Good Medicine

Most of us have heard that laughter is good medicine. Well, it’s true. Last night I heard my daughter’s voice faintly through the wall that separates our bedrooms. She was calling for me. When I went into her room, she said, “Mommy, I can’t breathe.” Because of some other very recent experiences, I knew immediately that she was having an anxiety attack. From what I can glean from her experiences, an anxiety attack is a horrible thing to experience – difficulty breathing, chest pains, nausea, sweats and chills at the same time, etc. Watching my daughter try to catch her breath while looking at me with frantic eyes was gut wrenching to say the least. 


I got her started on some deep breathing exercises and calmed her by rubbing her forehead and speaking words of comfort that I have had to say all too often lately, “It will be alright. It will pass soon. I will stay with you.”  We tried to get on the internet to see if we could Google ways to stop an anxiety attack, but our internet connection would not work. She said, “What a time for the internet not to work.” I agreed. However, she remembered some videos she had made with her two best friends on Photo Booth and wanted to watch those instead. 

Photo Booth Shot

If you have the Photo Booth program, you have probably figured out that you can change the settings to do weird things to the images. We watched clip after clip of her and her friends being silly and using the settings to make some very strange and funny faces. We laughed and laughed. Okay, I did most of the laughing and she laughed at me laughing so hard. I had tears coming down my face. Within a few minutes, I heard some very beautiful words, “Mommy, I can breathe again.” We were searching for a remedy and we found one. We were looking for answers from an external source, when the answer was right there within us – LAUGHTER!


I would like to say that I went back to bed with complete peace of mind, especially after praying fervently for God to comfort her in my absence, but I didn’t. I worried that she might have another attack and I wouldn’t hear her calling me. I worried that it was really a heart attack and she would die because I didn’t take her to the doctor. Are there any other parents out there that have these thoughts when your child is very sick?  I had to practice my own deep breathing and relaxation exercises - praying and trusting in God’s good care.  


Well, I made it until about 5 a.m. before I did "the test.” I call it that for lack of a better title. I went into her room as quiet as I could and stood over her bed to see if she was breathing. There. I admit it. When either of my children are sick, I often check their breathing. In this particular instance, I couldn’t see my precious girl very well in the dark and I didn’t want to touch her chest because I didn’t want to startle her and bring on a heart attack for sure. As I hovered, waiting, staring intently at her little body, she sighed and rolled over onto her side. I sighed too. 


Some may say that I did not trust that my prayers would be answered and maybe this is so. Regardless, I would like to think that God was not interpreting my conduct as an act of distrust, but rather that He felt my mother-love for my child and responded with His own great love and compassion. I would even like to think that He smiled to see my relief.


Laughter, prayers, and a mother’s love – like a spoonful of sugar – sweetens an otherwise unpleasant situation. Don’t you agree?

"A happy heart is good medicine and a cheerful mind works healing, but a broken spirit dries up the bones." Proverbs 17:22 (Amplified Bible)

A Different Kind of Bully

There is a big bully attacking the body and soul of my very, very precious 12 year old. It requires sacrifice after sacrifice from her. “Give me this and this and this,” it greedily demands. She grows weary of the price it exacts from her. She is very long-suffering, but at times, she cries out, “It isn’t fair! Why me? I don’t like it!”

In these moments, my heart grows so heavy it feels like a stone is sitting on my chest. It is hard to bear. I desperately want it removed. Pressure builds behind my eyes as they are assaulted with an onslaught of unshed tears. I hold them back as I look into the pained eyes of my little girl. The corners of my mouth lift into a weak smile and reassuring words flow out. “It will be okay. I love you and others love you and we will be with you through this thing.”  The words are true and easy to speak, but the reason they are being spoken is very distressing. 

You might be thinking at this point that something needs to be done about this terrible harasser.  I agree, but there isn’t a simple solution because her foe is not a person, it is a medical condition.  This particular type of condition is very elusive. The hows and whys of its appearance and subsequent behavior remain a mystery. The kicker is that in most cases, as in hers, the culprit doesn’t appear by itself, but feels the need to bring a couple of other like-minded friends along with it - which is typical of a bully. As we all know, there is strength in numbers, which usually works to one’s advantage, but not in this case.  

