Tag Archives: Happily Ever After

Where Faith and Facts collide

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I’m more than flesh and bone. Right?

Surely this isn’t all there is. Is it?

The wind was blowing so violently today. Trees were bowing to its power as dust clouds from the roadway construction danced on the busy streets.

I try to take the stairs at work, at least when I’m descending from the 4th floor back to the 1st. I love this stairwell. It’s between the 2nd and 3rd floor that I always pause and look out the larger than life windows. Today was no different. I stopped, looked out the window and watched as the trees danced in the breeze. It was so beautiful.

I can’t see the wind, but I know it exists. It is abundantly clear when branches of trees sway in surrender as their leaves are torn away. I don’t ever question whether the wind is real. I just believe it to be…because it is.

It is not unlike my faith. I don’t always appreciate its power until I’m surrendering to something in an effort to move forward or simply survive. In fact, there are times when I go days without thinking about what faith really means. I have it in my back pocket for when I need it.

As I opened the stairwell door to the first floor, visions of the 25 yr. old who jumped to her death only weeks before flooded my mind.

I will never look at those stairs and sidewalk just outside our doors the same way again. It’s haunting when recalling that day. I wonder if she thought there was something more than this life or that this is all there is?

There are times when I think about eternity and it is too much for my mind to take in. I begin thinking, “What if when we die nothing happens? It’s just…over.” a certain sickness comes over me when I question this because everything I know tells me that there is more. So much more.

And then the voice of doubt creeps in and says, “But what if you’re wrong and all of your striving and praying, giving and loving is for naught. What if you’ve been tricked into believing something that simply is not there?”

Then the voice of truth speaks up and says, “But what if you’re right? There’s more. More to this life now. More to this life after.”

And it leaves me knowing that I would rather be wrong in believing that there’s more than this life…a God in heaven who loves me with a love that my brain does not have the capacity to understand…a Savior who gave his life so that I don’t have to perish in my sin…a day when all will be well with my soul…

I would rather live a life, believing that what God says is true and that He is faithful, than to dismiss as silliness the ache in my soul for something not of this world and discover when it’s too late that I was wrong.

Flannel vs. Lace

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Grab your favorite beverage and get comfortable because we are going to talk about sex.

Yep, I said it. S-E-X.

I cannot keep quiet about this any longer! Married people, you are missing it. You’re missing out on one of the main ingredients that makes a marriage solid.

If your upbringing was anything like mine, “the talk” involved a book with cartoon illustrations, words I couldn’t say without laughing and a very nervous parent who had never been more eager to get through a conversation.

Very little was said about it in our home and that made it all the more intriguing to me.

Yet somehow, when it came to this subject, I learned the formula;
Sex = Dirty, Unclean, Shame. It’s going to be incredibly uncomfortable and you should, “Save it for the one you love.” Huh?

I have talked to multiple women over the last few months. All of them have been married less than nine years. Eight out of ten of them are not having sex with their husband. And by not having sex, I mean one time or less per month.

There are lot’s of excuses, some are really good, valid reasons. When you have young children, especially a baby, the last thing that most women are thinking about is the thing that got them pregnant in the first place.

SO, have you gotten off track? Don’t know where to start?

Ladies…

  • Find a time in the day that works for you. It doesn’t have to be evening and it doesn’t have to be in your bed.
  • If you have a baby and it has been 6 months or more since giving birth, you should no longer be wearing maternity panties.
  • Have at least three pieces of lingerie that you actually put on for your man from time to time. Victoria figured out the secret and she has stores all over the place. I don’t care what your budget, your hubs will find the money. Go. Buy. Wear. Men are visual. Give your man something to think about the next day in his budget meeting. (Men are not looking at that one place on your thigh that is all you see when you look in the mirror. So, DON’T POINT IT OUT TO HIM!) One of the most unattractive things a woman can do is discuss her physical flaws with the man who thinks she’s a hottie. Work what you have! Everything looks better in lace.
  • Send him suggestive text messages every now and then. You may have spit-up on your shoulder and be in major need of a shower. That’s why you’re not going to FaceTime. You’re going to TEXT.
  • Praise him in front of others.
  • Be specific when you compliment his efforts and achievements. He wants to make you proud.

Guys…
You are not off the hook here.

  • Woo her.
  • Adore her.
  • Just because you said you loved her on your wedding day, doesn’t mean you never have to say it again.
  • Be affectionate with her without expecting to get it on. You might be surprised.
  • Leave a note on the steering wheel that you’re thinking about her.
  • Tell her she’s beautiful.
  • Look at her. Listen to her. Affirm her.
  • Be intentional about setting a date night. It doesn’t have to be flowers and candles, just some time set aside for building and growing your relationship.

When we marry, God gives us a license to explore, enjoy and play.

For some of us, we didn’t wait for the license. We didn’t do anything in the order that it was intended.

Right or wrong, here is my take on that…

I think the reason God doesn’t want us sleeping around and getting knocked up and/or contracting something that we can’t wash off, is because He knows how much it will hurt us. It’s a hurt not easily healed. He knows that we will carry the weight of shame and guilt with us, sometimes for a lifetime. He is protecting our heart.

The way He designed this whole crazy, beautiful, mysterious act is, well… kind of perfect. He knew what He was doing.

Please hear me when I say that, I wasn’t wearing white on my wedding day. I have felt damaged and broken for years and then something that can only be explained as a “spiritual awakening” happened.

This man, who I believe God chose and designed for me and me for him. He didn’t look at me with shame or disgust. He didn’t talk to me like a worthless whore. In fact, he treated me like his queen and now all that I know and have ever known… is him. When I close my eyes, he is the only one I see. He is the only one I want to see.

Ladies, some of you are shaking your head as tears run down your cheeks and saying, “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

You’re right. However, I know what I’ve done. I know what I’ve thought in my mind about doing, which Jesus said is one in the same. And I am here to testify that nothing, NO ONE, is beyond redemption.

Right now you’re saying in your mind, “BUT…”

There are no buts in forgiveness, Darling. Strike that from your vocabulary where needed.

Some of you reading this have given your body away in hopes of filling up the emptiness that you feel. Others make a living by taking your clothes off and spinning on a pole. Some of you are helping them make a living by going and watching them spin on a pole. Though I do not condone this (just as I do not condone past behaviors of my own), I have known some “professional dancers” who have a bigger heart and purer motives than many Christians. I am confident that there is no condemnation in Christ. Nothing will fill a void like His grace, mercy and love. Nothing.

Some of you had someone force themselves on you. Whether you were a child when it happened or an adult, it’s not your fault. Regardless, you feel stained. I am here to tell you that the blood of Christ is better than any bleach out there and He will make you new. Brand new. He is in the business of restoration. He makes beautiful things out of our pain. If we let Him…

I was talking with a friend not long ago who was an exotic dancer and professional escort for several years. She now has a hard time even thinking about being intimate with anyone, let alone her husband. Her exact comment was, “I’ve done everything and it was dirty and wrong. I have no desire to do those things with my husband. It just reminds me of who I was and what I used to be.”

“Let it go.” Sound too simple? Well that’s because it is simple. Not to be confused with easy.

This man, who is being punished for something in the past that he was not even a part of, loves you and wants you, just the way you are.

I encouraged her and will encourage you, that every time she closes her eyes and sees things that seem to be tattooed in her memory, to picture it going through a shredder. Find something to replace it. It doesn’t have to be sexual. You may have to repeat the shredding over and over and over again. Eventually your mind will be transformed.

When those visions and memories creep in and give you that sick feeling, know that it is not from God. It is not from the One who created you with great purpose. The One who designed you from scratch. The Master’s hands formed you from the beginning and they are on you still.

None of us are beyond the reach of our Savior.

Now, I know I am opening myself up to some major criticism, judgement and misinterpretation… I’m okay with that. I’m not an expert. I do think that we should feel the freedom to talk with our spouse about sex, intimacy and our body without acting like it’s a four letter word.

Can we do that? Can we stop projecting shame onto others? Can we who are married, make an effort to remind our spouse why they would never want to look anywhere else for sexual intimacy? Can we see ourselves, our bodies and our marriage through the eyes of the One who created it all in the first place?

Can those of you who are not with someone right now, look ahead with great anticipation, eager to experience sexual intimacy and all that comes with it, the way God intended it to be?

