Category Archives: Strength for the Journey

Not my circus, not my monkeys

24 Thursday Sep 2015

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I loved it when the teacher asked me to take names when she left the room. (Do they even do that anymore!?!) I wanted everyone to be doing what they’re supposed to be, even when the teacher wasn’t watching.

Lest you think I was the tattle-tail of Mrs. Temple’s first grade class at Rena Bulluck Elementary School in rural Pleasant Garden, NC, I didn’t WANT to tell the teacher if anyone was unruly. I would instead “encourage” them to behave in her absence.

Although I’ve prided myself in never getting a spanking in school — and if I HAD gotten one, I’d’ve gotten another one when I got home — I DID get my hand paddled with a ruler, I spent quite a bit of time in the corner, and I was forever writing sentences. I still remember what I had to write: I must learn to listen. There were two reasons I had to stand in the corner, got my hand paddled, or had to write sentences:

  1. I was talking to my friends when I was supposed to be quiet.
  2. I’d go around and “help” all the other kids with their work when I finished mine, even though I’d been told to stay in my seat.

Fast forward from the first grade to high school, circa 1981.

Same “helper”. Defined: enabler. It’s been said that “helping” is the sunny side of “control”. I’ve actually been known to write term papers for people — don’t tell Mrs. Loggins! Why couldn’t I look around and say, “Not my circus, not my monkeys?” I carried problems that weren’t mine to bear even as a teenager.

Same friends. Here are five of us in the 10th grade. There are more girls, but sadly I don’t have a picture of all of us!

5cis

Same mouth. I wasn’t in the National Honor Society. Oh I had the grades. But back in the day you also had to have good conduct grades. I wasn’t rude or disrespectful to my teachers. I didn’t cheat on tests.  Although I usually had all A’s, it was glaringly apparent which classes I had with my friends, especially Misty or Tammie, who were quite the talkers as well. It didn’t matter when the teacher moved us to opposite sides of the room, we would just pass notes and use hand signals.

A typical conversation every time I brought a new report card home:

Daddy:  Well I can see you have a few classes with Misty or Tammie. Any IDIOT can sit there and SHUT UP.

Me: But Daddy! If I can talk the entire time the teacher is talking and STILL make an A, doesn’t that mean I’m super smart!?!

He never bought it. He would waltz right in my room, unplug my rotary phone, and slam it down beside his recliner — where it would stay until I brought up my conduct grade. Then I had to use the phone in the kitchen, trying to stretch the cord as far down the hall as I could. It was a fate worse than death.

Now I’m all grown up (more or less). Those three things haven’t changed since the first grade.

The mouth: Still gets me in trouble from time to time, but honestly, I’m a lot better than I used to be. My daddy and my teachers tried their best, but only God could work that miracle!

The friends: My school friends are still my best friends. As adults, we still laugh too hard and talk too loud (again, mostly me, Tammie and Misty!). These girls have walked me through every mountaintop and valley of my life.

ci2

The “helper”: This one caused me to hit rock bottom. I was barely alive from trying to keep all the plates spinning. I found out the hard way that sometimes, actually MOST times, what other people are doing isn’t my business, even when it seems it is my circus and those are my monkeys!

In the last recorded conversation Jesus had with Peter in John 21, Jesus is trying to tell him something very important. It’s Peter’s life mission, laid out by the Savior Himself. Jesus told Peter: “Care for My sheep” (that’s us!). When you REALLY need your kids to do something, you don’t trust telling them once. Sometimes you tell them twice, or even three times. This wasn’t just important for Peter to do, it was vital. So Jesus told him three times.

At this point, one might think Peter would say, “Can you give me a four point sermon on how to do that? What exactly do you mean when you say, ‘feed Your lambs’ and ‘take care of Your sheep‘? I want to make sure I’m doing it right!”

Nope, not Peter. This is the same dude who impetuously jumped out of the boat and walked on water until he took his eyes off Jesus. Same guy who denied Jesus with a curse the night of His crucifixion. I bet he was as shocked as everyone else to hear what came out of his mouth sometimes. (I can relate!)

Instead of continuing the discussion about the directive to care for the sheep, Peter incredulously asks in verse 21,

Lord, what about him?

Oh I can see this scene now. He gives a quick nod towards John. Let’s move on past what You want ME to do, Lord, and talk about what You want HIM to do. What’s the deal with John? 

Jesus’ response:

What is that to you? You must follow me.

I think Jesus was saying (if Jesus had spoken Southernese), “You ain’t John. You’re Peter. What happens to him ain’t your beeswax. Forget about what I want John to do and worry about what I want YOU to do.”

Those are words for us “fixers” to live by. I’m not the Holy Spirit. I need to keep my focus on MY mission, not anyone else’s. I can’t fix people. I tried, and I crashed and burned in epic form. Not that I don’t help people when they ask. I probably do too much for my children even now, but I’m a work in progress. My life has much less chaos when I clean up my side of the street and leave everyone else to clean up theirs.

Of all the things I’ve had since I was six, I think I’ll keep my BFF’s, watch my mouth, and leave fixing people to God. After all, this is HIS circus, and WE ALL are His monkeys. He can handle the spinning plates better than I ever could.

Bowls of Incense

09 Wednesday Sep 2015

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As a child, I vividly recall praying that I would die before my Grandma Bunton — as well as before my dog, Snoop. God didn’t answer either of those prayers. Snoop drew the short straw in a fight with another neighborhood dog when I was in the 2nd grade. Thankfully, I kept Grandma until she was 92 years old.

Grandma and Grandpa Bunton raised 11 children on a farm in eastern Guilford County, North Carolina. They had very little, but at the risk of sounding cliche, they had a lot of love. Grandma, Aunt Bet and Aunt Lillian still lived in the  “Old House,” as we call it, when state took the land for the new I-85 bypass, and it was well over 150 years old. From my earliest memories, it was my favorite place in the world.

dee old houseYou can tell a lot about my grandparents by this picture of me on the back porch. Grandma loved her flowers, Grandpa loved his shotgun, and they both loved me (and all of their dozens of grandchildren). I still have that chair in my bedroom, and there it will always stay.

