Tag Archives: Let’s Start at the Beginning

Love

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While trying to come up with an incredibly deep and meaningful title for this post, that would be sure to grab the attention of anyone who glanced my way, the one word that kept coming to mind was, “Love.”

My mind will not slow down long enough for me to write something that expresses what is happening in my heart. As I think of my friend, her body being ravaged by cancer, I want to vomit. I don’t know what else to do, but come to this blank page and start thinking out loud.

At the same time, selfishly, I want to give you something that will leave you thinking that I’m brilliant. Something that will touch you so deeply that on your death bed you will think of this post and find peace. Crazy, right?! I know!

God forbid I just admit to the fact that everything I have written in the last 24 hours has sucked! I’m a work in progress. Egomaniac with an inferiority complex remember?! I want you to like me even if I don’t like you…and yahdee yahdah.

Funny (and not in a haha sorta way) thing is, I cannot put 5 words together to form anything worth your time it will take to read it.

As I sat upon my pitty pot of self-delusion, I did what anyone else would do in my situation…I checked my email. Forget actually trying to sleep. I may get an update on my friend’s condition and I cannot miss that…or wait until morning to read it!

There, in my email was a picture of a handwritten note from my daughter. Ironically enough, it was talking about love. Now, I realize that she is a lovestruck teenager who daydreams about her knight in shining armor, in other words, Justin Bieber, but I love what she wrote. Simple. To the point. True.

I love this kid! Her heart is so deep, her motives so pure and her faith so beautiful.

She doesn’t believe that. She thinks she is a nuisance. Now that may change tomorrow, but for tonight, she sees herself as something to be tolerated. What?! How is that possible?!

She told me between sobs what was troubling her. It made me ache. I want to fix it. I can’t.

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” ~Mother Teresa

Sometimes it feels as if all I am doing in love is hurting, while other times it is pure bliss. As I try desperately to get to my vague point, here is what I have been thinking about love since speaking with my Bella;

How do you find it? Does it find you?
Once you find it, or it finds you, how do you keep it?
While keeping it, how do you explain it to others?

Simple, but not easy…You live it.
In every thought.
Every word.
Every deed.
Every action.
Every response.

Don’t see this as an impossible feat. See it as an inspiring challenge…to love without getting tired.
Take every thought captive.
Think before uttering a word.
Act from a place of kindness.

Love really is the root of it all…or it should be anyway.
It’s where the adventure begins.
Once the search has begun, it is a lifelong journey, there is no going back.
It’s going to hurt and
It’s gonna be messy

but

It will also be wonderful and filled with purpose.

I’m going to be okay…
Bella will be okay…
You…will be okay.

“Love to be real, it must cost—it must hurt—it must empty us of self.” ~Mother Teresa

The sins of the father

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I have been told that the sins of the father, like some genetic curse, are passed down through generations. I’m not sure if I believe that? I have seen things that would indicate it is true and other things to disprove it’s validity. What do you think?

Do you have a father who does or did the things that you swear you’ll never do? Be careful what you think about. Wherein your focus lies, you will most certainly gravitate.

A recent conversation took me back 18 years to a time when I was thrown into the chaos that was my parents very messy, very public, divorce. I remember being furious at the judgement flying around. I recounted the headlines, the accusations and all of the nastiness from so called Christians. Within moments I was once again in the midst of one of the most tumultuous times in my life.

Wounds I thought had long since healed, suddenly begin to ache. Instead of a band-aid, I need a tourniquet. Pain that I have learned to disregard from years of unanswered questions now surfaces and I am left mentally struggling like a drowning person fighting the current.

I am no stranger to secrets. Secrets of my own as well as those of others that were never mine to keep. I have lived a life wrought with guilt and shame. I have stuffed mental and emotional closets full of regret until the door would barely close.

The problem with this type of coping is that one day, everything comes pouring out. And not gently, but rather forcefully. There is no way to prepare for when this happens.

The beautiful part about the sudden onslaught of contained darkness is that it forces you to sift through the wreckage. There is almost always one of two outcomes. Either the pain is too great and denial so deceiving that one is not able to rise above their circumstantial feelings or healing is found through a journey of painstakingly, rigorous honesty.

For someone who lived a life of secrecy, it is no simple matter to turn from the familiar and embrace the unknown. However, one reaches the point where the silence becomes deafening as it screams truth.

I began sifting through the wreckage ten years ago and here is what I have learned…

There comes a time when I must stop hoping for a better past, accept what is, make amends where possible, and live in the present, continuing to move forward.

