If I could only find myself…

It’s not everyday that I go back in history to the child I was once.  To be honest, I wasn’t a child long enough to really go back there.  My days were forced.  I always had this crazy feeling that I was alone but not alone, if that makes any sense at all.  I remember being a small child and climbing our fence to the top board, closing my eyes and pretending that the wind was simply my transporter to another land.  I would feel tears stinging my cheeks as I begged into the wind, just for someone to love me.  I didn’t realize this was not normal back then.  I never knew what it was like to be the center of all the attention.  I recall being teased by my siblings that I was adopted and I completely believed it, because I knew I did not belong anywhere that I knew.

Going back a little farther…  As my parents separated, my 5-year-old mentality was just that. Terror gripped me with every second of the last day I was a child.  There was a fight.  My mom and dad were yelling at each other and my dad told my mom, she could not take his kids.  He was wrong.  I remember my mom picking me up and rushing out the door, and feeling like I was dying.  What was happening?  Was she really going to take us away?  Every second my mom ran away, my heart was begging her to run back.  My last time I saw my parents together and married, my mom was full of anger and determined to see her plan through.  My dad was sitting on the couch, a coward in my eyes.  Why was he not reaching for me?  Why was he not trying to keep me?  Why did nobody care that they were scaring me?

As we neared the car, I remember looking at the very fence that would soon be my secret getaway and it seeming so tall.  Following it down to another fence that led to my grandmother’s house.  I remember panic setting in as I realized we were leaving my grandma as well! (Technically, she was my great-aunt but we called her Grandma) She was my security.  She was never afraid to tell my parents when they needed to get a grip.  She taught me arithmetic and read me short stories that she took time to write, just to share with me. She told me never to cry unless I planned on doing something about it. She was tough and witty and always looked clean and pressed even when she was troubled.  She took care of people, even when they were dying and there would be no return.  She was bold, and intelligent and oh, how I admired her. I loved her, even when she made me hold lava soap on my tongue for sassing her. I asked my mom if I could just go to Grandma’s house. She didn’t speak at all. I received my answer when my mom set me down and guided me into the car. The answer was, “no”.

Heading down our long driveway, I watched out the window through watery eyes, just waiting for my mom to turn the car around.  Instead, she made a left turn toward town.  On the right, as the car accelerated, I saw the home of my Kindergarten teacher.  She was my comforter, her and her husband.  They taught me to churn butter and reminded me that Jesus would one day be my best friend.  My parents never talked of Jesus, so it was doubtful to me.  I listened all the same though, because everything she ever promised me, always came true.  She was honest, and loving and she believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.  I loved to sit on their couch and run my hands through the pelt that was from Mr. Herbst’s first hunting trip after he and Mrs. Herbst wed. They asked me to come along anytime they did chores and welcomed my presence for any task they might be doing.  It was where I first learned to ride a horse. I remember the smell of Mr. Herbst when he would come in from working outside and how he would always smile at me, even if his arthritic fingers were bleeding from his work.  He was strong and kind and always willing to teach me new things.  I quickly saw my chance and asked my mom if I could please go to Mrs. Herbst’s house.  Staring forward, completely unaware of my voice, I was pretty sure she had already forgotten I was in the car.  Reflections of trees and haystacks strobe past my window, hope lost.

That’s all I remember from that day.  As a matter of fact, that is the last memory I have until a barbecue quite a while later where we met my mom’s future second husband.

It was a warm and sunny day and the air was filled with hickory scents of smoked meats and Summer.  My mom, who seemed unusually happy, was just visiting up a storm.  I think we may have lived in this home but I can’t remember.  I just remember trees and fence and house.  Somewhat of a secluded little prison of sorts.  When introduced to this man, he invited me to sit and talk a spell.  He asked me questions about assorted things, like how old I was, etc.  Just as I started to relax a little, he pulled me close and whispered into my ear. “You wanna know a secret?” He asked. “I don’t like children.” He said it very casually and just as I thought he may be joking, he slid me off his lap and stood to join the adults.  Within a year, he and my mother married.  It turned out, that he proved to be quite the liar as he obviously did like children, just in a terrible way.  He and my mom moved back into the home that my grandfather (technically, great-uncle) had built.  I was so glad to be near my grandma again and even more happy that we would be living there forever so I would never have to leave there again!  At least, that was what I thought.