Grandma had a four poster cherry bed, and every night at bedtime she would read her Bible. She read the whole thing through every year. Year after year after year. When she was finished, she’d kneel by that bed to pray. No “Now I lay me down to sleep” for her. Every time I ever spent the night with her, I would lay in bed saying, “Hurry up and finish praying, Grandma! I’m cold!” I wanted her to snuggle with me! But she would just shake her head and keep praying. Her words were muffled, but I knew what she was saying. She called every one of our names in prayer every night — every child, every grandchild, and she wasn’t about to let an impatient little girl rush her time with the Lord.

On one of those nights when I was snuggled up to her in bed, I asked her if I could have that bed when she died. She promised me that I could. And Grandma Bunton never broke her word.

She was the godliest, kindest, strongest woman I ever knew. No matter who you were, you were welcome at her table, and she was the best cook ever. Homemade biscuits at every meal. She cleaned and canned and froze and sewed and every other thing a Southern woman should know how to do. And I wanted to be just like her.

grandma bunton2

When she grew too old to get on her knees anymore, she would raise up and grip the side of the mattress to pray. She was still kneeling in her heart. Early in the morning on March 27, 1996, she sat up, took a deep breath and laid back down. She wasn’t sick, it was simply time. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the face of Jesus.

I wanted to be like her as much in my 30’s as I did as a child. In her honor, and to follow her as she followed Jesus, I set out to know the Word and be a woman of prayer. For 11 straight years, I read the Bible through, and I continue to be thankful for her example to encourage me to be a student of Scripture.

Several years after she died, I got that bed just when I needed it most. I’ve had people ask me if it bothered me that she died in it. On the contrary, it made it all the more special to me. Luke 16:22 says when Lazarus died, the angels came and carried him to Heaven. How wonderful to sleep where angels had come to carry my Grandma to Heaven!

I felt a bit lost without her, knowing that no one prayed for me like she did. What joy filled my soul when I got to Revelation 5:8 and found out there are

golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of God’s people.

Every prayer my Grandma Bunton prayed for me, and every other member of our family are still there. They are a sweet smelling aroma to the Lord, and they are yet before Him. They’re still powerful, still bringing results, still a testimony to her faithfulness and love for us. Her legacy lives on here on earth, and in Heaven, in golden bowls full of incense.

If you had a praying grandparent or parent, and they’ve gone on, be encouraged. Their prayers continue on. And if you have been afraid your own prayers were just bouncing off the ceiling, floating off into space, if you thought your deepest anguish was carried away with the wind, not true, my friend. Your heart felt hopes and pleas live on as well.

If you’re thinking, “I haven’t had anyone love me enough to pray for me that way,” you’d be wrong. One who loves you more than anyone else ever could prayed for you, over 2000 years ago! In John 17, Jesus is praying for His disciples, asking God to strengthen and protect them to do His work. Oh but praise be to God, He doesn’t stop with just them. He goes on to say in 20 and 21,

My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you.

He prayed for US — for you, for me. A very specific prayer. He wanted us to be one, not divided. He prayed that we would be FULL of joy and be protected from evil. His prayer wasn’t just for that day. His prayer lives on today in Heaven, in a bowl full of incense, with all the prayers of the saints.

In the times of my life when I’ve felt all alone in the world with no one to help me make it, reminding myself that there are bowls in Heaven that are prayers for me, prayers of those who loved me, and prayers of Jesus Himself, made me feel safe and loved. Rest your weary soul tonight and remind yourself of the same thing.

Thank You, Jesus, for the prayers of the saints, for Your prayers for all of us. Thank You that those prayers are effective even now, in bowls of incense before Your throne. May Your words for us be true — may we be One, may we be FULL of joy, and may we be protected from the evil one. In Your Name, and for Your glory.

Hope Deferred

27 Thursday Aug 2015

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Ever felt hopeless and heartsick? The two are very closely related. Matter of fact, I submit to you that when we feel heartsick, it’s BECAUSE we are hopeless. We are afraid our circumstances won’t get better than they are in this moment, and that thought is almost too much to bear.

Hope is a wonderful thing. Without it, we are all doomed to live a life full of depression and anxiety. When you have hope, you can accomplish anything! You can get up, suit up and show up and work at whatever task is at hand. When we feel hopeless, it’s hard to find the motivation to do much of anything.

There is a time and place to say, “Don’t give up hope! Keep trying!” Sometimes you need to keep going to that dead end job because you’re learning life lessons, building your resume. Don’t quit school even though it’s hard! Don’t give up on your marriage when the road is bumpy!

But I say there’s another side to that coin. When you continue to hope for something that is NOT going to happen, praying for a situation that is NEVER going to get better, THAT is when you become hopeless, depressed, full of anxiety and fear. Sometimes it’s okay to walk away from a bad situation.

Proverbs 13:12 says,

Hope deferred makes the heart sick.

In other words, not getting what you want for what seems like forever makes you feel sick. Hopelessness affects you not just emotionally and psychologically, but also physically and spiritually.

You don’t have to be living in complete anxiety and fear to be hopeless. Maybe your life is less than what you want it to be. Maybe you’re watching your dreams go by, you’re stuck in a dead end job, you want something more, but you don’t think you can have it. You want to go back to school, change careers, but you’re afraid you’re too old or you can’t do it.

You can be hopeless in mediocrity, even if you’re not in complete misery.

To encourage you, I’ll share a story about our oldest daughter, Lindsey and her husband, Daniel.

One night Todd and I were taking them to dinner. All during the meal, Lindsey and Dan both were talking about how unhappy they were living here in central NC. It was just plain depressing for them. They love the mountains, they hate the heat, they miss his brother, sister in law and nieces who live in Alaska. They had visited them a while back, and they loved it, and Lindsey has wonderful memories of us living there when she was little. She actually LOVES cold weather (hard to believe she’s mine, isn’t it?!?!).

