an honest confession.

I have often come here to write.  My heart so full, with a desperate need to let out all that was getting lost inside.

But, as I let go and started to type, I would hesitate.  Reading over the words, the discouragement, the brokenness -  I wasn't sure I wanted to let others that deep inside.

This season in my life.  Has been hard.

I have ached.  I have longed.  I have broken.

I do not want to get into a depressing rant.

That is not what this is.

But, this has not been a season of triumphs.

Rather I have watched myself fall.  Over and over again.

There is a song by Misty Edwards, and if you can, please listen to it while you read this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIjV0xTf8nM

It is the soundtrack to the last year and a half of my life.

Since we moved to Eureka, two things have been the hallmark of my struggles.  1.  Trusting my husbands faithfulness and 2. depression.

If you know my husband the first would be laughable to you.  Not only is he kind, fun, and amazing, he is faithful.

Yet, my thoughts will find themselves on a rabbit trail of 'what ifs' until I am certain he must not love me anymore and is looking for the next best thing, perhaps in a moment of weakness he fell.

Then I retreat.  I feel so ashamed that I could question him in my heart.  My mind pounds with deceptive images until I am desperate to be reassured.  As he holds me and tells me his love, and I weep in his arms, that I could allow my thoughts to ever go there - I am filled with shame.  I am filled with discouragement.  So, I try to keep secret the struggles, the fears, and my heart turns inward.  Going through the motions of life, terrified of the thoughts that fill my mind.

And in sinks depression.  What is wrong with me that I could question my spouse?  Why am I not happy with where we live?  Why is this all about me?  and WHY?! can't I just get over it?

I believe that joy is a choice.  It's not something that just happens, but it comes when we choose to agree with it and believe that it is there for us to take.

And I choose JOY!

I do not understand this season.  I do not understand why I am struggling so deeply.

But, I know that there is a prize if I stay faithful.  I know that while I can't see the end, my God can and he is walking this through, with me.

In this, has been a desperate need to pull closer to God.  To hold tight and not let go.  To allow him to carry me and to rest in his arms, because I am completely empty.

There isn't a light at the end of the tunnel.  There isn't a someday this will all be over.  I have no promises for tomorrow.

There are days that I start to feel that I have found victory, but with them is a sinking fear that I will fail the next time doubt stirs in my mind.

Lately, as I watch the patterns I go through, and I feel myself cycling through again - I remind myself to cling to truth and to remember that in the hard moments - when everything is falling apart - next time it will be just a little easier.

In every day there is success and failure.  I find myself more often counting my failures than my successes.  Staring deeply at what I've done wrong rather than what I have done right.

I am like a child learning to walk again.

What was once second nature is being learned once more.

Perhaps this is all a part of being reborn.  Truly learning to rely on He who formed you, when everything seems to fall in shambles.

I may never understand what brought us here, what reason I needed to endure this season.  But, I believe that this is just a season.  That life once more will spring clearly forth.

That my thoughts will no longer be subject to fear and I will fully put on the mind of Christ.

I want to be clear that this is not despair.  Though I have known it.  This is not pain, though in moments it has taken my breath.

This is HOPE.

Regardless of what I see or know or feel - that in the middle of this I am learning to overcome.  and overcome.  and overcome again.

We often fear the breaking process and I can say with full assurance 'I hate it!'  But the hope of what waits on the other side of this is more brilliant than all of the deaths I have died.

Even in this.

I have an amazing husband.  

I know this.  

I don't always appreciate how blessed I am.

Then this week, as I have writhed in pain from a calcified rupture pressing on my sciatic nerve, I have been astounded by the man that I have married.

When this happens, which it does every few years, and will continue, until I am ready to undergo surgery - I turn from a happy, healthy woman, to one screaming in pain.  As I lie, writhing on the couch through the night, I imagine the relief I could get from slamming my head into the tile floor.  Anything to relieve the desperate, shooting sparks flying up and down my leg, the charlie horse of hell- constant throbbing in my back. 

Unfortunately there is not a position that doesn't bring pain.  My bed brings more.  I alternate between the couch, the floor and popping pills that don't come close to kissing the edge of pain.

