I have not attended church in four weeks. Four. But I made it today…Finally. 

Still though, last Sunday, when I was home sick, I watched a live stream for my sermon. Not something I usually do, but it was right on time and straight to my heart. A direct hit. Absolutely meant for me to hear.

He snatched my full attention when he started with this word.

Passion.

Immediately, I found myself looking for mine. Intrigued. Baffled. Searching. Wondering.

Intrigued yet baffled. I was drawn in by the relevancy, which left me in awe of the fact that I tuned into this sermon on the exact moment I needed to hear this specific message. Baffled, as every word was more than relevant to what has been going on in my life, I’m afraid, for longer than I wanted to think about.

Immediately, I found myself searching for my passion. Where the heck did it go? Where was my passion??? For my family, my children, my husband, MY LIFE????? Wondering, when? Wondering, how? Wondering, why? Wondering, how do I get it back???

Many things he said have stuck with me all week. Talking about fanning the flame, lighting the fire, perseverance, the difference between knowing and feeling, practicing, and pushing through.

These are all relevant. Great points.

I didn’t even realize I had lost my passion. Till I started to look for it. My passion for life. My passion for my well being. My passion for anything, really. Going into details would take days. Literally. But the past month or so I’ve been having some health issues which have left me worn, exhausted, and just plain down and out. On the doctor visit trail, things have improved, but still there are things left to find out. While anxious to clear it all up, I’ve found myself more anxious about how I’ve detached from my family, my friends, how I have only been able to be half the mom my children have needed, more days than not. How I’m running my household from texts to my husband to grab this, bring this home, stop here, run there, because I never feel good enough to go anywhere. And if I do, it’s almost miraculous and it usually doesn’t last long. It’s a good day if I can actually run to the store myself, take care of all the kids, fix supper and stay up past 9 o’clock. I didn’t realize how much I have been beating myself up for this portion of my life lately, till last Sunday, as I’m listening to the online sermon, laying on the couch, coughing and feeling like poo, he delivered this message:

The same things you have prayed for are now your complaints.

What???

I’m searching through my life. Right now. Is that true? Chela? Chela? Are the exact things that I’ve asked for and also received, are they the same things I complain about?

Whoa.

He said, you haven’t lost your passion. YOU LEFT IT.

Preach.

Once we get the position, we lose the passion.

Bam.

Guess what? If you let your flame go out, it will.

Ouch.

Passion is greater than your preference.

Ok. I can’t take anymore.

But I know I needed to hear all of what he was saying. ALL.

In the midst of all this, our family also has received a temporary yet permanent visitor. Our granddaughter. She’ll be three in January. She was placed in our care three weeks ago. While I know it is difficult for everyone, I also know in my heart I can’t turn her away. She is a casualty in the situation and just needs our love. But I’d be a liar if I said it was all hugs and kisses and fun. Or that my own children love having her here. It is tough, daily. My four year old and her are either best friends or about to kill each other. My six year old adores her in small doses. My fifteen year old son, knows her being here is what is right, but still you can feel the resentment some days. Yet, on the other hand he is my biggest helper with rounding them all up, getting them in the car and putting out fires between the youngest ones. He also occasionally, may fuel the fire as well. That all being said, it could be worse, I am sure of that, but sometimes, it surely doesn’t feel that way.

Which brings me to other things he said. When you don’t feel it, you flee. Passion is perseverance. Passion will enable you. Passion is when you remain, when everything else tells you to run. You stay because you have passion.

Ding, Ding, Ding….Lightbulb.

I find myself lately, just aimlessly wandering through the days. Checking boxes here and fuddling through to get to there, and to say the least, I’m only just making it day to day. Attempting to avoid stressful situations, tasks and trips in order to just get through the day without a headache or backache or nausea or whatever it may be, makes for long days. By the end of the day I’ve become bitter and angry and sad and impatient because I’m so hard on myself for not being physically able, let alone trying to stay checked in mentally and emotionally.

Passion is perseverance.

Hearing that gave me hope. Hope. I needed to hear that in the worst way.

If I have anything, I have perseverance.

Does that mean I still have passion as well???

This leads me to think about my passion. My passion. What is my passion? Family? My children? Friends? My job? My husband? Housework? Food? Cooking? Cleaning?

Wait.

What about my passion for God? That hunger I first experienced as I accepted Jesus into my heart? That thirst, the drive and for goodness sakes, the passion??? For God. If seeking God is my true passion, then all the rest will fall into place, right? If I search for Him, in everything, then He will guide me to know my passion, to find my passion, to live out my passion, right? He will navigate me through the rough waters of parenting and relationships and marriage, right? With a passion, right?

When you don’t feel it, you flee.

Man. The truth in that for me. Bullet straight to the heart. If I ain’t feeling it, I run. I turn about face and book it. Learning to live not of what I feel, but of what I know. That has been a challenge. Still a challenge, I should say. I don’t feel like cooking, I don’t feel like cleaning, I don’t feel like doing that puzzle with you, I’m sorry Olivia. I don’t feel like going out today guys, I’m sorry Alex and Alijah. I don’t feel like kissing you goodbye this morning, I’m sorry Nick.

