Truth you need this morning

https://youtu.be/V0eXYR65Z2w As You Find Me – Hillsong United

Some days, I just need to hear some things. I need the reminder. If your like me, you need it too. So here’s truth.

It’s difficult to see disappointment in the eyes looking back at you, but you’re not reflected there.

Don’t let someone else define you. You’re not them.

What you’re going through isn’t irrelevant. It’s so not.

Don’t discount small moments, painful moments, or difficult times.

Don’t discount the process. It’s real. Struggle has far greater value than we want to admit.

Fear has absolutely no value. Yet the cost eats away at self worth.

Remember this: There is no darkness in light. Fear can only hide in the shadows, and You don’t belong in the shadows.

Hear me now:

Verbal abuse is abuse. It’s a vocal attack filled with lies. It’s mentally destructive, physically destructive, relationally destructive, and soul destructive.

You are battle weary, not worthless. Get help. This is a fight you need to win.

Whoever told you that you’re unlovable- lied. Flat out lied to you.

You are loved with an all consuming love by a God who sees you, who knows you, who created you.

There’s an enemy of your soul, and he’s become transparent. His lies have become visible, clear, evident.

You are worth so much more. See the lies for what they are.

Lies are not, cannot, and never will be truth.

It’s time to wake up. It’s time to walk. You were made for this life. You were made to live. Perfectly designed. Perfectly crafted by a God who sees you. A God who knows you.

Take down the pictures. Those walls can’t hold you captive anymore. You know this to be true. It’s why you’re here. Right here. Right now.

You are so much more than you’ve ever believed.

God is so much more than you’ve ever believed. holier, greater, kinder, just, loving, forgiving, compassionate.

It is time for change, and you’re ready. You know this. Look how far you’ve come already.

You’re not the person you once were. You’re so much more.

So, get ready. And yes, there will still be difficult days. You’re going to need the handbook.

Dig deep into the Bible. The Message, the amplified version, NASB, NIV. Look for the letters. They’re written on the binding– Just like your name is written on the back of His hand– where He can see it everyday.

Last thing for now: When you leave this place, make sure you’ve walked so close to the fire, you smell like smoke. And bring someone out of the fire with you.

Words unwritten

https://youtu.be/VzGAYNKDyIU Redeemed – Big Daddy Weave

You have so much worth, so much value- I wish I could just tell you that.

You are not the lie you hear first thing every single day.

You are loved.

You are not the sum of your parts.

You’re amazing.

You are not that worthless, accused, victimized soul whispering your lack.

You are precious treasure.

You are not rejected, exposed, and vulnerable.

You are a gift.

You are not a lost cause, salvage, discarded.

You are worthy.

You are not a failure. The choices you’ve made, the mistakes you’ve made, they don’t have that much power.

You’re a believer.

Listen, I’m the voice of experience. I’ve heard, listened to, and been thoroughly decieved by the lie.

I’ve come out on the other side, and you know what I’ve learned?

I’ve learned that there is a God in Heaven, and despite what everyone says, He is good.

I’ve learned that I’m a warrior. I HAVE fallen, and that’s where I found my knees.

I’ve learned how to pray.

I’ve learned that I fight harder in struggle.

I’ve learned that my best self has been broken and healed.

I’ve learned that I don’t have to live as a vict-im. I’m a Vict-or.

I’ve learned that I gain by sharing and truth telling.

I’ve learned that light creates a shadow. That shadow reminds me that I’m not that person anymore. I’m free.

Your story isn’t finished. You’re only partially written. Turn the page. Meet the author. He’s not through writing.

God bless.

Warriors

Something about this day reminds me of a day a few years back. I drove the youngest, just sixteen at the time, to drama practice. We didn’t speak out our angry, hurting words, and a twenty minute drive felt like driving nails into our dying relationship.

We’d recently learned that our youngest had chosen drugs over life and a future.

That last sentence makes my bones ache.

We lived through that battle. We lived through five years of that horrific battle, and now we’re more than five years out.

Our youngest fought all the way back to life, and I’m grateful.

But those memories.

They’re like a stain I can’t remove in a garment I’ll never throw out.

The value of those lessons, the scars that remind us of battles won, the healing- all of them woven in like patterns in fabric.

I fight new battles now, and I find it’s much harder to fight just for myself. I wrap myself in worry and weary and somehow, forget battles won. Defeat becomes a name. But then, I get a reminder, a game changer.

Today, this song is the reminder, and the words are like putting on armor, reminding me I’m not alone. They’re weapons at the ready, clashing with the challenges faced. They’re life giving, breathing life back into the warrior, giving life and breath and strength for the fight today.

