This
morning, all disheveled inside and out, I have made a decision; one that has been a
long time coming. Though my emotions scream against it, I choose to believe the voice of truth. As a little girl I believed many lies. As a teen, I believed many lies. As a young adult I believed even more lies and as a middle aged woman, the lies continue. The result- Deception rooted so deep within me. And today it is exposed. I raise my weapon against it by choice!
The mirror wastes no time, "You are not good
enough to be loved." My eyes see the aging one, the unlovely. My heart patterns would scream, "No! Fight it!" Yet today the threads that bind are to be broken. A determined choice I have made.
I have decided to stop believing the one whom I thought was my protector. The accusing voice that would step in and share the flaws that needed perfecting. The voice of the marble roller that would stand in the distance pointing the way to what the world says is the path to love. Yet, the voice of truth says that though outwardly we are wasting away, day by day we are renewed inwardly.
The voice of the accuser does not stop calling but I will not listen. I hear his voice and see his talons as they point to each imperfection, but this day I will direct my eyes up and my ears to the gentle one that stirs like a warm spring breeze, melting this frozen paralyzed heart.
Today I choose to love myself, even though I
stand flawed and imperfect. Today I choose to receive God's love, Fully. I AM loved,
just as I am, a disheveled mess. I choose to believe the voice of truth that
says I am loved-Eternally loved. Loved in the good and the bad; forever LOVED. No depths nor heights can separate me from Christ’s love. I am loved, and in that love comes the ability to truly love. With open hands I receive and let go. With open hands I am given that I may give. And though outwardly I waste away
and daily grow older, I have purpose; God uses the noble and in-noble. Who can
say who is noble or in-noble in God’s economy, if not God?
I recognize the vulnerability of my declaration. Today is a new day dawning.
I recognize my worth for WHO I am- all that I am in HIM and Him alone.
For IN HIM, I have peace, joy, safety, strength, wholeness, vision, wisdom, security, gentleness, faith, hope, power and Love. Some may stand in judgment of me. Yet we all make declarations, whether
consciously or not. Freedom or slavery comes with each choice. Which choice will we make this day, whose voice will we believe?
The distance of my life
has harbored a mask. A mask that the world gives us to wear and hide behind.
I strip away the mask and all it hides. I stand and look and yes, continue to hear the voice of the accuser, but the gentle breeze of Christ's Spirit rises, moves, stirs and lifts me beyond the voice. It moves me to freedom. Through faith I can believe that I am indeed loved! It is through the substance of faith that I can dream again.
In order to receive fully, one must open fully.
I declare, I stand- my arms opened wide-I AM LOVED, JUST AS I AM, mess and all.
I pray you also will make the
decision to accept the unconditional love of Christ and recognize in his
love is perfection, perfection as he loves the imperfect. In his perfect love, he takes the
imperfect and turns ruined messes into pieces of art, into purpose, into TRUE BEAUTY. He loves that we too
may love. Love heals.
May the peace of God envelope you this day. May his joy make your steps lighter, may his love pour forth over you and in you and so much so that you cannot contain it. For when we know we are truly loved, it is then and only then that we can truly love. Love truly heals. Love conquers all, even the voice of the accuser. I AM LOVED, JUST AS I AM!
Saturday, January 12, 2013
I thought I'd take a moment to share a post from my blog, Lessons From Shadow. If you're a dog lover I think you might be able to relate:
This morning as I called my dog in from the back yard, I
watched him trot along. He did his usual trot, not really
wanting to obey and coming at his own pace. I watched as
he stopped and looked to his right, listening to the dogs over
the fence barking. I called his name. He began his side step
once again, never walking in a straight line. His head bobbed
to the left and to the right, his nose twitching at the various
aromas in the air. Easily distracted. I kept calling, "Come." I
couldn't help but think of how much that represented many
of us. The Lord calls to us, often we come with a distracted
heart. We trot along in life, hearing him calling us, but far to
easily merge to the left or to the right. Thank God he is not
Twenty two years ago an F5 tornado hit our town. The 1990 Plainfield tornado was a devastating tornado that occurred on the afternoon of Tuesday, August 28, 1990. The violent tornado killed 29 people and injured 353. This is my story of God's grace and protection during that storm.
(Google image)
God’s amazing Grace
It’s amazing to me how only a few moments in time can affect one’s life and the course of history can change in only a matter of seconds without any given warning. Sometimes, though, warnings are given to us and it is up to us to have a listening heart. I often ponder at how blessed our family was that August day in 1990. I no longer ask myself if prayer can make a difference, because I now know that it certainly can.
A few nights prior, late in the night, I woke to an overwhelming fear that something bad was going to happen to my children. Looking back now it was as if God had allowed me to taste what could have become a reality. At the time, I could not tell what exactly it was that had caused my heart to race or why I suddenly felt a sense of real danger. I rolled onto my side hoping to not wake my husband. My body began to shake and as tears streamed down my face, I called out and asked God to keep our children safe from whatever it was that wanted to cause such great harm. I didn’t have a clue as to how those prayers would impact our lives only a few days later, nor was I aware of the danger that was lurking around the corner.
The day was no different than those prior and proved to be another scorcher. Humidity hung in the air so thick I could hardly breathe. At twenty seven weeks along in my pregnancy the heat continued to play games with my emotions and those of my family. Our two children, Ashley, age six, and Jacob, age four were often cantankerous as the days of no air conditioning seemed to drag on. I spent much of the summer trying to entertain them the that best I could; but it seemed that no matter what I did, we would all end up frazzled and tired.
That morning, as we started our day nothing indicated to me that our routine, as hum drum as it was, was going to be interrupted; and that interruption would also touch the lives of hundreds of others. Later in the afternoon we began to get ready for Ashley’s doctor’s appointment across town and as the time drew near, I began to notice the weather shifting. The thought of much needed rain made me whisper under my breath, “Thank goodness, some relief.” I walked outside to gather the garbage cans from the curb and quickly felt the hair on my arms rise. Goose bumps indicated a drastic drop in temperature. I looked off to the west and saw a purple sky which suggested a storm was indeed approaching. We had experienced our share of storms in Plainfield, also known as part of "Tornado Alley." I knew the routine and headed back inside to gather the children and pet dog to my side. Just as I reached the back porch, huge rain drops began to shoot down all around me. The TV was switched from cartoons to the news. The weatherman alerted us to incoming storms, with the possibility of strong ones, but he did not indicate a threat of tornadoes. Ashley, Jacob and I stood at the kitchen window watching with intensity noting that the wind was beginning to pick up very rapidly. Panic was setting in on Ashley, as she saw her plastic swimming pool tumble across the yard. She said, “What if it’s a tornado?” (She had stood with me in the past as several neighbors told their stories from past tornadoes.) I tried to console her explaining it was just rain and some strong wind and we would be just fine. But deep down I tried to gather my own composure as I held them close. All of a sudden, the pounding outside took on another sound. Our home was being hammered by large chunks of hail. In an instant, the sky began to flash and thunder rolled across, it was almost deafening. I knew I could not let my fear be exposed. Ashley’s anxiety was now trickling onto Jacob. As I tried to calm them both, the lights flickered followed by darkness. The darkness seemed to swallow the last of the light, even though it was mid afternoon. This storm did not waste a moment of time, I hardly had time to think and before I knew I was barking orders. “Get downstairs now!” My legs felt like lead weights as I rushed to gather some candles for our even darker basement. Ashley and Oreo, our dog, wasted no time as they sprinted down the stairs but Jacob wanted his mommy and did not sense the danger. As, I searched the drawer frantically for matches, our front door blew open. Thoughts one after another raced through my mind. Fear began to take hold as I was hit with the reality that this was not a normal summer thunder storm. My eyes focused in on the large trees in our front yard being whipped about by an invisible force that was now looming over our house. Somehow between the roars of thunder, which now seemed to blend together, I was able to hear glass breaking in the far end of the house. I literally heard a whisper that seemed to shout to my very core, “Tornado!”
I screamed to Jacob, “Get downstairs!” but Jacob hesitated and wanted to know what was going on. Not now Jacob. I scooped him up and flew down the stairs hitting every other one. As we began to turn the corner, I could see daylight from the corner of my eye. The back door was gone.
We huddled next to the basement staircase. Our only source of light came from the pilot of the hot water heater. To say we were scared is an understatement. Our bodies shook with fear, a spirit that gripped our very soul. Jacob cried, “Mommy, I’m scared!” I tried to calm my voice as I attempted to comfort the children God had entrusted to my care, but I too was terrified. What seemed like an eternity lasted only a few minutes, and in those few moments the life as we knew it was turned upside down. The sounds became deafening. The force strong enough to destroy our home, our security, was hovering directly over us. I could hear my Great Grandmother’s heirlooms crashing above. They had become cherished treasures that were over 100 years old and had been passed down to me. Now they were gone in only a matter of seconds. The winds atop us became a landing strip for something much larger than an airplane.
We huddled there shaking, adrenaline racing through our veins like scared rabbits. Ashley asked me if we could pray. Of course! Why had I not thought of that? I hugged them even closer and began to pray for all of us. As I called out to the Lord peace fell upon me and I noticed the noise was slipping away. We sat silent for a few moments. Once I felt it was safe enough to move, I followed a light which brought me to the stairs. The children didn’t want to leave my side, still in a bit of shock. I could feel their little bodies trembling as I held their hands. Because it had been such a hot day and like most of the summer we had gone barefoot; unaware of the dangers ahead. Concerned the kids feet would be cut by all the debris that had made it’s way down to us; I commanded they stay back as I ventured into the unknown territory of the dark basement.
I took inventory of the damage. Quickly, a new fear began to rise up as I took note of the collapsed walls lying on the stairs. There was broken glass, shredded insulation and black tar all over. Without hesitation, my hands followed the line of the concrete walls as I stepped into the pitch blackness of the next room. Reaching for the phone I took a breath and lifted the receiver. It was silent. I shuffled over to the windows looking for an exit. The only available window was covered with debris. With each direction I took, the kids and the dog followed me like a shadow. My legs began to feel weak. And I’m certain my face could no longer hide the fear that had consumed me. The kids began to holler for help but I hushed them trying to think of what to do next. My mind was so overwhelmed. Thoughts filled my mind of the neighbors who only moments prior had waved a friendly hello. Had others survived? Or was our home the only victim? Did they have enough time seek shelter? Why didn’t a siren go off? How bad was the damage? Oh Lord, what about my husband? Is he okay? I could no longer contain the energy that welled up inside of me. Fear like I had never known took over and lifted my head toward the caved in walls as I began to scream for help. “Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me? Help us please!” There was a noise by one of the windows and before we knew it some of our neighbors were peeking in.
Those were some of the most precious faces I had seen. They offered to dig us out through the fallen walls, so we could climb out via the staircase. However, I began to feel a sense of claustrophobia; and insisted we’d climb out through the window instead. Obviously, I was not thinking rationally. But they were kind and understanding and removed the glass as best as they could. The children and I moved a table and placed it beneath the window. I helped to lift each one onto the table as the neighbors gathered them into their arms. The baby I was carrying was definitely aware of what was happening and as another surge of adrenaline ran through me, he turned and kicked. I carefully climbed onto the table and assessed the situation and wondered how I could fit through this window measuring only two and half feet by one foot. Again the neighbors suggested they dig me out, but I was determined to make it work. I began to slide head first, belly up. Their strong, but gentle hands covered my abdomen, trying to keep the baby safe as they moved me through the window. The sight of the blue skies as I slid out the window was a wonderful relief, until I saw the devastation.