I am caught. Red handed, fleeing at every chance I get. I have learned this whole knowing versus feeling concept, I’ve even applied it to my life, but not so much here recently. I haven’t felt the best physically, but I have definitely let myself mentally, feel like I’m never going to get through all this stuff that has been going on. Telling myself I don’t know how much more I can take. Telling myself I’m not enough. Telling myself I suck at being a mom, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a sister. Telling myself the worst and absolutely expecting it just as well.

Thank God, for the saving grace,  that rescues us right when we didn’t even know we needed saving.

I was literally starting to become comfortable in my little shack of disappointments and negativisms and can’ts and  won’ts and don’ts. I think I even had all the decorations hung to have that pity party I chanted about over and over again as a kid…

How did I even get here?

Could it be passion? Or lack there of.

What have I misplaced?

Could it be passion?

What is it I’m looking for?

Could it be passion?

Do I desire God enough to do what is right and true even when I am being put through the test of finding my patience and perseverance and peace?

Or will I flee?

Do I desire God’s will enough for my own life, that I find my passion in what position He has placed me in?

Or will I flee?

When I’m standing in the middle of two little girls screaming over who’s first or right or left or who has the most doll babies or the best silly face or the biggest cup of milk…

When I’m standing in front of an empty fridge with nothing to prepare for supper, no cans in the pantry, no lunch stuff, no drinks, no snacky stuff as my teenager would say…

When I’m standing in the middle of the living room reading the text from my husband that he has to stay over, which makes at least a twelve hour day, which frustrates me more, even though he’s providing and I’m left here for three more hours to play referee and bouncer and taxi driver and chef and maid…

The same things that I have prayed for. Are the same things I am complaining about.

I worked nineteen years retail at Kroger. I raised my first two children basically alone, working full time. Every damn day I would think, I just want to stay home with my kids. I just want to stay home with my kids. I have done the third shift to skimp on child care. I went into credit card debt to pay bills and buy food for my kids. I have cut every corner. I worked over, or I called off if I had to. I worked every weekend. I worked most holidays. Went in when I was called in. I did whatever I had to do to make it. For my kids.

In 2014, that prayer was answered. I have been at home for two and half years, and I know there are moms or dads out there who would love to switch places with me just so they could be at home with their children.

And here I am.

Here I am.

Complaining about something I have asked for for as long as I can remember.

I’ve always wanted to be a mom, a wife, and to care for my family…

Prayers answered, yet passion lost and purpose unfulfilled.

Where is my passion???

Where did I leave the desire, the longing, the wanting?

When did I just give up on myself?

When did I lose my passion for seeking and pursuing my first true love? I don’t think I can pinpoint an exact moment or time. I have slowly been loosening my grasp. Letting my passion gradually walk out the door, while it drags my purpose right along with it.

My purpose. 

He said, “Don’t follow your passion, follow your purpose.” 

Follow my purpose?

Follow my purpose.

With passion.

My purpose.

Ahhhhhhhhhh. My purpose. 

The verse he referenced is a game changer for me.

Revelation 2:3-5Amplified Bible, Classic Edition (AMPC) 

3 I know you are enduring patiently and are bearing up for My name’s sake, and you have not fainted or become exhausted or grown weary. 4 But I have this [one charge to make] against you: that you have left (abandoned) the love that you had at first [you have deserted Me, your first love]. 5 Remember then from what heights you have fallen. Repent (change the inner man to meet God’s will) and do the works you did previously [when first you knew the Lord], or else I will visit you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you change your mind and repent.

Oh my goodness.

Dear Heavenly Father….

I know the things I have endured, am enduring, will endure, are to give glory to you, to the relationship one can have with you. To do the things that are tough and foreign and new and exhausting are to bring glory to your name. To bring notice to the strength found when I put you first, Lord. When I seek you in all I do. When I return to my first love….

Forgive me. I am guilty of deserting the love I once found so exhilarating and new and fresh. 

Forgive me for walking away from the truest love I’ve ever known. For not drawing from the infinite love and wisdom found in your truth and your word and your love. For doubting I can. For doubting that you can. 

Lord, guide me to return to the ways I once found a necessity not an obligation. The works. Let me pray more and complain less. Let me find the enjoyment in covering my family in prayer and love and wisdom. Let me not forget these very blessings that I have asked for are the same ones that are never guaranteed to remain. 

Lord, hold my hand as I step out on this new wave of faith, trusting you to show me my purpose is right where I am, right now. To trust you will lead me to right where I need to be. Let me hear you Lord. Forgive me for pretending I don’t. Forgive me for my selfishness, for my lack of self discipline, and for not trusting in the knowledge that you gave me this purpose for a reason. This family, this role, this life, this season. 

Let my passion be restored, Lord, in your name and your name alone. My passion for your truth, for your glory…

To seek you in all I do. First.