Memory verses from that battle for the loved child are dusted off and added for this battle weary soul. They’re re-breathed and re-lived and the they’re soul re-newing.

Here’s the song- because maybe you’re battle weary too. You’re not alone. Fight the the good fight.

We’re not defeated. This is how we fight our battles.

We are warriors on our knees.

Losing control isn’t all its cracked up to be

For the past five years, we’ve lived in a house I’ve hated, in a town I love, or at least I did love until we lived here.

I never saw myself as a controlling person. I’m a youngest child. Control was rarely given to me. But over the years, that lack of control quietly created an environment of need for what I could not grasp. I’ve been grasping and grabbing at control now for some fifty plus years.

The husband and I are soon to be moving from the unloved town. We’re leaving the coastal area of Texas and going north, deeper into the lakes area. Yet, despite all my desire to pack and move on, I’ve lacked the motivation. In fact, I’m fatigued by the very thought of moving.

As I’ve wrestled with the emotions tagged to uprooting our lives, I’ve had the out of body sensation of watching myself lose all sense of control. Then, in the middle of tonight’s anxiety filled wakefulness, it hit me. I need to submit. All my wrestling is wearing me out.

Living in the hated house, I’ve gone through five years of a process of change. I’ve struggled with integrity. I’ve confronted loyalty head on. Faithfulness took some real time to grow into. And I thought surrender might be my undoing.

Out of context, those are just words. In a frame, over the last five years, it seems words have defined the lessons I’ve been learning. Like chapter titles, I’ve watched words become attitudes, and I’ve seen attitudes become part of my daily mantra.

Now here we are with more change, and apparently, less control. I think a new list of words is coming, and by my best guess, we’re starting with submitting.

This has nothing to do with car crashes.

I think the thing that stills me, that slows my breathing, and catches me most off guard is when someone doesn’t absorb another’s emotional break.

How can we drive past a collision and feel nothing? Yet, at the same time, how do we stop, snap a Facebook moment, and drive away? Just drive away. A moment captured. We feel enough horror to document the moment, enough shock to confess we “had to share,” but not enough empathy to stay. Not enough compassion to help.

We do that. We document and drive away. We see the emotional break, gather the details, absorb information, and move on.

It’s easier. Life is too… Fill in the blank.

I’m broken. I’m full of my life and so full, I’m overweight. I no longer need.

When did this happen? Each day. One slowly on top of another. Shedding the excess life is just like shedding gluttonous pounds.

We’re broken as a society. We’ve lost our sense of compassion. We’ve lost our unity, our oneness, our sense of bring me your poor. Parties be damned. How do we find ourselves?

Maybe it starts with outrage. Maybe it starts with concern. Maybe with common sense. It’s time. It starts with each of one of us.

Why the table, the forgiveness, and the younger living

img_4383“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t tell my kids they can’t do something outside my home that they wouldn’t do in front of me. So, if they want to drink, they can drink in front of me first. If they want to try something like drugs, well, I hope they won’t… but if they do, they can try them at home first. That way, they won’t be so tempted to run off and do things away from home just because they can’t do that thing at home. You’ve got to give kids the chance to try stuff, or they’ll just try anyway, but without your knowledge.”

I’m paraphrasing a little. Words spoken aren’t always remembered word for word. But that’s the gist of the conversation.

I looked deep into the brave, young eyes of the speaker, a brand new guest in my home, and someone new and dear to my child. I sat listening as my parenting skills were challenged.

A year later, those words were still rubbing hard against the sore spot left from four years of trial by fire. Four years the beloved child lived addicted to drugs. We had been the parents who just said no. No to drinking. No to smoking. No to drugs. And while we were at it, no to tattoos too. For Heaven’s sake, just no to anything that might steal our beloved children from us.

I’ve lived as the child and the sister of the addicted. I’ve lived the years of secreting away my own addictions. And then, after all those years, I’d stood face to face with my own addiction in order to stand toe to toe with my child’s. I’ve run that race, fought that good fight, and walked out of the darkness of addiction. And I’m stronger for it.

Yet, here in my living room, sat this young soul face to face with me, angry, hurt, and implying accusation. Wanting to convey a message. I should have done things differently.

That evening, a little over a year ago now, I sat quietly, acknowledging the condemnation. The lecturer finished and I smiled, said something unmemorable, and the awkward conversation came to a stumbling end.

For most of the last year, that conversation swirled around me, questioning my parenting skills and numbering my mistakes. The early beginnings of a list of things I’d like to say to my kids began taking shape in my mind. In fact, if you look back from this post, the lists are found here in the pages. And there are more lists to come, but today, the fourth day of a new year, I wanted to say something–to myself. And maybe one day to the young soul.

