Butt, butt, butt

You did what you knew how to do, and when you knew better, you did better. - Maya Angelou


   
     Growing up is difficult.  Learning lessons about who we truly are is painful.  We can point fingers, stomp our feet and have a good cry, but when the crying's over we still have to decide what we are going to do.  It seems I have a lot of this in my head, but how to get it to my heart?
     The process of growth or should I say learning lessons can be comical.  Thou shalt not kill.  Easy one, right?  One day you read it or heard it.  It enters your brain through one of your senses.  It pings around in your brain like a bee in a jar until it is finally absorbed.  Murder is wrong.  Then you have to get it to your heart.  You swallow it.  That was easy.  No upset stomach.  Then somehow it gets in your blood and is pumped by your heart throughout your body and it becomes a part of you.  Every part of your being knows murder is wrong. 
     One day you're reading and you come up on a line in a book, "She murdered his character."  Murdered character?  Wow, never thought of it that way.  Character assassination.  Murder?  It pings in your brain.  It pings some more.  You try to ignore it pinging around in there, because to admit it is true, is to admit guilt.  I am a murderer.  I haven't just murdered, but I have assassinated, annihilated, and on occasion hid in the trees until the right opportunity revealed itself and with the precision and accuracy of a well trained sniper, took my victim out with one speeding bullet, right to the heart.  Our brain absorbs it.  You try to swallow, but it gets stuck in your throat.  You force it down to your stomach and it causes a little queasiness.  It tries to come back up but you keep shoving it down there and before you know it, it passes right by your stomach and straight to your butt.  You sit on it awhile.  "Butt she deserved it."  "Butt she talked about me."  "But isn't the word murder a little harsh?"  It's wrong.  It's wrong!  You can't deny it.  Your chest hurts when your heart finally grabs onto it and some days you don't murder and other days you ask forgiveness.

This might make it a little easier to absorb.  It does for me.

No.	Exodus 20:2-17	Ten Commandments For Kids
1	2 I am the LORD your God, which have brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. 3 You shall have no other gods before me.	Put God first.
2	4 You shall not make unto you any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth: 5 You shall not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the LORD your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me; 6 And showing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my Commandments.	Worship God only.
3	7 You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain; for the LORD will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.	Use God's name with respect.
4	8 Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. 9 Six days shall you labour, and do all your work: 10 But the seventh day is the sabbath of the LORD your God: in it you shall not do any work, you, nor your son, nor your daughter, your manservant, nor your maidservant, nor your cattle, nor your stranger that is within your gates: 11 For in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the LORD blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it.	Remember God's Sabbath.
5	12 Honour your father and your mother: that your days may be long upon the land which the LORD your God giveth you.	Respect your parents.
6	13 You shall not kill.	Do not hurt other people.
7	14 You shall not commit adultery.	Be faithful in marriage.
8	15 You shall not steal.	Do not steal.
9	16 You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour.	Do not lie.
10	17 You shall not covet your neighbour's house, you shall not covet your neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is your neighbour's.	Do not be envious of others.

Breathe, just breathe

Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.
-- M. Kathleen Casey

   
Today started out with a powerful quiet time with Jesus.  I felt the love to the point of tears most of the morning.  I know why He showed up now.  My day turned to crap and He was giving me something to hang on to.  As in all recovery, you go through cycles.  First a realization, then the pain and anger, acceptance and growth, then you move to the next level.  The moment you realize there is a part of you stuck in an infantile emotional state a swarm of feelings come over you.  Embarrassment - I'm too old to feel like this.  Anger - why am I stuck here?  Hopelessness - will I ever recover and be a somewhat normal human being?  Wait?  I'm not sure I want to be normal anymore.  The first emotional frenzy was caused by the fact I may have to travel to another state for a class.  Big deal, right?  It is a big deal that the common person can't grasp.  There's embarrassment in even talking about it, but somebody in this world knows what I'm talking about.
     I would prefer to drive.  I could fly.  Thinking about trying to get from the airport to a hotel starts my stomach churning.  It could go smooth or the "what ifs" could kill me.  What about finding the class - now we are talking real fear.  Sitting in a class with strangers is absolutely useless.  My survival skills kick in, my hyperawareness does not permit me to hear what's being taught, but I can hear ever questionable word said by an odd looking stranger.  I could be honest and ask for somebody to go with me.  Then my protective side takes over and I take care of business, but share a room, I am back to queasy.  Why explain?  I usually get frustrated stares with "Humph" mouth noises.  How can anyone know if they don't know?
     God gives me little breaks.  For a while I plug in my earphones and turn up the music as loud as it will go and focus on my job.  For lunch, four of us sit together and laugh.  We talked about nothing important and laughed.  I was looking at the three I was sitting with thanking God for intersecting our lives.  We all have histories, issues, blessings of our own that are all brought together at this table for a few brief minutes in our lives and we laugh. 
     I make it through the day, go for a little ride, and have a nice long chat with God.  Basically He says "It's time to grow up."  He wants me to take responsibility for my actions, face my weaknesses, and trust Him.  Okay fine.  I'm not thinking about it anymore today.  I didn't make this mess, why do I have to clean it up?  If I want a real life, I have to.
     I stumble on a documentary.  It's about a father and son accused of abusing several young boys.  Why do I watch this stuff?  Most of the time, I learn from it.  If I don't learn about myself, I learn about the people around me.  I get comfortable and watch about half of it.  I'm recognizing an overwhelming amount of deep denial.  It's amazing to me.  Should it be?  I minimize.  Isn't that a form of denial?  I have always minimized the abuse.  I remember the first time I told Dave about some of it, face to face.  His eyes filled with tears and I immediately started telling myself, "It wasn't that bad.  He must not have ever heard about this stuff."  Slowly I am coming to terms with it.  Tonight as I'm watching this documentary, they show a list of charges and incidents against the son and as I read it, I start choking.  I can't seem to catch my breath and I barely make it to the garbage can before I get sick.  Really?  Maybe I have a bug?  I head downstairs and as I'm nearing the bathroom I picture the list and start all over.  Writing about it right now is turning my stomach.  I have never had this reaction to sexual abuse of anyone.
     I think everyone can understand the anger.  Why do I have to fix all this?  I didn't ask to be abused.  I didn't do anything wrong.  Why is it my responsibility to suffer through the pain, embarrassment, and frustration of growing up after all these years?  I didn't deserve it.  Wow.  I didn't deserve it.  I really didn't and not that long ago I still thought I did.  Maybe I am getting somewhere.  Maybe this is working.
     The cycle of recovery spins faster over time just like the cycle of abuse and dysfunction.  A new level of recovery brings a new level of pain, but I accept it faster and rush through the denial, the anger and land on forgiveness.  Amazing to me how God has used my writing to help me see it clearly.