To not let my passion go when my purpose is pulling me down. To hold on to you and push through. Push through with passion for the purpose of what is right and what is true. For the purpose that a passion for you will enable me to keep going. That planting my feet firmly in your word, with passion, I can withstand the storms of life and praise the calm. By remembering where I used to be, and where I fell from…

Reminding myself that if I repent and ask for your forgiveness and your hand in changing my heart, that I can let go of my will to meet your’s. 

To fulfill my purpose with passion.

To remember that sometimes passion is being still, holding on, remaining and enduring, as I live out the purpose you have placed on my life.

Let me share you in every way I know how.

Let me be bold enough to do so.

Let me live out my purpose, passionately, putting you first, so I can last.

Let me embrace my faith.

Let me give grace.

Give Grace A Hug❤️ 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m feeling this one today. As I look back to the wisdom I found in my son’s fresh perspective from a year and a half ago, it resonates with me now, just as strongly as it did on that day. 

Some days the storms are strong and you feel like you are paddling against the current just trying to keep your head above the waves.

On other days the waves of life gently rock you back and forth as life takes on a calm, peaceful and gentle disposition.

Days of despair, days of doubt, days of why’s and when’s and I can’t do this agains, and those wow, my heart can take no more days. 

One constant.

One climate.

Even when the weather around you is storming. The rain is pelting your spirit. Dampening your desire, your drive, your days…
It’s the climate of your heart you must examine. If you can get that right, the storms will pass. Actually,  the storms will pass regardless. The weather will change. The sun will rise and set. Life will go on. 

I find comfort in the climate I’ve found in the arms of a loving God. The only thing I know that is the same as it was yesterday, as it is today or as it was many, many years ago. 

The presence of Jesus. 

The grace of God. 

How is the climate of your heart….
How’s the weather where you are???? 
What climate do you live in????

As I gaze out the window, I notice what a beautiful day it is, not unlike yesterday, but wow how different of a day it is…sun shining, cooler, breezy…beautiful…

Yesterday it was humid, warm, almost hot, very sunny…still beautiful. Each day beautiful in its own right. Different but beautiful. My mind drifts to a conversation with my 13 year old son not so long ago about weather and climate…hmmmm…and then he went on to compare this to God. How weather is temporary and climate is more permanent, consistent, the same over a period of time…weather is the condition at a specific place and time…then he makes the point that God is like the climate. He’s consistent, He stays the same. Hmmmm. Then he says the weather is more like our lives or better yet, like the challenges that come up, our struggles, our pain, our situation. It’s temporary. Hmmmm. Now, thinking back to this conversation, what a simple yet huge point to be made…it brings me to tears now to reflect on this conversation. We started talking about what was going on in science and end up talking about God…hmmmm….but isn’t that how it is??? God is, has been, and will be the same. A climate we can depend on to be nurturing, warm, welcoming, all loving….wow. I’m in awe. And the weather, most like our lives, ever changing, sometimes stormy, sometimes beautiful, but always different and so very temporary…so very temporary…our ups, downs, loves, pains, victories, challenges, heartaches, it’s all temporary. Seasons of depression, seasons of joy, seasons of hardship, seasons of grief, seasons of bliss…all temporary…but God. BUT GOD, is the only thing that is constant through the weather of life. It’s the only thing there is to depend on that will remain true, the same, yesterday, today, tomorrow…no matter if you’re in a sunny patch or the darkest storm of your life, His climate will stay the same. His climate of mercy, grace and love will always be the same. That’s a climate I want to live in. That’s a climate I can bring with me no matter where I live, no matter where I travel, no matter what season of life it is, no matter how hard or good things are. He is the same. He is constant. He is my climate. He is your climate. He is the same to us all. Just as we all are made the same on the inside, He loves each and every one of us the same, through different struggles, different pain, different weather….whether it’s cold outside or hot, hazy and humid, God’s love remains the same. God’s love is constant. God’s love can take you from the storm of your life and deliver you to the climate that could save your life…

I have to ask for an amen on this one…can I get an amen???? Can I get a hug for God’s grace???? 
Give Grace A Hug❤️❤️
Isaiah 40:8 The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.

I am a mess today. No this is not a pity party. This is me on my sleeve. Out in the open. Vulnerable. Wide open.
The exact opposite of what I’ve been lately. The past few weeks I have been shut off, hiding, inside my own head, grazing through life. Barely getting through, it’s been kinda dark in some moments. Light in others. A mix of pain and fear and forgetfulness and coldness. Memories and laughter. Grief and loneliness. Good days and bad. Up, down. Up, down. The wavering roller coaster of life that sends me spiraling if I don’t wear my lap belt or fasten the safety latch or hold on tight or plant my feet firmly where they shoulda been all along.

Where’s that you ask?
Where’s that for me?
The foot of the cross.
Feet planted in the word.
Praying.
Listening.
I’ve been skimming through my devotionals, praying less than more, and here is where I find myself.
A mess.
On my knees, again.
At the foot of the cross, begging for forgiveness, mercy, and a fresh, new, wet, outpouring of grace to drench my spirit, soak my soul and quench my thirst.
Again.
Why can’t I just live in that? Why am I always up down, up down, up down?

