Random Ramblings and Leave of Absence

Just wondering~
Was I being totally petty when I asked the girl at Starbucks to wash her hands before she made my mocha, which was right after she returned from wiping up a mess underneath a table with a cloth, spray cleaner and her hands?

Do you think it's a "coincidence" that since writing my 'Saturday Blessings' blog and my recent 'living by faith(Morning Coffee with God)' blog that my daughter is suddenly going through some really hard things at school and with friendships; my husband's windshield got smashed by a rock yesterday; we were hit with a financial "thing" that we didn't see coming; the promise of some temporary full time clerical work for me suddenly changed and doesn't look that will pan out; I was asked to do a significant amount of floral work within these next two weeks, which would be some good income, but can't because I'm having surgery on my wrist; and there are some increased "issues" with some of my other children.

Should I expect to get a full $10.00 of gas when that is what I asked for and paid for (plus an additional $.50 just for using my debit card) and the guy manually stops the pump at $9.98? (Okay, I WAS petty and asked him for my other $.02 worth...!)

Taking a Leave of Absence~
Tomorrow's the day. Wrist surgery! I haven't been nervous about the prospect...until this morning...realizing that tomorrow morning at this time I'm willingly walking in and allowing them to poke and probe. I'm sure I'll be glad once it is over...well... once I've recovered and am fully functional again.

I'd appreciate your prayers. The surgery should take about 2 hours under general anesthesia--Yeah!! I don't want to know anything that is going on! The doctor is performing a number of procedures, so I'll have a few scattered scars, but nothing like Frankenstein (I think). Dependent upon how much repair is needed (He'll know better once he has a 'visual' inside) I'm looking at 2-6 weeks in a splint/cast thing-a-ma-jig.

So, here's to modern medicine. I'm thankful that I can get "fixed"(It's becoming more difficult to post--very painful--but I'm willing to sacrifice!) but sad that I will be out of commission for a little bit and will have to delay blogging...at least temporarily...although I am prepared to "hunt and peck" if I just can't wait any longer!

Happy Wednesday

I love Wednesdays. As a school aged child it marked the middle of the week and the hope of the weekend approaching.

As an adult who is working part-time, it marks the end of my work week and the beginning of a long weekend.

As an avid "Lost" viewer, it marks the beginning of a whole new season of weird stories and intrigue.

Early Morning Coffee with God

It's early morning, again. Another middle of the night wake-up call. Unfortunately, this is not unfamiliar. I guess what others might call insomnia or perhaps too much caffeine during the day is something I have come to recognize as morning conversations with God. It is not unusual for God to 'call me' during the night. ( I fear I just lost a good percentage of you on the grounds that you have concluded I'm a total loon! Hang in there with me...) Some of His most profound work in me has happened during the wee morning hours as others sleep. Evidently this must be the time I'm most still and I can hear Him the loudest! It isn't as if some kind of trumpet goes off in my head or an alarm with the sound of harps suddenly plays. No, it is just a sudden awakening (literally). I'll be sleeping soundly and then, I'm awake. Very awake--we're talking alert and feeling fully rested--awake!

There is another side to these early morning risings. I've recognized that the Holy Spirit is not the only spirit working at this time of day. I have had early morning assaults from the enemy as well. This can be prime time for him to weasel his way into my mind and stir things up while my defenses are down and my armor is stowed for the night. I try to be diligent about praying for protection over my mind at night...But sometimes I forget.

This morning I woke up with my heart pounding and a sensation of fear overwhelming me. Hmm, I knew where this is coming from. I wish I could tell you that I immediately began praying and seeking the Lord's protection and peace, but no, my first thoughts were, "Oh, great, I'm going to be so tired in the morning and dragging through work all day." Then, I began giving attention to these feelings of fear and worry that were blanketing my mind. Logically, as I thought through all of the things happening in my life right now, I thought to myself, "I have reason to be concerned, or worried, even fearful. So many things are out of my control. There are so many 'what ifs' right now and at any given time I might just go over the edge!"

As I continued laying there, pondering, I began talking to God about these things. Primarily, selfishly, I first asked that He would just help me go back to sleep. Nope, that wasn't happening. Okay, then 'how about just quieting my mind and my spirit so I can drift off and stop thinking about things?' Nope. And then, a single word was impressed on my brain.

Faith.

"UGH! Not faith! UGH again! Okay, Lord, so you're telling me that this will require something of me? More work? I'm tired of working at life!"

Well, needless to say, the impulses in my brain began firing, bringing me to this point of being fully awake at 4 in the morning, knowing my alarm will be going off in about two hours to mark the start of my day. But, I can't shake this prompting that I think God wants me to share this with all of you. Perhaps it will be an encouragement to some, or a reminder, or an assurance.