But we did leave there, as my mother and grandmother could not see eye to eye about the new addition to our family.  She never ceased to voice how little she liked our new ‘dad’.  It was exactly the chance he needed, being out from under the scrutiny of our grandma and before long, our step dad showed his true colors.  Slowly, life began to drain from our family.  We moved to yet another home and my brother who could not stand to be home, moved out of our home and into our father’s home.  My mom was gone more and more storing up funds for a future in the Idaho mountains where we would become self-sufficient and have an amazing life! I remember very little from these days, other than abuse, riding my blue Schwinn bicycle with the glittery banana seat up and down the road, and the lady that lived at the end of our street that allowed us to sit inside with a cup of hot cocoa until the bus arrived.  I think she knew. That I was broken, I mean.  She always seemed to hug me just a little bit longer.  It was numbing.  The more people tried to love me without actually helping me, seemed to only make things so much worse.  I spent most of my time in class, daydreaming and slowly slipping away from the surroundings I had no desire to be connected to.

When my dad actually came to pick us up on weekends, he was so focused on his own life, that rarely did he reach into ours.  We saw him as the victim in the situation and never wanted to hurt his feelings.  Regardless, he hadn’t saved us up until this point.  Why would he save us now?  There was no point in burdening him with the specifics of what was happening in our lives.  My dad had moved back into the home our grandfather had built and when he left for work, or whatever he was doing, I would sneak out to the fence, climb to the top board and cry.  I just wanted someone who said they loved me, to save me.  I wanted someone to see my pain but I didn’t know how to tell them.  I talked to the animals and they didn’t mind.  They didn’t cry, make excuses or even try to explain things.  They surely did not tell me they loved me only to hug me and leave me right where I was.  They always listened.

At school, they did a special class about ‘Good touching vs. Bad touching’ and I learned that I had been experiencing bad touching for quite some time.  It was easy to recognize and just like they told me, I said, “No!” and told a safe adult so they could protect me.  My mom was in the shower and my step dad had taken advantage of her being indisposed in the room literally next to my bedroom.  I told him “No!” and after he smacked me so hard that my ear rang, he left the house.  I was so encouraged by his response to leave me alone, it was easy to tell my mom.  I told her exactly what the school had told me to.  “He has been touching me in a bad way!”  I burst into tears, so relieved it was over.  I saw shock in her eyes which gave way to fear, which led to anger.  She pulled on her robe and went outside to confront him.  I ran into my room to watch out the window but when I couldn’t see them anymore, I started to pack my things.  I had a life-size, stuffed, mountain lion my brother had given me, that I cherished.  He was my confidante and my best friend in the whole world.  I promised to come back for him.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and sobbed at the thought of leaving him.

That Summer, we all moved to Idaho together.  The abuse stopped but hope did not return me until one day, I fell asleep in a hammock, quite a distance from our new home which was still in the process of being built.  I had blisters from peeling logs without gloves on, even though my mom had told me to wear them.  I had the first book from the Narnia series on my chest and I awoke from what sounded like a tree falling right by my head.  I sat up expecting something terrible to be happening around me.  Instead, a swirl of leaves blew all around me lying in that hammock and I could feel goosebumps rising on my arms as my hair blew around my face.  There was a hill that climbed up right behind where I lay.  It was covered in beautiful birch trees, releasing gorgeous leaves in the fall that reminded me of fire.  Those same leaves were swirling around me and up the hill in such an odd way that I thought I was dreaming and had fallen into a Narnian stupor.  The blisters on my fingers however, convinced me otherwise.  My hands stung like mad and I became startled.  I began looking all around for the cause of the crashing sound, but found nothing.  I looked up the hill only to see where the new leaves had created a soft pathway.  Trying to get out of the hammock, I was not quite the master of this yet, I fell onto my hands and tore one of the blisters open.  Man, that hurt!