This morning I was delivered an answer I had been waiting on.
I have attended a retreat called Hearts of Beauty. Twice. One is upcoming in October. Google it. If you’re interested in going, let me know, it is life-altering. There’s one in the spring. Come with me, I”m telling you, your heart will thank you. I hadn’t planned on attending for various reasons. But, about a week ago, I had this nudge to go. None of my friends were going. I would have to go alone. What??? Me??? Alone??? Whoa. No support, just going alone, me and God??? Whoa. Huge. While I know the time away is much needed, the time with God and nature is hard to resist, I hadn’t committed yet. Pondering again, this morning, my decision, because someone messaged me and asked if I was attending, I found myself questioning why I’m not going. What did I have to lose? At first the nudge was strong, like I gotta do this, I gotta go alone, I gotta try it all by myself. Honestly, I still feel that. But I now know it’s not my time.

I find out this morning that my 15 year old son’s homecoming is that weekend. His first homecoming.
Bam.
Answer given.
Heart broken.
One, my son is old enough to attend homecoming. Two, I know deep down I can’t miss that. Three, attending Hearts of Beauty started serious change in my life. It helped to spark change in my relationship with God, in my relationships with others, and also in myself. How can I not go????

My son says this morning, “Mom, you can still go”, but underneath those big, bright, brown eyes, I could see the disappointment. I could feel it. It was at that moment I knew I had to stay home.

Damn it. Just because we receive an answer, doesn’t mean we have to like it, right???
Thy will be done.
And it is.
Just like that.
I beg for answers then buck them when they’re given.
My will.
My pride.
On my knees.
For some reason, my son’s eyes just keep appearing in my mind.
They are the most beautiful brown. Big. Caring. Wide open. The light dances on the brown like the sun sparkles on the water. I can see his heart through them. I see his pain, although he is good at hiding it. Wonder where he got that from?

He is the typical teenager. Mouthy at times, likes mac n cheese one day and not the next, has his phone glued to his hand, loves sports, being active, basketball is his passion, his true love. We bump heads lately more than ever. We are both opinionated and stubborn. But with hearts of gold buried underneath…

So, back to the retreat I referred to earlier, the book that goes with it is titled is Captivating, by John and Stasi Eldredge. Read it. Even if you don’t attend the retreat. It is helpful. Be ready to look inside. So worth it. Anyway, there is a section about the heart of a man. It was brought up to me this morning, and totally has my head spinning. It is exactly where I left off in the book. The page was bookmarked with a dog-eared corner. Hmmmmm. Interesting. Like, lady, you need to read this part. Now. Talk about a God moment. I mean, I know I didn’t finish it, like most books I start, but what is this message being delivered to me? Scratching my head….
I start reading the chapter…
My son’s image just keeps flashing in my mind.
I can’t concentrate.
I just keep thinking about his heart. His heart. Buh boom, buh boom, buh boom. His beating, loving, caring, heart. His heart. The heart of a man. My son is becoming a man. A man. His heart.
Whoa….
Back to my knees.
Sobbing.
Thank you God for giving me the gift of this child.
Thank you for his heart.
His heart.
Let me tell you about his heart.
Always a sweet, shy child. In my eyes, a mama’s boy, because in essence, I was all he had. And my mom. We raised him. And an older sister. Their father passed away when he was 4. Never a big presence in their lives, none the less, a hole in his heart, that he knows is there but yet has no idea the vastness of that kind of wound or the hurt that it can bring. As I examine this today, even though my father is alive and was/is “around”, but yet was absent more than not, I think of what a void it has been in my heart for so long. All of a sudden I’m finding myself just longing to understand my son’s heart. My fathers’s heart, my brother’s heart, the heart of a man, my heart. Wow. What haven’t we been through? What is left to understand after being raked through the coals of alcoholism, a parents failed marriage, moving around, addiction, separation??? And now I’m face to face with my two older children not having their father around, regardless if they knew him well or not. He is gone. Days I ponder, would it have been easier or harder with him around? Would I have never found my husband now or had my other two beautiful children or would I still be searching for myself in a man that was never mine to begin with?

My knees again.
Thank you God for finding me.
For being my true, Good, Good Father.
For loving me when I couldn’t love myself enough to get out or start over or end it or move on. Thank you for searching for my restless, hardened heart to make it Your’s Again.

This brings me back to the heart of my son.
Back to those big, brown eyes.
The qualities of his heart reflected in the prisms of different shades of brown.
Darkness and light, softness and bold, forgiveness and pride, thankfulness and expectance.
I am praying for his heart. If I could just patch up his heart and fix all the broken, even the broken he doesn’t even know about yet. What mom wouldn’t, right??
The heart of a man. The heart of a man becoming. I adore his heart.
As he told me this morning, “You can go, mom, It’ll be fine.” I could go. He’s right. I could.
But, as I examine my own heart, I know I couldn’t miss this time with him for the world.

