Dependence Does Not Equal Weakness

This post has been on my heart for a little over a month now.  I keep coming back to it, tweaking it, adding to it, and praying about what I am supposed to say.  Very rarely do things get deleted, but things just seem to keep being added.  I am hopeful an encouraging message will finally be posted today.

For most of my life I have been described as strong-willed, independent, hard-headed, and just a tad bit stubborn.  In my teenage years, I loved a good "debate."  I viewed people that needed things as weak, or soft, definitely not something I viewed as positive.  I never thought about circumstances causing a person to feel weak on the inside, but look incredibly strong to everyone else. 

The last ten years of my life have worn me down, caused me pain, and broken me from the inside out.  I have learned that the life you planned isn't guaranteed, happiness is not determined by what others do for you, and that independence is wildly overrated.  I have learned that to be strong doesn't mean winning, nor does being dependent mean you aren't strong. 

Although I married altogether way too young, I learned some of my most important lessons and beliefs during that marriage that was too long in some ways and not nearly long enough in other ways.  I depended upon another person for so long that I began to view dependence as the ultimate sign of "loser status."  I felt helpless, hopeless and completely broken.  I felt weak, exhausted and tired of feeling worthless and lost in my situation. I longed to feel independent and on top of my life again.  So, when I separated and finally divorced, independence was what I craved most.

Dependence is defined (www.dictionary.com) first as the state of relying on or needing someone or something for aid, support or the like.  The second definition is reliance; confidence; trust.  When I read this a few days ago (this post has been going around and around in my head for a few days), I was kinda stunned.  You see, the first definition makes a person sound weak, needy, unable to function without said object or person.  The second definition is what I have grown to realize is an underlying source of strength. 

My road over the last 5 years has had more downs than ups.  In the last 5 years, I have experienced unimaginable stresses that ate at my heart, mind and soul.  Aside from taking care of the girls, money was always my biggest worry.  First, there was never enough.  Second, what there was, was typically spent on another's alcohol problem.  One night clearly stands out in my mind.  One of the girls (I am pretty sure it was Cassie) was sick, and had a high fever.   Not only did I have a newborn to take care of, but two other kids who needed my attention,  one of which was sick.  To top that off, my homework load at that point was overwhelming (oh, how I wish I had homework like those days now!).  I was stressed, I was anxious, I was so tired.  All I wanted to do was give up.  I asked my then husband to pick up Motrin on the way back home.  He said he had no money.  Frustrated, I believed him, but had to pick up the phone to call family and see if someone could bring me the medicine.  I had to depend on someone who had no responsibility to me or my child, and pay for medicine because we just didn't have it.  When my husband walked in with a case of beer under his arm, I remember losing it.  I look back at that night and know I said things I didn't mean.  Looking back, I remember knowing what would happen after I lost it, knowing I would probably be "at fault" for the beer he so desperately needed.  And absolutely hating myself for 1) not being able to provide for my child what she needed, 2) not being able to give my husband what he needed, and 3) not being strong enough to stop the drinking and verbal attacks from happening inside my home, especially three sets of little eyes around witnessing some of it.  This night was a turning point in my walk with God.  I didn't know it then, but I know it without a doubt then.  Even then, in the midst of chaos and confusion and such incredible sadness and frustration, He truly was working all things for my good. 

I realized then that sometimes you have to depend on someone other than yourself to give you the things you most desperately need.  That night, it was a bottle of ibuprofen.  Several months ago, it was a bag of clothes.  Not big things, but necessary things.  I remember I felt so utterly weak in the situation, and remember calling upon His name to deliver me from the hurt, from the fear, from the absolute frustration that my life was.  Not but a few weeks later came a promise of deliverance.  I learned how to closely depend upon God for my happiness and joy.  And, most days, I failed miserably.  When I wasn't focusing on how to make the promise happen as soon as possible, I was focusing on how to change the person causing my pain and frustration, rather than focusing on God to change me.  Fast forward about a year, and I had finally been given release from my marriage.  I was angry.  Let me be clear, I was angry not only with myself for failing and being so weak and needy, but also my ex-husband, but honestly, I was mostly angry with God.  Because, I had learned to depend on Him for the promise to be fulfilled.   I waited.  I prayed.  I believed.  I trusted.  One night, shortly after the separation took place, I remember crying out to God.  Anger and despair completely consumed me.  I had been hurt by the man I married.  I had been hurt by the God I served. 

That night, God spoke to my hurt, to my heart, speaking life over the situation.  He told me my promise was going to be fulfilled, but that my miracle had already happened, that it had never been for my ex-husband, but instead, for me.  I look back to that time, so many years ago.  I feel sadness, that the miracle I wanted to happen (healing in my marriage) never happened, and never will.  I do not miss or regret the abuse or the overwhelming chaos.  I miss the hope of what was to come. 

Funny enough, I am in the middle of the "Believing God" Bible study by Beth Moore.  I have never felt more challenged to believe God for the rest of His promise over me to be fulfilled.  Lol, and this presents new challenges I didn't even know I would encounter.  This week, I have come face to face with the reality that I have accepted defeat.  I have accepted that God promised me something, but that I don't believe I am worth enough for the promise to actually happen.  I believe He can do what He says He can do, but have a hard time knowing I am worth enough for Him to do it for me.  I want to take control of the situation and be independent, not needing to rely on Him for anything.  Some days, it feels easier to just do it on my own than without Him.  To just do it my way and have it happen already.  But, you know, on second thought, I think I already did that once. And, it didn't really work out all that well...