2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them, however you want to

But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand.
and breathe, just breathe

ANNA NALICK LYRICS
    

Good Morning

He who runs from God in the morning will scarcely find him the rest of the day.
John Bunyan

     Sometimes God wakes me early.  I think of Him as an excited parent who can't wait to start the day with me.  (It keeps me from grumpifying)  I was sitting on the deck with my coffee listening to the morning, the traffic in the distance, the birds singing, and the quiet.  I was suddenly overwhelmed with His presence.  I could feel Him sitting there with me enjoying the same sounds of morning.  When you're close to someone you can enjoy time together without words.  I have come to love these times the most.
     This morning, I was thinking about my grand kids.  When ever they stay, I look forward to seeing which one wakes first, because we always have some quiet time together before the rest of them wake and the day is forced to begin.  The oldest will wrap herself in the moment, sit by me where ever I am and repeat several times, "I love you, grandma."  The next in line wakes grumpy, so I sit next to her and rub her head until she finally looks up at me with a huge smile.  The third likes to cuddle while watching cartoons, usually placing my arm around him if I don't get it there fast enough.  The fourth as little as he is whispers in the mornings, because the others are still sleeping and it melts me as he describes his favorite toys, while rubbing his eyes, his hair tweaked.  The fifth goes for the snack drawer before he is awake.  Before he falls over we sit on the kitchen floor and share a snack without words, only smiles.  The sixth I haven't been blessed with sharing a morning with her yet.
     I believe this is how God sees each of us in the morning.  He meets us however we need Him and waits to see if we will spend a little quiet time with Him.  It doesn't have to be quiet for Him to hear my heart, but if I stay really still and listen, I can hear His.


Prayer is being - with - God. As a lover, God desires our presence, as we long for God.
Elaine Ward

Children of God

“An infinite God can give all of Himself to each of His children. He does not distribute Himself that each may have a part, but to each one He gives all of Himself as fully as if there were no others.” A. W. Tozer 

 We are children of God. Do we really know what that means? He gave us children so we could have a small clue of what it means to be loved by Him. Knowing that love is so important for our security in this world. When I had my kids, I got a glimpse of His love for me. When my kids had their first child I told each of them, "Now you know how much I love you." When I had grandchildren, they unlocked the door to a room buried deep inside me where a little dirty girl with messy hair had been hiding for years. I felt the sunshine on my face like never before. I have twirled in the yard with two precious little girls and driven hot wheels on the living room floor with boys of different ages and imaginations. They mess me up.

Whether we have children of our own or not, there is something about a little child that can melt a heart of steel. Grown men get goofy. Beth Moore said one time to imagine God looking down on us trying to get us to smile like we do with babies. I get a picture of a grumpy man given a task he doesn't feel like completing or an exhausted woman at the end of the day. If God were to look down and in the silly voice we all get when we talk to babies, say, "C'mon, give me a smile. You can do it. Just a little smile," We would be grinning like little kids. It makes me laugh thinking about it.

I have this way of dealing with people, I call it a gift, and of course I forget to use it at times. I look at other adults as kids. We are all kids inside these grown up bodies. There is a man I work with who can't keep his paperwork straight. When I see him walking sometimes I can picture him in the third grade with all his papers falling out of his peechee and he's always smiling. It warms my heart to him and I could almost hug him. How about the woman singing behind you in church totally off key? Picture her as a little girl riding in the back seat of Jesus' car, singing over the radio, totally unaware of the world around her. Jesus is smiling.

I stood next to my mom and step-dad in church one Sunday and they began to sing the song, Forever Reign. I saw my step-dad get excited, which doesn't happen often and he said, "I love this song." When I heard the words, "Running to your arms" I got this picture of him running into the arms of a huge Jesus and it choked me up. He had always been "A Man" in my world, a father figure, not a vulnerable child. I saw him in a whole new light, with a whole new respect and I can't listen to that song without seeing him running with that smile on his face, right up into the arms of Jesus. I know he's "MAN" enough to handle me sharing this story he has never heard. We are all children, even dads.

Some of us lose touch with that kid in us. Through abuse or maybe being forced to grow up faster than we should because of the death of a parent or something of that nature, we lose touch. We can't let go. We become over achievers or observers of others who dare live. I had a friend years ago who insisted on being a kid at times. One of the best times we had was jumping on the trampoline in a rain storm. It was hard for me at first, but I figured it out and let go. My kids all stood inside watching us through the window like we had lost our minds.

We all want to let go, let loose, but it can be scary. I watch my grand kids and I can almost see them as adults. My oldest granddaughter gets a little bossy but the next in line granddaughter is very quietly running the show. My grandson who is six told his mom the other day, I want to ride in grandma's car, because she has an Awesome God in her car." My daughter was confused until I explained; we listen to a countrified version of Awesome God and my grandson sings like we all should, with total abandon. I get jealous, because I don't sing. His head moves from side to side and his face wrinkles up all serious and I smile.

We should all be secure enough in His love to be a child in His presence. I rode with my daughter to pick my grandson up from school and he was so super excited when he saw me. After he got into the car and buckled, she asked him, "Are you glad grandma came with me to pick you up?" He answered as sure of himself as we all should be, "Yes mommy, because she loves me soooooo much." My first thought was that I hope and pray each one of my grand kids knows I love them with everything in me. Second thought, we all want to be secure in knowing we are loved. We are loved more than we can accept, than we can imagine, than we can grasp.

There is a woman I know who married a man with two boys. Their mother disappeared on them. This woman took those kids in like they were hers. They are hers. I know it, because her eyes light up like only a mother's can when she talks about them. God had a plan for those boys and for that mother. I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. John 14:17-19

Next time you feel like God forgot you, watch a little kid. Whether they are sleeping, playing or even pitching a fit, when your heart swells, picture Jesus looking at you that way. Then let go and dance in the rain like only He is watching.


 “If we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desire not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, we are like ignorant children who want to continue making mud pies in a slum because we cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a vacation at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” dje C.S. Lewis

Deceiving? Me?

While we are indifferent to our good qualities, we keep on deceiving ourselves in regard to our faults, until we come to look on them as virtues.” Heinrich Heine

I love to learn. That's a lie. I love to learn about things I am interested in. There are several things I have no interest in learning, like taxes and mortgages. No interest. But when I find something I am interested in, I want to learn everything I can about it. One of those things I love to learn about most is people. I think people are very interesting. I like to observe how people interact, how they problem solve, and how they deal with life's tragedies and triumphs. It isn't always easy to learn about people because of the false images they put out for the world to see. It's even hard to learn about myself because of the lies I have told me for so long.

God has been talking to me about deception and I even posted the other day, I had stopped lying years ago. God, with His beautiful sense of humor, tested me and honestly, I failed 100%. He tested me by sending a vacuum cleaner salesman of all people to my door. Sweet girl. She wanted to come into my home and show me how it worked, cleaning the carpets in one room for free. I liked her right off the bat. I need my carpets cleaned. I was in the middle of a few things and truly, I didn't want to be bothered. I didn't realize it until I closed the door and turned around to walk away, but I lied my face off right straight to her face. I didn't even think about it. Boom! I have company coming is what I told her. She offered to clean an "out of the way" room. The truth was, I wasn't interest, I didn't want to be bothered, and I don't like strangers in the safe place I call home. Why couldn't I just say that?  I had a pretty good laugh there in the kitchen with God.

I guess I have more to learn. I started looking at the ways we deceive ourselves and others. When I looked at it from the angle of trying to portray a false image, it was a lot easier to see. (Plus, Dave gave me some eye-opening literature) Of course I haven't told Dave I lied yet. Years ago I found a lot of relief when I learned that a few things that weren't acceptable to give as an answer, truly are acceptable. "I don't know" for instance, is a legitimate answer IF you don't know. "I'm not interested", is acceptable IF you're not interested. "I don't want to" is okay.  Even, "I don't care", IF you truly don't care. I think they were unacceptable, because the people I was answering, wanted a different answer.