Todd finally said, “Then why do you live here? You’re young. You have no house payment, no kids yet. You’re a nurse, Lindsey, and you can work anywhere. Dan, you want to be a PA and if there is a good PA school in Alaska, then why don’t you go? Live where you want to live! Be happy!”

A couple of days later, Lindsey called me and said, “Mom, Dan and I really believe the Holy Spirit spoke to us through Todd. We want to move to Alaska!”

And with that, the wheels were set in motion. Within a couple months, they were packed up and made an amazing memory, camping all the way to Palmer, Alaska, seeing sights most of us only see in pictures. They both got fantastic jobs in their fields and they’ve living an adventure every minute! What a blessing to go live their dreams!

I suppose most Mamas would have kicked Todd under the table — are you kidding me?! You’re encouraging our daughter to move 5000 miles away from us!?!? But I agreed with him, as much as it hurt me to see them go. I love them enough to want them to be happy. I had a good cry saying goodbye, but I never doubted once this was the right path for them.

 leaving for AK

They need to be where they will prosper and thrive. What Mama wouldn’t be thrilled to see her children as happy as Lindsey and Dan are now?

lindsey dan AK

We’ve told all our kids that same thing. Live your dreams! Go where you want to go! See what you want to see! Live where you want to live! Enjoy life to the FULL! Don’t waste it doing what you don’t want to do every day!

My goodness, people, God isn’t mean! He doesn’t get pleasure out of watching us let our dreams die and fade away!

Here’s some good advice for you if you’ve got a dream of something better, or at least different, than what you’re living now. Ask God to help you bring that dream to pass, show you what doors to knock on, what path to take, and the strength to not give up until it happens!

OR, and this is a huge OR, if it’s NOT God’s best for you, if He has something better or different than what you have in mind, ask Him to take it out of your heart.

Now that I think of it, I need to pray that prayer myself! So why don’t we pray it together? As I always say when I ask people to pray with me, Jesus said when two or more agree according to His will, He grants their requests!

Lord Jesus, God of all hope, we believe You have mighty, wonderful and amazing plans for us. Plans to make our joy complete. We ask that our hearts and plans be in line with Yours, because we know that Yours are better than we could ever ask or imagine! If there is any dream in our hearts that isn’t Your best for us, that isn’t in Your plan and Your will, please help us let it go. Simply take it out our our hearts. We give all our hopes, dreams, and plans to You, knowing that You and You alone can bring the best to pass. Give us the direction and help us walk in the right path, to chase dreams You have placed in our hearts! We believe in You, Lord. Help our unbelief. Fill our hearts with Your hope! And when people see us living prosperous and joy filled lives, may we be careful to give You all the glory!

In the mighty and powerful Name of Jesus we pray, amen and amen!

Attitude of Forgiveness

20 Thursday Aug 2015

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A few years back, someone did some painful and undeserved things to me at church. Since the offense was public, the pressure was on for him to make it right with me. Here’s how it went:

Church Man: So you know that thing that you’re upset about?

Me: Yes. 

Church Man: Well, you’re just going to have to forgive me and move on. You don’t have a choice because that’s what the Bible says to do.

And with that, he walked off. To this day, that’s the only conversation he and I have ever had about it.

I’ve had better apologies . . .

At that point, I had two choices:

  1. I could hold on to that hurt and refuse to forgive him.
  2. I could let it go.

Let’s play that tape to the end and see what the outcomes might be.

What would have happened to ME if I had hung on to it? Bitterness, anger, resentment, and unforgiveness hardens the heart. It causes depression, anxiety, and a host of mental, physical and psychological illnesses. It changes your outlook on life and makes you an all around nasty person.

Well, that’s not attractive at all.

What would have happened to HIM if I had held on to it? What effect would what I was thinking and feeling have had on him?

Absolutely nothing.

He doesn’t know if I held on to it or not. I don’t know his heart, but he probably hasn’t lost sleep over it. So why in the WORLD would I choose to harm MYSELF over something he did?

I love this quote about harboring unforgiveness:

Refusing to forgive someone is like drinking poison and waiting for THEM to die.

Refusing to forgive the Church Man wouldn’t have hurt him. It would have hurt ME. And that’s why God wants us to forgive. He doesn’t want us to be hurt any more than we already have been.

Here are a few things I’ve learned about forgiveness:

  1.  It is NOT approval of what the person did to you. In the many years I spent in ministry, I heard some horrific stories. Rape, incest, abuse, murder — things that made what the Church Man did to me seem like a Sunday drive. If you forgive something as horrible as those things, it does NOT mean the person should go unpunished. Heck no, those people should have severe consequences to their actions. But forgiving them means you don’t continue to let the act hurt you even more than it already has.
  2. It’s not forgetting. Remember the old saying, “Forgive and forget?” I think that’s most likely impossible. I still remember the Church Man’s offense — but I don’t stew on it. Life is too short for that.
  3. It’s not being a doormat. It’s possible to forgive someone while not letting them do the same thing to you again. You can and should set healthy boundaries. Forgiving someone who hurts you doesn’t mean you should stand there and take the next punch.
  4. It’s not weakness. On the contrary, it takes a very strong person to let go of offense. I have a MUCH harder time if someone hurts someone I love. I can forgive an offense towards me far more easily.
  5. It’s not necessarily reconciliation. Forgiveness doesn’t mean you have to go on vacation with them!
  6. It’s not the result of an apology. Many times an apology never comes. Sometimes the offender has died and there is no chance of an apology anyway. It’s easier to forgive when someone is sitting in sackcloth and ashes and begging our forgiveness. It isn’t so easy when they never even say they’re sorry.
  7. It’s setting the offender free in your mind.Why in the world continue to live in that misery? There are much more constructive things to spend your time thinking about, things that improve your life.
  8. It’s choosing not to punish them. There are few things more destructive in a relationship than when someone punishes every wrongdoing.