My problem lies within that.  God wants me to rely only on Him.  Not on my friends, not on my kids, not on my church.  He wants me.  He wants me to pursue Him, not because of what He can do, but for who He is - my Savior, my Redeemer, the Restorer of my soul.  He knows my struggles, He knows my failures, because He already planned the way out of them.  But, without trusting in Him and looking to Him for the answer, I am lost.  My "plan B" was His "plan A" all along.  He knew it would take me being broken and battered so that I would hit the place in my life I would be okay with being dependent upon Him.  He doesn't see that as weakness at all, but strength of the best kind. 

I don't know why I had to wait until now to remember these things.  I don't know when all of my promises will be revealed.  But, I do know until then, I can sit back and wait for Him to move.  I do know that when I am weak, He makes me strong.  My independence is such incredible weakness in His sight, and that He just wants me to sit back and rest against Him.  I will be strong.  I will be dependent.  And it will all be okay.  I am finally beginning to realize my failures are only in my head.  My failures might just be the beginning of the success in His plan for me.  So, if you read with me earlier in the week, thanks for the encouragement.  The sun is finally coming out...

Failure is an Option

I really want to write.  You know, complain, vent, cry, and just let it all get ugly and out.  I am a strong-willed, hard-headed person.  And, those are my good qualities.  I am also a wannabe perfectionist, and a do-gooder by instinct.  And tonight, there are a few things that pretty much slapped me upside the head. 

First revelation of the night: I want life to go according to my plans.  While I want to be in God's will, and do what He wants me to do, I really just want Him to go alongside of my plans, and agree that I want what He wants and he wants what I want and that we are both on the same page and its all gonna be just perfect.  Except, I am not God.  Nor do I want to be God.  So, yeah, this whole according to my plans thing isn't really working well for me, because while I seriously want His will for my life, I struggle letting go of my plans for my life so I can let His plans take over.  He ordained these days, but am I walking them the way He first planned?  And, if I am not walking in the ways He planned, do I really want to?  Talk about scary.  Freeing, yes, but scary too. 

Second revelation: I have a hard time accepting defeat.  I have a hard time allowing failure to even be an option.  My motto has always been failure (or imperfections or a slight change in plans or ... and the list sadly keeps going) is not ever an option.  It isn't something I like to think about, it isn't something I do well.  Failure is weakness.  Weakness is not something I like to think about, because I like to feel strong, with a nothing-can-stop-me sort of attitude.  On top of that, if there is the risk of failing, I just don't start.  Failure is just not an option.

And, oh yeah, revelation three: God's sense of humor is just not funny sometimes.  I see His hand over me, showing my insanely multiplying flaws.  The last three days, I have done nothing but beat the crap out of myself.  I failed with this, I failed with that.  I don't even want to try that, because, honestly, I will fail it too.  I have never wanted to just quit everything so bad as how I feel right now.  And yet, I sat in the midst of frustration and despair and had women tell me I was good.  That I was doing things right.  And, the only thought that kept going through my mind was, "Are you serious?  Do you see who you are talking to???"  I mean, thank God they don't read some of the prayers in my book lately.  Talk about doubt and fear and insecurity.  It is all written out on those pages.  But for some crazy reason, I keep going.  Because, deep down, I really want to believe them.  I want to quiet that voice that keeps telling me I am a failure that isn't worthy of anyone's love.  I want to believe that God really has a purpose and a plan for all of the craziness I am walking through right now. 

To be totally transparent, I have really been struggling spiritually over the last few weeks.  I pray.  But do I really hear Him?  I seek, but only for what I want to find.  And, my Bible study, I can't seem to get into it.  I feel like crap.  I am miserable.  I am failing at every single thing I am doing.  And I hate it.  I stood in church, and was pretty much spanked.  I prayed, and crazy enough, heard from God almost immediately.  I simply prayed that I would wait as long as it took.  That I was waiting, in the middle of praise and worship.  His reply was painful.  Cause, you know, He let me know He is waiting for me, too.  He is waiting for me to desperately need Him, above anything else.  He is waiting for me to seek Him first, instead of under my breath muttering or calling anyone who will listen.  He is waiting for me to just sit back and talk to Him, about the good, the bad, this nasty ugly cry thing that keeps happening,  to communicate about my silly doubts and fears and worries and exhaustion.  He wants me to fully pursue Him.  And, then clears my schedule so I have plenty of time to do so.  No excuses, right?  Except, that one...

Reality hit me square in the face tonight.  I don't fully seek God because I am terrified of what His plans might lead me into.  That failure is possible, and that my course might go the complete opposite direction from what I want.  I step out, and the challenges seem so incredibly huge.  He gives me strength for this challenge, or those kind words, but when will He decide I am not worth the effort anymore?  My Bible study hit home tonight.  What if I fail God?  What do I do then?  What if I screw up so bad that He decides I am not worth it, just like almost every other man  in my life has?  What happens then? 

I could not get out of that building with all those smiling happy faces fast enough tonight.  And, if you are reading this and you were there, sorry.  This big ugly cry thing was getting ready to go down, and well, I don't let most people see me break down.  So, I am sorry.  Anyway, Beth Moore hit it.  I may fail.  I may screw up.  I mean, I could really, totally, completely fail God.  Big time.  Or worse, do something that makes someone else fail God.  But does that change the way He feels for me?  And, if it does, what do I do, then?

My head and mind say, "Of course not, Cil!  His love for you is NOT performance based."  But, my heart is a little shattered.  My ego is a little bruised and battered.  I am not where I was.  And no man or woman can take me back there.  But, my heart still wonders whether or not I am fully capable of being truly loved by a man, including God.  I know I will put this out there tonight, the sun will come out tomorrow, and I will regret it.  I will feel embarrassed that I am allowing thoughts of doubt and negativity to creep in.  I will feel shame.  But, at some point, I am going to have to choose and stand behind one of a few things.