You didn’t sit at the table.

That table is why I have this blog now, but I didn’t even know that myself until a cold day just this past December when your words came to mind again, loud, accusing, rattling around inside my brain. And that’s when the realization crept in slow, like a low fog rolling in, covering a multitude of hurt and angry regrets… You didn’t sit at the table.table blog pic

See, after those agonizing years of a loved child’s addiction, and while our loved child went through a year long program of addiction recovery, our family gathered around a table alongside others who were hurting just the same. We were those who currently or in the past had personally battled life controlling issues, or we loved someone who did. We shared the ache. We spoke honestly about the fear, the hurt, the anger, and the hate. We were honest about our pasts. We laid bare our souls, took off our masks, and bled out from our fractured hearts of pain and regret. We left everything at the table. Everything.

But you weren’t there. We didn’t know you then.

Even the loved child was in the recovery program miles and miles away and couldn’t join us at the table. So, no one’s told you the stories of the table. No one’s shared with you stories from the weeks of soul baring moms, dads, and almost grown children. So, for your year-old, bravely spoken words of admonition, young soul, I can only extend grace, because you don’t know about the table.

It’s been a month worth of days gathering forgiveness for the young soul. Love came from the ruins of my hurt and anger. Forgiveness is the gardener of blessings.

I’m slowly moving on from those years of reliving and questioning decisions we made in the child rearing years. I’ve quickly moved on from reckoning with a year of pondering my own aging. And now I’m moving on to brighter things. Better choices. Healthier living. Younger living. If you stay with me, you’ll see the difference here on the pages. At least, I hope you do. We’re into Young Living around here nowadays. but truly, we’re just in to living younger.

Thank you for joining me at this table. It’s a place we gather. We’re honest here. We’re bold, we’re tender, but most of all, we give grace here.

God bless- more next time.table

The truth list–for young love.

IMG_5191A weekend spent watching two young loves fight over common ground left me weary and wondering. I know, as younger marrieds, the husband and I battled over every thing big and small. And I thought I wasn’t a fighter. I’d told him so before we were even engaged. But that was then. Now, I’m watching you kids, and I’m questioning the groundwork we laid as parents. I pray you saw the good ground too. There was lots of good ground, yet I know, because these lists have more than covered my own nearsightedness, that sometimes the hard times make up the majority of the memories that stand out. But haven’t we learned about hard times? They make us stronger. Or maybe, you need more time to mature enough to know the truth about hard times. At your age, hard times can make you think you’re weak. That’s a lie.

Don’t let the enemy of your soul rob you of the ground you’ve fought and bled over. Your walk through marriage is one victory after another–daily–down the road to becoming two people who live and breathe as one. That walk down the aisle was only the beginning.

So that’s the first of this list and bears repeating.

  1. Don’t let the enemy of your soul rob you of the ground you’ve fought and bled for.
  2. And the next one as well. Your walk through marriage is one victory after another–daily–down the road to becoming two people who live and breathe as one.
  3. And the most important lesson I learned somewhere around five years into my own vows. Love covers. That verse says exactly that. Love covers a multitude of sins. Love covers.
  4. I wish I could carve this one into the mini-mountain we climbed that holiday weekend so all the young marrieds could read it and remember. Winning an argument with your spouse is not a victory you celebrate.
  5. You don’t want harsh words to be the legacy you leave to your loved ones.
  6. Remember, your spouse is an adult. Treat one another with mutual respect and affection.
  7. Don’t keep a list of wrongs. The verse so important to a solid marriage. Those lists grow like weeds and produce a harvest of hurt and regret.
  8. Silence is not a weapon or a shield. Silence is something you gift to one another when truly listening, really hearing, relaxing, and/or simply appreciating. Silence should be a gift you give.
  9. Give one another second chances. And thirds. And fourths. You’ll see things differently with a little more time.
  10. Being right doesn’t make you superior. Being right makes you a teacher. Be a godly teacher.
  11. Respect one another’s differences. Recognize one another’s feelings. Don’t try to mold your spouse into someone they’re not. Don’t set one another up for failure. Instead pray and pray hard. The love of your life needs your prayers. They need you to intercede for them. They need to know you go to God on their behalf. There’s no greater love than to lay down your life for a friend. Now there’s a verse to live your marriage by. Love like that.

This has been the hard-fought for list, the list written through tears, and all because a holiday weekend of watching young couple dynamics left me in a quandary. This list may seem cliche to some, but in truth, these are the hard truths. These are the reckonings of my heart for the hearts of the ones I love. This is the list I prayed over, lost sleep over, and finally received the words for all within a day and a night. Yet still, this is not the last list. More to come.

With all my love for those I love,

Mom

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