tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44316388397484176732024-03-13T13:42:29.878-07:00Renewing Ruined Cities"They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations." -Isaiah 61.4whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-66435884320907507302012-05-20T00:04:00.002-07:002012-05-20T00:04:42.580-07:00Taking Care<i>I haven't been here in so long, I forgot this was in my drafts waiting to be finished and published. I think I'll just finish it now...</i><br />
<br />
------------------------------------<br />
<br />
A year and a half ago I joined Weight Watchers. I've lost 20lbs so far....but it should've been more. And I say that not to be self-depricating, but because I'm admitting that I haven't been taking it very seriously. Most of the time, I'm not really trying to follow the program. It's super-difficult for me to keep a weight-loss program up high on the priority list. Is this any surprise, really? This, in fact, is the problem: I don't take care of myself and I'm not allowed to (says me). My kids are more important. My husband and his issues are more important. Taking care of my home-- that's my identity-- that's more important.<br />
<br />
But slowly, s l o w l y... I am learning to move myself up on that priority list, slowly I'm starting to see and believe how taking care of myself benefits my family.<br />
<br />
But what does that even mean? Again, slowly... I'm learning... I have two friends that come to mind who have asked me how that's going, or what I'm going to do this week to take time for "me" (note to self: let them in!).<br />
<br />
Sometimes when I am stressed, bored, overwhelmed, or whatever emotion I find painful, I start wanting to eat. It makes no sense to me: what will eating solve? Now that I'm thinking about it more I realize I'm not really even hungry...or am I? I don't know if I'd know hungry if it growled in my stomach. My brain says eat. My body says, "no thanks, I'm cool."<br />
<br />
Years ago, my mom sent me a series of books by <a href="http://geneenroth.com/index1.php">Geneen Roth</a>. I finally cracked one open, and in <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Feeding-Hungry-Heart-Experience-Compulsive/dp/0452270839">Feeding the Hungry Heart</a></i> I read this:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"Binges are purposeful acts, not demented journeys. They do not signify a lack of willpower or the inability to care for yourself. On the contrary, a binge can actually be <b>an urgent attempt to care for yourself when you feel uncared for</b>. Binges speak the voice of survival. They are protective mechanisms. Binges are signals that something is terribly wrong, that you are not giving yourself what you need-- either physically (with food) or emotionally (with intimacy, work, relationships). They are your last stand against deprivation."</i></blockquote>
When I read this, a lightbulb went on. I'm not sure why I couldn't admit it before, but suddenly I let myself recognize my true feelings: I feel uncared for.<br />
<br />
Sure, as the wife of a sex addict in full swing, you are uncared for. To the extreme, you might even be flat-out abused, physically, emotionally, spiritually, etc. But right now, at this point in my life, at the space I'm in where our marriage is fairly healthy and my own issues are bubbling to the surface, feeling uncared for happens in seemingly benign situations. If the kids are fighting and agitated when they're getting ready for school, and then we're late and I didn't have breakfast and someone's complaining about what's in their lunch and someone else forgot their jacket or shoes (yes, that has happened!) I suddenly can't get my mind off what I'm going to order when I am smiling at the barista in give-or-take 15 minutes. But I haven't had breakfast, where can I get a gluten-free pastry? Because I definitely deserve some elaborate pastry at this point. And now I'm driving half-way across town to "take care" of myself when I would've actually been better cared for by quickly going home, fixing a healthy breakfast and taking a bike ride with the baby. And doesn't my insanity sound just like a certain sex addict I know...?<br />
<br />
So now I'm on the lookout for times when I feel uncared for. I'm not sure what to do in those moments, but I know what NOT to do. That's a start.whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-2875106696990889292012-05-19T22:51:00.000-07:002012-05-19T22:51:25.851-07:00(tap-tap) Is this thing on? (A Warm-up)I don't think I even know how to blog anymore. How did I used to do this on a regular basis? Was I ignoring my family more? Getting less sleep? Because nowadays I feel like the end of the day comes and dang, I'm just ready for bed. It doesn't matter what time of the day it is, I feel guilty for being on the computer when I *should* be spending time with the kids or the husband, or cooking or cleaning or any number of chores. It's not like I can justify it by claiming an income... and I suppose I don't feel like I deserve simple recreational writing. I'm working on those layers, I'm working on it...<br />
<br />
Oh my gosh seriously?! A minute ago, my <b>whole family</b> was in our tiny bathroom, which is right next to my bedroom where I'm snuggled up in bed typing... they were all yelling out their individual weird noises as they bathed, pooped, brushed, texted and filmed the whole hullabaloo. We are all crazy. And I LOVE it. But alone-time is a difficult thing to come by. We don't have enough room for us in our little house. It is true, even though we hold our chins up high and make the best of it. Because it could be worse, it could always be worse. But if I'm going to be completely honest, I am praying for a larger space, so the kids can spread their wings a little, so there are two bathrooms for the 7 of us (it's like Greg vs. Marsha all the time!) and so there are are places to retreat around here. And now my ridiculous husband is singing Don't Worry Be Happy, which is always a cruel thing to do because anyone knows that song gets stuck in your head and won't leave for days.<br />
<br />
What I really want to write about is...... well, there is just so much. I never really know where to start.whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-21361009584921445502012-02-23T15:38:00.000-08:002012-02-23T15:38:41.413-08:00Fear of StorytellingJust another little reminder for future reference to help me with my fear of telling my story. I'm a little afraid of sharing the gory details, but mostly, I'm just trying to sort out what the heck has happened. I can't get alone enough to process these 37 years...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.potsc.blog/testimony/fear-of-storytelling">www.potsc.blog/testimony/fear-of-storytelling</a><br />
<br />whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-77869958437355514432012-01-30T23:35:00.000-08:002012-01-30T23:35:43.435-08:00Confession: I Have An Addiction Too<b>Confession:</b> I have an addiction too.<br />
<br />
I've been wanting for a while to introduce my own struggle with addiction to this blog, publicly taking note of the many ways my and my husband's symptoms overlap and how this helps us to understand and support each other, but I have much bigger priorities, like laundry and a toddler...<br />
<br />
(I seriously just had to break in the middle of that sentence to start a load of pee-pee sheets and do a puzzle.)<br />
<br />
Anyway... now that I'm here, writing it down for the world to see, I'm having a hard time deciding how to label my addiction. I am addicted to _______? In fact, I'm not sure that telling you I'm addicted to a particular one thing is going to paint an accurate picture of what I struggle with.<br />
<br />
More accurately,<b> I medicate.</b><br />
<br />
Mostly, I medicate with food. Sometimes with spending money. When it's money, it usually overlaps with food; I'm not racking up credit card debt on closets-full of clothes. We have an extremely tight cash-only budget, and if I can weasel out a dollar here and there from the gas or groceries, I don't save it for something that we need and can't afford, like new tires. I'll use it to "treat" myself with eating out or getting a coffee. And I won't tell. I don't want my kids to be jealous and think we eat out now and start begging me for stuff I have say no to. I don't want my husband to be disappointed that I'm using our precious dollars for something other than what it was allocated for, especially when it's me who's making such a big deal about sticking to the budget. And once I eat or drink it, the evidence is gone!<br />
<br />
The primary mindset of an addict is, "if you really knew me, you wouldn't love me," and I can't help but feel that now. I've only described a fraction of the sneakiness in my heart, and now I'm sure you think I'm a creep and a loser.<br />
<br />
Actually, that's just what<i> I'm</i> thinking. <i>You</i> are most likely excusing me, or thinking I'm ridiculous for making such a big deal over a cup of coffee. Sure, there are a bunch of reasons why I deserve a latte once in a while, or why it should be okay to let someone else whip me up some Pad Thai when doing all that work at home will go largely unappreciated. But it's when I'm stealing from our budget to medicate stress at the expense of my family's overall well-being, and the fact that I'm intentionally keeping it a secret that my motives turn the event into something destructive. And I do this more often than I'm aware of because I largely tune-out my motives so I can get away with it. At least, I think that's what I do...<br />
<br />
But I'm working on it. Slowly, over this past year or so, I've been trying to cut through the haze of my own medicated state to see and understand what the heck is going on with me. There are so many layers! Physically, emotionally, spiritually... and I'd love to hash some of those things out here.<br />
<br />
I am really loving being married a recovering addict these days....I'm in good company :)whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-38587640517396518312012-01-30T12:55:00.000-08:002012-01-30T12:55:05.746-08:00Infinite Possibilities...But What Is Mine?My life experiences have taught me that every woman's pregnancy experience is different, not only from other women's experiences, but from her own different experiences. No two pregnancies or births are completely alike.<br />
<br />
In the same way, no two people have the same relationship with God. Now think of all the people God knows, and it's incomprehensible that He doesn't start to treat us all alike in some ways. I feel stretched to the max getting to know my husband and five kids. Not to mention all the "friends" I have on Facebook (annnnd, I'm kidding). But God has made us all so unique, that the ways in which he relates to us are <i>infinitely</i> unique. Although most of us like to enjoy affinity with one another, I try to be cautious not to project my own preferences or experiences onto others. As more grey hairs twang out of the top of my head (which I infer to mean I'm growing wiser) I opinionate less and listen more...and I am amazed at our creative God and the depth of his love for us. I'll notice that he loves someone else in a completely different way than he is loving me, much like how I relate to my own children. I can be jealous of how He is loving another, or maybe just glad for them, because that's not what would float my boat. It drives me crazy to see people rolling their eyes at a mother's maternity choices, or telling someone what God wants them to do, as if in their limited frame of reference, they've become all-knowing.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I don't want to admit it, but marriages are all different, too. There are some basic ideas, but how that plays out for each person is infinitely unique. I recently heard <a href="http://ballard.marshillchurch.org/pastors/">Bill Clem of Mars Hill Ballard</a> say this:<br />