Option A: I can choose to believe that I am a worthless woman, who will never deserve love, will never be worth loving, and will fail at every relationship she will ever have.  This cycle could go on forever and ever, with this woman sinking deeper and deeper into negativity.  And, truly, who wants to be around this girl? 

Option B: I can choose to believe that I am worth something , but only when I am succeeding, not failing, when I am everything to everyone, and everyone loves me because of what I can do for them.  This cycle will cause this girl to be used and abused time and time again, because she will never realize how unconditional God's love is.

or, Option C:  This girl can embrace the promise she received tonight.  The one that said God will not fail me, regardless of how often I fail Him.  And, oh, that is a hard one to believe.  I see my faults.  I see my hurts, my longings, my doubts.  I look at myself and do not feel worth it.  I don't see what He or anyone else sees.  But when He looks at my face, He sees a different creation, washed clean by the blood of Christ.  One that struggles often, but refuses to quit.  One that puts forth her best effort, and sometimes just goes about it the wrong way.  And, when I choose to not believe all of that, I am choosing to believe Christ's sacrifice for me just wasn't quite good enough. 

You see, I have heard it all before.  I sang, "Jesus Loves Me," more than once (or a hundred times, probably) as a child.  I tell myself all the time that He loves me just the same as He always has, and that it will never run out.  I remind myself that no actions of my own are going to make Him love me more.  Even when I fail.  Even when I cry.  Even when I bolt because the thought of losing it in front of a room full of women feels like the worst predicament of my life. 

Honestly, I know that I am not alone in my battles.  I know that in order for me to fully believe, I need help.  I need God's Word moving through my heart all day long.  And I know that when it is, I don't doubt for a second how much He loves or cares for me, or that His promise is made good in His time, and He knows when it will be perfect for me.  I have to stop trying to fulfill this God-given promise in my ways and remember He doesn't need my help.  He just needs me to seek Him.  I am going to challenge myself this week to speak life-giving words over myself.  Praying this hits someone else, as it did me.  Really, for two reasons: 1) Because I don't want to be alone; and 2) Because if you are struggling, too, you probably need to know you are just as loved as I am. 

Captain of the Storm

I have not been in an Easter sort of mood today.  Nothing seems to sit right with me, I am tired, I am weary, waaa-waaa-waaa-waaa-waaa... So, I celebrated.  I praised.  I went to church.  Did the things I was "supposed" to do.  And, because I had this brilliant idea to put devotionals and new Bibles in Easter baskets instead of tons of candy or cheap toys that I will throw away next week, I had three little girls anxious for bed because I promised we would read together before bed.  One on one.   God has a hysterical sense of humor, just saying'...

Sara and I snuggled down, she looked up the verses in her devotional and read them at the appointed time, I read the devotional part, and we prayed together.  With her, this is our routine anyway.  She was having horrible nightmares, trouble sleeping, and worrisome thoughts keeping her awake.  About a month ago, we decided we were going to find her one scripture to think about while she was falling asleep, would pray for God's hands to comfort her mind, and she would sleep on her Bible.  Well, it worked so well we haven't stopped.  And, she totally reminds me when I am in a rush.  Not one single nightmare, either, thank God!  Anyway, one down, two to go.  I turned off the lights and just longed for my own bed, with my own thoughts and alone-ness

I get to Cassie, who lost hers already, which is out of character for her.  She read it and just couldn't remember where she left it.  She was upset, I was tired.  We compromised, piled in the same bed and read out of Jessie's new Bible**.  It is really impressive by the way.  Detailed stories, vivid pictures and tonight, it spoke straight to this hurting Momma's heart.  I let Jessie pick, started reading, thinking it was the same old story, and was so teary eyed by the end I wasn't sure I was gonna get to finish.  And I knew I had to write.  So, here goes...

I have mentioned more than once or twice (or five or ten or a thousand) times that I am weary.  I am tired of waiting.  I am tired of feeling battered around, drifting at sea.  I am in the final months of school, the workload is insane.  I am juggling two different jobs (thank God for the money, but...), and realized recently every night of the week has something going on.  I refuse to give up my ministry or my church life.  I can't quit work, and God knows, I can't quit school.  And my kids don't even do sports that I could cut out.  Busy is no longer an adjective that describes me.  It is just the state of being that has taken over me.  I rush from this to that to that to this, then to this other and back again.  I feel like a chaotic, exhausted, sorry, crazy mess.  I want this.  I need that, and it just keeps repeating.  Or worse, the kids need this, then that and multiplied times three adorable girls.  Insanity.  Absolute insanity.

My life right now feels like a massive storm.  Winter feels unending, no sunshine, gray skies everywhere.  Both mentally and literally.  My heart is heavy and dark, with so little hope inside.  I see no end to the mental season in sight.  School won't end until October, which feels like a decade away.  This single period of life remains unchanged.  No fun dates, no flirtations, nothing.  I hate admitting it, because I feel entirely weak and useless.  I feel unattractive and old, then mad because I shouldn't allow myself to be discouraged by human men's view of me.  And yet, all the feelings remain, just the same.  I see these situations looming over me like dark thunderheads rolling in, just waiting for my destruction.  I feel like I am one wave away from losing it all.  Crazy thing is, life is really good.  I have nothing to complain about.  I have a relationship, a dependency upon God that I never could have imagined was possible.   I have girls who love God and trust in Him for far more than I can.  I have financial security. I have a very reliable car and more than enough food in my pantry.  I have clothes on my back and the girls, and cute ones at that.  I am blessed.  But the storm within rages all the more. 

