The Power of Fear

I've been thinking a lot about fear lately.  How easily it can overwhelm me and make me feel lost and alone.  There is so much in our world today that contributes to a fearful spirit.  War, turmoil among people - every day my news feeds are filled with horrible things happening to people.  It often makes me want to just go find a place to hide and not be a part of this world. 

Fear in and of itself is just a word. An emotion that we give way too much power.  The things that I am so often afraid of never come to pass or are way less worrisome than I think they are going to be.

I recall a time where I would easily try new things and I wasn't afraid of adventures or climbing trees.  People were always the hardest though.  I was always afraid of what other people might think about me and my choices and the way my life looked.  Lately I've wondered what happened to the little kid who felt secure and free enough to just climb the tree.  Why does making a choice or trying something new tie me up in knots?

Why do I worry what someone will think about the decisions I make?  Why do I try to pass that fear on to others by making them question what they should do or not do?  Why do I think I need to control the things around me? 

When we live a life that is founded in the here and now and the things of this world - money, stuff, a certain image or expectation we are missing the big picture. I'm learning to not try and control the world around me.  In the past I was afraid of what might happen so I would control the things I thought I could in the hopes of limiting the type of fall out I might encounter - ugly words or hurtful comments.  Of course all I did was put myself in a comfortable shell that became much like a prison. 

I was so afraid of what might happen outside my cocoon I forgot to keep living.  I can't say that I've managed to break out of my self made prison but I am making strides.  I'm trying not to be the over controlled freak of a mom or wife.  I'm trying to trust others enough to say what I feel and not just avoid the topics that scare me.  Now I just need to get brave enough to find a way to connect with some new people.  Find a way to meet some new friends and live a little outside of myself.

It's coming slowly and I know that God is getting me ready for what He wants.  He is constantly reminding me to just trust Him to show me what the next step in my adventure will be.  Because the one thing I do know is that His love is perfect and if I empty myself of me and let Him fill me up then the fear doesn't have room to move into my mind.  It's a daily process of emptying and actively seeking to fill my mind with the love that only He can give me and letting it pour out of me. 

The big picture is way more than just me and my little world.  I have the pleasure of spending an eternity with a God who cared enough to walk among us and help us live without fear.  We can be brave and strong and fearless.  We can love all people without judging or being afraid of what will come from loving them.  With God we have resurrection power living in us and friend - that is super power beyond imaging.  God will and can fill our every need and erase all fear from our lives.  We just have to keep trusting and seeking Him to fill the empty spaces. 

Trust is Hard Work

5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. (‭Proverbs‬ ‭3‬:‭5‬ ESV)

Trust was my word for 2017 and I think that there is still more to learn. Trust takes work. Hard work and daily effort. I learned that a lot of trusting is just letting go of trying to plan out every detail and making it work the way I want.

I have trust issues. There are some reasons and yet no real reason other than the fact that my mind goes to places it shouldn’t in regards to always leaning to the negative outcome of just thinking the worst.  You see I have always kind of been an assume the worst and then anything is better kind of thinker. That leads to some stress and anxiety.

I learned this year to take those thoughts captive a little quicker and not assume I knew how things would go or turn out. In relationships this is essential. I have to actively pursue the positive thoughts and throw out the thoughts based on other people and the past. What I found was I would fall back on thoughts about how someone else did something or didn’t do something and it would evoke emotions that were negative and led to questioning trust.

I tried to memorize verses that had to do with trusting God and then reminding myself when those those thoughts cane up just basically throwing them out and replacing them with the positives. Trust isn’t just an emotion or a vague faith in mankind.  It’s actively choosing trust over distrust. It’s actively reminding myself of the reality of the actions of my God and those in my life. Not the imaginings of a distrustful mind.

What I learned in 2017 was that trust doesn’t just happen and it will be an ongoing lesson. I also learned I am somewhat selfish and prideful so I guess God thought 2018 should address that.  So for this year I’m gonna focus on Humility.

I started reading Andrew Murray’s book on humility and I was immediately hit with this thought. Being humble isn’t just thinking less of myself. It’s not self depreciation. It’s acknowledging that it’s not about me.

So Happy New Year - trust God and others. Remember trust, like Love is a choice.