Hinting. Hinting is wrong. It's the fear of coming out with a request. You can't be upset when you don't get the result you wanted if you didn't even ask the question. One form of deception I use often and only realized how deceptive it is recently is humor. When I say something I want to say and then laugh about it, it's really giving a false image. It's saying I'm not serious about my statement. It's keeping me safe until I get a feel for what the person thinks. Here's a little humor for you, right now, I'm hiding from the vacuum cleaner people. They are back, knocking on my door and I am deceiving them into thinking I'm not here. Whew, they're gone. Do you think God will keep sending them back until I face them with the truth? I think it's a possibility. Learning isn't fun right now, even though I am laughing.

One thing that caught my eye in reading the stuff Dave gave me, is name dropping. I'm sorry, but I find this humorous. When people drop names, my first thought is always, what does that person have to do with who you are. This whole false image thing is huge.  What about wearing clothes that make you appear thinner, or taller?  WHat about wearing a hat to cover a balding head?  What does God think of this type of "false image"?  I used to say I was a chameleon, able to go from one type of people group to another and fit in. It was like changing masks, okay, the whole costume. I did this so well, busy being whoever I was required to be to keep people happy, that I lost me and only now am I beginning to figure out who I am.

I've been asking God for the last few days, why we are talking about deceit. What is the deeper message? I just realized what it is in the last few minutes. It's our identity. He wants us to find our true identity in Him. Quit hiding behind false images. If you start reading at Ephesians 6:10 and go from there, you will learn what we are to put on and I don't see anything about a mask in there. Of course there is nothing about hiding in your room from the vacuum cleaner salesman either.  I'm up here looking for my belt of truth. Really. I am.

To be honest, I stole this quote from Dave, so now you know I am a liar and a thief.

There is nothing more winsome or attractive than a person who is secure enough in being loved by God that he or she lives with a spirit of openness and transparency and without guile - John Ortberg

“The Lord works from the inside out. The world works from the outside in. The world would take people out of the slums. Christ would take the slums out of people, and then they would take themselves out of the slums.
The world would mold men by changing their environment. Christ changes men, who then change their environment. The world would shape human behavior, but Christ can change human nature.”
― Ezra Taft Benson

Who's image?

     I write what God wants me to write and then I get in the shower.  As I'm washing my hair God starts talking.  He says, "The father of all lies is the enemy.  He portrays a false image through his lies to mislead you.  I am the true Father.  I am the Truth.  Who's image will you choose to live in?" 

What else is there to say?

In God's image?

“I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ.” Gandhi

    

     I've been watching a documentary on a priest who molested many children over many years.  The mother of one of those children said, "He was the closest thing to God we knew."  These families took this man into their homes and trusted him with their most precious gifts from God and he used God to get to them.  This morning I've been thinking about all the ways people present a false image to get what they want.  A child molester is the ultimate insecure person.  He or she is unable to relate to adults intimately.  I believe this is because they suffered some kind of abuse that has left them immature emotionally.

     How many times we hear, "He seemed like such a nice person."  Years ago I heard a story about a man who died and only then did they discover he was a she.  His/Her wife had no idea, because they had never had a sexual relationship.  This is a betrayal I can't even imagine.  Ted Bundy was said to be "A very charming" man.  There's a false image that opened the door for him to torture and murder women.

     Portraying a false image of who a person truly is, is born from insecurity.  When we think about molesters, murderers and even less violent criminals like men who marry several women and take their money, we are disgusted by their actions and angered by their deception.  These things are awful, but I think the worst false image can be that of a believer.

     We pretend we have it all together.  We pretend we are someone we are not.  We go to church raise our hands, sing with tears streaming down our faces, but who are we when we leave?  The one thing about liars that they seem to be unaware of, is people see through them.  Some people believe the facade, but a lot of people see through them.  They proudly walk around with a cross around their neck and an "I love Jesus" bumper sticker while cutting people off, parking in the handicap spot, and making rude gestures.  Maybe they aren't that bad, maybe they just tell little white lies, and only talk about others on occasion, and manipulate only when they really need something done.  But there are nonbelievers watching and seeing through the false image and they are totally turned off to the whole "God thing".

     I think we can all change the image of believers by just being honest.  Not perfect, just honest.  I don't think nonbelievers expect us to be perfect and not be fighting internal battles and struggling with normal life challenges, but I think they do expect us to be honest.  As many people as we can help, we can hurt. 

    The truth says, "I'm okay".  The lies say, "I'm not okay."  The true me is not good enough.  As lies turn people away, the truth attracts them.  I have proof of this when I think back to a moment that changed me.  When I heard Dave get up on a stage in front of hundreds of people and tell the truth.  He told about his failure, his struggles, and his recovery.  Is this not what people want to hear?  I am human and I make mistakes, but God loves me anyway and is shaping me into a better person.  Isn't that what nonbelievers are looking for?  Love, honesty, and hope?  No wonder  ^{6 Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." (John 14:6 (NIV)}

     If we change nothing else, let's trust our God, the Truth, and stop lying.

“Above all, don't lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

Am I?

It's not who you are that holds you back, it's who you think you're not.  ~Attributed to Hanoch McCarty

     When I am given a task to perform, I perform much better if I understand the whole process.  It helps me to do my job better and it helps me to solve probelms that may come up.  For example if I become a server at a local restaurant and in the middle of taking my first order, I realize I can't write fast enough, I have a problem.  If all I know is my part of the process, I can abbreviate in my own way and the problem is solved.  When the order gets to the cook and he doesn't understand my abbreviations, he has a problem.  I need to find out how that restaurant abbreviates orders so that I can take the order as quickly as possible, writing all neccessary information in a way that the cook can understand. 
     I have found that I think this way in several areas of life including recovery.  I need to understand the whole process of how I got to be the mess I am.  Lately, God and I have been talking about deception.  For the last couple days, I have been thinking about lies.  I've asked God why people lie.  Dealing with deception has been a big part of my recovery and I believe it is a big part of everyone's process.  Addiction for instance is living a lie to avoid reality. 
     Maybe most people know this stuff and to a degree I did, but tearing it apart and looking at all the moving parts, helps me to understand and understanding helps me to forgive.  Usually I try to put myself in other's shoes, but sometimes I have to ask myself why I do things to understand why others do those same things.  Why have I lied?  First I had to look at what a lie is.  A lie is a false statement made with the deliberate intent to deceive.  Something intended to convey a false impression.  This makes more sense to me.  I started lying when I was very young.  Why?  I lied to cover up the abuse.  Why?  Insecurity is why.  The word insecurity means subject to danger or injury, inadequately guarded or protected.  I was afraid of the possible response I would receive if the truth was known.
     The more thought I have put into this, I believe all lies are rooted in insecurity.  We lie for self preservation.  If you were to know the truth you might realize I am not "good enough" and I may not get what I want.  This could be safety, admiration, or a number of things.  I lie to get what I want because I am not worthy of obtaining it with truth.
     Our society has made it acceptable to lie.  If an employee were to walk into his supervisor's office and say, "I made a mistake and it cost the company money.  This is what I did... yada yada", would we be surprised if the supervisor talked behind the employee's back and said something like, "What an idiot.  I can't believe he just confessed to that.  He has to go."  I wouldn't be surprised in the least.
     It's no wonder lies are acceptable with all the insecurity in the world.  I was a liar when I was a teenager and I found the best way to make a lie believable was to include as much of the truth as I could.  Sometimes I would tell the tell the truth sarcastically to mislead.  For instance, "Yeah right mom, I was out all night getting drunk."  If you say it in a sarcastic tone, it plays on the guilt of the person you are intentionally misleading.  How many husbands come home and say in a sarcastic tone, "Sure honey, that's what I was doing.  I spent the night with a woman in a motel room, not even thinking about you."  He probably did.  Insecurity made him lie.  The fear of losing because of the possible response if the truth were known.  The truth could pack his wife's bags and she would be gone and he would lose.  A cheater lies to himself because of his insecurity.  "I need this other person to be complete."
     Parents lie to their children to get them to do what they want them to do, because they are insecure in their ability to parent?  Employer's lie to employees to accomplish what they need done, because they are insecure in their ability to manage? 
     Arrogance is insecurity.  An arrogant person wants the attention to impress others with the image they portray.  Arrogance and confidence are two completely different beliefs.  Arrogant people control because of their insecurity.  They are afraid of being controlled.  I get this.  I can come across as arrogant in my self protection.  I think narcissism is focusing on yourself to avoid what you believe to be other's opinions of you.  It's living a lie to what you truly believe.  Insecurity growing into self hatred.
     The compulsive iar has built an image of himself that he has to continue lying to uphold.  The habit isn't the lying as much as building a false image. 