Anyway, back to my total God moment.  Jessie flips through her Bible, and decides she wants the story with all those stars.  In my head, I thought "Yes!  I know this, I can do this.  God's promise to Abraham is easy, and the star illustrations were incredible!"  And then I look at the page she is pointing to.  It says Mark 4 and Matthew 8.  Yup, wrong already.  So, it is instead the story of the disciples crossing the sea when an unexpected storm comes up.  "The storm blew the water into towering waves that hurled the little boat up, up, up -- then sent it hurling, CRASHING back down, down, down!"  That was the moment I knew this story was not gonna be easy for me to finish.  I was reading and talking to God all at the same time, trying to not think about how that boat really symbolized me.  It went on to say. "Jesus' friends had been fishermen all their lives, but in all their years fishing on this lake they had never once seen a storm like this one.  No matter how hard they struggled with their rope and sails, they couldn't control their boat.  This storm was too big for them."  And, I had to admit, in all my years, I have never felt as hopeless as I do tonight.  And for no reason beyond the fact my human mind just doesn't understand.

You know, my storm is, simply put, too big for me.  I am out here, spinning around, thankful to not be sinking, but not feeling like I am getting anywhere else either.  This storm overhead is making me lose control of my boat, and there is only one big enough to get it back on course.  We turn the page to see the storm still raging.  And the words, oh how they speak to me.  Even now, tears flow.  "But the storm wasn't too big for Jesus.  'Help," they screamed...Jesus stood up and spoke to the storm.  'Hush!' he said, and that was all."  And then sweet Jessie's stars came out.  The storm quieted.  The power held in one four letter word.  And He spoke to my heart. "Be still.  Just be still."

Here is the part that still kills me.  "Then Jesus turned to his wind-torn friends.  'Why were you scared?' he asked. 'Did you forget who I Am?  Did you believe your fears, instead of me?" Why is it when the storm is at its worse we forget who made that storm?  Why is it that it is so simple to simply believe it is our job to just keep our little boat in control, instead of just asking God to remind the storm who the boss really is?  This is the same God that sent His son to die for me, only to raise Him again.  If He can be brought into the world without, well, what makes a baby, heal the sick, make wine from water, raise the dead, and then overcome it himself, really, what I am I so stinking worried about?

"Jesus' friends had been so afraid, they had only seen the big waves.  They had forgotten that if Jesus was with them, they had nothing to be afraid of, no matter how small their boat or how big the storm."  And there it is.  The problem is, I see too much.  I see the decisions, the weight of one wrong choice and the consequences that could be mine.  I see three little girls who trust me completely to do what is best for us.  I see me, making decisions that really take two minds.  And I start thinking how small my faith is, and whether or not my promise was really God given.  I see the circumstances, instead of telling my circumstances to meet my God. 

Today in church, I struggled not to think too much.  Not to let my mind or my heart or my anything get too far away from the words on the screen.  And my heart just screamed, "Lord, do you hear me?  Do you even know I am here?  Where are You and why aren't you listening to me?"  Let me just say, when Pastor said something almost exactly the same, I didn't think it was God speaking to me.  I just thought, "At least I'm not the only one."  I am so stinking hard-headed.  He hasn't left me.  He hasn't walked away.  He isn't sitting up there, laughing, ridiculing or making fun of me.  He just wants me to learn that regardless of how big or long this storm is, He is still bigger, and He wants to know that He is still my captain. 

The question I have to ask you (while asking myself too) is this:  Do you trust Him, believe Him enough to let him direct your boat, however small it may be, or do you see the huge waves crashing and know it's all up to you?  He will speak to your waves, just like He's speaking to mine.  Unfortunately for us, we gotta let go of the helm for Him to take us where we need to be, gotta listen to Him speak over our wind and waves and allow His peace to wash over us and our situations. 


**Jessie's Bible is the Jesus Storybook Bible and can be bought here.  Lol, and I am not being compensated in any way to write a review, tell this story, and this is also not an affiliate link.  This is just a really awesome Bible!!

Life Just Happens Sometimes

Sitting here, watching the girlies dance to Taylor Swift, watching it rain with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.  Not much could be better.  The last six weeks have been an insane rush from one thing to another, and today, this is exactly what I needed.  Peace.  And noise.  And giggling girls. 

My Grandma passed away at the beginning of March.  We knew it was coming, and were waiting for it, but the reality of it was this: I wasn't exactly ready.  She taught me so much about life, love and who I am.  She was an incredibly spunky lady, who knew what it meant to love and live life to the fullest.  She taught me how to play cards with dignity, and how to lose with grace.  She also taught me how talk smack and win with an air of cockiness.  She taught me how not to have a poker face, and that it is okay to show excitement over a good hand, because it really isn't all about winning anyway.  She taught me that games (card, domino or board) are an amazing way of creating a family bond and some of the sweetest memories of my life.  She taught me that it is okay to let things go, but that some hurts may take a lifetime to get over.  She taught me how to make a mean egg salad sandwich, and that sometimes, the easiest way to show someone you love them is through their belly.  She loved baseball as much as any girl could, and while I know she loved the sport, mainly she just loved all those men in ball uniforms, cause those uniforms totally gave her a better view of their backsides.  Apparently, some things really are genetic... 

I was so incredibly blessed with inexpensive airfare to get there for her service, which was beautiful.  The pastor that spoke emphasized the way Christians will wait for each other to arrive.  And I know she is waiting, encouraging and smiling at me from up there.  I was blessed to be her granddaughter.  She was a strong woman with an amazing zeal for life that I can only hope people will remember me for.