Right here, right now, I release the sins of my father and the sin of anyone else (for that matter) that has been projected onto me, either by force or choice. They have no power over me, nor my children, nor my children’s children.

I am not beyond the reach of grace. When the voice of doubt shouts at me, I will turn my ears to the whispers of truth.

Today, I know better. And because I know better, I do better.

Related posts:
The Maze of Ministry
The Maze of Ministry – Part 2

Everything I thought I knew I no longer know

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I heard something today that broke my heart
Shook me to my core
Turned my world upside down
Made me question everything I have ever known
Evoked feelings of anger, sadness, remorse, disgust, angst

I wanted to go into the bathroom stall and puke my guts up until I felt better
Until my insides were numb
Until I made this raw, scraping feeling in the pit of my stomach go away

I knew that kind of relief is temporary and soon fleeting
I also knew that
I didn’t want to feel the way that I felt

For those of us who have been through a season of escapism
and come out on the other side
We are fully aware that the only way to remain mentally, emotionally and spiritually sound is to sit in our feelings
No matter how difficult
No matter how long it takes
Acceptance is key

I find at times that remaining physically sober is much easier than
maintaining and nurturing spiritual, mental and emotional sobriety
These are the places where the atrocities begin
sometimes long before the action ever happens

If I do not face, sort and squash things where they originate
the outcome is always one of tragedy, personal or otherwise

Thankfully, I have an incredible network of individuals who know me
The real me
The person who is broken time and time again
Flawed and scarred

Those amazing souls
Living and passed
Some whose voice I hear audibly
Others I must feel with my heart and recall in my memory

A girl like me, has to surround herself with truth
Light that dispels the darkness
Wisdom of others who have gone before me

One of my favorite speakers is Jud WIlhite
I will frequently go to iTunes and listen to past talks of his
Today was no different
I needed to be quiet and listen

There was one thing he said in this session that struck me as deeply as the painful news I had heard just hours before, only it brought hope instead of harm
It was his response to a friend who had walked through a season of darkness and at the time engaged in a lot of self-injury
Now on the other side of it, she asked him how she would one day explain the scars to her daughter.

His response was this, “All you need to do is look her in the eye and say, these scars mean one thing these scars mean that your mommy survived by the grace of God and he’s done a work of healing in my life.”

So today, right now, in this moment
I choose recovery
I choose life
I choose truth
I choose hope
I choose love
I choose grace

How could I not?!
After all, that is what has been shown to me
Over and over and over and over again

“Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn’t love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us. Love like that.” Ephesians 5:1-2

If you would like to hear the message that I listened to today from Jud Wilhite click here

Does this make me look fat?

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Ladies, why do we even ask this question? We know when we look fat. We are setting the recipient of our insecurity, up for a no win situation.

Here’s the deal, I’m tired of feeling things jiggle when I walk.
I have been bartering with myself for the last year when it comes to dropping some lbs.

It sounds something like this. I will pay closer attention to what I eat and don’t eat…
If I have to go up another pants size
If I have a roll under my bra
If I ever have a “gut”
If I’m uncomfortable naked
If one of my children ever says, “Am I having a baby brother or baby sister?

The list goes on, but that’s the gist.

Well, today was the day. I stopped making excuses. I decided to make a change. I dusted off the shake mix that I bought last year for this very reason and I made a shake as a meal replacement.

Doesn’t sound like a big deal, does it?

Well for someone who has never had a “working relationship” with food, it’s a very…big deal.

I have never thought of food in a positive way. In fact I rarely think of food at all. Which sounds funny coming from someone who is as big as she’s ever been.

For 12 years I had a condition called bulimarexia. Weird huh? I always liked being unique. I couldn’t just have your ole run-of-the-mill bulimia or anorexia, I had to have a combination of the two. I think it’s the bipolar of eating disorders.

Sometimes I would restrict for days eating a mere 165 calories and then I would switch it up by binging anywhere from 2,500-5,000 calories in one sitting and then stick my finger down my throat until there was nothing left but stomach acid. When I was feeling extra bold I would throw down a few boxes of laxatives (30-75 pills.) I still remember the way the pink candy coating tasted, especially when I would take too many and forcefully vomit.

BUT, I was skinny.

My family would say things like, “You’re killing yourself. You know that, right?”
“Well, at least I’ll die skinny.” I would say.
Talk about shallow, insecure and egotistical all wrapped into one dysfunctional package!

Without turning this post into a share at a support group and in an effort to shine light on this that I like to keep hidden, I wanted to be forthcoming about the monster within who rears its ugly head any time I consider focusing on the daily ins and outs of eating.

