a person or circumstance. It's knowing that despite what's going on around me, good or bad, I have a loving Father that I can cry out to in pain, worship or praise. He is with me through it all, holding my hand and my best interests in his.
I could go on and on about the blessings he has poured out since that day I finally surrendered and then began to chase him. But I won't, instead I'll finish by telling you a short story about circles and oceans.
This past week I spent at a youth camp for our church. Completely out of my comfort zone as I am quite introverted, I did my best to show Jesus to a group of high school girls. One of the last nights we all went outside to an amphitheater by the ocean to sing worship songs together. Surrounded by about 1000 middle and high school kids, my fellow group leaders and others I lifted my hands to heaven and the love being poured out of these kids' hearts for God was tangible.
And then the song began. The song that played in my car, on my Pandora station, in grocery stores randomly for several weeks that lead up to the day of my surrender. I didn't know the song, I didn't listen to Christian music at the time I first heard it. But it seemed to follow me around and it was the song that played as I sat in that chair at the funeral. It had been Him calling me all along with those lyrics. He knew that music has always spoke to me the most and he used it to call me to himself.
I stood there as the kids sweet voices harmonized the words. The waves crashing a few feet away. The salty air blowing gently around us. Tears falling in appreciation of where I had been when I first heard that song and where I stood in that moment. Full circle. From dying daily to sin and shame to standing in His mighty presence full of joy and life, surrounded by love and grace.
"And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours, and You are mine"
My prayer now is that he continues to lead me where my trust is without borders and that I may go wherever he calls me. I pray my life glorifies him and that maybe one day my life might impact one person in the same way he used someone else to save mine.
I think we forget sometimes just how much we impact others. I hope you know that your life is a powerful testimony and has the power to save others. Share your story. Love out loud. Know that the God of the universe is chasing you and will play songs, paint sunsets and place people in your life to win your heart.
It was there in that chair I surrendered years of numbness, a disbelief in love and a hardened heart scarred by pain and disappointment. As the walls around my heart crashed I could feel God's presence all around me. He embraced me in a way only he can and welcomed me back home to him. I didn't know what plans he had for me at the time but I finally gave in to the fact that I could no longer do life without him. I had been crushed by the weight of trying to carry all my burdens on my own and he began teaching me to give those burdens to him instead. Slowly my superficial band-aids were ripped off and he healed my wounded heart. Instead of cold stone he replaced it with a heart on fire for him.
There are no words to describe how I feel about his relentless pursuit of me. He was with me in each of the sinful places I visited before that day I finally surrendered to him. He was with me as I tried to drown my wounds in alcohol and selfish endeavors to glorify myself. He chased me though I spent years ignoring him, convincing myself my issues were too insignificant for him. He chased me though I acted like I never knew him. He chased me down until I could no longer ignore the songs he played for me, the sunsets he painted and the people he used to remind me that his spirit still lived inside me and that it was me that had pushed him away.
Over the next several months it was I that desperately began chasing him. The more I chased the more he amazed me. He brought love into my life. I met the man that would eventually became my husband. And then I witnessed miracles in my husband's life and was blessed to watch God chase him into the transformation of a lifetime.
My two sons were brought to salvation. There is no other gift a mother could want more for her children.
He erased debt. He blessed me with friends and mended relationships with family members.
And then there's this joy. This state of mind and heart that before I didn't know existed. There is no bad circumstance, situation or negativity that can take it away. Joy isn't dependent upon a person or circumstance. It's knowing that despite what's going on around me, good or bad, I have a loving Father that I can cry out to in pain, worship or praise. He is with me through it all, holding my hand and my best interests in his.
I could go on and on about the blessings he has poured out since that day I finally surrendered and then began to chase him. But I won't, instead I'll finish by telling you a short story about circles and oceans.
This past week I spent at a youth camp for our church. Completely out of my comfort zone as I am quite introverted, I did my best to show Jesus to a group of high school girls. One of the last nights we all went outside to an amphitheater by the ocean to sing worship songs together. Surrounded by about 1000 middle and high school kids, my fellow group leaders and others I lifted my hands to heaven and the love being poured out of these kids' hearts for God was tangible.
