One Word (?) and the Unexpected

From December 1 - 25, 2015 I've been a part of a writing project called 25 Days for Peace. It was set up by a person I barely knew and I decided ok lets plunge. I did it. I wrote or contributed something those past 25 days. I used to be (and still am) a person who will start something and then let it go. This though IS something other.

For the past year and a half I have been under construction. It's been a tearing down of sorts. Nicaragua is still my heart. And since then many, many wild things has happened. Many too many in fact. But isn't that the way God works. He works in the small ordinary ways to the big, blazing in the sky ways.

Instead of doing a resolution this year I am picking a word. I did it last year and was intentional in the fact that I was aware of the word and looking back I can see how the word has been used. I did not actively pursue it but it became a choice. The word was love. This last year has been one of love. Not the fuzzy, comforting kind but the kind that dares you to give more than you have and to connect with people. As a confessed introvert and fear of attachment girl was a challenge. Yet. When I chose loving, connecting...risking it was a pleasant surprise. I prayed for God to show me love. I did not announce it to anyone because I would (in my head) be considered crazy. This year though for 2016 the word is *voice*. I have considered others...bravery, freedom, risking but what I keep coming back to is voice. I've not written Nicaragua Calling for a year and a half because I lacked confidence in the said voice. But...after the 25 day challenge I found it returning. Risking. Last night I posted something on Facebook about spiritual abuse. I was scared to say anything about the topic because of my past. Instead though I knew I had to put my heart out there. So I did it.


I have 3 entries from 2014 that I did not publish. I know why. I was afraid. Afraid to risk. Afraid to speak. Afraid to voice. Today? I will speak, I will risk, I will voice. God is like that. Healing...risking, loving. I read Psalm 4 this morning. He is the Glory and the Lifter of my head...giving me the wonderful gift of using my voice.

He will cover

Wings. Birds. Life from death.

trembling naked
me a child
hurting pain
that was hidden in the inner
part

Wings, Birds. His life for my death.

heal me
from this ugly
that mutes my voice
deadens my
soul

Wings, Birds. His life for my life.

hindsight blinded
into an early
coma that was
not my choice
until

Wings, Birds. His life for my breath. His life for my voice.

Sunday's Dance

Jeremiah 31:13 English Standard Version (ESV) 13 Then shall the young women rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old shall be merry. I will turn their mourning into joy;*** It was crazy yesterday. We were busy and for me at least out of my element and routine. Normally we do the 1st service at church and then go home...Yesterday was the oppisite. The church decided to have a brunch between services. There were hundreds of people in the gym and out in the courtyard eating... I like routine. I like quiet. During set up a friend of mine and I would help some then retreat to the halls of the church to check out the artwork. That was awesome. During this time I am on edge. Unsure; chaotic inside. This is where grace has to step in and cover when I am fearful. I keep telling myself that this is special a time of celebration...but I am still wary...so many people... Brunch is over and we get settled in the sanctuary to get ready for second service. Bruce realizes he has to tear down the brunch. I am panicking. Instead of placing my comfort in God I am placing my trust and comfort in a person. I want to whine that I need him but realize he needs to serve and worship in his way and I in mine. More people come in. The pews are packed. I love it. I see Bruce again but because of all the people we cannot sit together. My child heart is disappointed. But I continue on with the service. In the sweetness of grace we manage to do communion together. I am anxious. So many people… One of the beautiful traditions of Sunday is on the last hymn the children come up and dance. I long to do that…to dance. Bruce and I have talked about it. I have told him that before we go to Nicaragua I want to be up there and dance… The last song begins…He taps my shoulder and says come on…I whisper I am scared. No. He says it is ok I am going up to dance. I get out of the pew we walk down front. There is a tambourine on the floor Bruce grabs it and starts to sing. I am undone. My fear, my joy my love for God and the work He has done in our life comes down to a simple Resurrection dance with children. Though I am not dancing yet..I am touching my husband’s back in tears...Singing knowing that one day I really will dance..until that time it is enough to be scared. Unsure…but knowing the call. Knowing God and loving and believing and struggling..*** Psalm 30:11 English Standard Version (ESV) 11 You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,

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?

In December I had a serious 4 day trip to Nicaragua. To qualify this Bruce has been going down for over 10 years. I at the time did not feel the urge to go but at the same time felt a pang. A hunger to do the same.

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..