<blockquote>
<i>"What I understood about marriage, before I got remarried, was that I could be a good husband by being a biblical husband. But if you have children...you start understanding you can love them, but there really is a difference and that you can't just generically be "dad" or generically be "mom" to all [five]. That there's a way that you have to love each person in a unique way. That becomes the assignment in marriage. It isn't to be a generic biblical spouse, but it is to be a biblical spouse who is<b> tailor-shaping that love to your spouse</b>, and that they tailor themselves to express a biblical love to you and that's what makes it <b>marriage</b> instead of simply fellowship."</i></blockquote>
The reason I don't want to admit this is because I am married to an addict. I want to squeeze my marriage into the boundaries of another marriage, so I can somehow extract more of the romantic ideals that other marriages seem to have more of. I want to be experiencing what I regard as cohesive marriage where we're both equally contributing to the relationship (picture me doing the Robot here). In our relationship it seems like we are both contributing to the healing of the addict, and a very unequal piece of care comes my way. This may or may not be true, and this may or may not be something I have control over; I haven't completely figured it out yet. On many good days, I'm leaning hard into friends and my <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah+54:5&version=NIV">Redeemer Husband</a> to keep my heart from exploding with need.<br />
<br />
Twice this week I've heard Philippians 2--<br />
<blockquote>
<i>In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who,being in very nature God, didn't consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death-- even death on a cross! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(NIV)</span></i></blockquote>
Wow. If Jesus was equal to God and used this status to serve others with to-the-death humility, then how about this: I am unequivocally loved, accepted and provided for by God, so I have the ability to use this to serve others with to-the-death humility. <i>Obedience....the very nature of a servant....tailor-shaping that love to your spouse.... </i>It all fits together, and it serves me well to keep asking...<b><i> how?</i></b>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-22306300855624833692011-12-01T12:49:00.001-08:002011-12-02T00:47:45.867-08:00"Thanks a lot" and also, ThanksgivingJust before Thanksgiving, a friend of mine called to ask if I could fill in for her capricious nanny until Christmas break, while they look for a more permanent replacement. I said sure! I always want to help a friend; I could use a paying gig.<br />
<br />
Sunday after Thanksgiving, we made our budget for December, proud of the success of November's frugal, cash-only budgeting and laid December on the altar for the holes that paychecks won't fill, knowing God is always providing for us in crazy ways. And this doesn't even take Christmas Consumerism into consideration...just the basics. Maybe a little less than the basics, but we're alright.<br />
<br />
Monday morning comes too early, but there I am, with my own toddler in tow, ready to serve. My friend answers the door, gaunt and slouched, eyes drooping, barely standing, barely breathing.<br />
<br />
"Are you okay?" I quickly begin to realize something is very wrong.<br />
<br />
No, she is not. Her husband has left her. He told her--on Thanksgiving-- that he wanted out of their almost-20-year marriage, and then sat down with their three kids to feast on the meal she'd been cooking all day, while she went to an out-of-town friend's house to crumble into a pile of rubble, a ruined city. Alone.<br />
<br />
My friend is the heartbroken, heart of ashes, languid spirit. Mourning has it's place and I try not to bombard her with messages of hope, and I do my best to know the pain with her, share hugs and tears and to be hands and feet in her home for what seems the trivial daily grind next to remembering to breathe.<br />
<br />
I am feeling disappointed (understatement) in yet another spouse giving up, making a conscious choice to be discontent and withdrawing from relationship, instead of playing through. NEWSFLASH: <b>there is no perfect relationship</b>. You will <i>never</i> find that person who never bugs you, whom you have everything in common with forever. REALLY-- You want your life to look like a sit-com, with strings of disposable relationships based on your own comfort and entertainment? Life is not like TV and movies, duh! This guy says he's "not leaving the kids" but what kind of dad will he be if he's just in relationship for convenience? I have a 12-year old know-it-all daughter battling to the death of wills every day and let me tell you, it's not comfortable, entertaining or convenient in the least! There are days when I look at my husband and wonder what alien has taken his place and I'm horrified that I'm set up to grow old with this dork... but I play through and things iron out. God is always moving, we are always growing, there are ups and downs. This stuff requires grace and patience and second chances over and over.<br />
<br />
Dude: <i>you are leaving your kids by leaving your relationship with the wife of your youth</i>. And they will probably know it before you do.<br />
<br />
This guy has a problem, and I feel sorry for him, too. He's totally unhappy, and has been for a while and I think it has little if anything to do with his wife. I am just sick of this magical thinking. I am sick of the struggle with it in my own brain. It's an evil lie. But I am really sick of watching my friends and their children suffer the fallout. It might be "normal" but it is <i>not</i> okay. STOP ABANDONING EACH OTHER. That's what I'd spray-paint on a stop sign if I could.<br />
<br />
But this is not the only thing I wanted to write about. Off the tirade, back to our budget.<br />
<br />
Now I don't think my friend here is walking with the Lord. I think that is a thing of the distant past for her (we met through a church group). But little does she know it, God is using her. The money she set aside to pay her nanny is now going to fill in the holes in our budget! We might be able to pay all the bills! Buy the food we need (the end of the month is always slim pickins around here)! Maybe fill some Christmas stockings! What a blessing, albeit a mixed bag of emotions...God works all things, you know? It's just weird, maybe enlightening to be on the other side of this.<br />
<br />
The other thing is that being able to be there, present for my friend in this dark night of hers is a gift of redemption for me. It gives the dark times I've been through purpose. It wasn't all for nothing. Now I get to be, once more, <a href="http://renewingruinedcities.blogspot.com/2008/10/you-are-grace-to-brokenhearted.html">Grace to the Brokenhearted</a>. And I know this is only one small way God will redeem my own Ruined City. Like a giant oak next to a sprouting acorn, the evidence of God's grace in my life is so very apparent. It's been a while since I read the manifesto of that first year when truth and recovery began, the <i>Year of His Favor</i>, so I'm reading it aloud to you now. My story is in here:<br />
<br />
<h4 style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">
Isaiah 61<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> (the message)</span></h4>
<h5 class="passage-header" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
Announce Freedom to All Captives</h5>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> </span><sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-8010" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top;">1-7</sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> The Spirit of God, the Master, is on me because God anointed me.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">He sent me to preach good news to the poor, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> heal the heartbroken,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Announce freedom to all captives, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> pardon all prisoners.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">God sent me to announce the year of his grace— </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> a celebration of God's destruction of our enemies— </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> and to comfort all who mourn,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">To care for the needs of all who mourn in Zion, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> give them bouquets of roses instead of ashes,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Messages of joy instead of news of doom, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> a praising heart instead of a languid spirit.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Rename them "Oaks of Righteousness" </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> planted by God to display his glory.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">They'll rebuild the old ruins, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> raise a new city out of the wreckage.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">They'll start over on the ruined cities, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> take the rubble left behind and make it new.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">You'll hire outsiders to herd your flocks </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> and foreigners to work your fields,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">But you'll have the title "Priests of God," </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> honored as ministers of our God.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">You'll feast on the bounty of nations, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> you'll bask in their glory.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Because you got a double dose of trouble </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> and more than your share of contempt,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Your inheritance in the land will be doubled </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"> and your joy go on forever.</span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-8011" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top;">8-9</sup>"Because I, God, love fair dealing<br />
and hate thievery and crime,<br />
I'll pay your wages on time and in full,<br />
and establish my eternal covenant with you.<br />
Your descendants will become well-known all over.<br />
Your children in foreign countries<br />
Will be recognized at once<br />
as the people I have blessed."</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Charis SIL', charis, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">
<sup class="versenum" id="en-MSG-8012" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: text-top;">10-11</sup>I will sing for joy in God,<br />
explode in praise from deep in my soul!<br />
He dressed me up in a suit of salvation,<br />
he outfitted me in a robe of righteousness,<br />
As a bridegroom who puts on a tuxedo<br />
and a bride a jeweled tiara.<br />
For as the earth bursts with spring wildflowers,<br />
and as a garden cascades with blossoms,<br />
So the Master, God, brings righteousness into full bloom<br />
and puts praise on display before the nations.</div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-5837597037787269782011-09-21T23:11:00.000-07:002011-09-21T23:11:48.449-07:00On Being Attracted vs Being in Love<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">On Sunday we were discussing Jacob,</span> who stole his brother's blessing and then ran into the desert to hide. His reverence to God is <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis%2028.20&version=NIV">conditional</a>, he brings chaos and jealous, <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis+30&version=NIV">adulterous baby-making</a> to his unhappy wives ("What? You want me to just have sex with your servants? Gee, okay, if you insist..."). What a mess! As a husband and a servant of God, he's kind of a wuss. Jacob is not turning out to be a very attractive man in my opinion.<br />
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But still... God has a plan. Jacob's been <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis%2027.27-29&version=NIV">blessed</a>, and God is moving forward with it. As over-dramatic as his response seems, Jacob has an <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Genesis%2028.10-20&version=NIV">encounter with God</a> and proclaims, "Surely, the Lord is in this place!" In the middle of nowhere, God meets this most undeserving man with grace and mercy.<br />
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<b>These lives in the bible,</b> they are all examples of the <i>stuff</i> we live too, and the stories all point to Jesus and the grace and mercy he gave to the undeserving.<br />
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And I'm realizing that I don't have to always be <i>attracted</i> to my husband. I just have to always be<b> in love with my ever-faithful God.</b> He has a plan, He's doing it. And the purpose, never forget, is for my story to point to Jesus, and the immeasurable grace and mercy he demonstrated to me (undeserving) on the cross.<br />
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So my marriage? <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Surely God is in this place.</span> I just need to be looking for Him.whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-883790950821473302011-09-21T00:04:00.000-07:002011-09-21T00:04:33.274-07:00Hoping...in what, exactly?<div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>He calls me, excited at spending more time with one of "his guys", getting to share more of our story.</b><i> "And it's encouraging people!"</i> He is clearly smiling on the other end of the connection. Today, at this moment, he is having a good day.</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But. I am <i>not</i> feeling encouraged. In fact, I am increasingly losing hope.</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am feeling the weight of a string of little betrayals, little slips, little character flaws coming to the surface. Lately, he has not been fighting like a warrior; in fact, he reminds me of a teenager who doesn't want to do his homework, whining and procrastinating and... failing the Test.</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'll be straight with you, it turns me off. Mighty warrior, fighting for God, fighting for me... now that's sexy! Lazy, acne-ridden teenager? Not so much.</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b>My hope comes into question, then.</b> Am I just a loony, hanging on to this? Should I be kicking myself in the rear for placing just a tiny bit of hope in having a husband who loves me and fights for me, who honors God and raises his children with intentionality and fervor? He <i>seemed</i> like he was on his way to maturity, one of the strongest men I know, to get this far. He has fought through so many obstacles....</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But is it all just there, under the surface, like cancer cells, waiting to spring up and kill us off? How much of remission is his will to survive, and how much is still generations of sin, hidden, clinging on?</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">What am I hoping for, anyway?</span></b></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Am I hoping that he will grow into a husband who loves me and our kids with his subservience to God?</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Am I hoping that we just somehow stop passing on the majority (if not all) the psycho strongholds we brought into marriage?</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Am I hoping that I will manage to honor my Father God with my own heart's intentions, whatever may come of my husband? That's a hard one...because how do you explain it to the kids: all the subtle ramifications of his sin that affect their lives: lost jobs, parents not being on the same page, his subtle isolation from them and from mommy. When they ask the questions and I know the answer, and I have to do something I rarely do: not trust them with the truth. What about all that?</span></div><blockquote style="font-weight: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">We lay our hope, full and tender, into the depths of Him and wait in hope for God to resurrect something good. Good always necessitates long waiting.</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1578993279"> </a><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/09/when-its-hard-to-still-keep-on-hoping/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+HolyExperience+%28Holy+Experience%29&utm_content=Google+Feedfetcher">--Ann Voskamp</a></span></i></blockquote><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I have to teach them that God is trustworthy. That we can wait in hope for God because he is doing a good thing...we just have to wait. Maybe even generations. They might have to wait too, not ever seeing what we all want to see: Daddy choose God and Mommy over medicating his discomfort. Daddy finding his identity in God, trusting the process, fighting through pain like a warrior who has a legacy to protect, a King to serve!</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I don't know how I'll explain those awkward, painful things. I have to hope that God will meet me in those moments too. I have to hope that God is resurrecting something good in me, and consequently, in my children. Not only in spite of my addict husband, but--I'll admit it--in spite of...me.</span></div><div style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i242.photobucket.com/albums/ff162/annvoskamp/subalbumone/walkwithhimwednesdays2-1.jpg" /></a></span></div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-57571954900301677832011-08-22T09:25:00.000-07:002011-08-22T09:48:38.097-07:00Remembering the PromiseMany times, in order to keep perspective on what addiction recovery is all about, I think of myself as being married to someone with a medical condition. For instance, if my husband, whom I love dearly and have committed my life to-- in sickness and in health-- had had a stroke, I wouldn't have up and left him saying, <i>"I didn't sign up for this! Hmph!"</i> While stroke and addiction are very different, strokes are debilitating, unfair and therefore a kind of painful betrayal, and while you will never be the person you were before, it is often possible to recover almost completely with <i>years</i> of patient, hard work. It would be heartbreaking and immeasurably difficult, but if I made that choice to stay, I would have to remember that <i>this</i> is the life I'd chosen to take on. And the person you become as a result of the struggle and fight to recover might even be a person you like better anyway.<br />
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This last week we had a situation. A friend invited the kids and I to an overnight at a beach house with her family. One of my first thoughts, admittedly, was that I can't stay trapped at home forever by my husband's "problem"... aaaand things have been feeling more "normal" lately so we should be fine-see-you-on-the-flip-side-bye-bye. He went to work, I went to the beach, end of story.<br />
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If only.<br />
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I have signed up to be the main helper of a man with a debilitating disease, and I just left him for a weekend without preparing, without making a plan for his care in my absence. Loneliness swept in with full force and before he knew what was happening, he was slipping.<br />
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I'm not saying it's my fault, or that he's not responsible for his own choices and actions. But both of us have a longing to be "normal" (whatever that means), to have a break from the arduous work of recovery. <b>Sometimes, when the work has become a normal part of life and everyone looks healthy, it's easy to forget that we are healthy <i>because</i> we are doing that hard work.</b> If you throw something different into the day, you have to compensate by changing your recovery plan, or "changing your meds" as I like to say. We should have made a <i>Relapse Prevention Plan*</i>. Being active in recovery affords us the freedom of being apart, or doing things that are otherwise triggers to us. So when loneliness comes pounding on the door, my husband would be prepared to answer. And I, instead of secretly worrying like a codependent, could enjoy my time at the beach more fully.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What the Locusts Have Eaten...</span><br />
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There have been years and years-- generations in our family history-- that have been eaten up by an army of locusts...<br />
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</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>What the locust swarm has left</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>the great locusts have eaten;</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>what the great locusts have left</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>the young locusts have eaten;</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>what the young locusts have left</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>other locusts have eaten.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Joel 1.4</span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">...and I forget that this isn't just a clinical disease that I can control and fix with educated, strategic choices. I forget that a promise has been given to me. I forget what my husband once said that I had to write on the wall because it was so profound it had to be our family mantra: <i style="font-weight: bold;">It's not just a fight to survive, we're serving God!</i> It's the promise; the promise is why we're doing this. I saw it again this morning, in Joel:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten--</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>the great locust and the young locust,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>the other locusts and the locust swarm--</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>my great army that I sent among you</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Joel 2.25</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Over and over again the Bible tells the same story: the people don't trust Him, they rebel and find their own way and end up leading themselves into destruction. God helps expediate their destruction because He is in a hurry for His people to return to Him. And then the promises: <i>I will repay you... you will have plenty... you will know... because I am faithful... never again will my people be shamed</i> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Joel+2&version=NIV">(2.27)</a></span>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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I am not JUST following doctor's orders. I am living out a promise! What the locusts have eaten, God is restoring...and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Joel%202:26&version=NIV">I will praise the name of the Lord my God, who has worked wonders for me!</a></span><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*Creating a <b>Relapse Prevention Plan </b>helps you to remain 'sober' and offers you a way to escape when tempted. I will work on posting a more detailed description of a Relapse Prevention Plan in the future.</span></i></div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-52139998768411763822011-08-14T14:58:00.000-07:002011-08-14T14:58:23.011-07:00Personal TransformationSomeday I want to explain to you the layers upon layers that are in <a href="http://www.imagodeicommunity.com/sunday/sermon-archive/personal-transformation/">this sermon</a>, and the reasons it absolutely rocked my world, and is still rocking my world today. The Word of God. Man... It does <b>not</b> come back void. A promise He gives you one day, will <i>still</i> be true and alive later. To look back on this sermon from -oh my goodness- FOUR years ago and to know how God has been keeping and has yet to fulfill even more His promise to transform us for His glory is nothing short of the most humbling, amazing realization. I know without a doubt, I am seen and loved by God, because of how much He cares about my story and what He can do with it.<br />
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Near the end of the sermon Rick (the pastor) talks about <i>a woman who sent him an email about her husband's adultery...</i> well, <b>that was me!</b> I hope you have time to <a href="http://www.imagodeicommunity.com/sunday/sermon-archive/personal-transformation/">give this a listen</a>.whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-79817484338136249012011-06-16T18:42:00.000-07:002011-07-11T00:15:11.986-07:00Dr. Ted Roberts on Sexual AddictionDr. Roberts used to be our pastor. We started going to his church because of his Pure Desire ministry, and it was a great first step toward healing both of us. It is at the same time refreshing and depressing to hear someone speak about sexual addiction with such understanding and knowledge. It has been a long and painful road to where we stand today (which I haven't told you, is pretty good) but it has been worth it. But it's heartbreaking how big the problem is, and how ill-equipped the church seems to be to love addicts through to recovery. I want to be better equipped to help from where I stand, but I'm overwhelmed at the thought of it. But one day at a time, right? I listen to God and He leads me where He needs me to go...<br />
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<iframe frameborder="0" height="220" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/24258304?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" width="400"></iframe><br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/24258304">Dr. Ted Roberts on Sexual Addiction (Full Interview)</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/catalyst">Catalyst</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Sometimes you feel like Hosea, and you're just trying to take care of Gomer. 'Cause addicts lie and they'll betray you and they'll stab you in the back. But I see guys coming out, and I see their marriages restored and...it's worth the pain. It's worth the pain." </span>--Dr. Ted Roberts, <a href="http://puredesire.org/Default.aspx">Pure Desire Ministries</a></blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-4014470481484748842011-03-06T21:59:00.000-08:002011-03-06T21:59:58.714-08:00On Hosea And Being Married To An Unfaithful SpouseFor future reference:<br />
<a href="http://www.soundofgrace.com/piper82/122682m.htm">http://www.soundofgrace.com/piper82/122682m.htm</a><br />
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Also, although I've always scoffed at romance novels, much less a <i>Christian </i>romance novel, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Redeeming-Love-Francine-Rivers/dp/1576738167">Redeeming Love</a> by Francine Rivers painted a touching and tangible picture for me of our <i>Great Romance</i> with God through the retelling of the biblical story of Hosea. The more I understand how faithless and adulterous I am with a God whose love for me is boundless, the more understanding and compassion I have for the man I married.whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-62492617768785522752011-02-09T12:23:00.000-08:002011-04-19T01:02:12.196-07:00PuddleI always intend to come here to write something long, polished and encouraging. But I think I need to succumb to the snippet. Today, all I have is this:<br />
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my heart is melting into my stomach<br />
a vacuum-pressure so heavy<br />
is left in its void<br />
a thick coagulation in my gut<br />
...griefwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-31060431505529727442010-06-02T23:11:00.000-07:002010-06-22T20:33:00.009-07:00Mix Tape :: Track One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7-6_Pw20B80/TAdPqln3mAI/AAAAAAAABP8/Z4Wc7YMjD5c/s1600/mixtape2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7-6_Pw20B80/TAdPqln3mAI/AAAAAAAABP8/Z4Wc7YMjD5c/s320/mixtape2.jpg" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;">If you are of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/High_Fidelity_(film)">High Fidelity</a> generation, you no doubt have always dreamed of your major crush making you the illustrious Mix Tape. Before we were dating, my husband was in a few garage bands, and had made a mix just for me (I think he'd had a little crush on me back then) of his band's performances, so as to include almost all the songs in their repertoire (this was per my request, but he had clearly spent quite some time on it). On the cover, he spelled out his name phonetically, in quotes, because everyone was always getting it wrong. I remember thinking, "I know how to say your name, silly!" Little did either of us know I would one day be the recipient of all the mispronounciations.</span><br /><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;">That was the closest he got to making me a true mix tape until 2006 when he ripped my heart to shreds and started his long difficult journey to recovery from addiction. This new one, he made during our 2-month separation...a compilation of songs that represented Us, and our struggle to figure out marriage in the midst of life's onerous trials. That's not how I imagined receiving my mix tape, to say the least; but I still can't listen to it without full-on crying. The songs ring truer and more deeply today than they did those long four years ago. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/missnita/398994567/in/photostream/"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Photo courtesy of Ani-Bee on Flikr</span></i></a></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><b>Track One :: Ginny Owens, </b><i><b>If You Want Me To</b></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">The pathway is broken and the signs are unclear</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">And I don't know the reason why you brought me here</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">But just because you love me the way that you do</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">I'm gonna walk through the valley if you want me to</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">'Cause I'm not who I was when I took my first step</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">And I'm clinging to the promise you're not through with me yet</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">So if all of these trials bring me closer to you</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">Then I will go through the fire if you want me to</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">It may not be the way I would've chosen</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">When you lead me through a world that is not my home</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">But you never said it would be easy</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">You only said I'd never go alone</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">So when the whole world turns against me and I'm all by myself</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">And I can't hear you answer my cries for help</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">I'll remember the suffering your love put you through</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">And I will go through the valley if you want me to</span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;">I remember after that first disclosure in May of 2000 feeling so confused, angry, disgusted, alone and in such a really dark place that I longed <b>deeply</b> for the Light. I remember listening to the car radio and not being able to change it from the cheesy Christian station, because anything that didn't fill my ears with pictures and words of pure hope and goodness was just too, too dark for me. My emotions were extremely fragile.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;">This is a song that was very popular at the time and it played every day. Every time I heard this song,<i> I chose to believe. </i> I made it my prayer. I just want to dissect a couple of lines real quick:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;">Heck yeah, <b>the pathway is broken<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">!</span></b> <b>The signs are unclear</b>? <i> It's like Dr. Seuss came in and redecorated my entire existence!</i> I no longer know the man I thought I grew up with, fell in love with, married and had babies with. Which way do I go? What do I do now? In those first months and years, choosing to believe that God loves me perfectly (and He's the only one that ever will) and that He's completely trustworthy--choosing to believe this--gave me the courage I needed to keep walking forward through this valley. There have been changes in elevation over the years, but it has been 10 years, and I'm still hiking an incline. I thank God that He has given me more and more evidence of the mountain top, like a sunrise...taking a decade to begin spreading over the peaks.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><b>I'm not who I was when I took my first step</b>... Thank God! But what does that mean? That now I can handle more painful things? Do I have the wisdom to deal with this pain? I didn't feel like it. At the very least, these lines spoke to how <i>I am changing still.</i> I am growing into the person God wants me to be, and this is an opportunity <i>within that promise</i> of God to myself.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><b>When you lead me through a world that's not my own</b>... This was a welcome reminder that this heartache is NOT okay, it is NOT what God wants for us, it is NOT normal. I wasn't meant for <i>this world</i>...this is a crappy waiting room. But I am not alone. This is friggin' hard, but I am never, never alone here.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;">The last stanza... I can relate to all of it. There have been times when I felt so utterly alone with no one who understood, and crying out to God, only to hear my own echo in a cold, dark room. I don't think God left me, but I think sometimes I wasn't ready to be moved forward, so God had me wait. In retrospect, I believe much of my pain in those early years was because of my fantasy marriage-skin being ripped off of my flesh. I didn't even realize that this <i>needed</i> to be done in order to understand <i>Truth</i> and to <i>live</i> in it. So selfish! I'm <b>sure</b> I loved myself much more than I loved my husband then. But there is <i>nothing</i> that I can experience that could be worse than what Jesus experienced on (and on the way to) the cross. If I believe what Jesus accomplished on Calvary <i>at all</i>, then I suppose I can <b>go through a valley</b> when I'm told to go through a valley.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;">In the following performance, Ginny has tweaked it a bit from the recorded version, and added a verse...I love it! She has a wonderful <a href="http://ginnyowens.com/about-ginny-owens/">story</a>, including how being blind has caused her challenges that she chose to <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">walk </span>through</i> with her Creator. </span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Arial;font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/1q8pWgDsv1E&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/1q8pWgDsv1E&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></span></span></div></div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-77842774857830235502010-03-27T00:29:00.000-07:002010-03-27T18:46:10.410-07:00Emoting Responsibly<span style="font-weight: bold;">I need to share my story.</span> It just burns on my fingertips. Enough with the doubting and overthinking and just get on with it.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I will be sleeping on the couch tonight.</span> And not because of the baby. The last few days have brought on a completely humbling experience and my head is taking it's sweet time to sort things out. There are so many angles to this one issue we're dealing with, I don't even want to describe it. But here is the part I own:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">At times I have been so bitter </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">about not being able to go to my husband for support and encouragement when I am discouraged, depressed or spiritually confused.</span> I understand that he is in recovery and sometimes barely keeping his own head above water as he sorts out the life that brought him to today. But I <span style="font-style: italic;">long</span> for him to be strong when I am weak, to hold me up when I feel like<span style="font-style: italic;"> I </span>am drowning! And maybe this is what husbands are supposed to do. I'm not even sure. But I know that to automatically expect this of him is wrong. If he does it, that's good. If I <span style="font-style: italic;">expect it</span>, that's wrong. Because addiction or no addiction, he is still a man and could be in any sort of mood, and possibly unprepared for my need of rescue. Only God stands firm as a refuge 100% of the time. I am realizing that I have been holding out hope for the one day that my husband will be equal to God and be ever ready and waiting for my emotional tsunamis. That is not called recovery. That is called unrealistic.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Even when I am hurting and emotional, I need to be consistent in my love for others.</span> Because I have been avoiding God in my attempt to wait patiently for my husband to reach divine status (how supportive of me!) I will fall recklessly into emotion until I cannot see past my own pain in those moments. If I am going to come to my husband for understanding, the mature thing is to make sure I'm not dragging with me things that are known triggers for him. I need to consider him, even when I am overcome with emotion. I need to remember that even when I am very emotional, I still have the capacity and responsibility to make choices that reflect love for God and others and even myself.<br /><blockquote>"Don't pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults— unless, of course, you want the same treatment. Don't condemn those who are down; that hardness can boomerang. Be easy on people; you'll find life a lot easier. Give away your life; you'll find life given back, but not merely given back—given back with bonus and blessing. Giving, not getting, is the way. Generosity begets generosity." <span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%206.37&version=MSG" style="font-style: italic;">Luke 6.37-38, The Message</a></span></blockquote><br />- - - - - -<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">There. I can agree with that. </span> If only you knew the tumultuous conversation that has been going on around this lesson for me! Feminism, entitlement, codependency, body image and a heaping dose of personal pride, some useless and hurtful gossip shared by the husband... there are a lot of lies swirling around in my head that we need to just lay to rest; they are so painful. And I think they are beside the point, just wind blustering around the steady words of the Father.<br /><blockquote>"We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!<br />"But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love." <span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=i%20cor%2013.12-13&version=MSG" style="font-style: italic;">I Cor. 13.12-13, The Message </a></span></blockquote><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=i%20cor%2013.12-13&version=MSG" style="font-style: italic;"></a></span>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-24525588530315672632009-09-22T23:47:00.000-07:002012-01-30T13:09:58.668-08:00MonsterNot that it needs explaining, but this song typifies what is going on inside the addict. It is seriously tragic.<br />
<br />
...But not fatal! Not hopeless. I love what you hear at the end of the video; the first step toward redemption from addiction. <span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Sir, we have a containment breach.... we lost 'em.... they're out in the open."</span></span> That part... is seriously beautiful.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%; font-weight: bold;">MONSTER</span><br />
<a href="http://www.skillet.com/enter.php"><span style="font-size: 85%;">by Skillet</span></a><br />
<script src="http://www.godtube.com/embed/source/7l6gwgnx.js?w=400&h=255&ap=true&sl=true&title=true" type="text/javascript">
</script><br />
<br />
The secret side of me, I never let you see<br />
I keep it caged but I can't control it<br />
So stay away from me, the beast is ugly<br />
I feel the rage and I just can't hold it<br />
<br />
It's scratching on the walls, in the closet, in the halls<br />
It comes awake and I can't control it<br />
Hiding under the bed, in my body, in my head<br />
Why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?<br />
<br />
I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin<br />
I must confess that I feel like a monster<br />
I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun<br />
I must confess that I feel like a monster<br />
<br />
I, I feel like a monster<br />
I, I feel like a monster<br />
<br />
My secret side I keep hid under lock and key<br />
I keep it caged but I can't control it<br />
'Cause if I let him out he'll tear me up, break me down<br />
Why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?<br />
<br />
I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin<br />
I must confess that I feel like a monster<br />
I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun<br />
I must confess that I feel like a monster<br />
<br />
I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin<br />
I must confess that I feel like a monster<br />
I, I feel like a monster<br />
I, I feel like a monster<br />
<br />
It's hiding in the dark, it's teeth are razor sharp<br />
There's no escape for me, it wants my soul, it wants my heart<br />
No one can hear me scream, maybe it's just a dream<br />
Maybe it's inside of me, stop this monster<br />
<br />
I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin<br />
I must confess that I feel like a monster<br />
I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun<br />
I must confess that I feel like a monster<br />
<br />
I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin<br />
I must confess that I feel like a monster<br />
I've gotta lose control, do something radical<br />
I must confess that I feel like a monster<br />
<br />
I, I feel like a monster<br />
I, I feel like a monster<br />
I, I feel like a monster<br />
I, I feel like a monsterwhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-11363131476713875722009-06-09T00:25:00.000-07:002009-06-09T00:39:39.247-07:00Prayer<a href="http://www.thejunkyswife.com/2009/05/prayer.html">This</a> is my prayer, and what I want my prayer to be. And I think this week it's time I tried S-Anon....<br /><br />I haven't been very real on my blog. One reason is that I have so much going on in my head and so little time to sort it out, much less write it down. The other is because I'm afraid of being judged; there, I said it. If I can't spit my thoughts out coherently, someone might get the wrong idea, which might have a variety of ramifications. I want to come to all the proper solutions before I write, so that every post can be this display of moral perfection. But when all I can see is sadness or anger or confusion, I write nothing. I can be really mean, and I don't want to be really mean publicly. I guess I'm afraid of anyone seeing me work it out, which is really sad to me because it's the "working it out" that holds the story.<br /><br />But then I remember the part where I'm rarely allowed to <span style="font-style: italic;">think</span> a complete thought, much less blog it, and I have to just forgive myself....whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-6935115408410905442009-04-16T22:18:00.000-07:002012-03-31T15:49:43.307-07:00What Is Meant, An Encouraging ThoughtI was watching <span style="font-style: italic;">Lord of the Rings (Fellowship of the Ring)</span> the other night and was rivited by this conversation between Gandalf and Frodo, after Frodo discoverd Gollum following them through the mines of Moria<span style="font-style: italic;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;"></span><br />
<blockquote>
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Gandalf:</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> He hates and loves the Ring, as he hates and loves himself. He will never be rid of his need for it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Frodo: </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">It's a pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Gandalf: </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Pity? It is pity that stayed Bilbo's hand! Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you<span style="font-weight: bold;"> give it to them, Frodo</span>? Do not be too eager to deal out death and judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill... before this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Frodo: </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 85%;">Gandalf: </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">meant</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> to find the Ring. In which case, you also were </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">meant</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> to have it. And that is an encouraging thought.</span></blockquote>
I'm not sure what I can make the Ring represent. Sometimes I think it's sin, or a treacherous desire, or addiction. Sometimes I think it's marriage. Either way, Gandalf's words are very profound to me. Like anyone who has been betrayed by their spouse, I have spent my share of thoughts wishing I had heeded all the warning signs and never married this dysfunctional man at all. Wishing I had loved myself just a little more back then, and had higher expectations of the man to whom I would promise my heart. Sometimes I dare to let into my mind the terrible, futile wish that I'd "killed" the marriage when I'd had the chance... at the fist disclosure of infidelity, back when we <span style="font-style: italic;">only</span> had two kids . They are sad, crushing wishes to wish.<br />
<br />
But there are other forces at work in this world besides the will of evil. I know we could argue for hours about predestination and whether or not I was <span style="font-style: italic;">meant</span> to marry my husband. I think that when we think of 'meant' we get the sense that there is some <span style="font-style: italic;">mind</span> authoring the intention, and it certainly wasn't our own mind. We wouldn't<span style="font-style: italic;"> mean</span> for betrayal and heartache to happen to ourselves! And if it wasn't our own mind, that means we are out of control, and who is this that intends for us such grief and sorrow?! Because one would only mean to have good, happy, pleasant things happen to oneself, and if another means something bad to happen, then that person is certainly evil! Right? Or...am I projecting my emotions onto the definition of <span style="font-style: italic;">meant</span>?<br />
<br />
If I was <span style="font-style: italic;">meant</span> to marry my husband as a part of a greater design by a God whom I firmly believe is good and loving, then the <span style="font-style: italic;">intention</span> was not to harm me. There is no emotional intention, just design. It is not hard for me to imagine how my persevering through this path I'm on could bring about numerous positive results. Historically and generationally, I am working almost from the ground up. On a quilt, I am the ugly brown patch which works beautifully into the big picture. You will gasp in awe when you finally stand back and see it as a whole design...and I am okay with that. It is encouraging to know that you are part of a design, and that everything that is happening to you is not just willy-nilly purposelessness. <b>The only thing I have to worry about is what to do with the time that is given to me.</b> Glorify my Maker, or not. Hate everyone around me, or be at peace. Because <span style="font-style: italic;">even the very wise cannot see all ends.</span> My heart tells me that before my story is over (including the stories of my children and grandchildren), my addict husband has more parts to play--for good or ill. And the pity I take on him may rule the fate of many. And the suckie thing about fate is that you cannot control whether it will bring you or your loved ones happiness or pain. NOT having pity will result in a different fate, but fate nonetheless. However, <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans%208:28;&version=31;">we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him</a>. And again, I am ok with that. There is freedom in that conclusion because the responsibility to deal out death and judgment has been lifted. It was an impossible ambition anyway.<br />
<br />
I have many more questions as to how I am to spend the time that is given to me, and what it should look like. But for right now I know that time should be spent sleeping, so I'll save those for another post...whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-71708050472820999992009-03-27T12:45:00.000-07:002009-03-28T08:48:26.013-07:00AmelioratingI have recently decided to step up into a social experience I formerly thought only reserved for the hoity-toity...I am joining a Book Club, and I'm really looking forward to it. The book we are reading is <a href="http://www.barbaraehrenreich.com/nickelanddimed.htm">Nickle and Dimed</a>, by Barbara Ehrenreich, and I think the book club might be a good way to ameliorate a story that is interesting, but a bit depressing.<br /><br />My reading was interrupted last night by a brief conversation with my husband about his job status, and when he left I finally shed some tears*, admitting that I felt worried about our financial future, and that I felt lonely and sad for being married to someone I don't feel like I connect to. When I was discovering the word <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/ameliorate">ameliorate</a> above, I came across this quote:<br /><blockquote style="font-style: italic;">In every human being there is a wish to ameliorate his own condition. --Macaulay.</blockquote> So many times I am baffled that this presupposed posture of "every human being" seems to be void in my husband....a characteristic of addicts. I am secretly thrilled when he looks in the mirror at his gut and claims to be unsatisfied with the pounds he's packed on in the last year at his new desk job. Maybe-- just maybe-- he will attempt some self-improvement!<br /><br />But alas, I should focus so much energy into my own self-improvement. And with that, I'm going to go run on the treadmill, take the kids somewhere fun, and stop eating rice crispies just for the texture.<br /><br />*<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >Recently my emotions wait in the wings like an impending food poisoning which leaves you lying awake in bed for the final signal to run to the toilet. I wish it would just come so I can hurl and get it over with, but I cannot simply <span style="font-weight: bold;">will</span> it to rise to the surface so I just feel miserable and try to ignore it until the bug takes it's course.</span>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-18495357223412877202009-03-23T01:00:00.000-07:002009-03-23T01:57:46.166-07:00Too Late...(?)I don't know how I stopped on the country station the other day (I'm not a fan of the country music) but I was surprised by this song that embodies how I'm feeling in my marriage right now.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NDgcVv0Gads&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NDgcVv0Gads&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />I honestly don't think my husband understands the gravity of betraying my trust so...many...times. I think because I'm not punishing him with anger and banishment right now, he actually thinks he's....I don't know how to put it. In the game? But I feel like those last lies eradicated the last remaining shred of hope I had for him, for a decent marriage, for a normal relationship where trust and respect abide.<br /><br />Of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Four_Loves">four loves</a>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">eros</span> has been completely destroyed, like the paper target at a carnival shooting booth, the ragged pieces scattered in the dirt. My husband stands holding the smoking rifle, not understanding what he has killed.<br /><br />He lays down more money.<br /><br />"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Tha's</span> the only target we had!" says the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">carnie</span>, as he shuts down the booth, taking down the sign, stocking up ammo on the shelf. The sun is setting, families are laughing, leaving with their cotton candy. Cars fire up and amble out of the bumpy parking field. My husband stands with a half-smile, feeling like he should put down the gun but not quite knowing why. "What about my prize?" he asks.<br /><br />"No prizes fer what you done. Park's closed. We done here. Come back <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">tomorrah</span>!" The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">carnie</span> grabs the rifle and lets down the awning, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">disappearing</span> from sight.<br /><br />My husband turns and the sun is gone. A piece of the target flutters past his boot. "No prize..." he mumbles. Park's closed. We're done here.whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-12469581682712828502009-03-08T16:28:00.000-07:002009-03-10T02:31:21.388-07:00My Body: Unadorned Clay Pot<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">"For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body."</span> </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" ><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Corinthians%204:6-11;&version=31;">(2 Corinthians 4.6-11)</a></span> <span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br />One of the discussion questions at the women's forum this weekend was, <span style="font-style: italic;">"In what ways have you seen beauty show up in pain?"</span> The obvious answer for me was childbirth. The birth of a child has got to be the most straight-forward, downright, most miraculous and wonderful result of pain on the planet. I can't think of anything that compares.<br /><br />Although a close second would be the worst hike I ever took: 6 miles straight up a mountain in Austria. There were blisters, tears, hunger, burning lungs, lots of spitting, willing the legs to move when I couldn't feel them anymore. But then when we got to the top of the range..... It left me speechless. Angels were singing. A cool breeze waft across my sweaty brow and I stood there shaking, mouth agape as before me in all directions were layers upon layers of mountain summits, their colors fading from the dirt and grass I stood on to smokey purple and fuchsia and gold as far as the eye could see. To this day, it was the most beautiful, serene thing I have ever laid eyes on. That view made the day's torturous trek not only worth it, but a victorious testimony of what my physical body was capable of. -Ha! I was nowhere <span style="font-style: italic;">near</span> dead! It was my <span style="font-style: italic;">spirit</span> that has a tendency to be weak and vulnerable; my attitude that is shaky. That's why <span style="font-style: italic;">I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me! <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Phil%204.13;&version=31;"><span style="font-size:85%;">(Phil. 4.13)</span></a><br /><br /></span><span>But t</span>he most significant, meaningful way I've seen beauty show up in pain has been in the way God has taken my broken, wounded, betrayed and sinful heart and saved it. Changed it. Renamed it. Redeemed it.<br /><br />In my previous post I explained this clay pot I live in. The skin I'm in. My shell. It's not my best feature. </span><span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>In living with an addict, I have been majorly stressed out, confused and uncertain, definitely abused, disrespected and taken advantage of, and my heart has been dealt repeated blows. But each pain I have felt has also been carried by Jesus on the cross (plus those of the rest of humanity). I believe that is what it means that we carry around in our body the death of Jesus.<br /><br />But Jesus didn't stay down. Jesus <span style="font-style: italic;">conquered</span> death! Jesus is alive and he is inside of me, as promised!</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> So, I may be an unadorned, clay pot<span style="font-style: italic;">....</span><span>but check out my strengths:<br /></span></span><ul><li><span style="font-size:100%;"><span> I am </span></span><span>at ease, <span class="theColor">composed</span>, emboldened, <span class="theColor">proud</span>, reassured, fixed, whole, connected <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">(not crushed!)</span></span></li><li><span> I have confidence, faith, cheerfulness, hapiness, hope, joy and trust <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">(not despair!)</span></span></li><li><span> I have been </span><span>adopted, cherished, <span class="theColor">defended</span>, maintained, <span class="theColor">supported</span> <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">(not abandoned!)</span></span></li><li><span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>I am intact, protected, restored...saved <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">(not destroyed!)</span></span><span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span> <span style="font-size:78%;"> </span><span style="font-size:78%;">(...and thank you, <a href="http://thesaurus.reference.com/browse/Jesus?qsrc=2890">thesaurus.com</a>!)</span><br /></li></ul>This is the life of Jesus, being revealed in my body...my clay pot...after being devastated by betrayal. There were times when I prayed for God to just take my life because the pain was so great. I remember late one night after a major disclosure, on an errand to the drug store in a sketchy part of town, thinking it wouldn't matter if I were raped and stabbed and left for dead, because I couldn't imagine a betrayal and pain worse than the one I'd just suffered.<br /><br />I'm telling you, if you can't remember anything about the Bible, if you know nothing else, remember this: Jesus carried the burden of the whole world's sins on the cross: He died in my place. And then rose from the dead. And is alive still. It's so simple! <span style="font-style: italic;">The pain of the whole world's betrayal</span> is worse than the pain and betrayal I have suffered, <span style="font-style: italic;">that's</span> what is worse. And because he lives, so can I.<br /><br />Beauty from pain!whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-89975840425275119102009-03-08T00:05:00.000-08:002009-06-19T01:51:30.942-07:00My Body: EnthralledToday I went to a forum for women at my church entitled "What is it to Have a Women's Body?" This is the blurb about it:<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-style: italic;">The female form often stands judged, critiqued, and condemned. How can our physicality be known, nurtured, and celebrated? Age, vigor, beauty... history, hurts, and illness. Join other women to examine our flesh and bones from all angles, and seek a sense of health and peace as you live in your own skin.</span></blockquote>I wish I had spoken up more. There were a few girls at my table who had enough things to say that filled up the time, but for me, the discussion questions were so loaded, I didn't know where I would start, or how much I could get out coherently before we were cut short by the next speaker. By the time I got up the nerve to start speaking, time was up. Maybe this is what "older and wiser" actually is: life has dealt you so much experience, you just don't know where to start. So you keep your mouth shut.<br /><br />Not that I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">older and wiser</span>. Yeah...sometimes I'm older, sometimes I'm not. Sometimes I find others are "none the wiser" and I know a whole world of things I wish I didn't. But let me remind myself that it's how much I let God use that to change me, and to see things from His perspective that qualifies me as "wiser".<br /><br />Another reason I didn't speak up was because I didn't know if my answers were 100% relevant to the forum. People were talking about back pain and surgeries, and all I could think about was how my crazy journey of a thousand betrayals has changed the way I view God and my body and my spirit, and how it is all intermingled. How I have been exposed and humiliated and vulnerable in front of strangers, naked before God in my little sewn-together fig leaves. How He has clothed me in a different skin, and given me contact lenses to see better.<br /><br />So...this is my do-over. I'll write it all out here, and it will hopefully make more sense in this context anyway. I'll start with the little souvenir the host of my table left us: a flowery bookmark with a verse on it that has, ironically, been a key part of my journey.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><blockquote><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"The king is enthralled by your beauty;</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">honor him, for he is your lord."</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-size:85%;">Ps. 45.11</span></span></blockquote><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></div>The use of "lord" there is also translated as "husband" and is the same word Sarah used for Abraham in Genesis. God is speaking to us as the bride of Christ; Psalm 45 is a wedding song. I can't remember when it was exactly, but a few years ago a friend of mine gave me that verse, printed out in a cheap silver frame that didn't match my decor at all. I remember thinking that I needed so desperately to believe those words, that I didn't care what they were written on. I put it up where I could see it every day, in the bathroom, where I was most critical of myself; next to the toothbrushes, so I couldn't ignore it. I resolved to read those words every day until I believed them, thanking God that it was true, confessing my disbelief.<br /><br />Oh, how I struggled with those words. Let's just start with beauty. Now, I <span style="font-style: italic;">knew</span> there's wasn't a single thing beautiful about me. Well, my eyes were ok. And sometimes I had a good hair day. But I was fat and lumpy after having four children, every inch of my skin had some blemish on it. I could go on and on. And as for inner beauty, I was angry, lazy, depressed, and perverted. One of the things that has grieved me the most has been the sexual immorality I adopted in order to rationalize the changes I saw in my husband. I wanted so badly to have his love and attention, I intuitively knew that demoralizing myself was the way to get it. But in the end, even that didn't work, and I was left feeling ugly to the core.<br /><br />And yet I knew I was a child of God. If He says I have beauty, there must be a shred of <span style="font-style: italic;">something</span> He is clinging to. After all, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">when God created man, he made him in the likeness of God.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >(Gen. 5.1)</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> I was sure I was <span style="font-style: italic;">nothing</span> like God...and I really couldn't wrap my mind around beauty being about anything other than the body. My husband had abandoned a relationship with my heart and soul</span> and was abusing his own, and all that was left to attract his attention was my body, and like I said, that was an ugly mess. I had fallen hook, line and sinker for every lie the culture tells about the woman's body, and was convinced I was pretty much the opposite of beauty. Every important man in my life had confirmed these lies as true, and I knew my mom believed them too. I'm pretty sure I can safely say I was at<span style="font-style: italic;"> zero hope</span> for ever posessing beauty, much less enthralling anyone with it.<br /><br />But here was God, telling me I had it, and that He was enthralled. <span style="font-style: italic;">Enthralled?</span> That's a pretty strong word. But then there's that second half of the verse: <span style="font-style: italic;">honor him, for he is your lord</span>. I know God doesn't lie. If He thinks something is beautiful, then it is. Even if I don't see it. And by trying to believe God's word-- even if I don't see how it's true-- I knew that would somehow be honoring him, as weak of an effort as that was.<br /><br />Eventually, these baby steps toward God brought me into the light, and God started to heal what was broken in my spirit. As I believed more and more that God loved me, I began to regard whatever little beauty I had as something God wanted me to honor Him with. If I used my body to appeal to a man who was living in darkness, that meant I had to go into that darkness myself. Contrasted with the enthralled gaze of my lord, I started to need my husband's distracted attention less and less, and I would slowly stop pursuing his approval...whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-74546983503212449022009-01-09T13:33:00.000-08:002009-01-10T18:11:23.219-08:00My Thesis StatementI think I am a perfectionist. And not the kind of perfectionist who gets things done immaculately, making others feel inadequate and sloppy. No, I'm the kind of perfectionist that is paralyzed, refusing to move forward until she sees a flawless path before her because she is so afraid to fail. It is easy to encourage--and even to expect--others (like my husband) to approach life with a bold, large faith, stepping forward in brave leadership. I have full confidence that God will honor those risk-takers with providence and protection. But when it comes to my own journey, I sometimes feel frozen, not sure where God's presence fits into the details. Like He's only good for the big stuff.<br /><br />Which is why I have had such a hard time sitting down and putting my thoughts into this blog.<br /><br />You see, my expectations are extremely high. I want to spit out my experience in order of how things happened, from start to finish. I want it to read like a book. In fact, when I'm done, I want it to be able to go straight to print; any editor I hire will read through it and say, "why'd you hire me?! It's perfect!"<br /><br />And of course, everything I write will be exactly what every person needs to hear. Everyone will relate, and millions will be changed by my wise words and touching exposition. Like none of it has been said before. Pshh.<br /><br />That's a huge burden to lay on myself.<br /><br />So I decided that I needed to write a thesis statement for this blog. I Googled "thesis" and got some help from some university, because I've never been good at understanding what the thesis is all about. And here's what I came up with:<br /><br />The question is: why am I writing this blog?<br /><br />The answer: <span style="font-weight: bold;">Because God has met me in such amazing ways as my husband recovers from his sex addiction, </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">I want to share my side of the journey </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">in the hopes of encouraging others who have experienced betrayal.<br /><br /></span>So there. I reserve the right to come back and modify it as needed. I'm serious about learning how to create a proper thesis statement, so if any of you have an editorial remark, by all means leave it!<br /><br />Now, in light of that thesis statement, I hereby proclaim that I am just going to start jotting down things as they come to me, no perfection necessary. There will be no chronological order. One day I'll post something that just happened, some posts will be something I wrote in my journal a long time ago. So if you're looking to identify with my journey in order to know when the pain and madness will end, you probably won't find what you're looking for. But I can tell you this: <span style="font-style: italic;">there is life after betrayal</span>. Be patient. Help and healing will find you.<br /><br />I hope you enjoy my story....thanks for reading!whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-90180939388867320452008-10-23T23:05:00.000-07:002008-10-24T01:16:28.780-07:00You Are Grace To the Brokenhearted<div style="text-align: left;" class="itembody snap_preview"> <p>My life has theme songs. That's all there is to it.</p><p>There was a time, at the beginning of our recovery, when I was probably legitimately depressed and wasn't doing anything about it yet. I wasn't exercising, I was sucking down coffee-which has proved to be a total depressant to me, and I was underestimating what being in the throes of a crisis really meant. Ignoring myself emotionally and spiritually, I might focus on everything physical around me ...which means, in every direction I look, I'm a failure. I'm hard-pressed to find a success on my long list of expectations for myself...except that my kids are cute, happy, smart and haven't managed to kill themselves yet, although the youngest one gives a daily go of it. <em><br /></em></p><p><em>"...Times are tough, the goin' rough, like there never was a Master Plan."</em></p><p>This crisis of discontentment and exhaustion sat patiently next to the recent one I'd gone through in my marriage, reminding me that there is hope within brokenness, a light at the end of the tunnel, if you will. </p><p>This is the song that encouraged me, in view of my struggles in my job as a stay-at-home mom, and crisis in general. Thank you, <a href="http://www.myspace.com/thelostdogsmusic" target="_new">Lost Dogs</a>, for preachin' it to me again and again...God speaks to me in Rockabilly.</p><blockquote dir="ltr" style="margin-right: 0px;"><p><strong><u>Blessing in Disguise-- Lost Dogs</u></strong></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">How often do you spot the angels</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Or feel the unseen hand?</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Most times are tough, the goin’ rough</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Like there never was a master plan</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Those steadfast doors don’t open</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">And you pray but you don’t understand</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">You’ve got to...</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Hold fast the hope that’s in you</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Don’t always trust your eyes</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Sometimes it takes a long time to see it as a </span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Blessing in disguise</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">We live upon this dark surface</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">And God, He moves upon the deep</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">What is concealed will be revealed</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">There is no promise He won’t keep</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Some are confused by the shadows</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">We’re awake now but we’re half asleep</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Hold fast the hope that’s in you</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Don’t always trust your eyes</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Sometimes it takes a long time to see it as a </span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Blessing in disguise</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><strong><i><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Sometimes the dark can move our hearts</span></span></i></strong></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><strong><i><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">To lean for the light of the Son</span></span></i></strong></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><strong><i><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">And our ways don’t become His ways</span></span></i></strong></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><strong><i><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Until we are undone</span></span></i></strong></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><strong><i><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></i></strong></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Hold fast the hope that’s in you</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Don’t always trust your eyes</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Sometimes it takes a long time to see it as a </span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">Blessing in disguise</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">And after you’ve been broken</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">You may not realize</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">That you are grace to the broken hearted</span></span></em></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em><span style=""><span style="font-size: 100%;">And a blessing—a blessing in disguise</span></span></em></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 100%;">Thank you, LORD, that you bind the brokenhearted, that you are renaming me an oak of righteousness, a planting of YOU, for the display of your splendor. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah%2061;&version=31;" target="_new">This is the year of the Lord's favor.</a></span></p></div>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4431638839748417673.post-61495285051848938412008-01-19T01:10:00.000-08:002008-10-23T22:15:05.580-07:00Restore My SoulHere's another song that has moved me since, well, at least the early 90's when I first heard it...mostly for the music which is impossible not to dance to...which in itself is impressive being a "Christian" song and all. But recently, as I heard the song again on my old Mix Tape, I heard the lyrics for the first time. Not that I really had never heard them before, but they were sorta poetic garbledy-gook to me before. Suddenly it was me in that picture, my fingers, my spirit, my soul in need of restoration...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Restore My Soul-- <a href="http://www.thechoir.net/">The Choir</a></span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I call to you with one lung exploded</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">from breathing the dust of the earth</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">with my tongue eroded</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">from licking the crust of the earth</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">a tear away from reconciled</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">a prayer away from whole</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">restore my soul...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I cry to you with two eardrums blistered</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">from laughing at pictures of night</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">with my vertebrae twisted</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">from dancing with creatures of night</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">a day away from sanctified</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">a breath away from whole</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">restore my soul...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I crawl to you with ten fingers smoking</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">from turning the pages of sin</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">with my spirit choking</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">from earning the wages of sin</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">a bridge away from justified</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">a step away from whole</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">restore my soul...</span><br /><br />Imagine crawling on blistered hands and bloody, dirty knees toward Jesus. You know that he's closer than he looks (a blurry image out of reach) because you can hear his voice, although it is Truth that merely whispers through the noisy crowds and clouds of lies and culture, history and codependency.<br /><br />Two extraordinary things happened as I drug my tattered soul toward the blurry image of Christ, leaving a trail of bloody mud as I went. The final thing is what I'll tell you first. I recognized one day my own image in the mirror, and it was more like the one I used to know: the one more innocent and clean. The blood was gone, and the wounds were...not open...and still tremendous scars- pretty ugly, gnarly scars, pink and fragile- but what's that? No pain. Even as I touched them, lightly at first--no pain! Of course, once in a while I will have to jump back in a sudden searing sting, like the scars are being meddled with by a tick or some huge, intrusive insect. But a swat away, and my mind is snapped back to that Truth that is all too real to me now, and the pain subsides. I rub gently the scars as the adrenaline melts. I sometimes whisper the name of Jesus over and over.<br /><br />The first extraordinary thing is that the closer I got to Jesus, the more in focus the blurry image became, the less it looked like what I thought Jesus was supposed to look like. Instead of this iconic, long-haired stranger-man in a <span style="font-style: italic;">robe</span> coming at me with arms open as if all I needed was a big hug, I saw: a woman with blonde hair who makes me feel like I still live in California, and there were tears in her eyes as she watches my Lover dice up my heart and lay it on the table like a tempting sushi display, and I could tell her heart was breaking right alongside mine as she served us both grace in a chocolate cake. I saw another woman with sad eyes of understanding and compassion watch me through plastic glasses, her token red lips telling me that because of Christ, I will survive this. And yet another woman, running alongside me on a treadmill, coaching me to work out the body and heal the soul, and I remember how we strengthened muscles, built up endurance and how my head cleared until I finally understood that Jesus actually loves me, just the way I am, with all this blood and dirt and brokenness. I saw the couple who counseled us, smiling with the certainty that of course we'll get through this, like they knew that we'd already won, and they were calling it like it was, showing us the truth and asking us what was stopping us from doing the hard thing. As the image got clearer I saw that it was actually countless babysitters and friends and neighbors, helping me with the everyday tasks of life, and believing in the future that I myself could not bring myself to believe in. He looked like all the people who said they'd stay by me until my heart was whole, promising that happy endings are possible, that you just have to take the risk and trust God with what 'happy' is going to look like, because you have never seen anything like <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> before.<br /><br />As Jesus came into focus I realized it wasn't one guy in a robe--it was a whole crowd of people, each of them carrying Christ's redemption in their own hearts, each of them an oak, a priest, a shepherd. As I approach this Jesus I am enveloped, and I am no longer crawling. They absorb my body and I absorb theirs, and I remember suddenly how my soul got to taking that nosedive into an empty pool...<br /><br />It was a long ladder up to the diving board. I didn't always realize where I was going or that I was still climbing, because there seemed to be so many people there with me. The whole <span style="font-style: italic;">world</span> seemed to be cheering me on, my Lover just rungs above me, just out of reach, and I needed to touch him. Finally at the top I'm so close, I can almost feel--<br /><br />I lunge out arms extended....into nothing...emptiness.<br /><br />My lungs explode and I can't breathe, I notice finally the eroded state of my tongue and I can't speak, the pain of my blistered eardrums <span style="font-style: italic;">(I can't hear God!)</span>, the twisting of my vertebrae. My fingers burn, blistered and smoking, and my spirit....chokes. <span style="font-style: italic;">What have I done, what have I become?</span><br /><br />Then the tears. Days and days of tears. And the prayers. Some are mine, many are not, because I just don't have the strength. Days go by, sometimes taking years just to pass hours, and I have to remember to breathe. So <span style="font-style: italic;">He</span> breathes on me, an immaculate CPR and my consciousness resumes... Those friends, those bodies making up the image of Christ, they have been busy building a bridge for me, and wholeness is on the other side. Before I can wonder if I have faith enough, I realize I've already been walking across the bridge, and my steps have brought me to justification, sanctification... and I am reconciled... <span style="font-style: italic;">to Jesus!</span> Reconciled to my Father. I plead with grateful tears for him to restore my soul and he tells me it has already been done, and I am <span style="font-style: italic;">whole</span>.<br /><br />And yes, I'll take that big hug now....<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Return, faithless people," declares the LORD, "for I am your husband. I will choose you...Then I will give you shepherds after my own heart, who will lead you with knowledge and understanding..."</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Jeremiah 3.14,15</span>whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12254948786144515945noreply@blogger.com1