Gratitude in Spades - Europe Trip Blog 5/6/2017

May 6, 2017

For years I've dreamed of this trip in a way that I never really thought it possible. Then about a year or two ago we started thinking about it more seriously and 10 months ago we made a plan.  I say "we" but really it was all Angela, my oldest sister.  I would have no clue how to plan such a trip.  And, well, travel is a passion for her.  

In this moment, I am overcome with gratitude. Tears fill my eyes as I try to write what I'm feeling.  Seventeen days.  Seventeen days!  Rome, Florence, Munich, five days in Austria and Hitler's Eagles Nest, and then more days in Germany in towns that I can't pronounce, Rothenburg, and then Frankfurt and Kassel to see distant relatives and friends. 

Tim and I work hard for the money we have but I also am keenly aware that we are abundantly blessed in this area. On this trip, since we are traveling with Angela who gets all the travel perks, we are mixing it up with the Hoy Paloy in the Admiral's Club, in the limo airport transport, and sitting in the bulkhead seats. The last one especially gets me because one of my pet peeves is the person sitting in front of me reclining their seat into my claustrophobic space. I have so much leg room that I can barely reach the wall in front of me. I can stand comfortably in front of my seat!  It's the small things that seem the biggest sometimes. 

I'm grateful for jobs that afford us not just the ability to go but also the time away. I honestly expected a few complaints from clients about my 3 week absence but only one hinted at it. I am grateful to be able to turn off all my emails (work and CCT) and completely unplug from those stressors for a while. It's a time of refreshing that I sorely need. 

I'm grateful for the upturn in Kelsey's health, one that was verified by the doctor the day before we left. One of her co-infections is the lowest it's been in the seven years since this hellish medical journey began. Her immune system is working better now too since she got rid of those disgusting tonsils last January. She is feeling better and it feels ok to leave her. But leaving her is always hard. I've grown accustomed to her in my hip pocket (with he health issues there have been long periods of time when we couldn't leave her alone) and without her near I feel a bit unbalanced. Secondly, through the good times and hard, we have become really close.  So, leaving her for the next two and a half weeks is hard but it's a good thing and I know she is ok and in good hands with Aron and Noah.

I'm grateful for my rock solid son, Aron.  He is the calm in the storm, the level-headed thinker, the heart-of-gold man. He is as he always has been: my strong-willed sensitive boy. And, he makes me laugh like few others! 

I'm grateful that this ginormous plane really does fly, an engineering feat that still boggles my mind. I'm grateful for people being so genuinely happy and excited for us to go on this trip that they endured my constant references to it. I'm grateful for Tim's hobby of photography because his photos will last longer than my memories. I'm grateful for a husband, two sisters, and dear friends who love every part of me, even those yucky parts. I'm grateful for a joyous spirit who so easily slipped into our lives and became a daughter. 

I'm grateful most for a loving, faithful, hearing, sovereign, sacrificing, forgiving, providing Heavenly Father for I know I am blessed beyond measure. 

Trust: It's What Floats Your Boat

March 17, 2017

Pretend with me for a minute.  You are in the middle of a lake in a small wooden boat.  Across the stern of the boat, on that place where the name of the boat is placed, is the word “Trust.”  You look around the boat and all you have with you is an ax.  Now, think about your marriage or any significant relationship in your life.  Have you ever told a white lie?  You know, those little ones that you think have no real significant consequences.  The ones like “Yeah, I’m coming straight home” but then you stop at a couple stores first.  Or, “My phone died” when you decided to not answer it anymore.  Or even, “I’m fine” when you obviously aren’t.  With each one of these, pick up the ax and take a swing on the edge of the boat.

Have you ever told bigger lies?  “I’m just going out with the guys” or “I haven’t had that much to drink.”  Or hidden things like how much money you spent.  Or do you have secrets locked away behind private passwords on your computer, phone, or tablet?  Have you ever told someone that “you just need to forgive and forget” rather than simply standing by your loved one?  (Yes, we all need to forgive but it is not always safe to remain in some relationships.)  Take harder swings with that ax.  Each time. 

Have you ever called your spouse a name?  Even in the heat of an argument?  Have you ever threatened divorce?  Have you ever threatened her physical safety?  Or how about the bombshell lies like “He’s just a friend,” “It didn’t mean anything.”  Have you ever spoken lies over your partner such as “You are worthless” or “No one could love you”?  Have you ever blamed someone else for your own actions?  “It’s because of you that I get so angry and yell at you!”  “If you loved me more I wouldn’t have cheated.”  Pick up that ax and strike it square in the middle of the deck of the boat, over and over again.