     The truth sets you free?  Why?  Honesty creates security.  If you are secure in who you are in Christ, honesty is a given.   Exodus 3:14  And God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM.” And He said, “Thus you shall say to the children of Israel, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’”  When I hear this statement, the words that come to mind are power, security, and truth.   If we are secure we can say I am who I am and mean it without the twinge in our stomach caused by self doubt.

     The devil is the father of all lies and all lies are from him.  They say truth hurts, but lies hurt more.  Lies hurt others, but hurt the liar the most.  Pain - Lies are born in it, grow through it and cause more of it.

     More than ever the verse I have heard Dave say many times makes sense.  James 5:16 (NIV)

¹⁶ Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.

     Insecurity causes a person to lie, creating a false image of who they are.  You have to confess everything to another before they can truly love you.  If they believe the false image you are presenting, then it is that image they love.  No wonder people cheat.  You know who you've been honest with and you know who you have not been honest with.  Therefore you know who loves the real you and who loves the false you.

     The whole cycle of insecurity, lying, more insecurity, more lying is really sad and I have a new compassion for the person who feels they are not worthy of the truth.  I quit lying years ago and in return I have become secure enough to face the truth and to speak out about it.  It's a cycle, truth, security, more truth, more security.  I'm even starting to believe God really does love me and a couple other people do too.

“People think that a liar gains a victory over his victim. What I’ve learned is that a lie is an act of self-abdication, because one surrenders one’s reality to the person to whom one lies, making that person one’s master, condemning oneself from then on to faking the sort of reality that person’s view requires to be faked…The man who lies to the world, is the world’s slave from then on…There are no white lies, there is only the blackest of destruction, and a white lie is the blackest of all.”
― Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

Marlys

God’s plan is like a movie. All the good and bad things are arranged together for the good ending. - unknown

     Today is my friend Marlys' birthday.  I have thought about her several times throughout the day and smiled.  When I became pregnant as a teenager, barely fifteen, my friend Marlys supported me like no other friend.  We played cards many Friday nights while our friend's were partying and having a good time.  I waited nine months for the day she would say, I can't spend time with you, because I want to be a teenager.  She was 17 when I got pregnant and could have been doing many things other than babysitting me.  I wondered many times if I would be as good of a friend to her.  She had a way of making me feel okay.
     The very day I found out I was pregnant, I pitched a fit like no other.  I screamed at God and asked Him why a thousand times.  In all honesty, I asked Him "Why not Marlys?"  She was older and had it more together than I did.  She wanted kids while I had no plans of ever bringing a child into this ugly world.  That's the way I saw it.  God messed up. 
     I'll never forget Marlys curled up on the bed with me while I cried my eyes out.  I was so scared and she was right there with me.  She held my hand, threw a shower, and defended me to all the local gossipers.  She got me through it.  When my son was born she took us everywhere with her.  She loved him like he was another of her many nieces and nephews and even refered to herself as Aunty Mar. 
     One day when my son was about 5, a phone call helped me understand why God may have made the choice not to allow Marlys to be the one to get pregnant.  My mom called to tell me Marlys had been in a bad car accident and within days she was gone.  I thank God she didn't have any kids to be crushed by her death.  Her funeral was the most difficult I ever experienced. 
     Over 25 years later, I still get choked up when I think about her.  I wonder what it would be like if she was still here.  I've had a couple close friends since Marlys, but no one will ever replace her.  I think I still hurt, because I never told her how I felt about her, how much I loved her, how much she meant to me..  She told me one time, "I know you love me, you're just a hard-ass."  Sometimes when I think about her,  I have to tell somebody they are special to me, so I can let go of her.

Some people come into our lives for a reason, stay for a season, and touch our hearts for a lifetime.

Crow

     Vindicate the weak and fatherless; Do justice to the afflicted and destitute - Psalm 82:3


     Yesterday I watched an altercation on the sidewalk as I sat at a stop light.  The light seemed to stay red longer than usual and I wondered if I was meant to see everything I saw.  I hadn't even planned on being in that area.
     I heard a thump and looked over to see a crow lying on it's back on the sidewalk.  At first I thought it was dead, but then it moved.  I waited for it to clear it's head and take off, but it was struggling.  Then out of nowhere came two more crows and they attacked the injured bird, tormenting him.  He was making an awful sound that made me cringe.  They didn't let up in the least, constant attack while they screached in that way they do that can sounds like laughter.  I thought I was going to have to get out of my car and kick some crow.  I don't even like crows, but more than that I don't like the weak being tormented. 
     Then to my surprise a super crow showed up.  He chased off the tormentors and I found myself smiling over this little sidewalk episode.  Then super crow went to the injured crow and pecked at him.  I was crushed.  Until he pecked so hard that the injured crow flipped over on his feet.  He made his way to the shelter of an electrical box.  Super crow stood guard screaming his warning out to those who dared mess with his friend.
     The light turned green and off I went, wondering what I was supposed to get out of that.  Animals protect their injured from preditors while they recover.  I see it all the time on animal planet.  What was the significance of this scene?  Then it hit me.  His own kind became the enemy when he was down.  His own species turned on him.  Super crow didn't have to protect his friend from a ferocious dog or hungry cat.  He had to protect him from two birds that looked just like him.  If they had all been flying together, I could not have identified them. 
     It reminded me of people and I got kind of sad for awhile. 

“To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.”
― Criss Jami

Sharing

“The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians: who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.”
― Kevin Max

 

      As I have said before my mouth filters tend to be worn on my ears.  If ever I offend someone this could be the day.  I don't mean to offend anyone.  I very much don't ever want to cause harm to anyone, but if I hurt you and it causes change for the better or healing, I'm not afraid of it.  I have been fighting a battle the last couple days that has caused a lot of anger and also caused me to put my words away.  I had to figure out exactly what was going on inside me before I dared write anything.  I have figured it out.
 