What once was forest behind our home was now minimized to sheer match sticks. I looked to my left and to my right. No longer could I contain my composure as I couldn’t recognize anything around me. Tears began to flow at the sudden realization of how close we were to death! The sight around us was unbelievable, like a bomb had gone off. I could see devastation for miles around me. And my home, our sanctuary and the things we grew to love were now gone. I looked at the kids and they were unharmed, yet they were crying too. How much can they comprehend? An awareness of what truly mattered came over me. Kneeling down I wrapped my arms around them and thanked God for his love and protection. A neighbor opened his home to us while they gathered other survivors. The whistling of the gas meters penetrated the eerie silence of the neighborhood. Good Samaritans whom I had never met came to our side, each one doing whatever was needed in order to help those in need. One lady had a deep cut in her leg; someone drove her to the hospital. Other Samaritans were shutting off the leaking meters, while others searched homes. I felt for those who would be returning home from work to find nothing left.
The destruction was amazing. Home after home, life after life, affected by this storm. In the distance we heard police sirens and ambulances, as well as helicopters overhead. I couldn’t sit helpless, although my body told me otherwise. In a crude attempt to grasp some sense of control, I began to gather as much as I could from the rubble. Just about everything was covered in insulation, tar, dirt, nails and rain. Several people attempted to get me to relax and sit, but I was determined desiring to feel in control in an uncontrollable situation. What I failed to realize was that being in control is simply an illusion; there is only One who is in control. People came from the area wanting to see the damages to the neighborhood. A woman stopped by asking if there was anyone she could call. I gave her a couple of numbers and thanked her, wishing I could offer more than my feeble thank you’s. I was skeptical that she would be able to get through…all the telephone lines in the area were down.
Shortly, I saw a figure walking down the street that looked familiar. It was my husband, Cohlyn. Suddenly he caught sight of our car in the driveway and sprinted toward us. He explained that he had gotten a call from his boss who also lived in Plainfield and told him to get home as soon as possible. He and another co-worker drove home as quickly as they could. They first went to the co-worker’s house thinking the kids and I were at the doctor’s office. Once he saw the car sitting in the driveway his heart hit the ground. He ran to me and wrapped his arms around me. I lost it again. Anyone who knows him, knows he has a quick sense of humor. With tears in his eyes, he lifted my chin and said, “Hey, now you can get those new kitchen cabinets you wanted.”
He and others were conversing about what had taken place when I saw my father in law running down the street. My In-laws had seen the news report and immediately jumped into their car. The drive was difficult, roads were blocked and traffic was impossible. Once they got to our neighborhood, the police had blocked off the streets entering into the subdivision. So they parked their car and walked the rest of the way. Because the wind had torn down many of the street signs it was difficult for them to navigate. They knew our street was the last one in the neighborhood so they kept pushing along. They felt a sense of relief as many homes they passed were still standing. Once they reached our street, it appeared to be in fairly good condition, that is until they reached the middle of the street and saw where our house once stood. Our home was the first house on our side of the street to be leveled. Like Cohlyn, his parents raced the rest of the way.
It was a huge relief seeing them coming to our side. Not long after that Cohlyn’s uncle pulled up in his truck. By some small miracle he was allowed to drive onto our street. I began to tell the story of what had occurred and as I did, I turned and saw what was left of Jacob’s room. His little toy box was crushed. I began to cry realizing that only moments prior he had been playing in that very spot. It was truly a miracle we were all still alive. Cohlyn’s family was gracious enough to open their home to us. We can never repay all they have done for us. Not just during that time, but through many of life’s challenges.
There are so many memories from that day and the months that followed, and I know there will be many more nights around the kitchen table where we will continue to exchange stories about the day of the tornado. I will continue to talk about how blessed we were that day when God watched over us and gave us much grace in the midst of the storm.
