Trains

There's nothing like riding a train.

I can drive twenty minutes to a neighboring city, park in a less congested parking lot, put four quarters into my parking box slot then walk up to the platform and wait.

Sometimes I get a cup of coffee and a newspaper. Other times I just plan on staring out the window as we make our way to downtown Chicago.  Either way, I'm going to enjoy the ride.

One of the things to do on my bucket list for 2014 is to ride the train for no reason.  Just show up at any station, any time of the day and spend a little money on myself for a little adventure.

Nothing dangerous, mind you.  Spontaneous.  That's when some of my best "God" encounters happen.

I've had encounters in the mountains of Colorado and near a river at a forest preserve.  On walking paths in Wisconsin and on my knees beside my bed.  In rice fields in Japan and in a hotel room in the Dominican Republic.  On the forest roads in Arizona and at the Hot Air Balloon Festival in New Mexico.

God shows up wherever we invite Him in.  He is not deterred by our physical location as much as He is by our spiritual willingness to let Him in.

He will knock; He will not bust down the door.
He will show you who He is; He will not tease you by withholding His identity.
He will give you what you ask;  He will not give what hurts you.

I think Jesus would have liked train rides.

The rumbling of a train, stopping to pick up riders who are traveling in the same direction.

Jesus would've told us about our final destination and invited us to join Him.

Social Anxiety

Last week I received an email from an old boss. He's someone I immensely respect.  He's a very godly man who lives his life (as close as he can) according to the bible.

It's been about eleven years since I've worked for him.  I was the one who ran his call center.  I did a bulk of the internal staffing, training and database development.  He taught me how to do the reporting and client relations.  We were a good team.

We worked together for several years.  Until my migraines caused me to stop working.  I was deeply saddened.  This was the best job, the best boss, the best co-workers and the best use of my skills and gifts I'd ever had.

Fast forward to last week.

Phil sent an email asking if we could meet so he could pick my brain about some call center concerns he was having at a new job.  He was now VP of Sales and Marketing of a Christian company we'd done some work for way back when.  I said, "Sure," and put up some boundaries so I'd feel safe.

I asked him to send some preliminary info so I could have a leg up before we met.  He sent it on Friday.  Over the weekend my head began to think about the three concerns.  I was forming a response but wasn't obsessing about it.

Last night I started to feel very anxious and stressed out.  I knew it was because of the meeting and feeling like I was back at work.  I had to look at what I was able to do and what I wasn't able to do.  I was afraid I wouldn't be able to say no if he wanted me to be a consultant.

It was then that I decided a few things:
1.  It's okay to cancel the face to face meeting.  I don't work for him.  I won't be in trouble.
2.  I can write out my ideas in an email and send it.
3.  I'm the only one who can take care of myself.  Saying "no" may not feel great at the time but it really is the best decision for my mental health.

And that's exactly what I did.  He appreciated my feedback, liked how I was direct like I've always been and was disappointed we couldn't meet.

That's okay.
I'm not responsible for another person's feelings about what I do for my self-care.
I honored Phil and I honored God by giving my best to what was placed in front of me.

You know what?
That's all God wants us to do.
To do the best we can with what He's given us.

Psalm 147:3

Sometimes I think my heart is never going to completely heal from all it has suffered.  The physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, verbal abuse, neglect, abandonment, withdrawal from people, adults I trusted abruptly walking out of my life and the list goes on.

I know in my intellect that when I gave my heart to Christ I gave him permission to heal it, change it and reside in it.  I guess I was hoping there would be ultimate healing.

In many ways, God and Jesus have healed a lot of the brokenness.  I'm no longer being abused, I have control over who I let into my life and for how long, I'm learning how to keep myself safe and I have just a smidge of self-blame remaining for what happened to me at the hands of an addict.

My wounds are being bound up in all sorts of ways.
I picture gauze bandages being wrapped around my head as my mind heals.
Maybe there's a big flat frozen pack resting on my chest to heal the burns of lies.
God placed a metal cage around my private areas so no one can get in.
I wear a flannel shirt that smells like my Dad and I'm okay with that.
I wear jeans and gym shoes.