While I was there, I was so blessed to be able to spend some time on the beach.  I love the beach.  Maybe not so much in a bathing suit, but walking, listening, just being still, I love that.  I love that as I walk life out, knowing exactly who I am, the beach is one of the most spiritual places ever.  Watching the waves roll in and out reminded me of the season I am in.  Waves come, waves go.  Days come in, bring their struggles, their frustrations, the happy moments, and growth, and then get washed away to start again.  Reminding me that God will wash away the stuff that needs to be taken back out to sea, while still leaving the stuff that needs to be there. 

A thought occurred to me while watching huge waves crash the shore right before I came home.  God washes so much away, but still leaves the sand.  Moves it around a little, but leaves it.  This verse resonated within me: "How precious are your thoughts about me, O God.  They cannot be numbered!  I can't even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand!"  And I realized, He is never going to leave me empty or disheartened.  He leaves the good.  He washes away the bad.  Feeling the sand shift underneath me just helped me realize His thoughts may change about me.  But they are all good, and so many they cannot be counted, far more than the sand.  And, let me just say, that is a lot of goodness! 

Upon coming home, I took the girls to visit my sister and her family in Texas.  We had an amazing trip.  Lots of cousins racing through the house, laughing, playing, scheming.  I am so glad all of the kids are actually old enough to just go play without needing help from the grownups.  It was nice to sit and talk with grown-ups, to laugh and plan and just carry on.  A much needed break from reality was great! 

And, now, I find myself in the midst of figuring out how to just keep going.  I am not sad about my Grandma like I was, especially because I know where she is, that she is waiting for me, and that she isn't hurting or confused anymore.  But, I find myself wondering what people will say about me when the time comes.  I so long to be the woman of God that has it all together and all figured out.  But, really, does any woman of God really fit that description?  We all have flaws, and God knows all about them, because He put them there.  But how do we depend on God to get us through those weak spots? 

You know, this spot I am in completely feels weak.  I am so incredibly tired.  I have less than 7 months left of school.  I have less than 7 classes.  I have an amazing GPA.  I have worked hard.  But how do I stay strong enough to finish this thing?  Then, I look at the obvious.  I am a 28-year-old woman waiting on God to provide me with someone to spend the rest of my days with.  Obviously, I don't need this man to complete me, provide for me, or make me someone I know I'm not, but I so long for something more than I have.  I try to be content.  I try to wait.  I try to not take matters into my own hands.  And then, that stupid voice in the back of my brain nags at me: What is wrong with you that no one is interested?  You will never ever measure up.  And, in those moments, I am learning what it feels like to fully rely on God to make me who I am going to be.  I am learning that I have to shut those voices up and walk with Him, even when I'd much rather do it the only other way I know how, which didn't involve Him the first time.  I have the most amazing little girls on the face of the planet.  But, there are days, I just need help.  Not even so much for them, but for me.  I know they need a present and positive male role model.  I get that.  But, I also get that I need someone to give me another perspective on what they need and what they don't.  So, I wait. I pray.  I thank God for the miracle underway.  And it is hard.

I want this to be encouraging.  I want someone to read this and say, "Wow.  That is just what I needed."  Except, I have used this to complain about my plight instead of focus on how amazing it is to be free from abusive situations, to be able to make Godly choices for my kids and myself, and to be able to be self-sufficient, more or less.  To think about all of the ways God has helped me make it through this wilderness.  To think of the blessings that I have, and not because life was easy, but because I have learned to lean a little harder on God.  He is the God of the impossible.  Thinking back over some of the miracles Jesus performed in his time on Earth can only prove my miracle will happen.  School will eventually end.  I will have the strength to maintain my grades and walk tall across the stage at graduation.  There is an incredibly special man out there looking for us, allowing God to lead him here.  It will happen.  After all, Jesus not only healed the sick, gave sight to the blind, and walked across water, He conquered the grave.  Writing my happily ever after will be easy-peasy after that! 

I hope this post finds all of you out there preparing for an incredible Easter weekend.  I know we are ready for at least 2 egg hunts, if not a third.  The girls are happy, and I am happy they know why we celebrate.  Jesus is risen and alive in my heart.  Nothing better than that!  I am gonna get to ironing Easter dresses and getting ready for a fun-filled celebration weekend.  Happy Easter!!

Scars

Ok, so before I write this post, I am just gonna say it.  Most of the thoughts that have been going around in my head all started yesterday afternoon.  You see, I spent most of yesterday afternoon priming and painting the bathroom the little girls and I share a new color.  So, the thoughts that randomly popped into my head either could have been Spirit-led or totally just paint fumes.  I will let you decide, but if you feel like the paint may have gone to my head, maybe just this once, don't mention it to me...  ;)

After thoroughly re-organizing the garage yesterday morning, I decided it was time to tackle my bathroom.  I dearly love my little sister.  However, I seriously question her love for all things green.  She and her husband stayed in the basement I call mine for a few months after her oldest daughter was born.  Not joking, every room was a different shade green.  At one point, six spaces in this house were green of some sort.  We used to tease her, because we could all see exactly which rooms were hers at one point.  If it was green, chances were really good it was hers when it was painted.  Thinking about it, I don't think a single room is green in her house now.  Wonder why...  I really do love her.  She is an awesome little sister.  Anyway, before I totally get distracted, I will keep moving.  So, this split pea soup green bathroom that I have lived with for way too long was finally going to see its last day.  I gathered up spackle, tape, rollers, brushes, paint, primer, a ladder, paint trays and cups, and a few other items needed to get the job going.  I prepped the bathroom, sanded some rough places on the walls, repaired some small nail holes, and taped around about a million fixtures.  It looked a lot like this:

This really did not do the green color justice.  It was not a muted color.