I just see those big, brown eyes looking at me, searching me, examining me.
I just see, for a brief second, his heart on his sleeve.
I see him quietly saying go, but only because that’s what he thinks I want to hear.
I think about his heart.
His heart that needs support and reassurance and love and acceptance and approval.
I can’t desert him like that.
I know he’d be fine.
But I’m not sure I would.
Funny how God works in this way. How messages and lessons are sent through others. How He stops us dead in our selfish, prideful tracks and delivers a picture of someone else’s heartbreak, so you can be humbled and gently reminded that His way, while not always in line with your own, is the way you should go. Through Him, you’ll find the grace needed to fill the hole in your heart as you miss that retreat, as you take the steps He has directed, as you fumble through accepting your way isn’t always the best way.
His heart.
God’s heart.
My heart.
I think about how I’ve searched for validation and acceptance in things that never mattered to begin with.
I think about how I’ve lost my own heart in the presence of others.
I think about how I’ve dressed my heart up with the lies I’ve been told, as if it looked good.
I think about how my heart has to be stripped down to sheer, absolute, bare nakedness to be able to rebuild again.
I think about all the times I searched for the love and approval of men in place of the attention that should have been given by my earthly father.
I think about how I’ve buried my heart with the things and the habits that provided the false protection and false acceptance I thought I had to have.
I think about how the answers I’ve received haven’t always been the answers I’ve wanted, but exactly the ones I needed.
I think about how I want my kids to be unselfish and full of forgiveness and thankfulness and grace and mercy and manners and wisdom and patience and self control, with others and with themselves.
I think about how being firmly rooted in the love of Christ will teach them to be secure and to be happy with who they are, in Him, and not conform to the who the world wants them to be, or for that matter, who I want them to be.
I think about the me time I’ll miss being away at the retreat, restoring my heart and mind and soul.

And then there are those big, brown eyes.
Staring at me lovingly.
In the moments of getting ready.
In picking out his outfit.
In his homecoming get up.
In the pictures I’ll be there to take.
In the quiet I love you’s and the be safes.
In the dozing off on the couch until his safe arrival home.
I’ll see those big, brown eyes, then I won’t only trust that God’s will in this situation was the best, I will know it was.

Beat still my heart.
His heart.
A heart I’m proud to know.
A heart I get to love.
A heart growing into the man God has planned Him to be.

I just now got to read my devotionals. It is 2:15 pm.

I tried to tell you in the beginning it was that kind of day.

Hebrews 4:16. “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

This spoke loudly to me today for whatever reason. He died for our sin, although He was sinless. I should have confidence in that as I approach the throne of grace, that there is enough power in His blood to provide for my weakness as I walk in the steps He is directing. It may not be my will or my way, but there is comfort in knowing I can trust Him with whatever it may be, and that it will work out for my good. Let me walk boldly in that. Praying confidently. To be daring enough to walk in faith, believing in His grace and goodness. Thy will be done as I face this situation and more to come. As I learn more every day how to accept His grace, live in His grace, give His grace, and allow His grace to work in my own life.

You’re right. I might be a little sad I don’t get to enjoy the retreat this time around. I’m pretty sure I’ll miss the alone time and the time with God and the fellowship with other ladies like myself. But something tells me I’m going to have to find that restoration and peace and serenity right here and now as I sit this one out. Something tells me I will. Something tells me He will lead me right where I need to be. Something tells me as I bend more towards the direction He is guiding me, I’ll find even more than what I thought I was looking for.

I have to rest in that. His promise.

Grace. It is plentiful. It is sustaining. It is my hug from God.

Give grace.

Give grace a hug❤️

‭

Mmmmm…I stumbled on this saved draft in my notes today. Now, I don’t even remember what I was looking for. But I do remember this. This time. The first time having a panic attack. The journey of the past year and a half of changing how I think in order to change how I feel. Thank you God for being there every step, through the darkness and the muck and depression and anxiety. 

I’m not even sure where to start…the past couple weeks have been trying to say the least.Chewing over personal things, doubting everything, searching for answers, just muddling through…
Pretty sure I had a panic attack last Saturday. Pretty sure I have withdrawn since then. Seems there is always something challenging my spirit, my state of mind, my approach…
I’ve been marinating on a lot of things lately…that is hard in itself. It is hard to dig things up you’ve buried, feelings you’ve hidden, emotions you’ve denied for so long. 

That leads me to replay this in my head over and over: we feel how we feel because we think how we think…that rings so true to me in so many ways. We have a lot of control over how we feel. How we react or don’t react. We have control over our choices, our responses, our attitudes​. But how do you introduce yourself on how to feel about those things that you thought you let go of so long ago? How to feel about situations out of your control but somehow you had to swallow and tell yourself not to feel to get through it? 

As a child, that moment where you close your eyes and pray with all your might for the darkness to recede…that flash where you’re stuck between reality and the moment and your fear and you cling so tightly to anything just to catch your breath…

How after so many years of tucking it away, it comes to surface and all of a sudden you find yourself choking on remorse and guilt and hurt and shame and fear? How? How do you swallow things you had no control over, but controlled you in so many ways for so long? How? How as an adult do you feel so childlike when it comes to addressing your fears? Identifying your fears? Talking to your fears? It’s terrifying. Fear is terrifying. 

