Faith - Melanie's blog

Someone Is Waiting for Me

I awaken with my head on a pillow I think is mine. The bed is made underneath me as if I have taken a nap. My hands sweep over the top of the comforter as I support myself into a seated position. My muscles are relaxed, and my face holds no tension.

My eyes wander over at the loft’s edge where the adjacent windows frame white in the adjoining room, and I hear purposeful, small sounds just below me.

Someone is waiting for me. Was I only napping, or have I been sleeping here for a while?

I ascertain someone has been waiting for me. Someone has been waiting for me, and I am not jolted to hurry down because this person never intended to leave. This person understood the importance of my rest. I grin hearing the small sounds of someone who has a purpose outside of me and the patience to wait.

My hand sleeves the banister as I descend the stairwell. Each foot fall is met with need of comfort, protection, security, and warmth, much like a young girl would expect in a home of kind, loving parents.

As I reach the main level, I turn the corner toward the tinkerings, expecting you to be there.

At this moment, we do not touch, but it’s not because there is a lack of affection. Our affection goes beyond that. It is understood, believed, and embraced in each shared smile, glance, and gesture of care to this home, even in the mundane tasks. It is felt in every sound and pause.

You wait for me to come on my own time, when I am ready, and I love you for this because you trust and carry peace within yourself, the kind that is contagious. It’s an aura that fills this house. There is no waiting for the next thing as the world competes in everything. It is just a neutral state of being. Not that everything is perfect in our world but nothing outside of us is running us or our lives. We understand the importance of others in our life and their place in it, but nothing and no one is getting between us. There is no fear of this in the future either. It’s the actualization of total rest, and there is no fear of what’s to come because we realize it’s not momentary rest. It’s inner rest, undisturbed and untainted by any forces known and unknown. It’s the absolute state of knowing and feeling that everything is exactly as it is and will be. There is nothing in mind, spirit, or soul that muddles it.

This peace transcends all understanding. There is no overthinking–overexplaining– because much is understood between us without the use of words. Though our conversations may deal more in the day to day facts of life, there is a lot of understood emotion by observation, much like holding a kaleidoscope for eye’s catch of all colors, shades, and facets of slight changes in tone and grimaces on one’s face, and even in one’s stillness. We know each other as if we have known each other, our souls holding memory.

I wonder if it has always been like this with you. Regardless of having a definite answer, it doesn’t matter. If in your gentleness, even your kindness, I have attacked you with my words or rejected your acts of love toward me, you have not held it against me. You understand it was only fear, not hate, that held me back. And I hold space in the same way for you. We hold no record of wrongs against each other. The world has been harsh to both of us, and we both understand this about the other. Our nurturing love breathes life into our places where there have been little deaths: You’ll know the weight of my deferred dreams, and I’ll know how to find you when you want to hide from the world. This is love, and we’ll never need convincing nor the shoeing away of doubts because we’ll never question if we deserve it or are worthy of it.

One man’s “I just wanted to make you happy” is that man’s own folly! Maybe in my 20’s that might have been a viable assumption. No, no sir! I was never looking for someone to make me happy. After all these years, I know how to do that on my own. I know what God has for me cannot be done alone. To be with someone means I have to find something greater in and of myself, something more useful to this world: Solace. With that, I am healed, and in my healing, I can heal the world.

To my future love:

I need a slow yet ever-burning, passionate love that develops with time and space and presence. If it is forced or too fast, I won’t believe it is genuine. Even though all that would be nice, this will be my reality. When you find me, I may not be all that you envisioned. Be patient with me and listen to the words I say because I don’t speak idle words when it comes to love. Give me time– give us reasonable time– until we become one. It will be worth the wait. I will be your love of a lifetime, I promise; I know this because I know what I feel in my heart. I may not be able to articulate my emotions fully in the moments as they come, but you will know it more readily in my touch, my kiss, my embrace, my vulnerability, and even in my anger lest I lose you. I will know you are the one when you consider my wishes and warnings– when you believe in me.

Thank you ahead of time for loving me well, just like Him.

With deep appreciation and love,

Melanie

Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash

December 10, 2023

Navigating the Landmines of Love

First written in winter of 2021– I needed to reread this.

Have you ever wondered if you missed out on a lost love? Have you ever wondered if the circumstances or timing had been different, your life would look much better than you currently perceive it?

I talked with a few close female friends, and every single one of them had a moment in their life where they wondered the same thing when remembering a lost love from long ago.

Matters of the heart, especially when dealing with love, is such a complex thing. It isn’t something that can be shooed away with a simple thought nor can it be pacified with a pat answer from a friend. The heart goes on its detours, and it is hard to wrangle it back on track.

Our journey is full of twists and turns, some of which we don’t see coming. How did I end up here at the beginning of this year with a weighty heart and these questions on my mind?

It all started with looking for a photo.

Our school counselors had sent out an email to teachers over Thanksgiving break. We were instructed to find a picture with Santa, preferably one when we were a baby or small child; we would also provide a more current picture with Santa if we had one. To get our students into the Christmas spirit, they would attempt to match our pictures on the bulletin board just outside the counselors’ offices.

Finding my baby picture with Santa was easy. I had just come across this photo over the summer as I was cleaning out my garage. My last photo with Santa was with a guy I dated years ago. We were in Brookwood Mall. He personally knew the Santa character and thought it would be fun. I knew I had kept the Polaroid; however, it wasn’t in my photo albums. I didn’t think much else of it. I thought I’d just submit the one photo and be done with it.

Around Christmas time, before falling asleep one night, I thought of another photo that was taken by that same guy from years ago. It was a White Christmas in Alabama that year. We have seen very few of those, so it was special. We opened gifts from each other near my fireplace. It was just the two of us—our own special Christmas. Snowflakes were falling, and like a kid, I wanted to run and play in it. I pulled on my snow boots, slipped into my jacket, and draped a scarf around my neck. He followed me outside and observed, taking pictures of me, which he always did whenever he had the chance. He had a good eye with the camera. That one picture of me playing in the snow was a favorite of mine. He had captured my youthful, playful side that day. He was watching me, and I was happy.

Within minutes of recalling that memory, I remembered where the Santa photo of him and me might be. I am a keeper of meaningful cards and writing from family, friends, students, and the few I have dated where there was a meaningful connection. With at least 25 years’ worth of these treasures in one place—about four piles high in a cabinet drawer— I knew finding this one picture wouldn’t be easy.

As I surveyed the piles of memorabilia, my eyes caught a glittered booklet—something he had made for me. As I pulled it out of the middle of one of the large piles, it grabbed everything in that one place that was from him: his emails I had printed, cards he had given me, and one of his guitar picks– it all fell at my feet. The Santa photo was in that same pile. It was almost like I was meant to find it. It was like a time capsule for me, buried by years and found like treasure.

Something in me knew this was a dangerous endeavor, to reread old love letters from him. As I glanced through them in the attempt to avoid resurrecting old feelings, my eyes caught an email about a story he wrote to me in October 2010. For some reason, I decided I would read that one email.

The story was about Orpheus and Eurydice, but he had intentionally written it as if we were the two characters. Reading it was like entering a time machine. It also triggered me, for so much of what he said was a prediction of our future 10 years later. Some of the things he said were a bit exaggerated (after all, it was written as a fictional story); however, there were more truths inside of the story about him and me (gone our separate ways) than I’d have liked to have accepted.

His email read more like a prophecy than a made-up story– his last line being that 10 years would pass and I would look for him, only to find his ghost.

I was almost mad at him. He didn’t finish the story and tell me what to do once I entered these haunted memories– the present void of love.

I realized I had to add to the story for myself, moving forward.

I’ve heard it said that a small part of ourselves is attached to the familiar no matter how painful or inefficient it is. We tend to over-romanticize what really is and/or was. We remember the good memories; we forget the bad. Just like when someone dies. At their funeral, we are not stating their mistakes and mishaps of what they did to or in our life. We celebrate the good parts. God has a surprising nature attuned within us of goodness, grace, forgiveness, and unconditional love: Somehow our brains, hearts with its heartaches, and emotions are hard-wired to those memories of people when they were good and at their best. My good friend Jamie (an original expression of Keats?) puts it best: “Imagined melodies are sweetest, and the men we love are mostly imaginary.” I suppose we make things better in memory where they might not have been as great if we were to return to the actual state of when things unfolded in the present. At least that’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself of.

Now 10 years later when he has resurrected in my thoughts and heart, he would tell me to move on– no regrets– and yet I cannot help but feel an agonizing ache inside that things will never be the same for me. I’ve walked through a rite of passage where I am forever changed. For he was the tool God used to show me what love is and what it isn’t and to appreciate who I am so deeply within my very soul. He’s the one who has pushed me to unbury life’s losses and triumphs, getting to the core of who I am and what I want to be in a relationship.

Like his name, he would live up to it: supplanter and deceiver. You see, I was supposed to be the teacher, but he was the teacher for me. I’d have to say if he learned anything from me at all, I got the better end of the deal. I was the luckier one. I recently reached out to the person that brought us together, which I believe was divinely guided. She explained why, and I expressed the impact the pairing had made. I conveyed my gratitude to her because meeting him changed my life forever.

A time capsule tucked away and set aside until a divine time set by God… as a teacher. I pondered over the findings in the pile. Why now, God? It’s too painful.

That was the point.

Navigating and processing…not rushing from the pain but accepting it, feeling it…

This is important. Don’t move on too quickly from here, or you will miss the lesson.

Be willing to look at the negative feelings of the self without judgment. The triggers too. Sometimes these are just arrows pointing us to unhealed parts of ourselves, steering us in the direction of becoming a better, whole version of ourselves. May we all attain a place where we live more free, surrendered to the aches and pains of life with the capacity to see the hidden gifts within the various life traumas we have been through. Too many times, we see trials as bad and happy times as good when many times, it is through our trials where we learn who we are and who we must become in order to move from surviving to thriving, even when life makes no sense at all.

This life was never intended to rummage through the ghosts of our pasts to see what we can call forth from the grave of the dead. And it’s not the avoidance of old ghosts either. We make the best decisions we can at the time we make them. What is back there for me or you? What’s ahead is where the focus must remain.

Sometimes in sensitive situations, I force hard truths into black and white. Most of the time, this comes from the ego or a wounded place, so I have decided that I will write from a place of intuition, a God-given part of me I have too long neglected and not trusted– a God-given supernatural power that breaks down illusions, mind’s lies, and fabricated insecurities we find refuge in. We want answers. We want a straight “yes” or “no”, and though I believe our lives turn and deal in absolutes of what once was, is now, and will be– for those things, we live in a black and white world; however, it’s the emotions and feelings that deal in ambiguity where the mind overworks to make sense of things and can suffocate the life out of our highest being.

For me, I remember what matters most: I could not hide from him nor could he with me. Even if we tried to, it wasn’t a state we remained in for long. We pulled toward each other in the greatest of ways where this wholly surrender brought freedom of thoughts, even the ones scariest to admit to the other and to ourselves. The truths of our hearts and in our hearts were laid bare before each other and God, but mainly for ourselves.

I could not hide from my beloved, and he could not hide from me. What we had was raw and lovely. I will reflect on what good his memory brings to my life. We are separate yet connected forever, and that is something beautiful I will cherish for the rest of my life. He is a part of my story, and though bittersweet in the end, it’s the tender, messy part that feels like chaos in my emotions yet makes more sense than most things in life. It’s not a black and white story; it was a relationship filled with ambiguity, and I suppose it is the one that will leave a mark on my life like no other. We were supposed to meet. We were meant to meet– this, I believe, by God’s design.

Stars break apart, yet cannot. There is a pull. Maybe he is my North Star amidst the map of vast galaxies where all others will pale in comparison– my North Star where I will find my way to the one who fits me best. Yet scariest of all, my high standards have only become higher, for I cannot and will not settle for less than what I believe was the most beautiful of loves I have known in this lifetime when I could be most myself.

Photo by Apricitasart on Instragram

November 11, 2022

You Can Run But You Can’t Hide

“God’s gifts and God’s call are under full warranty—never canceled, never rescinded.” Romans 11:29, MSG

A wind of change had rolled into my life. I saw it shortly after my two foster girls left my home that May. While I had them, stress had taken over my physical body as I battled with a long-term sinus and ear infection with a cough that eventually turned into asthma. My main goal after they left was to get well.

As life quieted down, God’s spirit communicated the word “rest” to me. That word created an adverse effect within me. I began to wrestle with God over the word. I didn’t exactly understand what it could mean in my life. At the time, I knew I grappled with some circumstances that were out of my control, and I needed to entrust them into His hands fully. I didn’t inquire of the Lord any further on the matter.

Just a few months later as the new school year rolled in, I jumped back into my same routine of work and taught my girls’ Bible study. In addition to that, I decided to take on two extra responsibilities: I would teach a ladies Bible study group and take a graduate level course at the university to further my education and expand future professional opportunities. I had gone straight into the new school year in exactly the opposite direction of “rest.”

By October, I was exhausted. As I had committed myself to these responsibilities, people counted on me, and school tuition was way too expensive for me to give half of myself to the work demands. I was committed to all that I had agreed to do for at least another two months. By now, I realized I had gone about my own course rather than listened to the polite nudge of the Holy Spirit. What I tried to substitute in place of God’s plan of rest for me fell short in every respect, and it started to show up– even in areas where years of hard work and success were written on it.

Interestingly, when Jonah ran away from the Lord, headed for Tarshish, it was a city about 2,500 miles from Israel. As such, it was one of the farthest places in the opposite direction of Nineveh that Jonah could go (Jonah 1:3a). Isn’t it the same with us? When God calls us to do something and we don’t do it, we end up going in the polar opposite direction of God’s intention for us.

Jonah was called to go to Nineveh, and his disobedience to set sail in the opposite direction didn’t come without its consequences. The ship encountered a severe storm. It almost cost the lives of himself and others. As lots were cast for the cause of this unusual storm, the lot fell to Jonah; the accusations rolled in: “Tell us, who is responsible for making all this trouble for us? What do you do? Where do you come from? What is your country? From what people are you?” and lastly, “What have you done?” (Jonah 1:8-10).

For Jonah to correct-course, it was not a “sunshine and roses” turning point. Jonah literally was thrown overboard by the crew into a raging sea (Jonah 1:15). Others–the crew– had to take matters into their own hands because of Jonah’s continual obstinance, and it was at the discretion and expense of their consciences as Jonah’s actions had not only endangered himself but those with him in the same boat.

Here we see God echo Jonah’s call to mission in his life. God orchestrated the storm and its restoration to calmness once he was thrown in; He also honored the crew’s reckless abandonment to find a quick solution to save their lives as God provided a whale where Jonah would miraculously sit in its belly, undigested, for the next three days.

God holds him in that dark, smelly place where Jonah couldn’t escape the presence of his God. God had to separate Jonah, alone, from others, so that He could perform “spiritual surgery” on Jonah’s disobedient heart. Only until that deep internal work was done did God “command the whale to vomit Jonah out” (Jonah 2:10). The call on Jonah’s life was irrevocable because God would make sure however He had to do it, He would bring Jonah to His purpose regardless of Jonah’s actions or inactions.

By the end of the book, it is revealed that Jonah knew if he complied with God’s mission for Nineveh, the means to the end would be God’s plan would ultimately prevail. Jonah did not wish for the betterment of others as much as himself and what he thought was the right path. Similar to Jonah, I had developed an unhealthy mindset about God and how my current life situation stood at the time: Why hope and pray? No matter what I do, You are going to do what You want to do anyway. In my restless state of mind, I talked to a friend about it:

“I’ve given Him everything He’s asked of me. I’m afraid He’ll ask for more.”

“Whose is it?” my good friend asked me as I aired my restlessness.

I knew my friend was right. “I’ve given Him whatever He wants.”

“For what?”

“For what, what??” I laughed out loud at my reply. “There is no what.”

My friend’s simple line of questioning had drawn it out of me. Up to that point, I knew I had obeyed God in His requests for my life because of who He is. The foundation of understanding was there, but the living-it-out part was cracked with doubts and worries and fears. I was holding onto my plans– though flawed in its corruptible security– rather than God’s purpose for me.

The casting of lots caused the crew members to press Jonah with questions too. His quiet disobedience had become a public appall, but God’s gifts and His calling for Jonah was under full warranty—never meant to be canceled or rescinded (Romans 11:29).

Aren’t you glad God’s mercy runs after us? Oh I’m sure Jonah wasn’t thankful that God was chasing him with His purpose to be fulfilled through him. His mercies are great and unfailing. Thank God He gives us mercy in place of our disobedience when we are “at odds with His purpose” (Romans 11:29-32).

Jonah knew exactly who he was and whose he was: “I am a Hebrew and I worship the Lord, the God of heaven, who made the sea and the land” (Jonah 1:9). Jonah also was aware of his current spiritual condition: “He knew he was running away from the Lord because he had already told [the sailors] so” (Jonah 1:10b). Like Jonah, we know Whose we are and where we are. Let’s take close inventory of ourselves and our points of navigation. Some of us may need to do an about-face if we are moving in the opposite direction of His calling on our life. It’s never too late. Our God waits for us with relentless mercy.

A closing prayer:

Lord, the best life we can live is to carry out Your plans and purpose. Help us in our disobedience to that calling when we want to go in the opposite direction of what You have told us. Thank you for Your relentless mercy that never stops short when we do. May we be pliable in Your hands so that Your will would be done here on earth as it is in heaven.

Verses:

“For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it” (Matthew 16:25).

“Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs” (Jonah 2:8).

“…for God’s gifts and his call are irrevocable” (Romans 11:29).

Photo by Artem Kovalev on Unsplash

September 24, 2022

Don’t look back; keep moving forward!

23 October 2021

It’s 4:00 A.M. on a Saturday morning. Saturday mornings are usually my favorite time of the week. Not having the responsibility of a family, I can wake up when I want, drink my coffee in peace and quiet, and write until my heart’s content. But this is not that kind of morning.

I woke up thinking of my students: strategies on how to prepare them for the ACT, procedures on handling “do nothing” behavior, and the list goes on and on. What concerns me about them isn’t just where they are in their academics but the responsibility of helping them grow up and live a passionate life.

When I taught middle school students, even in the past few years, I did it with passion. A special education teacher who is now retired even said, “You have so much passion when you teach kids. You are doing what you are meant to do.” This wasn’t someone who complimented anyone very often. I knew she wasn’t flattering me but meant the remark. Her words carried weight, and I hid them in my heart.

This year, my passion to teach has gone from a fiery bonfire and dwindled to embers. Most days I don’t teach with passion. I teach tiredly. The students can see it, and they are responding to that in their academic performance and behavior. My barely ember of a flame is not passing onto their empty torches; they definitely need someone who can.

As Halloween approached, I decided to include a short unit on Edgar Allan Poe. With him being an American writer, it would meet state curriculum standards. It felt like “home,” teaching what I would have taught around this time last year and the many years before that. I realized that the literature I had taught for so long had become a part of me, and I was terribly homesick– homesick for my old school, old friends, literature I taught effortlessly, and missed even the classroom where I had some of my best memories with students.

Maybe my embered passion is a result of the job change. Making a job change has been harder than I anticipated. With “Covid” school, last year came with its challenges. This year seems a lot harder by degrees. I feel like I am in a whirlwind of many responsibilities and that the day doesn’t give me enough time. Maybe it’s the underlying stress of a world gone to shit with the stress of inflation and finances– so many unknowns with the current state of our country. Or maybe it’s the aftermath of recently having Covid. Maybe it is all of the above. My doctor did tell me on a return visit that Covid has caused some to have insomnia and the kind of tiredness that even with much sleep, it will not absolve the issue.

This year, “I’m so tired” has been the most spoken out loud words I’ve said all year and mostly expressed to my students because I see them more than anyone else. I have decided that won’t be my go-to phrase even if I feel it. Words carry so much weight, affecting ourselves and others.

My greatest fear: I don’t want to undo what I have done– the work that has already been laid; whatever my influence was for my students during their 8th grade year, I want to build on that in their junior year.

I could cry… okay, okay…let me rephrase… I could continue to cry, but this will not accomplish anything except for a moment’s outlet of my emotions with no real effective plan for change and forward motion in a productive way.

I could look back on my last year and how great it was even though nothing about it was normal at first. I could look back, wanting what I had last year, but what was there is gone. It is so hard to trust the unknown.

Outside of my job, my focus has been on self-care so that I can unwind and recharge anew each day and week.

I ask myself this question a lot these days: What do I need to do for me today?

Put up part of my Christmas tree (although I already have fall decor around the house) before Halloween? If it cheers me up, yes!

Take a day trip to a town of nature and mountains where nobody knows me, and I don’t know them? If it brings me peace, yes!

Cancel or make NO plans over the weekend? If it brings me much needed rest in mind and body, yes!

Anything to declutter and hear the tune God is playing in my life right now.

I am not utterly discouraged. I feel like these trials are only a short-stop or slow-go to my next destination. I refuse to sit around and dwell on where I feel I fall short at this time in my career (in planning around a new curriculum and course of study, creating new assignments, and my less than best energy level) even though some might set up camp and do that among themselves. I’ve got somewhere to go. I am in between where I was and where I am headed. And it won’t look like what I have ever imagined at any time in my life. With God, it has always been very different than I’d have imagined. He is a God of wonders and surprises. Because that is His nature and He doesn’t change, I welcome what is next: Bring it on, God! Bring my surprises. I will wait for them, cherish them when they come, and breathe easy because tomorrow will bring new challenges and blessings (A mixed bag always!) together, and I choose to embrace all of it! It’s the best way, and it is God’s intended abundant life for me. Life– EVERYTHING that comes with it– is a gift to be treasured. For I cannot know good without the bad; I cannot know love without feeling unloved; I cannot fully embrace blessings if I have not known waiting. I can walk this crazy life with the assurance of One who is unchanging: He has never been against me, and right now His strength sustains me even when mine fails me.

Photo by me (November 2021): I had some of my students from last year come and visit me for lunch. It truly lifted my spirit. I guess the freshman boys were looking for a place or person of familiarity. I will cherish this forever. Some of the girls do visit sometimes, but those groups are a lot smaller than this! (lol) This is the memory I am keeping before me as I walk out this school year and is a reminder of God’s surprises for me.

November 14, 2021 2

It’s a New Chapter

God, grant me the state of being calm, peaceful, untroubled, 
accepting the things I cannot change; 
the ability to do something that frightens me; 
and the quality of good judgment over all such matters. 
(The Serenity Prayer, my emphasis added)

As 2020 comes to a close, I realize the positive changes and growth in me:

I search my heart and give myself permission, space, and a set time to grieve any losses. Some evenings before bedtime, I allow myself 10 minutes to cry, rant, pray, etc., over hurts and pain that live inside of me. Then, I go to bed and welcome a new day by moving forward.

I recognize some of my self-sabotaging behaviors. If it involves another person, I admit my mistake(s) and try to correct it as best I know how (Romans 12:18).

I accept that I make mistakes and that I will make more in the future. In the past, I have seen my mistakes as permanent damage, unrepairable, etc., but God’s mercy is greater: “If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything” (1 John 3:20).

Everyone that crosses my path is a teacher.

I live in the moment; I am more attuned to what is God showing me right now, right this moment. What a gift! He is always speaking to us: “For God does speak—now one way, now another—though no one perceives it” (Job 33:14).

I let go of controlling outcomes. In doing this, I have been pleasantly surprised (in a good way) rather than let down.

Where I have been more prone to make up “scenarios” in my mind of what might happen, I am learning that better outcomes are a result of me being proactive rather than reactive. I have self-control because of His Spirit (Galatians 5:23).

I work hard, yet I make rest just as much a priority.

I’ve settled the one lingering question I have had about what I am looking for in a husband. It’s simple: Someone who will LEAD: lead by example; lead the connection; lead in spirit and in truth; and lead in love.

I realize that as much as I love some people, God has a specific purpose for me and not everyone will walk alongside me in that journey. Because of this perspective, I am seeing the bigger picture.

I pause and breathe to calm myself.

I stopped replaying and talking about the things that happened to me or hurt me. I mostly talk to God when things bother me. This has helped quiet my spirit as I wait patiently for God’s healing.

Instead of being guarded, I am open to what God has in store for me and my future. I am excited actually. I know He means goodness (and mercy—so important!) for me all the days of my life, and He will withhold no good thing (Psalm 23:6 & Psalm 84:11).

I have experienced unconditional love from my friends. What can I say?? THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! You have shown me what it is, what it looks like, and made me believe I am worthy of it in all of my relationships.

I focus more on what I have than what I don’t have: I have an amazing career where I can use the gifts and talents God has given me; I have coworkers and classmates who have helped me hone in on my craft as a teacher; I have a beautiful, welcoming home where others (and myself) can experience a place of refuge; I have a community of neighbors willing to help me in my time of need; I have a church family that embraces me; I have lifelong friends who know my story and who continue to love me unconditionally; and I have had the resources and time to invest further in my education so that I can broaden career options. Lastly, I have my health and am able to thrive in life.

I trust God’s timing and plan for my life.

I have learned that not all things are black and white. Even in the darker times this past year, I learned something about myself and my relationships. My pain wasn’t wasted.

“No” is a grace-filled answer sometimes.

Living alone doesn’t have to be lonely. I am focusing on self-care and self-love for the first time.

I have invested in a life-coach, or rather she invests in me. It is a safe-space where I talk to her once a week for an hour about my thoughts and what is going on in my life. In talking to her, I am noticing my patterns– We all have them! I welcome constructive criticism because I know this person loves me and wants to see my growth. (She will never know how much this means to me.)

Many times I have been more indirect than direct in my communication with others. I am changing the way I express my requests, pushing fear and pride aside (2 Timothy 1:7).

I have changed my verbiage from “I deserve better” to “I am worth it!” I will not settle for less than I am worth!

Small steps are progress, and I celebrate those.

I am taking risks. If a desire in my heart surfaces, I am pursuing it (Psalm 37:4).

My motto for 2021 is to embrace my most genuine, authentic self and not forget the important words of the Serenity Prayer. My best is yet to come. My story is not over.

Photo by Chinh Le Duc on Unsplash

January 10, 2021 2

Come home, my beloved; I’m waiting.

“‘Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God'” (Ruth 1:16).

My former husband use to poke fun at me whenever we would travel. As soon as we arrived at our lodging place, I would unpack toiletries, placing them in their useful area. He called it “nesting”. Apparently my first priority is to make even a temporary place feel like home.

I notice that I am constantly “nesting” as I clean and organize, more prone to these tasks when I feel things in my life are beyond my control; I work with my hands for a grounding effect. In working on bigger repairs and projects this summer, they proved to be more than just home improvements. While I worked with my hands, God worked on my heart.

As my recent love life had taken a sudden, unexpected detour, I wrestled for clarity about what was in my heart and what was God’s heart for me. I struggled through this process of surrender because although it was a call to die to something, it was coupled with believing God in faith that He will answer these long-awaited hopes of my heart.

Little did I know how quickly God would readily breathe anew into this wasteland of my life! I tackled my last big home project toward the end of July. As I set about the repairs of sanding and re-staining areas of my back porch, I sensed a deep longing within. What was the driving force behind all of this hard work? Was it for the satisfaction to check off a task on the to-do list? Was it to diminish a worry over the wear and tear of my home that would only get worse if not tended to in a timely manner? For these two things alone, they could have initially been a motivator; God had something else in mind. In working with my hands, my mind sifted through a rush of varying emotions until I found clarity. The desire for a husband was so strong, stronger than it has ever been; it felt like I was working on my house because I’m waiting for him to come home.

This part of my life feels nothing short a miracle, not only that this desire would be fulfilled but also that this has become God’s ordering of my prayers. Like Ezekiel in the midst of a lifeless valley of dry bones (Ezekiel 37), I spoke words that poured forth like rushing waters: “Come home, my husband. Come home to me.”

As my hands steadily worked with the wood of my home, I knew what I was calling forth didn’t necessarily mean the actual home we would dwell in (mine, his, or ours). This was about the spiritual union of “home” that we will find in each other.

As I wrote this, so many Scriptures came to mind. I have included them here. Regardless of what life looks like from here on for me or for you, these are the real seeds of promise. As I prepare my heart for any outcome, I place my hope in God, the giver of good gifts to His children.

Photo by Krists Luhaers on Unsplash

Verses

“The Lord God said, ‘It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him’” (Genesis 2:18, NIV).

“The purposes of a person’s heart are deep waters, but one who has insight draws them out” (Proverbs 20:5, NIV).

“Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4, ESV).

“For it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose” (Philippians 2:13).

“Who is this coming up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved?” (Song of Solomon 8:5, NKJ).

“But Ruth replied, ‘Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God’” (Ruth 1:16, NIV).

“Therefore, a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh” (Genesis 2:24, ESV).

“But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (Matthew 6:33).

“Restless in bed and sleepless through the night,
    I longed for my lover.
    I wanted him desperately. His absence was painful.
So I got up, went out and roved the city,
    hunting through streets and down alleys.
I wanted my lover in the worst way!
    I looked high and low, and didn’t find him.
And then the night watchmen found me
    as they patrolled the darkened city.
    ‘Have you seen my dear lost love?’ I asked.
No sooner had I left them than I found him,
    found my dear lost love.
I threw my arms around him and held him tight,
    wouldn’t let him go until I had him home again,
    safe at home beside the fire.” (Song of Solomon 3:1-4, MSG)

“I belong to my beloved and he belongs to me…” (Song of Solomon 6:3a, BSB).

“For husbands, this means love your wives, just as Christ loved the church. He gave up his life for her” (Ephesians 5:25).

“Who is this coming up from the wilderness
like a column of smoke,
perfumed with myrrh and incense
made from all the spices of the merchant?” (Song of Solomon 3:6, NIV) (Note: As I studied this verse, the Holy Spirit prompted me in its meaning: Make sure he noticeably has the aroma of Christ on him.)

“Whenever the day came for Elkanah to sacrifice, he would give portions of the meat to his wife Peninnah and to all her sons and daughters. But to Hannah he gave a double portion because he loved her, and the Lord had closed her womb. Because the Lord had closed Hannah’s womb, her rival kept provoking her in order to irritate her. This went on year after year. Whenever Hannah went up to the house of the Lord, her rival provoked her till she wept and would not eat. Her husband Elkanah would say to her, ‘Hannah, why are you weeping? Why don’t you eat? Why are you downhearted? Don’t I mean more to you than ten sons?’” (1 Samuel 1:4-8, NIV) (I want so badly to have a family with you, my beloved, even if it’s just the two of us.)

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Romans 15:13).

“[Abraham] is our father in the sight of God, in whom he believed—the God who gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were” (Romans 4:17).

“Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust. Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” (Psalm 91:1-4)

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:9-11).

“Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10).

September 23, 2020

Coming Back to the Heart of Worship

“God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth.” (John 4:24)

I treasure natural conversations with others that center around our spiritual walk with God. It was refreshing to open this sort of dialogue with someone close to me just a couple of weeks ago. We talked about God opening doors of opportunity, walking in the will of God, and communing with Him. That conversation stayed with me, and I mulled over one particular portion of it where my friend mentioned prayer, how he just talked to God and told Him he loved Him. His statement convicted me. Besides corporate worship, I couldn’t remember the last time I personally worshiped Him in sustained adoration for who He is; I had bombarded Him lately only with my requests and concerns.

A few days later, a particular worship song reeled in my mind and spirit; I pulled up the song on my cell phone and listened to it on my way to work. I came without an agenda. No requests were made. I needed to feel the closeness of God.

In that intentional moment of worship, I dwelled on Him— His name, His goodness, and His faithfulness. As I entered His presence, three immediate benefits followed: Peace flowed like a river and sustained all throughout that day and even the days that followed (Isaiah 66:12a); like a reset, He became the focal point in all my thoughts, dealings, and interactions with others (Colossians 3:1-4); and I experienced a vulnerable freedom to be myself without reservation or pretense (2 Corinthians 3:17). This spiritual encounter brought about something supernatural with the much needed reminder that the communing intimacy of God is unmatched, paling in comparison with the fellowship of others.

I am thankful the Holy Spirit showed up in my Honda that day. He didn’t shut the door on me and say, “It’s been a long time. Too long.” Like a lifetime, old friend, from my last personal worship encounter to this one, the gap in between didn’t matter; He welcomed me in His presence without guilt or shame. How comforting it is to know that we have an open-door policy with Him always, no matter how long we’ve been away and no matter the condition of our heart!

I am also thankful for the divine conversation with my friend who moved me forward in my faith. It appointed the act of intentional, loving worship. Instead of looking for His hand, I looked for His face. And I found Him.

Photo by Jude Beck on Unsplash

January 28, 2020 5

A Letter to Myself

Between my divorce and now, you know what happened in the middle? You found Him (God). Those years in between felt like an exile, but you learned what a home was and made one for yourself. You learned to be decisive without overthinking and worrying since your life is in His hands. You learned to give up control of who people are and how they treat you. You learned to be content in any and all circumstances. You found peace. A man didn’t give you any of these things, which means now your expectations on another have been minimalized. This gives the other person in your life license to be who they are, accepting them just as they are. Just don’t forget your value and stick up for yourself when need be. You are a person with a will and emotions, unique and valued. You need to take care of yourself rather than look to another human being to do it for you.

You have made mistakes. You are making mistakes. You will make mistakes. This is a part of life. When you get hard on yourself for your screw ups, remember the advice and consoling encouragement you give others. You give so much grace to others; you are worthy of it too. Do you hold mistakes over people’s heads? No. So don’t do it to yourself. Let God have the final say. He knew what you would do before you did it and still thought you were worth dying for.

You are excited and scared at this juncture of your life. You fear these three things most right now: getting your heart broken, failing health, and being alone. At one point all of these things are going to happen in some shape, form, or fashion. You’ve faced these kind of situations before, and you made it. You survived. Remember what that Springville Camp preacher said about people who have suffered most? “They are the most dangerous people in the world because they know they can survive.” You are a survivor and an overcomer. Whether these things are healed here on earth or in heaven, you win. You will survive any storm thrown your way on this earth because you trust in God who is your anchor of hope. He has never forsaken you or left you alone. Ever. And He never will. When everything else changes around you, God will not. He is your constant. He is peace. He is hope. He is strength. Run to Him when you get tired and weary.

What if _________ isn’t the one? What if you never marry again? Continue to walk in the path God shows you and do not fear. God’s plans for you are bigger and greater than any dream you could ever conjure up for yourself. It will all work out in the end exactly the way it was supposed to all along.

You’re surprised when something good happens to you. You’ve always waited for the other shoe to drop. God has good things planned for you, plans from long ago that cannot be thwarted, which means you cannot mess things up enough and neither can those who might oppose you. You and your contenders are just not powerful enough to change your destiny; only God is.

So rest. Rest is active spiritual warfare. You are just now learning what that is, and it has proved more effective than you expected. God has more things to show you. Let go and let God. You are in the best of hands. You are His beloved.

Photo by Freddy Castro on Unsplash

August 7, 2019

The Brave Missionary

One thing I’ve noticed when talking to missionaries is their passion and ability to hold onto their stories and retell them in such a profound and vivid way. Ask any missionary about their mission work, and be ready to hear an out-pouring of their heart. They are more than willing to share their stories, full of detailed experiences that have made a significant mark on their life. I’ve enjoyed listening to their stories too. I also have visited countries on mission trips and have found that my visits and interaction with the nationals have left a lasting impression on my life.

Something about missionaries’ stories and their enthusiasm to share them makes me want to partake as an observant listener. I savor their stories as if slowly sipping on a hot cup of tea. Mix passion with a true account of something, and I am drawn in instantly. I de-stress, and with ease, as they reenter that world, I enter with them. That’s what happened to me one Sunday when I visited the Harris family. I would enter their world of mission work as they told me their story.

In 1976 while cleaning a church auditorium and listening to a taped sermon of a missionary to the Philippines, Travis and Earlene Harris responded to the call to become missionaries. Mr. Harris was pastoring a church in Phenix City, Alabama. They went on deputation to raise support and then arrived in Holland late summer of ‘78. The young couple in their late 20’s with their three children at the time (11, 9, and 2 years of age) would move to Europe, giving up their home; the closeness of extended family; financial security; the familiarity of like-minded people who spoke their same language; and a freedom state of government for a more regulatory one.

The countries of Holland/Belgium were their choice areas of ministry since it was very populated with over 25 million people. It wouldn’t be as easy as selling everything they had, flying to Europe, and picking up life where they left off in the United States though. Starting off as a missionary came with its challenges. Especially earlier on, Mrs. Harris explained how she didn’t want to leave the house because of the language barrier and not understanding their currency. Feeling vulnerable, she said they had to learn for a while how not to be stressed.

There always seemed to be some type of new challenge to overcome, too, even after living in the country for several years. Towards the end of their ministry, something as simple as having trash picked up proved to be an ordeal. People who lived there had to sign up and pay for the trash containers, using only the bins provided by the government. Nothing was wasted; everything was recycled. The city wouldn’t recognize the Harris’ since their latest permission to stay in the country had been delayed, so they ended up having to live with their own trash in the storage closet of their home. A US military service man found out about the situation and politely offered to secretly dispose of the trash at the local military base. Even though nothing major might have happened if caught in this arrangement, it’s just one of those little things that compounds the stressful situation they were already in.

Medical attention is vastly different in Europe than in the United States. Dentists and doctors work out of their homes for basic care. The person scheduling the appointment, preparing the service, and practicing medicine might all be a one man operation. Mrs. Harris shared how she had a growth underneath her skin near her eye. The home care, primary doctor told her it needed to be lanced at the hospital. She would arrive at the hospital on the day that particular procedure would be performed on her and all others that needed similar services. They would be seated in rows and moved down like an assembly line until their turn. Once called back, the doctors performed the procedure without any protective face masks and surgical gloves. If an instrument was dropped during the procedure, no sterilization was used. They would pick it up and continue where they left off. Also in some cases, no anesthetic was used to numb the pain for the patient during a procedure. Not only would the pain of some topical procedures be felt by the patient but also one would be well aware of what was happening to them during the duration of the procedure. Once Mrs. Harris was told she had to have back surgery. After discussing it with her husband, he sent her back to the states for surgery. Taking the x-rays with her, a US doctor examined them and said her back was fine; it was her hip that was out of socket, which they popped back into place. This was a good call for the Harris’. Although any medical practice, whether in Europe or the States, is likely to make poor judgment calls, at least Mrs. Harris didn’t have to go through that traumatizing event for nothing.

With the couple being in their 70’s now, what stirred my heart the most was hearing Mr. Harris’s continued burden for the people in Holland and Belgium. He spoke of their lost faith. Roughly 3%, mostly the older generation, attend church. With such a devastating history, these area European countries have always been run over in terms of the global conflict of both world wars, especially the second. The turn toward Humanism after WWII could have been connected to the desolation that Germany left both countries in and why it had happened. Many of the religious leaders gave into the Nazis so readily. All that together most likely had an effect and made way for Humanistic ideologies. It is unimaginable what the people went through and how it affected their belief and the belief of future generations. What did the effects of that look like for the Harris’ as a Christian missionary family? Mr. Harris said he probably knocked on 3,000 doors, and the people were so hardhearted in hearing the gospel, they’d ignore him.

Returning to life in the States after being missionaries in Europe for 30 years, they felt displaced. It was hard to know where home was for the Harris’. Mr. Harris explained the struggle by quoting what Gerald Rose, a missionary friend, once said: “Being in Europe, you miss the comforts of the United States. Being in the United States, you feel the burden to be in Europe. I just finally told a man one day when he asked where home was, I told him it’s where my wife is.” These last shared statements really moved me. Missionaries make life-long connections to a people not their own, but their true home is found in their familial relationships (which I have observed is the case for most missionary families I have met). I’ve spent a few Sundays with the Harris family now, and I’m envious of their strong family bond. Living in America, they relied on outside institutions that procured a stable and secure way of life; once in Europe, they gave up those comforts where they would turn inward and cling to each other, and God, for reassurance of an unknown future. I am convinced that a family that will sacrifice for a greater purpose than themselves will secure everlasting bonds that couldn’t be achieved otherwise. This was the result for the Harris family— all because a young couple decided to be brave and go (Matthew 28:18-20).

I admire people like the Harris’ and other missionaries, mainly for the sacrifices they make. They sacrifice the pleasures and comforts of a normal life, which may include but not limited to, the luxuries of air conditioning, clean drinking water, hot showers, and the convenience and closeness of familial relations. They forego a private life in their monies, and most of all, what we take for granted—the quietness of life. They lay their life down only to yield it up for the greater purpose to serve others. They live a life of needs, not wants, denying themselves the indulgences and pleasures of what most of us see as the American dream. To me, the life of a missionary is poignant, defined, and centered—the most simple life— free from the distractions that so readily and easily strangle true joy. And the most astounding wonder of all? Missionaries, like the Harris’, choose this life of surrender, knowingly and willingly.

I ask myself, what is it about the missionary and their stories that wet my appetite to hear more. A heightened sense of gratification pours out of missionaries where worldly pleasures become “other,” obsolete and unnecessary; true freedom is found with less entanglements. When one lives out a spiritual calling for God, what really matters comes to the surface, and all other cares and concerns ebb away. It’s the essence of “less is more,” and it seems the happiest life.

Like the Harris’, I carry my heart for missions in a similar way. In my home, I have a small nook where I do my daily devotions. It’s a refuge and hideaway for me. My special spot holds the faces of people I’ve met in El Salvador and Costa Rica on mission trips. The hyperbole that a picture is worth a thousand words speaks true. Each stilled photograph captures a face containing a complexity of emotions: loss, concern, worry, contentment, growth, and hope. Void of anything superficial, I continually peek into the photographs of their lives as a reminder of what’s most important in this life. Like a mirror, their faces remind me of who I am and, more so, of what I long to be—an offering poured out for others and for my God.

August 2, 2019 2

Giving Up Your Isaac

“Then God said, ‘Take your son, your only son, whom you love– Isaac– and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on the mountain I will show you.’” (Genesis 22:2, NIV)

I thought I was doing good by holding this one area in my life with open hands. Yes, that’s how I prayed about it too: Here, God. It’s yours, not mine, so I bring it to you with open hands. That prayer seemed to keep my anxious thoughts at bay for a little while, until it didn’t work anymore.

While working the Freedom conference at my church this spring (2019), I was thankful to be on the intercessor team where I could pray, focus, and worship. Although I bathed the red team (prayer team) in prayer, God was doing His own work in my heart over a man I had fallen in love with, yet couldn’t find real rest about him or the relationship. We were two very different people, opposites in more ways than not; we had both been hurt badly in our past marriage and dating relationships. Instead of drawing on those things to strengthen our relationship, it inevitably seemed to be tearing us apart. We were both very leery of trusting one another. I felt I was at a crossroads with it all. I couldn’t go on like this anymore, and I felt he couldn’t either. Neither of us wanted to call it quits, so our relationship coasted on little to no communication. The current state of the relationship was eating at me on the inside. My heart was broken.

As I circled the room in prayer, God spoke to me: You’ve kept your hands open with him, but you need to lay him down. I was not expecting this word quite honestly. I was hoping for a quick-fix answer, a solution to the current state of our relationship. I felt dismay. I could only understand God’s command in one way only: I needed to let him go by placing him, my heart for him, at the foot of the cross. Everything in my flesh cried out to clinch him in those opened hands and tell God, “No!” But I knew there was no use in fighting God. I wouldn’t get what I wanted or rather what God wanted for me if I disobediently rebelled in the opposite direction of His instructions.

During lunch break on the last day of the conference, I opened up to a friend who was working the conference with me. As I presented my case, she agreed that there seemed to be no use holding onto the relationship in its current state, one where God seemed to be speaking release.

The Freedom conference resumed after lunch, and the next topic presented was on despair and the feeling of hopelessness. My friend, whom I had just shared my story, was sitting next to me. We looked at each other, knowing the message was as much for me as the participants of the conference. As participants were called forth for prayer, my spirit did a nose dive, and my upper body burrowed into my friend’s arms. I poured my heart out to her this time without holding back any of my feelings. The despair and hopelessness wasn’t just over the man I loved. I’d hit another dead end, something that felt like a common thread throughout my life in the past decade. Quite frankly, I was tired of it and expressed those feelings. I was beyond frustrated. Tears streamed down my face while we both prayed over the situation. As my friend finished her prayer over me, she spoke to my clasped hope: “You will have to let it go, and I know it feels like there is no hope, but with Jesus, there is always hope.” Her words brought a spirit-infused hope to my soul.

Her prayer and her words of encouragement sealed it. Like a burnt offering, I had “sacrificed” him entirely on the altar– the whole: I laid him down. I laid down my wanting heart– my strong, stubborn will to have him, and I laid down all my dreams of a future I had conjured up in my mind with him.

Through the piercing pain of heartache, I was thankful I had met him. I didn’t regret one moment with him. I didn’t even regret the pain of having to let him go. It was a test that would become a part of my testimony. Although I knew I loved him very much, I knew I loved Jesus more. The sacrifice was a tribute to the God I love. Though it wasn’t easy, it was necessary.

I believe God is still writing this story. He has shown me so much as I have continued to obey His word to let go of something my heart longed to control. I believe this principle is at work here: “Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal” (John 12:24-25, MSG).

And that is the hope. It’s the sacrifice, death, and resurrection of something that has to die so that something greater will be.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

June 7, 2019 1