I am so thankful to not be pregnant or nursing, this time.  I have previously not had the luxury of chemicals to relieve the agony.  The fact that they aren't working has been discouraging, but it feels good to try.  The bottle of wine I drank, dulled the sense of the pain, but not the pain itself.  The vomiting left me feeling as though death were lurking in the night as I tossed myself into the oblivion of hell.  

Through this.  My husband, the man who didn't know all he was getting himself into, has gently taken care of me.

He has woken to tend to the children, taking them to the park, to the store, giving me space to writhe.

He has stood through my fears, my insecurities, as I question and blame.  Lost in my pain I see only myself.

He has left work to take me to chiropractic appointments, massage therapy, woken at 3AM to massage the knots that form.  

And I am humbled at his love.

I am amazed at his gentleness.  

I am wooed by care.

We don't expect the bad things in life. 

When they come, as they come, and character and truth are put to test - I find myself a little shaken by the depth of promise made.  The valor of the man who stands to care.  Who puts his family first.  Who gently loves and firmly lives.

I know.  I believe.  That there is an end to this.  

I have shaken the strength of his patience, screamed as I pushed away, gasped at the hands that supported, and bowed at the love that remains.

To say that I am blessed misses the depths.

I am loved.  

And in return, I love.

Through sickness we remain, faithful.  

In health we rejoice.  Free to run in this life - with joy.

To the man that I married, I am thankful - the day you said forever, the promises you keep.  This life, together, we live.

 

Beauty is not a fantasy.

YOU are BEAUTIFUL.

The words slip past.  Quiet on the breeze.  They are for another, and needless I push them away.  YOU are beautiful.  Ignored, they fade, silent in the whisper.  You are BEAUTIFUL!  I pay no head.  And like a shooting star, their sparks fall to nothing.

Then a hand cups under my chin.  "Can you hear me?  Will you listen?  You ARE beautiful!  Nothing I have created is without value or purpose, everything I have created is beautiful.  Will you see it?"  

Shamed I hide my face.  Ridiculous and foolish every unattractive person I have ever noticed, flashed through my mind.  I think, point proved. 

"EVERYTHING I have created is beautiful.  Who are you to judge it's worth."

Scolded I want to retreat, but I am held in the hand of my King.  There is nowhere to run, my soul is simply bare.  My wickedness is all I see.  I can feel every bit of me cringe against his compelling grip.  I am not worth this, don't deserve it.  I want to shout that I am UGLY!  I am without VALUE!  I am WORTHLESS!

But it echoes through me, EVERYTHING I have created is beautiful, has value, has purpose.   

Then I know it is a lie that I have believed.  It has twisted in me.  It has grown it's roots around my beliefs, my thoughts, my dreams.  It has blinded and demented me.  It has placed itself into my water source and it has been drinking in deep, greedy gulps, the sweet spring that was made for me.  It has left poison, for me to suck through the cracks in myself.  Death has encompassed me.  Spinning it's evil into every thought, pass by the mirror, pursuit of a goal, it has held me captive.  I have allowed it to grow.  I have pampered it, nourished it, and sacrificed for it, thinking it was a part of me, that it WAS me.  

As he holds me and his gaze grips, I feel my eyes begin to open, begin to see.  

I am Beautiful.

I have purpose.

I have destiny.

I have value.

"I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well.

My frame was not hidden from You, when I was made in secret, and skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.  

Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.  And in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them."  Psalm 139:14-16

No matter the opening that I allowed, the realization that I have believed such a debilitating lie staggers me.  When you can see clearly, you become responsible for the truth.  

And with a victory CRY I take my AX to it's roots, until I have pulled forth every sulfurous pit, that the sweet springs of life might once more flow through me.  

I am drunk in his love, in his intimacy, as the crevices of my thoughts and beliefs are filled with the water of truth.

I stand, no longer running, shamed, or afraid.  Simply open.  Looking clearly through the beauty that he has made.  All darkness, stains, wickedness wash away, leaving His flawless creation.  Made by the hands of my master, my KING.  

"I am my beloveds and he is mine!" 

Song of Solomon 2:16

His eyes twinkle and his hand slips around me as he pulls me into his embrace.  "My daughter, my love! Happy the day I formed you!  Joyous as I saw whom you would be!  You are my delight, my great pleasure."  

His presence fills me and I marvel at his great love and mercy.  That my Lord would lead me through each moment of darkness of pain, to reveal that his creation is great.  It is beautiful.  That I am his.

