Monthly Archives: May 2015

Ahhhhh…

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Jesus loves me this I know. Ahhhh….Jesus loves me even when I’m grouchy, unthankful, smart-alecky, misunderstood, forgettable, unforgettable in a bad way, moody, ugly, icky, stupid, boring, lacking, left-out, alone, stressed, worn out, exhausted, discouraged, unbelievable, loud, cowardly, messy, unprofessional, blah, bluh, bleh, critical, judgmental, unsatisfied, sarcastic, disgruntled, misled, unforgiving, atrocious, scared, melancholy, mediocre, messed-up, ill-tempered, mad, sad, overwhelmed. Jesus loves me. If I know nothing else, I know this…and that is everything.

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Breathe

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As it turns out, you can give up some things in your life and still not grow any closer to God without an honest effort. I have been off Facebook for 18 days now, (not that I’m counting, I just noticed the date…I truly haven’t missed the noise of everyone else’s random thoughts.) and just realized I’ve spent only some, and by some I mean a few hours, if that, with God. Quiet, peaceful, beautiful, serene, let’s-hear-from-God-time. Without that determined effort, it doesn’t matter what’s going on in your life, there will always be yet another distraction that can take the place of quality time with the Creator.

I’ve been trying to breathe. Literally and figuratively. I get to a point where it’s easier not to breathe. My body sometimes thinks it takes too much energy and effort. So I just stop for a bit. A few seconds as if to allow my body time to catch up. I just stop. And the world doesn’t. It continues. There is no medical team rushing in as a machine beeps, there’s no concerned loved ones thwacking me, it’s just me and God. And a reminder that I will live the abundant life and that His promises are forever true and always there. My prayer today is for those who don’t feel like they can go on, who feel like they can’t do enough. Maybe not breathing isn’t the answer, in fact, I’m almost sure it isn’t, but taking the time to breathe in and out and just knowing that the God Who created you loves you, is the answer. Search no more, child, here He is. In your midst, all-knowing and ever-faithful.

 

His True Colors Are Mine

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I won’t give in and I won’t back down. I’ll show my true colors in not showing them. Sometimes it’s an act and sometimes it’s who we truly are. It’s not so much that we don’t believe what we are capable of, we just don’t want to do the work. It’s a whole lot easier to just sit back and decide some dreams will just never happen. “It’s just not for us” is what we tell ourselves when in reality it’s because we’re not willing to do the work. If we truly believe that we were created for a higher purpose and an important calling in our lives, then its more work than we ever thought we were capable of. We need more God than what we ever planned. And that pesky “h-word” rears it’s head. We need more help than we’re willing to admit. We can’t do it on her own. There. I said it. We don’t see the vision unless we realize that we are not capable. We believe because He believes. We have to know that we are the same person that God knows we are. The pain, the tears, the agony that we endure sometimes isn’t to show us how strong we are. It isn’t to convince us that we can do it. It’s to convince us that we are weak and that we need him to do absolutely anything. That without Him, there is no us. Without Him, we can’t be anything. Without Him, there is no chance, no way, and no motivation for us. It’s all for His glory and it’s all in His name that we’re able to do anything

