Category Archives: Strength for the Journey

Gathering an Army

23 Friday Jun 2017

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A year ago, a friend asked me to speak at a Ladies’ Banquet at her church. I enjoy encouraging others with my story, so I readily agreed. She asked me to pick whatever weekend I wanted to in May. I went over my calendar, Let’s see . . . not my granddaughter’s first birthday weekend, not Memorial Day . . . I settled on May 20.

The week of the banquet, I sat down to write out my thoughts. This blog I wrote 2 years ago,

https://southernfriedencouragement.com/2015/05/29/but-if-not-is-he-still-good/

is always the main theme when I speak. I tell my story of sinking into the deepest pit, scared of losing everything, having my worst fears realized, and questioning God’s goodness, only to find out no matter what my circumstances, He is yet still good.

As I prepared, I thought of how I made it out of that pit over the past 10 years. I found a way to still make a home for my children, I was given the most amazing man in the world to walk by my side and his two children to love, my beautiful daughters married wonderful men, and the light of my world, my granddaughter Kinley was born. BUT, and it’s always scary to know a BUT is to follow — I knew in my spirit that God was preparing me. Sooner or later, a valley would come again, and when (not IF) it does, I needed to remember He is still good.

May 19, the night before the banquet, my husband Todd and I went to dinner with our dear friends, Van and Susie, like we do most Friday nights. After dinner, we stopped in at Van’s sister Diane’s house. Coming out of her neighborhood, in a split second, life as we know it stopped. We were t-boned over a blind hill, totaling both our vehicles and knocking us into a third.

If I live to be 100, I think I’ll remember every second of that night in slow motion — the sound of metal on metal, my head whip sideways and my body slam against the seatbelt. The gut wrenching fear that gripped both me and Todd as our car spun to a stop and we turned around to see Van and Susie slumped over in the back seat. The panic as I screamed at the 911 operator to send an ambulance. The anguish as I watched those ambulances rush away with sirens blaring and lights flashing. It’s the stuff PTSD is made of . . . .

However, in the middle of the road, surrounded by broken metal, first responders, neighbors who came to watch, and re-routed traffic, I cried out to the Lord, the only place I knew to go.

God please help Van and Susie!! Please let them be okay! Help us!! Why did this happen?!!? Why couldn’t we have stayed at Diane’s 5 more minutes? Why did that car have to come over the hill? Why didn’t You stop this, God?! You could have!!

Very quickly a hush came over my soul. I physically felt peace replace fear. The Lord spoke to my anxious spirit and quietly said,

I allowed this so I could bless Van and Susie.

I began to pray out loud — and everyone at the wreck scene probably thought I was nuts. (They weren’t the first, and they won’t be the last!)

Yes, Lord! Bless Van and Susie! Let them be healthier, happier, more prosperous, more joyful than they’ve ever been before!!

And as I prayed, I heard Him say,

I’m gathering an army.

Todd and I left the scene of the accident 3 hours later and headed to the hospital to find Van in critical condition with a traumatic brain injury. Susie’s neck was in bad shape. I felt fear start to rear it’s ugly head, and several times since then, but every time I’ve reminded myself that God said He was blessing them. I knew they’d recover, and I knew they’d recover faster and more miraculously than the doctors thought possible.

The next night was the Ladies’ Banquet. Surely they’d understand if I bowed out. Van was still in critical condition and was in a medically induced coma. Susie was in terrible pain with her neck injury and cracked ribs, both in ICU. Todd couldn’t raise his right arm. I was bruised down my entire left side and had slept maybe 45 minutes. How could I speak at this thing?!

But wait . . . hadn’t God known what would happen the night before I was to speak? Hadn’t I been the one to pick the date? I knew it . . . I knew God wanted me to encourage those ladies with my story, and I knew He wanted me to share how He had prepared me that very week that a valley was coming. He wanted those ladies to pray for Van and Susie and be part of the army He was gathering. Over 100 ladies prayed for them that night, asking that Van would come out of his critical state.

When I got back to the hospital afterwards, right about the time we had prayed together, Todd told me Van had given a thumb’s up and wiggled his toes on command! Those ladies were among the first foot soldiers to be recruited in the army. Since then, God’s continued to gather even more.

Van spent four weeks in the hospital, nearly 3 of those in intensive care. Susie had emergency neck surgery. They’re both home and recovering. Susie is cleared to go back to work August 1, and we’re still not sure how long Van will be out. But the army God gathered has been faithful to follow orders. They continue to visit them, send cards and flowers, provide meals and financial support while they are both out of work . . . and they have prayed.

Yesterday Susie texted me and said, “Sometimes the army is overwhelming.” She meant she can’t believe all they ways God is continuing to use people to bless them. I said, “The army is just following orders. God sure does love you.” She cries every time someone does something for them, and yep, she surely feels God’s love.

I’ve never been so thankful for Romans 8:28 in my life,

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

The valley isn’t over, and it won’t be until Van and Susie are back to full health. Their doctors are amazed at how well they’re doing. Van’s doctor expected him to be in a wheelchair, and Susie’s thought she would be at least using a walker. They’ve shocked the medical community with their progress!

Van and Susie are not only our dinner buddies, they’re our travel buddies. Here we are in Mexico last fall, and we believe we’ll be back at it again soon!


For now, I’m still having trouble sleeping (that dang PTSD thing), Todd’s shoulder still hurts, we’re wading through mountains of insurance claims, sorting out medical bills, getting another vehicle and trying not to be scared to go anywhere. I’ve never been so aware of how people’s lives are changed in an instant when tragedy strikes.

But this valley was different than all the others I’ve been through. This time I don’t question where God was when the storm hit. He was in the middle of Friendly Avenue, calming my spirit in the midst of chaos. He was there in the dark nights where Todd cried and prayed over Van in his ICU room, and I cried and prayed over Susie in hers. He was there when we all gathered to pray and we didn’t know if Van could hear us until he squeezed Todd’s hand to let us know he did.