It was around this point that I began to either be totally impressed upon by God or be trapped with paint fumes for a little too long.  I started to think about how my heart is so like those walls.  (Em, if you are reading this, please don't be offended.  I just really don't like green walls, not that there is anything wrong with them, they just aren't me...)  The walls of my heart used to be this nasty disgusting shade of pea soup green, with little holes every now and again, a few gash marks here and there, some funky flaking going on around the edges.  Not really thinking I could be anything more than ugly.  Worn out.  In need of some repairs and fresh paint. 

As much as I hate to think about it, a lot of the ugliness I put there myself.  I can't even begin to express how often I heard I was worthless, stupid, unimportant and without ability to be beautiful.  Eventually, I didn't need to hear it to just know it.  Something I learned early in school was the difference between common knowledge and knowledge you had to back with proof.  Common knowledge was basic; something everyone knew.  Anything else needed a citation, proof that it was fact, evidence going for the statement.  Well, me being lower than scum was pretty much common knowledge.  If you don't believe me, well, let's be nice and just say it was accepted as common knowledge.  I knew I would never be a good enough wife, mother, housekeeper, fix-it man, cook, or anything else.  The harder I tried, the worse I felt, the worse I became.  Eventually, I would just walk around doing my normal day-to-day stuff and bad mouth myself.  I knew it was going to happen anyway, so I may as well get part of it over with.  The worst part, you ask?  The thought that I would never get any better.  Nothing I would ever do would change any of this common knowledge.  It was fact, believed completely, unchangeable.  I began to really tear myself down so I didn't have so far to fall when other people in my world did, because in that part of my life, it was only a matter of time.

Filling in the holes, sanding down the rough spots, I started thinking about how God will soften our hearts to things around us.  He will start gently taking care of the blemishes, the ugly spots, long before we allow him to finish the work.  For me, this started last year with the book You're Already Amazing by Holley Gerth.  This book taught me to replace ugly words and lies with God's truth about me - straight from the word of God.  God just started filling in hole by hole, gouge by gouge, until all I had left were the little white patches, all I had were the scars.  Every once in a while, one of those scars would burst open, a fresh wound would appear.  Little by little, I started learning where to turn when I experienced "ugly" moments.  Replace the yuck with truth, ask for help and encouragement, and walk forward knowing I was only ugly or worthless or unimportant or stupid if I allowed myself to be that way.  I made the choice to refuse to believe it. 

Then came the fun part of priming it.  In all honesty, I am just going to say I hope I never, ever, ever have to paint the bathroom ever again.  In my best Taylor Swift voice, like ever.  Seriously.  Anyway, it was at this point that I was frustrated, a little lonely, a little more than sore (more from lifting and moving boxes all morning than painting), and starting to throw myself a mini pity party.  I decided I was done complaining.  I was going to just be thankful for a new coat of paint.  Literally, not symbolically.  So, I began thinking and praising for what I did have.  It made me really start thinking about how God must feel when we finally let go.  We aren't quite finished, but we get to be healed and washed clean.  Priming that bathroom did not mean I was anywhere near done, but it did mean I had a workable canvas.  It made me really think about whether or not I was letting the heavenly artist do his work, or if I was going to keep undoing what was already done.  Keep gouging those weak areas that weren't completely dry and ready for the next step, or if I was going to allow God to sand them down and make them usable.  He had my battered, bruised, hardened heart.  He made some repairs, but I wasn't his finished creation just yet.  What was I going to allow him to do? 

By the time I finally got to put on some soft, romantic pale lavender paint on those primered walls, I thought I was gonna do some happy dancing.  I just started to think about the ugly that those walls were, but how amazingly beautiful they were gonna be when I was finished.  I am not God, nor do I want anyone to think that I think I am.  But, I did start to think about the way God must feel when he sees one of his daughters walking forth in renewed beauty.  When we finally let his mighty hands cover up all of those ugly, battered places and make them fresh, renewed, beautiful.  I felt so happy, so relieved to be done.  I just wanted to sit in there and soak it all in.  Yeah, I know this sounds ridiculously silly, because I really sound crazy, but He does this awesome thing in us, and just wants to sit back and enjoy it with us. 

I guess my questions tonight are these:  Can you praise him while he's filling in your holes?  What about when he's wiping the canvas clean?  Do you praise him when the work is nearing completion or just run to the next thing?  He has a plan.  He has a vision and a dream for you.  To take you from ugly pea soup to peaceful, soothing pale lavender.  Just wait for him.  It is a process.  Praise him.  Thank him.  Let it go.  Quit destroying the work he is doing, and let him be the artist.  Just as I had a purpose and a plan with that sandpaper, those rough times are just softening you, getting you ready for something bigger and better.  Are you ready?  Cause He's waiting with exactly what you need to be healed and whole, refreshed and renewed, beautiful. 



Shameless Persistence

I am almost to the halfway mark of my senior year.  Not quite, but almost there.  For the last 4 weeks, I have struggled with a class that has kicked my behind, in more ways than one.  It has taught me to endure through more than the first week, it has taught me to open my mind and accept things that are not in agreement with me, and that I can do this.  It is so funny, because today, this is school.  Two weeks ago, this was being a single mom.  Two years ago, this was a divorce.  Six years ago, this was a miracle baby I couldn't imagine having.  Whatever this is for you, I am sure you can relate.