      A friend and I had a conversation the other day about finding it more difficult to forgive other Christians. My first thought and what I told her, is that I believe it is more difficult because we are supposed to be brothers and sisters, all Children of God.  Nobody can hurt you like a sibling.  Siblings are supposed to have your back, no matter what.  My friend and I each have one person we feel is more difficult to forgive than others who have done things that are just as bad or worse.  
     I have been a Christian for many years, but only recently decided to give up the milk and do God's will instead of my own.  I have watched Christians hoping to learn what I need to change and how to be a better person.  The people God has moved into my life this last year are amazing and I am beginning to see His reasoning for each of them. 
     I have had to ask myself, why I find it so difficult to forgive one person especially a fellow believer.  As I sit back and look at all the people I have met who have been positive influences, I compare them to find the difference.  God has placed two pastors in my life and they have both helped me tremendously.  He has opened up old relationships to become a whole new experience.  He has placed women in front of me that I know I can turn to and I will be there for them.  He has also placed people who are challenging to be around, but I know they are in my life for a reason.
     God's timing is amazing.  I have battled sharing my story.  There is a huge part of me that says this is my life and it's nobody's business, but then there is another part that reminds me of all the times I read a book or heard a speaker who was telling my story and I learned from it.  It's difficult to be open with your shortcomings and failures, but there's something to be said about releasing it.  You are only as sick as your secrets.  Who can say, including the enemy, "You're a cheater" if I've already admitted to cheating?  Who can say, "You are abusive" when I've already admitted to being abusive?  Who can say, "You're an addict" when I've already admitted to being an addict?  I could be here all night, but I think you get the point.  Take the power away.
    Going back to the differences between the two Christians, one I respect and want to be more like and the one I just don't trust.  The difference is the story.  The alcoholic that helps the alcoholic is the one who shares the struggles.  The cancer patient who helps the cancer patient is the one shares how they feel about the pain.  The cheater who helps the cheater is the one who admits to why they cheated and how difficult it was to stop.  Abusers help abusers with their story, people who struggle with doubt and unbelief help others who struggle, by telling their story.  If you pretend you have it all together, placed neatly in a box, you have nothing left out to give.  It's those who have had their life shattered and the pieces lay at their feet who help others.  The light shines better through cracked pots.  Struggles are the fertilizer for compassion. 
     Sharing our struggles makes us all equal.  Those that keep it in a box under their arm have a free hand to point with and that's what we fear.  I've made major mistakes that have hurt people in ways I can't even imagine going through myself.  I have been hurt to the same degree.  The most amazing people in my life have done some of the most hurtful and selfish things to others and I love them for being brave enough to open up and share.  I trust them.  It's bonding, like sitting around the table on a cold winter day with the fire burning and  all our pieces spilled out on the table, as we all struggle to put them all back together.
     The person with their pieces in a box unwilling to trust have to feel left out.  It has to be a lonely feeling.  I've been accused of some pretty awful things that I didn't do and the reason it hurts is because I have been so open about my mistakes and failures.  So I keep dumping them out there for all the world to see.  What I realize is that my fear is being a Christian that turns away an unbeliever with by behavior.  Behavior that says I am better than you and behavior that judges instead of showing compassion.  All anger is fear based.  Why does some behavior make me angry?  Because I am afraid I might behave that way.  Joyce Meyer has said many times "As many people as you can help, you can hurt."  I've seen it.  From illegal acts committed by a Christian to everyday gossip, manipulation, and lies.  The thought of turning a person away from Christ by my own carelessness, makes me sick to my stomach. 
     I sat in church one Sunday morning bound up in my own misery.  A lady walked in and sat next to me, immediately telling me it was her first time at that church.  In my own misery, I wasn't very friendly.  I tried to fake a little kindness and tell her I was sure she would like it, but truth be told, I wanted to be left alone.  It was a day of demon fighting and I didn't have time for niceties.  I was cold.  Half way through the service she got up and left.  I don't know why she left, but it bothers me that I might have caused her to leave and I wonder if she ever came back.  I'm sure when we fail God has other means to accomplish His plans, but I don't want to fail when given the opportunity to serve. 

     Just in case there is any confusion on what I have said here let me summarize.  People have had trauma happen to them and people have caused trauma to others.  What makes me angry is when individuals are busy pointing fingers at those willing to share, while keeping their trauma, failures and shortcomings a tight lipped secret.  I refuse to let them shut me up.  I support anyone who opens up and shares when they are ready.  Don't let the fear of judgement keep you quiet like I have done, because telling your story causes healing for the story teller as well as the one hearing the story.  Follow in the foot steps of the greatest story teller.  If you have to, do what I do, I keep a stone in my pocket to remind me of Jesus' words, "Let the person among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her."  

    

“If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and true enemies; succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; be honest and frank anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; do good anyway…
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God; it was never between you and them anyway.”
― Kent M. Keith

Closet? Again?

  

“Our wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful part of us.”
― David Richo

     The soft rap on the door startled me, "Hey, are you in there?"
     I pulled my knees up tighter under my chin and stayed silent.
     "I know you're in there.  Open the door."  It was Mr. David
     "No."
     "Why not?"
     "Just leave me alone."
     "I can't."
     "Why not?"
     "I don't want to go sit in the lawn chair, it's uncomfortable."
     "Go away."  I didn't want him to see what I had done, so I stayed quietly in the closet, hoping he would get tired of waiting and leave.
     After several minutes, I realized it wasn't going to happen, so I pushed the door open, barely.  "Are you happy now?"
     "It's a start."  He stepped into the very small closet and sat beside me, pulling his knees up under his chin, "I'm too old for this."
     "What are you doing anyway?"
     "I'm just going to sit here with you."
     We sat in silence.  I could barely feel the warmth of his arm against mine and I felt safe.  After several minutes the tears started.  "Do you see what I did?"
     "What did you do?"
     "I went and got some of my stuff back."
     He looked around and noticed the bundle of pride on the shelf, and the bucket of anger in the corner.  "Wow, even the anger huh?  Where did you find it?"
     My friend, Lucy.  Every time things are going well, she seems to show up and want to go through old pictures." 
     "Lucy?  Who is that?"
     "You probably heard of her dad.  She's named after him.  He's the guy trying to destroy the whole neighborhood."
    "I see.  Where did you get that pile of lust?"
     "Lucy got to quit her job and she's taking a long vacation."
     "I see.  Why did you go get this stuff?"
     "It's what I know.  It's comfortable.  All that new stuff was scary.  Healthy friendships?  Forgiveness?  Ministry?  It was just too much."
     "So you decided to get your old stuff back?"
     "Yep."
     "Come on."  He struggled to get to his feet.
     "I'm not coming out.  It's scary out there."
     "It's the same house outside of this door."
     "The furniture's new.
     "You don't have to sit on it all at once."  There was that smirk.
     "I'm not coming out.  It's too hard."
     "Okay.  You go ahead and sit here and when you're ready, you call me."
     I waited several minutes after hearing the back door close, before I finally crawled from the closet.  I stood outside the door and stretched, my muscles sore from being cramped in the small space.  Suddenly something caught my eye and l looked to the back door to see Mr. David leaned against it, with his familiar smirk. 
     "I thought you left."
     "And miss you stepping out of there?  It's just a little set back.  That's all."
     "I don't think I can do this.  I don't know how."
     "Well first of all, we need to get you prepared for the next time Lucy stops by.  She is not your friend and you can't be opening the door to her."
     "I know."  I took a few steps toward Mr. David when I heard the closet door squeak behind me.  I looked back to see The Man walk out.  "I didn't know he was in there."
     "I know.  He was sitting on the top shelf, swinging His feet and talking to you, but you refused to see or hear Him.  That's why He called me.  I can't believe you didn't hear Him up there moving stuff around, while we were talking." 
     "Why would He get in the closet with me?"
     "Same reason I did.  Now, you two spend some time together and when you're ready, I'll be back to help you haul that stuff away."
     "Again?"
     The Man finally spoke, "As many times as it takes for you to leave it there."

