but, God

I heard a song for the first time the other day and I haven't been able to stop playing it.

The more I played it, the more I actually heard it. There was a line in it that I just couldn't get off of my mind.
I don't write in my blog much anymore because it was just easier to write my heart and hit post on a Facebook feed. I was reminded that the reason I started it was to be a place my daughter, and now both of my girls, could read about who their mom was. I wanted her to know my heart and my words even if I was no longer here to share them with her. When you have the medical past I have had, you think about stuff like that way more than you probably should. So, I will try to be better about sharing my heart here. Back to the story.

Goodness of God. That is the song.
The line is "All my life you have been faithful and all my life you have been so so good."

For a girl that was molested at the age of two, raped at 15, assaulted at 19, lung failure at 20, heart complications at 21, blood disease at 23, physically and emotionally terrorized at 24, suicidal depression and severe anxiety disorder, and honestly a host of other mental health issues and horrible experiences...

Well... it became really hard for me to say that He had been faithful and good to me. I've been thinking on this and praying on this and I still just couldn't get past it. I had never looked at my past and blamed God. Life is life and sin is on this earth and bad things happen to good people. That is just how it is. God didn't "do" anything to me. I know that. But knowing that, and feeling like He had actually been good to ME was just really hard.

Last night I heard a man speak about his journey to salvation. He said so many things that I will remember forever, but one thing that really stuck out to me was this "God used my mess for His message." Those words resonated with me because I always refer to myself and my past as just a mess. I was a MESS.
Since that day that I surrendered my life to Jesus, my life has been transformed. I had lunch with a friend today that told me I sure have come a long way from the ice cream shop we met in 15 years ago. I have. I really have. God has done such a beautiful work in my life and given me a peace that I will never be able to explain unless you've experienced it for yourself. His goodness really does chase me. He has given me HIS very best. I am in awe of His favor.

My mess was going to happen regardless. The girl who molested me. The man who raped me. The health problems. It was all going to happen because there is sickness and evil in this world.

The way He has used my mess for His message is because I can share the gospel with the teenage girl who was raped by her neighbor and she knows I really do understand her shame. I can witness to a woman that was abused by her husband because I have lived through that torture. I can pray with the grandmother who suffers with an autoimmune disease because I understand chronic and unrelenting pain. I can hold the hand of the young mom who doesn't think she can live another day because I have had those exact thoughts.

God was faithful. He is faithful. He does not say we won't experience the worst things a human can go through, but He did say that He WILL USE IT FOR GOOD.

Genesis 50:20
But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, in order to bring it about as it is this day, to save many people alive.

A lesson in leaving..

One year. That is how long I was in an abusive relationship. In that short year I became a shell of my former self. I learned to take the blame for every single thing. I learned to apologize when he messed up. I learned to always look up in terror if my phone rang. Even though it was only my mom. Especially if it was my mom. I could write a novel about all the things that changed in me during that relationship. You know what I hate the most though? That I’ve been happily married for almost 5 years, together 8, two beautiful children, and yet I still get scared. Scared that if I raise my voice in a disagreement that his hands will smash against my face. Scared that if a friend wants to hang out that I shouldn’t even ask because I won’t be allowed to because I’m lying and just want to go have sex with 27 men. Scared that if my phone accidentally plays a loud video and wakes him up he will drag me down the hall by my hair.
My husband has never once, not even for a second, given me a reason to be scared of any of that. But my past has. And I hate that I still can’t just truly relax and enjoy my happiness because of what some jackhole did 14 years ago, for only 1 year...


Leave. Run. Get help. Therapy. All of it. Don’t let someone destroy you  in the name of “love”. It’s not love. It’s control. You deserve better. There is better. And if I can promise you one thing, it is that it will not get better. They will not change because they promised they will. What started as a slap will turn into a punch and then that will turn into a gun down your throat begging you not to keep doing this to him. You can’t help them. You can’t fix them. But you can save yourself. You can be helped and you can be fixed. You just have to be the strongest you’ve ever been and walk out that door for the last time.

Unconditional Love.

My dad said something in his sermon this morning that has been on my mind all day. I haven’t written here in awhile because there has been so much going on, but I’m pretty sure this will take a minute to get all of my thoughts out. 

I was so proud of my dad. He and I don’t always see eye to eye on things. It’s actually become enjoyable to go back and forth with him on so many controversial topics. I am a strong woman with strong opinions that are based on my own life experiences. I will go toe to toe with anyone, but my dad and I have only recently learned how to do this without becoming aggravated or upset. I think the reason is because I finally learned how to share my thoughts while still being respectful. We have had some wonderful conversations since then. 

This morning he brought up the topic of late term abortions. I instantly got nervous. What was he going to say? How would he respond to this, from the pulpit? I was surprised and proud, so very proud of my dad in this moment. Now I am paraphrasing, and I hope I say it right, but he made an appeal to Christians. He asked that we remember to love as Christ loved. Forgive as God forgave us. We’ve all heard that right? But he went on to wonder how many abortions could have been prevented if these young women were not scared of disappointing their Christian parents. The fear, the shame and embarrassment, the condemnation that would be placed on these girls that was too much to bear so they tried to do whatever they could to prevent that. He was not saying this was why everyone chooses an abortion. Obviously it’s not. I think he was simply saying as Christians that we need to make sure we aren’t part of the problem. 

If we get too caught up with rules and religion we can miss the opportunity to show grace and love. Just because you don’t think something is right or holy or what God wants, is absolutely no justification to treat a person badly or push them away or as some parents do, shun them. This applies to so many things that are “biblical” that I see people do. 

I have given my parents every reason and opportunity to “shun” me. From the choices I made to the people I’ve dated, even the way I’ve treated them. 

Not once, not one single time in my entire life have I felt like they didn’t love me unconditionally. My dad is a pastor. I have embarrassed him in ways that I can never apologize enough for. When I got divorced and was dating a woman I walked hand in hand with into his southern baptist church and sat in the front row. Not once did he condemn me. Not once did he tell me to leave. He hugged my neck and said he was glad to see me. 

I am not naive enough to think that wasn’t hard for him. Of course it was. But he showed me the love of our Heavenly Father because that is what we are called to do. If I would have been rejected, would I have ever wanted to cultivate a relationship with Jesus? Much less ever go to church again or even be open to hearing anything about God’s so called love when my own parents didn’t show me that love? 

I also urge you to remember as Christians we are the ones that are to be held to a biblical standard, but until someone decides to follow Christ, our standards or rules or expectations don’t apply to them. If you are only focusing on sharing God’s rules and not God’s love, how will you ever reach anyone for the Kingdom of Heaven? And isn’t that what we are all called to be doing? 

mental illness anonymous...

It has been an emotional night. I don’t think I’ve had a cry that good in a very long time. It’s been awhile since I’ve ripped myself open for this blog. I guess tonight is as good a night as any. 

It started with a relaxing bath after I put the baby to bed. My husband is at work so I could put the music up loud and sing to my heart’s content. I put the Pandora on my usual pop station I have been listening to lately and waited to belt out some emotion. Not one single song was giving me what I wanted. I probably hit skip 50 times. I backed out to the search page and scrolled to find a new station. I kept glancing at the Lauren Daigle station that used to be the only one I’d ever play. I didn’t want that though. I didn’t want revival, as my cousin and I call it. I wanted to avoid feeling on that level just a little bit longer. I kept scrolling. There had to be something else that would give me what I need right now. Nope. Back to it. Just pick it already. 

Here I am in my relaxing tub trying not feel things and the very first song is Do it Again. If you aren’t familiar with the song, it basically just said every single thing I had been needing to hear, but not asking to. I cried. Hard. Like the sobbing, can’t catch your breath cry, and I hit repeat when it was over because I knew there was more to come. At the end of the second time I admitted to myself that I was just in over my head. 