I was distracted again though.  What was that sound?  I hiked up the hill to notice a strip of trees that were blowing steadily while the others just twitched their leaves in the breeze.  I walked farther into a little meadow that I had never even considered entering before.  The trees circled it but where the creek went through, there was this really strong breeze  that was able to pass through.  A mound nearby was catching my eye and soon the crashing sound no longer even mattered.  When I neared the top of the small hill, I felt the breeze even stronger.  It was soft and high and wonderful.  I closed my eyes and all I could hear was the sound of peace in my ears.  You know, that sound you get when you put earplugs in and everything just seems so far away.  I don’t even know how long I sat there.  All I know is that when I heard a whistle (our call out to each other if out of earshot) I opened my eyes and realized for the first time I had been crying.  My cheeks were wet and cold and I felt like something familiar was happening.

We moved back to Oregon that following year, just our mom and us girls.  We left many things behind, including my hill with the breeze, which I had grown so fond of.  It was okay though, because we would come back, I remember thinking.  We didn’t.  We did, however, move in with our aunt and uncle, the sister of the step dad we had just left behind and were reminded every day of the life we would never be able to entirely forget.  My aunt told me once when her daughter expressed concerns of how her husband looked at me, that I needed to not encourage him by sitting too close.  It didn’t change anything.

When I was 9, we rented a home from a family friend.  I remember feeling so excited because the homeowner was so nice to us and always seemed to be genuinely interested in us. I secretly had always hoped he would be our dad, but it didn’t work that way.  My mom was a hard worker and at that time, focused mostly on trying to get back on her feet.  We rarely saw her and even more rarely communicated with her about anything other than chores and trouble.  It was not exactly the life we were expecting, but who knows what life will bring, right?  The great part about this house, while it being in town was a great downfall, there was a school right down the road, where you could climb these high metal stairs and sit up on the platform where the wind whisked through from the positioning of the buildings, creating somewhat of a tunnel.  I would just sit there with my eyes closed and let the wind blow me to another place.  A place where I was free but wanted.  Every chance we got to go to our dad’s, I would run out to the fence and just breathe.

This is a part of my childhood I avoid revisiting often and to be honest, life didn’t get much better in many areas for a really long time.  However, the years since this time in my life are a completely different story! Have you ever heard the song by Miranda Lambert, ‘The house that built me’?  Here you go!

Well, that is such a picture into how I used to approach my pain.  If I could just go back, somehow and see something I missed in my memories that would allow me to heal.  Well, let me tell you a sad story.  The house that built me, wasn’t a house at all.  It was several houses, most of which I can no longer visit.  All of them have both good and terrifying memories.  Additionally, those houses didn’t build me, they are just the locations that these things happened.  I have never truly felt at home.  Not once in my whole life have I ever felt that the house I lived in was the house I was going to remain in for the rest of my life.  Maybe it is partially because I grew up moving and even after I was on my own, I kept on moving.  I don’t know….

What I do know is that I have always found a way to make wherever I am, where I am supposed to be in that moment… Wait, let me rephrase that… What I do know is that a way to make wherever I am, where I am supposed to be, has always been given to me.  It’s not a pain-free life.  As a matter of fact, this is just the bold print in the first chapter of the book of my life!  Every day, I am faced with the passing of my life.  I don’t like to call it my past as much as passing, because these memories are still very alive and clear in my mind.  They affect my choices, my preferences, my parenting, my relationships, and my walk with Christ.  All of these things matter, but what REALLY matters is the fact that no matter where I was and no matter what was happening to me, at every turn, I was given a place to climb up closer to my Lord and feel the wind blow all my burdens away!