After that singular word was in my mind, it was quickly followed up with the scripture that says, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." (Hebrews 11:1 (I had to look up the reference...that was not impressed upon me!) Then immediately after that, a second passage came, one that we're probably familiar with:

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds,
because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.
Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete,
not lacking anything." (James 1:2-4)

What the Lord showed me is this. We are called to walk by faith all the time. Not just when things make sense, or look like they'll 'work out', or especially when we can have a hand in the outcome and contribute to the results. All those "what ifs" are prime candidates for faith.

And living by faith isn't wishy-washy. It isn't conditional. When He uses words like "sure" and "certain" this requires my wholehearted conviction, my intimate understanding of who He is. Do I really believe God is who he says He is? Do I believe everything He says is true? Do I really mean it that He is Lord of my life? Do I trust Him? Can and will the Holy Spirit really guide me and show me where to go?

I don't just "have" faith. (Maybe those who have faith as their spiritual gifting do just have it?) For me, it's work. It's an action, a decision which requires exercise and discipline. Living by faith is a daily, moment by moment choice. I can choose to believe God's written word is relevant, alive and real, and I can choose to see God's obvious work and continued faithfulness in my life as reasons to continue having faith; Or I can choose to think that this time the giant is a few inches too tall, the sea is too large to part, and the stone is too heavy to roll away.

Having joy in all the stuff of life is a challenge. I struggle with it. At times it is hard not to feel overwhelmed. But "joy" is not an emotional, 'boy this feels great', or a coerced, 'I'd-better- be-joyful-in-this-or-else-I'll-have-to-repeat-this-lesson' state of mind. Again, joy is a choice and takes work. Like faith, joy requires conviction. It is intentionally trusting, having faith, that God is at work even in the midst of all the hard things of life. This is our hope. A "knowing" that brings peace and stability when our footing is so unsure. I can be glad--have "joy"--because it is in those circumstances when my faith is being stretched and I feel like I'm gong where 'no man (woman) has gone before'; when I choose to believe what He says is real and true; when I am certain and sure of who He is--It is through these "trials" that I know Him more deeply, more personally and am that much more sure of who He is, that much more certain of what He is able to do and that much better equipped to handle the next round of "life" that comes my way.

So, in these early Monday morning hours, I may not feel joyful, and there may be a lot of circumstances telling me that "life" is difficult and worthy of worry and fear, but I'm going to choose faith. I'm choosing to consider my trials a joyful thing because I am certain my Lord is actively at work in the midst of them. I'm sure He's mindful of every circumstance and is asking me to trust Him. He wants to show me more of His amazing power, and grow me toward real life in Him that is not defined by my circumstances. He cares about me, (and you) intimately and couldn't wait until daylight to tell me so!

Cherub Faces

My son's alarm was blaring, marking the beginning of another high school day, but he was still sleeping soundly. As I went into his room to turn off the alarm and make sure he was waking up, I took a moment to look at his face. I was reminded of the same sweet face that would greet me in the early mornings when he was an infant--those baby days when he had the sweetest, roundest cherub face, rosey lips and pink cheeks that begged to be kissed.

A scene from the movie "Hook"comes to mind. Peter had returned to Neverland but the lost boys didn't recognize him because he had aged. One boy places his hands on Peter's face and pulls the skin tight, revealing a youthful looking Pan. Gazing into Peter's eyes, the boy exclaims, "Oh, there you are, Peter!" I feel that same sensation as I look past the facial hair stubble and the defined, strong features of my son's face. Gazing beyond the manly features, and pulling back the years, I think, "oh, there you are my sweet boy."

In this moment just before the day begins, I still see that cherub face now disguised as a young adult. Oh, thank you for the joys of cherub faces still greeting me in the morning.

Duck, Duck, Odd Duck--Part 4: Conclusions

I've always had a strong dislike of personality tests, or inventories, or skills tests, or whatever you want to call them. It is part of my rebellious streak that resists the idea of being "evaluated". The idea that some "professional" or statistician with a series of numbers and traits corresponding to the quantity of responses given to the affirmative, which fall within the median scope of the general populous, which when factoring in the control number of x and.....

You get the idea. I'm me. How can someone I've never met, who hasn't talked to me and knows nothing about me, tell me what my personality traits are, or what my strengths are? There is something so...impersonal...about it. I tend to want to discuss the questions--and my answers to those questions--with the test itself! For example, I may pose the question, 'so what are the circimstances I'm faced with in this particular scenario? Is this before or after I had children? Why do I have to pick just one color? Don't you know that combining colors is much more appealing to the eye?' and on and on. And then of course, I want the opportunity to give explanation to my answers.