Through medication, two out of three of our daughter's attackers have been subdued – not eliminated. The one that remains is a real stinker and is resisting the prescribed treatment. We as a family have had to make some very big temporary adjustments to our day-to-day routines, knowing that there is a possibility that some of these adjustments may become more permanent. As a result, other things have had to shift as well, certain mindsets, expectations, short-term vs. long-term views, to name a few. 

As I rail against this enemy, I have found that my greatest weapon is in the wonderful promises of God, which I happily share with my child. Romans 5:1-5:

 1 Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2 through whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 3 And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; 4 and perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.

We will get through this trying time. There may be a few more (or a lot more) tears and hurdles that need to be jumped, but in the meantime, we will rejoice in knowing that God is using this circumstance to create and/or refine some very wonderful things in the hearts of our family. If we as parents remain steadfast in God’s love, we will have the awesome privilege of teaching our child at a very young and impressionable age about His great faithfulness. We cling to the indication that things like compassion and empathy for others are being sown into her life now. We expect that sometime in the near future, she will be able to share about her experience, and through her experiential knowledge, bring hope into someone else’s difficult circumstance. 

I love how cathartic writing my feelings down can be. The stone has been lifted from my chest. I sincerely thank you, Lord, for your presence with me tonight and your listening ear.

Seeing in a Mirror Dimly

Many of my friends have recently asked me about how things are going with the writing of my life story. It brought me pleasure to know that people are interested in my story. I too have contemplated this same question, particularly since I have not approached it with any measure of purpose, i.e. pen to paper. After a few days of self-exploration, I discovered that I had been writing my story – just not in a direct way. This is the insight I believe I received from God. Because of the intimate and sometimes painful nature of many, if not most, of the parts of my story that I want to share, I have devised a way to glance at the memories, looking at them indirectly or through a mirror dimly first – gently stirring, slowly processing – through the forms of poetry, song lyrics, and memoir snippets. I am writing in my comfort zone, releasing steam from my “writing teapot,” all the while looking forward to the day I can pour out everything in its full measure.

Here are some of my writing samples. I invite you to see if you can spy the hints or arrows that point to other, greater, things to be told?

This poem, “Liberation” was written out of the memory of one of the darkest nights of my soul. It tells of one particular encounter I had with my childhood abuser – the night I decided no more. It is seeing evil through the eyes of an 11-year old.

Liberation

Evil comes to me, his face cloaked in the inky black darkness of night.

I feel his fiery breath against my cheek. I hear his crude whisperings in my ear.

I smell the sour odor of his wickedness hanging in the space between us.

He makes his demand – “Follow me” - then retreats to his hiding place.

His voice comes to me again, frightfully insistent, drawing me to him.

My pulse quickens as the icy feeling of dread courses through my veins.

For a brief moment, I am paralyzed by the notion that my fate is in his hands.

Terrified, I follow the path of his unearthly stench into a realm of perversion.

He greets me with a triumphant smile. His eyes glow with anticipation.

The breaking of my spirit and the shredding of my soul is just a game to him.

My suffering satisfies his appetite. My cries for mercy fall on deaf ears.

To resist is to invite his fury. To submit is to die a thousand deaths.

My desire for freedom valiantly battles my fear of death.

The stronghold of despair tries to silence the voice of hope.

Even so, visions of liberation flood my mind with shocking clarity.

Courage works its way into my heart. My spirit rises up within me.

Look! I dare to flee into the light holding the hand of promise.

Here is a stanza and chorus from one of the songs I wrote. It tells of an emptiness of a past life and the search for a place of belonging.

Looking at the backside of my yesterday

Trying to find my way back home

Nothing left here but forgotten thoughts

Things once learned and things once taught

(Chorus)

It’s hard to find your way back home

When you don’t know where you’re from

It’s hard to find your way back home

When no one knows where you belong

This memoir snippet tells of a literal childhood place, but I have lightened the tone a bit, that is before I drop the hint that things are not always as they seem. Many of my memoir snippets create a picture of childhood innocence that is then defiled by some unspeakable evil.