Forgiveness is an attitude. It’s a way of life for me. I forgive because I want God to forgive ME. Matthew 6:14-15 says,

For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your Heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do NOT forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.

I forgive because I truly believe you get what you give. I want people to forgive ME when I hurt them, I want them to show mercy and grace to me, and if I WANT it, I have to GIVE it. Treat people the way you want to be treated.

Nowadays you hear the word “karma” thrown around a lot. I’ve heard it said that karma isn’t a Biblical idea. Maybe not, but it’s at least pretty dang close. Galatians 6:7 says,

A man reaps what he sows.

If I WANT forgiveness, mercy and grace, I had better be giving it.

I forgive because God will make sure all things are made right in the end. He’s the God of justice. If there are wrongs to be made right, I can’t make it happen like He can.

At its root, unforgiveness is really distrust of God.

When we want revenge, when we want to punish, when we refuse to forgive, it’s because we don’t trust God to make all things work for our good. We are putting ourselves in God’s place. Rest assured, He’s watching, He’s protecting, He’s got it under control, much better than we ever could. He said vengeance is His, and He will handle it in His time.

In the times of my life where I feel justice isn’t being served, I’m being wronged! Life isn’t fair! Lord, the wicked prosper! I remind myself that God is big enough. I love this quote:

In the end it will be okay. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

Let it go, stop holding on to things that hurt you. Don’t let that mean person live rent free in your head! Pour out that cup of Roundup. Don’t drink the poison. Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself.

Heaven’s Bottling Room

29 Wednesday Jul 2015

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My Aunt Bet was my daddy’s sister. She never married, never had children, never left home. That may or may not have been because of her Magnum P.I. mustache . . . .

All I know is she loved us — each one of her brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews. She’s been gone since 2012, and I still miss her so bad it hurts.

She kept everything. And I mean everything. One day I convinced her to let me throw away sale papers from years past. I said, “Bet, come on. Those things aren’t on sale now. Matter of fact, I’m pretty sure they don’t even MAKE some of this stuff anymore.” She glared at me and reluctantly agreed to let me throw them away, along with some junk mail from 1997.

After I left, my cousin John called me and said, “She’s outside going through the trash can, getting all those sale papers back out, fussing about you the whole time.” Sigh. There was nothing anyone could do. She was a hoarder, and she never changed.

Although she kept a bunch of junk only important to her, she also kept things that are of value to those of us left behind. Treasures such as my Grandpa Bunton’s wallet, exactly the way he left it the day he died in 1973, and my Uncle Howard’s letters from Germany in WWII.

(We also found someone’s ponytail. Yes, actual real hair. We have no idea who’s it was, or why she’d keep it. Come to think of it . . . .maybe its a clue about why Bet also felt so attached to her mustache that she refused to shave or wax it, but I digress . . . )

I’m a sucker for sentiment, too. I’m not a hoarder, but I have some boxes of my kids’ things from when they were growing up. Report cards, stuffed animals, homemade Mother’s Day gifts. Lindsey’s beloved Big Bird from her Nanny. Kaitlyn’s Lee Middleton doll that looks like her. Daniel’s one last shred of the cloth diaper he used to hold when he sucked his thumb (only his right thumb. He never sucked his left thumb). The blankets their Grandma Bunton made them when they were born. Birthday cards from their great grandma Bare.

Nothing in there means anything to anyone else but us. If my kids ever go through those boxes, I’m sure their minds will flood with memories at the sight of those things as well. They may actually even decide to keep some of it for themselves when I’m gone.

However, there is one thing in those packed away boxes that only means something to me. You might think its gross, but here goes . . .

I kept their bellybuttons when they fell off.

Those little dried up pieces of their umbilical cords that looked like raisins? Yep, no lie — kept ’em in ziplock baggies. Why would I do that, you ask? Why would I save what is essentially a SCAB?!

Because it was the one thing that belonged to both of us. It was my connection to them. It was how my body nourished their bodies. They don’t remember it. They didn’t even know I was there, holding them next to my heart, taking better care of them than I ever would the rest of their lives. I was never closer to them than when they were in my womb. No one but me would love them enough to save something no one else would possibly want!

(Okay, maybe I’m more like Bet than I think . . . if I ever decide to rock a mustache, please hold me down and WAX THAT PUPPY!)

When I die, my children aren’t going to fight over who gets to keep all the dried up umbilical cords. I’m the only one in the entire world who will ever pick up that bag and be moved by its value. The umbilical cords won’t be passed on to the next generation. My grandchildren won’t be telling their grandchildren, “This was your great grandmother Kaitlyn’s bellybutton! Here is your inheritance! Protect it at all costs!” 

Think what you want, but I’m not ashamed! Matter of fact, I’ve got some pretty good company. Look what God saves from His children. David said in Psalm 56:8,

You keep track of all my sorrows.
    You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
    You have recorded each one in your book.

Let that sink in a minute . . . .

He has a BOTTLE with YOUR NAME on it, and it has every tear you’ve ever cried. Every time you felt alone, like no one knew your private pain, God was and is keeping track of your broken heart. Every time you put on a happy face for the rest of the world, but inside you’re dying, God is writing it down in His book. It matters to Him.

In my mind’s eye, I imagine a room in Heaven full of bottles. Each bottle has a different name on it. A bottle for all my tears, and a bottle for all your tears. Some bottles are more full than others. But they’re all there. None is lost.

Why would God save our tears? No one else would care. Nobody in Heaven will ever pick up a bottle with loving memories — because they weren’t there to see each tear fall. Bottles of tears would never matter to anyone but the One who made you, the One who loves you the most.  No one but God would love us enough to save something no one else would possibly want!