This class has been a hard one, probably more so in my head than actually in the classroom.  I was struggling with it once, and dropped it within the first week.  It just was so overwhelming.  The syllabus was beyond my understanding, and I just couldn't wrap my mind around it.  The instructor was difficult to work with.  Then, Jess got sick in the second week of this same class when I was forced to drop it a second time.  My kids are my first priority, but I also don't want my grades to suffer because of them, so over the last few years, a few courses have been dropped in the first few days to help ease stress.  I took another class instead, and was confronted with this one again at the beginning of the year.   I have never wanted to quit so bad in my life.  But, I didn't.  I refused defeat.  I refused to quit.  I refused a lot, actually, but I have three more days of this class.  I can make it, I think.  ;)

But, really, isn't that what life is typically like?  There is always some battle we have to fight.  There is always that person that rubs us the wrong way.  There is always that situation we desperately want different.  There is always something preventing us from having happiness or complete peace within our homes.  We all say, "If I can just make it through __(fill in your blank here)___, then I will be joyful again."  Our focus becomes making it out alive, instead of being happy right where you are and finding joy within the craziness. 

Since the beginning of the year, I am more than guilty of making that statement several times a day, most often to myself, underneath my breath, but still.  It recently hit me that instead of being content where I am, I keep allowing myself to postpone contentment until the circumstances are right for it.  I find myself struggling to keep my head above water, because I am completely missing the boat.  I love the story of Peter walking on the water.  For the last six months or so, it has just spoken so many life lessons over my life.  Being bold, asking for what you want, trusting that it can happen, what faith can do, and stepping out.  Also, learning mistakes happen, and that Jesus is so incredibly quick to forgive and move on, even in our human inability to fully trust and believe.  I recently heard another add-on to this story.  The storm was still raging around Peter when Peter stepped out of the boat.  The waves and storm did not ease until after Jesus saved Peter from sinking and they were both back inside the boat.  Peter prayed, and his miracle happened while the storm was raging, but his faith, his lack of trust and communication stopped it from happening in the way I think Jesus intended it to happen. 

My pastor has been doing a series on prayer for the last several weeks.  It has been amazing, but I have felt so discouraged upon leaving.  I am not an awesome prayer warrior.  But, I pray often throughout my day.  The pastor has said more than once to use shameless persistence.  Keep praying until you get it.  So, let me tell you.  I have been shamelessly persisting.  I was shamelessly persisting that one same prayer again this week, when I felt God stir something up in me.  And, I was slapped.  Hard.  Straight across the face. 

You see, when we are going through whatever "this" may be, we probably pray about it all the time. It is that one need, dream, hope, desire, longing, or promise that most often comes to mind.  We pray until we are blue in the face from praying about it.  We know if we do this or we do that, God will see our need and grant us our desire.  So, we pray.  We serve.  We worship.  We persist that one thing.  And, that one thing, I persisted.  Let me tell you, so much so, that I realized I was finding it hard to pray about anything else.  So, during this prayer time, I felt God ask me, "Cil, if I gave you this one thing, you would have nothing else to pray about, because this is ALL you pray about."  Talk about a revelation.  My communication with God had become consumed by what I want.  And, as usual, He was totally right.  It wasn't about what I was doing.  He will not answer because I prayed solidly for "x" amount of time.  He will answer because I believe He will do it.  Shameless persistence is great, but are you truly believing He will do what you are shamelessly persisting Him for?  Is your shameless persistence because it could be the "magic formula" that forces God to answer you?  Or are  you persisting the communication that is so vital to the relationship between yourself and God?

I spend a few minutes each day praying for the needs of those around me.  I am ashamed to admit that after I do this, I don't think much about their needs or their concerns.  I feel (or felt) as though I had placed a bright, red check mark next to their name and could move on.  Granted, sometimes a person comes to mind throughout my day, and changes that, but for the most part, the above is true.  Instead, I focus on myself, my girls, our wants, our needs, and praise God for the things I know He is doing.  And that one thing.  Prior to last weekend, it had become all consuming.  You know, I really thought it was okay to be consumed by it, because after all, I was praying about it so often.  I wasn't taking control of the situation and running with it.  I was praying and waiting and waiting and praying.  But, the lack of answered prayer began to cause discouragement, unhappiness and honestly, it was a joy stealer.  I was looking for the answer, for the specific formula, so that I could pray, have my prayers heard, and be done, moving on to that next thing on my list of needs or wants.  And, wow, does that sound so incredibly selfish. 

This week, I have tried to maintain the prayer, but focus more on those around me and the things He is doing that I see right now. I feel renewed hope, more joy and contentment in the things I have, instead of just wanting or needing more.  It is so funny, how a year or two ago, I would have taken the reprimand with shame and guilt and allowed it to stand between me and God.  I am so incredibly blessed to realize He can love me and correct me without me needing to be ashamed and it has allowed me to feel more connected with this amazing God I serve.  I realize that it is okay to shamelessly persist something, but only when you are communicating with God about every aspect of your life, not just that one thing.  I guess my thought for the day is this:  Are you talking to God about every aspect of your life, or just that one thing you so desperately want?  Are you telling Him all about you, or just a tiny part about you?  He wants us to seek Him with all our heart, to be thankful for what He has done and is doing, and He wants us.  More than He wants to do good things for us, He wants to know us, to talk with us and love us.  We are His prized possessions.  So, yes, by all means, shamelessly persist.  But don't forget about everything else. 

As I re-read this, I realize I need to clarify something on my heart.  I am in no way thinking my Pastor's words were wrong.  They were so incredibly not.  My understanding was biased to my particular situation and I only heard the parts that I wanted to hear, causing me to misinterpret what his meaning really was.  God wants our shameless persistence, with our entire lives resting in His capable hands, not just a part.