Trust simply cannot survive such abuse.  In order to trust, we have to believe that the other person does not mean us any ill or harm.  We have to believe in the foundation of good will between us.  We have to believe that the other person means good for us, that the other person only wants God’s blessings on us.  We have to believe that the other person will protect us and have our backs at all times.  This is what builds and maintains trust.  This is what keeps the boat afloat.

Trusting God is the same thing.  Peter didn’t step out of the boat because it was sinking.  He stepped out because he wanted to be as close to Jesus as possible.  And, in that moment, the whole sea became his boat that kept him afloat.  He trusted that Jesus would protect him.  He trusted that Jesus only wanted the best for him.  He trusted Jesus meant him no harm.  It was only when he doubted these things, when he took his eyes off the true nature of Jesus, that he started to sink.

There are times when I certainly have had my trust issues with God.  Times when things didn’t go the way I wanted them to.  Times when healing didn’t come.  Times when I felt lead to do things I didn’t want to do.  Times when I have to let go.  I told someone the other day that I know God has a plan and that He is in control but it may not turn out the way I want it to.  Trust is also surrendering my will to God’s.  The struggle for me is all too real sometimes.  I know what I know but I also know what I feel.  And when trust is low that feeling is always fear, with a capital F-E-A-R.

So then, I have to return to what I know.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fearfulness, but one of power, love, and sound judgment.” (2 Tim. 1:7)

“No longer do I call you slaves, for the slave does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I have heard from My Father I have made known to you.” (John 15:15)

“Just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we would be holy and blameless before Him.” (Eph. 1:4)

Beloved, let us The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love.”(1 John 4:8)

Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, For His lovingkindness is everlasting.”(Ps. 136:1)

Do you believe that God is all love?  Do you believe that God is all good?  Do you believe that God only has love and goodness in His heart for you?  If so, then step out of the small boat, keep your eyes firmly on Him, and see how He will keep you afloat.

“Trust in You” by Lauren Daigle

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n_aVFVveJNs

Schooled at School

Dec. 16, 2016

This semester is drawing to an end.  It’s a fact that saddens me but at the same time, I am so grateful.  I truly love teaching.  It’s one of those things that I never pictured myself doing.  For the last year of my Master’s degree, every time I walked on campus, I heard in my head, “You need to teach here.”  To which I would respond, “Who me?  What do I know about teaching?”  So, enjoying teaching and actually being pretty good at it is my proof that God will equip you to do whatever He calls you do to.  I usually make a couple of really good connections with students and walking out of class I am usually energized.  In fact, I have mentored quite a few students.  But not so much the last few semesters.

The last two or three semesters have been a struggle for me.  It’s been frustrating to see a decline in the quality of students.  Of course, there were students who were interested in learning, who tried hard in their assignments, and who put a priority on their academics.  Generally speaking, though, test grades have been on a downward trend.  The quality of writing in their papers has also been declining.  And I haven’t been making the usual connections.  The students, for the most part, just came to class, did not participate in class discussions, and always seemed to have excuses for poor or missing assignments.  I started to wonder if maybe I am the problem.  I would ask myself, “What’s the common denominator in all the classes?”  Me.  Maybe I am not teaching as well.  Or maybe my discouragement was showing too much and I seemed unapproachable or unrelatable.  Maybe I just needed a break from teaching.

So, I have been praying.  What would you have me do, God?  Bring me someone to mentor.  Show me where you want me.  He has answered my prayers in spades!  For over a year I have prayed for someone to mentor and this semester He has brought me some really special connections.  Both of my classes consist of students who are attentive, alert, and participate in class discussions.  Their essays were incredible!  And their test scores were well above the previous semesters.

But, more than just their performance in class, I have been able to connect individually with most of my students.  When I reflect on this semester, I can’t help but smile with the memories.  Ending the semester as friends is pretty cool.  Kelsey said, “You are a weird teacher.  You like hang out with your students outside of class.”  Yup, and I love every second of it!

Heavenly Father, I am grateful

for you hearing my prayers,

I am learning to be patient,

and that you are really there.

There are answers I’m receiving

No, they’re not always immediate.

Sometimes I have felt defeated,

That’s when I kneeled down in prayer

You show me you hear my prayer.

