Tag Archives: women

Where my trust is without borders…..

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 We all know the words to this song, it’s beautiful, and I sing it with a strong determination to do those things that are out of my comfort zone. For the past few days I’ve been praying for not so little lion boy. Actually , I should write a book titled just that…prayers for my little lion boy. It’s a subject that I know well, I am good at it, I have years of experience. But today there was something new. I asked for help from my spirit, help me pray, help me ask…show me how to move God’s heart with compassion for me and for my son. And then I heard that familiar song. And a new prayer started to fill up my spirit.

 You call me out upon the waters, the great unknown, where feet may fail

You made me this child’s mommy, an adventure that I could not have fore seen, or dreamed….I may not succeed, and I’m scared.

And there I find you in the mystery, in oceans deep , my faith will stand.

I get down as low as I can, on my face…questions, and pleas for this family, this little guy of mine. And its in those time that I find you, in those desperate, low as I can get…. moments, you give strength to look in the face of faith, and grab it even.

And I will call upon your name, and keep my eyes above the waves, when oceans rise…my soul will rest in your embrace, I am yours, and you are mine.

Just saying your name is the step forward that I need to take, and suddenly I can see beyond the hateful words, and the spitting in anger, the boy wrapped in the blanket under my desk is yours, the same as I am. Your arms are here for both us.

Your grace abounds in deepest waters, your sovereign hand will be my guide, where feet may fail, and fear surrounds me…You’ve never failed, and you won’t start now.

The gift of freedom is mine, and I find it when I am over my head, out of my own understanding. You always answer me, you guide me with wisdom that I can’t pretend to grasp…you speak directly to my spirit when I can’t see the promise of hope. I beat myself up, and you comfort. You have never forgotten, or forsaken me or my little lion boy. We are scared, but sure in the extravagance of your love for us. You are steadfast.

Lead me where my trust is without borders

Help me to see my way through, when love is hidden from sight, and anger and hurt are the headlights in the night….help me to speak kindness, when none is being spoken to me. Help me to trust even when the ground I’m standing on is crumbling. When my soul is being torn to shreds, help me to reach out beyond my borders to hold his hand. I am your daughter, and I am his mother….I am yours, and he is yours. We belong to you, treasures to be mended. I pray that you are moved to intercede for my family, and so many others. Lead us into the terrain, the deep waters, the magic woods, that are our children…and as we call you, show us which path to take.

                                                                                                                                                                                      Amen

 

Truth and dirt.

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ImageSometimes I have a piss poor attitude. Don’t get me wrong, it’s justified. That doesn’t make it right. I am giving ownership of the afore mentioned attitude to Jesus. I have to. It’s toxic. I have been so stressed out over every little decision that my kids are making lately, that I literally have an ulcer. That is not abundant life. That’s BULL. And now, I  have to give credit where credit is due…Erin had such a timely word this week ! She said that the Lord had showed her that she was no longer the blossoms on the tree, but that she was the root system now…growing deep underground. As she spoke, I envisioned what she was saying…my mind could see and even smell the dark, rich soil where the roots are growing, and spreading through. It was beautiful and revealing. There is a season of flowering, but it gives way to a time of maturing, of standing strong. I have given my kids all my attention, all my heart, and now I have to trust that the Father is holding them. I don’t want to squeeze the life out of them, I want to hold on loosely. Now is the time for me to enjoy, my root system is in place….the sweet fragrance of the deep is all around….aaahhh.

The Key.

esther

A rendering of Queen Esther

Where to start this morning…Which way to go….there are so many things I could say ! It is TRUE, my story has been the key to unlocking so many of yours ! I stand amazed at the way God works, even now. Your individual stories touch me, and keep my heart soft. Your words of love and encouragement open my eyes to the fact that God is indeed restoring my lost years. Not just the years of my youth, but the years spent believing lies about myself. So…I will start here today. I am still asking the Lord to show me the truth about myself. Who am I ? What do you want from me ? What character am I in your story ? These questions roll through my mind.