In a lot of thought recently, I have found that I am one to put aside my own feelings to satisfy another. I’m one that doesn’t focus on my own needs, but everyone else’s. I believe that’s good. Most of the time. In my thinking I’ve also come to realize that not always is it right to squash your own feelings. It’s not good for yourself or for whom or what you may be feeling about. But then I kick myself…we feel how we feel because we think how we think…shoot. So am I to not feel? Am I to think myself into not feeling? Am I not to think about the things that have hurt me so that I don’t have to feel about them? Am I to force feelings that aren’t there because I think that’s the right thing to do? Am I to mask the numbness that has overcome me because I’m not supposed to feel it? 

Matters of the heart and mind can be so confusing and complex. Matters of the heart that want to feel but just can’t…yet. 

Time is of the essence. Time can heal. But I also believe time spent hiding from your emotions can hurt. That’s my defense mechanism. Hiding. Glazing over. Pretending. Going on as if nothing has happened. Sucking it up whether it’s right or not. Looking back, it seems I probably learned that early on in my life. I also believe the gentleness of my heart is owed to trials suffered from the beginning. I also believe I have a switch I flip to defend myself in times of hurt and pain and grief. Yep. I just shut myself off. Off. Like a light. Dark. It’s horrible. Swimming in darkness. Surrounding myself with numbness till it goes away, or so I think. Then in one instance it all explodes around me. A million pieces of my heart everywhere. Bam. What a mess. How do you clean that up? How do you repair that? How? How I ask? How? Piece by piece? Moment by moment? One thing at a time? How, I scream? Hooooooowwwww????? 

Never do I want to feel like this about anyone or anything. Never do I want relationships to fail or break or be torn apart. Never do I want my stillness, my offness, my quietness to be mistaken for uncaringness…that’s not it. I care. I care too much to say the wrong thing, to say things out of that raw emotion that could hurt or destroy. Also understanding that my silence could have the same result….which is not my intention, but sometimes necessary. In my silence I realize the things I’ve said that hurt…in my silence I realize things I’ve done not so right…in my silence I play over and over again moments I’d like to change, moments that went wrong, moments I don’t want to relive but have to…in my silence, I cry till I can no more…In my silence I realize the noise is too loud…in my silence, I realize the noise is what is getting to me. Silence. Allowing time for restoration. Silence. Shhhhhhhhhhh…Silence…hear that? Nothing. Silence. Silence. 

Amazing, sometimes if we just be quiet long enough to hear…in silence, I come to find the answer most needed. In silence I chew on the feelings of anger and hurt till they don’t taste so bitter. In silence I find things out about myself I didn’t know…In silence, I restore my heart back to new so I can try again. In silence, I withdraw, yet am really just soaking…soaking in silence…soaking it all in to process…in silence, my heart is hurting, but I’m working on mending it…in silence, I pull away, no doubt I hide, no doubt I withdraw, no doubt I disappear inside myself, no doubt I bury myself in what’s good…so I can face what put me here in the first place. The noise. So I can face the noise. The noise. The clutter. The messes of the heart. Some messes of our own fault, and some not so much. Whatever the noise may be….our hearts are amazing vessels…uncovering the many layers of one’s heart…the messes, the triumphs, the joys, the pain, the adoration, the tears, the rejection, the grief, the failure, the accomplishments…sometimes it’s the noise that grabs us…sometimes it’s the silence…

In times like this where I’m teetering on the edge of depression, fighting sanity, searching for clarity, in times where the silence is deafening and the noise is too loud, I collapse. I fall. I surrender. I exhale. I find scripture. I read it. I gasp for air. I breathe. I feel. Or I don’t feel. I heal. I mend. Or at least try. I know, if it were only that easy somedays. Somedays gasping for air is all I can do…

But that’s ok. 

It’s ok to feel like that. Smothered. Surrounded by noise. It’s a part of us. Noise. Silence. Love. Dislike. Emotion. Life. 

In my devotion today, one of the verses to look up was Psalms143:7…Psalm143:4-12New International Version (NIV)

4 So my spirit grows faint within me; my heart within me is dismayed. 5 I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. 6 I spread out my hands to you; I thirst for you like a parched land.[a] 7 Answer me quickly, Lord; my spirit fails.Do not hide your face from me or I will be like those who go down to the pit. 8 Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life. 9 Rescue me from my enemies, Lord, for I hide myself in you. 10 Teach me to do your will, for you are my God; may your good Spirit lead me on level ground. 11 For your name’s sake, Lord, preserve my life; in your righteousness, bring me out of trouble. 12 In your unfailing love, silence my enemies; destroy all my foes, for I am your servant.