I am BEAUTIFUL.  And the shout resounds that all my see and know.  

EVERYTHING He has created is BEAUTIFUL.  Has PURPOSE.  Holds VALUE.

ReFinished.

Well, I did it.  I finished it.

I started what I expected to be a simple project of refinishing my dining room table and six chairs.  Only to find myself in the midst of tears, soul searching, ridiculous frustration, and life altering chaos.  You could say that therapy for me, is a paintbrush in hand.

Previously I didn't consider myself to be a perfectionist, until ever glob of paint that refused to stick had me cursing in frustration.  After 18 hours, my online scouring convinced me that I was using the wrong primer and should sand off the two coats already applied and go with an oil base.  In hindsight, I would have been fine with the latex.  More cursing as I realized this now 25 hours in.  I think they may laugh at me at the paint store.

I was told countless times that I should just throw the whole thing away.  There were points in this that I wanted to consider that an option.  Maybe just setting the whole thing on fire.  hmm.

Apparently I do not handle things well when they don't go my way.

I did not toss it, burn it, or destroy it.  I sanded, wiped, primed, painted, distressed, sealed, stapled, cut, padded, finished.

I'd say I'm about 100 hours in.  For those of you who do this, I'm sure I did a million things wrong.  However, I learned a lot as well.  I'm happy to say that I persevered and it felt good.

It took me a year to complete this project.  I may be a little insane, but I'm getting ready to start my next little task.

I love working on furniture.  I love refinishing.  I love watching something horrible become beautiful.  I think I may have caught a bug.

More than that I love proving to myself that I can finish what I begin.  That I am faithful.

Who knew there was so much to learn from wood and paint.  :)

Technically there are still two chairs left to finish, but the pads are on, I'm just waiting for more oilcloth.  There was a moment that I was going to cover the chairs in burlap, but after a day watching my kids exist, we switched to the easily cleaned oil cloth.

Happiness is, not using a table cloth every day.

saying hello to change.

There's a shift happening.  A firm wind is blowing.  I can feel it swirling around me.  A shudder of anticipation mixed with fear shakes me.  Change.  It's staring me in the face and I cannot look away.  No matter how desperately I wish that I could.

I love change.  The way most of us do.  When it's happening to anyone else.  Unless, your shift effects my life, then let's be frank, not such a fan.

Even good change takes work.  Settling in, learning a new way.  Forming different habits.  I am a creature of habit.  Truly.  When I wake up, I want to stumble half blind to the kitchen where I brew a big cup of coffee and spend the next hour shooing my kids away.  This is not fully realistic.  In actuality I have to carry two growing children down the stairs, make them breakfast, get them settled, then have my coffee.  Which at this point I typically feel I deserve, and to enjoy it without having balls thrown at my head.

Have you ever been committed to something, to the point that even when it's causing you pain you'll continue?  There have been many harmful things in my life, that I've struggled to walk away from.  I have to say, the biggest for me swirls around food.  I LOVE junk food.  I can barely make it out of the grocery store without raiding the candy next to the checkout.  I'll fill up on ice cream then moan on the couch.  My poor husband often wonders why I continue when it makes me so sick.  I guess the truth is that it wasn't making me sick enough.  Until lately.

Suddenly, or maybe it's been getting worse the last few months, or years, my kidneys ache, my body can barely function, I'm crippled with exhaustion, my skin is broken out, and now if I even touch wheat my stomach cramps for hours.  sigh.

You know how people can be too educated?  This is one of those areas that I knew too much, but didn't want to change my diet.  I knew that how I ate was hurting me, but I just didn't care.  I could eat junk without gaining weight and while I frowned at my complexion I wasn't motivated by it.

My mom is a health food nut.  Though her education in food and vitamins and minerals stemmed from a need to heal herself, she raised us knowing how to protect and care for our bodies.   I hit 18, bought a couple spray cans of whipped cream, some coke, a few snickers and ate myself silly.  As, I have continued for the last 11 years.

Since having children, I am much more careful about eating junk food and prefer the closet approach to letting my kids in on my binge.  There've been some moments as an adult that my family has been g/f, s/f, and d/f, but after a few months of clean living and even feeling amazing I've found myself returning to my old habits.    Mainly because I haven't seen (or felt) the absolute value and necessity in it, until recently.  As I feel the pain from every bite so distinctly, I'm losing all desire to continue in my ways.