Guess what the very next song was that came on my random playlist? Yep, In Over My Head. Just when I thought I couldn’t break any harder, I started crying a new cry. A healing cry. A releasing cry. A surrendering cry, if you will. I realized in that moment that I had pulled away from the one thing that could have actually helped me. 

I found out in April of last year that I was pregnant with my second child. I didn’t handle it very well. I was terrified. I had this mom of one thing down. I was good at it. I loved it. I had a lot of support and she is an amazing little girl. I just felt like I could handle life. I wasn’t having panic attacks. I wasn’t feeling overwhelmed. It wasn’t always easy, but I felt like I was enough. I did not feel enough for two. I think that I was subconsciously upset at God for giving me this second tiny human to take care of. I questioned Him. How could you think that I, me, the girl who couldn’t even wash her own hair 8 years ago because she had a complete nervous breakdown, that girl? You gave her two?! What are you thinking??!! 

I now have a 7 month old and a 5 year old. It’s hard. It is hard to try and be a good anything to all things. I want to be a great wife. I want to be the wife that has dinner on the table and available for all other wifely duties with a happy heart. I crave that. Not just doing it all, but loving that I even get the opportunity to. I want to be an amazing mother. A calm and patient mother like I had. These are the thoughts that overwhelm me. When I fail at being an ok mom, much less a great one. 

I started thinking in my bath tonight that I wish there was more for people who struggle with mental health. I wrote a rant text to my friend about my hopes. 

-Why don’t people with mental health get assigned sponsors? People in AA have a sponsor. The one person that has said, call me, anytime, call me and I will be there. That needs to be a thing. Mental health needs a universal style support group just like AA and NA. Where there are common mantras you can recite when times are hard. Where there is a meeting around every corner when it’s been a hard day, week, minute. A human being that meets you and chooses to be a safe place in your mess. People always say to call them, but if they’ve never dealt with mental health issues then they would be as useless as I’d be to a drug addict making that call. I need this to be a thing. 

That may sound like I’m describing a therapist, or a counselor, but I’m not saying that needs to be replaced. I’m saying we need more. 

Not everyone can afford therapy. Not everyone can open up to a professional sitting in a chair across the room with a notebook in their hands. Someone that you will assume has no idea how you actually feel, they just read about it in books. Finding the right therapist can take time that some might not have. I’m talking about the desperate moments. The middle of the night moments when you feel so alone. 

I started thinking about how I could do more than just wish. I started thinking about what I could actually do. Then I realized it was already done. 

There is a building on almost every corner where the hopeless can find hope. 

There is a place filled with other people just like you. Lost people. Broken people. People looking to be saved from their darkness. 

It is the church and God is the sponsor. 

Then I remembered that I said in my earlier rant that I wanted there to be a human being. So that is my calling. I want to find a way to help bridge the gap between the ones suffering in their darkness and the house of light. I don’t know what that looks like right now. But that will be my prayer. 

God, show me how I can use what I have been through and what you have brought me out of, to help the ones still suffering. Make my darkness useful to your light. Use me. Come and do whatever You want to. Amen. 

I am a failure...

I was talking to someone earlier tonight about failures. I used to look at my past and see all of the failures. I failed to graduate my first attempt at college. I failed to succeed in the military. I failed when I owned a business. I failed at relationships. It is overwhelming when you look at life like that. 

Instead I choose to look at it like this- 

My first attempt at college taught me about sports medicine and massage. That knowledge has been amazing throughout my daughter’s life. I massaged her when she was a baby, through her growing pains, and when she hurt her ankle in gymnastics. That failure prepared me. 

I was medically retired from the military. While it may not seem like a failure, it always felt that way to me. My body failed me.  My experience in the military gave me the knowledge to connect with my husband in ways most couldn’t. The disability that I receive enables me to be a stay at home mom and care for my two beautiful babies without putting all of the financial strain on my husband. My GI Bill that I received also paid for me to return to school and ultimately finish with an MBA. None of these things would have been possible without that failure. 

I bought a hair salon from a friend that was struggling with her health. I realized after that I had no business being in that world. It just isn’t who I am. I have two looks, a ponytail or down. I learned so much working with those people and built relationships that are still the most valuable that I have. I also learned how to take care of and style curly hair. If you have ever seen my child’s hair you understand the importance of that! Lastly, I learned that for me to be a business owner, it needed to be something that I was actually capable of doing myself. Ten years later I am a business owner again and definitely learned from those mistakes. 

I read somewhere that bad relationships make you appreciate when you finally have a good one. That is so true. Sometimes you have to kiss the frogs to find the prince. I found my prince and all the frogs from my past were lessons in how to be the best wife and partner that I can be. I am thankful for those failed relationships because they are a reminder that even on the hardest days of my relationship, it could never be as bad as it’s been before. 

Failure is a part of life. Why not just change the way you look at it and appreciate it for what it was. A lesson. Lessons bring knowledge and knowledge is power. 

Surrender

I've had something on my heart for awhile now so I just have to share it. 

I had a family member say something a few years ago that has stuck with me for all of the wrong reasons. This wasn't some profound key to life kind of thing, it was quite the opposite. He said something along the lines of Christians were the weakest people alive and all we do is suck on God's tit because we aren't strong enough to get through life without it. 

I don't know why this hurt my feelings so badly. I was offended but not entirely because of my own faith, it was because he said it in front of my dad. The preacher. The strongest man I have ever met. He was calling my dad weak. I couldn't even speak I was so shocked by this. Now my dad is obviously unfazed by it and doesn't even acknowledge that anything was said, (you know, because he's strong...) while I'm just sitting there thinking of all of the ways to tell this guy just how wrong he is.  I never ended up saying anything to him. He died this year from a drug overdose. 

I often think that if maybe I had just found the right words to explain to him just how wrong he was, that maybe he would still be here. So because I never had the opportunity to share my thoughts with him, I'm going to share them here. Hopefully this can help you or someone you know understand why having a relationship with God can actually make you strong in spite of all of your weaknesses. 

I've written before that quoting scripture to a nonbeliever is comparable to trying to convince someone that Harry Potter is real. It just sounds impossible. It sounds crazy. It sounds like make believe. But here's the amazing part, when you actually believe in it, it all just makes sense. It all proves to be possible. It doesn't sound crazy anymore, it sounds life giving, hope making, miraculous and freeing. 

I was in church my entire life. If the doors were open, we were there. I grew to resent that. I wanted to play with my friends on a Sunday night, not be at the church for GA's or Training Union. When I was out of my parents house the last place you were going to find me was in a church. I was finally FREE! But that is actually when the chains came. I made so many mistakes in my life. If it was wrong, I tried it. If it was bad, I was good at it. I didn't find strength or freedom in these choices. I found loneliness, pain, consequences, brokenness, and I had never felt more weak in my life. 

I remember very specific moments in my life where I felt like I was at the bottom and I called out to God. Help me! I can't do this anymore! I need you! Come to me! 

He never came. 

I stopped calling out to Him. 

I just got deeper into my depression. Deeper into my sadness, brokenness, and hopelessness. It wasn't until I was almost 30 years old and was in the middle of actually trying to end my life that I was reminded of a song I grew up singing in church. I Surrender All. I had never done that. I just asked and asked for him to come to me, but I never had any intention of waving my white flag of life and turning it over to Him. I still had a life to live. Decisions to make. Stupid things to do!! Sin to enjoy! Not this time. This time I knew that I didn't need to ask Him to come to me. I needed to go to Him. Give myself to Him. Surrender. All. Every single ugly bit of my shame and brokenness. And He took it. All of it. I was washed clean, and day by day I just got stronger. Over time weakness left my mind, anxiety left my mind, fear left my mind. Those things do not get to take up residence in my head any longer. There just isn't room when it becomes filled with hope, love, trust, faith, and peace. 

Peace is something that he had never known. Drugs can't allow you to have peace. They only destroy. 

If you want to know what true peace feels like, it's only a simple prayer away... 

My guardian angel...

The day that someone passes away is forever engraved into the hearts of the people that loved them. The anniversary. I always hated calling it that. Anniversaries are celebrations. You've been married for 50 years or you've been at your job for 20, lets celebrate that. The day that someone stops existing as we know it is not a celebration. It's something else. It is pain. If I would have known that this day would be the last day I would ever hear your voice, I never would have hung up the phone. 

I've often wondered why this death affected me so greatly. I couldn't even try to tell you the exact date that other people in my life have passed away, but this death, this pain, this day, shakes me to my core even still. I think I may have figured out why. 

Her death gave me life. 

She was 16 when I met her. If you knew her, she could easily be described as being full of life. She practically bounced when she walked and had the biggest smile that could lighten even the darkest of rooms. She couldn't tell a story without it being the biggest story you've ever heard. The way she talked about the things she loved made you want to love them too. 

I went through some of the hardest times of my life in the few short years I knew her, but it was truly impossible to have a bad day around her. It just didn't even matter what was on your mind, she would have you laughing in minutes. These are the things that I hold on to. These are the traits that I try to bring into my own life. I want to live a life that she could look down on and be proud of. Because before she died, I didn't even want to live at all. 

Suicidal depression is what they called it. My own mind wouldn't stop trying to convince me that suicide was my only answer. It feels foreign to even write that as I haven't had a single suicidal thought in over 7 years now. But at one time, and for many years, it consumed me. 

I need to be clear, her death was not some magical button that was pushed in my head that made my depression disappear. I got help. Real help. A lot of therapy. A lot. But she was why I kept going. She is why I never stopped fighting for my own life, I guess because I couldn't fight for hers. I refused to allow her life to just end there. She may not have been able to live the rest of her life, but I damn sure could and I refused to waste one more second of it stuck in my own head and in my own pain. I was going to live. If I couldn't do it for me, I was going to do it for her. 

There is a song that I cried to after she passed away. It's a song called Hear You Me, and this phrase cut right through me- 

And if you were with me tonight
I'd sing to you just one more time
A song for a heart so big,
God wouldn't let it live
May angels lead you in

It came on my Pandora the other day as I was driving home. It instantly brought me right back to the pain of losing her. Then the very next song that came on felt as though Jessica reached her hand right down from heaven and made this song play. It came on right as I was reaching the top of the Hale Boggs Bridge. The  exact spot on the bridge where her accident happened and her life so tragically ended. I was so emotional I had to pull over at the bottom of the bridge until I could stop crying. If you know me at all, you know my obsession with lyrics runs so deep. I obviously don't know how the spiritual realm works, but I'm just going to have to take this as a message from my very own guardian angel. 

I will never let you fall
I'll stand up with you forever
I'll be there for you through it all
Even if saving you sends me to heaven

I can't even write it without crying. I wished so many times that I could have taken her place. Take me. I've lived a life. She was just getting started. Sadly, that's not how death works. God doesn't "take" people. Life is just that, life. It ends in death. Sometimes through sickness and sometimes through accidents that seem so unfair and occasionally by our own doing. You will never read that story from me though. Her death continues to give me life. I will continue to mourn for her every year during this time because I miss her. I miss her so much. It physically hurts. It hurts every time I think of her, but anniversaries just put a spotlight on the pain. 

Thank you for letting me share how this life changed mine in just a few short years. You never know the kind of impact you can have on someone, in life or in death. Try to always choose kindness. 

I will miss you forever and think of you always my beautiful Jessica. Even though it is only the memories of you I am left with, the memory of you is still better than never knowing you at all.

05-06-10