And then the song began. The song that played in my car, on my Pandora station, in grocery stores randomly for several weeks that lead up to the day of my surrender. I didn't know the song, I didn't listen to Christian music at the time I first heard it. But it seemed to follow me around and it was the song that played as I sat in that chair at the funeral. It had been Him calling me all along with those lyrics. He knew that music has always spoke to me the most and he used it to call me to himself.
I stood there as the kids sweet voices harmonized the words. The waves crashing a few feet away. The salty air blowing gently around us. Tears falling in appreciation of where I had been when I first heard that song and where I stood in that moment. Full circle. From dying daily to sin and shame to standing in His mighty presence full of joy and life, surrounded by love and grace.
"And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours, and You are mine"
My prayer now is that he continues to lead me where my trust is without borders and that I may go wherever he calls me. I pray my life glorifies him and that maybe one day my life might impact one person in the same way he used someone else to save mine.
I think we forget sometimes just how much we impact others. I hope you know that your life is a powerful testimony and has the power to save others. Share your story. Love out loud. Know that the God of the universe is chasing you and will play songs, paint sunsets and place people in your life to win your heart.
Monday, February 20, 2017
Breakthrough: My Testimony
I've told short versions of this story a few times on Facebook and Instagram but I've always felt they didn't quite encompass the magnitude of change that occurred within me and in my life at the time. So here, I can go more in depth and I truly hope these words "pay it forward" and someone is changed from it like I was. I used to be afraid to "go tell it on the mountain", but now I am bursting at the seams and I hope to never contain myself. This is my testimony.
I had become a pro at the motions. During the week I submerged myself in motherhood and work. My two boys were top priority as always and little did they know they provided a much needed distraction from the chaos I folded neatly and tucked away in the back of my mind. I had left their father after nearly 6 years of marriage and was stunned that my life had taken the turn it did. In rare, quiet moments I would get overwhelmed with the reality that I was a divorced mother with two little guys who depended on me. I was wrought with thoughts of failure and plagued with guilt that this was the best I could do for them. I had always promised myself that I would never divorce. That no matter what I would find a way to make it work and I would endure whatever pain and loneliness it took to avoid putting my two precious boys through divorce.
But suddenly there I was. Despite many attempts at saving our marriage I realized there was something missing between us and sadly we never could find what it was. I moved my sweet boys out of the home that they knew and had failed at the one thing I had promised not to. The guilt was heavy and yet every time I looked into their big, blue eyes I felt their unconditional love. I didn't deserve it.
For a long time I tried to make it up to them. I became obsessed with being as present as possible when I was with them. I wanted to soak up every second, remember every funny thing they said, keep them close and was anxiously aware that my time with them as children would one day be over. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but on the weekends they spent with their father I found myself completely lost. When they weren't there to distract me from all the pain, guilt and fear that I held in my mind I began to look for other distractions.
In my darkest days I found myself in places I would be ashamed for my parents to find me, much less my children. When the boys were away I used alcohol to numb the painful reality that I was a 30-something divorcee. The scarlet letter "D" burned a hole in my heart each time someone would ask me what my marital status was or ask me or the boys "where is your husband/father?" Judgmental comments were overheard many times and often I felt like an inadequate woman whose status only reflected the fact that I was "used goods" with a lot of "baggage". These labels seemed to overshadow the mother I was to my children and the hard work I put in every day to support us on my own. To make myself feel better I entertained relationships that were superficial and after having my heart broken a few times I came to the conclusion that feeling nothing had to be better than feeling anything at all.
I'm not one to feel sorry for myself so I began strategically numbing myself to all emotion. I carefully built an impenetrable wall around my heart. I distanced myself from friends and family. When someone would mention God I would dismiss the thought that he had nothing better to do than to deal with my mistakes. I had made my bed in life and accepted things the way they were. I truly believed love didn't exist outside of movies and books. I was not happy for my friends and family who proclaimed love for someone, I pitied them for believing in something they would eventually find out to be a lie. During those days my world was very dark and quiet when my children weren't around. Saddest of all, I was perfectly okay with it. I had convinced myself I could do life alone with no help from God, family or friends. Without them, it was easier to deny emotion and that had become the only life I was comfortable living.
Little did I know that while I had let go of God and love, He still had a very firm grip on me.
One day my step-mother suggested a Tae Kwon Do class for the boys and their cousin. She signed them up for a month to try it out and they ended up really enjoying it. So every week I would take them to class and the change I witnessed in them was enough to pull me ever so slightly out of the darkness I had been in for so long.