Oddly enough a "personality test" was just the tool that the Lord used to set me on the path to knowing myself better and continuing to free me from the grips of the odd duck. I went to a women's retreat from church early on in my process. "Coincidentally" the speaker had all the attendees take a Meiers-Briggs Personality Inventory. I was actually intrigued. Her goal for the weekend was that we would know ourselves better and know one another better as well--appreciating the similarities, and loving the differences. My results for the inventory didn't tell me anything I didn't know, but rather it confirmed what I knew to be true of myself-- which somehow strengthened me. My "type" was right there in black and white. 'I'm a type'! Wow! I found new appreciation of who I was, and my appreciation for the inventory grew a wee bit. Maybe these personality test aren't all that bad afterall.

Next, the speaker had us get into groups by "type". She had us make some observations. Looking around the room, what was most noticeable to all the groups, including my fellow "group-ies" and me, was that "our" group contained the least amount of people! We were feeling quite "elite". Our group was comprised of intuitive types who were much more interpersonally motivated, creative, unstructured and visionaries at heart. We were the "what if" gals. "Possibilities" would make us salivate. The largest group was made up of women who were almost our complete opposites. Hmmm.

It got more interesting. The speaker noted that this is a fair representation of what our churches look like in their makeup of personalities. The largest group represented in "the church" is the one that is more outspoken and thinks their view of things is the "right" one; they are more task oriented, more administrative or up front leaders and systematic in thinking. She pointed out the obvious imbalance, noting that all the "groups" of personalities need each other. We balance each other out, and all are key elements in the running and operating of a church and it's ministries. But, unfortunately, churches tend to utulize only the predominate or largest group "type" and can overlook the smaller group and their strengths, not utilizing a group that could be a real asset to the church. (I'll do a blog all about this at some point. I have a lot of "feelings" about this!)

Aahh, another light bulb moment. I realized this is where a lot of self-doubt developed in me, especially as it pertained to being a member of a church. For too long I had listened to others who weren't my personality type, who functioned totally different than I did, tell me what was what--what my gifts were, what my abilities were, what acts of service I would best be suited for, etc. I didn't trust myself to know these things inherently. When my "gut" didn't agree with what they were saying, or intuitively I was getting all the wrong "vibes" from this person, I would shut those signals off, and give credence to what they were saying because, afterall, they had the majority on their side and had a consensus. On occasion, I will lapse into this sensation of odd duck-ness at church. "It" is still lurking, and I still have those times of feeling out of place or on the fringe. I'm convinced my "type" is still a minority in the church, but I remind myself that it isn't always true that those that quack the loudest are always right. I'm much more interested in being obedient to the Lord, than falling in line with the majority. Sometimes they coincide, and other times they don't. If anything, that feeling of being an odd-duck has strengthened my resolve to stay focused on what God is doing and listen to Him only.

So, this inventory was the first that I felt validated in who I was. I just felt so affirmed in that who I was, was okay. God did create me with a purpose and a plan. He didn't make a mistake in creating me after all. And all those intuitive things going on are real...I'm not a mental case...at least not most of the time! That gut feeling I get...that's the Holy Spirit getting my attention. It's all part of my make up and I don't have to apologize for that.

Throughout the years I've continued "assessing" myself, getting to know me better. Most recently I just finished the popular "Living your Strengths" inventory. Again, not surprised by the results, but affirmed and encouraged to use those strengths to glorify God.

Things I've learned about being an Odd Duck:
* At times I'm confronted by those old odd duck feelings, but they only have as much power as I allow them to have. I'm no longer paralyzed by them.
* It is important to always stand in truth. God's truth; truth about my weaknesses and strengths; truth about unconfessed sin in my life; truth about things I need to be repentant of.
* I am in process and always will be. I will never "arrive". There is great freedom in that. It lessens the tendancy to "perform", and allows me to be forgiving towards myself.
* Being created in the image of God, I find great comfort in knowing that God understands me. I can be 'fully me' with God and I don't have to explain everything. He "gets" me.
* Only God's opinion of me matters. He is the only one I want to please and in focusing on him, I am freed up to love others much more freely.
* God can continue to make me into whomever he wishes. He can develop any trait, gifting, strength or ability and use it as he sees fit as I surrender myself to Him daily. He can be glorified just by me being fully me, being fully reliant on Him.
* There will always be someone or some group wanting to put me in a nice neat little box with a bow, or they will tell me I must color inside the lines if I'm going to do it right. I know I don't have to be boxed, or color just like them; but I can also be gracious in declining 'box-dom' and coloring lessons understanding that others are in process also.
*And finally, I remember God doesn't live in a box and He colors outside of the lines.

How Are You?

Just wanted to pass this on. I just returned home a short time ago from doing some grocery shopping. I walked up to the check out line. After placing my items on the conveyor belt, I walked up next to the checker. He seemed pleasant. As he began to scan my items, he smiled and asked the courteous, "How are you today?" I responded with the same customary response of "I'm well. And how are you ?" I asked. The quiet checker responded, "I'm blessed."

I would love to say I had some great spiritual response at this point, but his reply caught me off guard. To say, "oh, yah, me too" would have seemed a little--wrong. I just smiled and didn't say anything but proceeded to pack up my groceries.

