Then you know today is a wonderful day to shout, Amen!…Roe vs Wade needs to go in Jesus Name! One more victory.
Check out what my friend Bruce has to say today…you won’t regret it.
John 19:10-11 NASB“So Pilate said to Him, “Are you not speaking to me? Do You not know that I have authority to release You, and I have authority to crucify You?”Jesus answered him, “You would have no authority over Me at all, if it had not been given to you from above; for this reason […]Presumption
I’ve been thinking on fear lately, but more so it’s ability to drive a person in a direction that they may not usually take.
Covid’s aftermath is clear to us all. We all have our stories we could share. How criminal we felt when gathering eleven people in our homes, instead of the recommended ten. How we all, at some point, googled covid and it’s symptoms. The fear that passed through our minds for ourselves and for our loved ones. As the pandemic became a way of life for some, it became a constant reminder of fear to others. I have watched as fear of getting covid has kept people in their homes isolated. I have also watched as others got tired of being on watch and got on with their lives.
Fear has an ability to freeze a person dead in their tracks. Their brains shut down and they simply cannot move. On the contrary, fear can cause a person to run for their lives and harness a strength that is almost superhuman.
Fear can disable us in these scenarios and many others. But can fear be a friend? Can fear ever help us to overcome something? I say it can to a certain extent. It can be a motivator.
I had a pain in my lower back one week ago today. A pain that caused me to cry out in tears. Spasm was the culprit. As I laid in my bed not moving a muscle, a fear came over me. Many thoughts hit my brain and set it into overdrive. What is it? How can I stop it? Dear God, stop the pain! It was over in about 15 minutes. Then poof it was gone. I was left with a soreness and stiffness that I had become used to over the months.
Over the next week, fear of that pain returning caused me to finally stop my life and rest. This is hard for me to do, because I am driven most days. But after that pain, I forced myself, out of fear, to chill. It was hard to do but beneficial to my healing.
I am happy I had that fear of the pain. It’s what is helping me heal. I read an article on healing that was published extra into my Bible. It read that God heals some and some He does not. We, of course, must have faith in order for Him to work the miraculous. Remember, Jesus went back to his own land but did not so many works because of their lack of faith? Their unbelief. While God is choosing His verdict on whether we are healed or not, I think He wants to see us make an effort. The article said that maybe God doesn’t choose to heal us at times because there is a lesson to be learned in the pain or in the healing.
Of course God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of love and of a sound mind. I know that, I do. I just wonder how many times we could take a fear in our lives and use to better strengthen us rather than rebuking it and looking down one another or ourselves for feeling fear. While fear is a foe in most cases… I think we can make it friend by using it to better ourselves.
Do you find that in your lowest moments of life is where you find your inspiration to write? If you’re not a writer, do you find in your trials is when you gather a strength you didn’t know you had? In these times, do you find your faith grow?
I am a fixer. I have always been a fixer. My dearly departed friend used to remind me of this often. Although it would make me so irritated when she seemed to insult me with her words; what I wouldn’t give to hear her say them today. Back then I thought it was noble of me to be a fixer. To see other’s needs and try to find answers. Now I see how exhausting it can be. I guess she knew a thing or two. Maybe in this case, it took one to know one.
When faced with a medical problem, do you fixate on it? Do you try to find the origin of the issue. Like when the pain all began. Do you, like me, search for logical, easy answers to solve your medical issue so you can get on with life?
Maybe it’s your marriage. Do you go through the reel of memories to find the moment it all went wrong? Ask others for advice or read all the latest books on how to save your marriage.
Have you ever been in a financial fix and have no clue where the money will come from? Unemployment agencies returning your calls, while you are digging through your things to throw a garage sale to save your behind. All the while you are scrambling to find the answer to fix the issue.
I am this person. No, my marriage is not falling apart. The finances are in the black as well. My health could be worse. I’m dealing with some back pain along with menopausal stuff. No matter what it is, though, I am a fixer. Always have been.