I had not realized until they began to develop a relationship with their instructor just how hungry they were for a male leader in their lives. Their little boy hearts grew bigger and they stood taller with each class. Mr. Hicks provided the discipline and confidence they had yearned for that I simply could not provide on my own and I saw them blossom under his guidance for many weeks. Throughout this time I became amazed. They inspired me and slowly I felt warmth flow back into my stone-cold heart each time I saw Mr. Hicks show kindness and love to his students.
There was a familiarity in his eyes. At first I didn't recognize what it was. It had been so long since I had opened myself up to see Jesus I could hardly make out His light shining through those kind eyes as he taught my boys.
I remember sitting in that metal chair as my boys kicked and shouted, tears burning my eyes as I held them back, realizing that the same light shining from Mr. Hicks was buried deep somewhere inside me too. The thought scared me and I was afraid to chip away at the wall I had so carefully built the last few years.
I've always been a huge fan of music. It's been relevant my whole life and often it has been a song that either brought me solace during a difficult time or sometimes ignite something within that brings forth clarity and perspective. During the late days of September and early days of October 2014 it seemed the song"Oceans" by Hillsong United was always playing when I turned on the radio or even when I was in a store or some other place music would be playing in the background. After noticing this a few times I began to listen to the lyrics. I wasn't quite sure I could relate to "Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders. Let me walk upon the water, wherever You will call me. Take me deeper than my feet will ever wander...when oceans rise my soul will rest in Your embrace, for I am Yours and You are mine". It was a beautiful song and I couldn't help but feel the tug in my soul each time I would hear it though I couldn't quite explain why.
One evening as I was preparing dinner for the boys I received an email that said Mr. Hicks had been in a terrible car accident and class had been cancelled. I silently prayed he would be okay and went about the rest of my evening though in the back of my mind I wondered if things were actually going to be okay.
On Friday, October 10th 2014 I received an email that confirmed what all of us parents/students had feared. As I sat my phone down in shock after reading that email "Oceans" began to play on the Pandora station I had been listening to. I fell to my knees in my kitchen floor. It was clear to me in that moment that God was trying to tell me something. I still didn't know what and I didn't understand if it had anything to do with Mr. Hicks. All I knew is that I needed to start listening and the wall had to come down.
On Tuesday, October 14th 2014 my boys and I walked into the doors of West Ridge Church for the first time. I had been in church off and on my whole life but it had been a long time since I had felt the presence of God. As I sat down in my seat it was undeniable that He was there with me.
Mr. Hicks lay peacefully before us. His family and friends told story after story making it apparent that Jerod Hicks didn't need a eulogy. His life was his eulogy. He left this world a much better place than when he first got here. He was obedient, he was fearless and above all he allowed Christ to shine through him so others could be saved.
As the service came to an end and they began to move Mr. Hicks' casket out of the room I heard the familiar beginning of the song that had become the theme to those last several days. The hair on my arms stood up and tears flowed freely from my eyes. I surrendered to it all. The wall came crashing down and I sat in that chair in the arms of my two sons weeping in the midst of a love so intense it overcame the years of numbness and brought me out of the dark. I was home. My Father wrapped His arms around me in that chair and it became clear in that moment He had been leading me there for some time. He had never let go. He had never given up. And for the first time in years I felt worthy of love and I believed in it.
My life has not been the same since.
Breakthrough is the name of Mr. Hicks' Tae Kwon Do school and I don't know what exactly he had in mind when he came up with that, but that place was the catalyst for the biggest breakthrough in my life and the life of my boys. My boys and I knew him as the instructor of that school for 6 months. In just a short time his obedience to God and love for people impacted our lives in ways I could have never imagined.
I've been attending West Ridge Church ever since that day in October 2014. Soon after that day I realized what those lyrics meant to me. My trust in Him has no borders. In the last few years I have faced situations that have required huge leaps of faith and enormous amounts of trust. Through it all I've kept my eyes on Him and He has constantly reminded me who I belong to. He presented love to me not long after that breakthrough and my feet wandered territory I had once decided to never tread again. God brought Bradley, a man that would later become my husband, into my life and taught me how to love like Jesus through some of the toughest tests of love and faith I have ever experienced. I'm no longer content with being alone and I have an understanding of marriage that I've never had before. My husband and I are members together at West Ridge and have fire in our hearts for Christ. Each day I find myself bursting with love and joy. Instead of walking in darkness, I strive to shine the same light that saved me.