God was there. He was gathering an army. And in your deepest need, He will gather one for you too. There’s plenty of room for more to enlist.

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Home Where You Belong

17 Wednesday May 2017

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We live on the back side of the family farm, and our three dogs have a lot of room to roam. It’s a pretty good life for a dog! They will occasionally go visit the neighborhood next to us, and we’re not terribly far from a busy road, so we try not to let them get out of sight for long. Not to mention the fact that we have coyotes in these here parts.

The other night, my husband, Todd let them out before bed, and our miniature schnauzer, Shotsie, didn’t come back. Usually I can call her and she’ll come running. She has gone traipsing about during the day before, chasing squirrels, eating deer poop and getting muddy in the pond, but never at night. As time went on, I grew more and more concerned.

We drove to the neighbors’ houses and all over the farm. No sign of her. Eventually I went to bed and dozed off an on for an hour or two. Before long, I was back out looking, praying hard that God would help me find her. I hope I didn’t disturb anyone’s sleep — any good country girl can whistle like Ellie May Clampett, and Lord knows I’m a country girl.

Finally, about 4:30 am, I saw her walking by the pasture. Relief flooded my soul! I called her, and for the first time in her life, she ran from me in fear. She knew she’d done wrong, she was ashamed and she feared punishment.

But I didn’t want to punish her! She’d been gone so many hours that all I felt was gratitude that she was safe!

I had no way to convince her of that, though — no way to communicate that she had nothing to fear, and she ran away again. When I finally got her to come to me, she crawled across the driveway with her tail between her legs, her whole body shaking. I bent down, scooped her up, and hugged her close, telling her how much I love her and I never want to be without her again! It didn’t matter one bit to me that she was wet and had hay sticking out everywhere. My little Shotsie was home!

You can’t tell me dogs don’t have emotions. She hid under the bed and under the quilt rack in shame for the whole next day.

18402348_10156073585324409_8124132505999107313_oWhat a stupid dog, right? Why in the world would she want to be out in a hay field all night, scared to death, cold and wet with nothing to eat, in danger of coyotes, when she could have been home in a warm bed, snuggled up to her mom who loves her? She probably thought chasing a field mouse sounded good many hours ago, but it hadn’t turned out the way she had thought it would. Before long she realized she’d messed up, but she couldn’t figure out how to fix it. Eventually she decided it was better to face possible punishment than to live in those conditions any longer.

She didn’t know I wasn’t angry. I just wanted my lost girl back home where she belonged. 

We can be as stupid as a dog sometimes, you know. Shotsie’s night out on the farm (that probably took a few years off my life) reminds me of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15:11-32. The son thought surely there was something more exciting than living with his boring dad. Deciding that family life wasn’t for him, he demanded his inheritance, and off he went, living it up until he’d wasted every last dime. Scared and alone, cold, dirty, hungry, and tired of wallerin’ in the mud with pigs, he finally came to his senses, hoping that maybe, just maybe, his daddy would take him back. He no longer felt good enough to be his son. He was ashamed of what he’d done and just wanted to go home again.

Little did he know that his daddy had never stopped looking for him, never stopped loving him, never stopped hoping he’d come back safe and sound.

When the son finally crawled back home, his father was standing at the window — proof that he hadn’t given up hope that one day he’d see his precious son come down the driveway again. He didn’t shame his son, didn’t berate or belittle him. No punishment awaited him as he’d feared. The conditions the son had been living in, the consequences of his own choices, were punishment enough.

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

21 “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

22 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’

He didn’t know his daddy wasn’t angry. The father just wanted his lost boy back home where he belonged. 

Maybe you’re the lost son, or the lost dog. Maybe you left your Father who loves you so many years ago you can’t even remember why now. Maybe there once was that spark in your soul, but somewhere along the way you lost it. Maybe you think you’ve strayed too far, and the shine, excitement and allure of whatever you were chasing has worn off. Maybe you think He’s mad at you, and He’s going to punish you. Maybe you look at your life and think you’ve made a mess of it, and you’re afraid your Father won’t take you back . . .

He will. Believe me, He will.

He’s standing there, right where He was when you went your own way, holding the curtain back, staring off in the distance, waiting for His beloved child to return.

He’s not angry. He just wants you to come home where you belong. 

The best robe, a ring, new shoes and the fatted calf await you. Come on out of the hay field with the field mice and coyotes. This is where you belong . . . you’ve been wallerin’ with the pigs long enough . . . There’s a party on hold that He won’t start without you.

Remember Egypt

14 Sunday Aug 2016

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I love summertime. It’s my hands-down favorite time of year. I love the heat, the sun, a great tan (also known as increasing my freckle collection), and I especially love the ocean.

As much as I love this time of year, the summer of 2006 will go down as the worst few months of my life. So traumatic, in fact, that you’d think I’d want to forget all about it — just wipe it out of my memory altogether. But it’s burned into my mind. I’ll never forget it  . . .  and believe it or not, I really don’t want to . . .

That week at the beach wasn’t shaping up to be much of a vacation, but I desperately wanted to give the children some semblance of normalcy. Inside, anxiety and fear raged. I walked compulsively up and down the water’s edge for hours on end. I prayed with every step, begging God to show me somehow, someway, that He still loved me — that He saw what was happening, that He cared at all, to assure me He would stop the storm that was brewing.

Just give me a sign, Lord. Anything at all. Let me know it’s going to be okay.

No sign came. Nothing miraculous written in the sand. No perfect sand dollar or rare seashell. No sky writing. No still, small voice as the sun rose or set.

My marriage was in the last throes of the death rattle. We were about to lose our church, our home, our livelihood, and my daddy was sure to die any day. Somehow, someway, I had to find a way to hold it together for my kids.

As I power walked up and down in the sand, a weathered old man stopped me. I was in such a daze that I hadn’t seen him sitting there in his beach chair. Surely he saw the raw fear and desperation on my face.

