Sometimes, I Guess There Just Aren't Enough Rocks

The movie, "Forrest Gump," remains one of my favorites.  It's about a young man who's mother teaches him that he is no different from anyone else even though the boy knows this isn't true.  His life is touched by remarkable encounters from having his legs straightened so that he could run, to serving in Vietnam, to being a shrimp boat captain to loving only one woman his entire life.

This scene in the movie is with that childhood friend that Forrest gave solace to.  He did not know the deep pain she lived in until this moment.  At the end, he sums it up perfectly.




Jenny's character speaks to a lot of us who were sexually abused by our Dad's.  Those memories are seared into our minds and they can flash up out of nowhere.  I find them startling.

The last couple of weeks (or maybe longer) I've been afraid to go to sleep.  I stay on the couch longer.  My dreams are more vivid.  Though they are not sexual abuse related they are about power or anger or another strong emotion.  My appetite is down.  I have too many headaches and a couple of migraines.  What does all of this mean?

Those are signals that the sexual abuse memories are being stirred up inside of me.  It's no surprise really now that I'm focusing on losing weight.  Truth is, there's no getting used to it's predictability. Just like being abused, even though you sense it coming, it's not for sure until it happens.

So the depression has gotten heavier.

My voice has gotten quieter.

My eating has gotten regulated.

My sleeping has gotten lighter.

My medication is taken twice a day.

My social life is picky.

My therapy is weekly.

My psychiatrist is monthly.

I do what I can, for as long as I can and then I rest.

I hope to add walking but that's like dragging an elephant.

Lord, I need you now.

Who Says Who You Are?

Have you ever gotten a message wrong?  Or been in a meeting and wrote down the wrong statistic/source?  Maybe you were relying on your notes from last year only to be told those were wrong, too?

That's only a small number of corrections I had one evening for two reports.  How did I feel?  Much differently than I used to.  I used to feel my face flush, my insides twist into knots, my voice shake as I continued to speak and I avoided eye contact with everyone in the room.  In a word, I lost my confidence.  In truth, I gave away my confidence.

This time was different.  Each time I read a statement, if it was corrected, I made eye contact with the person.  I nodded my head, said thank you then corrected my notes.  I did not give into fear nor did I put myself below the person who was correcting the information.  What changed?

I knew my disability played a part in my ability to listen and take notes.  I also knew most of the people in the room knew this about me.  Whether or not they believed me then or believed me now or ever believe me is not my problem.  The people who mattered knew of my disability.  To them, I did a great job.  To me, I did a great job.

Too many times and for too many years I let others be the measuring stick of my self-esteem.

What do they know?

Nothing.

God is the only opinion that matters.

But I have to have a personal relationship with Him.

That's the only way He can make a difference in my life.

I have to seek Him.

"And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him."   Hebrews 11:6

Do you have a personal relationship with God?  Start talking to Him and let Him know you'd like to get to know Him better.  Click on my Bible to the right on this screen and order one for yourself.  Ask God where He'd like you to begin learning about Him.

There's no wrong place to start.  Just get started.

Kind Love

Of all the experiences I've had in my life, none has been more precious to me as my tender relationship with Jesus.  Yes, the healing in my birth family is a second runner up, the birth of my nephew and each niece are third runner ups and even my own recovery and healing is a fourth runner up but Jesus will always be first.

Celebrating His birth on December 25th.
Palm Sunday starts March 29th.
Passover begins April 3rd.
Easter is April 5th.

I asked Jesus to forgive my sin and to live in my heart in March of 1988.  My life changed forever that day.  I felt the weight of my sin lift off my shoulders.  I had no idea what lay in store for me but I knew He would always be with me.  I would never be alone again.  At least not by my own accord.

Since that day I've had to face and fight many of my inner demons.  Only because of my faith have I been able to face and overcome them.  Only because I have chosen to fight instead of flee have I been able to continue to resist them.  Only because of the inner resolve to not get pulled back into destructive behavior have I been able to walk the narrow path of peace beyond all understanding.

That's what the God of the Bible promises us:

Philippians 4:7New International Version (NIV)7 " And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

I've always liked the sound of it.  Something so out of reach for so many years can finally be attainable in my little messed up world.  Something private - between God and I.  It doesn't rely on anyone else.  For that matter, it doesn't rely on me, either.  It's all about God - His perfect peace, given to someone like me, simply because...

He loves me.
He loves me unconditionally.
He loves me when I don't love him back.
He loves me without my being perfect.
He loves me when I'm angry at him.
He loves me when I'm quiet and don't speak.
He loves me when I walk away.
He loves me because He made me for fellowship with Him.
He loves me.

Where else can you find that kind of love?

A little over 2,000 years ago, Jesus was found guilty of blasphemy.
He claimed to be the Son of God.
He was scourged and imprisoned.  While imprisoned,
A crown of thorns was pressed into his head.
A bloodied man barely able to carry his cross,
He walked the road to Golgotha where he would hang with two thieves.
His mother and the disciple he loved following with the crowd.
Dropping the cross and falling under the weight of it, a soldier
Summoned a man in the crowd to help Jesus.  The man did not know Jesus.
Trudging along, falling, the other man helped Him.  We are told this man,
By the end of the journey, believed Jesus was the Messiah.
Reaching Golgotha Jesus dropped his cross.
Made to lay down upon it, one hand held down with a spike hammered through it,
He cried out in pain.  His mother and the disciple he loved cried.
The other hand unable to reach the hole, is pulled until a spike is hammered through.
More cries of pain cry out from Jesus' lips.  Then the feet and more cries of pain.
His mother and the disciple he loved look on with more helplessness and tears.

Could you do what Jesus did?  Could I?
That pain would have been too much for me to bear.
And yet, He bore that pain and more for you.

And for me.

If you haven't experienced the love God offers you through Jesus, talk to a friend whom you trust who has that relationship or use this website to try a local church in your area:
Willow Creek Association Churches

Boots for Sandals?

There are times when following Jesus is effortless.  I watch church eagerly, I'm reading my Bible anxiously (the good kind), I'm eating well balanced and my solitude is right on target.  I feel connected to God, to my soul, to my growth, to the good things in my life and all that's bad is manageable and not overcrowding me.

Life is good.

These are the times when I am wearing my sandals.

Let me explain.  Just a few moments ago I was thinking about the difference between the times I feel bogged down and the times I feel light in my spirit.  Both times I am walking with Jesus but one of them is definitely harder.  When I said the words "bogged down" I pictured the bog not far from my home.  It's a living, breathing patch of land, different from a swamp but still so cool to walk on.

When you grow up around the area where glaciers formed the hills, you have an appreciation later when you learn about God creating the Earth.  The only Bog left on the earth that does what a bog was created to do is less that twenty minutes from where I live.  This summer I'm going to go there again and see the wonders of what God made.

So what does that have to do with sandals?  It's the explorer in me.  Of all the vacations I've taken, every mountain climb has included a pair of hiking boots.  Rugged boots that stabilized my feet so that I wouldn't twist my ankle.  Sure footing on rocks and sand.  Hard jagged rubber that didn't slip on the boulders as I crossed over and slid down to the other side.  There's a certain weight to hiking boots that give me confidence that I have a good pair on my feet.  They fit my entire foot a certain way and when they're laced up they have a firm grip and won't let go.  

A sandal is much different.  My sandals have velcro across the top and behind my heel.  They, too, are sturdy, not at all floppy.  The top of my foot is exposed to some sun.  If it's too hot, I'll end up with a tanned foot outlining where the sandal was.  I will not hike in a sandal.  Even though the sandal is sturdy it is not designed to hike.  It doesn't hold my foot in place enough in rocky terrain nor does it cover the entire foot for complete protection from all the elements or insects.  I could easily trip with the sandal and if that happens at the wrong part of the trail, it could be curtains for me.

Jesus wore sandals as did the disciples.  Moses wore sandals.  God asked Moses to remove them in front of the burning bush.  I think it takes more faith to wear sandals in my life rather than boots.  Maybe boots can give me protection from the very bad stuff but I don't need them all the time.  I can wear sandals and enjoy a lighter life.  Enjoy a life like Jesus lived.  

Jesus was perfect but he did not have a perfect life.
He experienced ridicule, sadness, liars, betrayers, scoffers and abusers.
He didn't sin in any of it.

Trading in my boots for sandals.
I think it's worth a try.

Beyond the Physical Pain

The all familiar migraine that rolls around my head.  From my temples to the back of my neck then up into my forehead.  I close my eyes and rest my body hoping to find relief.  I pray to God but this time I'm abandoned like a thief.  

Those last words aren't true, I know that for sure.  Knocking on Heaven's door doesn't guarantee what I want - even a cure.  Heaven's gate is where my Savior lives with God, His Father, Divine.  It would be much better if I changed my attitude and accepted His will for mine.

Yes, the pain and the numbing in my head, they hurt and are bothersome something fierce.  The pain in my back reminds me standing up straight is a gift every time there's a pierce.  And when I see my Savior on the cross and think of the pain He endured???

I see a crown of thorns and nails like railroad spikes.  Could I have endured HIS pain?

So when I get on the soapbox in my head about how hard a physical life I've had.  All I have to do is look at the cross where Jesus hung.  His body was beaten bloody from a scourging he received.  His head had a crown of thorns pressed into it until it dripped blood.  He was forced to carry his own cross no matter how many times he fell under the weight of it.  He was whipped until he got up and was spat upon by onlookers who lined the road to Calvary.  At one point a man was told to help Jesus carry his cross.  We are not told much about this man but somewhere from point A to point B this man believed Jesus to be the Messiah.  Reaching Calvary with two other thieves, Jesus was made to lay down on the cross.  When each nail was pounded into his flesh he cried out in pain.  When his body was finished being nailed to the cross, it was pulled upright and landed with a thud into the hole in the ground and Jesus cried out in pain, again.

And then Jesus did something that I don't do often enough.

He looked beyond his pain, beyond his circumstances, beyond anything else that could have been a distraction.  Jesus had a mother.  Mary.  He knew Mary would need a son to look after her.  Someone he trusted to take his place.  Who better than the disciple he loved?  (John)

I'm ashamed to admit this.  When I'm in pain most of the time all I'm thinking about is me.  How do I get rid of the pain, how do I medicate the pain, what can I do to alleviate the pain and is there anything I can do to prevent the pain from recurring?

Those are great questions and are appropriate most of the time.  But then I have to ask myself this:  

Am I using the pain to get attention?

Am I using the pain as an excuse to get out of doing something?

Am I NOT telling anyone about the pain so that I don't get the medical care I need?

And then.....

Who can I reach out to that needs a little Jesus love?

Something to think about.