I just got in from a jaunt around the block. The air was crisp and the purple/pink sky beckoned me forward. I have mentioned before how enthralled I am with nature. I adore the tiny yellow flowers hanging out among the weeds, the sprinkle of purple flowers on the field across the way. It can be so easy to not drink it in... this splendor we have everyday as a buffet, and I am not just talking flowers and trees here. I mean everything. The way the moon and the stars hang in the sky just so, designed by a God who is both extremely detailed and wildly spontaneous. The way music can change the atmosphere, like rediscovering a favorite song not heard for years or watching home movies of different seasons of life....
These months since the move have been a blur. Literally, I remember bits and pieces, highlighted by the continual walk forward through the changes. My heart has been broken, bound back together, broken again, and stirred up to a tenderness I can't fully convey. I've always been highly sensitive. As I grew up family members would chastise me and tell me to not be so sensitive, and I became an adult who believed it was wrong to feel so very much. In my short 11 years of walking with the Lord He has revealed to me that this sensitive spirit comes from Him, and that tenderness is what enables me to love and raise children not born of my flesh, it has brought me to a place of intense awareness of the atmosphere around me, and it allows me to really, really feel what others are feeling. Here's the thing: when we ask Papa for something He gives it to us. So, asking Him to break my heart for what breaks His, to sing songs of love and to declare "Lord, I will go to the ends of the earth if you want me to" means that I can live in expectation that He will surely bring me to those things.
If we belong to Him, fully, exclusively, sins and all, then how can we have anything but hearts that are so open and true? Do we ignore the homeless man who rides up on a bicycle asking for $1 for something to eat at a nearby KFC, or do we roll down our window and ask what we can get for him?
Do you notice him? Do you see him the way God does? Do you love him, without knowing anything about him? Can you feel his heartbeat? Does your desire to bless him outweigh your desire to develop those photos on your USB or get your Starbucks fix?
Do you love him?
Because that is important. More important then making it to service on Sunday, more important then that church bake sale, more important then what is on the DVR.
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
Matthew 25:40
Does your heart break for the people around you, especially when they are unlovable? What about when the person asking something of you does not fit the Christian mold of today? What if she is a prostitute? What if he is a drug addict? What if they come to YOUR church building dirty and smelling of booze? Will you honor him or her? Will you give them the best seat in the house, or would you turn your head, whisper to your friends, content in the suburban Christianity that you call yours? This is important. Are you Jesus in your sphere? Do people know they can call you, text you, send a telegram for prayer anytime? Are you a life line for anyone? Are you reading all the hot Christian books and posting quotes on Twitter or Facebook, but not really living out the life you are called to when you surrender to Jesus?
These are questions I must frequently ask myself. I know my flaws well. I know my irritations, my fleshy desires that demand my attention. I know how easy it is to feel apathetic especially being chronically ill. However, that is not how I am called to live.
Lately I have been going through rather extensive reflection process. I've dug out some old VHS tapes and it has been entirely surreal to watch myself...
at 21 years old bungee jumping...
at 20 having alcohol for the first time at a party with schoolmates from junior high and high school...
at 17 during my high school graduation....
at 16 having a birthday party and feeling so insecure about being videotaped... I had forgotten how much I hated having my picture taken back in those days....
and I have not even dived into the childhood footage yet.
But in watching these fragments of time, I can feel the Lord seriously binding up my heart. It's as if these last 2.5 years of crucible have been building up to this accelerated moment of intense love and memory, resulting in a lighter and happier heart.
I watched as my Uncle and Auntie held up my Grandma to dance (she was no longer able to after a stroke and was in a wheelchair) during that birthday party. 7 months after that party she passed away, and God privileged me to be in the room with her when she took her last breath. I still remember her eyes looking heavenward on the days before she passed. She spoke of a chariot, she spoke of "the children." This has absolutely nothing to do with what I am talking about, but it was a sweet moment to discover this footage on tape.
The thing is this: God has all of our days planned.
Have you not put a hedge around him and his household and everything he has? You have blessed the work of his hands, so that his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land.
Job 1:10
He knows His children. He knows YOU. He knows me. He knows what makes us tick and what makes us so happy our hearts could burst. As I drove to the store to get some communion cups (so cool, for the first time ever I took communion by myself at home and plan to once a month since I can't always make it to church) I passed by the spot where an Olive Garden is being built in this town, and I smiled and tears sprang to my eyes. Yes, I believe that God loves me so much, that He knows my heart so much, that He allowed for an Olive Garden to be built here because He knew it would make me happy and that it would make it feel more like "home." God is in the details.
We are taken care of. No matter how deep the crucible.
cru·ci·ble/ˈkro͞osəbəl/
Noun:
A ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures.
A place or occasion of severe test or trial: "the crucible of combat".
That is something that we are told on repeat as believers. It is something we struggle to remember on the very worst of days, and the amazing thing is that even when we don't feel taken care of, we are.
Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?
Matthew 6:26
Over and over in my own life I have witnessed and felt the boldness of God's love. It has come in waves, and other times it has felt so quiet. For a long season I felt like God was hiding His face from me. I did not feel His nearness as I used to and I felt like I must have done something wrong. Full disclosure here: struggling to live in spite of being ill, having my entire world turn upside down, and experiencing my whole identity being stripped and rebuilt.... it's been quite the pickle. It's hard to cling to God when you can't feel Him. The amazing, absolutely beautiful thing is that HE DOES NOT EVER LET GO. Not once, not even for one minute. His hands are not like ours, that start to sweat and slip to hold on. No, no, no. His grip is strong, His love unequivocal.
LORD, you are the God who saves me;
day and night I cry out to you.
May my prayer come before you;
turn your ear to my cry.
I am overwhelmed with troubles
and my life draws near to death.
I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
I am like one without strength.
I am set apart with the dead,
like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more,
who are cut off from your care.
You have put me in the lowest pit,
in the darkest depths.
Your wrath lies heavily on me;
you have overwhelmed me with all your waves.[d]
You have taken from me my closest friends
and have made me repulsive to them.
I am confined and cannot escape;
my eyes are dim with grief.
I call to you, LORD, every day;
I spread out my hands to you.
Do you show your wonders to the dead?
Do their spirits rise up and praise you?
Is your love declared in the grave,
your faithfulness in Destruction[e]?
Are your wonders known in the place of darkness,
or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?
But I cry to you for help, LORD;
in the morning my prayer comes before you.
Why, LORD, do you reject me
and hide your face from me?
From my youth I have suffered and been close to death;
I have borne your terrors and am in despair.
Your wrath has swept over me;
your terrors have destroyed me.
All day long they surround me like a flood;
they have completely engulfed me.
You have taken from me friend and neighbor—
darkness is my closest friend.
Psalm 88
I am still in the crucible, the path is still dim, and yet MY GOD, He is unfailing. He listens to my pleas, He scoops up my teardrops, He consoles, He binds up a heart that aches. He IS.
In 2007 I burned all 84+ journals I kept in the trunk by my bed after Papa whispered to my heart: "I don't keep a record of your sins, why do you?" My record of my life from 12 years to 27. And then when I moved here last year I burned about 15 more. I kept certain entries, and earlier this week I re-read through them, and in that something began to change in my spirit. I read my entries from my 2 weeks in the Philippines and my soul awoke again. I remembered.
I started to know myself again.
These last years have been like Alice falling into the rabbit hole...
and lately it feels like instead of falling through darkness....
there is a little light...
as I cling to Truth:
and one day I know I will no longer be falling and instead be sitting by His stream of peace.
In other news: I have decided to stop taking Xanax. I believe it is an effective medication, and it has helped me so much. One reason is that I don't have a doctor here yet and so I have no pain or anti-anxiety meds (except for what my precious friend has generously shared, bless her heart) but mainly it is because it seems to have the opposite effect now. I find that it calms my anxiety (which is happening less frequently these days! Yay!)but afterwards I either get extremely depressed or fly into a rage. No thank you to both of those.
I have had a left temple/eyeball migraine for the last 4 nights. It plays peek-a-boo and lends itself to insomnia, even after taking Melatonin. I think the culprit was the Pepsi I drank 4 nights ago (caffeine is a huge negative for me).
Walking has become a more frequent event, though I usually walk like a snail. Hey, at least I'm out there again. ;) I've been writing a lot more also. Blogging is fun, but for me, nothing beats good old fashioned journaling.
Life is unfolding as it is supposed to. I am hedged in. I am loved. I love. Music is bliss. Creation is marvelous. I am blessed.
I know that Fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, these viral infections, and all the other conditions are going to take lots of work to manage. I know that I have to take it day by day and that I do have extreme limitations, but I also know this....
God is good and He is love.
That's all I need to know.
xoxo
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Precious
So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you. Romans 12:1-2
Yesterday I had some energy (praise the Lord!)for once and I stood there marveling at the difference. With chronic fatigue it feels like living is done underwater 24;7. Case in point, I showered immediately after taking the first batch of medication when I woke up today. I once did this everyday but now it's quite the task. I feel so drained after a simple shower! My revelation is this: sleep is precious. Energy is precious. When I have it it feels like it's a super special day because I get to feel alert, feel alive, feel a part of this world again. The lure of having energy is that it begs to be used up and I often times find myself depleting almost as soon as my body allows some activity.
It's tricky finding a balance. It's hard to slow down when it feels that the key to freedom has been placed in my lap for an afternoon. However, I have realized that my body's natural alarm clock is what I need to adhere to versus one of those annoying, buzzing alarm clocks that interrupt the flow of my body's needs.