“Lady, I ain’t never seen nobody walk at the beach as much as you do. You been marching back and forth all week. I’m wore slap out just watchin’ you!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I have a lot on my mind and it helps me to keep moving.”

“Well you might have a lot on your mind, but you ain’t got a lot on your bones, so I hope you sit down soon. Wearin’ out this sand ain’t gonna fix what ails ya. Why doncha just rest a spell?”

Rest!?!?  How could I rest when the world was falling apart? I smiled, thanked the crusty old Southerner, even agreed with him that I needed to take a break, but I couldn’t stop. I continued to walk, continued to ask God to speak to me . . . and continued to feel like He didn’t.

Looking back on it now, I think God was speaking after all. He wanted me to rest. Relax. He wanted me to trust Him, have faith, entrust my life and the lives of my children in His care, whether He fixed it the way I wanted Him to or not. Shoot fire, for all I know, that old man on the beach was an angel. The Bible says we encounter angels without knowing it sometimes, you know.

If you’ve read this blog, you know all I feared would happen did. In the next weeks, my children lost their intact family, their church, their home, and their beloved grandpa. I not only couldn’t protect them, I ended up with an all inclusive three day stay in the nervous hospital. A far cry from the way I wanted things to turn out!

Years have passed since that week at the beach. I feel it’s very important for me to remember that summer. I not only survived, I’m actually living again. I look back with great gratitude. If I wiped it out of my memory, I’m doomed to make those same mistakes again. I learned a lot — quite the hard way.

Over and over, the Lord told the Israelites to remember how He had rescued them out of Egypt and brought them into the Promised Land. He wanted them to recall what they had lived in so they would always trust Him to take care of them. Deuteronomy 5:15 is one of many times the Lord told them,

Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the Lord your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.

Remember, remember, remember. God wanted them to think about how hard things had been so they would know He saw their pain, their dire situation, and He hadn’t forgotten them. He wanted them to remember it so they’d trust Him the next time they were in a bad place.

On the 10h anniversary of that fateful week at the coast, I went back. That time, however, I only walked up and down the beach once a day — anxiety and fear free. Just a leisurely stroll, hand in hand with my husband of nearly three years. Oh I still prayed as I walked. My prayers were quite different these days.

I took this picture on our first night that week, and as the seagull flew off, I thanked God that I’m as free as this bird. Free from the fear and anxiety that used to hold me captive.

freebird

While my life is far from problem-free, I trust God more than I did then. Because I look back and see His faithful rescue, I know He will continue to keep us through whatever valleys the future holds, just like He did the summer of 2006. I now see His guiding hand, holding me and my children, even when I couldn’t see or feel it then. He never let us go.

Maybe you’re in the midst of your own storm. Storms of illness, wayward children, failing marriages, painful family situations, deficient finances, lonely nights and fearful days. I continue to tell my story of God’s grace and mercy to encourage others through their valleys. If God rescued me, He will rescue you. If you have a painful past, look back on it with a heart of gratitude that you survived. It’s my deepest, most earnest prayer for you that you will hang on, trust and believe that God isn’t finished. Tie a knot and hang on to the end of your rope . . .

You see, when we think the world is falling apart, it’s really falling into place. 

 

 

A Faith that Works

11 Friday Mar 2016

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We had few neighbors growing up. Our grandparents lived across the field. On the other side was the McGee’s who farmed probably a hundred acres. One of the McGee’s lived through the pasture, and behind the pond. That’s what having neighbors means when you live in a farming community.

They had three little girls. The oldest was Sandra, who was in kindergarten when I was in the 5th grade. She caught the bus at my driveway every day.

One cold afternoon as Sandra and I got off the bus, I saw one of our dogs laying on the bank. I ran over to her and quickly realized that although there was hardly any traffic down our dirt road, she’d been hit by a car and didn’t make it. She had been a stray, and we hadn’t had her long, but I was (and remain to this day) a huge dog person, so I was heartbroken.

I knelt beside her and sobbed. Sweet little Sandra put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Don’t cry, Dee. God can fix this. He can make her be okay if you ask Him! Just pray!” Even as a child, I knew I didn’t have the faith to pray that way. I believed He COULD do it, but I didn’t think He would, so I didn’t even ask.

Later, I felt the crushing weight of guilt. Why couldn’t I trust God the way Sandra did? Why hadn’t I prayed God would save my little stray dog? I felt like it was my fault she was dead as much as if I’d been the one driving the car that hit her.

Many years later, dear friends lost their baby. It remains one of the lowest points of my life, and I can’t imagine how much worse it was — and is — for them. As I held her tiny, lifeless body in my arms, I prayed with every fiber of my being that God would breathe life into her. I begged Him for all I was worth to raise her from the dead. I had never prayed so hard for anything in my life.

God didn’t answer that prayer.

After we buried her, I yet again carried a burden of guilt that I didn’t have the faith it took to save little Kaylee. It was truly a life and death situation, and I had failed the faith test.

Where once I felt I had a strong faith, now it seemed so many times in major crisis situations, my prayers were fruitless. I began to cringe inside when someone asked me to pray for them. I wanted to say, “No, please. Get someone else. I’m not the woman of faith you think I am. I’ll only let you down.”

During that low time, my friend Joey (whom I’ve quoted several times in this blog already, and there will surely be more) said while sharing his own experience,”I didn’t have a faith that worked. I had a faith that worked me.”

That’s exactly what I had — a faith that worked ME. My faith was working me to DEATH. And I was exhausted.

A faith that worked me carried the guilt of unanswered prayers. If I had more faith, if I could just have manufactured, strained, squeezed, pulled and pried a mustard seed more, then maybe Kaylee would have lived. Maybe my marriage wouldn’t have failed and my children wouldn’t have had a broken home. Maybe my Daddy wouldn’t have died. What was wrong with me? Did I have some unknown and unconfessed sin? Didn’t I quote enough Scripture? Pray eloquently enough?

I look back on all of that and shake my head. Whew! It makes me tired to even remember it!! I lived in constant fear, worry, guilt and shame. That’s a weight no one can bear.