From Andrew Murray’s book Humility 

Stolen Blessings

“Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”
‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3:12-14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I have always been somewhat independent and proud. I prefer to be the fixer or helper and serve behind the scenes more often than in the limelight. As a believer in Jesus I started blogging for a couple of reasaons. Primarily because my brain and heart were overflowing and I needed to spill that out to process it. At the same time I felt that one of the biggest things that was missing in the many churches I grew up in was transparency.

There was this perfectionist Christian mentality that seemed to preclude people from admitting when they were struggling. Too many were concerned with what others would think and say if they admitted their relationship with Jesus wasn’t perfect. That is a very hard way to live and I really tried to live that way.

But then I found the most amazing thing in those same believers. When I faltered or struggled and actually shared that with someone I was often overwhelmed with help or words of encouragement and even some were willing to step up and say I’ve been there too and I understand. Wow. What a blessing to receive. Acceptance and love in spite of the circumstance or struggle.

During really hard losses or struggles God showed up in those people. When my daughter died a friend called to say God told her to buy me a dress for the funeral. She bought a few and one was as if God said through her - I see you. I see your hurt and I am with you. You see the dress designer was named “Sarah Elizabeth” the name we chose for our daughter. My friend didn’t know. She just shopped for dresses because God said to.

Another time a friend called to say she wanted to do my families laundry while my son was in the hospital very near death. That is my least favorite chore. That experience was probably one of the most humbling. My pride wouldn’t let me ask for help easily and to take my dirty underwear to someone else to wash was very difficult. It was physical reminder of our need for transparency.

We learn from each other. We draw hope from each other. When we allow God to use our brokenness  to reach into others lives we give courage and strength to someone else struggling. When we don’t ask for help or someone offers and we refuse then we steal their blessing. You see there are two sides to every blessing. The blessing of being the giver (helper or servant) and the blessing as the receiver. I prefer to be the giver. I really don’t like being the recipient. And yet I have been blessed so many times by friends who listened to God. A bag of groceries or a check or even a bag of unexpected kitchen items left at an apartment door.

In the past few years I’ve really had to remind myself that I need to be aware of stealing the blessing from the giver. When someone takes the time to obey God and offer to help or share or serve and I say no it’s a missed blessing for us both.

My mom is about to go round three with cancer. She has battled breast cancer twice. Now we face yet another round. She isn’t worried about herself but she is worried. Worried for my dad who is worried for her. And worried for all of us kids who are also worried for her and my dad. But one thing I know is that we are all about to experience the blessing of God. Because regardless of what happens with her health I know that there are people who have walked this road that will come along side of us.  People will bring meals and there will be many prayers. And friend prayer is the most powerful thing we can do.

Prayer connects us the the power within (if you are a believer) and the highest power -God. The God who raises the dead and heals the sick and created the universe. Prayer connects us in the most powerful way.

So I ask any of you who read this to just pray. Pray for my family this week as we face surgery and then information.  And next time someone offers to step into your struggle say thank you and allow both of you to be blessed

Yep I'm a Mom - Not a Step Anything

In 1 Kings 3:16-27 there is a story that has always struck right to my heart. It's the story of two prostitutes who both had sons. One died and the dead child's mother took the live child. When the other mother realizes this they argue and go before King Solomon for him to determine their case. In his wisdom he threatens to split the child in half and immediately the true mother is willing to give him up to spare his life.

“Then the king answered and said, "Give the living child to the first woman, and by no means put him to death; she is his mother."”
‭‭1 Kings‬ ‭3:27‬ ‭ESV‬

What a powerful story of being a mother. 

Sometimes being a mother sucks.  Recently I read an article about mothering as a step mother and the challenges that come with being a step parent.  it gave some great insight and reminded me that we always choose how we respond to our circumstances.  Whatever they are - good or bad we choose how we react and how we use our influence in all our relationships.

I'm on my second go around as a "step" mother and I have made the choice to not be a step anything but to just be a mother.  I chose that role long before I got married the first time. I was always "mothering"/nurturing someone else.  It's part of my nature.  So when I worked with teenagers in residential treatment I utilized that nurture nature and it was hard to maintain the boundaries because I just wanted to mother. 