It needs rest. It needs sleep. A dear friend said "sleep is medicine." I want to start looking at it that way, instead of "sleep is a waste of time." Aren't I worth it? Aren't I worth taking care of the way I urge fellow sickies to rest? And I mean "real" rest. With sensory overload at all hours of the day, rest does not occur when I watch television or read books. That's a type of recreational rest, but I mean rest in the sense of closing exhausted eyeballs and leaning weary limbs against the chest of my Savior. Being replenished in His peace and stillness. That is mine for the taking, and unfortunately in this day of social media and technology the draw to sitting at His feet is buried beneath Facebook comments and the pull to be connected all of the time to everyone.
Yesterday I was going through the journals that were spared during the "great bonfire burn" of 2007 ;) and I stumbled upon this:
PHOTO HAS BEEN REMOVED.
Wow! I mean, I know I had symptoms as early as 2007 but it was kind of a trip to see it again. It was also a treat to re-read some goals and dreams I carried even 10 years ago. It's ironic but the other day I suddenly had the urge to buy yellow paint. Now, I am not an artist by any means. My ability goes as far as stick figures and even that is iffy business. But this urge, this desire to just get a canvas and go crazy came alive. Yesterday I saw the breathings of my heart scattered on loose sheets of paper and I found a page from 2002 (I was 22) that mentioned learning to paint. What?! I do not remember this. I also have an entry from 2007, sometime after my baby niece and nephew were born, saying that I would like to live in NC one day. How weird!!!! I remember emphatically stating that I would never live here, that my life was in CA. Ha! It reminds me so much that God knows the desires of our hearts even more then I ever could because He put them there. It makes me smile.
Add to that, my friend found some photos I apparently posted on some website between 2006-2008. For some reason I have no recollection of this at all and there are about 100 or so albums with sweet, sweet memories. I thought it would be painful to see them. Reminders of a past that I often times miss, but instead it felt like more of my hurt was being binded. In those photos I saw joy and life and it reminded me of who I am.
On a bad day I want to hide from the world. I want to become a recluse and stop trying. The exhaustion is too much, the pain is too much, I feel overwhelmed with people, giving counsel and receiving counsel, trying.
But a better day comes again and I remember....
I remember purpose. I remember vision. I remember:
"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden." (Matthew 5:14)
and
"If with heart and soul you're doing good, do you think you can be stopped? Even if you suffer for it, you're still better off. Don't give the opposition a second thought. Through thick and thin, keep your hearts at attention, in adoration before Christ, your Master. Be ready to speak up and tell anyone who asks why you're living the way you are, and always with the utmost courtesy. Keep a clear conscience before God so that when people throw mud at you, none of it will stick. They'll end up realizing that they're the ones who need a bath. It's better to suffer for doing good, if that's what God wants, than to be punished for doing bad. That's what Christ did definitively: suffered because of others' sins, the Righteous One for the unrighteous ones. He went through it all—was put to death and then made alive—to bring us to God." (1 Peter 3:13-18)
I remember my call. The higher call.
I'm not sure how I feel about Facebook. A part of me thinks it's evil and should be avoided at all costs. In my life anyway. Where I am at in life right now anyway. The other part of me knows what a valuable tool it has been these years, and rediscovering a part of myself still "alive" on the internet on that picture website last night was quite pleasing, to tell the truth.
It brought back who I am beneath this trial. It reminded me that the plans and the purposes God has for me are still in motion....
even when I have a bad day or two. ;)
Yesterday I had some energy (praise the Lord!)for once and I stood there marveling at the difference. With chronic fatigue it feels like living is done underwater 24;7. Case in point, I showered immediately after taking the first batch of medication when I woke up today. I once did this everyday but now it's quite the task. I feel so drained after a simple shower! My revelation is this: sleep is precious. Energy is precious. When I have it it feels like it's a super special day because I get to feel alert, feel alive, feel a part of this world again. The lure of having energy is that it begs to be used up and I often times find myself depleting almost as soon as my body allows some activity.
It's tricky finding a balance. It's hard to slow down when it feels that the key to freedom has been placed in my lap for an afternoon. However, I have realized that my body's natural alarm clock is what I need to adhere to versus one of those annoying, buzzing alarm clocks that interrupt the flow of my body's needs.
It needs rest. It needs sleep. A dear friend said "sleep is medicine." I want to start looking at it that way, instead of "sleep is a waste of time." Aren't I worth it? Aren't I worth taking care of the way I urge fellow sickies to rest? And I mean "real" rest. With sensory overload at all hours of the day, rest does not occur when I watch television or read books. That's a type of recreational rest, but I mean rest in the sense of closing exhausted eyeballs and leaning weary limbs against the chest of my Savior. Being replenished in His peace and stillness. That is mine for the taking, and unfortunately in this day of social media and technology the draw to sitting at His feet is buried beneath Facebook comments and the pull to be connected all of the time to everyone.
Yesterday I was going through the journals that were spared during the "great bonfire burn" of 2007 ;) and I stumbled upon this:
PHOTO HAS BEEN REMOVED.
Wow! I mean, I know I had symptoms as early as 2007 but it was kind of a trip to see it again. It was also a treat to re-read some goals and dreams I carried even 10 years ago. It's ironic but the other day I suddenly had the urge to buy yellow paint. Now, I am not an artist by any means. My ability goes as far as stick figures and even that is iffy business. But this urge, this desire to just get a canvas and go crazy came alive. Yesterday I saw the breathings of my heart scattered on loose sheets of paper and I found a page from 2002 (I was 22) that mentioned learning to paint. What?! I do not remember this. I also have an entry from 2007, sometime after my baby niece and nephew were born, saying that I would like to live in NC one day. How weird!!!! I remember emphatically stating that I would never live here, that my life was in CA. Ha! It reminds me so much that God knows the desires of our hearts even more then I ever could because He put them there. It makes me smile.
Add to that, my friend found some photos I apparently posted on some website between 2006-2008. For some reason I have no recollection of this at all and there are about 100 or so albums with sweet, sweet memories. I thought it would be painful to see them. Reminders of a past that I often times miss, but instead it felt like more of my hurt was being binded. In those photos I saw joy and life and it reminded me of who I am.
On a bad day I want to hide from the world. I want to become a recluse and stop trying. The exhaustion is too much, the pain is too much, I feel overwhelmed with people, giving counsel and receiving counsel, trying.
But a better day comes again and I remember....
I remember purpose. I remember vision. I remember:
"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden." (Matthew 5:14)
and
"If with heart and soul you're doing good, do you think you can be stopped? Even if you suffer for it, you're still better off. Don't give the opposition a second thought. Through thick and thin, keep your hearts at attention, in adoration before Christ, your Master. Be ready to speak up and tell anyone who asks why you're living the way you are, and always with the utmost courtesy. Keep a clear conscience before God so that when people throw mud at you, none of it will stick. They'll end up realizing that they're the ones who need a bath. It's better to suffer for doing good, if that's what God wants, than to be punished for doing bad. That's what Christ did definitively: suffered because of others' sins, the Righteous One for the unrighteous ones. He went through it all—was put to death and then made alive—to bring us to God." (1 Peter 3:13-18)
I remember my call. The higher call.
I'm not sure how I feel about Facebook. A part of me thinks it's evil and should be avoided at all costs. In my life anyway. Where I am at in life right now anyway. The other part of me knows what a valuable tool it has been these years, and rediscovering a part of myself still "alive" on the internet on that picture website last night was quite pleasing, to tell the truth.
It brought back who I am beneath this trial. It reminded me that the plans and the purposes God has for me are still in motion....
even when I have a bad day or two. ;)
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Processing
I've been doing a lot of thinking. Reading Job again and really, really, really feelin' him. He is so honest about his dark and deep pain. He holds nothing back. He just cries out to God about his agony. I understand that feeling. I understand feeling so bad you wish to have never existed. I also know what it is like to have people try to talk me out of it, who look at me as if I am not as spiritually strong because I am in a crucible of extreme weakness, people who want for me to be the old me, people who have expectations... expectations I used to live to fill.
I'm done with that. My God is a strong God. He is also a God who would rather I fall to my knees before Him with a bleeding, heavy heart versus smile and say all the proper Christian things but be hiding my reality behind closed doors.
Ouch. Did that hurt?
I am still grieving, still processing, still "catching up" as I mentioned in a previous post. I don't have all of the answers. I get in grumpy moods. I am still learning how to manage Fibromyalgia. I am still without doctors here, almost out of prescriptions. I am still missing the child I left behind in CA. I am still IN THE CRUCIBLE.
This is where I need to be.
This is what makes me weak and Him strong. This is what tests my faith, causing me to ask really hard questions of the God who gave His Son for me. Questions about churches, about religion, about worship, about my beliefs. This is what makes Him bigger and me smaller. This is what changes me, rids me of selfishness and pride and arrogance.
Oh, we get through a trial and we think we have it known. I have. God has brought me through so much....
and every single time I know Him more. I feel His heartbeat more. I gain more when I lose. I reach another level of love with Him and I think it can't possibly get any deeper...
and I am wrong each time,
because the levels are limitless. I will never know the fullness because it is a love too vast for me to comprehend. It is infinite. It is pure. And it is constant.
I feel my spirit opening up a little bit each day. I am committing to a home church, I am asking God where He would have me serve, I am being honest with the Pastor and with people I meet about my limitations, I am being reminded that it's not about me but that it also gets to be about me sometimes. I don't always have to take a backseat because sometimes I need to be lifted up too. I used to live on a tightrope. People asked me to listen. People depended on me. It was tiring. I don't want to wear a Christian mask. I don't ever want to care about my status at a church. I don't want to apologize for my broken times, because they are worth everything. They make life sweeter because I can't take it for granted.
My heart is for children. It has been my whole life, but most especially when I got to my teens. Then in my 20's some friends and I created a babysitting ministry at church (a'la The Babysitter's Club), and the Lord laid on my heart to volunteer to babysit for my mentor's children every week so she could have some alone time. From there He entrusted me with a precious ministry where I had the privilege of caring for 5 kids. From those 5 kids He brought more. Our car was always full. My heart was always full.
Tonight at church I was speaking with the Pastor when his little boy trotted over. He stood before me wearing pajamas and these huge yellow earphones. My heart lifted and melted simultaneously. He stared up at me in silence. I pressed his little nose. Love. That's it. My mama heart was instantly on fire.
That's what is missing. For 5 years I had a constant stream of kids. In 2009 it became where I could no longer work and care for the kids on a daily basis, but I still interacted with them and saw the teens every week, and lived with Mylie.
For the first time in about a decade I am not around children. It makes a difference. The call God has on my life includes the mother heart He has given me. It includes interacting with young ones and sharing His love with them.
I'm not sure what that looks like with Fibromyalgia and all of it's limitations, but I am excited to find out.
I also realize I am going to be limiting my text conversations a bit. I've actually been trying to make phone calls when able because it's more personal and I like hearing my friends and family's voices.
Lots swirling around in my heart that I will be praying about.
I am reminded again and again that when I think I know something God is quite ready to show me how little I actually know. ;)
I am glad I can share my heart with Him no holds barred and He loves me even so.
I'm done with that. My God is a strong God. He is also a God who would rather I fall to my knees before Him with a bleeding, heavy heart versus smile and say all the proper Christian things but be hiding my reality behind closed doors.
Ouch. Did that hurt?
I am still grieving, still processing, still "catching up" as I mentioned in a previous post. I don't have all of the answers. I get in grumpy moods. I am still learning how to manage Fibromyalgia. I am still without doctors here, almost out of prescriptions. I am still missing the child I left behind in CA. I am still IN THE CRUCIBLE.
This is where I need to be.
This is what makes me weak and Him strong. This is what tests my faith, causing me to ask really hard questions of the God who gave His Son for me. Questions about churches, about religion, about worship, about my beliefs. This is what makes Him bigger and me smaller. This is what changes me, rids me of selfishness and pride and arrogance.
Oh, we get through a trial and we think we have it known. I have. God has brought me through so much....
and every single time I know Him more. I feel His heartbeat more. I gain more when I lose. I reach another level of love with Him and I think it can't possibly get any deeper...
and I am wrong each time,
because the levels are limitless. I will never know the fullness because it is a love too vast for me to comprehend. It is infinite. It is pure. And it is constant.
I feel my spirit opening up a little bit each day. I am committing to a home church, I am asking God where He would have me serve, I am being honest with the Pastor and with people I meet about my limitations, I am being reminded that it's not about me but that it also gets to be about me sometimes. I don't always have to take a backseat because sometimes I need to be lifted up too. I used to live on a tightrope. People asked me to listen. People depended on me. It was tiring. I don't want to wear a Christian mask. I don't ever want to care about my status at a church. I don't want to apologize for my broken times, because they are worth everything. They make life sweeter because I can't take it for granted.
My heart is for children. It has been my whole life, but most especially when I got to my teens. Then in my 20's some friends and I created a babysitting ministry at church (a'la The Babysitter's Club), and the Lord laid on my heart to volunteer to babysit for my mentor's children every week so she could have some alone time. From there He entrusted me with a precious ministry where I had the privilege of caring for 5 kids. From those 5 kids He brought more. Our car was always full. My heart was always full.
Tonight at church I was speaking with the Pastor when his little boy trotted over. He stood before me wearing pajamas and these huge yellow earphones. My heart lifted and melted simultaneously. He stared up at me in silence. I pressed his little nose. Love. That's it. My mama heart was instantly on fire.
That's what is missing. For 5 years I had a constant stream of kids. In 2009 it became where I could no longer work and care for the kids on a daily basis, but I still interacted with them and saw the teens every week, and lived with Mylie.
For the first time in about a decade I am not around children. It makes a difference. The call God has on my life includes the mother heart He has given me. It includes interacting with young ones and sharing His love with them.
I'm not sure what that looks like with Fibromyalgia and all of it's limitations, but I am excited to find out.
I also realize I am going to be limiting my text conversations a bit. I've actually been trying to make phone calls when able because it's more personal and I like hearing my friends and family's voices.
Lots swirling around in my heart that I will be praying about.
I am reminded again and again that when I think I know something God is quite ready to show me how little I actually know. ;)
I am glad I can share my heart with Him no holds barred and He loves me even so.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Realizations
Gosh, there are so many things I could write about. I could write about the verses I have been drinking in with my eyes, so greedy for more. I could write about the grip of depression that comes with resisting to accept Fibromyalgia. I could write about the anger that surges and explodes at the most inopportune times. I could write about how it annoys me that when I type out Fibromyalgia it had a red line underneath. I could write about the little things- like going to McDonald's and feeling like I was on the Vegas strip on just the one road I once considered "homely." Back than I was settled in my California roots, busy was a fact of life, and anything quiet seemed slow. Arrogant me! Ha! The stimulation of the other cars, all the lights, sounds, movement... it's way too fast for me now. Such a treat to even ride along in the car to go through a drive-thru. It's always surreal being out among people. Being holed up and easily (over) affected by everything makes for social phobia from me, the once social bee. And it becomes so much more about enduring then about living despite trying to live normally. That's the thing- I'm not "normal."
I don't say that in a degrading way or in a way to put myself down. I say that because it is crucial that I understand my limitations and accept them. These last years have been frought with change. I feel like I am playing catch-up of all of it... death, moving a few times, leaving Mylie, leaving California, their divorce and how that changed the home we all shared, losing friends, losing my job, losing my independence, losing my car and most of all Fibromyalgia whipping me around with great intensity.
I could write about so much but the truth is I am not ready to. God is speaking to my heart, showing me areas of sin and rebellion and flesh, purging me, strengthening feeble hands and feet. Feet that long to stop moving towards Him. To stop altogether. The hopelessness has permeated just as deep as the greatest joys have.
I feel.
And I wait.
I yearn to accept, grasp, fully know, walk in my current lifestyle.
But I don't know what that is yet.
I haven't let go of yesterday. That image of a healthy, strong me. But right now I feel like life is a blur. I forget each day, I forget conversations, I forget details. The most vivid memories are the ones I had right before I got sick. Now it's all just a stream of color and sound rushing out out me. I have been bleak. I have been down and out. I look at blogs where people post only the highs of life and not the lows. That's not real. We need the dark to make the light shine so bright. We need to admit the brokenness so others understand the beauty of restoration.
So I speak the truth....
I am mad.
I am depressed.
I am furious, actually.
I am dark.
I am dismal.
Not all of the time.
I also smile.
I also laugh.
I also get hopeful.
But mainly I grieve.
And in this grief comes healing. Not all at once, but it pours over me when it comes.
I feel no shame in saying that I am depressed. This has been a crazy, whirlwind of the last 2 years. This pain is drawing me close to the heart of God, back where I need to be. This hurt is blinding, and it is devastating. It's also a part of accepting how my life has changed.
I strived really long to stay "the same". For who? For others, but for myself too.
Who wants to be sick? I liked my role. I liked being "Mama Moon." I liked being strong. I liked being busy. I found out really fast who my friends were when I got sick. Which relationships were one-sided. They ended as soon as I stopped pursuing them. But I'm still learning. I still have trouble with boundaries. I still find myself feeling the responsibility to pursue, to be the "good friend."
People have actually told me that I am no longer fun, that I am mean now, and that I have changed. All a blow to my spirit, but it's true. I have changed. I am still changing. And I am okay with that now. Because it means in my imperfection God still thinks I am worth molding. He still finds something He can use despite the weak limbs and aching bones.
A willing heart.
He asks that of me.
Do I have a willing heart?
Not 3 years ago when I went to the Philippines.
Not 7 years ago.
Not even yesterday.
Today.
Right now.
Am I willing?
A huge chunk of this is about Facebook. Oh, the love/hate relationship we have. My flesh loves Facebook. Loves it. Back in the days when I had my original account I posted numerous photos. My daily life with the kids and with friends. I was immersed in it. But back then I also had real life, thriving relationships. I met with friends for Bible study, movies, Starbucks, dinner. I went to ballet recitals and Girl scout trips and parent days at school. I worked everyday. Life was full.
Sometime over the course of when I first got sick-sick and now I have come to rely on Facebook as the main source of my relationships. This would not be a bad thing had I already grappled fully with being ill and what that means and accepted it all.
I have not.
Frequently I feel conviction in my spirit with Facebook, but my flesh justifies it. My support group is on there, family, so and so's new baby.... etc. This is my struggle alone. It is not about an obsession with Facebook or time wasted. I know the positives. I know it is a valuable tool. I love that it has enabled me to connect with old friends, especially after Fibro and the move cross country. I love that I have met amazing people from other countries and states. I love how I can constantly be in touch with five hundred "friends." But it is a hindrance to my healing. God has spoken to my heart countless times, and I have been disobedient. I have not yielded this area to Him. Who am I to ask why He is calling me to give it up? I know it is so most especially by how the idea of it horrifies me. To not have Facebook is like social suicide in the normal world, let alone the Fibromyalgia one.
Again, not everyone shares this conviction. It is mine alone. I don't know if I am being called away for a season or for good, but eventually I am going to have to silence my flesh and take that step of faith forward. Right now being on Facebook prevents me from facing the true isolation of Fibromyalgia, of being without Mylie in my daily life, of having moved. It creates a false sense of what was, and so I am not letting go of the past and moving forward into where God would have me.
I am stuck.
I also feel a conviction about how Facebook is complete self-propaganda. I remember how I would post photos of myself all the time. It's like the me, me, me show. I never had a vain heart while doing it, but to reflect back on that makes me cringe. Verses about not keeping a record of sins, about not coveting, etc. come to mind at random times. I think about my girls who started their Facebook profiles at 14 years old or younger. When they are 25 will they really want to go back and look at the old ways they lived? Not in some fond memory land but a real place of recorded conversations and immaturity? Also seeing everyone else's highlight reel is prone to adding to the inadequate feelings of being 31 and disabled.
Basically Facebook has become a place for me to stay fixated on the past, or fixated on the life I no longer live. It links me to people I should have said goodbye to a very long time ago and it promotes time away from God. It is far too easy to forget the sweetness of being in the Word when I am constantly plugging into hundreds of lives with the click of a button.
When God called me out here, it was with this scripture:
God's Message came to me: "Son of man, you're living with a bunch of rebellious people. They have eyes but don't see a thing, they have ears but don't hear a thing. They're rebels all. So, son of man, pack up your exile duffel bags. Leave in broad daylight with everyone watching and go off, as if into exile. Maybe then they'll understand what's going on, rebels though they are. You'll take up your baggage while they watch, a bundle of the bare necessities of someone going into exile, and toward evening leave, just like a person going off into exile. As they watch, dig through the wall of the house and carry your bundle through it. In full sight of the people, put the bundle on your shoulder and walk out into the night. Cover your face so you won't have to look at what you'll never see again. I'm using you as a sign for the family of Israel."
Ezekiel 12:1-6
It was crisp and clear and direct. But it wasn't the time. He gave me that scripture to marinate on and to prepare my heart for the following year (2011) when He would split me from my old life, take me from Mylie, and set me on a new path here in NC. The idea of NC was exile to me. This (2010) was only 8 months into being sick-sick and I still had hope of getting better. I was still forcing myself to activities and I didn't know I definitely had Fibromyalgia. So the idea of moving to this quiet, country place was horrifying. The idea of leaving Mylie was horrifying.
God gave me an extra year. He closed doors, opened windows. He prepared the road before us.
And now here I am, and there are a million distractions. They come by way of texts, Facebook, blogs, television. I could be resting sweetly in His arms. This time of trial is a gift. It's excruciating, but it is a gift to know this suffering. To share in His heart for people. To learn afresh of His heart for me. But I resist that gift every time I choose over Him.
My flesh cries out as if burned. I like my comforts. I like the illusion of still being connected to my old life.
But he whispers.... "Let go...."
Am I willing?
I don't say that in a degrading way or in a way to put myself down. I say that because it is crucial that I understand my limitations and accept them. These last years have been frought with change. I feel like I am playing catch-up of all of it... death, moving a few times, leaving Mylie, leaving California, their divorce and how that changed the home we all shared, losing friends, losing my job, losing my independence, losing my car and most of all Fibromyalgia whipping me around with great intensity.
I could write about so much but the truth is I am not ready to. God is speaking to my heart, showing me areas of sin and rebellion and flesh, purging me, strengthening feeble hands and feet. Feet that long to stop moving towards Him. To stop altogether. The hopelessness has permeated just as deep as the greatest joys have.
I feel.
And I wait.
I yearn to accept, grasp, fully know, walk in my current lifestyle.
But I don't know what that is yet.
I haven't let go of yesterday. That image of a healthy, strong me. But right now I feel like life is a blur. I forget each day, I forget conversations, I forget details. The most vivid memories are the ones I had right before I got sick. Now it's all just a stream of color and sound rushing out out me. I have been bleak. I have been down and out. I look at blogs where people post only the highs of life and not the lows. That's not real. We need the dark to make the light shine so bright. We need to admit the brokenness so others understand the beauty of restoration.
So I speak the truth....
I am mad.
I am depressed.
I am furious, actually.
I am dark.
I am dismal.
Not all of the time.
I also smile.
I also laugh.
I also get hopeful.
But mainly I grieve.
And in this grief comes healing. Not all at once, but it pours over me when it comes.
I feel no shame in saying that I am depressed. This has been a crazy, whirlwind of the last 2 years. This pain is drawing me close to the heart of God, back where I need to be. This hurt is blinding, and it is devastating. It's also a part of accepting how my life has changed.
I strived really long to stay "the same". For who? For others, but for myself too.
Who wants to be sick? I liked my role. I liked being "Mama Moon." I liked being strong. I liked being busy. I found out really fast who my friends were when I got sick. Which relationships were one-sided. They ended as soon as I stopped pursuing them. But I'm still learning. I still have trouble with boundaries. I still find myself feeling the responsibility to pursue, to be the "good friend."
People have actually told me that I am no longer fun, that I am mean now, and that I have changed. All a blow to my spirit, but it's true. I have changed. I am still changing. And I am okay with that now. Because it means in my imperfection God still thinks I am worth molding. He still finds something He can use despite the weak limbs and aching bones.
A willing heart.
He asks that of me.
Do I have a willing heart?
Not 3 years ago when I went to the Philippines.
Not 7 years ago.
Not even yesterday.
Today.
Right now.
Am I willing?
A huge chunk of this is about Facebook. Oh, the love/hate relationship we have. My flesh loves Facebook. Loves it. Back in the days when I had my original account I posted numerous photos. My daily life with the kids and with friends. I was immersed in it. But back then I also had real life, thriving relationships. I met with friends for Bible study, movies, Starbucks, dinner. I went to ballet recitals and Girl scout trips and parent days at school. I worked everyday. Life was full.
Sometime over the course of when I first got sick-sick and now I have come to rely on Facebook as the main source of my relationships. This would not be a bad thing had I already grappled fully with being ill and what that means and accepted it all.
I have not.
Frequently I feel conviction in my spirit with Facebook, but my flesh justifies it. My support group is on there, family, so and so's new baby.... etc. This is my struggle alone. It is not about an obsession with Facebook or time wasted. I know the positives. I know it is a valuable tool. I love that it has enabled me to connect with old friends, especially after Fibro and the move cross country. I love that I have met amazing people from other countries and states. I love how I can constantly be in touch with five hundred "friends." But it is a hindrance to my healing. God has spoken to my heart countless times, and I have been disobedient. I have not yielded this area to Him. Who am I to ask why He is calling me to give it up? I know it is so most especially by how the idea of it horrifies me. To not have Facebook is like social suicide in the normal world, let alone the Fibromyalgia one.
Again, not everyone shares this conviction. It is mine alone. I don't know if I am being called away for a season or for good, but eventually I am going to have to silence my flesh and take that step of faith forward. Right now being on Facebook prevents me from facing the true isolation of Fibromyalgia, of being without Mylie in my daily life, of having moved. It creates a false sense of what was, and so I am not letting go of the past and moving forward into where God would have me.
I am stuck.
I also feel a conviction about how Facebook is complete self-propaganda. I remember how I would post photos of myself all the time. It's like the me, me, me show. I never had a vain heart while doing it, but to reflect back on that makes me cringe. Verses about not keeping a record of sins, about not coveting, etc. come to mind at random times. I think about my girls who started their Facebook profiles at 14 years old or younger. When they are 25 will they really want to go back and look at the old ways they lived? Not in some fond memory land but a real place of recorded conversations and immaturity? Also seeing everyone else's highlight reel is prone to adding to the inadequate feelings of being 31 and disabled.
Basically Facebook has become a place for me to stay fixated on the past, or fixated on the life I no longer live. It links me to people I should have said goodbye to a very long time ago and it promotes time away from God. It is far too easy to forget the sweetness of being in the Word when I am constantly plugging into hundreds of lives with the click of a button.
When God called me out here, it was with this scripture:
God's Message came to me: "Son of man, you're living with a bunch of rebellious people. They have eyes but don't see a thing, they have ears but don't hear a thing. They're rebels all. So, son of man, pack up your exile duffel bags. Leave in broad daylight with everyone watching and go off, as if into exile. Maybe then they'll understand what's going on, rebels though they are. You'll take up your baggage while they watch, a bundle of the bare necessities of someone going into exile, and toward evening leave, just like a person going off into exile. As they watch, dig through the wall of the house and carry your bundle through it. In full sight of the people, put the bundle on your shoulder and walk out into the night. Cover your face so you won't have to look at what you'll never see again. I'm using you as a sign for the family of Israel."
Ezekiel 12:1-6
It was crisp and clear and direct. But it wasn't the time. He gave me that scripture to marinate on and to prepare my heart for the following year (2011) when He would split me from my old life, take me from Mylie, and set me on a new path here in NC. The idea of NC was exile to me. This (2010) was only 8 months into being sick-sick and I still had hope of getting better. I was still forcing myself to activities and I didn't know I definitely had Fibromyalgia. So the idea of moving to this quiet, country place was horrifying. The idea of leaving Mylie was horrifying.
God gave me an extra year. He closed doors, opened windows. He prepared the road before us.
And now here I am, and there are a million distractions. They come by way of texts, Facebook, blogs, television. I could be resting sweetly in His arms. This time of trial is a gift. It's excruciating, but it is a gift to know this suffering. To share in His heart for people. To learn afresh of His heart for me. But I resist that gift every time I choose over Him.
My flesh cries out as if burned. I like my comforts. I like the illusion of still being connected to my old life.
But he whispers.... "Let go...."
Am I willing?
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