Are you, or do you know those type of people with tremendous faith? The type that do not complain and voice their worries, but rather you hear them say God will handle it, no problem. Just how do they do it? This is a rhetorical question I am asking, for I know it is faith and years of giving it to God that brings them to this place of certainty.
But seriously, how do they do it? While God is always with me, on my mind, and in my heart daily, I still try to find my way through my problems without Him.
Sure wish I was to that point of tremendous faith in my life. The need to fix others has left me for the most part. I used to find myself often in conversation wracking my brain for an answer to a problem that is not mine. This is freeing because it is one thing to have compassion on a friend and pray for them, but it’s quite another to think you have answers to their problems. But the need to fix my problems is still very present. It’s the mere definition of insanity. I think I can fix me so I try. I never do fix me. Same thing, same result. It is always God who does the fixing. In His gentle reminding. In His way of bringing those who love you around to help you. Whether it be because you cannot bend to pick something up so they help you. He brings a check in the mail or a rich uncle dying leaving you just enough money to get out of that hole.
We often think, while we are in our fixing, that we have seen all possible outcomes of a situation until our God steps up. He has a way of of making His will clear. We jist need to sit back and let Him do His thing.
Hi all. I have not been writing on here but I have been reading your posts. They keep me going, having a place to read encouraging words and scriptures.
I finished my memoir. The writing process of getting my thoughts down is done. I started it in July of 2021. When I started it, the words just flew off my fingers onto the keyboard, but over the months, there were some hard times to face. Even though, I had shared most of them on my blog, writing them again, in more detail, wore me down at times. I worry I didn’t put enough God in it. Then again, I remind myself that the story of my life, the process of which He saved me is, about God. I tried to remember that as my hopeful audience would be the young girl who just had an abortion and cannot shake the shameful thoughts that plague her. Or the young woman who always loved God but cannot seem to find Him because she’s so addicted she cannot make it to church on Sunday morning. We shall see…
As I wrote it, I told myself I would figure out the rest later. Well, later is around the corner after I get it all cleaned up. Does anyone know what my next step is from there? The thought of sending it “out there” without any protection scares me. I am aware that the end result would most likely be self publishing, as that seems to be the way of things these days, but I’d still like to try to get a publisher to pick it up….how? Who? Anyone have any answers?
We finished school for the year. That’s a great feeling. I had to do school for my recliner the last couple months because my back has been giving much trouble. I worry about it. I try to find ways to not bring on the pain. I found sitting on hard chairs and pews brings on the pain. A pain that slows me to barely a walk. I know I should get it checked but I don’t want to do that to our finances being that we have one income. One income works for us if we are smart with our money. So I just hope and pray that whatever it has been, will go away. Maybe a pinched nerve will come un-trapped. Maybe.
When you are in pain that slows your mobility, it is all you can think about. It makes you irritable because the things you need done you cannot do because of the pain. Think of those addicted or just hurt from a bad childhood experience. The pain slows their mobility in life. They cannot have the experiences that free people have. Sad.
So summer begins. I am glad for it. My girls are growing so fast, like someone fed them superpowers when I wasn’t looking. I’m so proud of them. They are good, kind girls who love God.
Lexi, my oldest daughter with autism is doing great. She is going to a cleaning job once a week. Seeing a behavioral therapist once a week and two days at days services twice a week. I think the mix has helped her with variety to her days. The changes made that I shared with all about couple months back seem to be helping her.
Thanks for reading. Comment back on publishing and/or prices for Afghan. Your advice is much appreciated!
We have all heard the story of the boy who cried wolf. How every day he would run to his village of a report of seeing a wolf close by. I can imagine the threat a wolf would have on a small community. The livestock that kept them all fed, the pack horses and mules that would do the work of twenty men; how their lives would be in danger of such a fierce predator in their midst. A wolf is a highly intelligent, stealthy predator, one that would need to be taken down. As that boy would run into the midst of the people and cry, “Wolf! I’ve seen a wolf,” the elders and the hunters of the community would scurry to gather their weapons and run behind the boy to the outskirts of town seeking to capture their enemy. I can almost see the faces of the men as they discovered the ruse of the young boy. The boy would laugh and laugh in hysterics at his game of getting attention. Until the day came when they didn’t believe the child’s antics any longer.