Obviously, God is everywhere, and does not depend on hills, or stairs or even tall wooden fences to be close to us.  Many times I have been on the floor, on my knees, lower than low and felt Him heal my heart, but there is just something about getting outside of your routine view of things that truly make you see, you are not alone and the One who loves you CREATED THE WIND! He washes all your tears away. EVERY time you cry them, He is there, just waiting for you to surrender them.

My entire life has been surrounded by signs that God was there.  From being a 14-year-old 120 lb girl, hitch hiking across the state and making it not only alive but unblemished to being a mom of a child with cancer and from waking up after a night of partying in another state at the age of 15 to being the wife of a meth addict.  I see Gods hands in every single one of those moments in my life… but I didn’t always see them when I was going through them…

Many times, I was pulling hair, sobbing, vomiting, shaking with fear, anxious and flat-out depressed.  I was worried about what I could not control and refused to hand over what I knew I was not even meant to.  I was angry and sometimes mean.  Self destructive and venomous toward those who had hurt me.  I refused to be weakened by life and was DAMN PROUD OF IT!!! I was proud… proud of a life that continuously tried to destroy me and I was single-handedly going to kick the living shit out of it.  It does not take a genius to see what this led to.  Yep… I kept being broken.  I kept falling under attack.  I kept trying to deal with everything that had ever happened to me on my own because I KNEW THE ANSWERS!  Then why in the hell was I so miserable?  Let me tell you why…

I refused to see God’s hand because I couldn’t fathom that He was there and that He loved me and that He hugged me and STILL LEFT ME THERE!  I couldn’t face this because He is God! Isn’t He supposed to be the One that saves me?  COME ON!!! Doesn’t the bible say Jesus loves me?  I had heard it!  It wasn’t news to me, I just didn’t BELIEVE IT!!!  I was pissed and scared and confused.  I had no more trust to give!

Then, Jesus came to life in me.  I had nothing left.  My husband and I were separated and God nailed me every chance He could get with the scripture I had in my head but had refused to accept into my heart.  God challenged me to no longer attempt to use Him like a genie in a bottle but as the KING and RULER of ALL THAT IS HOLY!  He breathed life into me and left me no choice but to acknowledge Him.  He said write me a story, and I threw my paper away.  He said give me your burdens and I held on as tight as I could.  He said let me love you and I yelled to Him, “I HATE YOU!”  …   Then, He went silent.  No longer did I receive comfort coming to Him because the only time I came to Him was when I wanted to see things done… MY WAY.  He stopped reminding me of His words and I found no comfort in anything I sought out.  I had no joy in anything I did.  I had separated myself from God, and He did not punish me.  His silence spoke volumes of a parent giving their child time to figure out that their parent is right.  I recognized it as I was a mother of four.  I saw it and for the very first time in my life, I actually saw God as MY FATHER.  He disciplined me, not with anger but with truth.  That without Him, I am TRULY alone.  I never really knew alone until this time in my life, nor had I ever known what LOVE really looked like…

I still live in this fallen world, and my life has never been easy.  But I am never alone and I never will be… We serve a Living God and His real name is Love.

~For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.  Jeremiah 29:11~

~He who does not love, does not know God, for God is Love.  1 John 4:8 ~

~The God of my strength, in whom I will trust; My shield and the horn of my salvation, My stronghold and my refuge; My Savior, You save me from violence.
2 Samuel 22:3 ~

~Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.   Matthew 11:28~

I pray that in your life, as well as mine, there will always be a place to climb and have your burdens blown away from you, until the next time, you will need to climb again.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Advertisements

Victorious Surrender

    I overslept! Oh crap, I overslept because of the rain! I could hear the horses hooves as they ran past my window, back and forth, communicating in their own way that we were late for breakfast and they were starving! I sat up in bed and just took in the sweet sound of raindrops and horses hooves beating the ground at the same time. Two of my favorite sounds and it was like music to my ears. 

   I went to wake the girls, just to find them nestled in their blankets, eyes open and mouths curved into satisfied smiles as they listened to the very sounds I just marveled in. My presence meant it was time though and they crawled out of bed and threw their jackets on. After a quick trip to the loo, they slid on their boots and joined me outside.  

   As I slid my arms, one by one into my slicker and snapped it shut for only the second time of the season, I realized just how much I love the rain even more when I can stay relatively dry while out in it.  Instantly, my thoughts went to my husband. “I hope he remembered his rain gear.” I remember thinking to myself, knowing that even if he didn’t, he would continue working hard in the elements. He is an amazing provider and works every day to keep us alive and well. My heart was so full, I couldn’t have put it in words even if someone had asked me.

  Gear on, we set out to feed the animals, each being eager for their breakfast.  We said our apologies for being late and heard forgiveness with each chomp on their food. We were even welcomed by hugs from the dog and swirls around our legs by the cats.  The ducks stood back in the far corner, holding their ground, letting out an angry quack or two but their resilience broke as soon as their feed hit the ground and their gate was opened for them to set out on their wild adventures for the day.  The chickens pecked at the ground as if they were already wasting away due to the late feeding. As I tossed handfuls of feed at their feet, they began chattering and gobbling up their food like a bunch of hens in a henhouse. 

   Heading back to the barn, I saw my third child, Jade, coiling up the hose as the bunnies she just fed, nibbled on their goodies. When I stopped and inquired as to her busyness at the hoses, she simply stated she was getting them ready for winter freezes so we don’t have to worry about it once it is upon us. It stopped my heart. All these years of communicating the need for logical thinking in this life and the importance of thinking ahead had finally settled in yet again.  “She is growing so fast.” I thought to myself and pride filled my heart.  It is the little moments like this that God gives me just a peek of my fruits being harvested. I am reminded that without Him, my fruits may not even be fruit, but weeds sucking the life out of everything around it. I am so grateful for His grace and all the times He has forgiven me for not hearing his communicating the need for logical thinking and the importance of thinking ahead.  I smile at my beautiful daughter and praise her for her wisdom. Her smile widens to match mine.

   In the barn, I find Faith, my youngest, dropping hay from the hay pile so she can give the horses their second flake for the morning and realize that even just a year ago, she would have asked for help to do this task. Instead, she just worked joyfully, playfully visiting with the kitten at the top of the pile. The thought that she didn’t need me, not because she was able to do it easily, but because the efforts to do the job herself didn’t seem like such a burden. Above that, she was smiling and finding joy in her morning. I felt God was again showing me the importance of having joy even in the smallest things. It really is what allows us to love our lives, no matter our lives.  

   I remember working at a bakery when I was younger and everyone I worked with hated their jobs but I loved working there. I loved working with my hands and I loved greeting the early risers as they filed in for their pastry breakfast. It’s not for everyone, but it was a beautiful place for me.  Just like here and now, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be sometimes.  Yes, sure, the animals are so beautiful and who doesn’t love petting kittens every morning, but this is a job nonetheless. There are hooves to clean, tails to untangle, poop to scoop, medicine to administer, steps in manure, hay in your bra… hair… pants… boots… everywhere!  When you are in the middle of dinner and your dog decides to bring you a chicken she accidentally killed by playing with or your horse looks at you through your window and you see the fence down behind him, you stop eating, get your boots on, and get out there to deal with the issue at hand. When you are just getting in the shower and you hear a shout from the barn, “Come quick!” you throw on the necessary clothing and slip on boots with no socks and haul butt! It’s a glorified life style and some who try it, back away slowly from the reality of it.  I have lived both lives. One fit, one didn’t.  