Try it… I dare ya!

Cinda-who? A different kind of Princess.

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Ask any child who Cinderella is and they will most assuredly know.

When asking my 3 yr. old son if he knew who Cinderella was, he said, “Ewwwww. I don’t like Cinderella.” I would say that’s right on track with where he needs to be. Like her or not, he knows who she is.

The other day on my drive home, the song “Cinderella” by Steven Curtis Chapman came on. I have heard this song many times with goosebumps covering my arms, while envisioning a little girl standing on her daddy’s feet as he dances her around.

This time was different. The tears began streaming down my face. I literally said out loud, “What is wrong with me?! This is ridiculous! Dry it up!”

I have been thinking about it ever since. Singing the lyrics over and over in my mind. “I will dance with Cinderella, while she is here in my arms, ‘Cause I know something the prince never knew…” Each time, I feel the lump well up in my throat.

When I finally took the time to sit down and start writing, clarity was found.

How many of us aspired to be a princess? Not just any princess. THE Princess. Cinderella. Nothing sounded better than being rescued from a life of chores and mean sisters. Throw in a personal fairy godmother, a makeover, a prince, a happily ever after and most of all, being able to say, “Shove it!” to the wicked stepmother and we have ourselves a fairytale.

And then something went wrong.

It wasn’t that we had brown hair instead of blond or that we didn’t have a stepmother or stepsisters to fit the story. It was that some of us took a different path. We thought that after enjoying adventure and having more “fun” we could come back and cross the finish line of life, as a Cinderella.

I haven’t read the story of Cinderella in quite some time, but from all the times I have read it in the past, I don’t recall the part where she cusses out the bartender when he yells “last call.” Or cuts marks on her body as a painful reminder that she’s real. Or where she sticks her fingers down her throat until she pukes everything that she had just binged so that she can eat more and keep stuffing those feelings down while maintaining the illusion of control. I don’t remember where she gives herself away to those who’s name she can’t even remember? Or where she stands before the full length mirror, a skin cloaked skeleton, scrutinizing every inch of her body.

Those pages must have been missing from the book.

For many of us, they are the most prevalent. Those descriptions mark a part in our story where everything changed. Shame became a constant companion. The reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable.

The realization came that there would be no horse-drawn carriage to take us to the ball. There was no army frantically searching the land to find the foot that fit the glass slipper (our foot), while the prince pines away back at the castle awaiting the return of his true love.

“Who’s ever heard of glass shoes anyway?!”

None of us dreamed of being addicts or alcoholics, prostitutes or strippers, a teenage mother or a 20-something divorcee.

We all had similar dreams. So what happened?

Well, when I was 12…
When he…
When she…
We all have our _____________ to fill.
Our story to tell.

It doesn’t matter the details of destruction. All that matters is from today… from this moment… how the story ends.

May I paint a mental picture for you, Beautiful One?
We aren’t waiting for the prince.
There is no clock to strike midnight and strip us of our dreams.

The King Himself prepares a place for us. The Creator of the heavens, waits for us. He beckons us. He eagerly awaits eternity with us. I don’t know how your story reads up to now, but I know how it can end.

You are a Precious Treasure, Favored, Adored by the Creator of heaven and earth.
Don’t give up, Darling.
Keep going.
It is in those times of weariness that we must listen for His whisper and embrace the anticipation of one day being His bride.

There is no better “ever after.”

*Photos taken from google

A Stranger in my Own Skin

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Have you ever felt restless…almost like you’re allergic to your skin?

If you have, you know what I’m talking about and you probably just became a little uncomfortable recalling that feeling. If you haven’t, try to imagine thousands of ants crawling on you… beneath your skin.

I had all sorts of “isms” that I used for years to cope with the feelings and happenings that I wasn’t sure how to walk through or even sit in, for that matter. They worked really well…until they didn’t anymore.

So here I am, almost 9 years later and have learned to meet life on life’s terms…mostly.
My dad called the other day and just like every time he calls, when I answered (thanks to caller ID), “Hey dad.” He responded with, “Hey, My Joy! How are you?”

My reply, “Do you want the honest ‘how much time do you have, cause this is gonna take a while’ answer or the generic, ‘I’m fine, how are you?’ to avoid discussing what’s really going on answer?”
To which he replied, “Let’s try the honest answer.”