Don’t we all grow weary and tired, weak, depressed, sad or burdened? Don’t we all take on more than we should at one time or another? Aren’t we all human and of the flesh more often than not? God knows our hearts. Even when we can’t seem to figure it out…

Our spirit can become faint, so easy to concentrate on our works or lack there of…so easy to focus on our shortcomings, our wrongs…instead we must focus on the things He’s done for us. We must look up, lift our hands and don’t hide…lift your face and heart to Him…ask Him for guidance. Find the glory in your journey. Ask Him to help you do so…He will guide you where you need to be…He will give us life when we are undeserving. Trust in Him your path, He knows how to smooth it out way better than we do…

Find the light in your darkness…His hand awaits…His arms stretched wide…His grace a gift He gives to those who seek Him…
Give grace…

Give grace a hug❤️

“In the silence of the heart God speaks. If you face God in prayer and silence, God will speak to you. Then you will know that you are nothing. It is only when you realize your nothingness, your emptiness, that God can fill you with Himself. Souls of prayer are souls of great silence.” – Mother Teresa

First day of school. Everyone make it?

Whew.

Going on no sleep, anxiety attack late yesterday evening, hormones all messed up, with that all against my favor,  I think I did pretty good. Thank you Jesus!! Packed lunch last night, laid clothes out, even gave my two youngest baths!!! Score!!! Who needs sleep???

I was good. I swear. Got through the crazy traffic of high school drop off. I have a high schooler. Beat still my heart. Don’t go there if you don’t have to. Road rage avoided, cussing a minimum, I even let people go in front of me!! Score!!

Back home. Mind you they are digging up our street. Can’t use my driveway today. It is raining. Mud. Ahhhhh, we got this. Cut through the back yard. Parking in the back is nothing. I love the rain and the nourishment it provides for our crops and grass and flowers and my attitude.

Still together. Bagel had for breakfast, teeth brushed, dressed quickly like he actually wanted to go to school. My first grader is ready. First grader. What??? Ok. I’m starting to feel the wall crumbling. Time ticking. Drink more coffee. Distract yourself. Do something.

Made it to the van. Got gas. Even picked up a friends child for school. I got this!!!!

Everyone looking sharp with their new shoes and haircuts and book bags. We make it to the school’s street. Traffic. Again. Calm, Mom, be calm. Plenty of time. We make it to the circle drop off. I even let someone go in front of me, AGAIN!! Woot woot!! Score!! I slowly pull to a stop,  so they can get out. I say, “ok guys, have a good day, see you at three thirty.” My own child doesn’t want me to walk him in. I think I was expecting them to cling to me and not wanna go and cry and yea,  that didn’t happen.  I say a prayer for them in my head quickly as they exit. Do I have to pull away? Can’t I just sit here and gaze out the window and watch them walk in? Can’t I sit here and make sure they make it to their classroom? Can’t I stay for lunch? Can’t I hold his hand a while longer? Can’t I?

Pulling away was hard. It hits me. I feel the tears. As I quickly wipe them away, maybe so I won’t even notice I’m crying. Didn’t work. Then here come the words of advice from the backseat, my three year old matter of factly says, “Keep it together, Mom, keep it together…

Mannnnnnn…

Here come the sobs.

Father Time. Stop. Please. All my life I wished time away. Wanted to grow up, wanted to  be an adult, drive, drink, go to college, have kids, a family, pay bills….

Mannnnnnnn…

I can’t do this. I promised myself I wouldn’t. Keep it together?

Here we are. Raising our kids. Praying to God to keep them safe, holding on to every last drop, wishing for time to stop, or at least slow down. Kissing them goodbye no longer necessary because they don’t want our slobbery smooches. They don’t need to hold our hand like we want to hold theirs. We talk about sleepless nights raising babies, changing diapers, making bottles, letting them sleep with us just so we can get some much needed shut eye. We talk of teething and terrible twos and first words and what preschool to send them to.

Then all of a sudden, you’re left standing in your kitchen, sobbing uncontrollably, unable to comprehend how you have children growing up to be their own selves. Independent and with a voice of there own. With their own dreams and likes and desires. I should be proud, right?? I made it this far.

Mannnnnnnnnn…

I’m confused. I love them so much. I only want what’s best for them. Even when they’re almost twenty with a child of their own, out of the house, you just don’t stop being Mom. Ever.

I sit here and my heart is just expanding. I feel like it is going to explode. All the years of being a Mom are flashing right in front of me. I don’t know how I did it somedays. Or today.

I’m spinning. The love I have for them is overflowing, it is abundant. It breathes life into me. Even when they drive me nuts or choose unwisely or be their smart mouth teen selves or their headstrong preschooler self. When they need me and when they don’t. When they’re scared and hurt. When they are hungry and tired. When they are calm and collected. When they just are…

Mannnnnnnnnnn…

This reminds me of the love my Father God has for me. For them. For us. For everyone. Abundant. Overflowing. It breathes life into us.

How did I make it this far? Hmmmmmm, I wonder. Answered prayers. Unanswered prayers. Unconditional love. Divine intervention. Whether I was accepting or not. From afar, He was providing even when I thought it was just me. He watched me take my own path and He watched me fall. He knew my path before I even thought about having kids. These blessings that aren’t even mine to begin with. We are all His children, and if we are lucky enough to have kids, they are only borrowed by us for a short time.