We got up early, and made it to the first service this past Sunday. It was not a great morning in our house, there were bad hair days, dirty fingernails, and wayward dogs. Use your imagination, there might have been some yelling. It didn’t matter, we were going ! And I am so glad that we did. As I stood,  arms raised in worship of the one who is presently saving me, a gentleman came over and spoke to my husband and I. He said that as he looked over at me that God had said, ” Queen Esther ” , he said that my willingness to be vulnerable and truthful about my life would save generations. Thomas and I were both crying. We thanked him for coming over, and then I thanked God for giving me a glimpse of Who I am. When I posted my story I had a vision of freeing my daughters, and my granddaughter…but God has spoken of other women, and their daughters…generations,outside of my immediate family. Amazing. Queen Esther was an orphan, and I have been as well. At first Esther did not want to intercede on behalf of her people to the king, she was afraid. In Esther 4:14 Mordecai ( Esther’s Uncle ) gives her this advice…If you keep silent now, relief and deliverance will rise for your people from some other place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Who knows ? Perhaps you have come into the kingdom for such a time as this !  Esther took her time, she fasted, and gained favor with God, and when the time was right, she shared her story, and unlocked freedom for the Jews.  I believe that is true for all of us. Don’t keep silent to save your foolish pride, tell your story, become the heroine, unlock your future with your past. God has handed you the key.

the story.

It had been going on for weeks….his flirting, his kindness, his deception.  He listened intently when I spoke, and stood up for me when some other silly high schooler  made a joke at my expense.  It is only now, as a 40 year old wife and mother that I recognize what my 14 year old self was feeling…safe.  His attention made me feel safe, and entirely different from my normally unsure, just on the outside of the popular crowd, girl that I actually was.  He was 17, and larger than life. A junior, a football player…Mr. Popular.  In my small country school everyone knew him, or feared him, or wanted to be known by him.  He had a girlfriend, one of the elite, a cheerleader. I was sure that she would be fine when he broke up with her, she would bounce right back…she had everything.  If only I could have seen around corners.

                                             I remember him saying – you need to invite me over sometime when your mama isn’t there, so we can work all this out.  I was so happy. He liked me. This was going to be the day that he chose me.  And so when my mom left that evening, I called him. Then he was there, in my driveway, in my living room….in my bedroom, that he just had to see.  In the space of a few minutes I realized that his plan, and my plan looked drastically different. Physically, he was bigger, and stronger, and suddenly pushy. Mentally, I was struggling, and strained to get back that feeling of safety that I had thought he offered me.  It was gone, and so was my innocence. And then …so was he.  I believe now, that I was in shock, I was shaking, and shaken.   I gave him time to get home, and then I called him, crying ” what have we done?”  He told me then that he was never going to break up with his girlfriend, and then he hung up on me. I cried myself to sleep, broken open. Surely, at school he would be different.

                                  Morning came, and I walked through the halls searching the faces for his. There he was, standing by the water fountain with a group of friends. I gathered all the courage that the 14 year old me had, and walked over. He grinned at his friends, then bent and filled his mouth with water. He raised his head from the fountain, and spit all over me, covering my shirt. He walked away laughing. I walked away a ghost, where a girl had been.

                       All of his friends knew, and then his girlfriend. And she laid out a battle plan to make me miserable. If she only could have known…I was already in misery. She had her friends call me names, spit on me, throw things at me…classic bullying. It got so bad that my 2 best friends told me that they could not be seen with me anymore, the ridicule was running off onto them, and they just couldn’t take it. I did not blame them.  I began to eat my lunch in the office, the cafeteria was too close to hell on earth. I was utterly alone. I wanted to die, but I remember thinking…I don’t know how. I don’t know how to die. I know now that I was being held by the most sacred love, but at the time I felt a nagging inside of me all the time. I changed schools several times before eventually dropping out. And for so many years that brought such shame, and sadness for what I could’ve been. The girl that was me was gone, and had to be grieved. I just found that out.

                                 I spent the next several years looking for someone to love me, and make me feel safe. At the ripe old age of 20, I started an affair with a married man, and then I became his second wife. The lies that I believed about myself were all being confirmed, I was never good enough to be first, I was dirty, shameful, unworthy.  My new husband did not know the Lord, but he was kind to me.  He saved my life. And when we had been married for a year and a half THE LORD SAVED HIM ! He was a new creation. We have been married 18 1/2 years now, and it is still growing and changing. As I realize where I am fractured, and where the lies that I have believed have caused decay…even in my beautiful marriage, even in my parenting of my beautiful children….I start to heal, and hear the truth about myself.  I believed that I was ugly, the Lord says I’m beautiful in an epic way (still trying to figure that one out), I believed that no one could ever really love me, the Lord says I am worth extravagant love ! My husband is the best example of this, but also my kids. I did tell my almost 14 year old this story. I was scared, and ashamed…but she cried and held me as if she knew the 14 year old me, we grieved together, and are stronger for it.