If I’m being completely honest, I’m scared.
Scared that I’ll fail. Scared that I’ll return to old habits that show results more quickly than doing it the right way. Scared that I have screwed up my metabolism so much that there’s no going back. Scared that I will become obsessed with the calories, portions and fat grams again.

So here, in the quiet of morning, when it’s only God and me. I ask Him to whisper His promises when I need them most. I ask for His protection from the monster within. I ask for His guidance as I walk this road to a healthier me. I ask for His grace when I am frustrated and want to quit.

This is a lifestyle that I am learning. Not a diet, or the newest craze. It’s a way to live in harmony with something that I need to sustain me.

In case you’re wondering, I gave up the eating disorders when I put down the booze. That was October 19, 2002.

Why did it take me so long to embark on this challenge to have a positive relationship with food? It’s like any other toxic relationship. I never wanted to return to the place of making an effort to control my weight.

The difference is, I don’t need alcohol to live, but I need food to survive. So, here I am…at the beginning…looking ahead, not behind. It’s going to be hard for me. The discipline to be healthy and not cut corners, will be difficult.

I’m ready. Today, I begin a new life.

If you or someone you love is struggling with an eating disorder, please, please, get help. It is serious and it wants to take your life. You can start by visiting the National Eating Disorders Association.

The Maze of Ministry

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Growing up a PK (preacher’s kid) I had a front row seat to all kinds of things done in the name of “ministry.”

I saw religion, spirituality, atheism, agnosticism. I saw searching. I saw people who were “worshipers of satan” and those who claimed to be their own god. I was never allowed to be in the presence of anyone who was supposedly possessed by demons. Though my dad would get calls at all hours for these types of things.

He only talked about it once. Said that it was the most frightening thing he has ever witnessed and hoped that he would never have to witness it again. It was a girl. A teenager. She was speaking in different voices and climbing the walls. Weird, huh?!

This can be very confusing for anyone, but especially a child.
I found that the easiest and most convenient path to take was to adopt the God of my parents understanding.

The only problem was that they had very different views of who God was and how He sees us, His children.

Flashback Time

During the Summer, my dad would meticulously pack up the Buick and we would all pile in and head off to where he was speaking for the week.

This usually entailed at least a 5-10 hour drive.

I am the youngest of 3 girls. We would all three be in the back seat with our one thing that we were allowed to bring along to entertain ourselves.

Keep in mind that these were the days of 55 mph speed limits on the highway.

I have always been prone to motion sickness. My mother would say multiple times during a road trip, “Focus on the center yellow line and you’ll be fine.”

This would be right about the time that my mouth would begin to water and the imaginary knot grew bigger and more uncomfortable in my throat. You know the feeling…right before you lose it.

“Oh God, please don’t let me vomit in this car!”

I could only imagine how awful the next few hours would be with the smell on the upholstery.

I stared at that yellow center line for more miles that I could count.

Though it sounds rather horrific, I loved those Summer travels. Even though it meant we were not with our friends, I met knew friends and before you knew it, we were running up and down the seemingly endless isles of a gigantic auditorium.

It was always great to come home too.

I can close my eyes, even now, and remember walking into our house on a hot summer day in the south. The turn of the key in the lock and stepping over the thresh hold. The air had been off for days, making it just bearable to be inside while waiting for dad to turn on the AC.

Upon the first breath through my nose, I knew I was home. The smell was familiar and comfortable. The sun streamed through the sliding glass doors, across the carpet and onto the tall stools at the kitchen counter where we ate breakfast every morning.

I remember as if it was yesterday, seeing the dust stir in the sunlight. I turned the corner, walked down the hall to my room and felt at ease. Collapsing on my bed and looking up at the popcorn ceiling, life was good. I didn’t know any different.

And then it broke. Never to be put back the same way again.
After all, with so much at stake, how could it be?

(This is where I will place the bookmark…for now. Let’s pick up where we left off in the story, tomorrow.)

A Not so Silent Night

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As I think about Christmas, the gifts, the fellowship, the stress….the birth of Christ, I am overwhelmed by the incredible truth that Jesus came as a human being, knowing that he would have to experience the pain of this world and one day take it all on himself so that we could live…

Being a mother of 3, I can’t help but think of Mary. I thought of her more last year than I ever have…until this year.

With a beautiful friend spending the next 24 hours (give or take a few) with her baby girl in her womb, knowing that once she is born, her life will be short, I am flooded with all kinds of emotions. Most I am unable to articulate.

My heart is heavy. Knowing from firsthand experience that a mother’s heart is never prepared to let her child go.