A fence surrounded my house. Not a very good one mind you. It was made from wire and wooden posts. My imagination would have it be a chain-linked fence with metal posts and a nice gate, but in my heart I know that isn’t so and, actually, I am glad. There's no character in a well-put together fence. A fence of good character needs evidence of having been climbed over dozens of times, leaning slightly here and there, toe holds a plenty, and spots sagging under the weight of blackberry vines and wild, running rose bushes.

Another thing - what is a gate that doesn’t announce one’s coming and going with a faithful creak? Rude, that’s what. No, my gate was nice and polite, greeting those that came in and speaking farewells to those that left. In addition to its role as greeter, it also served as a sentry. It alerted me to the people who were about to enter my world, giving me time to think about how I was going to respond – a warm welcome or a quick exit out the back door. Sometimes, according to who was walking through that gate, it was very important that I not be caught unaware.

I hope I have given all my friends/supporters a glimpse into my writing life. I leave you with this: I am discovering that as I approach this style of writing, one that causes me to reflect about things in my past, I often feel like an outsider looking into someone else’s life, trying to make judgments about things I really no longer feel a part of or never really understood in the first. It is a journey – this is for sure.

Is God a Meanie?

Have you ever been mad at God? I have. Over the years, He and I have had a few tussles. They usually involved me wanting Him to rescue a loved one or me out of some kind of pain and suffering and when He didn’t, I would get angry and let Him know about it. Over the last several years, I have let my defenses down; believing that my suffering cup had been filled to capacity. I had survived my own personal childhood trauma and my older daughter and I survived the trauma of divorce and custody battles and the whole family suffered as we watched my younger daughter fight for her life from a condition called “failure to thrive.” These were all incredibly painful ordeals - surely our family would be exempt from any more major trials. I was wrong. My younger daughter had yet one more trial to endure. She was diagnosed with a chronic medical condition that was not life threatening, but it could, and currently was, interfere with quality of life with regard to daily functioning.

My first reaction was to get mad at God. Sort of like, “Are you kidding? Haven’t we been through enough?” I soon realized that getting mad at God was not a very good use of my time. My emotions were getting so high that my self-protecting mechanism kicked in subduing my emotions and allowing my functioning-self to surface. My functioning-self got a lot done. Doctor appointments were made, counsel was sought, school issues were addressed, etc. This was good. It helped me not feel helpless and it was productive. Even though I felt better, I continued to pray to God because in my heart, I knew that He was the only one that could deal with the inner turmoil my daughter was going through from this very public and uncontrollable, outwardly manifesting, disorder. The anger faded and, truthfully, I went a little numb so that I could do the things I needed to do for my daughter.

Finally, after 3 long weeks of an intense situation, things began to rapidly change for the better. God did specific things for my daughter that were so unusual that it was clear to me and others that He was aware and cared about our daughter’s troubles. Here is the odd thing and the confession I want to make. The first night that it became clear that the trial was easing up, I cried. You are probably saying, “What kind of confession is this? Why is this odd? Of course you cried.” The burden our family had been carrying for those several weeks was so heavy that when the lifting came, the whole situation seemed anti-climatic to me. As quick as the trial came, it also left. (Sara is still dealing with a chronic medical issue, but the severity and life-limiting aspect of it is under control at this time.)

As I was laying in bed that first night that I realized things were turning around, out of nowhere, I began to cry. The emotions I had kept at a level that allowed me to function now came to the surface with full force with a little surprise hidden in them. I confessed to my husband that I was having a very awful thought. I was thinking that God was mean. Yes, mean. Literally, I thought it was mean of God to put us through such an intense ordeal just to lift it like it was nothing. I was thinking, “Was that really necessary God?” You might say, “What? You should be glad that it is over.” I was glad, but these were my honest feelings. I had made a promise to myself not to suppress my feelings (something I had been doing for years) and to give them a “voice” when the time was right. It was right.