Yesterday I spent over an hour at Hobby Lobby looking for the ‘perfect’ floral arrangement for my newly painted bedroom. With a tight budget I needed to be frugal and a pre-made arrangement was out of the question. Engaging my creativity was a must. The first stop was the vase isle. There were glass vases, metal vases, porcelain vases, and clay vases in just about every shape and size; except the shape and size I had in mind. So, I ventured around the store to see if I could find a hidden treasure. Have you ever been to Hobby Lobby? Personally, I can easily spend an entire day there allowing my imagination to wander. Distractions were everywhere. I stopped and investigated the fabrics, furniture, frames and various knick knacks. As I circled around the store there was still no vase to be found. I came upon the floral section and began looking at the silk flowers. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t begin my arrangement without the proper container. Once again I moseyed about the store and found myself in the clearance isle. It had things marked down 80%. Many things were missing parts or broken. Some were just plain ugly, but I was determined and continued my quest. The shelves were disorganized and it was hard to find anything without moving objects from one shelf to another; behind an assortment of frames stood my hidden prize; the ‘perfect’ vase. I quickly turned it over to see the price tag. It was only five dollars. But why was it marked down so low? Sure enough there was one long crack running down part of its exterior. Others may have overlooked the potential for a vase with a crack, but I was thrilled with my treasure. It was just perfect. Quickly I made my way back to the floral section where I began creating the task at hand. Afterward as I walked to the check-out counter I thanked the Lord for his favor.
Today while applying my makeup, I couldn’t help but think of God’s grace. While others may see a cracked vase, he always sees the potential of something beautiful. It is like God to take the things that the world throws away and use them for his good and perfect will.
Though my vase may never hold water, or be worth much to others; it serves a much better purpose- a reminder that God uses cracked people and turns those cracks into something beautiful.
At the time of this post, something strange has happened. I took the above photo of the floral arrangement I made with the cracked vase. As I went to photograph it I looked for the crack, thinking it would be of more interest in the picture. However, I cannot find the crack. Even when removing the flowers the crack seems to have ‘disappeared.’ Coincidence or is this simply another reminder of how the Lord cleanses us from our sins and we become a new creation in Christ? You decide. J
The morning frost stirred so I quickly grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around my shoulders. The warmth quickly settled the chill and put to rest the shiver deep within. I was grateful for the balm of the fabric, soft and plush yet my fingers, still exposed, ached from the cold.
I am a blanket girl; I love to be warm and cozy. Even growing up on warm spring and summer days I would grab my mother’s crocheted afghan and wrap it completely around until I was cocooned all snug. My step-father was always perplexed by how I could stay hidden on such warm days. I have always loved my blankets, and the older I have grown the more dependent I have become on them.
Yet some blankets can be very deceiving. They are not nearly as warm as they appear and only offer a measly morsel of protection against the frigid air. They wear the title of blanket but are simply a piece of thin fabric. Yet we grab for them just the same. I have found with such blankets a need to layer them in order to feel the warmth. Yet, isn’t it interesting that blankets themselves do not offer warmth (unless electric) rather they simply keep the warmth in that is already there?
Joy is like that. It comes from the inside and works its way out, though so often we try to heat our souls from the outside in; and for those whose joy has all but dried up one blanket is never enough. Many of us have put on faux ‘joy blankets.’ They come in many shapes and colors; appearing to be warm to the soul only to leave us bone aching cold. We shiver so we add another layer and another and another. Before we know it, the weight of the blankets become heavy and burdensome and we are bogged down.
“You do not know what you ask, refining is painful.”
I asked again, Lord please refine me.
He was right I did not know what I was asking. How could I? Does a student fully understand the lesson before it has been taught?