So my mind races with thoughts of what Monday will look like for Katie.

I think of her husband and her two daughters, how they will be affected, what they will be feeling. However, it isn’t the same. A mother spends more than 9 months feeling this little life move inside her womb. She talks to her, sings to her, names her (Hallie), pats her belly as if to say, “I’m here and I love you already”. There is nothing to prepare her to let her go…

Mary knows what it is like to lose a child.

The perspective of a mother watching her beautiful baby boy smile and coo knowing in her heart that one day she would also watch him die. I can’t fathom it.

I think of her, watching her precious little one (the Savior of the world) run around outside, playing and laughing, the sun reflecting off of his hair as she thinks, “When Lord? When will it be? How much time do I have?”

Over the weekend, Chris and I took our boys and a friend’s daughter (who we love to pieces) to the Nature Center. They love it there. I had to be all but dragged as Friday is my pajama pants day. I threatened Christopher with wearing pj pants in public, but he didn’t seem the least bit concerned.

Once we got there and realized that we pretty much had the whole place to ourselves, I was able to exhale.

The beautiful flowers and plants that we had seen blooming only weeks ago were now brown and leaves covered the ground. The signs of fall were all but gone and winter was announcing its arrival.

It’s amazing how different the exact same tree looked, stretching to the sky with its now naked branches.

It was an overcast day, but the sky still looked amazing and the breeze was just enough. It was as if God was acknowledging sadness.


I loved hearing the kiddos squeal with delight as they ran through the crunchy leaves, stopping only to climb on a rock or pick up a stick to throw into the river.

I watched them look in amazement at all the different creatures along our path. The dirt was even fascinating to their young minds. Their imaginations were taking them to far off places with invisible swords and maidens in distress. Where the good guy always wins and rides off with the girl.

As I watched their interactions…their complete lack of concern for time…the looks on their faces as they ran around corners, stopping at each clearing to see if there were fish surfacing the water…my mind went back to Mary.


Did she watch Jesus play this way? Laughing and jumping? Throwing rocks and sticks into the water as he called to his siblings?

Did he know from the beginning the enormity of his glory? Or was he able to maintain that child like wonder? His father is God after all! The Creator of the Universe.

When looking at my own sons, it’s rather difficult to take in.

Did Jesus scrape his knees and have common childhood illness’? Did he run to his mother for comfort?

What if he had come as he deserved? There would have been no Bethlehem. There would have been no animals or Shepherds at his birth. There would have been no Mary.

But he didn’t come as he deserved. He came as a helpless infant.

I’m guessing that Mary experienced the pain that childbirth brings that is like no other pain in the world. And that when Jesus was born, it was not a silent night. I’m guessing that she screamed out under the labor of giving birth and that Jesus cried, as every healthy baby does, after being delivered.

I would also guess that his father, Joseph, was the doctor and the nurse. There probably weren’t many midwives on the streets of Bethlehem that night.

So why? Why did he enter the world this way? Or at all for that matter? You have to admit, it’s a strange way to save the world.

I think he did it so that when I look at my son, I realize what an incredible sacrifice was made. I can relate to the pain of giving birth. I can relate to watching my babies grow and thanking God for the time with them and the incredible gift that they are.

There really wasn’t any other way.

There are many, many things that I do not and will not understand in this life.
That’s okay. I’m not called to understand, I’m called to believe.

So in the case of sweet Katie and baby Hallie, I have to believe what a friend said in prayer the other day… that little Hallie’s life has already had more of an impact than many of us will make in a lifetime. Another said that the only reality she will ever know is Heaven. (Now that is a beautiful visual)

The difficult part is not for those who go meet the Savior. It is for those of us who are left behind with the unanswered questions and a sadness that aches as if it will never heal.

How do those without God do it?! How does one who does not believe in a Savior (other than themselves) survive pain that is so unjustifiable? I cannot wrap my mind around it.

In the Father I have a promise of something more than this world. That is what keeps me hanging on during the rough moments.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

In this world there will be sorrow. For those of us who know that this world is not our home, we cling to the truth, that a man, Jesus, came as a baby in a wooden manager filled with hay and then died on a cross made from a tree (one that his father had created), taking all of our guilt, shame and defects, upon himself so that we may not perish, but have everlasting life.

I look forward to meeting Mary and talking with her as one mom to another.

What was your name again?!

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(This post is dedicated to my beautiful friend who is drowning in a sea of self-pity, completely blind to her incredible worth while attempting to numb the pain of reality through addiction. May God save you from yourself, friend. I love you!)