When it was time to leave, he sent me on my way with "God bless you." What a bright spot in the afternoon.

So, how are you today?

Saturday Morning Blessings

Wake up. Let the dogs out. Get the coffee brewing. Turn on the dishwasher that I forgot to turn on last night. Let the dogs back in. Feed the dogs. Pour a cup of coffee. Stake claim to the computer. Take in the peace and quiet all around. Start blogging. Aaahhh, Saturday morning is here!

I actually tried to go back to sleep after letting the dogs out this morning. But as I was laying in bed, my mind started churning, the wheels of thoughts were turning (oh, I made a rhyme!). thinking about blogging this morning! So, I gave in!

Blogging has been a wonderful surprise. Such a fun blessing. I'm really enjoying writing. Unlike many of you, my fellow bloggers, I have not aspired to be a writer. Writing is my preferred mode of expression, but usually it is confined to a journal, nothing so public. I always did well in English classes, and I did win an all-city essay writing contest in the 8th grade, writing about "The Environment." (Come to think about it, in the 70's, "the environment" was such a cutting-edge topic...wow, I was a flower child and didn't even know it!) But I've never considered myself to be "a writer."

Another joy about blogging is all the new "friends" that I've made! I've enjoyed the candid "real-ness" as each of you have shared your thoughts, struggles, joys and life with others, including me. What a wonder that I can "talk" to someone in India or Egypt with just a few key strokes. Or encourage someone else just by sharing my story. And then there are those friends located closer to home that I have reconnected with because of blogging. I've so enjoyed our discussions and e-mails.

Sitting here this morning, I've been thinking about all the blessings of the week. Years ago, long before Oprah and her gratitude journal, I began journaling about the blessings in my life. There was a time in my life when I really didn't think God was all that "good" and there was just too much hard stuff all the time. I began training (dare I say, disciplining?) myself to see God's goodness and to be thankful for the blessings in life. It takes work to see the good stuff in life. We all know the hard stuff is there, and SO easily seen, but being conscious of the blessings and joys takes work, but it is necessary to have balance--it keeps me balanced--to pay attention to things and give thanks.

I have not journaled about blessings in some time, but I still look for them and am so thankful. These are some of the blessings of my week, some obvious, some obscure:

* My oldest son told me that he knows he can talk to us (his parents) about anything and he never worries that we'll reject him.

* My second oldest son has discovered singing in the choir at school and photography. He's bursting at the seams with enthusiasm over these new-found creative outlets. (He's 16, these may change next week!)

* My third child, and oldest daughter, is finding some really great friendships and enjoying being a freshman in high school. She is blossoming socially, something that was a trial for her in middle school.

* My youngest daughter went kayaking this week as part of a leadership group field trip from school. She absolutely loved it and conquered some real fears.

* A friend of ours told us he has a new computer for us--one that he "inherited". He had prayed about it and said our family came to mind. (The back story to this is that for quite a while now we have wanted, even needed, a second computer--6 people sharing one computer for homework, home management stuff, e-mail and of course, blogging, has become so cumbersome.--but have never told anyone. Financially it isn't in the budget, so we just kind of let it go.)

* I'm thankful for jobs that provide enough income so that we can eat pretty much anything we want, pay our bills, put gas in the cars, buy school supplies and pay school fees.

* As I turned on our gas fireplace this week to get rid for the morning chill, I was thankful that I could have heat at the flip of a switch.

* I'm thankful for the group of men that my husband Ron meets with every Friday morning. This is a group not from our church, but comprised mostly of fellow UPS guys, multi-denominational, multi I-generational, who have committed to meeting every Friday at 6 am. They really walk the walk, coming alongside one another, praying for one another and encouraging one another as husbands, dads and brothers in Christ. This has been a place where Ron feels, and is, loved and accepted, and such a source of encouragement to him.

* An old friend called this week to let us know that he and his family have just moved back to the area.

* I found out what is wrong with my wrist and have the hope that it can be "fixed" and that I will feel better.

* The joy of music. I love how it gets deep into my insides and moves me, allows me to see the Lord more clearly.

* The Lord said "no" about an area of involvement. I'm thankful that I have some direction, and even though I don't know what I'm going to, I have the peace of knowing what I'm not doing.

God is good. Praise God from whom all blessings flow~

Pins & Needles: A Lesson in Nerve Conduction

Recently I found out that I need to have surgery on my left wrist to repair torn cartilage. I have had on-going pain in my wrist since about April, but it wasn't the same carpal tunnel pain I've experienced. I have also been having increased tingling in my pinky and ring finger on that hand as well and didn't know if this was just part of having torn cartilage, or what was going on. Upon closer examination of the MRI results, a cyst was spotted that is located in such a spot that it is putting pressure on my artery and "ulnar" nerve. (I have also been having "sluggish" blood flow to that side of my hand. (TMI?) "Ah ha!" There really has been something going on, and although I wish there were another way to take care of it, it is nice having the hope that things will be repaired during that day surgery (scheduled for Sept. 29) and I can go on with life as normal, although probably a little slower at "posting" at least for a little while during the recovery process!