And why would He save tears? Why not something else? What’s special about them? It’s His connection to you. Psalm 34:18 says,

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
    and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

He’s never closer to you than when your heart is broken. Even if you were oblivious to it, He was close. He was meeting all your needs, just like a baby in the womb is being fully and completely cared for by his mother. God was taking care of you when you needed it the most, even though you might not have known it.

When our spirits are crushed, when we cry, when we are full of sorrow and anguish, God cares. He doesn’t turn a blind eye. He is close enough to catch every tear we’ve ever cried. And He saves them. In a bottle that belongs only to Him.

Chew on this a while, let it invade your soul:

You’re so loved, so incredibly special, that the God of the Universe keeps all your tears in a bottle.

Made whole again

23 Thursday Jul 2015

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Somewhere in the latter part of 2010, I found myself content most days. Not in the valley, but not on a mountain top. Life in the middle ain’t such a bad thing. However, I had to be careful not to let something make me cry. Once the tears started, I couldn’t seem to make them stop. As long as I didn’t think about the past too much, about lost hopes and dreams, I could function.

Take for example the night Lindsey thought it would be a good idea to watch Disney’s “Up”. You know, the movie about the couple growing old together and chasing their dreams? As it turns out, not such a good idea. I wept in the fetal position on the couch for an extended period of time. Not quite a hissy fit, but heavy waterworks, nonetheless.

When things like that happened, I was painfully aware I still had deep wounds in places only God could fix. I accepted my healing would take more time, and I was content to live a quiet accountant’s life in rural Virginia, providing an education for my kids.

At Liberty University, there is convocation three times a week — affectionately known as “Convo.” On Wednesday’s, everyone goes. Every student, every faculty member, every employee. The entire campus shuts down. I loved it! I couldn’t believe I was getting paid to hear the best preachers and motivational speakers in the country. I soaked it up every week.

At this particular convo, a man spoke about his ministry of rescuing people from human trafficking, both in America and all over the world. He showed pictures of children being set free from sweatshops and women walking out of brothels, prisoners of the sex trade. Yep, this guy was doing a lot of good things. Very informational! Worthy of support! I didn’t feel it had any real relevance or connection in my life, but I was glad to know someone was called to do it.

He quoted Exodus, and talked of God’s faithfulness in freeing His children from slavery in Egypt. This guy was a modern day Moses, confronting evil captors like they were Pharaoh!

“This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘Let my people go . . . 

Then he said — and I can still hear his words so clearly . . .

“Prison isn’t always a jail cell or forced slavery. You can be in prison in your own heart, in your own mind, in your own home.

“Somewhere in this audience there is a single mom who feels unworthy, guilty. You feel ‘less than,’ not part of the Body of Christ, useless and disqualified, afraid of what people think. God knows your heart. He knows what your family has been through.

“Do you think He loves the Israelites more than He loves you? Are you less worthy of rescue than they were?

“Let me tell you something. God is STILL in the redemption business. He’s still setting captives free, still breaking heavy chains of bondage. Let Him make you whole again.“

Instantly, I went from a position of, “This is a great ministry. Such a blessing for those people who need rescue!” to a position of, “Wait . . . what? Is he talking to me?!”

Ever have one of those moments? When you feel like you’re the only person in a room (in this case, a room of 10,000 people), and the speaker is talking just to you? When you sit straight up and look around to see if anyone else is having this out of body experience as well?

Could it be? Did God love me as much as He loved the Israelites?

I sort of believed I DESERVED to live with guilt and shame. Shouldn’t I be ashamed of being divorced? God had already spoken to my friend Karen that He was healing me. I believed that. But could I forgive myself of a failed marriage? Could I not only be healed, but made WHOLE again?

In that moment, I felt a heavy weight lift off my body, off my heart, off my mind. No, I couldn’t go back and fix my broken family. But I COULD start over. I set my mind in that Convo, that very day, that I was going to walk in that freedom — to drop the chains that had me bound. Sitting there, I realized forgiving myself was an essential part of my healing, to not just exist, but MADE WHOLE AGAIN.

Before anyone gets their panties in a wad, slow your roll. In no way am I advocating divorce, and neither was the speaker that day, whoever he was. On the contrary, I wouldn’t wish divorce on my worst enemy. I believe in marriage. I believe in keeping your vows and making it work when the road is hard. As happy as Todd and I are, as much as we love each other, we both wish we could have had intact, healthy, happy families for our children. We wish we weren’t divorced. But we’re making the most of the cards we’ve been dealt instead of being held captive by the past.

If you’re looking at divorce in your rear view mirror (or you know someone who is!), let me share a few tidbits of encouragement that I learned from my journey.

  • Although God hates divorce, He loves divorced people.
  • Jesus didn’t die for marriage. He died for the individual. God sees you as His child, His beloved. You aren’t less important to Him now that you’re single again!
  • Don’t soothe your pain with another human being. Jumping into a relationship slows the healing process. No human being can fix your broken heart — only God can. I’m thankful for my years of being single. It freed me from distraction!
  • Forgive the pain! Let it go! Give up trying to improve your past!
  • If you have children, PAY ATTENTION TO THEM. They’ve never needed you more. They need to know you’ll never leave them. Provide as much stability as you possibly can. Prioritize their health and healing.

And most importantly,

  • You aren’t disqualified from use in God’s kingdom. If you’ve survived the trauma of divorce, you can relate. Comfort them that God still has a plan for their good, for their success! Be positive and encouraging. No one wants to be around negativity!

Lest you think this post doesn’t pertain to you because you’re not divorced, hold up! Your prison cell might be one of addiction, fear, unforgiveness, anger, bitterness, anxiety or defeat. Go back and insert your presenting problem into each one of those bullet statements, and find encouragement to start where you are, right where you sit, to walk in FREEDOM and FORGIVENESS. Look around you and say, “This looks like a good place to start.” God loves you as much as He loves the Israelites. You, too, can be made whole again.

Speak life

17 Friday Jul 2015

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My extended family has always been very close. We cousins were raised more like siblings. We even called each other brother/cuz and sister/cuz. My cousins continue to mean the world to me.

