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Monday, July 28, 2014
Days Like Today
where the enemy is tromping my brain with you can't!
It is on days like today
where I have to walk away and simply breathe.
It is on days like today
where I realize you are not the enemy.
It is on days like today
where all I can do is cry out to the Father.
It is on days like today
when I don't understand.
It is on days like today
when simply oh so simply cling.
It is on days like today
when
I am overwhelmed.
I am scared.
I am wanting to scream.
I am confused.
I am trying.
I am praying.
And He whispers
I am.
Friday, July 25, 2014
Suitcases, Baggage and a Bird
When we pack for the short term my family packs our essentials in the carry on bag then leave various items behind on purpose.
Eventually we will be packing for the long haul. A relocation. An uprooting. My husband thinks about items that we can down now and leave at the property until we come home. I let him ponder the issue. My only stake is this. If we bring our *stuff* down now won't it take away from what we can give now? He will conceed and we will pack the items needed for the village.
How do I even begin to pack for my bonus son? He has his classic nintendos and playstations. With his aspergerest tendencies I know that when we relocate that will be his balm and transition.
So I pray for preparation and wisdom for our short term trips and the eventual relocation.
With this prayer comes the emotional baggage. This is the hardest part to write about. How can I as a shattered woman with a colorful past come face to face with a dream, a calling much bigger than I could ever envision. How could God take my brokeness and use it for whatever it is I am supposed to do there. I tell some of my close friends that I am not a missionary but we are retiring to Nica. That is easier to handle. How can God use me. I have been divorced. I have been the woman at the well. I have lost everything and in turn gained Jesus. I am not shiny. I am not...
And in the midst of the P word (preparation) He has me in therapy. Deep, intense and dare I say freeing? Individual and couple therapy :)...Thanks God
On our short term trip a month ago I wore sleeveless shirts. There are tattoos covering my upper body. In another culture especially Nica it is considered Malo. BAD. I had kept them covered up in the past like most of my life. Covered, Hidden, and Unspoken.
On my left upper arm there are three birds lifting a young girl to safety from the storm clouds below. It is personal testimony of how God rescued me as a child..
I was exposed...baggage...broken...turned to art work...turned to a gift.
During the trip we were visiting families in the village. We intentionally went to one home to talk and share news. While there the woman shyly shared the baby bird she was raising by hand. I am stopped short. In the immense poverty of barely being able to eat she is caring for another creature...and in that realization I saw that God again was whispering my name. In haste I pointed to my birds in tears and she wanted to give me the baby bird as a gift...
I couldn't take the bird with me but she is going to continue raising it until we come home. She kissed both of my cheeks wiped my tears and we hugged.
Packing, unpacking. Baggage and a bird.
And honestly I wouldn't have it any other way...
http://velvetashes.com/the-grove-pack/
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Silence in the Journey
My faith had been coming back in waves. I thought that my faith was big. God was doing a, b, c, in my life. But I found myself afraid in the midst of the giant faith. I found myself bargaining with God. And really I am embarrassed by it. My faith had become superstitious and dependent on the fact that God would do this if this came out a certain way. And I mean I was wrapped up in this obsession in daily mundane tasks. I thought God and I were great! I had Jesus in my back pocket. He approved of me because I was good. I was reading the Bible, I was praying, I was healing...doing the Christian thing...despite my panic...
Then an outside word entered my prayer life. The P word. Preparation. I started daily praying for the team going down to Nicaragua in June of this year. I started asking God to prepare me...us (my husband and I) for the trip. I had God in my back pocket. My assumptions were good, the nagging terror always there.
It happened. The preparation prayer revealed areas in my life that shook my foundation of faith. At one point I wailed to my friend...I have nowhere else to go but God. How could He take my superstitious faith and remove it for nothing. Not even a mustard seed iota of belief. And the funny thing is in the midst of nothing there was something.
I sat still.
I was silent.
I let myself grieve before God.
I was angry.
I was questioning.
I was just being.
I did not want to go to Nicaragua. How could I when I was a mess. I had to be perfect. My rabbit's foot faith was blown to smithereens. I had nothing to hold on to.
That is how I entered my homeland on June 14, 2014. For 7 days.
The P word that I prayed. Preparation.
Those 7 days there...in Poneloya, Nicaragua became wonder filled, rich days where I lived 5 years in one day..
I was greeted with a migraine the first full morning there. I did no bargaining with God. I did not look for signs. I simply asked Him to help me cope and move on with the day. The migraine was eased by my meds. And I moved on.
Was the trip hard? Yes. Was it easy? Yes. Was I prepared? Yes. Am I still preparing yes. Was I unprepared most definitely yes. But in the midst of my brokeness and unbelief...I was ok. I was listening...God and
Nicaragua is still calling...
http://velvetashes.com/the-grove-prepare/
Monday, April 21, 2014
Sunday's Dance
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Silent Saturday
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Broken Pieces
With healing comes questions. I have been meditating on Psalm 139. It says that He knew us before we were born. He knows all of our days...and that I cannot escape His Spirit. Never can I flee from Him. Never!
So I have been thinking on this. And I am angry. But it is a detached, dejected, wimpering little girl...angry. And I dared to voice it to my Father.
While talking with a friend yesterday we were talking about brokeness and a vase. (reminds me a bit of the potter and the clay in Isaiah 64) She dared to say that all the pieces of my life have been smashed. Shattered. In the back of my head I am saying to myself- my pieces so small I don't know if even I can find them. I then tell her about the general patching of broken vases with gold so that they are made stronger. More precious because of the cracks being filled with gold. We talk a bit more on the subject and she exclaims OH...I see this! YOU ARE A BEAUTIFUL GOLDEN VASE!!!!!! I am like huh what? She says yes those tiny pieces that were broken and that don't really fit are surrounded and put together with gold.
My God sees me as this...MY God sees me as this...My GOD!!!!!
And during this conversation my phone vibrates and I choose to ignore it.
On my way home a friend sent me a random text at the exact time my friend and I are discussing this.
And the text is of the now infamous Kitsukuroi..to repair with Gold...
And to put the proper Christian spin on it. I am bought with His blood. Spotless. BLAMELESS. How much more precious (and I mean this with all my heart) is that which was bought by the Lamb. I am humbled that despite when I air the brokeness His love pours through...
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Days like this...
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Trust and the Hawk
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Sometimes...I doubt
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Waiting
Bruce went back to Nica for 10 days a few weeks ago. I had no way of going. It pained me beyond what has been the norm. I was angry. It was a slow week. And I stewed in self pity. It was the only way I thought to survive. I prayed for him and the team and did my usual worry and duties around the home.
This winter has been one for the records. .between snow and cold the tropics are yelling my name...loud.
It was mid week and we were hunkered down for yet another snow storm. The pantry was full to over flowing. My family safe and warm.
Then there was a knock at the door. We had befriend two preteen girls down the street. And it was the youngest. She had a box in hand asking if I would buy these items so that her mom and sister could eat.
It stopped me short. These kind of things don't happen in America. In my head I am questioning do they have food stamps? Do they have welfare? Are they playing me the fool?
About 3 months ago a lady came to our door asking for bus fare and I turned her away because I doubted her story. It has haunted me since...
I tell A. To hold on I have no money but have food. I tell her if she needs money come back tomorrow and I will buy the goods.
I loaded up the bag with some items and hand them back to her she is grateful and leaves to go home.
I watch her skinny frame dissappear into the snow storm and then I understood. My calling is here for the time being at home. My healing comes in the doubts, the fears and stumblings.
If someone else comes to the door again I will make sure I have bus fare ready...
Who Me?
But, and this is a big confession, I walked away in 2001. I walked away from God, the Church, from every thing that I thought was true. And I ran. I ran into buddhism, the tao and essentially hedonism. It was about me. God had not delivered my dreams and desires.
During the 90's I was a good girl. I read my bible. I did the bible studies. Was a stay at home mom. In reality I was dying inside and I did not know why. I thought that if I could just love God more, be the perfect wife be what ever it was every one else was doing I would be ok. But it wasn't so. I was hurting. Dealing with a past that haunted me to the point that I needed drugs and alcohol to function properly in public. People scared me.
My first marriage fell apart. The covenant that I had made with God I had broken and I thought that I- yes I was beyond all hope. So I walked away.
During the 10 years of wandering I would dream. Dream of church, dream of worship. To few of my christian friends I mouthed that I believed but my behaviour and heart told me otherwise. The happiest times in my life during the 10 year wandering was 1. getting sober 2. literally dreaming of worship at night.
During the 10 year stint Bruce and I got married. We mouthed God but did not live it. Our marriage was falling apart too.
Two years ago I started going to intensive therapy to deal with deep wounds. I thought initially that I was going to save Bruce and my marriage. In reality it was the deep cleansing of a shattered soul.
On Easter of 2012 I walked into church again (that tale is for another blog). Suffice it to say I was on my knees that night giving all back to the Lord. My husband joined me at church the next weekend and we came home for good to God.
During this journey from when I was 18 and first *saved* I had a desire to do missions work. Family told me no. Of late last year I knew that I wasn't ready....yet. Then December of 2013 I went for 4 days. I came back changed. I lived 2 years in those 4 days. Had my heart and soul rearranged in such a way that Nicarauga and the people there consume my heart and soul. Remember how I was scared (and still am at times) of people? That was gone when I was there.
So I question at times...who me? God, you know my messy past..God you know my heart...and He so lovingly answers back in the stillness of here and now...Yes YOU..