Just now I have returned from yet another appointment at the orthopedic doctor's office. This time I met with an associate of his who examines nerve conduction. My doctor, Dr. "Mc" wants to be certain that any nerve issues I have are localized and not coming from another source in my arm. Anyway, I saw Dr. "L" this morning. He was going to determine the condition of my ulnar nerve.

As I walked into the room I saw a lap top computer, some wires, a few little pad type things, a wand-ish looking instrument and gel. Nothing too threatening in appearance. The doctor was very pleasant and answered questions, thoroughly explained what he was looking for, etc. I felt comfortable, even relaxed. He began drawing on my arms with a ball point pen, making "x's", dots, and arrows. He pulled out his tape measure, making note of the distance between different pairs of markings, and then began to explain the procedure.

Now, of course I know our bodies conduct electricity and that our muscles and nerves send electrical impulses to one another. But somehow, I hadn't really thought through the whole test process and that electricity would be involved. Boy, was I in for a "shock" (pun intended).

That "wand" instrument....it is used to send an electrical current through points along the nerves that make your fingers, arms and body twitch. As if to make things seem not so bad, he likened the impulse to that of a "carpet shock" or static electricity. And I'm thinking, "who likes that?" He continued to hook me up with little "conductors" along my arms, my hand and wrist. On comes the laptop and then those words, "Okay, you'll have a little twitching in your fingers and it might feel a little strange." That was doctor-ese for 'there is no way to make this seem pleasant so I'll just lie'. I would have to say that the "impulses" did deliver a surprise like a carpet shock, but not of the same intensity...they were worse! Thankfully, Dr. L could adjust the intensity and did so from time to time, so there were only a few that really made me gasp and jerk all over. (Pleasant image, I know!)

Oh, did I mention the "small pin" that was also part of the procedure? This was mentioned almost like an after thought. "I will also use a small pin just to take a reading of some of the muscle activity." Okay, this was a needle...not a pin. (More of that doctor-ese.) It was painful when inserted just under the skin of my thumbs and pinky finger. As he mentioned, the hands are probably one of the most sensitive parts of our bodies with more nerve endings than most everywhere else. I could tell that was true! He used this "pin" on my upper arm and I really did barely feel it. Hardly any sensation...but as he worked his way down my forearm, then my wrist and then to my palm, the pain sensation increased. The "cool" thing about this probe, is that he could "listen" to my muscles. I could see the muscle impulses on the computer screen, but there was an audible noise my muscles were making as I moved my fingers and clutched my fist. How can this be?

Laying there, I began to talk to Dr. L about how we're made and how amazing all this is. I don't know if he is a believer or not, but I was struck with the sense that he never gets tired of this...seeing how things work...figuring out why things don't connect right, etc. I said something about how we're so intricately designed and that having tests like this just helps me appreciate it more all the time. He joined in with agreement, echoing that we have been designed and created so marvelously. It was just such a nice moment, appreciating science and technology, but acknowledging and appreciating the real wonder of how we're created.

Driving home just now, I was just kind of awe-struck. Reflecting on the examination, I was appreciating my nerves, my muscles, even that I can feel pain or discomfort-- (However, I still don't like electrical impulses.)--and so thankful for the intricacies of the human body.

That was my morning...now I get to go have lunch with my dear friend...after I clean off all the ball point pen markings.

Duck, Duck, Odd Duck--Part 3: And the Truth Shall Set You Free

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you," declares the Lord, "and will bring you back from captivity." Jeremiah 29:11-14

I can vividly remember those days, weeks, years when God began to change my life and I stepped into freedom. God broke down the box I had lived in and reshaped my life.

I became a Believer when I was a small child. I believed then and still do now, that we all sin, and that Christ died for me and paid the penalty for my sin with the giving of His life. I believed then and still do now, whole-heartedly, that the Bible is God's word to us, that this is truth and undeniably real. Although I professed this belief as a child and into my early adult years and gained all the knowledge possible through theology classes, Bible study, Christian Ministries major in college and years of involvement in leadership at church, there was a part of my life that I didn't--wouldn't--let this "knowledge" penetrate. I had great head-knowledge of truth, but there was a disconnect with my heart--my inner most being.

In those early years of marriage and parenting, life was seemingly "normal". I told myself I was content, although honestly, I was not satisfied and our relationship was not thriving. There were some tell tale signs, little inklings, that all was not well in my household, but there wasn't anything definite, nothing I could put my finger on. Just an underlying feeling of being unsettled, an "angst" of sorts. I just chalked it up to the stage of life we were in, busy parenting 4 young children. I had found a complacency that seemed to make things work. I was coping.

We all have "coping skills" that kick in when we feel threatened or want to self-protect. These compulsions bring a calming, familiar presence to something or give us a false sense of control to the uncontrollable. I'm not saying they're healthy, but they are part of our make-up. For some these compulsions might be the need to always be cleaning, or over exercising, being a work-a-holic, or having an addiction of some sorts, perhaps overeating, sleeping...the list goes on.

My compulsion was working harder--working harder at being a good wife and mother. I figured that any problems or dissatisfaction I was having in my marriage must be my fault since my husband seemed happy. (As a side note, the "truth" came out later and of course I found this to not be the case.) My self-"odd duck"-talk resurfaced and I soon turned on myself with comparisons to others and disgust that I couldn't be "perfect" or that I was lacking in too many areas. My view of the world at that time, was that everyone else had life figured out (which a number of them did) and I didn't...therefore, I needed to work harder at "getting it"...Whatever "it" was. So, I just kept working harder at being the 'godly' wife, the 'perfect' Mom by reading all the 'How-to-be-the-best-Mom-ever' books, ever clutching tighter to the only security I thought I had--my little family--and convincing myself that eventually I would have that inner peace, that calm inside my spirit. I kept busy in activities at church, involvement in organizations, etc. that helped distract me enough to numb the internal pain I was in.

But things continued to spiral out of control...out of my control. Oh, I put up a good front at church, but I didn't dare let others know what was really happening in my 'real' life; my marriage was on the brink of dissolution (which I know we were both responsible for); I was depressed; and that ever-increasing self- talk was more accusatory and loathing all the time. Finally, through a series of events, I "hit bottom", and came face to face with the denial I had been in. I finally admitted to myself that the very thing that I had placed my identity and security in (being a wife and mom)had betrayed me and I was losing everything. I couldn't do it anymore...everything was beyond my control...beyond myself.

I had to look at myself and what I really believed. I was not only in a crisis in my marriage, but at a crisis point in my faith. One day I wrote in my journal something like 'if I lose everything, do I still believe God is enough?' What did I really believe? And if I proclaim Christ as Lord of my life, what does that really mean? How do I walk by faith? What is that, really? I also was finally honest with God, admitting, verbally, that I thought he had made a mistake when he created me. I was a screw up, a total loser...what possible good could come out of me? What WAS He thinking?

Laying in bed that November morning over 12 years ago, I was crying, pleading with the Lord just to get me through the day. Everything seemed unbearable. Much too heavy. Too much to endure. I accused Him, questioned Him about this spiritual journey, "Surely there is more to it (the Christian life) than this! What about your promises that you came to give life that we might have it more abundant? What does that mean?" I asked Him to make sense of things and guide me through this. "I can't do this anymore!" And then came those words so clearly impressed upon my spirit...undeniably Him speaking to me. "Cheryl, that's why you need to know I love you."

Crying, I admitted to Him that I didn't know what that meant. I had tried so hard to understand, but I didn't know, I didn't believe all that he had said about me...that I was fearfully and wonderfully made. I asked Him to guide me through that. This was the beginning of the process of really letting TRUTH get into all the crevices of my being--the process of becoming a real believer and choosing to believe all truth and not just some of it. (If I am to be a wholehearted follower of Christ, then I cannot pick and chose what His truth is...I either accept everything He says as Truth, or none of it is. This doesn't mean I can't ask Him questions about it or try to understand it better...but it is up to me to receive it or not.)

It is difficult to explain how a lot of the healing process happened, other than to say it truly was a super-natural experience; only one that could have happened on a spiritual level. Don't get me wrong, there were some counseling sessions in there, lots of journaling, tears, anger, etc. But it was all orchestrated and directed by the Lord. This is the wonder and mystery of God. We want so desperately to have a hand in our own redemption, but really it is surrendering to God and asking Him where we are getting in the way, and asking Him what He wants to do. We either choose to be responsive to what He shows us, or we're not. We are obedient, or we're not.

I was convicted of sin in my life--the unconfessed sin of poor self-esteem and unbelief. You see, I didn't believe God at His word--but in fact I had been disagreeing with him that what he created and said was 'very good', I was saying was not good and that he had made a mistake. Regardless of what my upbringing was like, or what emotional injuries I may have had as a child or young adult, I was responsible for what I believed. I either chose to believe what others had said, or believed what God said. I could choose to hold onto hurts and injuries, or trust God and hold onto Him and believe His promises that He makes all things new. The light- bulb-moment was when I recognized that I was not truly being a follower of Christ! Somehow, I could believe as truth the death and resurrection of Christ for my salvation, but I was choosing to not believe other parts of scripture where He talks about me being his beloved child. This confession and repentance was a turning point in the "odd duck" syndrome and the healing process began.