In March of 2010, my cousin Brad got sick. I mean, really, really sick. He was hospitalized with double pneumonia, blood clots in both pulmonary arteries and both legs. He had Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome and a machine breathed for him for days and days. He was given less than a .00001% chance of survival. Seven times they called in the family to say goodbye. Seven times he shocked the world and survived.

My cousin Steve suggested I start writing a CaringBridge about Brad because I was having a hard time keeping family and friends informed of his condition. I agreed because I knew we needed people praying. The only hope Brad had was for God to do a miracle.

Over the course of Brad’s several month roller coaster ride stay in ICU, the Step Down Unit, and finally back home, people logged in to read his story over 396,000 times. It truly is an incredible story, and if you care to, you can read all about it at this link:

Brad Reid’s CaringBridge

Even Brad’s doctors say he is a miracle.  He is not unscathed.  He continues to deal with the aftermath of that trauma, but he is still with us, and I’m eternally grateful! I love you, Bradley Reid!

During those intense months, I burned up the road in between Lynchburg and Moses Cone Hospital in Greensboro to stand vigil by his bed, sit with my family, or to say a heartbroken goodbye when we thought he was going to die. Life was all about Brad for my family during those months.

That was okay with me because I was already in the autopilot mode anyway. I had learned to just think about my kids every day, and nothing much else, to simply put one foot in front of the other. At one time I begged God to rescue me, and He had moved me into a place of quiet existence. I wasn’t thriving, but I wasn’t dying. Treading water felt so much better than drowning that I didn’t ask for more.

People were emailing me constantly about Brad, many complete strangers, telling me how they were praying for him, and how amazed they were at God’s healing hand. One day, however, I got one that wasn’t about Brad. It was about me.

Karen was a friend to both me and Brad, and she said when she was praying, the Holy Spirit told her He wasn’t just healing Brad, He was healing me. I was floored.  Healing me? I thought I’d been healed all I was going to be. I wasn’t filled with anxiety every day anymore. Wasn’t that enough? It wasn’t much, but it was dang sure better than the Valley of the Shadow of Death!

I gave my testimony about what God did through writing that CaringBridge for Brad if you’d like to watch it, too:

Dee’s YouTube Testimony

You see, I thought I was unworthy of being truly happy. Life abundant was something I used to want, but I was now disqualified. I thought I was finished with teaching, helping people, and ministry in general. The call I once felt was lost to me. I accepted that I was now useless to the kingdom. My life had ended badly. How could I be of any real service?

I didn’t realize it was a lie from Satan.

As I continued to write Brad’s CaringBridge, God began to give me words to encourage people. I went from just updating about Brad’s condition to making Biblical application and actually teaching again. No, I didn’t have a Sunday School audience anymore, but I had an internet audience. And I decided to be faithful to that.

The prophet Ezekiel looked out and saw a valley of dry bones in Ezekiel 37. God asked him,

“Can these dry bones live?”

Ezekiel said, “Only You know, Lord.” God told Ezekiel to speak to the dry bones, and they would live. Ezekiel spoke, and God brought new life to the dry bones, muscles and tendons. Once dead bones lived again by the spoken word. Folks, the power of life and death are in your words.  Be VERY careful how you use them.

Karen was faithful to speak life into my dry bones. I’m alive again, and I didn’t realize I was still dead! Look around you. You are surrounded by dead bones. I say to you, SPEAK LIFE every chance you get!

Friend, your life isn’t over. You can be a blessing to everyone around you. God isn’t finished with you! I’m 100% sure of that, and you know how I know? Because there is still breath in your lungs. As long as you’re alive, you’re still useful to the kingdom of God. Take that gift and pass it on. Speak life to someone else today. You will never know the ripple effect of that one kind gesture this side of eternity!

I went back and read Karen’s email for the first time in five years today. All over again, I’m crying. These are her exact words:

When Brad is well and at home you must continue to write- it is a blessing and many of us are encouraged and brought closer in our daily walk through your devotions. 

Well Karen, it’s only taken me five years, but better late than never. Thank you for speaking life to these dry bones.

Things Unseen

12 Sunday Jul 2015

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Please excuse my hiatus from writing. No, I haven’t run out of things to say — if you know me, you know that will NEVER happen! We just returned from 9 days in Alaska. I suppose many are surprised I’d want to go back when they know I had some hard times there. I had many good times there as well, I just haven’t written about them yet, and my daughter and son in law live there now! Throw in the fact that I loved Alaskan summers, I miss Lindsey and Dan terribly, Todd and his parents (Mike and Sue) had never been, we had a free place to stay, free airline tickets (thank you, Amex points!), and you got a recipe for a wonderful vacation!

There is a place called Hatcher Pass not far from Dan and Lindsey’s house. It’s their favorite place to hike, so off we went, driving and climbing up a steep 3500 feet. (We pretty much tried to keep up with Todd’s parents on every hike — they left us in their dust!) Near the top of the mountain, there is an old gold mining camp from the 1930’s called Independence Mine. The views were majestic! We walked around, imagining what the little town was like when you could hear the constant crashing of rocks as the gold was mined from the depths of the mountain.

   

We didn’t get to look at everything as much as we wanted, so on our last morning, Todd, Mike and I went back. Only this day was quite different. A heavy, dense fog covered the mountains. It was 45 degrees — so cold we could see our breath! But we pressed on to look at the historical buildings we’d missed last time, reading about the life of an Alaska gold mine circa pre-WWII. We could see the buildings when we got close to them, but we couldn’t see even one mountain. Not one valley. Not one river. Not one snow capped peak.


But we knew they were there . . . . not a doubt in our minds.