Strength is SO Overrated...

I am totally going on a massive lack of sleep, so I am pretty punchy.  Cassie had some issues that kept her up throughout last night, then when I finally got her to stay asleep around 3 this morning, Jessie woke up and was up until after 4.  I didn't fall back asleep until after 5.  This Momma is tired.  And punchy.  And in seriously rare form.  Might even be wise to just not read this post.  Or it might be pretty comical and full of craziness.  Who knows.

You see, yesterday, I prayed that God would help me wake up so that I could spend some extra prayer time with Him.  Next time I pray that prayer, I will absolutely be more specific.  I need to actually get some sleep before I get woken up.  However, I haven't prayed over my girls like I did last night in a long time.  Okay, well, really, ever.  It was pretty cool.  And irritating that they had to be awake all night.  And exhausting.  And I wish I had a magic pill that would take my crankiness away tonight.  And, on top of that, I am just about out of coffee.  And I can't concentrate on schoolwork, not at all.  Okay, my complaining is done.  Well, I hope it is done. 

Have you ever been given a compliment that was genuine and kindhearted and totally awesome, only to realize you wish you didn't have that quality?  I was given some encouragement tonight, and I so needed it.  I experienced a total weak moment in the midst of tired and school and schedules and just one more thing, and lashed out.  I shouldn't have, and will probably find myself apologizing again because my mouth just spouts off at just the right second.  I am seriously going to have to watch work on that.  Or maybe just staple my mouth shut and cancel texting privileges on my phone.  I started my morning this morning with an apology for something my mouth got me in trouble for.  Hey, at least I know I am good at something, right??  If only I could just have a surgeon put my foot in my mouth and keep it there.  Would probably be way easier...

Anyway, it made me sort of think about how the grass always seems greener.  When we see that amazing Mom at Kroger, using a quiet, kind voice that just screams Proverbs 31 woman, we envy her patience.  Or we envy her compassionate spirit.  Or we long for an extra helping of organizational skills we lack.  Maybe it is the Mom on the PTO board whose makeup is always perfect, clothes impeccable, and seemingly has never known what it is like to have single mom struggles.  And we sit there and wonder what they did that was so right, that they got the perfect life.  Or the perfect patience.  Or the perfect hair.  Or the perfect husband.  And the list just goes on.  We immediately start to compare.  Okay, I immediately start to compare. 

Have you ever stopped to wonder how that woman got the patience to not be frustrated by two squirming toddlers fighting over who has the bigger cookie?  Or that single mom who the strength to just keep it all together?  Or that parent at the school who just has the perfect life?  Over the last few years, I have realized I am strong.  I can endure many challenges.  I can overcome worry and doubt and hating myself.  But, how do we get to that place of knowing we are capable? 

Oh yeah, by walking it out.  By living it, one day at a time.  And, it's tough.  I hate that in order to gain more of something, we have to work harder to achieve it.  It is like training for that next big run, or acing the final, or making your marriage work.  It doesn't happen overnight.  We are each given circumstances to help us train for the bigger goal.  For me, my strength came from experiences I don't really like to think about, and God knows, I sure didn't want to experience them.  However, during those tough times, I realized how capable I really am, because He never leaves my side, never quits fighting for me.  I have been given the tools I need for this season of my life.  And, when this season is over for me, I will possess tools that will be valuable to someone I can help later.  I might wish I had more patience or compassion or most definitely a quiet spirit.  What I don't realize is that in order to gain those things, God is absolutely going to put me in situations that will require those actions to be practiced and proven. 

It is so simple to look backwards and compare myself to others, to my old self, to my closest friends, to my greatest enemies.  To wish I had their lives instead of mine, to wish this or wish that.  And I think of one of my favorite verses, "Forget all that - it is nothing compared to what I am going to do (Isaiah 43:18)."  Forget about it all.  Don't waste time comparing where you were to where you are now.  Don't worry or wish or fret over what is or isn't happening right this second.  I'm just gonna be honest, the compliment was a hard one for me.  I am tired of being strong.  I am not strong because I want to be, but because I have no other choice.  It was one of things, I immediately started comparing myself to others around me.  I want their life, their patience, their house, whatever.  I want to be better at ________...  I had a much needed meltdown tonight.  I was tired.  It was necessary.  It has been a WAY emotional weekend, leaving me high and low and all over the place.  I'm pretty sure I was described as a roller coaster yesterday.  Side note: you know who you are, and let me know if credit is required...  ;-)  Focusing back, I know comparing myself is only going to lead to failure.  I can't be anyone except myself.  Anything less than me is failure.  I have strength.  I have the ability to keep going when I don't really want to.  And the most awesome thing is that I have the ability to look up when I don't feel able to do anything else.  Tonight, I feel weak.  I feel tired.  I feel unfocused and incapable.  And then I remember, I know who holds my tomorrow.  I know who gives me my strength, and who is in charge of laying it all out for me.  Philippians 3:8 says it perfect.  "Everything else is worthless, when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord."  Tonight, I feel weak and unable to take anything else, but I know strength comes when I hit my knees.  I'm tired, but He gives rest to the weary.  I feel incapable, but know that I am capable of anything with God on my side.  Yup, it sounds cheesy and just so easy when I read it.  It seems so simple, like magically all my problems just vanish into thin air.  Doesn't work quite like that, but I can sleep knowing my peace, my strength, my hopes are in Someone who only wants His best for me.  And how can I not feel strong and capable and ready to fight these stupid battles with that going for me?