For a long time it was just about restriction.  How, I was never going to eat such and such foods again, usually after a late night ice cream feast.  This is more of a plan on what I will eat.  How I'm going to do things differently.  Carefully choosing how I'll nourish my body and the growing bodies around my table.

And so change blows itself through the door of my house and we square off in the kitchen.  I can feel the fear of failure, the sense that it's going to be harder than I realize.  I could just give up, but that option is no longer on the table.  I want to have complete health, I want to be the best version of myself, I want to live long, because this life is no longer about me.

I thought I'd share with all of you, as I will probably be posting more about this new adventure.  I'm scared.  But, I'm more desperate than I've ever been and that's exciting.

Welcoming change.  It's a deep breath.  A shift that has to happen.  A blank page of adventure.

Blessings.

Nothing lasts forever. Nothing ever could.

My children are resting.   One to sleep and dreams, the comfort of peace.  Another, pursuing the imaginative journeys of a small boy with his books.  It's a grey day.  There's a slight drizzle that brings the earth and it's lush scents to life.  I can stay right here in this place.  This is a perfect moment.  My children are safe, they are secure.  We are warm.  We are fed.  We feasted on hot nourishing muffins and rich cups of tea.  We are abandoned to our good fortune, licking it up like spoiled cats their warmed cream.

I can feel the clenching of my hands.  My fingers tightening their grip, even as this is slipping away.  Each key stroke marks the clock, as minutes tick tock by.  Before I'm quite prepared, little bodies will throw themselves at me.  Awake is like a shock of water thrown on an unsuspecting victim.  One minute quiet, the next shrieks of joy and laughter.  I could not tell you which I prefer.  Only, that in the stillness I can linger.  Here, they are young forever.  Here, I am just a mother.  Here in this place, we will never age.

When the silence is broken, we must advance.  Each to their tasks, me the parent, the chef, the referee, the tickle monster, the teacher, the reminder of truth.  They to pull every piece of the house and their world into imagination, to be taught, to be kind, to play as hard as they can until they fall exhausted into their beds.  Before I'm ready this day will be finished.  I'll pull together the chores saved for solitude.  I'll kiss little cheeks, knowing that one day they'll be grown.  I'll pause a moment to rub my nose against the perfectly smooth, round cherub face with their bow mouths and lengths of lash.  I'll sweep some hair to the side.  I'll pull up the blankets.  Then I'll flick the last light and this scene will be filled with darkness.  And each of us will grow in the night.



Tomorrow we will be one day older.  One more day of change.  It will never be the same as today.  Tomorrow we will all have grown up.  But, I'll cherish the quiet.  The moments.  The peace.  So thankful for the overwhelming blessings of today.  I'll put off a little longer, until I wake and it's upon me, the moment they are gone.  When goodnight is to an empty house ringing of voices and cheer.  The echo of life that grew up here.

But somewhere in my youth, or childhood. I MUST have done something GOOD.

(Sound of Music)

To all lost in life.

Sometimes, the world stands against us.

Sometimes, fear stares in our face.

Sometimes, we stand against ourselves.

Sometimes, dreams aren't worth living for.

Sometimes, life is hell.

Sometimes, all we can do is cry.

Sometimes, we want to give up.

BUT.


Always, God is for us.

Always, heaven is waiting to invade earth.

Always, there is hope.

Always, life is worth living.

Always, truth remains.

Always, peace can be had.

Always, after mourning there is joy.

In the middle of chaos, in the middle of despair there is a battle that is being fought.  It is bigger than what we can see.  We can find ourselves swept away in the ripple effect of life, wondering how we can even begin to stand.  Depression, fear, hopelessness can loom bigger than truth.

Truth doesn't come in the torrent.  It doesn't come in the whirlwind.  It is in the still small voice.  It is in choosing to believe that whatever pain, whatever overwhelms, it is temporary.  You can sustain.  You can hope.  You can look to tomorrow and the day after and the day after that.

Your dreams are important.  You are valuable.  You have purpose.  Destiny.  Hope.

Right where you are, you are okay.

Peace to you.  and when you can receive it, Joy.