Sometimes  (really all the time) we have to choose to let our kids go in order to give them life.  Our role is really just to help them to a place of growth where we work ourselves out of a job. And that is really hard.  Deep down in our hearts as a mom or step mom or foster mom or caretaker or wishing I was a mom - we just want to help those in our lives become great adults.  Loving, caring people who become great parents themselves someday.

Lately the reality of my place as a mom has been even more challenging.  Mostly because I can get in my head and and wallow a bit.  My kids are far away (really only a few hours) and they are farther away than my mothering skills can reach.  My mom job is really mostly done with my kids and the kids I've acquired in my first and now second marriage are also grown - and well they have moms.  They don't really need step moms which is really as it should be. 

My kids are blessed with a second mom.  When they are with their father, she gets to "mom" them and does a great job.  My job as a step mom was limited for various reasons so really I wasn't needed to parent them.  And just as my kids are now grown - so are they.

Now, however, we are looking forward to grand kids.  That is so beyond exciting. I consider my two grand kids from my first marriage as mine even though I missed out on most of their growing years and thankfully I keep up with them through social media as much as possible since they live further away.  My kids aren't quite to the kid stage and I have a deep down feeling that when they are to that stage they won't live next door.  Being involved with them will require extra effort on our parts.

Therein is my current mom dilemma.  You see I have a new grand baby, sweet Emerson Grace, on the way.  The thing about grand parenting is you want to be involved in all the prep and planning and cute and fun stuff.  Especially as a mom.   Yet this time its really not needed on my part.  I get to support prayerfully and spoil indulgently. 

It's funny really.  You never stop "momming".  It's the whole nurturing part of you that struggles with wanting to be involved. Wanting to know the daily details of your kids lives - even when they don't want you to - and don't sleep under your roof anymore. 

My therapist husband asked this question while I was whining about my lack of involvement in the lives of my kids and kids by marriage. What void are you trying to fill?  I've spent a little time mulling that over.  You see the wallowing was starting to take me under.  Too much life in a short time was trying to overwhelm this introverted control freak.  And I think I finally have an answer for him.  It's not really that I want to fill up anything lacking, I just still haven't exactly found my place outside of being his wife.

My own mom was just diagnosed with a third round of cancer.  Uterine this time.  And being so far way and not seeing first hand that makes this control freak struggle.  That's the void.  The control void.   Since I can't be right there with my mom, I can't be right there with my kids - so I want to be right here with the other kids and anyone else who comes along - trying to mom.

But that's not my job.  Really my role as the "step" mom is to support the "mom".  I can be there if they need an ear or extra hands or some random something.  What my role really is, is to be the wife.  To support their dad and their relationship with him.  That's my role with my kids father and my role with my husband.  Love him so well that he can love his kids the best he can. 

I call it trickle down love.  (Kind of like a slinky on steps).  The better I love and support their father the better he can be the father they need or want involved in their lives.  You see it's never been about me and it shouldn't be.

So I'm a mom.  A mom who has to remember that the only way to fill any void in my life is to fill it with my Father.  The one who knows what hard parenting is and called us His family while sacrificing His only Son.

Mark 3:35 says "For whoever does the will of God, he is my brother and sister and mother."

So, today, be a mom, dad, sister, brother - family to all you come across.  Love like Jesus loved.

And I'll keep being the mom He made me to be.

It's All About Control

Sometimes I think I have life all under control. When I feel like it's spinning out of control I do the things that I can actually control. Like cleaning house, cutting my hair, coloring my hair, piercing my ears or even getting tattoos.

I've done all those things at one time or another just to feel like I can control something. We think we can control our lives. Make decicions and choices and just like that we will be happy and secure. But then something "lifey" happens. A car breaks down, the ac breaks, the kids choose to do life differently than we think they should or they just go back to college and things change again. And what all that we thought we could control goes spinning like tires on black ice. Fast and furiously heading to the edge of insanity we get freaked out.

I think that's why I like tattoos. They are like permanent markers of something i can't control. I got my first one about ten years ago when my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer. There was nothing I could do. My mom was already a survivor so I got a pink ribbon with the word hope to just say I can't do anything but pray and hope and try to support you. I got a new one this weekend. A permanent reminder that God holds my kids in His hands. That no matter what I do or say or wish for them, ultimately it's out of my control. We got matching tattoos my kids and I. Not exactly the same but similar with one common item- a red heart. Because no matter where we go in life or how far they roam our hearts will always be connected. But I can't control their lives or mine. I just have to trust God.