Today, I’m so much more relaxed. I don’t get so worked up. I don’t feel like it all rides on me. I still carry deep burdens, and I still have some serious prayer concerns for loved ones that remain unanswered, but I don’t feel like I have to manufacture faith that I don’t have anymore.

I still pray! But how different my prayers are today than they were when I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders. I now let the only One who can carry it do the work.

If you ask me to pray for you, I’m going to! I’ll ask God along with you to bring your prodigal son back home, to save your marriage, heal your loved one with cancer or your sick pet, help you find a better job, and if need be, raise the dead. I have the faith that God can do ALL of those things!

Will He? That I don’t know and can’t promise. And I’m okay with that. I’m still going to ask, but I’m not taking responsibility for the results. God knows what’s best.

I wish Kaylee hadn’t died, and if I had to do it over again, I’d still beg God to breathe life into her body. However, I no longer think God didn’t save her because of something I did wrong. I’m grateful I no longer feel God is that mean. I don’t know if we’ll know this side of Heaven why she died, but I’m grateful I know we’ll see her again.

Through the most painful of life experiences, I’ve now seen wonderful things come from the darkest times, and although I don’t always understand why things have to be the way they are, I trust God more now than I did then. I realize now that He may have something even better waiting down the road, and if someone doesn’t get the job we prayed for, I know that could mean a better one awaits them.

All that trying and striving couldn’t manufacture faith — it must come from God. Romans 12:3 says,

God has dealt to each one a measure of faith.

That means the burden is on God to give us faith as He sees fit!

And how cool is this? When my faith is low, I can ask for more. In Mark 9, a man who asked for healing for his son knew where faith came from and Who to ask,

I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!

These days I spend a lot of my prayer time simply asking for the knowledge of God’s will, trusting that He knows better than I do, and the power to carry it out.

I finally found a faith that works.

 

 

 

Good, Good Father

29 Friday Jan 2016

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In November of 1995, we flew home to NC from Alaska for Thanksgiving. We left Anchorage on the red-eye and flew all night. Traveling with a 7, 5 and 2 year old could be a little tricky, so I made sure none of them had a nap that day to allow them to sleep on the plane.

Shortly after the lights went down in the cabin, all three were curled up, heads in our laps, snoozing away, looking like little angels. Mommy success moment! Now we could lay our heads back and get some shut eye too.

As we boarded, I noticed the family behind us had a 4 or 5 year old little boy. I also noticed that his mother ordered him a Mt. Dew when the flight attendant took our drink orders. This wasn’t going to end well.

Before long, little Johnny was predictably bouncing off the walls — grabbing my seat and swinging on it for all he was worth. I tried to avoid whiplash, and she tried to make him sit still. Neither of us were successful.

First Stage: Bargaining

“If you’ll be quiet and sit down, I’ll get you another Mt. Dew!”

“I’ll be good! I want another Mt. Dew!”

Bartender! Another round for Dennis the Menace!

Second Stage: Threatening

“If you don’t sit down, I’m not taking you to Disney World! I’m going to tell the Captain to turn the plane around!”

*Picks up telephone in the seat*

“Hello? Mr. Captain of the Airplane going to Disney World? Can you turn the plane around since little Johnny won’t be good?”

Little Johnny wails at the top of his lungs, “NOOOOOOO! I wanna go to Disney World! Call Mr. Captain back and tell him I’ll be a good boy!!!”

*Picks up telephone in the seat again*

“Hello? Mr. Captain of the Airplane going to Disney World? Never mind! Little Johnny is going to be good!”

And so it went. For hours. Little Johnny was rewarded with a few more Mt. Dew’s and I couldn’t wait to land in Minnesota so I could get a neck brace and call DSS to have this poor little abused child removed from his mother.

Sometimes you learn what NOT to do by watching other people parent.

My mother had planned since my kids were born to take them to Disney when they were all old enough and big enough to ride the rides, and I made a vow right then that when that day came, I would never use it to manipulate them into behaving. (And also not to give Daniel Mt. Dew. Ever.)

As my kids grew, they each developed a love for a Disney character. Lindsey loved Tigger, Kaitlyn loved Eeyore and Daniel was a Buzz Lightyear man. For a little while, he refused to answer to “Daniel”. At suppertime, I’d have to say, “Buzz Lightyear, come to the table!”

He’d get up on his bed, hold his arms straight out and yell, “To infinity . . . . AND BEYOND!” as he jumped off and ran to the kitchen. *heart melts*

What celebration when we finally told them, “We’re going to Disney World!” It seems to me they should still be this small . . .

Disney 1

It’s safe to say it gave us every bit as much happiness as they got, if not more, to take them on this trip. Seeing the smiles on their faces, the screams of delight as they rode the rides and met their favorite Disney characters made every sacrifice worth it. It’s a toss up as to who was the most thrilled — the givers or the receivers!

Disney 3

Whenever I have trouble remembering how much God loves me, I try to remind myself of how much I love these three, and the two children I was blessed with when Todd and I got married. God is a parent, just like me — but He’s certainly a better one than I am (and Dennis the Menace’s mother on the plane!). Jesus said in Matthew 7,

9 “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? 10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? 11 If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!”

If I have hopes and dreams for my children, and if I love to give them good gifts, how much more must God love to give to us! How much joy it must give Him to see us enjoy His creation, His blessings, His protection and love!

For some reason, I’ve had trouble with the phrase “God’s will.” It has had a harsh connotation, like it’s something being imposed on me, against my will. Sort of like it’s me vs. God, He’s bigger than me and is going to win anyway, so I might as well give in. Even though giving in might mean I’ll be forced to be a missionary to the Aborigines with no Netflix or half and half for my coffee.

(Seemed like I switched gears there, didn’t it? I didn’t. Just hang with me.)

In a recent Bible study, someone shared those same thoughts and feelings as I’ve had about God’s will. Same as me, she said it seemed like God was forcing Himself on her. But then she said if she thinks of God’s will as His DREAMS for her, she could then think of it as something wonderful to be embraced and desired, not something to fear and resist.