             I had to pull all of this up, and sort it out. I had been naïve, mislead, and bullied…the worst part was, that I was still letting it happen as a grown woman.  I am new, resurrected…a better wife, and a better mom. A better daughter.  I know it was long, I hope it brought light.

 

Pen to paper.

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Before I can tell my story , I have to write it. I put pen to paper yesterday, and the memories came rushing back. Tiny details that might seem so unimportant ran down my cheeks while I wrote. I had no idea how hard it would be to dig my history up and pick it apart like a scavenger . But it’s worth it, I’m finding out just exactly who I am . The Lord has called me wholehearted, and that is what I’m becoming.

Story telling…

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What is it about story telling ? We do it as parents, its sweet and filled with sweetness, or mystery! And we do it as friends…as a way of connecting with one another. We sure do a lot of it as moms. Get a group of moms together, and you will hear a ton of stories about the battle, the potty, the hood (the motherhood, that is)….the struggle.

              It is important to share our stories on a primal level for women. It is imperative for our survival, we need tribes. Simple. We were not meant to do this alone. And yet so many of us do. I am so guilty of this, of wrapping myself up in my home, my world, my kids, my blanket of lonliness. I recognize it. Yesterday, I started the process of sharing my story and felt so much love and courage from the ladies who read it. And then last night, I crashed. My family went to the gym, and I stayed home. I sat and cried. It was true , just like my new friend Rhonda said…you have to grieve the past. I don’t know how many times I might just break down and cry, but I know that I am not alone in it.

   What does it look like when we stop choosing the stories we tell, and start telling the whole truth ?  Who will it affect ? Mostly us. The power of testimony. That’s the superhero power that I choose.

Yesterday morning I stopped running from my broken heart.

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  Yesterday morning I stopped running from my broken heart. Yeah, that. The process got started at the women’s retreat last weekend, and I don’t know when it will be complete. But I am not running. My broken heart really started when I was 14 years old. My daughter will turn 14 in a couple of months, and it has been like a nightmare that causes me to twist and turn, and tear up my sheets at night.  What I know is that you won’t actually die from your broken heart, but the ways you find to cope with it on a daily basis, and the ground you lose in your battle to be your REAL you…could kill you. So, I woke up yesterday and I looked my husband in the eye and said – you saved my life. I might have thought it a time or two over the last 19 years, but I never said it. So …I opened my mouth, and let the words fall out. And then I cried for that 14 year old girl who was pressured, unsure, scared, pushed around, spit on…left to rot. I thanked God that I was never lost to him, he had marked me, and knew where I was at every turn. I held my daughter and I smelled her hair…she is covered, and I blessed her her spirit with the secrets it takes to be strong. I let my husband hold me while I stood still and felt my broken heart. It hurts. But it is better than pretending that it doesn’t, while you walk around in chains that other people can’t see. The chains were keeping me from doing so many things that I want to do ! My next big step will be to share my story, my broken heart with my daughter. It’s a day I have been dreading, and running from. I will be still with her, I will be who I am, and allow her to see the broken and how it is starting to heal. My story will indeed unlock the chains that have been around my heart holding it together.

Parenting.

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I’ve been trying to figure it out.  I’ve been trying not to shout.  Over complicate, over  simplify ? All I know for sure is that it changes everyday.  Lead with love ? Yes, try to.  Accept all the bull that kids try to throw at you ? No. They have been robbed, born to parents who were robbed…broken world, you get the picture.  The goal, as I see it…would be to figure out what was stolen from you … the parent, and then lean into getting it back.  There will be a price, but it will be worth it to be wholehearted.  With your heart whole and your eyes focused on the kingdom of God in the present tense , you (and by you, I mean me) will be able to fight for your kids, and help them figure out what is missing , their birthright, peace and joy…fullness. It’s my first mission to be wholehearted, and second to parent my kids. Sometimes my husband talks about going somewhere adventurous, and I make it my business to remind him that we are in treacherous terrain everyday ! We are navigating through puberty, modesty, honoring, academics, sports, thirst and hunger of the spirit, not just the body, and an enemy that wants to eat us all alive.  (my dramatic nature is not what I have robbed of, as you can see) Landmines are cleverly disguised as normal teenage life. It’s no joke.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written, there are a ton of legitimate reasons, but the only one that matters is that I did not want to sound desperate, life has thrown a few curve balls at us, and I had to process on my own for a while. It is a new season for us. I am excited, but wise enough to know that even now, during their independent years… my kids need guidance, they need me to be wholehearted so that I can be powerful in my prayers for them.  It’s hard to parent from a place of brokeness.  It makes us cry out in desperation instead of leaning into God, and trusting him.  I have been crying this morning, and for too many years. I am ready to lean.

heart strings.