My husband was so kind when I asked him what he thought about what I said. He said, “I think God can handle that.” Even so, I felt like I needed to ask for forgiveness for having such a ridiculous thought. How I could think God - my heavenly, perfect, Father, whom I loved - could be mean was beyond me; especially when I knew in my heart that it was also impossible.

As I began to pray, if was as if God put up His hand to stop me. I felt His words wash over me telling me that forgiveness was not needed because there was nothing to forgive. “How could that be?” I asked myself. He went on to impress upon me that it wasn’t needed because there was a good reason I felt the way I did. He went on to reveal the source of this line of thinking. He reminded me that, as a child, I had a father who would often threaten my life – literally saying, “I will kill you if you do …. or don't do....” or even worse, he would threaten to kill my mother For me to think that a father, even a heavenly one, could be mean and threatening to me and my loved ones was very understandable in God’s eyes and, therefore, did not require forgiveness. However, it did require healing. A few healing words of Truth from my Father and this incident was put behind us - as far as the east is from the west, but there was one more thing that He wanted to address.

While I was helping my daughter though her trial and enduring the pain of it as only a parent can, my ability to hear God’s voice was nearly impossible. There was a voice that was coming in loud and clear and it was from the enemy. He kept whispering in my ear, “I told you He could not be trusted. I told you He would pull the rug out from under you when you least expected it.” These were familiar lies I had already overcome and I recognized them as such, but the pain remained.

One night during all this turmoil, I was dreaming and a messenger came to me in the dream. His voice was competing with other voices, but I did hear him say the words, “Second Corinthians” several times. When I awoke, I intended to look up the book and see if there was something God wanted to show me. For some reason, a distraction of some sort, I did not follow through. It was a few days after this dream, on a Saturday night, that I made my confession to my husband and to God. The next day in church, as I was listening to the worship music, it occurred to me to look up Second Corinthians. This is what I found:

18 But as surely as God is faithful, our message to you is not “Yes” and “No.” 19 For the Son of God, Jesus Christ, who was preached among you by us—by me and Silas and Timothy—was not “Yes” and “No,” but in him it has always been “Yes.” 20 For no matter how many promises God has made, they are “Yes” in Christ.

This passage may or may not make sense to you, but to me understanding flooded my mind. The message was loud and clear. When the enemy comes and tells me that God is untrustworthy and unfaithful and will not do what he said he would do, it is a lie. The truth is that God does not go back and forth speaking promises and then breaking them. His yes is yes. His promises are sure. I began to ask myself, “What are the promises God has made me?” The first two that came to my mind had nothing to do with specific circumstances, such as promising me earthly riches or perfect health or that a loved one or I would not endure suffering. No, the first two promises I remember God making me are these: “I will never leave you nor forsake you” and “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Overall, God’s promise to me is Himself. The promise is not just a heavenly promise - it is a promise for the here and now as well.

A “meanie” would never make the sacrifices that were necessary so that this promise could be fulfilled. Thank you God for your understanding and your kindness. Thank you that I was not alone in this trial even when I could not hear your voice or feel your presence. My assurance is not found in my senses. My assurance is found in who you are and my promised access to you.

Choose

I have been participating in a women's bible study this summer ("The Rest of Your Life: Discovering God's Rest in a Driven, Demanding, Distressing World," by Mary Andrews-Dalbey, Ph.D.) and it has really stirred up some things in my heart and soul. Mainly, God has been showing me areas in my life where I am still choosing to eat from the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. This tree tempts me into thinking that I can do things that only God can do - to be god-like in my abilities. I didn't even know that I was doing this! My true desire is to eat only from the fruit of the Tree of Life - the one where I can depend on God for all things. I plan to continue to ask God to reveal to me any area where I am making this mistake. I thank God, in His great mercy, for continually putting before me opportunities to have my mind renewed - for shining His light of revelation into these dark corners of my life.

I have listed a few of the differences between the trees and could go on and on, but I think these few words will be enough to illustrate my point.

Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil vs. Tree of Life

Duality Oneness Judgment Grace God-like burden Sabbath Rest Insecurity Belonging Worry Peace Fear Joy Inadequacy Completeness Blame Acceptance Pride Humility Deception Truth Bondage Freedom Death Life Curse Blessing... CHOOSE.