Trust is hard. So very hard and so out of control.  Because trusting God is admitting that I don't have control. None. Not a drop. I can't make everything and everyone be what I want.  Only God can. And when I feel so out of control I just have to remind myself that I am not in control and not let the feelings overwhelm me. And to not let the enemy use my mind against me. I don't have to be in control. I just have to trust the one who is.

“"Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid; for the Lord God is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation."”
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭12:2‬ ‭ ESV

Through the Fire

Today I turn 51. It's my birthday. I am what people today call a rainbow baby. Before they had me my parents lost a baby. My older brother Kenneth Dale didn't survive birth. If he had I would not have been here. My dad was serving in Vietnam and was only allowed to come home briefly.  The result was me.

Two days ago I celebrated my rainbow baby's 19th birthday. I never fully understood the significance of a rainbow baby until I had my own. The lessons I've learned in the past 51 years all seem to be a direct result of loss. 

As a Christian I continue to learn the importance of loss. I don't like it but I understand it so much more as I grow older. Each loss lesson I experience has the ability to tear me down or draw me closer to the God I gave my life to many years ago. It makes the things in life so much more precious. 

Just this past week we experienced a week without air conditioning. If you know anything about living in the south you understand why that is a significant loss. We lost the cooling air that keeps the humidity and heat at a minimum. We got hot and sticky and even with multiple fans and a couple of window units it was bearable but not quite as cool. When they finished replacing the air conditioner and I came home to a cool house I had a deeper appreciation for cool air. 

Loss does that. It gives you a deeper appreciation of what you have lost and what you still have. For me loss gives me a greater appreciation of relationships. With God, with my family and friends. Over the years I have had different types of losses. Some good and some really bad and some that were significantly necessary. They helped me shed the hard edges of me and help me learn more about how to be like Christ. 

Today as I see post after post on my Facebook telling me happy birthday I am amazed by the various people all over the world who I've been privileged to meet and know in my years on earth. I can't help but wonder how many I have forgotten or harmed in some way. I know I am far from perfect and God continues to break off the rough edges and I am grateful for those painful lessons. 

So as I reflect on the losses that have shaped me I just want to say to all who know me. Forgive me if I've forgotten or harmed you and thank you all for being a part of all that God is doing in my life. Someday I hope to see you all together in heaven and sit at the feet of my Savior and rejoice in the fires I've been through. 

“Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tried you in the furnace of affliction.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭48:10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Why I Married a Drunk - an Uncommon Love Story

I wanted to title this - Why I Married an Alcoholic, but Mike insisted he was a drunk.  To me alcoholic sounded better - you know - for appearance sake.  But the reality is drunk or alcoholic - they mean the same thing. One may be viewed as more politically correct but technically they are both alcohol addicts.

So, yes, I married a drunk.  Knowingly, whole heartedly bound my life to a man who struggled with addiction.  It was hard and messy and beautiful all at the same time.  Today I want to tell you why.

In 1984, I met Mike at college.  I was a freshman, new and scared of just being away from home by myself and excited to be a part of a great Baptist College.
He was one of the first friends I made.  We talked and shared and did the things of the Baptist Student Union together.  He was funny, kind and a lot crazy.  He was my friend.  We never dated, as a matter of fact I dated his younger brother off and on from my sophomore year until I was a senior.  We graduated and went our separate ways.  Both married to other people and yet destined to come together again.

When my first marriage ended I was quickly overcome with fear and loss.  I allowed the darkness of the "what ifs" and the potential of being alone to carry me to a very dark place.  God was working to break down some areas of judgment and pride that I didn't even realize existed.  He used the time to open a crack in my armor that would eventually shatter into a million pieces.

In 2012, almost two years after my divorce I received a message from Mike.  We had very limited contact in the past twenty years or so and I had heard from him and some of his family shortly after my divorce in 2010 in some passing social media messages but nothing of significance.  He messaged to tell me that he was going through a divorce.  At the time I knew he was an alcoholic because I was told by others of his struggles.  As a friend I offered an encouraging word and an ear with the hopes that as I was now through my dark time (or so I thought), maybe I could somehow help him see the light that would come at the end of his dark time.