I can get on board with that!

God has dreams for us. Big dreams. His will for us is a hope and a future. If you haven’t memorized Jeremiah 29:11, do it.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

It will help you remember that His will for you is a great big, wonderful dream. He won’t use it to manipulate you. He won’t hold it over your head to force you to behave, or threaten to take it away from you if you don’t.

If you don’t think it’s come yet, just hang on. He’ll give it to you, when it’s the right time, when you’re old enough and big enough to ride the ride. For no other reason than because He loves you.

He’s a good, good Father.

The Purpose of Pain

22 Tuesday Dec 2015

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I have always loved all the excitement, activity and tradition that leads up to Christmas. Mama and Daddy would take us walking through the woods on our family land in mid-December to pick out a tree. We always got a pretty cedar, and to this day, a cedar tree smells like Christmas to me.

My aunt Bet took me to see Santa every year at Sears at Friendly Center. I was never bothered by his obviously fake beard. Seemed legit.

santa

The TV shows, oh how I loved them — Rudolph, Frosty, Charlie Brown, Santa Claus is Coming to Town, the Grinch. If you missed them, you had to wait until the next year to catch them again. It was happiest time of year for me.

Christmas Eve was the one night my parents didn’t have to make me go to bed. You remember it, right? Desperately trying to go to sleep because the sooner you could, the sooner Christmas morning would be here?

My brother and I had a plan. Whoever woke up first would go wake the other, and together we’d rush into the living room. Even if the first one woke up at 3:00 am, we’d still get up! Mama and Daddy would leave the tree lit all night on Christmas Eve, and we loved opening our gifts by only the light of the tree.

When I was 10 years old, I simply couldn’t stand waiting several more days to see what I was getting for Christmas. Finding myself alone in the house, temptation overcame me. I carefully unwrapped all my gifts — just enough to see what they were, and taped them back up again. After I’d seen all my gifts, there was no turning back. Might as well see what my brother Dean was getting too! It felt good!! For the moment anyway . . . .

When the relief of not getting caught wore off, I immediately felt the letdown. Guilt and shame flooded my heart. What had I done!? All the anticipation of Christmas morning was gone for me. What is seen cannot be unseen, and now I had nothing to look forward to AT ALL.

Christmas of 1975 was the single most disappointing Christmas of my childhood. Oh I got what I had asked for — a Cher doll (of “Sonny and” fame), a Kodak Instamatic camera and a roll of film, a purple sweater, a hip leather belt and some bell bottom velour pants. It wasn’t that I didn’t like my presents. I loved them! The problem was that I had wasted my Christmas a couple of weeks beforehand, all alone. It’s funny that I don’t remember exactly what I got for Christmas on any other year. That one year is burned in my mind.

It was too late to save the Christmas of ’75, but I was determined to save the rest of my Christmases. Never again did I want to experience that kind of pain. After that, they could have laid a Kleenex over each of my gifts and I still wouldn’t have looked!! I’d learned my lesson because pain is an excellent teacher.

That same year, I remember my 5th grade teacher telling us a story about a boy who didn’t experience pain. The boy had some sort of nerve dysfunction. He could fall down and scrape his knees and it didn’t hurt! He could eat candy for dinner and never get a stomach ache; mash his finger in the door, stump his toe on the couch, or get stung by a bee — no pain!

As she told the story, I remember thinking the inability to feel pain was a pretty good problem to have! What a lucky boy! But Mrs. Wray was trying to teach us a lesson about the PURPOSE OF PAIN. Eventually the boy died from injuries and infections. He didn’t know to take his hand off the hot burner because it didn’t hurt him to get burned. He didn’t know to tell his parents something was causing him pain, so they didn’t take him to the hospital until it was too late.

Pain is a gift that saves our lives. It’s nature’s way of making us stop doing something unhealthy for us.

Is something hurting you? Are you in a painful place in your life? Lonely at Christmas? Take a close look at it. Is that pain trying to tell you something? Maybe it’s time to make a change!

Do you have habits and addictions that are not only hurting you, but causing your family great heartache?

Are you sick and unhealthy because of poor eating and exercise habits?

Do you keep losing relationship after relationship because of some behavior of yours?

Maybe the problem isn’t everyone else. Maybe YOU need to change — even if that change is to stop going after the same dysfunctional relationship time and time again!

Does it finally hurt bad enough to do something different? This is a wise slogan:

Until the pain of staying the same exceeds the pain of change, most people never change.

We are given the gift of pain to force us to change. If something is bad for us, it’s GOOD for it to hurt so we will STOP IT. God Himself might be speaking to you through your pain.

One of my favorite C. S. Lewis quotes:

We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.

My husband has asked me not to look at the American Express bill online until after Christmas. He knows I look at it every day because I update our expenses on an Excel spreadsheet (I’m a tad bit obsessive about finances!). It’s not easy to skip looking at the finances for a few days, but I don’t want to know what he’s getting me. I learned my lesson 40 years ago. All Christmases are safe because of the painful Christmas of 1975.

Merry Christmas to you, one and all! God’s richest blessings on you and your family as we celebrate the birth of Christ. May we all have the love of family surrounding us, may relationships be healed, and our hearts be filled with joy! And may God give us the wisdom to change any harmful behaviors before pain forces us to! May your hearts be filled with love, hope and peace. I love you all!

Choose Life

04 Friday Dec 2015

Posted by in Strength for the Journey

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Several years ago, I heard a woman tell her story about checking her son into rehab for alcohol and drug addiction. She spoke of his downward spiral, of the destruction and carnage left in its wake, of lost jobs, flunking out of school, sleepless nights, anxious days, and spending every waking hour wondering what in the world would happen next. She was bewildered. How had this demon of addiction invaded her family?

Finally he had agreed to go to treatment. Being a supportive mother, she went with him. Truth be told, not just for support, but also to ensure he would actually go through with it.