    

“I suppose that since most of our hurts come through relationships so will our healing, and I know that grace rarely makes sense for those looking in from the outside.”
― W. Paul Young, The Shack

Peeling or Cleaning

     I have spent the last year peeling back the layers of my onion, also known as recovery.  I don't know anyone who enjoys peeling onions.  None of my friends have ever said I'm looking forward to going home and peeling an onion.  I think on my day off, I'll spend the day peeling an onion.  No.  I have to peel an onion if I want to make dinner.  The process of peeling an onion is ugly, because your hands seem to absorb the juices getting on everything you touch and you cry.  You can't help the tears.  It burns.  So I took my onion outside and hucked it against a cement wall.  I don't need a stinking onion in my soup.
     Now I'm going to clean house.  Big difference?  Not!  Have you ever noticed when you decide to do some deep cleaning, the house gets messier, before it gets cleaner?  You start piles, stuff to give away, stuff to give back to the rightful owner, and stuff to throw away.  The give away pile is pretty easy.  Clothes you've outgrown, things you don't use, and things you know other people need more than you.  We wrap this stuff in forgiveness. I have outgrown this old coat of anger so I'm going to give it away.  Wrap up a little of this bitterness in a thick layer of forgiveness and throw it away.  This old sadness, well, it doesn't even belong to me.
     I've found things I forgot I had.  Some of it, I didn't want to find and other things make me feel a little less crazy.  I had stopped writing years ago, but I found it has a healing affect on me and I'm glad I found it again.  I've also found buried under the bed a few memories that I'm not sure that I'm happy to have found.  Though if I ignore them under there, they aren't going to clean themselves.  I dig them out, clean the dust off and sit back against the bed and look at them.  Cleaning sucks.

I think housework is the reason most women go to the office.  ~Heloise Cruse
    
     Then in the middle of cleaning I took a break and walked out to the mailbox.  I got a letter from the head of the local Home Tours Association.  They want to put my house on the tour.  Why?  My house is nothing special.  My house is dirty.  Why would anyone want to look at it?  Compared to the neighbors house, mine is simple and not very exciting.  The letter states that it's a requirement for living amongst this group of people.  My house has to be available to be toured and shared.
     They will send out the local inspector/interior decorator.  Well, that's fine, I'm ready.  Then I remember that closet, I better get to it.  When I open the door a pile of stuff rolls out on the floor in front of me.  It's too much.  I stuff it all back in and slam the door shut on it.  Who will be looking in the closet anyway?  That's my stuff and it's nobody's business. 
   The doorbell rings.  I swing open the door to see a tall smirking man, Mr. David.  "Hey, how are you?  I have to say from the get go, I am here to help.  You can tell me to go at any time.  I just want to see you be the best you can be."
     "I'm ready."
     He steps in the door and takes a look around, "Wow, you've come a long way in a year."  I'm embarrassed that it took a whole year to make this much progress, but Mr. David points out all that I've done, painting, steam cleaning, and even a little remodeling.  "Now all you have to do is rearrange some of this furniture, throw some of it out and get to those closets."
     "Closets?  Who said anything about closets?"
    "This isn't a pick and choose thing.  Everything has to be looked at and cleaned."
     "I'm not doing the closets.  I refuse."
     "It's not so bad once you get started and I've been sent by the Man at the top to help you.  You can do it now or you can do it later, but it has to be done."
     "You and the Man can get out of my house then."  I throw him out and slam the door behind him.  Then I remember the swatches and I throw them out to.  I don't even want to remember he was ever here.  I watch him through the window on the back door.  Mr. David finds an old lawn chair leaned against the garage wall, dusts it off, and sits in it to wait, but I know I am not letting him back in.  He can wait out there forever.  He's just too willing to look at the ugly stuff in my closet.  There must be something wrong with him.  Occasionally, I walk over to the back door and peek out the window.  He's sitting there patiently waiting.  When I turn around to go back to what I was doing, ignoring him, there is a Man standing in my kitchen.  I recognize Him right away.  He is The Man.  I can't look Him in the eye, because I know what He wants.  I push past Him and go about my business, but He follows me from room to room, not saying a word, because He knows that I know.  Finally, annoyed by His presence and unable to ignore Him any longer, I scream, "You get out, too.  I don't want to be on this stupid tour, I don't need your man, Mr. David and I don't need you."
     He stands there looking at me for a second and I see a tear form in His eye as He turns to leave.  "I only want the best for you."
     "It's ugly."
     "I knew that before I asked you to look at it.  I know everything in those closets and I still want you with Me on this.  But if you want Me to go, I will be waiting outside with Mr. David and we will be praying for you."
     "It's too much work."
     "Okay." 
     As He nears the door, I give in, "Okay.  I'll clean the stupid closets already!"
    