“I’m restless! Like, the down in my soul kind of restless. Not the, I’m bored, I need a change of scenery restless. Do you know what I mean?!”

“Yes!” he said. “I know exactly what you mean!”

I proceeded to tell him about the past few days and that after the boys had left for soccer that day, I sat down on the hardwood floor, leaned my back against the wall and just acknowledged the way the floor felt beneath me and the wall behind me. It was solid and definite. There was no argument about it’s existence. Anyone could see that it was there.

There are times when nothing in this life gives that assurance.

As I glanced up through the windows of our front door, it took me back to December 2007. I was 7 months pregnant with our youngest and our 1 year old was in respiratory distress at Children’s Hospital. After the third day in the hospital, I came home to take a shower in my own bathroom and attempt to rest. After walking through the door that chilly December day, I collapsed in a pile in this same spot, looked out through the windows of this same door, at a grey winter sky, and wept.

When I say that I was weeping, I mean, it was so far beyond the ugly cry. It was with my entire body…shaking violently. I didn’t care that snot was mixing with tears and running into my mouth and down my face or that my cheek was pressed to the hard floor. All I could pray between sobs was, “Help me God. Please help me. I have no control over my child’s health…or this growing baby in my belly…or my daughter’s anxiety about pretty much everything. I’m so weary. You’re going to have to help me…please.”

This time, almost 4 years later, I closed my eyes and said, “Lord, I want to know you more than just better. I want to know you intimately. I want to seek you with perseverance and determination. I long for the continuous assurance of your presence. My spirit has a hunger like I have never known.”

My dad’s response was, “This is a really good thing.”

“WHAT?!”, I said. “How can this be good?! I feel like I’m going to implode! It feels as if my spirit cannot be contained any longer by this imperfect shell encasing it. I’m not even sure I know how to pray. Most of the time I either say the Lord’s Prayer or something along the lines of , ‘God, thank you. Thank you. Thank you for being so good to someone as undeserving as I. Amen.’”

SIDE NOTE: It really helps that my dad is a life coach. (a.k.a. An expert at not only talking people off the ledge, but giving them clear direction once they reach safe ground.)
I had not quite reached my ledge, but I was inching closer by the hour.

The summary of his advice to me was this…

  • The desire to seek spiritual nourishment is from God. It doesn’t have any negative connotations.
  • He put this longing in us from conception…a hole of sorts. Some people don’t recognize it or rather, they choose to fill it with other things. But it is never satisfied and seems to grow larger the longer it goes unfilled.
  • There is only one thing that can fill up that hole. (This is where you insert that perfectly timed answer. “I know, I know…God.) Of course that’s true, but there is so much more to God than the fact that He fills a void.
  • As a follower of Christ, the deeper we go, the feeling sometimes is, the less we know… the farther away the finish line looks. This is not a bad thing. We will never know everything there is to know about God until we get to heaven and maybe not even then!
  • Find a place to be quiet. Relish the silence. Even if it’s for 30 seconds and wait for God’s voice. You don’t have to say the perfectly scripted prayer. You don’t have to go down your checklist of sins or wants or anything else. Simply, be present and listen.

Henri Nouwen wrote, “The real “work” of prayer is to become silent and listen to the voice that says good things about me. To gently push aside and silence the many voices that question my goodness and to trust that I will hear the voice of blessing…that demands real effort.”

In the words of Mother Teresa, “Before you speak, it is necessary for you to listen, for God speaks in the silence of the heart. Give yourself fully to God. He will use you to accomplish great things on the condition that you believe much more in His love than in your own weakness.”

Here’s the deal…I have 3 very active children, a husband who I adore, a job, along with a multitude of other things that justify me never taking the time to find a quiet place and listen for the voice that completes me. It’s a choice.

Today, I choose to take the time out needed, however much life allows, close my eyes, unclinch my fists and open my palms to the heavens (the explanation for that is another post all together)  and bask in the silence while just being in His presence.

Is it difficult for you to be still, much less quiet?
 No matter what stage of life you’re in, we will always have restless times that
prayerfully will only last moments instead of hours or days. 
How do you combat those times of restlessness in your own skin?