In reflection, healing is scary and not for the faint of heart. Healing denotes that some kind of injury or damage has occurred...or in this case, surgery was performed. Low self-esteem or other such sin is a lot like cancer. It is subtle, quiet and invasive. It is also one of those sins that is somewhat "acceptable", especially for women, so early detection does not always happen. Like a cancer, surgery needs to be performed to remove every cancerous cell, to eradicate its presence. The surgery can leave scars that are a reminder of the journey, but they can lead to a life of wholeness, and freedom from cancer. Spiritual surgery is much the same. There may be scars left as reminders of what we have been saved from, but they are also reminders of what we have been saved to. And, they can be used to give hope to others who may be inflicted by the same cancer.

I would have to say that any scars I have are a reminder of the blessing of freedom that I daily experience: freedom from myself; freedom to love myself as God loves me and to be patient with me as I'm on this journey; freedom from the "shoulds" of the world; freedom to have a life of adventure with God as I continue to learn to trust Him more deeply, lean on Him more intently and know him more personally; freedom to not be self-reliant, but God reliant; freedom to not hold onto the superficial things of life for security, but to let go; freedom to firmly grasp His hand and hold on for dear life.

Truth has set me free.

Coming up next: Conclusion to the Odd Duck.

A Gray Hair Day

As I sit here blogging, I'm waiting for time to pass as I have just put brown hair coloring on my gray "sideburns". I'll confess, this is a ritual I do from time to time. For someone quickly approaching 47, I've been told I am very fortunate to have so few "grays". However, I am discovering that the grays I do have like to congregate in particular spots, most noticeable at my "sideburn" area. I have dark brown hair, but right at my temples, next to my ears, is an ever increasing patch of white! So, from time to time, I dab on a little Medium Brown permanent touch up to cover the white and blend in with the rest of my hair.

Just now, as I was staring in the mirror, looking at the increasing strands of white and glancing down to my eyes that look tired and creased today, I again encountered that twinge...that one that happens from time to time...when reality grips me and I really see that I'm aging. What an odd thing it is. I feel so much like me on the inside--not old or aging, but rather feeling wiser and more discerning--but the outside is becoming a stranger. Who IS that in the mirror? When I was thirty-something, I really had planned to gracefully embrace the wrinkles and the graying tresses, but now, living in it, I'm not liking it so much!

Well, gotta go...time to rinse out those grays! Okay, so for another 6 weeks, I'll still live in a little bit of denial!

Duck, Duck, Odd Duck Part 2: Where's the Label-Maker?

Early on, I became aware of "labels." This is the process of evaluating and subsequently ascribing an attribute (positive or negative) to someone in order to put them in a nice neat little box so one will know how to better relate to--or avoid--said person. We (family, friends, church members, etc.) do it to each other all the time.

It was not any different when I was younger. For example, growing up, my oldest sister, "J" was the 'smart one', 'the dancer', 'first born'; My second oldest sister "B" who was petite, was the 'pretty one', and 'special' in the youth department at church. (Our youth pastor and his wife named their daughter after "B" because they thought so highly of her.)

Then there was me. Hmmm....who or what was I? I don't recall any labels given to me. Even though I was always a great student, creative, and active in church, I was never labeled "smart" or "special" by my family or church, and I will admit those teen years were awkward in the appearance department, complete with braces so "pretty" was never a tag attached to my name.

The little odd duck inside of me had lots of fodder to dine on in my young adult years. Outwardly I had learned to play the game and worked hard to blend in, but inwardly, I struggled greatly. Truth is, I knew as a follower of Christ that I should believe that God created me 'fearfully and wonderfully' (see Psalm 139), but honestly, I couldn't figure out what that really meant. I didn't seem to "fit" in any box with the world, or at church, or even be worthy of a label.

Being away from home and in an entirely new environment for college helped somewhat. I carved out my own little identity and life, but still struggled with great feelings of inadequacies and insecurities. I did receive the label of "nice" which in all actuallity is not really all that complimentary. It's one of those terms people use when they don't really know you at all and are at a loss for a descriptive tag. Even the worst of criminals gets this label from their neighbors who, when interviewed, make comments like, 'I would never have suspected it! He seemed like such a nice guy' .

After college I married my dear husband, then became a mother. For a while, this helped quiet the quacking of the odd duck within. That feeling of paralysis--the inability to head in any direction emotionally or spiritually--subsided as I busied myself in an identity, a role, that seemed very acceptable to the outside world and even esteemed in the church. The physical, mental and emotional exhaustion of giving birth to and caring for 4 children all within a 6 year time span allowed me an "out" for not dealing with my issues deep inside of me. The busy-ness of life kept my feelings of inferiority and angst at bay for some time, but the depth of my relationship with God was pretty shallow as well. I really didn't believe in the deepest parts of my spirit what scripture said about me. I relied on my circumstances to give me that peace, that sense of belonging and identity.

All was "ducky" in my little domesticated, labeled box for about 10 years until God decided it was time to do some recycling...