…I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Therefore choose life, that you and your offspring may live, loving the LORD your God, obeying his voice and holding fast to him, for he is your life and length of days…

(Deut. 30:19-20)

Dissatisfied with the Ordinary

A few weeks ago, I told Jesus during one of my journaling times that I did not believe that He was with me. On what did I base this accusation? My feelings. I was accusing Jesus of not being with me because I was not feeling Him with me.

I wondered how someone as huge and wonderful as the Creator could exist within me and I not feel Him?

Maybe I thought I could manipulate Him into responding and a boatload of feelings would just pour over me. Nope. Jesus is not manipulated by our feelings, moved yes, but not manipulated.

Because I was not feeling God’s active, tangible presence in my life, something that I had grown very accustomed to, I began to feel ordinary and alone. I was even fearful that I was going to go backward in my faith instead of forward. This would be a real no-no for me because I love growth and forward movement.

I began to despise the ordinariness I was feeling and a deep sense of loneliness came over me.

By the grace of God, I realized that what was happening to me was not ordinary at all, but still qualified as a wonderful work of His hand. I liken it to my experiences of being slain in the Spirit. During such times, God would bypass my head and go straight to my heart. During such times, I did not even know or understand the work He was doing, nor did I need to in order to appreciate it and benefit from it, nor did I always FEEL it.

That God can and does work on my behalf in a realm beyond my senses is extraordinary to me.

The fact that the evidence of His presence comes out in His steadfast faithfulness to change me into the person He created me to be (my heart’s cry) is extraordinary to me.

Though I may not feel it, I can have the confidence that God is with me and He is working in me and through me for my good, His purposes and His glory. This is not a quantum leap experience mind you. This kind of work occurs over an extended period of time (a lifetime really), and is evidenced by changes and growth that are sometimes unobservable by human standards, but yet exist and are real and meaningful – the fullness of which will be unveiled in His timing.

I know this for sure.

I was created to live an extraordinary life of love, compassion, forgivingness, sacrifice, etc., and God has put a passion for it in my heart and when the flame of that passion is turned down for a season of additional training and transformation, my heart longs for it.

Ordinary does not satisfy.

It is at these times when the enemy will come in and say, “You are alone.” I know this is a lie because God’s word says, “I will never leave or forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5b). I am not forsaken or forgotten. My God is with me.

I glean wisdom from the apostle Paul’s words in Philippines 4:12-13:

"…for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me."

I am right where I should be. I am in the hands of the Potter as he continues to add details to the masterpiece He calls my life – a life that longs to live for Him and for His glory.

My prayer is that I will be content in all things and in all places, that as I wait upon the Lord,

I will sing like David sang, dance as David danced, write Psalms, meditate on God’s goodness, and give to God offerings of praise and adoration that are due Him.

Winter Has Come

I tried to blog yesterday, but without much success. I had so many thoughts going through my mind that I became overwhelmed. So, I decided that it might be easier for me to write a poem/psalm. I will do that from time to time. Some of you may recognize this "place" that I write about.

Winter has come….

As a vineyard in summer, I was once clothed in royal garments.

A majestic, vibrant and fruitful life was there for all to see.

Now, I stand before the people stripped down to nothing, bare and exposed.

Their eyes are upon me. What do they see?

Do they know that you are still with me?

Will they look beyond outward appearances?

Will they recognize that your will is being done in me?

Is it evident that it is by your hand that I am in this place?

Do they see that even so, I struggle to be still.

Do not despise it….

I surrender to this winter season Lord.

Standing

Waiting

Expecting

Being sure of what I hope for and certain of what I do not see -

The newness of spring...

An Early Christmas Present

The Lord gave me an early Christmas present this year - truth wrapped in grace.

In order to understand the magnitude of this gift, I need to share this story.

In June of 2007, I brought my mom from Florida to North Carolina to live with me. She had been battling a terminal illness and had reached a point where she could no longer live alone. I watched my mom silently, she wasn't one to share her feelings, and with much grace accept her fate. She was dying. The healing she, I and others had believed in for so many years (yes, she lived beyond what the doctors had predicted) appeared to be a very distant hope.