I’m amazed by how you care.

Cause you hear

My little prayer.

My Little Prayer – David Archuleta

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrPPJCu22ZI

The Open MRI

August 14, 2016

I am claustrophobic.  There, that doesn’t sound like such a big deal.  Except that it is.  Especially when I am required to do something that triggers it.  And, it’s getting worse.

For the past 9 months or so, my headaches (I have a history of migraines) have been changing.  Those who share this malady with me know that the doctor always says, “If your symptoms ever change, let me know.”  So I did and she responded with “Let’s get an MRI/MRA.”  So I went and they hooked me up to the IV, laid me on the skinny sliding table with my head inside a form that shaped around my neck and head.  Ok, not too bad.  Then he packed stuffing around my head so I couldn’t move.  Ok, not great.  Then came the Hannibal face cage….that locked in.  Nope, not good.  With my heart beating out of my chest, he took it off and let me do a little relaxation.  Then we tried again.  He locked in the cage and he started to slide me inside the “open” (that’s like calling a casket “open”) MRI.  I lasted about 5 seconds and then I Meghan Trainor’ed it (yes, I’m making it a verb).  “Nah” to the “Ah” to the “No,” “No,” “No.”  I went home.

The doctor then called in Xanax for me.  If you aren’t familiar with the drug, it’s basically a chill pill.  Back to the imaging center I go.  Tim is with me this time as my designated driver and support.  I take the medicine as prescribed, and get the IV hooked up again.  Back on the table, head packed, Hannibal face cage and I am visibly trembling this time.  Chill pill my ass!  So I take two more pills 30 minutes early which gives me a total of 1 mg of Xanax flowing in my system.  After waiting a bit of time to let the medicine take effect, we tried again.  Skinny table, head packed, Hannibal face cage of death, and my heart pounding.  That’s when the tech said, “Oh, the doctor added on imaging the neck so we have to do this part too” and he held up a device that looked like the front half of a cervical collar.  He put that on up under my chin.  Skinny morgue table, head packed, Hannibal face cage of death, cervical collar, my heart pounding, and now terror.  With tears streaming down my face and into my ears because there is no way to wipe them, all I could manage is to wiggle my head side to side to say “no.”  I cried the whole way home.  Tim asked, “What is wrong?”  “It was just so scary.”  And shameful.  I got home and not wanting to face anyone, I just went to bed.  Thanks to the Xanax, I slept 13 ½ hours.

I recognize that I feel a lot of shame with this.  I know that shame cannot live in the light so I am in the habit of telling people about it when I feel shame.  That usually takes care of it.  But not this time.  It’s been a battle even though I am being open with it.  Part of the frustration is not fully understanding the root of my phobia.  A few years ago, I figured out my fear of heights as being rooted in a loss of control of my body.  Just that realization greatly alleviated my fear of heights.  I believe my claustrophobia is rooted in the same thing but that realization has done nothing.  In fact, it has gotten worse over the last few years.  I don’t understand it.

This past week I was reminded of a time when I was trapped in a bathroom for 1 ½ hours.  I don’t remember being especially scared but I certainly remember not liking it.  Then, a few hours after remembering that, I saw Cora walk by.  Well, it wasn’t her because she passed away a couple of years ago but it sure looked like her.  It was Cora’s bathroom that I was trapped in.  It was weird that these two things happened so close together.  When things like this happen, I always wonder what God is doing.  I wish I knew.

What I do know is that just telling this story was difficult for me.  Reliving it as I wrote it made my heart pound and my breathing fast.  I’ve had to take three breaks.  I also know that I need counseling on this but, ironically, as a counselor I am having to work my way there emotionally.  I know that the road to healing is paved with a lot of revealing.  I know that God is working but I sure don’t know His plan.  I was reminded in church this morning of something Charles H. Spurgeon said, “When you can’t trace God’s hand, trust His heart.”  I’m trusting.

“Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in you.
Show me the way I should go,
for to you I entrust my life.”

Psalm 143:8

To My Younger Me

May 3, 2016

I’ve known I would write this particular blog post for over two years.  I just haven’t been able to approach the emotion in it.  But, today, the stars have aligned.

I have written before about my history of childhood sexual abuse.  At this point in my life and healing, I accept it as part of me and I use it to my advantage in counseling.  I have a heart for women survivors of sexual abuse and my experience helps me relate on a deeper level with them.  I can honestly say that I feel I have healed from this but like all scars, it never totally goes away.