   A LITTLE FLASHBACK…

   I struggled living in town. In just 2 years, a lot happened. I dealt with depression for the first time in my life.  I felt like the walls were closing in on me all the time. It was weird. I went from being a happy morning person to not wanting to get out of bed. In hopes of making a purpose for myself, I filled my days with tasks and volunteer positions and pursued a career in sales as well as homeschooling my kids still.  My husband went to work out of state and we accepted two foreign exchange students into our home.  I was no longer thinking logically and I surely wasn’t finding any joy in my days.  I was fighting with my kids and welcoming the fact that my husband could not see me this way. I was a mess.

   I had begun to have medical issues. I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes, I was having serious kidney issues which were always followed by passing stone after stone, and was having what I later learned were panic attacks. Being sick was a very foreign thing for me.  VERY.  AND… I was failing… at everything.  My balance had been shifted and I no longer had any at all. I had lost my way.  Thanks to some amazing people in my life, this was brought to the surface.

   Dropping to my knees in the middle of my living room, I surrendered my life again. I prayed something like, “I have failed, God. I have failed because I am trying to go my own way. I am trying to fill my anxieties with busyness so they will be hidden. Lord, I have begged for your help but I have not waited for your answer. I  don’t even know what is right for my own life. I don’t even know who I am right now. Whisper your wishes in my heart, Lord. Tell me what to do, even if it means doing nothing at all.”  I gave up everything. I stopped doing everything. God cleansed me. He led me to places I never even knew existed. I held positions but was not doing anything in them. He literally halted my life.  Then, He helped me see.  I sent out a plea to every committed position I was in, that I was overwhelmed, I was physically deteriorating because of it and that I was needing to make some changes.  

This is where it gets interesting…  

   I received VERY different responses to this plea.  They were two very different extremes.  It was split in the middle. There were no gray areas. Over half of them responded angry or put out. I was a bail out to them. I didn’t understand what position I was putting them in. I was ungrateful for the things they had done for me (remembering that these being things that benefited them in some way. Business helps, things they could share to show the nature of their character, etc.).  I would say probably 90% of them turned on me, discarded me and even spewed hatred toward me for saving my own life.  (I’m not kidding. That is probably a generous guess) I was shocked. I look back now and see I shouldn’t have been, but I was.  It was the very clarification I needed.  

   Let me tell you about the 10% that responded differently though. This is really all that God wanted me to focus on at that time.  This group of people had a completely different reaction!  I began hearing of others who had gone through this exact same thing and had come to this exact same fork in the road of their lives. I also began hearing people say things like, “Angie, we are so happy for you. We have been praying for you to slow down.” and “Angie, we have been so worried about you. You just look so tired.”  They devised plans to hold me accountable and refused to ask me to volunteer for anything.  They encouraged me to make a plan to do nothing that God wasn’t specifically telling me to do.  I was no longer allowed to volunteer for anything that someone else could do even if it was differently than how I would do it. I was no longer allowed to volunteer without praying about it and waiting for God to answer me clearly.  I was reminded that God had given me 4 beautiful children that were entrusted to me and a husband who worked so hard so I could be home with them.  This 10% cared more about me than the fact that they were going to have to find another volunteer, leader, and/or planner.  I received encouraging words, phone calls and visits to make sure I was staying on track and to let me know I was loved.  A response one NEVER forgets.

   Next up, I realized I was not good at choosing friends.  I tended to choose friends that required extra grace all the time. I have always been drawn to people who needed lots of patience for some reason. I was in no place to help anyone else and really, I was a dry well because I was never getting anything back.  Well, God weeded my friendship garden and I realized, the only real friends I had just happened to be in that 10% and the rest were taken away from me. As I got stronger, they started leaving, one by one. It made me even stronger, and I began to feel a peace I hadn’t felt in years. 

   Then, the owners of our home lost it, sold it, and we were in need to relocate. My husband and son were in North Dakota working, my oldest daughter was not speaking to me and my two youngest daughters were all I had.  We packed and got rid of stuff and packed some more. One evening I felt really terrible and knew my kidney was the culprit. I called my daughter, who not speaking to me, was still there within minutes to take me to the emergency room.  It was kidney stones and a kidney infection. I was sent home medicated and unable to even walk up our stairs, let alone pack. As time got closer, and we still couldn’t find a place to live, I should have been panicking but oddly I wasn’t.  1 week before we were due to be out, my illness which I had pretty much kept from others so they wouldn’t feel obligated to help me, (Gotta love stinky pride, right?) I started to get a little freaked out.  I was nowhere near packed and really was so tired that I almost didn’t even care anymore.