I had my mom in my care for 3 days, a hard but beautiful 3 days, before the Lord took her home. Afterwards, I felt traumatized, cheated and slightly betrayed by God. First, we only had 3 days! Second, it was not an easy death, which I felt she deserved given all she had been through in life. Third, God had not fulfilled the practical desires of her heart - things that she had patiently and lovingly been waiting years for Him to do. I confess that though I did feel frustration on behalf of my mom, on a much deeper level, my feelings were revealing something about me. (Stay with me. We will get to the gift soon!)

Here's the kicker - a revelation straight from God. I pitied her. Further revelation - not only did I pity my mom in death, I pitied my mom in life. She had endured so much. She deserved my pity, right? Wrong.

Time to unwrap that gift! There were so many things inside the package - mercy, kindness, forgiveness. Forgiveness, you say? Yes. Forgiveness.

God was offering me the gift of repentance.

(Mom as a teenage mother)

He basically said you pitied your mom when in reality you were the one to be pitied - your unbelief, your fears, your wrong thinking. At that point, He brought the essence of my mother's heart so close to me that I could feel it inside me. It was beautiful! I saw her for who she really was and it was not the weak, watered down version of a childish, naive dreamer that I had imagined.

She was a great adventurer! She hungered for and desired adventure and she had just enough moxie that even in the midst of unyielding circumstances, she believed in the bigness of God for it. Circumstances could not hold her heart captive. It was free to fly before the throne of God with all its petitions.

He liked that. A lot! Even if the details of how she thought the adventure would happen didn't match up with His plan, He so loved her for daring to believe in greatness, in His greatness, and for taking that risk. A great adventure does not come without great risk.

(Mom with the girls prior to her diagnosis)

I repented of all my wrong thinking toward my mom. I felt the warmth of God's acceptance and the balm of His forgiveness as He applied it to this area of my life. I will never see my mother the same again. Praise God! She is no longer an object of pity to me. She is now a person, a spirit, of inspiration!

God went on to share with me that an "adventurous heart" is part of my family's spiritual inheritance. I could either embrace it or struggle against it. It was not going away.

I embrace it and cry out to God for the strength to hold on to it as I stretch toward the bar of faith and belief that my mother set. May the bar grow ever higher and the risks ever greater for your glory and your glory alone Lord. May you bless my family line for generations to come with this adventurous heart. May stories be told throughout all heaven and earth of my family's great and mighty acts of faith. May it be so.

(How's that mom? Am I getting it? Am I on the right path? I have no doubt that in the same spirit of adventure and boldness, you went before the throne of God on my behalf and petitioned Him to to set me free - that I and all your family might benefit from the sharing of this truth - We were created for adventure! Thanks mom. Keep praying for us for the temptations and distractions are many!)

Garden Woes!

I have wanted to write about my garden for awhile now, but my heart just hasn't been in it since it was destroyed by deer a few weeks ago (see before and after pictures below). I am meditating on and allowing the Lord to work in my heart what He would like to speak to me about what happened. I am sure I will get several blogs out of this in the end!

(Before)

(After)

This is what I can share now. When I got home from a week in KY (a mission trip). I walked down to check on my chickens and my garden. My chickens were fine, but my garden looked a little strange to me. My mind knew something wasn't right, but I think it took my heart a little longer to accept the reality of what I was seeing - I call that denial. My once lush and fruitful garden was nothing but bare stems. I could only stay in denial for so long. The things in my mind and my heart collided and I was hit with waves of shock and dismay. My reaction: I hung my head low, turned on my heels, walked into the house, down the hall, into my bedroom, shut the door and cried. I was heartbroken.

Questions began to fly around in my head like "How could this happen? What did this? Why?" If I am going to be totally honest, the "why" question was directed at God and it came with frustration and hurt. This was OUR special place. I labored in that garden daily and this it was a place of communing for us. Why would He allow it to be taken from me - from us? I am one of those people who are bold enough to say things to the Lord with a little attitude like "Do you understand the importance of this garden to me Lord?" He has never smote me for it, but He does usually correct my attitude fairly quickly. This time was no exception.