I look normal on the outside.

That's how it always was.

The brokenness was covered up, never talked about, hidden beneath clothing.
The brokenness happened at night, in the anger, in the storm of alcoholism.
The brokenness became my cross to carry.
To protect my sisters and my Mom.
Sometimes I would get in between Mom and Dad.
Sometimes I would pick a fight with Dad just to get it over with.
In either case, I protected my family.

How old was I?  10-14
I knew I could take it.
He didn't scare me anymore.

I'd grown cold to his threats,  his eye to eye staring, him shoving me against the wall by my neck.
I had ice in my veins and knew one day I would punch him so hard he'd be knocked out cold on the floor.  I had thoughts of killing him.  Even though he's been dead for six years, when I think about stuff like this, I still want to kill him.

God's had a lot of wounds to bind up.
I'm glad He hasn't stopped yet.
I have a feeling I won't be completely healed
until I'm in heaven.

Today, I'm okay with that.

Letting God Decide

You know when you have the same clump of thoughts running through your head?  They're not obsessive or destructive but they resurface when a certain topic pops into your mind?  I've been having those kinds of thoughts about my book.

Specifically about the content.
More specifically about the depth of content.

So I stopped writing.

Not the best decision when you and the Holy Spirit have an encounter in the north woods of Wisconsin, on a serene and beautiful walking path, overlooking a large blue lake on a warm summer morning.

"Lord?" I ask.  "What do you want me to do with my life?"

"Amy, I want you to write your story to bring hope and healing to those who are suffering."

I stood there.
Silent.
For a few minutes.

That was a few years ago.

I started writing the book a year ago.  I was writing at a good pace.  It was chronological, as detailed as I could be and I feel very good about it.

Then my medication crashed.  For the last four months I've been dealing with depression and all other sorts of mental illness that are now correctly medicated.  It's time to get back in gear.

I started tracking my blog stats and they've been steadily increasing.  It's very humbling and a little exciting to see how many people visit my blog.  I pray it's helpful.

When I got sick about four weeks ago and couldn't write much, naturally the visitors to my blog took a nose dive.  What I didn't realize is how much I was relying on those numbers to keep me writing.

I lost my passion for storytelling.  It became a ball and chain instead of a craft I truly enjoy. My mind was focused on my performance and not on the calling God had placed in my heart.

I talked to God about it a couple of days ago.
He spoke to me again.

"Amy, your job is to do the writing.
 I'm responsible for the results."

Since then, I haven't checked the stats once.  I've been able to write freely and I started organizing my book so I can brainstorm how to approach it this season.

Letting God into these decisions is so much easier than trying to figure them out on my own.  He wants to help me, He wants to bless me and He doesn't want me to feel stressed out by it.

Equally, He wants me to do the work so I feel a sense of accomplishment.  He wants me to pace myself so I don't over do it and He wants me to get help from others so I don't carry the burden by myself.

When I do the work, God will bless it.

Weight Loss Discouraged

I'm feeling discouraged about my lack of weight loss.

I was transferring information from my 2013 calendar to this year's calendar.  Last year I kept track of my weight on a weekly basis.  I'm doing the same this year.

This time last year I weighed eight pounds less.  Not only have I gained eight pounds but somewhere along the line I made a decision not to lose any more weight.  Or did I?



So many times I've met or seen people who have gained a lot of weight due to mental wellness medications.  I struggle with medications working for short periods of time so changing them becomes a regular part of my treatment.  That messes with my metabolism.

I'm also forty-six years old.  My age plays a natural part in my metabolism beginning to slow down. If I'm not physically active, what I eat shows up on my body.

Having the right medications is essential - gaining some weight is a side effect.
I eat when I'm depressed and depression is my main mental illness.
My slower metabolism is predictable - changing how I eat and exercising can help lower my weight.

Here's the thing.
I'm tired.
I'm really tired.
I've been fat most of my life.

I'm incredibly unhappy with all this extra weight no matter where it came from.
I want to be thin, I really do.

I just wish it wasn't so hard.....
and slow.