     Mr. David and I stand together looking at the closed door.  He rubs his hands together, "Let's get to it."
     "That's easy for you to say.  It's not your closet."
     "Why are you so angry with me?  Is it because I've already cleaned my closet?  Let me tell you something, The Man gave me this job I didn't choose it.  He sent me to you, because our "stuff" is similar.  I know how to attack this "stuff" because I have done it in my own closet and I still deal with some of it.  Open the door.  We can't clean this stuff up until you open the door."
     "Okay.  I just don't want to, because there is a mirror hanging on the inside."
     "That will help, though you probably want to grab a bottle of glass cleaner."
     I swing open the door to let him look inside.  Stuff rolls out around our feet.  "There.  What do you see?"
     "Wow, some of this stuff has been used recently.  Look at all that judgement.  You've been to the neighbor's house, haven't you?"
     "I was just looking for some tips on how to clean."
     "Yeah right.  Okay, well instead you took some of this judgement over there, used it and are now harboring it here in this closet."
     "She is ignoring her closet and it's giving the community a bad name.  The people touring will see it.  They will be turned off to us.  Why do I have to clean my mess and nobody is even pointing out hers?" 
     "The Man will take care of her.  She is not your concern, especially when all this stuff is rolling out of your closet."
     "Her closet is full of judgement, manipulation, and lies."
     "Are you sure we won't find some of that in here?"
     "Okay, okay, I get it.  When we get through here, I want it to look like the lady down the street.  Her house is so clean and neat.  She seems so happy."
     "You know the big chest of drawers she has in her kitchen?"
     "Yes, it's beautiful."
     "Behind it is a closet door she has almost forgotten about.  She has kept it hidden there for many years.  In her mind, it's clean, but in her heart she knows there are things in there that scare the life out of her.  You don't know what really happens in another's house, behind their closed doors."
     "Okay.  You're right.  I didn't know that."
     "Let's get started.  Here's the plan, I'm going in there and I'm throwing out everything we need to look at, but then you have to be the one to look at each item, identify it and decided what you're going to do with it.  I can help, but I can't make the final decision."
     In a very angry tone, I say, "Fine."
     The first thing he throws out is pride.  I pick it up and when he's not looking I stuff it into my pocket.  Then he says, "I saw that."
     "What?"
     "Put it with the rest of the stuff."  I refuse.  I stand there and watch him, but he stops, turns around and leans against the door jam, "Really?"
     "I might need this one day."
     "Really?"
     "You know your pockets are full of jerkness."
     "Um, I seem to have found a jackpot of jerkness in this closet, so do you really want to talk about mine?"
     "Some days I don't like you very much."
     "Remember when I told you that The Man sent me to help you, because our closets are similar?"
     "Yes."
     "Sometimes you don't like me very much, because you see a reflection of you.  The things you don't like about me are the things you don't like about you.  Let me show you something."  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of pride,  It was much smaller than mine and obviously had areas torn off of it, but it was still pride.  "The reason you throw me out, is because of the things you see that you don't want to face, but they are also the reasons you allow me to get on my hands and knees and dig this crappage out of your closet.  You know my closet was the same, holding the same treasures, if you will."  He smiles.  Then he looks at the bundle of pride in his hand.  I see a tear forming as he reaches over and gently sets it in the pile to be thrown out.  After a few minutes of contemplation, I reach into my pocket and pull out my bundle and set it next his.  We share a smile and he dives back in, while I begin to sort through the mess.
     Suddenly, he cries out, "Hey, look what I found.  Here's your humility."  He turns around and tosses it to me.  "That's something to keep.  You'll need it in the future, when you're on your hands and knees helping somebody dig through their closet."


Housework, if it is done right, can kill you.  ~John Skow

The Word

     2 Timothy 3:16
All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness,
    

     If all scripture is God-breathed that says a lot about how powerful The Word is.  God gave us The Word to communicate how He loves us and how we are to live.  Words are not only how He communicates with us, but how we are to communicate with each other.  Words are powerful enough to build kingdoms and destroy lives.  They communicate love and hate.  They begin marriages and they end marriages.  We often remember first words and last words.  Do we give words enough respect to use them wisely?  With love?  Actions speak louder than words, especially when we lie.  God's actions confirm His Word.
     If we thought of words as tools would we be more careful in choosing which ones we use?  A hammer can do just as much damage as it can play a role in building.  You can strike with words missing the mark if you don't listen to the master carpenter.  They can be used to build up hope, encouragement, and self esteem or they can tear down destroying hope and self esteem.  Like words, when using a saw you should measure and re-measure because once you cut that board there is no putting it back together. 
     I am trying to learn to put my tools/words away when I am angry, because it seems impossible to use them correctly.  We focus too much on what I need to say, or what I think you need to hear for me to feel better.  Who are we to judge what another needs to hear unless we are passing our words through a filter of God's love.  There are times when God tells us to say something that makes no sense to our human minds.  But He knows the whole picture.  
  I was in the shower one evening when God told me to send an email to Dave.  He told me exactly what I needed to say and it made no sense to me.  It was an apology, though Dave was not the person I had offended.  I didn't understand, but I obeyed.  As I wrote the email I first told him that I didn't understand and hoped it would mean something to him.  As I started writing, the tears came.  I realized how sorry I really was for what I had done.  It took Dave a long time to respond and I wondered if the email was really meant for me.  When he did respond it quickly became obvious that the email was meant for both of us.  Somebody had offended him in the same way and he felt my email was a gift from God that set him free.  I would have never thought to say those words to Dave on my own, they seemed meaningless passed from me to him, but God had a bigger plan.  Those words were powerful to both of us and gave us both healing.
     We allow God to instruct us in many ways, our actions, our time, and our relationships, but I have had to practice surrendering my vocabulary, my words.  I have a tone sometimes, that I don't hear, but others do and it hurts.  I have a sarcastic sense of humor that some people don't understand and can be hurt by.  I try to pay attention to the ways others use their words.  There are people who can talk about nothing and put a smile on every one's face.  I try to be more like them.  There are people who offend me when they argue with everything I say or try to correct me like their doing me a favor in my growth.  I try not to do that to others.  The best way I have found to use words is to receive more of them than I give away.  Not easy for me.  Some of us were born to talk.
     In the last year I have taken out a lot of my rage on Dave.  Only because God was involved have we continued to be friends.  Yesterday he told me the last two times I raged at him it hurt.  Why now?  Because I know him.  Because I know him my words have more power.  I seem to be less careful with my words when I'm with people I'm close to.  These should be the people I am most aware with.  We take those closest to us for granted. 
     I have had people say things to me, that hurt more than they should, because of my history there is already a wound.  This is another reason to surrender our words to God and trust Him to direct them.  It takes time to change and we want others to be predictable.  One of my daughters recently became frustrated with me.  My other daughter had done something that I had yelled at her for years earlier.  "Why aren't you saying anything to her?"  I had to explain, I am learning to keep my mouth shut and maybe I should have back then.
     Many times I have gone home at the end of the day and beat myself up for something I said without thinking, something I said in anger, or even something nice I said, but with my own agenda.  More often I have beat myself up for things I didn't say.  When some one dies and we never told them how special they were to us.  We hold back compliments, apologies and love.  Good feelings need to be shared for the joy of others.  I'm also learning to smile in place of words, it's not as often misunderstood.  Patting a hand or sitting next to someone and bumping their shoulder can say just as much if your not sure of the right words.
  As I do when I am writing, I ask Him to speak through me, help me surrender my will and keep the demons from using my tongue.

"The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks."
- Luke 6:45

Victim? Abuser?

If you’re going through hell, keep going.
-Winston Churchill

      

 I keep thinking about the movie Men in Black.  Throughout the movie you find out different characters who look perfectly normal are aliens.  I relate to this because I have always felt as though I was trying to hide my alienism from the rest of the world.  People would look at me funny and I would know they were on to me.  But then I would also look at other people and wonder.  I remember as a little girl thinking that the abuse was normal and all little girls went through it.  It was part of life.  But as I asked questions and got older I found out most of my friends were not abused.  This wasn't normal.  I was different.
    
     Through life on occasion I would be pleasantly surprised to find there were people like me.  I say pleasantly only because the more of them I met the more "okay" I felt.  In many of my discussions with Dave, he has helped me to feel even more "okay".  He has a tendency to point out the good, the strengths I have gained through it, and the ways God can use me.
     This morning I was thinking how God has strategically placed women who have been abused and what a threat to the enemy we can all be if we suit up, if we lock arms and go after him where it hurts.  We have suffered one of the most heinous offenses.  I've said to Dave many times, "What can they do to me, now?"  I've seen the worst of what the enemy can do.  The stuff I have lived through has caused a lot of fear in my life, but as it fades through healing there is a bravery that grows bigger than any fear I have ever felt.  There is a healthier anger at the true enemy.  To suit up, we have to face it, face what happened to us.  We have to feel the anger, forgive the offender and find who we are in Christ.  He has a plan for us and in these days we can be powerful.  The enemy whispers shame, guilt and hatred in our ears to keep us bound and immobile in the fight against him.  When we don't face the abuse we lose, he wins.  We are everywhere, in all shapes and sizes, with the ability to influence others where God has placed us.
     Dave's words haunted me for days when he said, "Your story has no power until you share it."  As I have shared I have seen heads pop up in the crowd and say, "I was abused and I'm healing."  We heal and then we reach out to others and hold their hands so they can heal.  Everyone that breaks free of the bondage of abuse takes power from the enemy. 