About three years ago, I started a Celebrate Recovery step study.  We were in the early steps and we were working on the inventory, which is an accounting of our hurts, both inflicted and received.  The abuse, which isn’t usually on my mind, was on my mind a lot then.  A friend asked if I would talk with a child (and her mom) who had gone through sexual abuse because she thought it would help her to talk to someone who has come through it.  I agreed.

During the conversation, I think we all felt relatively comfortable.  It was not difficult for me, except for when we talked about porn.  By the time I got home, though, it was different.  It was so difficult.  I remember lying in bed crying and talking to Tim.  “What’s wrong?” he asked.  “It was just so hard.”  I couldn’t describe what I felt.  I couldn’t put words to the emotions.  I know that part of it was sadness for me as a child.  In processing it the next day, it was suggested to me that I was having, what Brene Brown would call, a vulnerability hangover.  That was definitely part of it.  With the step study, with a couple of clients that I had at that time, and with talking with the girl, I was thinking about my own abuse way more than I was used to doing!  I also realized that that conversation was much more than me, the adult, talking to the child; it was my “inner child” talking to the child. 

Fast-forward three years to the annual Christian Counselors of Texas conference.  Greg Miller, the director of Men of Valor Intensives with Faithful & True and our keynote speaker, presented on sexual addiction and recovery.  He spoke on the “3 Internal Voices.”  The Child Voice is innocent, naïve, trusting, vulnerable, and authentic.  The Survivor Voice is manipulative, deceptive, shameful, hiding, and isolated.  The Wise Adult Voice is founded in identity in Christ, knows strengths and limitations, is present and engaged, and is interdependent and emotionally free.  One of the key elements of the Wise Adult is the role of re-parenting the little child.  I have thought so much about this model since the conference in February (and there will be more blogs about it)!  God bless you, Greg Miller, for making me think, teaching me so much, and for being a sounding board to my thoughts since the conference!

Fast-forward again to today.  After thinking about (and avoiding) this blog post for so long, it has been on my mind a lot lately.  On my way to work this morning, a song by MercyMe came on the radio.  I’ve never heard it before and I was sure it was brand new.  I replayed it about five times during my drive because I knew God was working on me.  It brought tears to my eyes.  Not tears of pain but of relief.  It brought the missing piece that allows me to write today.  My conversation that day with the girl was my inner child talking to her.  But it was also my Wise Adult talking to my inner child saying, “You are ok.  You are whole.  You are loved.”  It was the re-parenting that Greg spoke of at the conference.

In thinking back about that night after the conversation, I very much remember the conundrum of feelings I had.  I couldn’t describe it then; I just knew it was a lot of emotions.  Part of me chose to wait to write about it because I knew I needed a little distance and I didn’t know how to fully make sense of it.  Today, God showed me it was time.  I know this may sound like an odd combination (hence the word “conundrum”) but the emotions I felt were sadness for my inner child, gratitude for my Wise Adult, a vulnerability that felt like I had been split wide open, and a relief from releasing a little more of the abuse.  There is a part of me that still feels like there is something else to be identified here but, when the time is right, God will reveal it like He has before.

When I think about the abuse, I count myself healed but I also know that there will always be more healing to do.  Wounds leave scars and, even when that scar is healed, sometimes it still hurts.  At each step of the way, though, I am coming closer to who God meant for me to be.

The song I heard this morning is MercyMe’s “Dear Younger Me.”  I hope it blesses you like it did me.

You are holy. You are righteous.

You are one of the redeemed.

Set apart a brand new heart

You are free indeed.

Every mountain every valley

Through each heartache you will see

Every moment brings you closer

To who you were meant to be.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=An-Im0LL0XU

Being a Tulip

Jan. 30, 2016

Thoughts about creativity and how it relates to vulnerability have been running through my head lately.  These two go hand in hand.  It is impossible to be creative and not be vulnerable.  Being creative is risky.  Sharing a new idea in a meeting or with a group of people is scary stuff!  You are laying out your “new baby” for everyone to see, knowing full well that someone could say, “That baby is ugly.”  If that happens enough, you soon learn to not take the risk; you learn to keep your mouth shut.  Sometimes, it just takes experiencing this one time for you to clam up and not share your ideas ever again.

