My Weekend

Once again, I find myself awake. It is 1:15 in the morning and though I have to work in just a few hours, my brain appears not to be concerned by that minor detail. So...my thoughts turn to my weekend. It was amazing. I am thrilled that I can say that because at times, it was touch and go. The weekend could have gone either way. Thanks to my wonderful family, I have some beautiful memories to store away.

My weekend starts on Thursday night since I don't work on Fridays. I've been taking a Biblical Counseling class on Thursdays from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. It is a fascinating class but it makes for a very long day. This week, the class was cancelled at the last minute because the teacher was sick. Though I felt bad about that, I was somewhat relieved. I was feeling a bit rundown and was also struggling to get into the "Christmas spirit". I decided to do a little Christmas decorating with the sudden free hours. I managed to set up a couple of artificial trees (I had decided last year to skip a live tree because I didn't want to have to ask for help in getting it.) I love the lights so I like to set up multiple trees. I went slow Friday morning but then got going and cleaned the kitchen, dining room, and living room. That may not sound too exciting but I felt so much better. I like a clean and tidy house, especially during the holidays. Then I rewarded myself with a little sewing time and got a skirt put on the dress I've been working on for Felicity. After that, it was time to get all gussied up to accompany my dad to the Senior Banquet at church. It was a pleasure to spend the evening with him and I was reminded of how fortunate I am to have him and to have such a close relationship with him.

Saturday morning I continued to attempt to do a bit of decorating and also tackled cleaning my room and bathroom. I was beginning to lag, however, and I realized that the whole "decorating for Christmas" thing all by myself was starting to get me down. I kept at it, though, as if sheer will power would change my attitude. Mid-day, I got a phone call from Tammera, my daughter that lives in Tucson. She LOVES Christmas so her enthusiasm is infectious. She is expecting her 3rd baby any day now. It was so fun just to hear her voice. I miss her a lot! Later that evening, I had a long phone conversation with Sarah and we talked of serious things and I was again struck by how blessed I am. My girls care so much for me and I am so glad that we can talk about most anything. Later, my oldest grandson, Gabriel, came over and was spending the night with me. I had set up a little Christmas corner in my bedroom with a couple of very small trees. At first I thought it might be a bit pathetic, to have Christmas trees in my bedroom. But as I said, I love the lights, so I decided to relax and enjoy them. Gabriel and I sat in relative darkness, in front of the trees, and I read him the Christmas story. He loves the part where the angel Gabriel speaks to Mary. This kid keeps me on my toes. When I read about the angel telling Mary that she would have a baby who would be God's Son, he asked, "Isn't that like Mary being God's wife?" He is 9 years old and we proceeded to have a conversation about how God planned for Jesus to be born, Jesus being both God and man and also talked about the concept of the Trinity (in very basic terms). What a privilege it is for me to have this time to share with him. On a lighter note, we then climbed up into the attic, a space that is accessed by a ladder in my closet. He isn't usually allowed up there but we got comfortable on a blanket surrounded by all the junk that I store up there and we read "Horton Hatches the Egg". He thought it was pretty cool and suggested that we sleep in the attic. As good an idea as that was, I opted out for the night and suggested we plan ahead so that we could actually make a bed instead of making Grammy sleep on the plywood.

This morning found me helping in Kian's Sunday School class where I have somehow ended up volunteering "temporarily". Each week, I enter reluctantly, but each week I leave being glad that I was there. I am helping my friend, Armida, who felt God called her to pitch in when the revered Miss Pam moved down south. I just sort of tagged along thinking that I couldn't let my friend tackle it alone. So here we are, two relatively old women, trying to manage about a dozen 2, 3, and 4 year olds. Thank goodness for the teenage girls who have taken pity on us and come to help out. We'd be lost without them.

After church, Jen and Zac informed me that they were coming to my house to help me finish decorating. They knew I had been struggling a little with that whole project. Zac has been very sensitive to that and has initiated a day for the last couple of years to get me going. I took their 3 oldest home with me while they went to buy a dishwasher. The whole "reading in the attic" had been so successful with Gabriel that I decided to repeat the experience with the Hanna kids. They each picked out a book and climbed eagerly up to the attic where we read while we waited for Jen and Zac to get done with their shopping and bring us pizza. While in the attic, the kids discovered some old Fisher Price toys that I had packed away so we got them down and they happily played with them for quite a while. Later, we added a newer Nativity set. They had no problem playing with the baby Jesus and the manger along side of the gas station.

Zac drug all the decorations out and we made quite a mess but we got the trees "dressed". Donny had to work today but evidence of his care for me was demonstrated when I found extra little trees very lovingly packed so neatly and the boxes labeled and the extension cord that I needed tied up in a nice bundle, all done last year when he helped me clean up after Christmas. Though Melissa wasn't with me, I knew she was home, happily sewing on the machine I had recently gotten for her. It does my heart good to know that she now shares my joy in sewing. 

Zac and the kids surprised me with a batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies plus a delicious dinner of chicken, couscous and salad. Could the day get any better?

My dad joined us briefly...

Who can resist that chunk-o-monk?

So now I sit in the quiet of my room, enjoying the lights in my "corner", and reflecting on the blessing of family, the gift of God's Son, and the joy of a weekend that reminded me that I am not alone.

Midnight and still counting...

I have to work in the morning. What is the matter with my brain? It just won't shut off tonight. I'm not depressed, not upset, not worried. I'm just...awake! I decided that I may as well jot down a few thoughts that I want to remember later.

We are doing a study on Proverbs in my Tuesday night Women's Bible Study. Tonight's lesson was on money and wealth and contained valuable advice concerning too much money, just enough, and poverty. One thing Proverbs makes clear; wisdom is to be a much higher priority than money. And with wisdom comes understanding, peace, honor, and a spirit that pleases the Lord. One of the pitfalls of money is that we can begin to trust in it instead of in God. If a person is particularly wealthy, I can see how tempting it would be to think that you're insulated from life's troubles and to believe that your money will somehow exempt you from suffering.

I'm far from wealthy. But I realized, while doing this lesson, that lately my focus has been on money a bit too much. I've been weighing options, trying to figure out how to support myself for the rest of my life. I am blessed to own a home and though I have a mortgage, it is still mine and it will be an investment that I can sell one day and hopefully, generate income. My thoughts have been spinning as I have considered multiple scenarios for enabling me to eventually retire and still survive. I have an excellent realtor (Steve Holman) who has been advising me, a successful accountant friend (Ken Jones) who has graciously offered his expertise, an investment specialist (Jim Watts) who is helping me to plan, a great tax person (Kathy York) who is familiar with my situation and a father (Bob Hager) who is 100% supportive and is also a fabulous listener. What a team! And there are others that God has surrounded me with as well who are available for whatever I may need.

That's all good! But it can also be overwhelming and consuming. I know that God wants me to be prepared, to plan, and to be a good steward of what He has given me. But in my quest for the "retirement plan" , I have come dangerously close to placing my trust and finding my security in the "plan", in the money my house might generate, in worldly "wealth", instead of trusting in the God who has lent me all that I have. I am grateful that He pointed that out to me this week. There's still hope for me!  :)  And I haven't strayed too far - by that I mean that I haven't gotten all crazy about trying to push things to happen or trying to hurry up and finalize something, anything, just so that I can say, "all right, now I'm set. I can live securely the rest of my life." That will never happen, no matter what I do, so I'm glad I didn't get to that point. But I want to be cognizant of the fact that I need a delicate balance. I need to respond to God's leading as He gives me the wisdom to do so, and I need to realize that His leading may come through some of the experts that He has provided. I need to do my part by budgeting, working hard, and managing my money wisely. But I also need to wait. And trust. And know. I need to know that God will direct me when the time comes and He will let me know what I am to do. And I can let it go and rest in Him and I don't need to be anxious. What peace there is in that! He knows what I need now and what I will need later. I don't need to present Him with a spreadsheet of expenses! He's got me covered and if I focus too much on my financial situation, I insult Him with my lack of faith.

I'm kind of excited. Low and behold, I don't need to know it all. I don't need to plan it all. I don't need to control it all. I just need to be prepared to be obedient to the God who has His plan for my life perfectly mapped out. It's awesomely freeing!

Proverbs 16:20

New International Version (NIV)

 Whoever gives heed to instruction prospers,
and blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord.

Proverbs 30:7-9

New American Standard Bible (NASB)

⁷ Two things I asked of You,
Do not refuse me before I die:
⁸ Keep deception and lies far from me,
Give me neither poverty nor riches;
Feed me with the food that is my portion,
⁹ That I not be full and deny You and say, “Who is the Lord?”
Or that I not be in want and steal,
And profane the name of my God.

My grandchild and Lord of the Rings

I have a grandchild out there somewhere. He or she may have already been born but maybe not. They might just still be a thought. But still, they're out there and we are all waiting for God to reveal to us who it is! I'm talking, of course, about the child that Donny and Melissa will adopt one day. It has been a long journey for them and there is still a ways to go but they continue to move forward. They are unable to have children and it is a heartbreak for them. However, God has been preparing their hearts for years and steering them towards adoption. They used to think they would try to do a private adoption. Who knows? That may yet be in their future. But for now, they are leaning towards adopting through the foster care system. They went through Dave Ramsey's "Financial Peace University" some time ago and they are very dedicated to staying out of debt. Private adoption can be very expensive. But even more than the finances, God has been calling them to "care for orphans" and they are realizing that may mean a less than ideal situation. The child may be a little older, may have issues or challenges, may be a little more difficult. (Of course, biological children can be a pain as well, if you get my drift.☺) They love children and long to have a child of their own and if this is how God is going to provide that child then they are up for it!

As their parent, I admire them and I am so proud of them. I also ache for them. Why must something so natural, so basic, be so hard for some? As a mom, I want to protect my children, even when they're grown. I don't want them to struggle or suffer. But that isn't how the world operates, is it? Pain is everywhere.

I'm a little behind the times because I have just watched the first of the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. I know, it's been out forever. I don't know where I was. Anyway, I liked it quite a lot and am happily waiting for the 2nd one to arrive from Netflix. While I was watching the movie, I thought of Donny and Melissa. Frodo says to Gandalf, "I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened." And haven't I said the same sort of thing? "I wish my marriage hadn't fallen apart." "I wish my mom hadn't died." "I wish Donny and Melissa weren't unable to have children."

Gandalf replies to Frodo, "So do all who live to see such times but that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you." Frodo finds himself on a seemingly impossible quest to return the ring to its birthplace, thereby saving the world from evil. There have been times when I think Donny and Melissa have felt that this "quest" for children is so daunting and overwhelming that it borders on the impossible. But they see God working and moving and that continues to encourage them. Of course, they wish they could have had a birth child. But that wasn't for them to decide. Of course, I wish my marriage had survived. Again, it wasn't for me to decide. God chooses, He filters, He allows. We just have to decide what we will do with the circumstances that come our way.

 “I am God and there is no other…My counsel shall stand and I will accomplish all My purpose” (Isaiah 46:10).

 “God does according to His will in the host of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth and none can stay His hand or say to Him, ‘What doest Thou?’” (Daniel 4:35).

 “But He is unchangeable and who can turn Him? What He desires, that He does. For He will complete what He appoints for me” (Job 23:13, 14). 


For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor; no good thing does He withhold from those whose walk is blameless.  Psalm 84:11

Marriage & My Week

It's been a bit of an interesting week. Partly, I think I am feeling the effects of, once again, living on my own. I have renters in the house with me but we are simply roommates. This past year I was blessed to have had Donny and Melissa living with me as well as Jen and the kids here a lot while Zac worked in L.A. All that has changed and I no longer come home to grandchildren worshiping me or Melissa laughing with me. And that's O.K. I'm thrilled for the girls and am grateful that their lives are their own. Zac is back in town and Donny and Melissa have bought their own home and that is as it should be. I am just recognizing that it will be an adjustment for me.

In addition to those adjustments, I've dealt this week with tough class subjects. On Tuesday nights, I am in a Women's Bible Study group and we are currently studying Proverbs. The subject matter this week is marriage. Can I skip that part? Then I went to my Biblical Counseling class last night and the subject matter was...marriage. It was a double whammy. I had some trouble sitting through the class last night. As I listened to the instructor talk about family dynamics and the needs of a husband and wife, I couldn't help but feel a failure. I have struggled with this issue ever since Paul left. What was my part in the breakup of our marriage? My sins? My contribution? Then that rolls into thoughts like, "Did I drive him away?" "Was I that bad?"

Now, before you get your panties in a bunch and come after me, hear this...I know these are unhealthy thoughts. I know that no matter what the state of our marriage was (and by the way, I was under the impression that it was pretty good), no matter what I did or didn't do as a wife, Paul had choices to make and he made wrong ones. However, with that said, even though I know my thinking is skewed, it is a battle that is waged periodically and last night was one of those battles.

My friend, who was sitting next to me in class, described my experience this way:  She said, "Debbie, it's like a bomb just suddenly blew up in front of your face. You're standing there looking around. You're all right and your family is intact (minus one), but the dust hasn't settled and you're seeing devastation all around you and you don't know what happened." It is an apt description.

I drove home crying some and praying a lot. Mostly, I was telling God that I just didn't know what to do with the information, the emotions, and didn't know how to even pray about it. I knew that I needed to pour out my heart to Him and let Him take it from there. Thankfully, He understands. I simply need to get whatever words out and then wait. He will take it, interpret it, and get back to me. And has He?

Well, I can honestly say that I woke up this morning feeling peaceful and looking forward to the day (which includes a mammogram so you know He is working on my attitude). Have any of my circumstances changed? Absolutely nothing. But He is the ultimate Counselor and His counsel is perfect. I have no answers for myself or for anyone else. But once again, I am assured that He is in control, He has filtered and allowed my experiences, and all will be used for His glory. I need to continue to commune with Him and lift my eyes towards heaven. My identity is in the Lord, not in a husband. My value is in Christ, not in the things of this world. My home is in heaven, not on Peachy Canyon (although I'm closer to heaven here on my hilltop than most of you ☺). Praise God! I'm going to set those somewhat self-destructive thoughts aside for awhile and give God time to help me process and let Him tell me how and what to think. Meanwhile, I'm going to indulge in some highly advanced therapy - RUMMAGE SALE, HAIR COLORING, mammogram, TRADER JOE'S, & DINNER WITH A FRIEND!! Can you tell which one I'm not excited about?

Old Friends

It seems, that in our lifetime, we are blessed with just a few precious and lasting friendships. At least that's the case for me. I could not produce a dozen good friends but I could come up with four or five, friends that know me well, stand by me, hold me accountable, encourage me, and laugh with me. One of those friends is Donna. I have known her for 40 years. She and her husband, Jay, were best friends with Paul and I. Fortunately, even though Paul is out of the picture, Jay and Donna have maintained their friendship and closeness with me and for that I am so grateful. Years ago, when Paul lost a job due to drug addiction, they waited for us outside our church on the first Sunday after he had gotten fired, and accompanied us inside so that we were surrounded with support. I was terrified that day and so uncomfortable - feeling like everyone must know what had happened. To see their faces as we arrived and then to walk in with them and sit with them on either side of us was such a blessing. I've never forgotten it. Now it is 30 years later and we are still friends, though, since they live in Auburn, we don't get together too often.

My latest grandchild, Arrow, was born October 16th and Donna turned 60 on October 20th. Donna had just had her first grandchild and had returned from visiting little Giannah in Massachusetts the week before her birthday. Since Arrow had arrived safely, I impulsively decided to drive to Auburn and surprise Donna. I figured she would be missing her sweet granddaughter and might also be mourning turning 60 (or is it just me that did that) so I thought she might need some comfort from me. I was also feeling somewhat worn down and thought a weekend away with friends might be just the ticket. I called Jay and he said they had no plans for the weekend so the timing was good. I borrowed my Dad's car because as you know, if you have read previous blogs, my car is less than dependable. And no, I did not take his Miata!

http://mostly-musing.blogspot.com/2011/07/my-car.html
http://mostly-musing.blogspot.com/2012/04/birthday-tribute-to-my-dad.html

I left on a Thursday, right after I got off work. It took me 6 hours to drive to Auburn including the 4 stops I made. I tend to feel that I am required to take a bathroom break every time a decent place is available but really I just needed to get out and stretch. That drive up I-5 is so boring! I was prepared, however. I had taken a C.D. of a Women's Retreat that I had been wanting to listen to. All the way up, I was encouraged as I listened to a study on the book of Joshua. It was my own private mini-retreat. I was a little bit proud of myself for making the trip and for not even being scared at the rest stops. I was nervous going through Sacramento but after that, I began to get so excited. I made it to Auburn at 10:50 p.m., ran into the Bel Air Supermarket for a supply of wine, and then headed to Donna's house. Jay had promised to leave the front door unlocked and since Donna is a night-owl like me, I knew she'd still be up. I pranced in the front door to find Donna "decorating for fall". She had boxes out and fake pumpkins strewn about - so like her. I think I about gave her heart failure as she tried to process what she was seeing. So fun! We stayed up for hours talking and sharing grandchildren stories. There is nothing like spending time with a friend who has known you forever!

I slept late the next morning and it was fabulous!! It was as if being in a different place with different people was allowing me to shed some of the burdens that I tend to carry and enabled me to rest. And Donna, being the godly woman that she is, let me sleep.

He who blesses his friend with a loud voice early in the morning, It will be reckoned a curse to him.  Pro. 27:14

Needless to say, we got sort of a late start but that was O.K. We had no schedule. We went to visit Donna's sweet mom who is now in a rest home. It brought back memories of visiting my mom before she died. Then we took off to shop, one of our favorite pastimes. Leaving the rest home, we had to drive through the quaint little downtown area of Auburn. It's an interesting place...

This is actually a huge, cement statue that is outside of a dental office. Since I work for a dentist, I found this interesting. Donna said that the dentist himself was the artist and there are several other huge figures surrounding his office. I'm just not sure that I would feel comfortable visiting this dentist.

Next we headed "down the hill" a bit. I had brought up some peacock feathers and I wanted Donna to make an arrangement that I could give to Melissa as a housewarming present using my feathers. Melissa loves peacocks but I needed Donna to lend her artistic expertise to the project. We shopped for hours to find just the perfect container. Along the way, we found this place...

Why am I including this picture? I found it so funny and I made Donna drive me closer to get a good picture. Donna and I sort of get a tad crazy when we are together. (Also, there may have been at least one hookah party on my patio but I'm not swearing to that!)

Jay bar-b-cued that night and he is a wonderful cook. Chicken, salmon, asparagus, etc. Also, one of Donna's Auburn friends had dropped off a plate of homemade cream puffs and Donna made me help her eat them. As a good friend, I was happy to sacrifice my diet for her.

The next day, Donna worked hard at getting the peacock arrangement just right. Notice the serious concentration...

She is a perfectionist and does beautiful work! Here is the finished project...

Donna also took me to a Hobby Lobby store! Wow! We don't have one around here and it was so fun. Their fabrics were beautiful and I was forced to buy a little, even though I wasn't sure what I would do with them. I could have spent a fortune but I limited myself to these...

We also discovered an upscale thrift store where we shopped for quite a while. It was there that we had a somewhat disturbing experience. Donna has lost 40 pounds and she looks great! However, she has not replaced her bras and you know what happens when women lose weight. You lose the girls first. We were sharing a dressing room when I noticed that Donna's bra was doing absolutely nothing for her! I left her with strict instructions to replace her bras and I intend to call her and make sure she has obeyed. Just like eating the cream puffs, being an intimate apparel whistle blower is what good friends do for each other. That night was Donna's actual birthday so we were meeting Jay at an Outback Restaurant. I had never been and we had a great time together (although Jay's cooking is superior). I was struck by how fortunate I was that I could still feel comfortable with Jay and Donna even though there should have been four of us instead of three.

By the way, I should mention that Jay has also lost 40 pounds and he looks great as well.

All too soon the weekend was over and I returned to reality. Such sweet memories! And though I went up thinking that I was going to comfort my "old" friend, it was she who ministered to me. I came home rested and refreshed and so grateful for the blessing of friendships. I wanted to do something for Donna to thank her for the awesome weekend so I decided to make her a Christmas stocking to keep at her house for her granddaughter in case she comes to visit at Christmas time. I used fabric that I had bought at Hobby Lobby. Donna loves giraffes so the stocking is a little unconventional but I don't care.

"Good company in a journey makes the way seem the shorter."  Izaak Walton

Arrow Matthias

Another grandchild! I can never get enough. Not-so-little Arrow Matthias was born October 16. I had prayed a lot for him and for my daughter, Jenny. She'd had thyroid issues, a husband working in L.A., premature labor and bed rest. She took most of it in stride and her calmness and acceptance of circumstances beyond her control was amazing. For quite a few months, she and the three older kids stayed with me during the week while Zac was down south working. Her kids go to bed early but it was so fun to come home from a long day at work and be greeted by these little ones who were always excited to see me.

Anyway, as her due date got close, there were some things I began to stress a little bit about. We were all, of course, mainly praying for good health for Arrow and a safe delivery. But from a practical point of view, there was a little anxiety, mostly over the timing of the big event. Jen and Zac live out in Heritage Ranch and there is currently a large road construction program going on. During the day, traffic can be delayed a bit. Jenny delivers at French Hospital in SLO so it is already an almost hour long drive. Kian, her last baby, came fairly quickly and she certainly did not want to be delivering Arrow on the side of the road. Melissa was on call to be in charge of the three older children and as the due date was approaching, her boss informed her that there were a couple of days where she absolutely could not leave work. I was a little more flexible but for several weekends in a row, I was going to be watching my oldest grandchild, Gabriel, because Sarah (his mom) was working some important events. She graciously had a friend lined up for back up but I was hoping not to have to get Gabriel up in the middle of the night and drop him at someone else's house. Another issue was that since Zac had returned to SLO County, he had been working clear down in Arroyo Grande. Hmmm. Could he make it back in time to pick Jen up if she went into labor while he was at work? Just a lot of questions and details and really, no way to plan. We prayed! And prayed! And lots of others prayed!

Could God have timed Arrow's birth more perfectly? I don't think so. Jenny went into labor at 6 a.m. on Tuesday, October 16. Zac had already left for work but was able to get back to her quickly. It was early enough that the road crews weren't working yet. I was able to get hold of my boss and she was very willing to go into the office and cover for me. I had gotten past all of Sarah's events and Melissa was able to take off work that day. I had even gotten to take a shower and blow dry my hair (it's all about me)! Seriously, when you are 60 and single, sometimes you have to consider how you will look at an occasion where you know there will be pictures taken.  :)  Nah, don't worry. That wasn't my main concern. But I was glad that I didn't have to go straight to the hospital from scrubbing Melissa's new house or something like that.

Arrow was born at 9:50 a.m., all 10 pounds of him! I was privileged to be there and then later, was able to take the other three kids home with me. And, as an extra bonus, I "just happened" to be off work the next day so the kids spent the night with me and all the next day until I delivered them back to Jen and Zac at the hospital, just in time for Zac to drive their brood home. It was a wonderful few days and I am blessed with another grandson!

As sweet as that is, what impressed me was God's intimate involvement with every aspect of our lives. Would it have been catastrophic if I'd had to take Gabriel to a back up babysitter? Would it have been the end of the world if Melissa had to stay at work? No, just not what we wanted. Would it have been terrible if Jen and Zac had to detour and deliver at Twin Cities because it was closer? Even then, no. Just not ideal. And would I have been crushed to attend my grandson's birth with flat, day old hair? Well...thankfully, God did not require that of me! He proved Himself to be near and not because He answered our prayers the way we thought He should. He went above and beyond and blessed us abundantly! We had even thought that the week before would have been a good time for Arrow to be born. But God knew best. It's hard to describe but He gave us all such a peace about everything. And then, if that wasn't enough, Jen's labor and delivery went just as she had hoped and then some. We have a God who cares passionately for us and consequently, no request is too small to bring before Him. We just have to remember to trust Him with the outcome, whatever it may be. Sometimes, our prayers are answered in a way that we aren't initially happy with. Shame on us! He is God! He will never give us less than His best! When I question circumstances, it is because I have strayed away from the closeness of our Father - not because He has distanced Himself from me. I'm a slow learner but for today, praise God, I'm resting in Him.

Funktified!

Conversation with myself....

"What is my problem? I mope around on the weekends, I don't get my butt to church, I say I'm going on a diet and don't, I complain about stuff. I am feeling like a loser! Can't seem to get over this hump. Can't seem to hear God. What is my problem?'

I been funktified, attacked by the funk brigade, been funked upon, you name it! I am in a funk and once again, I find myself sick of myself. This journey has surprised me, I guess. I don't know what I expected but I didn't realize it would be this hard. It's perplexing to me because I still see God's caring, loving hand clearly and I see many of His blessings. But somehow, I am not truly laying hold of His joy and peace. I am concentrating on circumstances too much and not on the Creator. I have longed to understand all that has happened to me when I need to be longing to understand Him.

Joy is a deeply-rooted confidence that God is in control. 

I read that somewhere awhile back and I need this reminder. God is not held up in traffic! He is just as near to me as He has always been. If I don't "feel" Him near, that's on me, not Him. I need to live in that confidence regardless of how I "feel". Joy, then, becomes a choice - a choice to see things from God's perspective and a choice to trust Him as I embrace the new life He is giving me.

So here is my prayer...

"Dear Lord, 

You know me. You know my struggles and my motives and my desires - far better than I know them myself. I want to please You. I really do! But sometimes I feel like I'm just wandering around in the desert, like the Israelites did. Please change my perspective and make it Yours. Please change my focus and make it You! Allow me to grab hold of your joy and peace because it's mine, provided to me by Your work on the cross. And thank You that You never give up on me, You aren't disgusted by me, You don't mock me, You don't dismiss me. You wait, You love, You provide, You nourish, You delight. Imagine that! You delight in me! Teach me, Lord, to delight in You."

Psalm 118:1

Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good;
For His lovingkindness is everlasting.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6umWkVwpfBk

Letting Go

Today, I put my precious youngest daughter Tammera and her two sweet kids on the plane back to Tucson. They had been visiting for three weeks and while that is a nice, long visit, I hadn't seen them since May of last year. And - who knows when she'll be able to come out again? I am continually amazed at how much we all love and care for her. God grafted her into our family years ago. I didn't really understand the process but now, I can't imagine my life without her. She truly has become one of my own. I don't mean to sound sappy but I don't take this relationship for granted. My other girls were stuck with me from the start. Tammera and I chose each other. Maybe it's much like the way God grafts us into His family. I love Tammera for who she is, not for anything she does. That's how God loves me too. But today, I had to let her go. As painful as that was, she has a life and a husband in Tucson and that's where her place is now. I feel pretty sad tonight but kids growing up, moving away, having their own families, all that is normal. I hate the letting go that is part of that process but I accept it. I'm already eagerly looking forward to the next time we are together and I can hug all of them (By then, she'll have three kids)!

I've been thinking a lot lately about another kind of letting go. I was talking to Melissa the other night and I heard myself say to her, "There isn't one hour of any day that I don't think about your father." That was bothering me and as soon as I heard myself say it I knew I had to do something about it. I pondered this as I went to bed that night. I realized that Paul did consume my thoughts and consequently, I was constantly hurting. I was imprisoned in a way, by a man who was no longer in my life. I wondered if I could ask God to free me from the steady onslaught of memories, regrets, feelings, and thoughts. I was afraid. What if God answered my prayer? What would I think about? What would I have? And was it even right to be weary of the turmoil that thoughts of him brought? I felt convicted that it had been long enough. I may always love Paul and I will never regret my life with him. But it is gone now, not by my choice, but still gone. I very tentatively began to pray and ask the Lord to sort out my thoughts. This is hard for me to describe but it just felt so strange to be asking God to help me stop thinking about my husband! I fell asleep a little uncertain, wondering if I were on the right track, not understanding completely but suspecting that I was headed in the right direction. A few nights later I was at the Biblical Counseling class that I am taking. Afterwards, I was talking to a dear friend and I shared a little of what I had been thinking about. She jumped on it in her passionate, enthusiastic way. She's been where I am so she can get away with that. She very definitely felt that I needed to stop the unending cycle and boldly told me that it was sin! She said that I was putting Paul in the place where God should be. "Like an idol?", I said. Exactly. The Lord should consume my thoughts, not a mere man.

I think that God gave us that conversation that night and that it was confirmation to what I had already began processing. I really appreciated her honesty, her courage, and her genuine concern for me. She prayed with me before we went our separate ways and I haven't stopped thinking about all of this since. I haven't arrived! But I'm on the bus. My desire is to glorify God through my life, whatever that life looks like. It seems that for now, that means letting go of the person that occupied the most major portion of my life. It is an extremely painful letting go, not at all like seeing Tammera off. But for the Lord, for myself, for my girls, it is a step I need to take. With God's strength, it will be done.

Philippians 3:13-14

Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

Daughters

I, obviously, do not know much about raising boys. I was blessed with three biological daughters and God graciously blessed me with a 4th (more about her later) when I was nearly 50. Though I don't claim to be any sort of an expert on raising girls, I at least am familiar with the process. Boys? Not so much. I've lived with a lot of people over the years. When I was still married, we often took in people who seemed to have no where else to go and some of them were boys. I remember Rick. He had dreadlocks (this was long before it was acceptable for a white kid) and he had to be ordered to take a shower. He lived in an apartment down the street from us and his mom had thrown him out. He turned out to be very sweet to my young daughters. Last I heard, he was married, had kids of his own, and had a degree in horticulture or something close to that. I don't imagine he has to be told to shower anymore. Then there was Greg, who thought it was O.K. to have a leak in his waterbed and not do anything about it or even mention it, for weeks. He also boiled an artichoke until all the water was gone from the pan and the artichoke had self-combusted. But I digress....back to girls.

I don't think my house had more than the average amount of drama considering there were three girls living in it. I do remember that the drama tended to occur in the middle of the night. I can't count the number of nights that I sat up with a daughter until one or two in the morning hashing out life's difficulties and crying together. If you have sons, do they sleep? In my experience, men sleep at night no matter what. But my girls waited until I was just about to go to bed. It was then, when the house was completely quiet, that hurts, fears, worries, hopes, and dreams demanded to be let out. And so we would talk. I honestly never cared that I was exhausted the next day. I've done a lot of things wrong as a parent but this I can say - if you need an ear at any time during the night, I'm your gal. And it was a privilege to sit on a bed in the dark and listen. Well, of course, if you know me, you know that I also dispensed a lot of unasked for advice during midnight discussions. I've lost some of my stamina and staying power now that I am 60 but I can still rise to the occasion if necessary. Just because my daughters are all grown doesn't mean that they've stopped having late night crises once in a while.

Tammera, my 4th daughter, joined our family when she about 15 years old. Melissa was a year or so older and it wasn't long before they were acting like they'd been sisters all their lives. They would sit up all night watching T.V. and talking and laughing and eating. But then a few days later they'd annoy each other and not talk for a while. Tammera and I settled into our relationship slowly. I wasn't sure what she wanted from me and I am not the most exuberant, enthusiastic person. I didn't want to crowd her but at the same time, I was all she had in the mother department. It was a delicate dance for a few years. But gradually, biological lines blurred. I hardly remember life without her. She learned to drive, had her first boyfriend, renewed her trust in people, and grew as a Christian all under our roof. I had been content with three daughters but I was so honored that God gave me another. Then came the day when Tammera walked in one night and said to me, "Mom, I enlisted in the Air Force!" And just like that, the separation began and our relationship changed. She was going to see the world but she ended up in Tucson.  ☺ That young girl that came to me years ago, somewhat guarded and defensive and wounded, is now a fabulous young woman with a husband, two children and another on the way. I haven't seen her in over a year. She and her family were here when my mom died but we haven't seen each other since. She is arriving in six hours!! She and my precious grandchildren, Audrey and Asher, are flying in for a 3 week visit. I'm grateful that her husband, Eli, didn't mind. He has to stay in Tucson and work but understanding Tammera's deep desire to come home again, he is graciously going to "bach it" for a while. I cannot wait to see them all. It is always such a joy to me to have all my girls together and all the cousins happily creating chaos. I'm thrilled that three of my daughters are here in Paso but there is always an empty space. That space is going to be filled up for the next three weeks! Yea!!

Trauma in Shapewear

This is serious business, ladies, so pay attention. It also is a bit personal but I figured someone has to talk about it so it might as well be me.  I had, what can only be described as, an extremely traumatic experience the other day. I share it here in the hopes of saving someone else though I am wondering if it was just me or if anyone else has suffered through a similar fiasco.

I was shopping in Kohl's because, as you might guess, I had a coupon. I had wandered around fairly successfully and decided to end in "Intimates". Anybody that knows me well knows that I love P.J.'s. I'd live in them if I could so I am always checking out the sale racks for some new "after work wear". As I was heading for the pajamas, I noticed a display marked  "Shapewear". Hmmm...I've been having issues of late with the dreaded back fat. If I didn't have to wear a bra I'd have a much smoother shape in the back but inevitably, a saggier one in the front. Since going to work or church braless isn't an option for me (any more ☺), I thought I might benefit from a trip through the Shapewear department. I saw some camisoles and the brand name was Flexees. Doesn't that sound easy to wear? I grabbed a couple and headed for the dressing room. If you are interested in seeing just how innocent these creations of the devil look, here it is...



I took my shirt off and began to casually slip the cami over my head. By the way, I won't tell you what size I was trying on but suffice it to say, it was not a Small or a Medium. Now, the fact that I began having trouble moving this item down past my chin should have been a red flag. However, I ignored the warning and gallantly soldiered on. I mean, I am nothing if not persistent. O.K. Got it down to my upper chest and attempted to get an arm through. Again, major red flag! Again, I continued. I finally had both arms through and now, the tricky little item was rolled into a narrow little tube and was threatening to cut off all circulation to the "girls". Eventually, I managed to get it untangled and pulled down over my stomach. I began to suffocate. I could not take a full breath so I had to resort to short, shallow breaths reminiscent of the Lamaze breathing I was taught years ago for childbirth. That sort of breathing was ineffective while I was in labor and it was just as ineffective for surviving encapsulation by "power mesh". I realized that I needed to get this thing off me and reconsider this whole mission.

Easier said than done. I attempted to pull the cami up and managed to get it to just under the boobs, again in a tight little roll. I felt faint stirrings of panic but had no choice but to move forward. With a tremendous amount of tugging, I got it to about the middle of my boobs. I was so thankful that there were no hidden cameras in that dressing room. However, no matter what I tried, I could not get it to move any further. Finally, in desperation, I took my left arm and shoved it down through the roll that was the cami. I got it pushed down to about my elbow. I may not have thought this through very well. My left hand was now positioned over my right hip and my elbow was cocked at a weird angle, almost as if I was trying to take something out of a pocket on my right side with my left hand. I quickly ascertained that my arm was pinned. As in stuck. Tight. I was now feeling more than just stirrings of panic. I twisted and turned and twitched and thrust but all to no avail. Oh my gosh! I was going to have to pull the fire alarm lever and have a paramedic cut me out of the dang thing! Could I possibly be any more humiliated? I made one, last, dramatic upward arm motion and miraculously, I was free!! I gasped for air and praised God that I was no longer in the clutches of the "feminine, flattering" camisole. I think it was alive but it played dead sort of like an opossum. It is still there, in the Kohl's Intimate Department, waiting for it's next victim.

I, meanwhile, have decided to ignore the back fat issue for now.

Agony of the Soul

I recently spent some time with a person who was experiencing what I can only describe as "agony of the soul". He was truly suffering as he ranted against all the people who have ever hurt him and also was suffering as he contemplated his many poor choices and failures. I felt so sorry for him and so inadequate for the task of trying to encourage him and assure him of God's love for him. In spite of the very real pain that he was in he still couldn't seem to grasp that there was any hope for him. It was as if he had made a decision to screw up his life and had also resigned himself to an eternity in hell, believing that there was no other option for a man such as himself. He was more willing to rail against the world's injustices than to even consider a different path. He also couldn't fathom trusting justice to God and yet he was so frustrated with his own inability to extract justice. I realized, as I listened to him, that too often I judge, criticize, nag, or attempt to manipulate a person but I don't really know what is going on inside them. What I witnessed that day was a person who was being eaten alive from the inside out. I asked him if he thought that all the hurts that he held onto and all the injustices he felt had been committed against him were any worse than the hurt that I had suffered at the hands of the man who had sworn to love and cherish me forever. (My girls tell me I always win when I pull out that card!  ☺ ) I realized that though I had been hurt terribly and I still mourn the loss of my husband, I was not in the sad state that this man was. Had I ever been? I'm not sure. Certainly, when Paul first left me, my heartache was much rawer than it is now. I also had to look at my own failures in my marriage. But I always had the Lord right with me and I felt His presence and I never doubted that He would bring me through this and He has. As I ached over my mom's illness and death and even my own fears about inheriting a tendency towards Parkinson's, I was comforted by knowing that she would be forever with the Lord and that eventually, so would I. As I attempted to explain myself to the man crying in front of me, I found that God was ministering to me while I thought I was ministering to him. By expressing my thoughts and beliefs out loud to someone else, they were cemented in my mind. I was able to say, "Yes! I am His, praise God!" And I wouldn't trade that for anything. The pain we go through on this earth is nothing compared to the joy that will be ours in heaven. I was reminded of the words to the song, "Eagle's Wings". To be hidden in His love brings me to my knees and that is exactly where I need to be. Though it was difficult to watch, I was grateful for the glimpse into the human soul that was living (or trying to live) without the Lord. The pain of living without Him eclipses any earthly loss. I left that day, far more thankful for the peace that is mine and far more determined to pray for those still suffering and searching.


"Here I am waiting, abide in me I pray.
Here I am longing for You.
Hide me in Your love, bring me to my knees.
May I know Jesus more and more.

Come live in me, all my life take over.
Come breathe in me. I will rise on eagle's wings."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YNiJZIs_tgk

Reflections on a Garage Sale

So, my daughter, Sarah, decided that she wanted to do a garage sale. She was ready to get rid of some stuff and she lives right downtown so it is a great location. But, of course, since most women do not want to do anything alone, she invited me to join her. Translated, that means that I had to haul two trunk loads of crap to her house, work Friday night until 10 p.m. helping her organize stuff and then try to get up Saturday morning (my day off!) and get out and about by 8 or so.

I always have a thrift store pile going but I'd much rather go to a thrift to buy more stuff than sit on Sarah's front porch for 4 hours hocking our wares. But you know, I love my kids, so sometimes I gotta do stuff that isn't terribly exciting. (I'm polishing my halo right about now.)

I decided that I needed a little something special to get me going that morning so I offered to make a McDonald's run for me, Sarah, and my grandson, Gabriel. I hadn't had a sausage and egg biscuit in years and it sounded fabulous. I set my alarm for 6:30 a.m. and hit the snooze button about 9 times, finally coming to with a shock at about 7:30. I threw myself out of bed, tossed on some shorts, spit on my hair, and ran out the door. I didn't even brush my teeth! I was shocked to see that the McDonald's was absolutely packed at 8:15 in the morning. I mean, you would have thought it was a famous gourmet restaurant! It was standing room only. Good thing I was "to go". I ordered the breakfast platter for Gabriel. I figured it was an assortment so he was bound to be happy with at least some of it. After I had ordered, I noticed this large number posted by the picture of the "platter". It was "1090". I looked again, squinted a little, and realized that next to the number 1090, in small letters, was the word "calories". Holy Smokes!! One thousand ninety calories just in the breakfast? Looked again - my biscuit breakfast had 510 calories. Plus, in a fit of abandon, I had also ordered hash browns. Add another 150 calories. Whatever. It was 8:15 on a Saturday morning, I looked like a slob, and I was just too tired to care. And the day had just begun!

I arrived at Sarah's with our breakfasts, which now contained enough calories to feed a small village for several days. Sarah had a wonderful attitude. She had been up much earlier than me and she and Gabriel had already neatly arranged everything onto her front lawn. It was a pitiful display. We really had mostly clothes which aren't the biggest draw at a garage sale. We would watch some people slow down and do the "drive by" and then keep on going. Now, mind you, this was crap that just the other night I wanted to dump at the AmVet trailer. Now, I was taking it personally that no one wanted to sort through my crap and pay me what I thought it was worth! Eventually, there were a few rushes and sales picked up. I was happy to at least make back the cost of my breakfast and Sarah did quite a bit better than me. During lulls, we chatted and looked through each other's stuff. I ended up loading a fair amount back into my car. For example, Sarah had seven champagne flutes that never sold. You know I have quite an active social life so I figured I could always use more champagne flutes. Score! I had donated a pair of earrings to the sale because Sarah had told me I should never wear them again. Come to find out, they never made it out to the lawn. She kept them! Hmmm. Oh well. They will look better on her.

Lots of very nice people stopped by. One group of four women arrived in an Escalade. They were having too much fun! One of Sarah's items was a small crystal ice bucket. One of these ladies was looking at it and commenting on how she liked it but that it wouldn't hold much ice. Her friend told her she should go ahead and get it. The woman replied, "It's so small, I would just have to fill it with ice and pour my booze right into it and drink out of it." We decided we liked her style. One man came by and wanted to know if we had any guns for sale. Um, is that legal we wondered? The 80 year old neighbor lady from down the street stopped by and we learned a lot about her history of flea marketing as a business, when her husband had died, where each of her sisters lived, etc. You get the idea. The nice thing was, we took the time to listen to her. In fact, Sarah was great about asking her questions and encouraging her to talk. We had no where else to be and our Craig's List ad said the sale went until noon so technically, we were working and were legally bound to sit on the porch and chat with strangers until then.

Sarah was trying to foster entrepreneurship in Gabriel. He had helped her drag everything outside so that had earned him two 12-packs of soda. He was supposed to try to sell them for a buck each and he would get to keep his profits. Several of Sarah's friends very sweetly stopped in just to buy soda from Gabriel. He got off to a bit of a rough start. His first customer was a nice young woman who had recently gotten married. Sarah had been her wedding coordinator. It was a little early for Gabriel so he needed a bit of prodding to semi-politely ask her whether she wanted Coke or Sprite but as the morning wore on, he warmed to the task. Pretty soon, he was sitting out there hollering at the browsers and actually selling more than me! The highlight of his day was when Sarah's friend, Robert, drove up. He had come just to buy soda and surprised Gabriel buy buying all ten of the remaining Sprites. Suddenly, Gabriel was very protective of his stash of money and quite excited about his earnings. I actually managed to sell my king sized comforter. It was in great shape. I just can't fit it in my washing machine. I hope the people who bought it don't mind the cat barf that precipitated the sale.

Finally, noon arrived and we began to pack up. We had one other family group stop and we let them take whatever they wanted. It saved us the trouble. Then we loaded up what was left and off we went to the AmVet trailer. I was home by 1:30 p.m. and was worn out. Would I do it again? Well, I figured that between the prep time before the sale and the time spent the day of the sale, I made about $4 an hour. Frankly, I'd rather sleep in. But...there were a few things that made the day remarkable...

I'm blessed to have daughters who don't seem to mind my company so spending a morning with Sarah was a blessing.

I enjoyed seeing the camaraderie of women as they enjoyed a morning together and was reminded of my own good friends and what they mean to me.


I was humbled as I watched families gather up clothes and be grateful for them.

I was thankful that I did, eventually, make it to the AmVet trailer.

And lastly, I must not eat breakfast at McDonald's!

A Hard One

Been thinking some hard thoughts lately. Or maybe, more accurately, I should say that I have been avoiding thinking them. They touch just at the edge of my conscious mind before I push them away. I don't want to let them in. I think it's because I have no idea where they will end up. Too many thoughts rattling around in my head and I can't sort them all out. But it's two in the morning and, thanks to the prednisone I am currently on, I am still awake. I figured I might as well do a little exploration. Not sure if it's wise to share so personally but somehow, this writing is therapeutic for me and maybe my crazy thoughts are in someone else's head too.

It has occurred to me that I don't cry much at all any more over my failed marriage. I don't think it's that I'm over it. I'm wondering if I just needed to take a break from the effort of trying to understand what has happened. Will I ever make sense of an event that was so wrong? I doubt it. But I can't seem to let it go either. Do I still love him, miss him? I'm sure that's part of it, in spite of all that has happened. But there is much more and at the root of it is my pride. His total rejection and abandonment of me has thrown me. Am I so unworthy? So unlovable? I know I was far from perfect but when I'm rational, I also know that it probably wasn't much about me. His hurts, insecurities, desires, and weaknesses eventually got the upper hand. My weaknesses and failings contributed to the mix. And yet, I missed it for so long. He seems to me to be an illusion, someone I thought I knew but obviously did not. Again, my pride takes a beating. I mean, after all, shouldn't I have seen it coming? Couldn't I have done something to help both of us? As I look back on my life it seems robbed of all validation, like none of it was what it seemed. There must have been very real times, wonderful times, but now I question it all.

There are moments when I want to talk to him so badly and many days when I honestly wonder how he is and, I'm a little embarrassed to say, some times when I worry about him. I can't even keep track of how many times I wonder if he ever misses me, thinks about me, imagines how I am. I suspect he figures I'm fine, figures I never really needed him, figures he has left me in the capable care and comfort of a father, daughters, grandchildren, friends. And to a large degree, that is true. I am fine. I really am! But that doesn't mean I don't hurt.

We can never, on this earth, escape the pain that accompanies living on a planet corrupted by sin. As a Christian, I have the Lord as my resource and strength and certainly, it is only because of His graciousness to me that I can say, "I'm fine." But the hard part is accepting that God does not remove me from the pain. Nor does He remove the pain from me. I am a doer, a follower of lists, an administrator. Can't it just be that I need to pray more? Do more Bible Study? Minister to others more? Then life wouldn't hurt so much? Certainly, I would benefit from all those things. But no matter, my joy will not be complete until I am lifted from this world and safely in the arms of my Father. So that is what my struggle boils down to - accepting the pain while rejoicing in the blood of Jesus that saved me and the Glory of God that awaits me.

Please don't think that this is a depressing state I'm in. In fact, I just might be about ready to burst out the other side of "down in the dumps". Often, when I let myself think too hard, I can relate to the philosophy that  says, "life sucks and then you die!" But if I continued in that frame of mind I would miss all that God has for me here and now. When I bang on heaven's door and complain to God and beg Him to ease my pain right now, I deprive myself of what He can offer me in the meantime. I owe my life to Him and the work that was accomplished on the cross and my future lies in the hope I have in His eternal promises. It all sounds so lofty but grabbing hold of this truth is what I want to make real in my life. My pain pales in comparison to most people's lives and I feel insignificant even talking about it. But, it's where I'm at and it's my pain so I have to deal with it. Comparing myself to someone else will only make me feel guilty (I'm a master at that) and won't help any in the long run.

My struggle is not really because of a failed marriage. That just happens to be a symptom in my life of the sin that permeates our world. I want the Lord to change me, from the inside out, so that my perspective is completely different. I want to live like I've already got one foot off this earth and reaching towards heaven, holding out a hand to reach for His, able to cry because it hurts but also to sing because I know what awaits me.

What Are You Telling Me, Lord?

I have been home sick for a week now and I am not a good patient. Watching hours of mindless T.V., cruising Pinterest and Facebook, or watching old movies can only occupy me for so long. I've been going out of my mind with boredom. Last night, I was so desperate that I found myself watching "The World's Worst Tattoos". That was a low moment. Anyway, I have also been reading whenever I felt like it but I have been reading my standard trashy murder mystery/detective stories. I decided, yesterday, that I might benefit from reading something a little more challenging and uplifting. A friend recommended that I read, "Same Kind of Different As Me". I had actually bought the book a long time ago but had never read it. Seemed like a perfect idea so I jumped right in and started the book. It was immediately captivating and I was enjoying it immensely. It's the story of a rich white guy and a homeless black man who are brought together by the white guy's wife (who is an amazing woman). Things were going along great, I was into the book, it was taking my mind off my confinement, and I was learning some stuff too. All good, right? Well, then I came to the part in the book where the white guy had an affair with a 19 year old woman. He confessed, under duress, and his wife called the girl, told her she forgave her and didn't blame her, and then told her husband that she forgave him and she'd commit to saving the marriage. I set the book aside.

Still determined to not resort to violence in my literary endeavors, I switched to Joyce Langdorf's, "Mourning Song". This is a book about grief. Now you might think this an odd choice for me to turn to after abandoning the previous book. But I had been wanting to read it again because I was curious about exactly where I might be in the process of grieving for my marriage. Two things struck me as I skimmed through the book. The first thing was that Joyce Langdorf was so dedicated to her mother during the process of her death. I immediately began to have doubts and regrets about how I had handled things during my mom's protracted illness and dying. Secondly, regarding my marriage (actually, the lack of a marriage), I had thought I had reached the "acceptance" stage but as I read, it began to look more like I was in the stage that usually preceded acceptance and that was labeled..."depression". I set the book aside.

Now, I could spend a lot of time explaining the differences in how my husband responded to his infidelity, what I experienced and felt during my mom's dying, etc. And now would be a good time for some profound insight that God gave me. In fact, after setting the second book aside, I literally turned to God and said, "Lord! What? What are You telling me?" The truth of the matter is that I got nothing! I went back to the first book today and finished it. It is a really good book and I would recommend it. I'm still not sure what God is saying to me. I do have a few tentative thoughts though.

I'm very up and down. Sometimes I seem really tuned into God and other times I don't seem to hear Him at all. How much I hear Him, or, better yet, how well I listen to Him, is affected by how regularly I talk to Him, read His Word, etc. Duh...I mean that should be a given and at 60 years of age, I know that. However, I'm still irregular in my communication with Him. Secondly, I may not know what He is trying to tell me today, but I will. And I'm confident of that. I didn't used to feel that way but I know He'll never leave me completely in the dark. My life here on earth seems to be on a "need to know" basis and I need to be O.K. with that. In fact, I actually feel almost excited. I feel like I'm on the cusp of discovering something - maybe just a small little truth - but a truth nonetheless, that will move me forward a bit. I've been in a "dry" spot. I thought I was accepting my new "single" status because I wasn't crying anymore about you-know-who but honestly, I think I've just been temporarily shut down. Maybe that's why I zeroed in on "depression" in the second book. Joyce Langdorf talks about the "apathy of grief". I think that's a good description of what I've been feeling. Apathy. I have loved and cared deeply and now I'm tired. But as I'm pondering all this, I think, "that's o.k.". It's all a process and I'm getting there. I'm honestly not discouraged. I have no idea what my future holds and I totally know that I need to get much less "irregular" about spending time with God. I say that I know He hasn't abandoned me. I say that I know He's in charge. I say that I trust Him. I say that I'm not angry with Him. I need to put my money where my mouth is. And maybe that's my message for today.

While I think about that, I'm going back to my murder mystery...

I Sing Because I'm Free

I drove over to Cambria today for a massage. What a treat! I found Rhoda here,
http://cambriadayspa.com/massage/ ,
shortly after my mom had died. I had a few days off and I spent them at a little motel on Moonstone Beach and took a chance and booked a massage with her after finding her online. She is fabulous! At the time, I was driving over to Cambria about once a month or so to see a counselor. I began to make a day of it. I would go to my counseling appointment, get a massage, and then sit at the beach and ponder life. Talk about a day of therapy! Anyway, this blog isn't really about a massage. But though I no longer go over to the coast for counseling (which, by the way, was with an awesome professional who now believes I'm healthy ☺ ), I have managed to occasionally continue the massage routine. It takes me about 45 minutes from my house to drive over and I tend to listen to praise music and pray most of the way. It has become a time for me to focus on the Lord in ways that I seem to struggle with when I'm at home. I wasn't feeling the greatest today because I had stayed up until 3:00 a.m. helping Melissa with a project and I'm a bit too old for that sort of thing. Nevertheless, I was looking forward to the afternoon.

As I drove and prayed, I was specifically asking the Lord for His joy. I have been realizing that if I truly grasped His enormous sacrifice and the gift of His grace I would be loudly rejoicing and singing His praises, no matter what the circumstances of life. He knows all the hurts of the past few years so today I didn't bore Him with my list of offenses. Instead, I looked more inward, at the sin that is so entrenched in my own heart. He gently revealed to me that even when I am praying, my motives are often so completely self-centered and sometimes an attempt at manipulation. (As if I could manipulate the Creator!) As I confessed sin to Him, I began to try to imagine what it might feel like to be completely rid of the burden of sin. Right about that time, the song "His Eye Is On The Sparrow" began to play.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mOm2mMusqUw

I was so struck by the words, especially as I heard,
"So I sing because I'm happy. And I sing because I'm free!"

I had asked God to speak to me on the drive over and wouldn't you know it! He did. I am free from the burden of sin. God has forgiven me and Christ paid my ransom. I can beat myself up about my sin all the time but it won't change the fact that God chose me and I am His! And someday, I won't sin anymore. That will be so awesome. Unimaginable, really. I spent the rest of the drive just reflecting on God's goodness to me and singing along to my C.D. Also, I figure in heaven, I'll be able to carry a tune!

God wasn't done talking to me, though. I might be weird, but when I'm lying on the massage table, I think some pretty deep thoughts and I also do some praying. It takes me probably half an hour to actually relax and turn my mind off. Anyway, as I mentioned, I wasn't feeling too great. I was praying that God would enable me to relax enough to enjoy what I had paid for and I found myself thinking about our physical bodies. Let's face it - when you are naked, face down on a table, and your clothes are out of reach, there is a lot to think about. Seriously, though, I began to think about Jesus and his physical body. I seem to avoid remembering that while He was on earth, He had physical and emotional constraints just like me. He hurt and felt sorrow, I knew that. But then I found myself wondering if He felt embarrassment or humiliation. Did He cringe inside as He was led to His crucifixtion? Was He ashamed of His nakedness when He was hung on the cross? On a less significant scale, did He ever wonder when the next bush was going to appear because He had to go to the bathroom? I don't mean to sound irreverent. Not at all! I just don't slow down enough to contemplate some of these mysteries. For those moments, as I considered these things, Christ assured me, in a new way, that He definitely knows my struggles - my physical limitations (as you know, I have entered my 60's and I am going kicking and screaming) and He also understands all my emotional dilemmas. I am not alone! Finally, I relaxed, with a smile on my face, as I rested in the knowledge that God had been waiting for me. I just needed to listen. I returned home, rejuvenated in body and spirit. And I sang, because I'm free!!

Matthew 11:28-30

New International Version (NIV)

²⁸ “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. ²⁹ Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰ For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”

My Self-Destructive Self

Almost every morning I wake up with a heaviness, a judgement of myself, and that judgement says, "Debbie, you failed again." It didn't used to be like this. I've never been a morning person and probably never will be. You people who jump out of bed, ready to meet the day the second your eyes open, you are, well, foreign to me. I start slow and on the days I don't work, I start late. But this feeling that I am waking up with has nothing to do with my disdain for mornings and everything to do with how I'm feeling about myself.

This is not about losing sight of who I am in Christ. I know He holds my life in His hands. I know He has plans for me. I know He loves me just the way I am. I know He has a purpose for my life. Those are important truths and I cling to them. But the simple fact is that, since Paul left, I have developed, enjoyed, and perfected some pretty bad habits. And while I'd like to blame this trend on Paul, I cannot. (Well, maybe just a little bit!) I'm responsible and no one else. Damn! In and of themselves, these bad habits might not be considered "self-destructive". But I am classifying them as such because I have indulged this lack of discipline long enough. I am tired of waking up disappointed in myself. For the sake of transparency, here's my list of things I do that make me dislike myself...

I stay up way too late.
I eat way too much (especially later in the evening).
I eat in bed. 
I waste far too much time on the computer.
I like to drink wine with every dinner.

I avoid God.

This list is not exhaustive but it's a good start. I think if I could get a handle on any of this stuff, my outlook on life would be better. Let me examine these a little. I've always been a night owl so the staying up late business has been a struggle under the best of circumstances. At 60, however, I'm just too old for that kind of thing. I'm exhausted every morning as I drag myself off to work. No fun! Eating and drinking? I don't drink too much at a time. It's not that at all. But wine every night? That's just empty calories. What happened to just having water with dinner? Speaking of dinner, what happened to it? Most nights I grab whatever assortment of things I find that require absolutely no preparation, cart them off to my bedroom, and sit in bed with my T.V. and computer.  My mattress has a well defined butt print in it from me sitting there so much. I then browse Pinterest and Facebook for hours, usually eating the whole time.

I know I've left one item out so far. I'll get to that in a minute. As I look at the paragraph above I am thinking, "No sweat! This is an easy fix. Just come home from work, fix an actual dinner that contains a vegetable, stop eating after dinner, do something constructive in the evening, relax for a short time and go to bed by 11:00." Done! The problem is that my mind and body have to be retrained. I've been doing this for too long. I come home with good intentions that are immediately derailed by bad habits that demand attention. And because I have allowed my circumstances to rob me of daily joy, I give in to those bad habits because I just don't care. I say I don't care but the fact that I wake up in the morning kicking myself says otherwise. And, I've realized that overindulgence sucks the enjoyment out of simple pleasures. A good meal and a nice glass of wine? Nothing special anymore. When you eat and drink constantly, it loses appeal and is not satisfying. Staying up late? No fun there, nothing to look forward to. Not when you do it all the time. Zoning out on the computer? No reward anymore. It's run-of-the-mill, boring. Doing whatever I liked, whenever I wanted, didn't free me. It has enslaved me. I am sick of it.

Now...the bigger problem...avoiding God. There are times when I feel like He and I are on the same page. I turn to Him instantly, pray a lot, ponder and think about Him. But much too often, I avoid Him. I hit a wall where I am experiencing something that is painful. (Painful stuff has been a bit frequent these last few years.) But instead of turning that pain over to Him, I avoid it completely. I don't pray about it. I don't talk to Him, I don't tell Him about it. Of course, He knows already and I know that. But I deprive myself of the inexpressible relief of intentionally sharing it with Him. I keep the burden to myself. Sometimes, I deny the pain so successfully that I forget about it until all of a sudden, without warning, anger rears its ugly head at the most surprising times. It's a mystery to me why I do this over and over again. It's almost as if I am afraid that life will hurt more if I verbalize it to God. Or maybe I'm afraid that He'll ask me to give it to Him and somehow I think that trivializes what I'm going through. Whatever my reasons, I need to get over it. He wants to carry my burdens. He hurts with me, for me, because of me. Unbelievable!!

"Oh, what peace we often forfeit, oh, what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NRb5blYUQpc

I have no answers for myself at this point. This is not a New Year's Resolutions sort of thing. But for me, just writing something down helps to clarify my thoughts and allows God to give me some direction. I've got to break this crazy cycle. Maybe today.