Has this ever happened to you?

Not just to those of you who woke up this morning beside someone who’s name you didn’t know or couldn’t remember, so you slid out from under the covers relieved to find that you were still wearing the clothes from last night. Luckily you were able to slip out undetected and make the walk of shame home or back to your last stop to pick up your car. (For those of you who are reading this thinking, it’s Tuesday morning! Who does that on a Monday night?! Congratulations! You are not a hopeless alcoholic or drug addict.)

I’m also talking to those who forget introductions right after they happen (I know this happens because I do it). Trying with all your might to remember someone you just met who holds the future of your career in their hands. Or someone you were supposed to connect with about a job interview in this bad economy where one cannot take any referrals for granted.

I have heard that when being introduced to someone, if you will repeat their name 3 times in your head, you are sure to remember it. Tried it. Didn’t work. Maybe I’ve killed to many braincells?

How about this one…have you ever forgotten your own name? Sounds crazy, right?

Well, call me crazy, there was a time when I forgot my own name.

Not in the literal sense, mind you, in a far more devastating way. 

It may be better said that I denied my name, ignoring who I was and falling prey to what I had become, which I thought at the time, defined me.


Joy by definition means;

a : the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires : delight b : the expression or exhibition of such emotion : gaiety
2 : a state of happiness or felicity : bliss
3 : a source or cause of delight
 Just look how many different fun and happy ways the word can be written. Google it! You will not find it written in any other way than that which is uplifting and…happy.
There was a time in my life when I was anything but one of these definitions. It’s a lot of pressure to walk around with a name that means happiness, delight, well-being. I mean seriously. How could my mother have been so mean when deciding what to call me?! Knowing that every time I introduced myself to someone they would expect me to be happy ALL the time. Right? I mean, how can you walk around angry, sad or expressing any negative emotion whatsoever when your name is something that means happiness?! (This is assuming of course that she thought through all of the scenario’s that I would be in for the rest of my life)

My mom has said that she almost named me Ginger with a J (Jinger). My dad didn’t like the name, thank the Lord! He said that no one would spell it right and I would forever be known as Ginger with a J. So when I look at it that way, I am incredibly grateful. (No offense to any of you Gingers with a J!)
I had a roommate at the peak of my self destructive behavior who called me out on my bs. When she had finally had enough of my lying, stealing, destructive behavior, she told me that I had until the end of the month to move out. I was so angry with her.
She didn’t ask that I pay her back the money she had given me to pay the utility, phone or water bill, after I spent it on drugs (more than once) or the cash that I freely claimed as my own if it was laying out anywhere. She simply asked me to leave.

She later told me (when I was capable of listening) that she hoped she was saving my life, because instead of a Joy, I had become a Pain. Instead of being a source of light and hope, I evoked hopelessness. (Ouch!)

Pain by definition means;
1: punishment
2 a : usu. localized physical suffering associated with bodily disorder (as a disease or an injury); also : a basic bodily sensation induced by a noxious stimulus, received by naked nerve endings, characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching), and typically leading to evasive action b : acute mental or emotional distress or suffering : grief
3 plural : the throes of childbirth
4 plural : trouble, care, or effort taken to accomplish something <was at pains to reassure us>
5 : one that irks or annoys or is otherwise troublesome —often used in such phrases as pain in the neck 
She was right! I am beyond grateful that she had the courage to stand up to me and say she wasn’t going to stand by and watch me self destruct. I am so thankful that she did not, instead, enable me to continue down the path I was on. That, my friends, is real love. It’s difficult, honest and unconditional.
It has taken over a decade, but I am coming back into my name. Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly (that would be me…the sometimes slowly part!).
Instead of my path of destruction that looked similar to this…

I now do a lot more of this…

 

Today, I love my name. Don’t get me wrong, I can fall into that same old pattern of thinking. The difference being that I now have the tools to snap out of it before I am on a full blown trip of my big ugly ego.

It’s a daily, sometimes hourly, surrender. Turning it over to the One who knows me best. Giving up control and admitting that when it comes to managing my own life, I suck at it. Asking for Divine help. Forget this earthly garble. I want something with an eternal guarantee!  

So today, I am owning my name. FINALLY, at 35 years old. Well, someone congratulate me!

If you are like I was, broken and without hope, but there is no one there to speak truth into your heart, I beg you to reach out to someone at one of the resources I am listing below. Click on the name and it will take you directly to the website. As long as you are breathing, there is still hope.

To Write Love on Her Arms

People of the Second Chance

Central Christian Church: Las Vegas