     The enemy hit us hard when some of us were very young and we need to do the same.  I recently sat down with my two daughters and told them my whole story.  They were absolutely amazing.  They have both been a huge support to me and I am so glad I told them.  It has helped them understand me and the crap I put them through growing up.  The best part of it was when I heard them say, "We have to talk to our kids."  I wasn't ready when my kids were little but I look at my grand kids and I ache for them.  I have come forward and stepped out for those 6 precious little lives.  Boys and girls are both abused. 
     We talk to kids about how to stay safe so they don't become victims, but how do we do this early enough when some of them are toddlers.  I know a girl who was abused at three years old and had no idea what was happening to her and that it was wrong.  She was never taken for counseling or allowed to talk about it.  She has never healed.  When abuse victims don't heal, they hurt themselves.  They become promiscuous or prostitutes, they cut themselves and become addicts.  When the abuser stops hurting them, they continue abusing themselves.  I did it.  I have abused myself for most of my life. 
     What about the little boy who was abused at three years old.  His mother felt guilty because she had brought the abuser into the boys life.  She didn't know that even though he acted completely normal during the day, he cried at night.  The boy became an overachiever and in the mothers guilt and denial she thought he was okay because he got good grades and his bedroom walls were covered with awards.  Of course he is okay.  As he grew into his preteen years, she didn't know he fought the demons of pornography every night.  She didn't know that he felt dirty every time he satisfied himself trying to escape the horror in his mind.  She didn't know that he found alcohol to soothe the guilt and that his he was a sex addict.  She didn't know he fantasized about hurting other little boys.  She didn't understand that those other little boys represented himself.  One day he went to prison for years because he really hurt someone.  How would she know?  Now all the little boys who were his victims are hurting themselves and the cycle goes on affecting generations.  They may not all abuse others, but if they don't heal they will abuse themselves.  Often the children of victims become the victims.  Who is to blame?  The original abuser, the mother and the victim who became the abuser.

     I wasn't abused because I am different, I am different because I was abused.


Though I can’t change what happened, I can choose how to react. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being bitter and locked up.
-Tori Amos

Blocking

     Blocking.  The word leads me to think of football.  In football one way blocking is used is by the offensive team to protect the quarterback, the heart of the team, if you will.  Blocking is meant for the survival of the quarterback.  Survival from trauma and injury.  I use blocking to survive from trauma and injury too.  I am an exceptional blocker, and if surviving abuse was a well known sport in this country, I believe people would wear jerseys with my name plastered across their backs.
     In the addiction world and the abuse world there is talk of a gigantic elephant in the living room.  Family members walk around it, blocking the part of the brain that admits the animal's presence.  I believe I could almost have a calm elegant dinner while a train wreck hurled train cars all around me.  I can be told something I don't want to hear and the minute the messengers lips stop moving, I'm asking, "What?  What did you just say?"  Blocking is a sibling to denial.  I heard what was said and it is already stored somewhere deep in my brain, but to admit it, would be to allow the reality to traumatize my heart.  The word trauma has lost some of it's meaning so let me tell you it is a deeply distressing or disturbing experience.  It is emotional shock following a stressful event or a physical injury, which may be associated with physical shock and sometimes leads to long-term neurosis.  Blocking and denial are a way our minds protect themselves from pain and damage. 
     If you trip, your hands spring out to catch you.  If you see an object flying toward you, you duck.  We slam on the brakes to avoid car accidents and we run when danger is chasing us.  This is the brain also protecting us from trauma and injury.  Everyone accepts this.
     People tend to judge more harshly when it's someone like the parent of an abuse victim or a husband of a cheating wife.  Why didn't they see what was going on?  We all saw it.  The difference is there was no emotional damage to our brains when we saw what was happening in someone else's life.  This survival skill is used when a loved one dies.  Shock and deniall are the first stage of grief.  With a death we are forced into the next stages, because we have to admit that person is no longer with us.  With ongoing abuse whether it is physical, sexual, emotional, or matrimonial (cheating spouse) we can comfortably stay in the first stage and deny it, because the next stage is pain and pain hurts.  When I finally decided to accept every bit of it, I went straight into the stage of pain and bounced back and forth between it and anger.  This is where my mom is in her recovery from my abuse, bouncing back and forth between pain and anger.  Even though they abused me, I have to remember they abused her daughter.  She has her own healing to walk through.  Her decision to move into the stage of pain has helped me to heal. 
     Please say a prayer for my mom and all the other parents in this world who are feeling the pain of their hurting kids.


"We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey". -- Kenji Miyazawa (1896-1933)

Jesus loves me!

     I tend to think I spent my life screwing up one thing after another.  When I am in sync with God and we are communicating, I hear Him tell the story differently.  We are children to Him.  Learning lessons and growing.  Struggling to learn what the world is all about.  We make mistakes and trip up, we blatantly rebel.  We get spankings and suffer consequences.  We receive blessings we don't deserve and "free passes" from punishment we should receive.  We pass through each experience specifically planned by our Father to develop the best in us, exactly what He wants.  It's easiest to see this if you are a parent yourself. 
     My kids put me through sleepless nights, fits of anger and sadness only a parent can feel.  They hurt me deeply and made me extremely proud.  I have ached for them, cheered for them, kept silent when I so badly wanted to give them a little piece of my knowledge.  Exactly what I put my parents through.  Exactly what I put God through.
     When we turn our lives over to God, the whole process starts over.  We drink milk until we are ready for solids.  We rebel by choosing not to do what we know to do.  I, at 47 years old, will occasionally cover my ears and say, "I'm not listening."  I wonder, does God smile when I do this, like I smiled at my babies?  We force Him to talk louder and we act like we don't need Him.  We scream at Him about unfairness and try to change His mind.  We think we know more than God at times.  We are children learning and growing and though we need to ask forgiveness and RECEIVE it.  We are his kids, singing off key, covered in mud, spilling our milk, crying over silly things, falling down and getting back up, complaining, whining and stomping our feet.  His love for us doesn't change.  He sees the beauty in us when nobody else can.  He sees the beauty in us when we don't see it at all.
   

Jesus loves me! This I know,
For the Bible tells me so;
Little ones to Him belong,
They are weak but He is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
The Bible tells me so.

Jesus loves me! He who died,
Heaven's gate to open wide;
He will wash away my sin,
Let His little child come in.
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
The Bible tells me so.

Jesus loves me! loves me still,
When I'm very weak and ill;
From His shining throne on high,
Comes to watch me where I lie.
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
The Bible tells me so.

Jesus loves me! He will stay,
Close beside me all the way;
He's prepared a home for me,
And some day His face I'll see.
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
The Bible tells me so.