As they sat at the intake desk to fill out paperwork and answer questions, the counselor looked at her son and said, “Thank you for bringing your mom in. We’ll take her from here.”

Wait . . . what?

By all appearances, SHE was the one tore slap up and all to pieces. She had bags under her eyes, wild and unkempt hair, no makeup from crying, shaking hands, and wrinkled clothes hanging on her haggard frame. She wasn’t just riding the roller coaster with him. She was in the front seat.

I don’t know what happened to them. I don’t know whether he utilized the amazing tools given to him at the treatment center and stayed in recovery. I don’t know whether she got it together and made a manageable life for herself, regardless of her circumstances. I hope she went home, took a shower and SLEPT, knowing that at least for this one night, her son was safe.

What good would it do to keep pacing the floor, wringing her hands, fearing the worst, losing her mind and throwing away peace and serenity? None at all.

When my life was most unmanageable because of fear and worry, a dear friend said to me, “When the plane is going down, they tell you to put on YOUR oxygen mask before you can help others put on theirs.”

When you’ve done all you can do, when you just can’t fix it or make it any better, (and many times, when you’re just making it worse anyway!!!), it’s not selfish to take care of yourself. No sense in continuing to  “waller” in misery, as we say in the South. It doesn’t mean you don’t care about your loved one — it means it won’t help for you to die too.

King David found himself in a similar situation. His newborn son was gravely ill, and it wasn’t looking good. The child been born in less than ideal circumstances. Although God described David as “a man after His own heart”, David had some serious character flaws. The baby was the product of an affair with Bathsheba, a married woman. David actually had her husband murdered, then married her himself.

Sort of makes your family seem a little less dysfunctional, doesn’t it? I love that the Bible has stories about real people with real problems. They’re just like the rest of us, only sometimes worse!

2 Samuel 12 records the story:

16 David pleaded with God for the child. He fasted and spent the nights lying in sackcloth on the ground. 17 The elders of his household stood beside him to get him up from the ground, but he refused,and he would not eat any food with them.

18 On the seventh day the child died. David’s attendants were afraid to tell him that the child was dead, for they thought, “While the child was still living, he wouldn’t listen to us when we spoke to him. How can we now tell him the child is dead? He may do something desperate.”

19 David noticed that his attendants were whispering among themselves, and he realized the child was dead. “Is the child dead?” he asked.

“Yes,” they replied, “he is dead.”

What David feared most had happened. His son was gone. What to do now? Should he blame God for not answering his prayer? Should he blame himself for being unable to control himself with Bathsheba? Should he blame Bathsheba for tempting him? Could he turn the clock back, do the right thing, and stop this train wreck from happening? No, he couldn’t change the past. What was done was done. It didn’t matter whose fault it was. The child was dead.

20 Then David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped. Then he went to his own house, and at his request they served him food, and he ate.

21 His attendants asked him, “Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat!”

22 He answered, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, ‘Who knows? The Lord may be gracious to me and let the child live.’ 23 But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.”

David could have chosen to let this unspeakable tragedy destroy the rest of his life. Choosing to live didn’t mean he didn’t care about his son. He went to Bathsheba and comforted her, and he comforted himself with the assurance that he would see his child again. He did the next right thing — a very simple task of bathing and nourishing his body.

The Bible records that David felt deep conviction for the things he’d done wrong. He sought and accepted forgiveness, grace and mercy. I believe he wisely realized that beating himself up over it wouldn’t help. He accepted what he couldn’t change, and he set his mind to do the best he could with what he had left.

Friends, if you’re like the distraught mother or King David, and you can’t fix or heal some person or circumstance, can’t change the past or what you’ve done wrong, please don’t let yourself go. It won’t help. Care for that wayward or sick loved one the best you can. Pray for healing. Take time to grieve the loss of hopes and dreams, or even of the loss of life.

It’s time to get up out of your sackcloth and ashes. Take a long bath, put on some lotion, grab a bite to eat. Wipe your eyes, take a deep breath, and choose life. It’s the only one you’ve got.

The Art of Being Yourself

10 Tuesday Nov 2015

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My Daddy’s family had some very musically talented folks. So many either sang or played an instrument. Daddy tried to teach me to play the guitar, but he always said I quit when I couldn’t play the “Spanish Fandango” after the first lesson. How I wish I’d stuck with it.

I couldn’t play the guitar, and I could barely read piano music, but I LOVED to sing and dance. I’d spend every penny of my allowance on 45’s, playing them over and over, learning every word, and singing in my hairbrush as my microphone.

We went to a little country church with my Grandma Bunton and my Aunt Bet. They loved the Lord, and they kept the rules. I remember a lot of hell-fire and damnation preaching, but I also remember my sweet Grandma singing the old hymns she loved so dearly. She had the most beautiful alto voice, bringing the special music nearly every week.

They used to ask me to sing at church, too, and since I wanted to be just like Grandma, and I didn’t have a shy bone in my body, I was happy to oblige. I would dutifully sing the old stand-by’s like Jesus Loves Me and Jesus Loves the Little Children. But those were getting old . . . .

I was only four years old, but I can remember it so clearly. I had on a new pair of white Go-Go boots (the height of fashion in 1969!), and it seemed like a good time to shake it up a bit and sing my favorite song: Harper Valley PTA!

For those of you young’un’s who’ve never heard of that song, it’s about a single mother raising her daughter, and the local PTA thinks she wears her mini skirts too short, so she calls out all their hypocritical behavior. I encourage you to check out Jeannie C. Riley rocking her own white Go-Go boots and enjoy a real classic by clicking this link for your viewing pleasure:

Jeannie C. Riley’s Harper Valley PTA

I had my hand on my hip, shakin’ my stuff, belting out as loudly as I could, I WANNA TELL YOU ALL A STORY ‘BOUT A HARPER VALLEY WIDOWED WIFE . . . 

I can still see my Mama’s shocked face, my sister holding her hand over her mouth, trying hard not to laugh out loud, and Mrs. Rayle on the front row, hurrying to shut down my Go-Go dancing performance. I never got past the first verse . . .

That may have been the end of my singing career at Plainview Baptist Church.

Sometime along in my mid teens, however, I started to think my personality wasn’t optimal. I believed the lie that I was too outgoing, that there was something wrong with being an extrovert. I spent the next 25 years asking God to change me, help me be someone else. I tried really hard, and almost always failed, to be the quiet type.

Every time I was with people and the real me would inevitably come out, I would feel guilty later. Time after time, I would resolve myself to try harder not to draw any attention to myself. But inside, I was still that little girl, holding her hairbrush, singing and dancing in her room. When no one was looking and I was home alone, I could be me.

I got my love of music from my Daddy’s side, but I got my MOUTH from my mother’s side. When the Edwards family gets together, it can be chaotic, it’s always loud, and to me, always fun. They fussed and argued, but they loved each other, and I loved them dearly.

In 2005, my Grandpa Edwards died of a stroke. I sat there in the funeral home, trying to be quiet, trying to not talk to too many people — I’d gotten into the habit of constantly reminding myself of how I was supposed to act: be quiet, don’t talk too much, just sit there, no one really cares what you have to say, begging God to help me not to be me. It was an impossible task.

I watched my uncles, aunts and cousins talk to one another, and laugh and cut up. You see, my Grandpa Edwards loved the Lord, and although we were going to miss him terribly, we all knew he had been ready to go for years, and we would see him again. He was always the life of the party, and he would have wanted us to celebrate his life.

As I observed everyone else cutting up, very clearly, the still, small voice of the Spirit said to me, “Look at them. They’re fearfully and wonderfully made, just like you are. Don’t be ashamed of how I made you. I didn’t make a mistake. There’s nothing wrong with them, and there’s nothing wrong with you either.”

I felt a burden I’d been carrying for 25 years lift off my shoulders. I had been given this personality just the same as I’d been born a girl with brown eyes and blonde hair. Girls are not less than boys, brown eyes are not less than green or blue, and blonde isn’t less than brown, black or red; so being an extrovert wasn’t less than being an introvert. I wasn’t sinless, but I was okay. Just like I was.

That does NOT mean I don’t have to bring my personality under submission! I shouldn’t be talking when I’m supposed to be listening, and acting silly when I’m supposed to be serious. But it DOES mean I don’t have to be ashamed of how God made me, and neither do you!! Zephaniah 3:17 says,

The Lord your God is with you,
    the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
    in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
    but will rejoice over you with singing.

He loves to sing and rejoice over us, as He delights in His creation!

These days, I sing and dance to my heart’s content! My children love music as well, and they will grab a hairbrush and sing along with their Mama at the drop of a hat. I’m the first one on the dance floor at weddings and the last one to leave.

If you pull up beside me at an intersection, you’re likely to see me having my own little concert. If my husband is driving, you might even see me hanging out the sunroof, singing at the top of my lungs. He doesn’t mind. Just like Jesus, he loves me just like I am.

If you’ve felt there’s something wrong with your personality, that you’re less than others, if someone has told you you’re not good enough, don’t believe the lie. Hold your head high, straighten your back and stand tall. The Creator of the Universe takes great delight in you — this is your awakening.

 

Let it go!

05 Thursday Nov 2015

Posted by in Strength for the Journey

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Letting go is easier said than done for me. I’ve had to let go of a lot of things I was grasping too tightly, and every time, it has been a struggle. Most times, I feel like God has had to pry my fingers off of a situation that I couldn’t stop worrying about, thinking about, obsessing over, and trying to fix.

— I had to let go of my children as they grew up and needed, wanted, and deserved their independence.

— I had to let go of my Daddy when he was dying. If love could have healed him, he would never have died.

— I had to let go of a marriage I couldn’t save. Try as I did, I couldn’t salvage it.

— I had to let go of fixing (also known as CONTROLLING) other people’s lives. This one nearly killed me — it just can’t be done.

There is also another kind of letting go — letting go of people who want to walk away from you.

Sometimes you are the letting go-ER and sometimes you’re the letting go-EE.

There are people who are no longer an integral and active part of my life anymore — either because they made a concerted effort to leave, or because life simply took us in different directions, or because other things in their lives became more important and I was no longer on their list of priorities. Whether it was intentional or not, their absence left a hole, and I had no choice but to let them walk away.

Letting go doesn’t mean I no longer care.

It means I’m accepting what I can’t change.

Looking back, I can see how most everything I let go of brought peace in the end. I see now that God was trying to separate me from impossible situations where things weren’t going to get better — even with the death of my Daddy. It’s when I accepted what I couldn’t change that I found healing.

Dear friends suggested I memorize the long form of the Serenity Prayer, and in the darkest times of my life when I hurt so badly I couldn’t think of what to pray, I would say this prayer and it brought me great comfort —  and it still does. Most of us have heard the first verse, but the rest of it is every bit as powerful.

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will;
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life
And supremely happy with Him
Forever and ever in the next.
Amen

Relationships and friendships end for a reason, even if we can’t see why at the time. It takes a tremendous amount of faith to trust that God will make ALL things right if I surrender to HIS will — not mine, and to accept this sometimes painful world as it is, not how I would make it if I had ANY control over it.

When someone leaves your life, it helps to trust what 1 John 2:19 says,

They went out from us, but they did not really belong to us. For if they had belonged to us, they would have remained with us; but their going showed that none of them belonged to us.

It’s okay, even healthy, for people to go their separate ways! Of the people who have walked away from me, even though it hurt and I needed time to grieve the loss, I can now look back and see why it happened. Either the relationship was unhealthy and full of chaos and needed to go away, or things had changed so much that we no longer had anything in common anyway. Sometimes we just need to trust that things happen for the best!

If you’re struggling with letting go of some person, place or thing that is leaving you hurting you and causing you to lose peace, contentment and serenity in your life, I’ll leave you with a few lines from my favorite TD Jakes quote. I couldn’t say it better than this!

There are people who can walk away from you.
And hear me when I tell you this! When people can walk
Away from you: let them walk.
I don’t want you to try to talk another person into staying with you,
Loving you, calling you, caring about you, coming to see you,
Staying attached to you.
I mean hang up the phone.
When people can walk away from you let them walk.
Your destiny is never tied to anybody that left.

People leave you because they are not joined to you.
And if they are not joined to you, you can’t make them stay.
Let them go.
And it doesn’t mean that they are a bad person it just means
That their part in the story is over. And you’ve got
To know when people’s part in your story is over so that you
Don’t keep trying to raise the dead.
You’ve got to know when it’s dead.
You’ve got to know when it’s over. Let me tell you something.
I’ve got the gift of good-bye. It’s the tenth spiritual gift,
I believe in good-bye. It’s not that I’m hateful,
it’s that I’m faithful, and I know whatever God
Means for me to have He’ll give it to me.
And if it takes too much sweat I don’t need it.
Stop begging people to stay.

If you care to watch him preach this on YouTube — and it’s a good one! — Click here:

TD Jakes LET THEM GO

There is FREEDOM in letting go of what we can’t change! Acceptance is the answer to all our problems today!

Baby Dolls and Barbie’s

16 Friday Oct 2015

Posted by in Strength for the Journey

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My favorite things to play with were baby dolls and Barbie’s. In my baby doll and Barbie’s world, the family was always happy and healthy, the Mama cooked delicious meals that were ready when the Daddy came home, the house was spotless, and the children were sweet and respectful. Mama was the one who held it all together and everyone thought she was wonderful! I was born to be June Cleaver! I’m not sure what went wrong . . . . .

barbies

My people-pleasing ways started early. As long as I can remember, I wanted to make everyone happy, and if I couldn’t, I was devastated.

The worst punishment that could have been given to me actually wasn’t having the phone taken away (although that was horrible). The worst thing was to disappoint my Daddy. It literally felt like my heart would break in two. The last thing in the world I wanted was to let my parents down. I wanted to make them proud. Shoot, I wanted to make EVERYONE proud. I even hate to disappoint complete strangers!

It’s a well known psychological fact that what you think about your earthly father is transferred over to what you think about your Heavenly Father. So naturally, I’ve also always been afraid of disappointing God the same way I’ve been afraid of disappointing Daddy.

When my life completely fell apart and I questioned the goodness of God, I also struggled with the fear that I had disappointed God so deeply that He left me alone in the mess I had made of my life. I had desperately tried to BE good and DO good, but I couldn’t make my life, and all the people in it, work like baby dolls and Barbie’s.

Was God sitting up in Heaven saying,

“I really wanted to fix things for Dee. She’s tried hard, but bless her heart, she’s failed. Too bad for her and her family. I wish I could help her, but I expected more out of her, so I just can’t do it now”?

Had I let God down so completely that I had tied His hands from reaching down to me?

Let’s look at another colossal disappointment in Scripture and see how God handled him.

In John 13, Jesus is about to be killed, and He knows it. It’s the night before His crucifixion, and He is having dinner with His disciples — including His betrayer, Judas. We don’t have to speculate if Jesus knew Judas was going to sell Him out to His enemies. John records that He was well aware in verse 21:

Jesus was troubled in spirit and testified, “Very truly I tell you, one of you is going to betray me.”

Do you think Jesus was disappointed in Judas?

To answer that question, we need to think about the definition of disappointment. Webster’s defines it as:

“unhappiness from the failure of something hoped for or expected to happen, someone or something that fails to satisfy hopes or expectations.”

In other words, we’re unhappy when we THOUGHT something would happen that we wanted to, or we thought something WOULDN’T happen that we DIDN’T want to.

We’re disappointed when it didn’t work out the way we thought it would.

In light of that definition, I submit to you that although Jesus didn’t approve of Judas turning His back on Him, and He was hurt and troubled in His spirit, He wasn’t disappointed. He couldn’t be, because that would imply that Jesus didn’t know what was going to happen.

Read the beginning of John 13 and you’ll see that Jesus showed His disciples, including Judas, the full measure of His love by getting down on His knees and washing their feet. Although He knew what was in Judas’s heart, He loved him and served him anyway.

I don’t think God was saying,

“Wow. I can’t believe what Judas did. I never dreamed he’d stoop so low! I’m utterly speechless! Now I’m going to have to re-think how to save my children! He’s messed up my plan!”

God knows just how low humanity can stoop. Every last one of us. He isn’t shocked when we sin — even the most grievous sin recorded in history — the betrayal of the Son of God by one of His own.

I believe God was grieved in His spirit when Judas betrayed His Son. I don’t believe He wanted Judas to commit suicide, and I believe He would have forgiven Judas if He’d repented — just like He forgave Peter for denying Him three times on that same fateful night.

I believe He’s grieved in His spirit when I sin as well. I think His heart hurts when mine hurts. I don’t think He wanted my children to be from a broken home. But I don’t think He was disappointed — He knew it was going to happen, even if He didn’t want us to make the choices we did. He wasn’t surprised. And He still had Plan B when I messed up Plan A.

Yes, there is disappointment as part of our relationships with God. But the disappointment is on OUR END. We become disappointed when God doesn’t do what we want, what we expect, what we hope He’ll do.

How jacked up is that? He isn’t disappointed in us mere mortals, yet we are disappointed in the Creator of the Universe? Doesn’t seem right, does it?

We can’t use this as excuses to sin and hurt God just because He’s not shocked at our behavior. He has expectations of us, and they’re found in Micah 6:8

And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
    and to walk humbly with your God.

It’s a high calling, but we have a High Priest to help us.

Even today, I find myself wanting the baby dolls and Barbie’s life, and I still can’t make it happen. When I mess things up, He may not be disappointed because He knows me. However, He DOES expect me to get up tomorrow morning and try again.