No wonder I want time to stop. No wonder I want to hang on as long as I can. Not for their safety, but for my own. I mean what will I do without them? They are my security blanket, my identity, my life. I mean I gave them life…

Mannnnnnnnnnnn…

Did I?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Sobs.

I have to stop there.

Thank you Father God. I am beyond blessed to call you my Father and to have this life handed to me. Forgive me for being scared and fearful and timid and untrusting of the power only you can provide. Thank you Father God, for my children. Thank you for all your children, those who know you and those who don’t. Thank you for providing even when I wasn’t trying to take your hand out. Thank you for the patience extended as I fumbled through the dark to find the light. As a woman, as a friend, as a wife, as a parent, as your daughter. Your daughter. I never thought I’d be able to understand that saying. A child of the one true king. That’s me. I am forever grateful of the changes you have provided in my life. Thank you for the blessings. Thank you for the heartaches. Thank you for the trials that only brought me closer to you. Thank you for these children, today as they go to school, and everyday, and as they make their own way through this journey called life. May they come to understand the truth about you and your love. May I be a vessel to pass on your love.  Thank you for the privilege to be called Mom. Thank you for the strength I found in you, as I made it through another “first”. Thank you in advance for the strength you’ll provide with the many more “firsts” to come. Help me to seek you, help me to rely on your power, not my own. Help me to not only have faith, but to exercise it, use it, build on it, keep it, and cherish it.

Give Grace A Hug❤️

 

 

 

 

Man those stinking Facebook memories that pop up…I remember this one all too well…one of my moods…I truly do thank God for the life I have…I am beyond words of thankfulness💜

Today is one of those days when I woke up in one of my moods…that self battle mood…self defeat, self criticism, depression of self…I woke up to a day where I told myself I don’t want to celebrate. Even after reading my devotions and some Bible, I still wasn’t feeling it…while this isn’t the first birthday without my mom, only the second, but so far the hardest. I long to receive her card in the mail or hear the phone ring with her voice on the other end…her voice that I haven’t heard for over a year now…a year ago still too numb to understand she was really gone. Now, understanding she IS really gone, my heart pangs for her hug, her comfort, her love.

Today marks the day she gave me life. Life. My birthday. Whoooooppeeee, right? What a day for her I’m sure. As I can identify with being a mother, the feeling of giving birth is like none other…the bitter sweetness of not carrying your child any more, the joy that escapes in sobs as you hear the first cry, the utter contentment and love of the first embrace…what else can compete with that love, the love of a mother? As we lay down our lives for our children, sometimes we lose ourselves in the day to day, the hustle and grind, the to and fro. We find loneliness in a house full of noise. We find comfort in our pillows so no one can hear our sobs, for the last thing we want to do is be a burden to someone else. We find joy in the smallest things. We wear our love on our sleeves. We battle for unity, we pray constantly, we fight battles our children may never know about. We fight our children’s battles, sometimes in silence and sometimes out loud. We tend to never ask for help, that would be admitting defeat, right??? A mother is so many things in one. One. One heart that loves all her children the same, one heart that sees the good no matter how many times she was let down, one heart that strives for the best for her family, one heart that beats life into her home, one heart that syncs with each child, each difference, each personality…How amazing is that? The love of a mother…

On days like today when I find myself in the midst of a battle between what I feel and what I know, I have to give thanks to God’s grace. God’s grace, that one more time, found me when I was about to drown out the good, with my own thoughts of the bad. I find if I rely on self, I let self down. I let Him down. But when I come to Him first, in prayer, in thoughts, in practice, in music, in the daily grind, I find the strength, the courage, the faith to let go of the mom I think I should be and embrace the mom He is shaping me to be. The mom I am. Faults and all. I find when I look for my worth through His eyes, I need to search no longer. He is creating in me the person He already sees me to be. He loves me beyond all my faults and disarray, beyond my excuses and habits, beyond the darkness I see in myself. Why? Because I am His child. As our love as mothers is extended to our children, His grace and love are extended to all His children. All of us. Every one of us. As a mother scoops us up and covers us with love, boo boo after boo boo, heartbreak after heartbreak, failure after failure, God’s love for us is one in the same. It can reach all our hurt and regret and pain and doubt. He can battle for us. He can fight right along side us. His love can turn you around that corner of self defeat if you choose to follow the directions of His guidance. His love can deliver you from pain and heartbreak, grief, anxiety, hopelessness, and unrest. He cries with joy when His children seek Him and accept His love. His love, so much like a mother’s, covers us all, blankets us in warmth, wraps us in unending grace, swaddles us in our greatest times of need, like an infant just born, all the way to a grown woman that just misses her mom…today on this day of my birth, I give thanks to my mom who gave me life 41years ago. Thank you for being who you were and are to me, I miss you like no other…I also give thanks to God, who in the past year or so has also given me life. New life, in the freedom of His grace. New life that He continues to breathe into me daily. At my worst moments and at my best, I find Him right here beside me…

Thank God. Thank God. Thank God and Give Grace A Hug❤️, today and everyday, at your worst, at your best, but if anything, with all your heart…