From 3 to 17 Years Old

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So here I sit. I want to be lying on the couch, watching old episodes of Grey’s Anatomy, feeling guilty about watching Grey’s Anatomy, but here I sit. I’m a wallower at times. This is what I’m learning. I like to wallow in my “sorrow” whatever it may be and some days, I’ll make it up. The postman will give me “a look” or a passerby won’t smile and I’ll stomp like a 3 year old in my mind and give a “HMMMMPH!” in true, snotty princess fashion. Then I dwell. I dwell there like it’s my couch when Grey’s Anatomy is on. (I literally just started watching this show less than 2 months ago and like any good nighttime soap opera, it sucked me in.) In true fleshy, human fashion, I like to dwell and mentally rehearse situations over and over ad nauseum in my head until I can’t possibly stand to think about it anymore for at least 14 days. I’ve also been in some sort of revert pattern where I block out anything that I should do and blatantly choose to do something I want to do instead. I wonder if it’s a mom thing. For instance, instead of buying toilet paper, I buy a new lipstick. (Ok, that’s an exaggeration. I already have lipstick.) I rebel against myself. It’s not helpful to my, oh say, life. I find myself behaving like a 17-year-old, shrugging my shoulders, shaking my head, upper lip jutted more than Jagger’s, stating defiantly, “I don’t have to do that. There’s no way I’m gonna do that.” It’s all-encompassing and selfish and I am resentful. I don’t get to live the life I want right now. I get tired. And I hurt. And I don’t get to do everything I want to do. I don’t even have the energy at times to stomp like that 3 year old. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but maybe, on some level it will help someone. Sometimes you feel like you’re in the boat alone, but in reality, it’s a packed cruise liner. I’ve gotta be really honest and say I hope it does, but I don’t care if it doesn’t. (It’s my blog and I get to make it about me whenever I want.) God’s bringing me through some stuff. I don’t really want to learn anything new right now. I’m fighting him the whole way at this point. I wanna get sucked in to McDreamy’s next surgery and Korev’s childhood issues instead of dealing with my own.  And truly, something in my heart just got set free. I think maybe because I was honest with myself about my own idiotic, scowling selfishness. I gave it a name as I heard a therapist, possibly on Grey’s Anatomy say. Maybe now I get to shake it off. Day 6 of God30 and I might be on my way to enlightenment. The 17-year-old who seems to be living inside me gives a sarcastic eye roll.

Wish I Had Time To Write

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Man I wish I had time to write. My teachers and parents succeeded, I guess, in instilling the importance of reading and writing. I can’t get enough. If I had a week, I’d lay/sit around, reading and writing. Waiting for the breath of God to flow down and rejuvenate. There is nothing greater than the presence of God. And by Tuesday, I’ve forgotten what it feels like. Sunday was amazingly great, worshipping with 100s of fellow believers, Monday was reality when schedules change and nothing is as planned, and Tuesday is begging for a refresher in God 101. So as I sit typing like a madwoman before my kids discover I’m in the den, I ask God to come down and renew me in the next 3 minutes, as that’s how much Curious George is left. I have dishes to wash, clothes to clean, and training to do. I have work and plans and dinner to fix. I have money to make and lives to change and I don’t have time to not have any God. I’m doing my best to ignore any symptoms that inevitably come up. I’m trying my best to let go of hurts that people have caused because I know this is not conducive to healing. The mercy we show others is the direct line of mercy we will be shown. I feel like I need my brain replaced some days, to erase what I don’t want and to start fresh. While typing that I think of the guy on 50 First Dates in the institution who introduces himself every few seconds…I’m pretty sure that’s not a good plan either. How do we get into the presence of God when the busy-ness of life consumes?

Undeniably Shaky Confidence

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Romans 10:10 It is with the heart man believes. Unshakeable faith. Unshakeable confidence in the Most High God. Is my faith and my confidence in God unshakeable? I don’t feel like it is and lemme tell ya why…since you’re such a captive audience. (Are you still reading?) I believe God can heal me. I believe He spoke to a family member and told her to tell me that I was healed of this disease. (uh-oh…lost a reader or two. I once heard that you can talk to God, but if you hear God talk to you, you’re considered crazy. Guilty.) I believe He can. I can even go as far as to say, He has. He has healed me. By His stripes, we were healed. Of anything. Cancer, chronic anything, pain, acne, anything that has a name and some that don’t. He healed us of it. I believe that. Where my confidence gets a little shaky and my ugly, rebel side rears up is the “manifestation” of my healing. I had no idea what that meant a few years ago when someone said, “It’s the manifestation of your healing that you’re waiting on.” OH. It’s all so clear to me now. Because in my head, those two things are one and the same. If I am healed, there are no more symptoms. If healing has manifested itself (see? Once you learn a new word, you can add different suffixes), there isn’t pain, fatigue, dizziness, etc. So I sit here, after years of believing I’m healed of this, with my heart…it’s way harder to believe it with my head and the eyeballs He gave me, and seeing minimal difference. Given, I am no longer in a SBR (*if you don’t know what this is, see previous post) but quite honestly, if I began to work as much as I wanted to, I’d be right back there. Every day I work, I have migraines, dizziness, fatigue, muscle pain, yadda yadda yadda. So, I’m healed. Huh. I feel as though I’d have to go to a completely different ball field to catch this on