Mom was the boy who cried wolf in her many suicide attempts. Thing is, Kerry and I always came running in some manner. I don’t rightly know when this started for Mom, but I can remember as a little girl, the ambulance taking Mom away on what seems like a Sunday early morning. There’s no doubt in my mind that she had attempted suicide many other times in my childhood, but I have either blocked those times out or they, the family, kept us shielded from those times.
She would later, in our adult years, attempt suicide many times with Kerry or I being witnesses in some way. We were the ones she would call when late at night with her alarm bells whistling…I just took a bunch of pills; I just want to die.
One night she did just that. She called me. I called Kerry with the news that Mom has done it again, what do we do? Neither of us slept that night. We didn’t go over there right when she called. I want to say the reason we didn’t go to her is that we felt intimidated to just show up at some guy’s trailer demanding we see our mother. Rather instead we would turn into frightened children with our fear and righteous anger.
After a long night of fearful sleep, we woke and jumped into my car to go check things out. We drove up to what was like a small parking lot across the street from a gas station. On this plot of land stood four trailers. There was no office or trailer park name. Just a place that someone probably rented out. We found the white trailer that we thought the guy lived in. We banged on the side of the trailer where we thought the bedroom was. No one came to the door. We went to the door and the door was unlocked. Not sure what we would find and terrified to see her dead, we now crept down the narrow trailer hallway. The bedroom was in the back of the house. When we got there, we found her laying in the bed. The room was dark.
“Mom, Mom are you awake?” sure enough as the blankets moved, and she was in fact alive. I remember the feeling of astonishment.
“I’m fine. Why are you here?” was her response to seeing us standing over her. Next came that familiar tone of hers where she’s angry with us for being there and for waking her. We insisted that she took a lot of pills and that she may die.
“I’m not going to die. I didn’t take that many, I just need to sleep,” she says in her usual tone.
I can remember this being one of the early times of dealing with the feeling a rage. Anger gone bad, is what I tend to think of when I hear the word rage. I remember how I felt, but I don’t remember what exactly I said. I just remember standing over her and seeing red and blaring angry words at her. I then stormed out of the place.
There was never any talk of it following the incident. Just like when I was a little girl, she would blow me off and treat me almost as if what she had done was my fault.
Maybe she didn’t feel like it was my fault; maybe her anger was just self-loathing. Maybe I just always felt like things were my fault because I wasn’t ever given any explanations.
I’m sure the boy who cried wolf lost his life to that unforgiving animal that day as no one came running to help him. But let’s say he did survive a wolf attack that day. Let’s say he came away with significant injuries, but his life was spared. Do you think he learned his lesson? I believe so.
Sadly, in Mom’s case of twenty or more suicide attempts, she never learned her lesson because every time she cried wolf, we would come running. She would have these suicide episodes well into her sixties. In our defense and those who have a loved one with this problem, I think it’s incredibly hard to turn your head from someone who is threatening their life. It’s not the time to say, well they have to learn their lesson; I’m just going to ignore it. How does one ignore something like that, because ultimately the thoughts are going through your mind are like, What if they’re serious this time?
I refer to these times as death watch. We spent much time fretting through the night, worried that Mom wouldn’t be alive in the morning. When a person does this to a loved one, that loved one can get angry and resentful for being put through the wringer of emotions just to find out they’ve been played.
What beautiful words from a daughter to a loving mother. I hope one day my girls will think of me this way too….