If you had told me a few years ago life would look like this I wouldn't have believed you. I used to think those passionate hand-raisers in church were strange, now I know where their passion comes from. His love, the relentless pursuit of our hearts and the infallible grace He gives amazes me every day. This must be how David felt when he wrote Psalm 103..."Praise the Lord, my soul...who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion".
I hope this post somehow conveys His love-that glorious and unfailing love He has for us all and how critical it is for us to fill ourselves up with it so we can give it away.
I had become a pro at the motions. During the week I submerged myself in motherhood and work. My two boys were top priority as always and little did they know they provided a much needed distraction from the chaos I folded neatly and tucked away in the back of my mind. I had left their father after nearly 6 years of marriage and was stunned that my life had taken the turn it did. In rare, quiet moments I would get overwhelmed with the reality that I was a divorced mother with two little guys who depended on me. I was wrought with thoughts of failure and plagued with guilt that this was the best I could do for them. I had always promised myself that I would never divorce. That no matter what I would find a way to make it work and I would endure whatever pain and loneliness it took to avoid putting my two precious boys through divorce.
But suddenly there I was. Despite many attempts at saving our marriage I realized there was something missing between us and sadly we never could find what it was. I moved my sweet boys out of the home that they knew and had failed at the one thing I had promised not to. The guilt was heavy and yet every time I looked into their big, blue eyes I felt their unconditional love. I didn't deserve it.
For a long time I tried to make it up to them. I became obsessed with being as present as possible when I was with them. I wanted to soak up every second, remember every funny thing they said, keep them close and was anxiously aware that my time with them as children would one day be over. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but on the weekends they spent with their father I found myself completely lost. When they weren't there to distract me from all the pain, guilt and fear that I held in my mind I began to look for other distractions.
In my darkest days I found myself in places I would be ashamed for my parents to find me, much less my children. When the boys were away I used alcohol to numb the painful reality that I was a 30-something divorcee. The scarlet letter "D" burned a hole in my heart each time someone would ask me what my marital status was or ask me or the boys "where is your husband/father?" Judgmental comments were overheard many times and often I felt like an inadequate woman whose status only reflected the fact that I was "used goods" with a lot of "baggage". These labels seemed to overshadow the mother I was to my children and the hard work I put in every day to support us on my own. To make myself feel better I entertained relationships that were superficial and after having my heart broken a few times I came to the conclusion that feeling nothing had to be better than feeling anything at all.
I'm not one to feel sorry for myself so I began strategically numbing myself to all emotion. I carefully built an impenetrable wall around my heart. I distanced myself from friends and family. When someone would mention God I would dismiss the thought that he had nothing better to do than to deal with my mistakes. I had made my bed in life and accepted things the way they were. I truly believed love didn't exist outside of movies and books. I was not happy for my friends and family who proclaimed love for someone, I pitied them for believing in something they would eventually find out to be a lie. During those days my world was very dark and quiet when my children weren't around. Saddest of all, I was perfectly okay with it. I had convinced myself I could do life alone with no help from God, family or friends. Without them, it was easier to deny emotion and that had become the only life I was comfortable living.
Little did I know that while I had let go of God and love, He still had a very firm grip on me.
One day my step-mother suggested a Tae Kwon Do class for the boys and their cousin. She signed them up for a month to try it out and they ended up really enjoying it. So every week I would take them to class and the change I witnessed in them was enough to pull me ever so slightly out of the darkness I had been in for so long.
I had not realized until they began to develop a relationship with their instructor just how hungry they were for a male leader in their lives. Their little boy hearts grew bigger and they stood taller with each class. Mr. Hicks provided the discipline and confidence they had yearned for that I simply could not provide on my own and I saw them blossom under his guidance for many weeks. Throughout this time I became amazed. They inspired me and slowly I felt warmth flow back into my stone-cold heart each time I saw Mr. Hicks show kindness and love to his students.
There was a familiarity in his eyes. At first I didn't recognize what it was. It had been so long since I had opened myself up to see Jesus I could hardly make out His light shining through those kind eyes as he taught my boys.