My angry words still hung in the air when I heard Him speak to me, "Yes, I do understand. I had a garden that I planted with great care and it was a very special place for me - for others. Then, with just one act, it all changed." He didn't have to say anything else! I know the story of His garden (Genesis 3) and as I recalled it, I felt His great loss. He did understand. He always does. I have never been able to trip Him up on a "Do you understand?" question.

New questions rose up out of my heart. "Now what Lord? Do I give up? Do I try again?" I had put a lot of work into that garden and I wasn't so sure I was willing to give it any more of my time and effort or my heart - especially if an "enemy" was going to continue to attack it and steal its fruit from me.

Whoa! Time-out!

Praise God that this was not His attitude toward us - that He would give up on what He purposed in His garden. Praise God that He didn't say, "This is the end of my efforts with you." Things did change, but God's faithfulness to us did not.

After I digested some of these thoughts, I went back down to my garden and surveyed the damage. I prayed over my garden words that seem to come to my mind of their own accord - "Okay down trodden little plants, let's see how deep your roots are in this time of distress. Let's see if you still have any life in you. I will help." I began to weed around nothing but stems and I gave it a good drink of water all with the hope that anything is possible with God. Maybe new life would come back into these barren branches, maybe it wouldn't. Either way, I could not walk away from what I had created in love.

I am crying even now as I imagine the hand of Lord gently and patiently tending to me at different times of my life when I have needed care - when I have been beaten down, attacked or done things that have lead to my own destruction - times when I have been given that second (or third, or fourth) chance at life.

Psalm 89:1

I will sing of the lovingkindness of the LORD forever;

To all generations I will make known Your faithfulness with my mouth.

The Joy of Relating

Over the years, the enemy has tried to convince me that I was not loved as a child. I admit that while I was in the midst of my young life, I never consciously thought, "I am not loved." I had a roof over my head, food on my table and clothes on my back. Our family was

"dysfunctional" - functioning incorrectly or abnormally

but we were not without a certain degree of love. What we did lack was an intimate relationship with one another.

"Intimacy generally refers to the feeling of being in a close personal association and belonging together. It is a familiar and very close affective connection with another as a result of entering deeply or closely into relationship through knowledge and experience of the other. Genuine intimacy in human relationships requires dialogue, transparency, vulnerability and reciprocity. As a verb "intimate" means to state or make known."*

Ironically, I recently learned that my top strength (according to this strength finder test I took) is relating. In a nutshell, this strength is described as a "desire to know others and to be known by them" and that a person with this strength is willing to take incredible risk in order for that to happen. This "strength" has been with me all my life. It didn't go away just because I found myself in a family environment that wasn't condusive to it, that didn't recognize it or nurture it.

This is what God showed me this past weekend at my aunt's funeral: I did not give up on searching for people to relate to me in an intimate way when intimacy wasn't possible in my own home. Even as a child, I was determined to exercise this strength. It was part of my spiritual DNA. When I think back to some of the things that I went through as a child, it has become clear to me that the enemy was just as adamant about keeping this strength hidden and ineffective as I was about exercising it!

At the funeral, as I spoke with family members (aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.) , memory after memory surfaced of how so many of them had allowed me into their world and responded to my desire to be known by them and to know them - even if it was in a small way or for a brief time. In the sea of my childhood memories, these memories had not been a priority. How kind, and maybe slightly odd, that the Lord would show me at a funeral, through these memories, how He had been with me all along. Of course, it was this very aunt who had given me my first real opportunity to experience the joy of intimacy within a family - so maybe the setting was not so odd afterall.

God had not abandoned me.

This strength of relating was not some cruel joke on His part. It is His heart's desire too - to know us and be known by us. He would never take such a strength lightly.

He is the capital "R" relater.

He gave His life on a cross so that an intimate, knowing relationship with me - with us - might be possible once again.

In relationships.....

He knows the pain of rejection.

He knows the joy of acceptance.

He knows.

I am very thankful that this strength is irrevocable. It is part of the expression of God's image in me. It is a part of His divine nature (2 Peter 1:3-4) that has been granted to me.

Those days long ago were tough and I fought for every crumb of intimacy/relating that I could get. Now I sit at the King's table and feast on the intimacy we share and I give Him glory and thanks for the relationships I have on earth that are intimate and real. I will always openly and eagerly invite others into this wonderful, yet sometimes risky, world of relating - some will accept, some will decline - but I am secure in the knowledge that even if all others refuse my invitation, God will not.

I rest in the knowledge that it is my privilege and my right as a believer to relate to Father, Son and Holy Spirit for all of eternity - starting now.

What joy! What peace!

* (Wikipedia)

Unfettered!

I learned this past Saturday that my beloved aunt died in her sleep. I say beloved because she wasn't just an aunt to me, she was an aunt-mother-friend. When I was just shy of my 13th birthday, I was sent to her house in Jacksonville, FL, for a visit while my mom worked out a solution to a very serious family situation - one that involved me not being able to live in the same house with her if my step-father also lived there. My summer visit became permanent when my aunt received a call from my mom asking her if she would like a little girl - me. My mom had found her solution to our problems back home. Instead of leaving her husband, she basically gave me away (please know that my mom and I had a very good relationship later in our lives - part of God's miracle of healing). My aunt graciously accepted me into her home, her family and her life. Mind you, I did not know her that well. I saw her only a hand full of times in my 13 years of life, but, for some reason, I had always had a great fondness for her. Now I know why. I was to be her little girl for a season - she already had three grown sons. My aunt was a wonderful, kind, and generous women God used to bring healing into my life. In her care, I experienced family love for the first time.  That love helped me through some really tough transitions and losses. The irony in my relationship with her is that she was the sister of my step-father - the one I could not live with any longer and the one who caused me great pain and sorrow.

This is my Aunt Myrtle many years ago  with her entire family. She is the 4th from the (L). My step-father is the 1st from the (R)

As I was grieving her death today, God began to show me some things. You might think what I am about to say is a little bit bizarre or you could find it enlightening. The Lord revealed to me that my aunt was the last person to die that was directly related to the history of my childhood pain. There were several significant people who contributed to my injuries and several who had a hand in my healing - she was a healer. God also brought to my mind that those who injured me and those that brought me healing are all in heaven together now (each of them being believers at the time of their death - including my step-father). Isn't that something.  The enemy did not win in his attempt to destroy my life and God even made a show of his efforts!

The effect of my past on my life has reached its fullness. It is complete. I will not be able to find my way back there. A path no longer exists. It doesn't mean I won't remember my past. That would be tragic. I want to remember what God has done for me. I guess what I am trying to say is that the past will no longer have any power over me.  I even had a vision of my aunt letting me go like a balloon. I said, "Lord, shouldn't it be me releasing her?" He said, "It is in honoring her role in your life that I am giving her the privilege in death of releasing you into your destiny. Unfettered." Strange, but a true vision. 

Unfettered. 

When I heard the word "unfettered," I began to see an image of a wounded eagle that had been rescued and taken to a place of refuge for care. I then saw that its healing was complete and it was now time for it to return to its natural environment - the one it was created for. I am that eagle. Oh, how I despised the fettering at times. I fought against the hand that cared for me and tended my wounds. I wanted to be free from restraints. I wanted to do the things I was created for now! I did not understand that the battering and wounding that I endured had left me vulnerable, weak and an easy target for the enemy - that what was happening to me in His care - fettering and all - was for my own good and His ultimate purposes. 

Saturday, the Lord undid my fetters. He held up his hand and said "Fly. Catch the wind of my Spirit. Soar. Be all I created you to be."

Isaiah 40:31

but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

I don't know if I have been successful in conveying the spiritual significance of what I am trying to share. I don't even know if I fully understand it yet. Time will tell. As I move forward I feel confident that God will reveal to me where He and I are going and what I am to do. 

I rejoice in the knowledge that my wounds are healed and my chains are gone. I have been set free. I honor my Aunt Myrtle and give thanks to God for her life and give thanks that in her death, she has also been set free from the ties and bindings of this world. She is greatly loved and she will be greatly missed.