We knew that through the dense fog, through those heavy clouds, there stood the Talkeetna Mountain Range. There was no chance it wasn’t there. No possibility it had evaporated, moved, took off or left town. If we’d stumbled upon this abandoned mine on zero visability July 9, we would never have known what wonders were behind those clouds. But thankfully, we’d been there on warm, sunny July 6 and had seen the Mat-Su Valley in all its glory. It lurked past our vision — in things unseen. No human power on earth could have convinced us those mountains weren’t there. We had faith because we’d seen with our own eyes in brighter days.

During yet another difficult season of my life (there have been quite a few!), a wise pastor told me, “Don’t question in the dark what God showed you in the light.” I was having a hard time holding on to God’s word, to His promise that He had a plan for my life, and that it was a plan for my good, for my success. I was looking at the daunting circumstances right in front of me, instead of trusting that there is a God whose nature is to love me. I needed someone to remind me what I see in front of me isn’t all there is!

When you’re worried or overwhelmed with the cares of life, tell yourself that though you can’t see it, though the road looks scary and dark, through the clouds there is a mountain. (Say it out loud if you need to!  I do!) If you don’t have someone to remind you, remind yourself of Hebrews 11:1,

Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

Hang on, keep walking, don’t give up. There are all sorts of majestic things just beyond what is right in front of you. Preach the gospel to yourself daily, and remind yourself that though life is filled with shifting sand, there is a mountain that cannot be moved, just beyond the fog, the evidence of things not seen.

The Healing Place, 2.0

12 Friday Jun 2015

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I’m big on keeping your word.  Don’t say it if you ain’t gonna do it.  I promised Lib I that I would use our home in Gladys as the Healing Place it had been to both of us to bless the next woman, and I intended to keep that promise.

You see, Lib hadn’t been the only woman to do something like that for me.  And to whom much is given, much is required.  I had more than one reason to pay it forward and help someone in need.  That’s another story of God’s grace and provision, but I’ll save it for another post.

Healing was slow as molasses in winter for me, so I figured I had a long time before the next “someone in need” would come along.  Little did I know, the opportunity was going to present itself just a few months later.

Sitting in my cubicle one snowy day early in 2010, reconciling accounts and singing to my country music Pandora station with my earbuds, (and probably driving the other accountants crazy), I got a Facebook message from my friend Tracy in Washington, DC. A dear friend of hers had a daughter who was a freshman at Liberty, and they just found out she was pregnant. This girl had to get out of the dorm, and she didn’t want to go to the Godparent’s Home, where girls who are pregnant can go to finish school and get maternity classes and childcare.  Tracy wondered if I knew anyone who could help. They didn’t want her to lose the semester she had just started.

As soon as I read the message, I knew I had to help her. I’d spent years ministering to teenagers, and they will always have a special place in my heart.  Even though my little house only had 3 bedrooms, and ONE bath, technically I had the room. Kaitlyn had continued to live with her roommates in an apartment (my independent, “I can do it myself!” daughter), and Lindsey preferred to sleep with her Mama every night. (Even after she got married, I had to tell Lindsey NO she wasn’t sleeping with me, and to go sleep with her husband — if I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’. After I was the one who got married, I STILL had to tell her she couldn’t sleep with me! Some things never change!).  I went back to Greensboro on weekends to stay with Daniel more than he came to Gladys, so we had space for her.  It wasn’t the Waldorf, but it was clean, safe and warm.  My mind was made up.  This girl was coming to live with us.

One of the greatest joys I had while working at Liberty was having my girls come have lunch with me, or just swing by to say hello in between classes.  I had big news this time!

Guess what?  A pregnant freshman is moving in with us!  No, I don’t know her, didn’t know she existed until while ago. I have no idea what she’s like, don’t know anyone in her family, or how she even looks. Won’t this be fun? 

My kids know their Mama.  I doubt they were the least bit surprised.  Thankfully, my children all three have hearts to care for others.  They were ready to do what they needed to do to help as well.

The next day, I met Leah, this scared 18 year old girl from a big city, and her very concerned mom, Kim. My mother’s heart broke for Kim.  She was a strong woman, and she bravely trusted the Lord to take care of her little girl, even when she couldn’t be there. And the day after that, Leah and her precious unborn child moved in with us.

I can’t imagine how she felt, moving way out in the country (and I mean WAAAAYYY out) with someone she’d just met the day before. If you know me, you know I’m a hugger (and a kisser!). But I knew Leah needed her space.  Morning sickness will kick your butt, and it’s even worse when you’re young and alone.  I tried to cook her things she might could eat, and it seemed I was always boiling a ginger root to help with her nausea.  I’m a born nurturer, but she also had two nursing students, and my future son in law, Dan, a premed student, ready to look after her if she would let us.

One night as I was reading in bed, Leah came in, fear in her eyes, and softly said, “I’m spotting.”  We lived next to the Gladys Fire Department and Rescue Squad (which I think consists of 5 volunteers), and in no time, I was following her in the ambulance to Lynchburg General Hospital.  All night long, I kept vigil by her bed.  As the sun was coming up, we headed back home, tired and worn out, but with the tiny baby still safe in her mother’s womb. I had been praying for a way to show Leah I loved her and would take care of her, and I thanked God for giving it to me.

After that, she started to warm up to us.  She would ride to school with Lindsey, who would pull over to let her throw up, and would even let her drive so she wouldn’t feel so carsick.  Leah started coming out of her room, eating with us, and joining us to watch all the seasons of Friends on DVD since we didn’t have cable.  That little city girl was learning how to live in the country.  Before long, we were no longer strangers, we were family.

leahleah girlsleah2me and leah

We all look back on that ordeal as precious time where God’s grace, providence, provision and direction were so clear.  Leah became, and continues to be, my other daughter, and sister to my girls. We laughed and loved, played games and watched Friends. After the semester was over, Leah went back to DC to be cared for by her parents, and they welcomed the most beautiful baby girl in the world, sweet little Emma. Leah is now happily married, and has two more precious daughters. She is such a good mother, following in Kim’s footsteps — Leah learned from the best.

I remain grateful that Kim shared Leah with us for that semester. Leah gave me more than I gave her. She gave me the chance to pay it forward, to continue making a Healing Place, to add someone else to our family.  Most importantly, I was afraid God was finished with me, that He wouldn’t use me anymore, that I was damaged goods, and useless to the Kingdom.  Leah proved me wrong.

Let me encourage you — if you feel sad and alone, give to someone who is sad and alone. Take your eyes off of your hardship and pour into another who needs love. Don’t close yourself off.  Be open to opportunities to bless someone. Mark my words, you’ll find you are the blessed one in the end.  God promises it to us in Luke 6:38,

Give, and it will be given to you.  A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.

emma5  emma dan emma4 emma2 emma1 kaitlyn emma

The Healing Place

10 Wednesday Jun 2015

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My life stories won’t necessarily be in chronological order. I may go back and forth as the inspiration strikes me, but I’ll try not to be confusing! For today, I’ll pick up where I left off at getting my job at Liberty University.

Commuting two hours each way to Lynchburg got old right quick like. I did it every day for months, sometimes staying with fellow accountant and new friend Nora a few nights a week.  Eventually, I started to think it would be best to get a house in Lynchburg for the girls to live with me if they wanted, and I could go home to Greensboro on weekends until my son graduated. I truly struggled with finding the balance of where I was supposed to be when, and how to do what was best for all of them. It was simply impossible to be two places at one time.

One of my coworkers recommended a good real estate agent named Karl, and I arranged to go with him to look at some cute little houses I found on the internet. I could buy a house for a cheaper payment than I could rent one, so off to look at properties we went.

As soon as the first house came into view, it was glaringly apparent the pictures they had posted were taken a while ago — a LONG while ago. Evidently Fred Sanford lived there now! It looked like a salvage yard, and since I smelled the refrigerator before I walked in the kitchen, ain’t no way this clean freak was living there. NEXT!!

Standing outside this colossally disappointing landfill, Karl said there had been a property just posted that day. It might be another waste of time, but the pictures showed a clean, well maintained house. It was a ways out of town, but that was fine by this country girl. City living makes me nervous. And actually a bit nauseous.

When I pulled into the gravel driveway of that little farmhouse in Gladys, VA, I melted. I loved it before I walked inside. The yard. The trees. It was built in 1910 and had 9 1/2 ft ceilings, original heart pine floors and three porches. I wanted this house. Shoot fire, y’all, I COVETED this house.

As we sat down on the couch to discuss the offer, it seemed like the appropriate time for me to explain that I had no money. I mean none. Nada. Zilch. I said, “Do you think we can ask her to pay all of the closing costs, and actually give me some money back to move with if I offer her more than she’s asking? Assuming it would appraise for enough?” He stared at me, just blinking his eyes. I could almost hear his thoughts, Fannnnntastic.  I’ve showed this lady two houses only to find out she’s nuts?

“You want me to ask her to give YOU money back?”

“Yes, you see, because I don’t have any.” Didn’t I already say I didn’t have any!? 

I waited while he let that sink in a bit. Finally he said, “Well alrighty then! You have not because you ask not! We really can’t make an offer exactly like that, but maybe she will be willing to do something for you as a side agreement between the two of you. (In other words, I don’t want to know about it!) Let’s make an offer on the house, and I’ll ask her agent to get her to talk to you about any other arrangements.” Bless poor Karl’s heart. I could tell he’d never met someone like me.

Before the night was out, the owner of my dream house accepted my real estate offer, and she wanted to meet me to discuss the personal side of my request. Maybe she just wanted to meet anyone bold enough to ask for money to move with! Why not, I thought? I had nothing to lose. If the answer was no, nothing lost. I’d come up with it somehow.

Meeting Lib was like meeting an old friend. The house had been in her family since it was built. She said God told her immediately to accept my offer and that she was to help me move. I wasn’t sure I heard her right, so I asked her to repeat what she’d said. God had told her to accept my offer, and that she was to help me?  Help me?  Oh yes, I needed help.

I’ll never forget her words, standing under the 200 year old oak tree that day:

“This house was my place of healing. I’ve met and married the love of my life. Now it is to be your place of healing as well. Your incubator. God will do for you what He did for me. And when you find your healing, use it to help another woman who needs it, too.”  

I gave her my word I would. And I kept it, as you’ll find out in my next post.

Lib not only let me buy her beautiful home, her healing place, her incubator, but she gave me both a riding mower and push mower, and every other tool I’d need to keep up two acres of land. She gave me furniture for the screened in porch, and extra furniture for the house. She showed me how to fill up the outside Taylor water stove with wood that would heat the house when winter came.

But most of all she showed me that God still loved me, that He hadn’t forgotten me, that He hadn’t moved to Kansas and left no forwarding address, that He was continuing to answer that prayer I had prayed every day for so long, asking Him to take care of me and my children . . .

Although there were many, many, dark days, even dark years, my healing was happening. It was real, unfolding before my eyes.  It wasn’t instantaneous like some people’s seemed to be.  Slow and still painful at times, but it was happening.

I don’t know what your healing place looks like, but you have one. There is a place where God wants to take you. I can’t promise He will bring you physical healing to your body (although I believe He can), but I can assure you that He wants to heal your heart, to soothe your soul, to restore the joy of your salvation. Like my healing, yours may be slow and painful, and it may not be a literal house, but your place is there, somewhere. Ask Him for it. Remember that James 4:2 says,

” . . . You do not have because you do not ask God.”

This was my healing place, my incubator.  My little Gladys farmhouse. The house that brought me some of the best memories of my life, as well as my children.

gladys

Lord, I’m crying now, as the memories of my sweet little Gladys house fill my mind. Thank You for taking care of me and my kids through Lib.  Bless her for blessing us. And I ask that You that You do the same for every broken soul reading this blog. Bring them healing for their broken hearts and lives, and give them joy unspeakable. Give them a Healing Place, Lord. Most of all, I thank You that there is enough room on Your lap for all of us.