With each equation of the refining process a new layer from the faux ‘joy blanket’ pile was removed, one after another. Those blankets had been my security for such a very long time. I had hidden underneath them for so long that I simply forgot what I was hiding from. So when I laid there bare and exposed, the blankets all gone, I found myself shivering under the elements of the harsh reality of a heart longing for joy, full of insecurities. My heart raw and transparent; completely wide open; open and frail and though it hurt looking into the eyes of my insecurities; it also was in that place that God began to work; to reconstruct, to heal. I looked long and hard into the pain that I had covered for so long, that I tried to shield, and realized that even pain had become comfortable. But God removes us from ‘comfortable’ when we ask to be refined; and in the refiner’s fire he does not stand outside watching, instead he is there with us in the fire protecting us from being completely consumed and all the while he is catching our tears. Our tears he gathers and uses and I find great comfort in knowing that not one is lost. Not one tear has gone unnoticed.
I went through a period of wondering what would become of me since I stopped layering, for layering had lost its charm; it too had been exposed and laid bare. So I waited, grasping at simple trust; reaching for a good God who gives good gifts, even in the midst of fire. Though smoke threatens to choke, it is his voice that directs me to safety.
I felt much like Forrest Gump when he stopped running. In the movie, Forrest Gump, Forrest had been running and running for months. One day, he decided it was time to stop. In the middle of the desert wilderness he simply stopped. I felt like Forrest, somewhat lost, tired and ready to stop running, to stop layering, and so I too stopped. I asked God, “Now what?”
“What did Forrest do?”
He turned and he went back home.
“Yes, he turned and went back home.”
If home is where the heart is, my home needed some attention. Thankfully, the Lord is the best housekeeper and organizer when it comes to things of the heart. So I invited him in to show me more. He revealed that he had removed the blankets but wanted to replace them with authenticity, a warming of the depths which rises to the surface.
He opened my closet door and pointed to my stack of blankets which were folded ever so neatly.
“Joy is not found in the cloaks or blankets you wear or keep. There is no spiritual osmosis for Joy. Joy does not come from the outside, but rises from deep within. Circumstances will try to rob you, drowning the voice that whispers faith. Trust in my GOODNESS and this will give life to Joy. Distraction tries to blind you from the gifts I give you; there are gifts even in the pain. Fear will scream that I cannot be trusted, do not listen to that lie! Remember me in all things, and in all things you can know that it is by grace and love that I give. Nothing comes to you without first being sifted by my hands. It is all grace; it is all good, even when your feelings say otherwise. In knowing this, you can give praise, you can offer gratitude. And in that place you find JOY, genuine warmth for the soul.”
****************************************************** To date I wish I could say I LIVE JOY. It seems I find it one minute and the next it has slipped away, so elusive. It is like the flutter of the whisper of God, and I am not certain it can be fully captured. But I now find peace in recognizing that I know where it lives and how to find my way back home to it again. Joy can be found yet it is a precious gem, a treasure to hold dear and close, something to be sought after. Much like the pearl, it is through abrasion that we often find it. And when the insecurities rise up their ugly heads again, I can now know that it is in trusting God in ALL things and with a grateful heart that I will find the truest treasure of all, a great pearl, one to cherish- JOY, a blanket for the soul.
"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with THANKSGIVING, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard you hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." ~ Philippians 4:4-6
"You will show me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy, at Your right hand there are pleasures forevermore." Psalm 16:10-11
I was convinced I would NOT have another pet again. After having my new custom sofa chewed to pieces and a hole torn in the middle of my handmade quilt from two half crazed dogs, I was once and for all ready to give up the title of ‘pet owner.’ And I did. But a year or two later standing at a local shelter a little fuzz face melted my heart. Who could resist the little tufts of fur atop of his fluffy head, and those eyes like little moons of emotion? This mama’s hard exterior was soon made soft and before I knew it, I was once again headed for the title...
If you'd like to read the rest of this entry and more Lessons from Shadow: Learning about God through the eye of a dog, please visit my new blogsite @