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Pulled tight, sound sharp.

        stretched to the limit with too much give.

Is there a happy medium ? I would like to say –  since going back to work, but that would not be accurate.  So, I will say, since becoming a mother,  my heartstrings are always out of whack.  Or out of tune, or maybe that’s the way they are supposed to sound.  I’m home today.  Isaiah had his fifth ear surgery,  I’m so grateful that it’s only ear surgery, and I’m so pissed that it is still going on. This boy, this lion of mine, so strong, and still so young. It is impossible that he is about to be Eleven.

At this time of year in particular, I think of Mary. So young, and so strong. With heartstrings too.  My hero. The task of raising a man is hard enough, but raising the KING OF THE WORLD, knowing that you would let him go,  for love.  Gets me every time.

There are days when I am so confused, so heartbroken, so overwhelmed with all that we have on our plates. I hate those days, and I love those days.  It’s on those days that Abba whispers….you were made for this.  And so, my heartstrings play their song, a song that, at times does not seem melodious , or soothing , and that has yet to resolve the dissonance, but it is there, the song that my children respond to.  It’s why they snuggle me, seek me out, reach for my hand. It’s the song. It can be  sweet, out of tune and  with clashing harmonies at times, but it is ours. We were made for this.

 

All parts of the whole.

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Months ago I was part of planning a women’s retreat. I was happy to be asked to help, so I said yes, even though, I didn’t really feel like I had anything to offer. As it turned out my hob was purchasing stones from a craft store, and writing words on them. Not just words…names. Names that our Father calls us by, even though we may not recognize them. I see it as ….leaning into your name. For most of us, it takes practice. Back to the story. I bought the stones, not really feeling that inspired. But, as I started to pray for help, it came. My help came in the form of some very special names for these stones. I started to realize the power in , simply asking. I noticed one of the stones was shaped like a heart. THIS inspired me. The Lord said…wholehearted, thats what this rock will say. I thought it was remarkable. I was actually envious of the woman who would choose this rock, the woman that would have her Father look upon her, and call her name WHOLEHEARTED.

The night before the retreat the ladies and I gathered for an intimate time of sharing. We decided to pull our stones early, and pray for each other. I told them about the heart shaped one, and how my excitement was building to see the woman that would choose it. We all close our eyes ( at least I did), and prayed. These ladies , each so special, with open hearts, and ears…silently picked my rock for me. wholehearted.  I was wrecked, and tried in my own power to figure out all that it meant. There was some healing that took place inside me that weekend, but God is always working in the big picture, and I usually, am not. Just when I thought I had it figured out…..I listened to a beautiful talk the other day on my lunch break. In my car. With tears streaming down my face, he revealed more.

The talk was given by a lady named Brene Brown. She is a researcher, and a storyteller. She spent six years gathering data, and stories about Connection. Interestingly enough ,all of the stories of connection had a whole to do with shame, and heartbreak. It became evident that there were two groups of people, the ones with valid connections, and the ones who were always seeking connection, but never quite finding what they were looking for. The only difference she could find after examining her data over and over….the ones with true connections believed that they were WORTH loving, and knowing, the others simply….did not. She typed up this data, and she put it in a folder. On the front of the folder she wrote…Wholehearted. Do you see why I was crying over my chick-fil-a that day ? HE brought it back around, when I had not thought of my name in months, there it was. Revelation.

I have been moaning, lamenting really, my lack of connection. I don’t want to come to a Bible study, and look at all the other people’s connections. I want to be invited to coffee, to a group of girls’ night out. I was being very picky. What the Lord revealed to me was that I hide who I am, therefore making it impossible for women to make a real connection with me. What ? Me ? Have you read my blog Lord ? He said yes, it doesn’t count. It makes you feel transparent, but it’s not enough. Angie- you have to have enough courage to be vulnerable. I am working on it.

He already calls me, wholehearted. And he knows me better than anyone else. I accept that I will spend the rest of my life living up to the name. I have been blessed with a few women who are courageous enough to be vulnerable with me. Those women amaze me, consistently. I am learning to tell the story of who I am, not on this blog, but in real life.