I remember sitting in that metal chair as my boys kicked and shouted, tears burning my eyes as I held them back, realizing that the same light shining from Mr. Hicks was buried deep somewhere inside me too. The thought scared me and I was afraid to chip away at the wall I had so carefully built the last few years.
I've always been a huge fan of music. It's been relevant my whole life and often it has been a song that either brought me solace during a difficult time or sometimes ignite something within that brings forth clarity and perspective. During the late days of September and early days of October 2014 it seemed the song"Oceans" by Hillsong United was always playing when I turned on the radio or even when I was in a store or some other place music would be playing in the background. After noticing this a few times I began to listen to the lyrics. I wasn't quite sure I could relate to "Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders. Let me walk upon the water, wherever You will call me. Take me deeper than my feet will ever wander...when oceans rise my soul will rest in Your embrace, for I am Yours and You are mine". It was a beautiful song and I couldn't help but feel the tug in my soul each time I would hear it though I couldn't quite explain why.
One evening as I was preparing dinner for the boys I received an email that said Mr. Hicks had been in a terrible car accident and class had been cancelled. I silently prayed he would be okay and went about the rest of my evening though in the back of my mind I wondered if things were actually going to be okay.
On Friday, October 10th 2014 I received an email that confirmed what all of us parents/students had feared. As I sat my phone down in shock after reading that email "Oceans" began to play on the Pandora station I had been listening to. I fell to my knees in my kitchen floor. It was clear to me in that moment that God was trying to tell me something. I still didn't know what and I didn't understand if it had anything to do with Mr. Hicks. All I knew is that I needed to start listening and the wall had to come down.
On Tuesday, October 14th 2014 my boys and I walked into the doors of West Ridge Church for the first time. I had been in church off and on my whole life but it had been a long time since I had felt the presence of God. As I sat down in my seat it was undeniable that He was there with me.
Mr. Hicks lay peacefully before us. His family and friends told story after story making it apparent that Jerod Hicks didn't need a eulogy. His life was his eulogy. He left this world a much better place than when he first got here. He was obedient, he was fearless and above all he allowed Christ to shine through him so others could be saved.
As the service came to an end and they began to move Mr. Hicks' casket out of the room I heard the familiar beginning of the song that had become the theme to those last several days. The hair on my arms stood up and tears flowed freely from my eyes. I surrendered to it all. The wall came crashing down and I sat in that chair in the arms of my two sons weeping in the midst of a love so intense it overcame the years of numbness and brought me out of the dark. I was home. My Father wrapped His arms around me in that chair and it became clear in that moment He had been leading me there for some time. He had never let go. He had never given up. And for the first time in years I felt worthy of love and I believed in it.
My life has not been the same since.
Breakthrough is the name of Mr. Hicks' Tae Kwon Do school and I don't know what exactly he had in mind when he came up with that, but that place was the catalyst for the biggest breakthrough in my life and the life of my boys. My boys and I knew him as the instructor of that school for 6 months. In just a short time his obedience to God and love for people impacted our lives in ways I could have never imagined.
I've been attending West Ridge Church ever since that day in October 2014. Soon after that day I realized what those lyrics meant to me. My trust in Him has no borders. In the last few years I have faced situations that have required huge leaps of faith and enormous amounts of trust. Through it all I've kept my eyes on Him and He has constantly reminded me who I belong to. He presented love to me not long after that breakthrough and my feet wandered territory I had once decided to never tread again. God brought Bradley, a man that would later become my husband, into my life and taught me how to love like Jesus through some of the toughest tests of love and faith I have ever experienced. I'm no longer content with being alone and I have an understanding of marriage that I've never had before. My husband and I are members together at West Ridge and have fire in our hearts for Christ. Each day I find myself bursting with love and joy. Instead of walking in darkness, I strive to shine the same light that saved me.
If you had told me a few years ago life would look like this I wouldn't have believed you. I used to think those passionate hand-raisers in church were strange, now I know where their passion comes from. His love, the relentless pursuit of our hearts and the infallible grace He gives amazes me every day. This must be how David felt when he wrote Psalm 103..."Praise the Lord, my soul...who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion".
I hope this post somehow conveys His love-that glorious and unfailing love He has for us all and how critical it is for us to fill ourselves up with it so we can give it away.
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