I miss your tasty meatballs, with onions, not cut fine, because you couldn’t be bothered. You broke up crackers into the meat instead of bread crumbs, and after you fried them, I would sneak and pick off the cracker pieces to eat when you weren’t looking. When I came of age, I couldn’t see how […]Spaghetti days
I see you lurking out the corner of my eye
With your plans to throw my world awry
Releasing your havoc and your fury
In suspense, keeping me leery
I know what you are, I know your game
Since the beginning, your lies are the same
I see you hiding behind those eyes
Concealing yourself in a human disguise
But I can sniff you out and feel you near
hair stands up on my neck, it is clear
You’re trying your game on me once more
Silly rabbit, we’ve been here before
With a shout of praise from my voice;
Jesus on my lips, you have no choice!
Get thee behind me, and do not come back
For it is your turn to be under attack!
This is a portion from chapter 14. I still have a way to go. Thought y’all would like an update. I’m still plugging along with it.
Chapter 14: Finding God
Mike got a job that would keep him gone most of the day. He traveled to the city, an hour away, and worked a full day. I was left at Dad’s to get Lexi on the school bus. My day would then be filled with nothing. I did not have a car, which is good because I would have gone and got pills any chance I could. The sitting still and boredom started to kick in. So one day I wanted to read but had nothing to read, so I picked up my Bible and started at the beginning.
I read about creation and on to Adam and Eve and leaving the garden. I had heard the stories in Sunday School and other outlets, like movies and such, but I had never read it for myself. Little each day I would pick it up and read. Who knew that it read like a story?
One Saturday afternoon, I took a nap. I dreamed of doing crack cocaine with Mom and we were in a van careening out of control. I awoke startled and relieved it was only a dream but I knew it was a warning as well. I cannot tell you how I knew it was a warning, I just knew. That dream could have been interpreted different ways. The gist I got then was that if I didn’t do something, I was going to end up like Mom. See I had always told myself I was better than Mom and not so bad off because I didn’t smoke crack cocaine like she had. (Crazy the way we can fool ourselves.) Another way to interpret that dream could have been that the child within me was me and I was Mom in that van wildly out of control. That I would be contributing to a generational curse of addiction. I wouldn’t see this interpretation for many years to come.
When I woke from the dream, I found Mike and asked him if we could go to his mom’s church in the morning. He said he would drive me but he would not go in. At this time I was desperate to go, but not desperate to walk in the doors alone. So I called Mike’s mom Alice and asked if I could ride in with her if Mike brought me to her. She was delighted and eagerly agreed.
I smoked my cigarette before I got her house and I didn’t smoke another until Mike picked me up. That is a long time for a smoker and I can tell you the urge was there. I was greeted by many friendly faces and I went to the alter at the end of the service. It was a quiet, gentle time at the alter for me and I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to find.
Over the months of my pregnancy, I read a little more and more of the Bible. At night, Mike and I would talk about it some. He had a lot of knowledge on the Bible from growing up in the church. He knew all the stories and the characters, as they seemed to me at that time. Every Sunday morning, Mike would drive me to his mom’s and I would go to church with her. Lexi would go with us on the Sundays she wasn’t with her dad.
Each week the pastor would preach from a portion of the Bible. The most amazing thing started to unfold before my eyes as he would take the church right to the part of scripture I had just read that previous week! It was such an awesome feeling and God was becoming real to me in such a loving way. I see now how He was saying to me, Here, child, let me explain what you read last week. He was cementing His word in me!
Scattering like bugs on hot cement
People frantic, can you hear their lament?
Fear has taken control, a driving force
Determined lives now thrown off course
Seems as though they run to find a truth
Willing to listen to sputterings of the uncouth
Fingers of blame pointing to all four winds
As the soup of truth gets more and more thinned
What do You have to say about it all?
What do You tell them when they call?
I’m sure love and forgiveness are first on your lips
Do they know they can guzzle from your well, rather than tiny sips?
In the light I see tiny dust particles swirling
As truth is lifted off its shelf, twirling
I hear the slow creaking of a Book being opened
A place where they can always put their hope in…
A map, a guide to light their way
If only they heed what Your words say…!
Behold I am doing a new thing, it shall spring forth
I will bring you out of the wilderness, you’ll find true north
Our Guide, our Truth, and our Way
Is coming soon, humble yourself and pray