   I had been calling around to realty places and asking for anyone who met our needs on a short notice but hadn’t turned up anything so I was so grateful when our neighbors came and asked if we would be willing to stay at their place for 2 weeks after we were all moved. GOD. I got a call from a realtor that informed me she didn’t know what property I was talking about in my message but she had something that hadn’t even gone on the market yet and she thought we would be interested. Wrong number. GOD. My church called and said that my husband notified them that even though I wasn’t asking for help that I needed it and they would be sending people to help me move. GOD. While moving, I was contacted by a new friend with a horse trailer that they would like to loan their trailer to us for moving. GOD. Friends flooded my home to help me move almost everything into our storage unit. GOD. One gal from church whom I barely knew never left me. She came day after day to help me, brought us lunch and worked side by side with me until the last night I had to be out. We celebrated by eating a burger in my car at almost midnight. The most a friend had ever done for me without expecting anything in return. GOD. He weeded and then planted beautiful kindness into my life. I don’t think that it was any coincidence that the home God gave us is in the country, just 5 minutes down the road from hers. GOD.  My husband came home unemployed due to his refusing to leave me to move twice without him. I was so relieved. GOD. The new house provided a shop and a friend called and offered (We hadn’t even pursued loan options yet) a personal, interest free loan so he could go out on his own. GOD.  We moved out to our new home which costs way more than what we were seeking and yet, we have always made rent. GOD. 

   I look into my daughters eyes, and remember all this and I thank God for all that He has done for us. We have lived here for just over a year and in our 17 years of marriage, we have finally settled.  We are satisfied because He guides us and we are listening.  We probably won’t live here forever. It really isn’t feasible and we feel Him telling us that this is a step in a plan, but we are so grateful to be here. Here being physically and spiritually. 

   I am reminded of other blessings that have come from letting God be in control of our lives. This Summer, my son re-dedicated his life to the Lord and has made vast changes in his life. He gave it all to God. He is no longer a boy, but a man in my eyes. My daughter not only is in constant contact with us but is a beautiful friend in addition to being our daughter. She took the hard road and it is such a blessing to see her choosing to return to God one step at a time.

   When I came in from feeding, I saw my disheveled house.  I saw muddy footprints from Jade forgetting to take her boots of at first. I saw the decks of cards on the table from our family time when my daughter was visiting the day before.  It felt wonderful to know that while I don’t necessarily love cleaning, that I have time to do it and I really wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.  I am grateful for a small house that draws us all close together and is a perfect trade off for my husband being able to work out of the elements from time to time in a shop.  I am so blessed that while we all have to work hard, we are working hard right where God wants us. I am SO grateful to not be living in town. Not because town is bad, but because it is just not where I belong right now.

   I now have peace that reaches all the way down into my soul. The only kind that truly satisfies us. The peace of Christ being the ruler of our heart.  The peace that comes from not having all the answers ourselves but knowing Who does. There aren’t many things that make me afraid anymore, but when I am afraid, I know that I am not listening…

 

   Thank you God, for always loving me. Thank you for seeking me when I refuse to answer. Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for giving me peace that allows me to face the horrors of this world and know that You and only You have the victory. Thank you for allowing me to write so I can share the before’s and after’s of this life You have given me and saved me from. Thank you for all the people who will read this today and be brave enough to surrender their lives to You.  Thank you for the support I receive from them. Thank you for my family, my friends, and the HOPE You have given me through your grace and word.  In the name of Your Holy Son, Jesus Christ, Amen.

“…and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:7

%d bloggers like this: