Jesus Freak

So. Many. Bloggers. I read so many moving blogs and I want to tell you about every them but I don't know where to start. With this one I suppose. She had me hooked by the first sentence. Okay, it was really the second sentence...this quote- The criteria for coming to Jesus is weariness. Come overwhelmed with life. Come with your wandering mind. Come messy.” ~ Paul E. Miller, A Praying Life
Do I get that because I feel weary too, do you suppose? Do I feel it because my mind keeps wandering when I pray and I have to drag my wandering thoughts back again and again from where they've gone?? Go read her stuff for yourself and see if you don't get hooked on her blog too. Sheesh! Just what I need! Another blog for me to get hooked on! Maybe it's time for me to weed out the blogs that no longer satisfy, the ones that no longer post what it is I am supposed to be reading. The blogs that have lost their meaning for me. I am liking the strong Christian Women blogs that I have been reading as of late. Gives me a feeling of empowerment. Makes me feel stronger, more clear minded, more in tune with what it is that I am supposed to be doing with my life. I like how these women are on fire for Jesus and make no excuses. I like the sound of their voices being upraised in our society. I like how other people are listening to them and what they have to say about Christ and Christianity and the church. I like how they make me feel about myself; forgiven, redeemed, normal and whole. I am slowly learning to use my own voice. I am still timid and shy. Still fearful that as a Jesus Freak I will lose my friends and my credibility 'cuz I am now a "Bible Thumper". And isn't that an awful statement to make??

Let there be...... light shine

Many of the christian blogs that I read suggest that one should pick a word for the New Year. I know that it is already half way thru February and I have tried and failed to find a word that would best describe me or my dreams, desires, wants or needs for this new year. I've been trying so hard to focus on a God centered word (whatever that is) and I figured it would be easy and that I would know it when I heard it. For 2 and a half months I've been looking for a word that would help me on my journey through this season of my life. A word that could help me focus through my prayer time. A "go to" word that I could use whenever life got rough. A word that I could see or envision, or hold on to like a talisman. And I didn't want it to be a silly cliche either...like hope or joy or courage. Until I heard this song. And I knew that I could put off my choice no longer. I knew in the back of my brain that I'd seen these words multiple times in the past few weeks. I've seen either one or both of them referred to on other blogs, I'd heard them in songs, I've seen them both on a daily basis in print form on my calender above my laptop. I'd even heard them whispered to me from God himself.  I'd felt prompted to look for light somewhere like in the colors of sunrise at dawn or in a candles flame or the shine on the wet pavement or the warm light of sunshine on my face. I'd heard it, seen it and felt it but still I had refused to acknowledge where this prompt was coming from. Today I strongly feel that I am being nudged to make these my words for the new year. So here they are in all their symbolic glory...my words for 2013.....LIGHT SHINE. Light in all of it's forms. Sun light, candle light, God's light. Any type of light at all. Shine. The way a face can shine, eyes that shine, a Sun that shines. Anything that can and will and does illuminate the life that surrounds me, and makes me see the presence of God's light in my life.
GOD, your light floods my path....2 Samuel 22:29 MSG

Hot Lava

Menopause has not been kind to me. Right now, today, it's been going on for 5 years, although it does seem to be slowing down some here lately. Hot flashes for me used to be so bad, I would tell my family members that if I ever went missing, they were to look for a big pile of ash somewhere. Ever heard of those people that burst into flames while walking down the street?? You can read about that phenomena here.  I truly felt like I was about to burst into flames some days. Like I was roasting to death from the inside out. Felt like I had hot molten lava in my veins. My winter wardrobe was simply this -tank tops, flip flops and baggy sweat pants. I could barely wear jeans...they felt so restrictive! No socks or boots or turtle neck sweaters. No cable knitted anything. Nothing tight or hot or made from man-made fabric. Some days I tried to layer on clothing like maybe a T-shirt with a cardigan but that F-ing, hot as Hell sweater would be ripped off before the first hour was up! Now, I live in the upper Midwest if you recall, so I must have looked a little nutty in my Summer attire when it was January and snowing. (Nothing like announcing to the world that you are having a hot flash.) And I betcha I could have melted the snow in our driveway if I had simply walked down the middle of it. Memory lapses have also been particularly hard for me cuz I used to be able to remember everything, right down to the tiniest detail.
Exhaustion, painful joints(especially my knees and hands), dry skin and my fancy "lady parts", well, I won't tell ya the particulars but really it isn't a big deal anyway since my libidos been on vacation since then too. Weight gain...OMG...did I mention weight gain?! Oh, and before I forget to mention it....weight gain. My clothes didn't fit me anymore. And it's not like I was pigging out on junk food. Seemed like every week I added on 2 more pounds. And the weight gain went right to my pooch. And my fanny. And my thighs.
So here's my "dilemma".....For years my identity has been tied to my thinness. Thirty years ago when my husband and I were first married I was skinny. Real skinny, as in 105 pounds skinny. And I love, love, loved being a size 4 ! People would compliment me on my weight. They were shocked and amazed that I had given birth to 4 children and still wore a size 4. Twenty five years out of high school and I hadn't gained an ounce. They would ask me what my secret was and I would tell them that I must have been blessed with a good metabolism. I never exercised...not a day in my life. Ate what I wanted and never worried about getting that "spare tire" around my middle like other adults I knew. And if I'm being truly honest here, then I have to admit that back then I often compared myself to others and found them lacking in some way if they weren't as thin as me. What a jerk I am. And was. Like being skinny is some sort of contest that only skinny winners can win! Well, menopause put an end to that part of my life. I am no longer skinny. But the saddest part is that I no longer feel ok about who I am.  And I am surprised about that. Who said I wasn't ok once I got fat?? Whose voice is it that I hear in my head, telling me that I need to feel shame or that I need to hide out in my house or that I need to make up an excuse as to why I now weigh 145 pounds?? And why am I listening to that voice? I think I know whose voice it is. Haven't we all heard that nasty, unbelievably mean and cruel voice in our heads that says we aren't enough, or that we are stupid or fat or that no one wants to hear what you have to say anyway?? Or the voice that says I can't believe you said that or did that, can't believe you wore that or that you showed up here. The voice that says who do you think you are anyway,  nobody's listening to you, she won't remember you from high school anyway so don't bother waving to her. It's a voice that I need to stop listening to. It's the voice of the evil one who would like to keep me feeling bad about myself. The one who likes to see me fail. The one who likes it when I cry about being 35 pounds over weight. And this evil one is always trying to sabotage me. The other day my husband and I were out running errands. Driving down the main thoroughfare in our town, I see a fast food joint that has a sign very near to the edge of the roadway. It is these words on the sign that catch my eye.

                                              We now have

                                        Hot Molten Lava Cake

                                             Try some today

I say to my husband "See that Arby's sign? Just goes to show you that there is indeed evil in the world."
He says evil? What's evil about that?? "OMG!" I says to him. "Hot molten lava cake! In case you don't know what that is, it is warm, gooey, fudgey like sauce that pours from the inside of a piece of chocolate cake and then is topped with vanilla ice cream." I wanted to screech at him to STOP THE CAR! I knew....I just knew! that if I went in there I would have ordered me all sorts of fabulous things to eat that are sooo horribly bad for me. Beefy, cheesy, fried and icy carbonated things. Followed by that hot gooey molten lava cake (they refer to chocolate cake as devil's food cake for a reason).  I thought about eating that all the way home. Gosh, but it would have tasted good. And the evil one would have rejoiced. So glad that I didn't listen to that voice that told me it was ok to have lunch there. Small victory for me. Big victory for me actually. Please God, help me to not listen to that voice anymore when it comes to the rest of my life. Please help me to remember that I am 50 and fabulous and not really fat. Help me to some day feel like this. Amen.

....and the sky is white

I'm reading a great book titled Shelter me by Juliette Fay. About a young widow with 2 young children, a boy 5 and a girl not yet 1 year old. They are a family going thru a very rough patch in their lives. Trying to cope with a devastating amount of grief and also with new roles and responsibilities. At one point in this story, they are sleeping through the day due to their depression. All three of them in the same bed. It's late afternoon when the little boy gets up to look out the window. He crawls back into bed with his mom and he tells her "the sky is white". And right then I think to myself...when has the sky EVER been white? The line made me look up at the sky through my window and guess what ...the sky right then was white.  How could I have never in my entire life noticed that the sky can sometimes be white??? I know what a cloudy sky looks like, I know what an overcast sky looks like. I've seen gray skies, blue, black, green, pink, orange, peach, lavender, purple and even sunny skies. But never have I ever seen or noticed that the sky could indeed be white. Oh sure, the sky is white when it is snowing, but I always attributed that fact to the reflective power of the snow particles. And when the snow is thick and deep on the ground and still falling from the sky there is a whiteness outside that can make midnight look like the bright light of day. But I never would've called the color of the sky white. This surprised me and made me wonder what else have I been missing in life. What else have I not noticed with my eyes that do not see? What else am I being consumed with that would make me never think about or even notice a white sky? Why do I not look up? Maybe the better question here would be to ask myself why am I looking down? And what exactly am I looking at when I am looking down? Are my looking down eyes also failing to see or notice something?
I can also identify with the moms debilitating depression. I too have gone though my own rough patch....wanting to do nothing more than to sleep all day. Mine wasn't because my husband died. Mine was from a 6 month span of time where so many bad things happened that I am surprised I survived it. In hindsight, I believe that the good Lord was trying to show himself to me. I believe that He was trying desperately to get my attention. But I never looked up then either. To Him or at the sky. It was an awful and heartbreaking time in my life. I lost my job, my self esteem, my dog, my sister, my sanity. It's weird to wrap that up in a single sentence like that. All tidy and neat. One sentence that felt like a life sentence and sent me into oblivion. Thank you Jesus for rescuing me. Thank you for giving me ears to hear you with, since my eyes seem to be capable of missing certain things. Forgive me for not seeing or noticing every thing in this bright and beautiful world that you are trying to show me. Even white skies.

when a blog post reads like a prayer

Reading this blog post today..even the sparrow... and it reads like a prayer. Read it for yourself. That's all I've got to say.

Never say never

Holidays come and go, friends come and go, Blogs and bloggers come and go. That's just life, I guess. Always and forever moving forward. Always changing, always needing to change. With that being said..the same goes for me. I feel that my life will be better served if I try to write my thoughts into my journal pages instead of here on this blog page. I don't want to keep posting about Alanon and I haven't quite figured out what else I want to post about. Maybe it's time for me to move on; to find a different way to write about my life and how God is changing me. Never say never....I might be back. All depends on what I find to write about or whine about or whatev. You get my drift. Blessings to all. Thanks for stopping by. Thanks for reading these words.  Lolly

CT

My 3 children were in high school when the Columbine shooting happened. After that I worried about bad things happening to them until they were all out of high school. My husband was an active Fire Fighter when the Twin Towers fell in NYC. From then on I worried about him whenever he went to work, but in a different way than I had before. My daughter was a student at NIU when a shooting happened on that campus February 14th and for the next two years anxiety ruled her life as she continued her studies there. I learned after that to become more anxious myself. My son was a student at SIU when gun violence erupted at the Virginia Tech campus. He was 8 hours away from home and I worried about him every single day. Today, my daughter is a grade school teacher in Illinois. And I am worried again. We don't now nor have we ever lived in Colorado, New York, Dekalb IL, Virginia or Connecticut. But I gotta tell ya....it doesn't and didn't make me any less sad or grief stricken for other parents or any less afraid and anxious for my kids safety. This latest thing in Connecticut????  It proves to me that I am not a writer. I've read the posts of my favorite bloggers and have been rendered mute, awestruck, and moved to tears by the heartfelt emotion I've experienced coming from their souls. After I read this one, and this one, and then this one, I started crying and have yet to stop. I did not know any of those sweet little kids, but my heart feels broken just the same. Their words are exactly the words that are written on my heart and I didn't know how to put my own heart thoughts into written form. I am struggling to type out even this post. Maybe it's true what she says....maybe my silence is my way of grieving. Maybe I'm not supposed to put my thoughts to words. Maybe, for this, I am supposed to just feel the grief and process it a different way. My daughter? The one who was at the NIU campus?? She teaches 3rd grade. I can only imagine how she feels. I've talked with her of course, but still and all....it's gotta be difficult to  actually be in a classroom after something like this happens. She says that on Friday, when she heard the news of the shooting at lunch time, her kids were coming back in from lunch recess, and all she could do was stare at them. Their little 8 year old faces. And she told me that she just could not imagine anything like what happened in Connecticut happening in her own classroom.  She talked about their cute little innocent faces, all red cheeked with the cold as they came through the door of the classroom. She talked about the upcoming winter break and how the kids were already going stir crazy knowing that Christmas was only days away, how they were excited and loud, and  boisterous. She talked about her own fears of what she, herself would do in a situation like Sandy Hook. And both of us cried. For the loss of life of those little children. And then she kept crying because she's stressed and over scheduled. On Friday she and her husband are leaving for their honeymoon and she needs to pack and do laundry and she needs to lesson plan and grade report cards and clean her house and mail out Christmas cards. And I comforted this daughter of mine. Do what you can I tell her. Don't stress about cleaning the house or sending out those Christmas cards. Pack your bags and get ready to go on a much deserved vacation. On a much needed vacation. I don't think I helped her very much though. My daughter is a worrier. It's what she does. She learned from the best.