I thought I understood what alcoholism was.  I also thought if someone had a good enough reason they would want to be sober.  I quickly learned I was naive and trusting and in for a very large come to Jesus meeting.

The Mike I came to know the second time was not the confident, fun loving Mike I knew from college.  He was broken and depressed and so angry.  He was struggling and though he told me of his struggles with alcohol I believed him to be sober and I fell in love.  Because underneath the anger and depression and brokenness I got glimpses of the Mike I used to know and the amazing man that was drowning in alcohol.

I saw a man whose compassion was overwhelming.  He saw the hurt in people and he saw me.  He saw parts of me that no one else saw.  The broken, scared parts that only God knew.

We dated for a while and when the first drunken episode happened I tried to be strong. I was much stronger than I had ever been explaining to him that I had to maintain boundaries for me and my kids which meant he had to be sober.  Regretfully it took a couple of more episodes of drunken behavior and a trip to jail before God decided that it was time to break me apart so He could start to rebuild.

When Mike was in jail God broke some parts of my insecurities into pieces. God reminded me that ultimately I needed to remember that the love He offered through His Son Jesus would fill all my voids and I was never truly alone.  And then God called me to show uncommon love to this man who was a drunk.  To offer forgiveness and continue to love him.  This time with more boundaries and some structure and the realization that if our relationship ended I would be okay.
And then it ended. I discovered I had been lied to and that was where I really had to just walk away.  I said goodbye to a piece of my heart and as I did the pieces of me shattered.  And then - God.  God reached in and started to really do the hard work.  He revealed my deepest fears and showed me that faith was more than words.  It was trusting a God who knew so much more than I did.

God showed me that the love I had for Mike wasn't enough.  I couldn't fix him. I couldn't love him into sobriety.  I couldn't fix me or my kids or Mike's kids or any of the things that he had broken or any of the things that I had broken.

God showed me an uncommon love.  He reached into the deep, into the darkest parts of me and shined the light of revelation over my co-dependent, enabling, controlling tendencies and there was only one thing left for me to do.

Love God.
Not just with my words.
But with my time.
My energy.
My whole being.
Even if it meant I was never going to have the happily ever after.  Even if it meant I would die alone.  I just needed to love God.

And for the next few months God tore pieces of me and began to show me pride and judgment and even in my church I looked at broken people from a different perspective.  Where once I felt like I had it all together I suddenly realized that I was just as broken - just as ugly - just as much a sinner or crazy person as anyone else.  I wasn't any better because I grew up in church.  I wasn't any less broken because I knew Jesus and read my Bible.  All the "religion" suddenly seemed very fake and very wrong.  I realized that what I really needed to do was love God - to be like Jesus and love like Jesus.

After saying goodbye to Mike, God began a work in Mike as well.  A few months later I began to see just how big a work God was really doing.  Mike and I started talking again.  Where I thought there would be the inability to trust - God healed.  Where I was afraid I would question the reality of sobriety God showed me what He had done. God had broken Mike and was putting him back together piece by piece.  We started talking again and this time it wasn't just words.  The actions of sobriety began to speak through Mike.  The one thing I told Mike earlier was I wanted him to be well - not just sober - but the best Mike he could be - whether with or without me.  I knew then it was an uncommon love because if I didn't get to have a relationship with him I wanted him to be the Mike that i saw before he got sober.

That was almost four years ago and we've been married now one week shy of a year.  In that time God has done miraculous things in our lives.  Mike is helping broken people and his compassion and understanding and brutal honesty make him an incredible counselor.  God has restored all that was lost and bound us both together. The difference being that we both daily strive to seek God first.  I don't try to fix him and he doesn't try to fix me.  We seek God and strive to encourage each other to be the best we can be.

We are so far from perfect and in a world that looks for love to fill the voids that haunt our souls Mike and I have found the only love that can fill the broken pieces of our lives.  Not our love for each other but our love for God.  His love is the love that pours out of the cracks of our lives and binds us to each other.  We share an uncommon love - one that only God can give.

I love you Mike.  Happy almost one year.

1 Corinthians 13:13 "So now faith, hope and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love."



This post was inspired by the book Uncommon: Living a Life of Purpose and Pursuit by Carey Scott. You can learn more about the book and order it at http://careyscott.org/uncommon/.