Stay tuned...

Turning Into a Man Right Before My Eyes

This post is merely a post of praise--public declaration of God's faithfulness, His goodness and steadfastness, and public declaration of my love and admiration for my son who stepped into manhood this week.

The past couple of weeks have been difficult. I don't want to go into details, can't go into details....But it has been hard...really emotionally difficult. But God heard our cries for help, our pleadings for direction and discernment, our longing to hear Him clearly and directly. He led us through the murky waters, through the tears, and he allowed my husband and me to see our son in a whole new way--as an adult.

Our son had to do some very "grown up" things this week and he was not faint of heart. But "Roo" rose to the task, placed another stake in the ground affirming his faith, and extended grace and compassion in a way that those older in age and faith would struggle to do. I cry just thinking about it. I have never been more proud. What a wonder that this man was my baby boy. We're so blessed and God is so good.

Jesus, Thank you for hearing our pleas, for holding our hands, for sheltering us in the storms, for allowing us to come to you without all the right words and in fact no words at all, but just tears and brokeness. Thank you for making your presence known in the midst of all the junk...that we aren't alone and that you're mindful of us. Thank you for keeping your word. Thank you for being a constant. Thank you for the joy and privilege of being "Roo's" parents. Please continue to shape and grow our dear son, hold him close. You are good!

Duck, Duck, Odd Duck -- Part 1

As the scene unfolds, we see a group of children gathered in a circle playing "Duck, Duck, Goose." Suddenly, I realize that I am a part of this group. I see a pretty, bright girl stand up and begin dancing around the circle rhythmically tapping the heads of the children as she works her way around the circle, chanting, "duck, duck, duck....", getting closer to me I anticipate hearing, "goose" as my cue to stand up and start running in the opposite direction. 'Here she comes!' "Duck, duck...," 'My turn'! As she places her hand atop my head, ready to hear "goose", I hear "odd duck." I'm paralyzed, I can't even get up and run in the opposite direction. What direction do I go? No one told me the rules to this game. How does this game play out?

No, this didn't really happen to me, but it does sound like a bad dream. Most of my life I have felt like an odd duck. I used to feel paralyzed by it, not knowing where I fit in, or how to fit in; but in the past 10 years,I have been continually freed up from this paralysis, understanding more who God created me to be, my "bent", my passions, and that it is okay to not fit in! I'm experiencing increasing freedom in Christ. Interestingly enough, my friend Paula mentions this same idea in her posting this week, 'feeling comfortable in our own skin'. As I talk to more and more women, I'm finding that there are many of us 'odd ducks'. Why is that? Why does it take us so long to just be who we are and not care what others think?--and know that we're okay!

Oddly enough I have found that it is easier to be who God created me to be out in "the world" rather than in "the church", which is so opposite of how it should be. Please don't hear me as saying I have a gripe with my church, or church in general. I'm not speaking of one church in particular but rather relating my perspective and my experiences growing up, attending church regularly and continuing that on into adulthood.

I realize my early negative experiences in church were shaped by other believers who were not genuine (and riddled with insecurities themselves) and a church culture that was prone to legalism and not the message of grace. The church we attended at that time had many affluent members. It was not a community church, but rather a "commuter" church. The church building was in a very poor neighborhood, yet I don't know that anyone from the neighborhood attended! Rather, people from all over the city attended this church, many who were 'power people' in the city, and in the denomination. My family also came from outside of this community, but we were not among the affluent. We were very typically middle class, but attended there because my father's family had attended there since he was a boy.

On a couple of occasions, I can remember one girl, who was a doctor's daughter, (my father was an electrician) making comments to me about my family and the area of the city we lived. I had never thought we were different from other church families, until she made an issue of it. This girl also had new outfits to wear all the time, and was very fashion-conscious, as her mother was very mindful of outward appearances. My family was much more casual and the focus on being fashionable and "up-to-date" in our clothing was not a glaring priority. We were happy having good, clean clothes! Even the fact that we didn't attend church on Sunday nights was pointed out to me. I guess we missed the memo that stated you got extra points with God if you attended on Sunday night!

I know now, as an adult, that children can be cruel, but those things that were said to me as a child were always tucked away in my little mental closet. From time to time they would peek out and I would give them some attention and wonder if somehow, my family really was messed up and I was really a loser and didn't know it! In my teen years when my parents were divorcing and my father died, I felt that to some extent this girl was right. My family was messed up and I was a loser. Oh, I just remembered one other instance of mental pain inflicted by this girl. Her father died from a brain tumor two years after my father died. I was compelled to give her some comfort and empathy since I also had gone through the experience of losing my father. She pointed out at that time that it was 'different' though, because her dad was a great dad and really respected at church, not like my dad who was divorcing my mother and had left the church. OUCH! I'll confess I decided to write her off at that point, but it was too late, the little odd-duckling had already hatched!

To be continued.....