Claude Monet and Edgar Degas were founders of the Impressionistic style.  But, did you know, that the term was originally an insult to the style?  “You can’t really paint, that’s just your impression of that landscape!”  Monet and Degas and others were told their babies were ugly.  Instead of shrinking away, they kept at it.  They kept painting.  They stayed open even though you know the disapproving sneers had to hurt.  But, by being and remaining open, people began to take a better look and they saw the beauty of their paintings.

Last week, I gave a great friend a dozen dark pink tulips.  They were beautiful in color and had not yet begun to spread their petals.  The next day, the petals opened and revealed a stunning inner beauty.  At the bottom of the cup (tulips look like pretty cups to me), was an unexpected splash of teal.  She said no one really commented on her flowers until the blooms opened in all their glory.  They were pretty before but when they opened up they were incredible!

I am sure there is some Bible verse that goes along with this writing.  But thinking of one at this point seems like proof-texting.  Maybe you had a verse pop in mind as you read this and, if so, put it in the comments.  For me, what I would really like to focus on is two points.  One, we are all tulips.  We each have a stunning inner beauty.  Knowing that it is risky, the choice is yours whether to show it or not.  I hope you do.  Second, when we see someone else’s tulip opening, when we witness that vulnerability, we must treat it gently and tenderly.   Whether you like what you see or not, whether you think it is a good idea or not, the vulnerability is a thing of beauty.

Abundantly Beyond All That We Ask

Jan. 5, 2016

About 4 ½ years ago, we picked out a timid-hearted, cute-as-could-be schnauzer puppy.  We got her for Kelsey and she has truly been a Godsend for Kelsey and our family.  We picked her for Kelsey but, as it turns out, Sophie picked me.  I’ve heard before how dogs pick their people but I never put much stock in it.  Now I now it’s true.  Sophie blatantly prefers me over the rest of the family, even to a point that seems rude (such as Tim will call her up into the chair with him and she will jump into my lap instead).

So, you would think that Sophie’s preference would be to sleep with me too.  Not so.  She sleeps with Kelsey.  She started out sleeping in her kennel (aka her castle, because she is a princess, you know) and she has grown to sleeping on Kelsey’s bed.  She loves it in there.  That is her place, it’s her routine.  In fact, she asks to go to bed.  The kicker comes when Kelsey is gone for the night.  I can’t even coax her into sleeping with me.  She will not come if I call her.  She gets ugly if I pick her up and take her to my room.  She runs out like she is escaping prison.

Kelsey was gone last night so I tried once again to coax Sophie into my room.  What’s not to like in the MASTER bedroom?  There are two people instead of just one to love on her, it’s a Temper-pedic mattress.  For Pete’s sake, I, the preferred one, am in there!  But, no, she would have none of it.  In fact, Sophie made a beeline straight to Kelsey’s room.  I went in there curious to see which bed she chose: the kennel or the bed.  She chose the kennel.

I say all this because as I stood there looking at her in her kennel, I wondered just how often I turn down the Master’s deluxe offerings all the while thinking that I had the best I could get.  Or, how often did I lose a dream I had only to get a better one God had for me?  How often do I stay stuck in my nice, comfortable routine and miss what God is offering?

Once upon a time, I had a crush on someone.  But he didn’t have one on me.  But God had a better dream for me: Tim.  I once dreamed of being an architect.  God had a better calling for me: counseling and teaching.  I had a dream of good health for both of my kids.  That dream has not been realized the last 5 ½ years.  Other dreams have been fulfilled, though.  I dreamed of a strong relationship with Kelsey.  I dreamed of my kids having a close relationship.  I dreamed of strong faith in my kids.

I have to admit, though, if I am to be completely honest, that it can seem like a steep cost to realize these dream which then makes me wonder if God still has something else planned … another greater dream.  I have to say I wonder if I am still in the kennel or am I lying on the Master’s bed.  Is that being ungrateful to wonder, “Is there more?”  Or, is it a pragmatic realization that God can always do better than I can imagine?

This reminds me of Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians.  He spent six verses (Eph. 3:14-19) praying for the Ephesians and for their faith to grow and deepen.  Then, in verses 20-21, he goes beyond asking for his own dreams and says, “Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think, according to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and ever. Amen.”

My challenge, my pledge, for the New Year, is to pray this way.  I will ask for what is on my heart, I will be thankful for what I have, I will acknowledge God for who He is, and, in that, I will ask for His dream to be filled rather than mine.

“God is Able” by Hillsong
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTSknArjnWM