Guilt or Conviction?

Ugh.  I'm pretty sure God is trying to "help" me grow and become a "better person."

I say this sarcastically because I'm not liking it.

It stinks. It's difficult.  And frustrating.  Plus annoying. This growing stuff plain stinks and won't go away.

Almost daily I'm contemplating just walking away.  I self-righteously feel like it would be a ballsy move that I would almost be justified in making... Except for the fact that when I think about it I feel a pang in my heart. Conviction. 

Ah, conviction.  How sweet and unassuming you begin.

First, it's knowing in my head; but I can easily ignore that.  Feelings are much more fun to deal with. "Fun."  HA!

Second, that head knowledge starts to infiltrate my mind even AFTER I decided to ignore it.  (And that's just plain rude.)

Then, I let the head knowledge simmer just a bit.  Just enough to acknowledge that I know what I SHOULD do and should NOT do.

Sometimes I make good choices.  Sometimes not so good ones.  This is when guilt tries to come into play; but I do know that guilt is not how God works.  God works in the love and grace department while satan's ambitions are to make us feel all the more worse - and this usually results in more bad choices.

So by grace the guilt is removed and replaced by Godly conviction.

Godly conviction is the urging to do what I don't want to do even though I know it's the right thing to do. Godly conviction doesn't condemn. Instead it reminds me of the goodness of God and that it's something to be shared. 

So here I am.  Conviction is painted all over the place. I'm going to do my best to make the right choice today.  And hopefully I will choose to make the right choice again tomorrow.

The Karev Issue

Feeling rejected is the worst.  Especially when it's from someone close.

For me, it was my husband.

I didn't know that's what I was feeling in the moments, though.  I did feel angry and my body language said that much.  But it was late and Mr. Sexy was tired so he gave up and went to sleep.

I stewed for a bit.  Then decided to ask myself, why? What has happened to make me feel angry? 

Hurt was the next emotion that came to mind.  I was feeling hurt.  He went to sleep, after all.  He went to sleep when I wanted to snuggle and kiss on him.

He rejected me. 

Now it's time for some background:

Over and over again I have to learn that sometimes my body language alone does not get my point across to him. Sometimes I have to be a little bit more aggressive.  Sometimes I have to actually say what I want - out loud.  Weird, right? Yet, this is my struggle.

What if I tell him I would enjoy some intimate kissy-face and he declined? 
What if I was more aggressive and he shrugged me off? 
What if...?

These insecurities were not bred from my relationship with my husband.  They were bred from the relationships preceding my husband. 

As Mr. Sexy fell asleep and I struggled with feeling hurt, I dug a little deeper into myself.

When has hurt me in this way? 

Answer: He hasn't.

So why the struggle?  The same struggle for three years?

Fact is, this hasn't been a struggle for only three years.  It goes deeper and wider than that.

As I was deeply thinking all this through, I had Grey's Anatomy re-runs on.  I love that show.  I love almost everything about it.  Because I love it so much, I have gotten really into the characters.  This particular episode revolved around Alex Karev.

Alex Karev has a history of putting up walls that make him appear as something he is not.  When he finally lets someone get through, what they find is a very sensitive person who feels deeply and loves passionately.

I decided that I am a bit like the character Alex Karev. For many - even for members of the family I grew up with - what is seen are the walls I build around myself.  I am labeled as defensive, hard to talk to, unteachable, rude, and I'm sure there are more. So when that's what others see and they tell me so, that's what I start to see as well.

Thank God I have a husband who is able to penetrate those walls and see somebody different.  Somebody he really, really loves.  Somebody he sees as beautiful, loving and caring.  I do put walls back up for him from time to time.  But he knows.  He always knows.  While it isn't easy for us to get past those walls, we are able to do it.  Together.  He sees the me God created me to be. 

God is working on these walls.  He is teaching me that in Him, there doesn't need to be fear. While there will be pain, there will also be joy.  But until I'm willing to stop building, it doesn't look like I will get to experience the joy that only comes from God.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and make me willing to obey you. 

Psalms 51:12

Fear or Obedience?

I logged into blogger this morning with the intent to unpublish my recent post, Girls, Let's Leap!  Then I read some of the comments and I decided, well, this is all part of the story.  So I'm writing instead.

In my current state of mind, I'm embarrassed by what I shared recently.  In the moments I felt led by the Holy Spirit to bring everything I have to the table.  Now, I'm not so sure I heard correctly. I feel like I made a mistake.

Perhaps I need to grow a thicker skin.  I thought I had, but either it's still growing or it wasn't there to begin with.

Perhaps my life is better shared intimately by a therapist, rather than a group of people who don't know me or my family very well. 

I say this over and over again: I try to share my struggles as openly as possible to bring light to the sins, for accountability, and to make it known to others that they are not alone in the harsh  dealings of a fallen world. 

So, I'm constantly torn between fear of the world and obedience to what it seems I'm being led to do. Today, I'm giving in to the fear just a bit.  I'm an imperfect person.  Tomorrow, or even later today, hopefully I will decide to lay that fear at Christ's feet.

Girls, Let's Leap!

I'm sitting in a small group surrounded by women whom I have just met hours ago.  One by one, questions are asked by our leader.  The answers are slow coming and, for the most part, shallow.  Then one takes her leap of faith.  As her story unfolds, I feel tense and motionless. All I can see are her pained eyes and all I can see is  the beauty of her heart yearning for Jesus. As her tears begin to flow I feel my own cheeks warm up and my hands get clammy. This is uncomfortable. Yet I'm still captured by her gut wrenching honesty.  Then she speaks of a deep pain, an emotional burden, and I feel my own eyes fill with hot tears. Of course, I do the fast blinking thing and hope nobody is watching me and the emotions that threaten to bubble to the surface.  I must look away.  My heart can't take much more without a breakdown of my own...

Why is other's pain uncomfortable for the rest of us?

I am inspired to explore this question from Rory's comment on my post, A Process of Healing.

"God sees your heart dear friend... others, mostly see what they want to see, or look right past you because they have their own hurt to hide. Pain makes people uncomfortable, but if we all did better at sharing out burdens: then we could see one another as He does." 

This morning I took my own leap of faith.  I spilled my guts and left nothing out. Every woman listening now knows the truth about me.

I blow up when things don't go right.
Beer or vodka are how I nurse myself through the pain.
I am generally struggling with anger that spills out into every area of my life.
And, obviously, the presence of God feels far from me.

Saying all these things wasn't easy. I felt warm and sweaty all over. My voice felt shaky and I wondered if this was all too much too soon.  I was uncomfortable.

For me, there were a few commonalities in hearing someone's struggle and sharing my own:

Nervousness.
Emotional connection.
Freedom.

The last one stands out to me.  Freedom. There is freedom in sharing our lives with each other. The woman I talked about at the beginning gave our group the opportunity to pray for her and watch God work in her heart in those moments and possibly in the time to come.

Did you ever think about it being a blessing to be able to pray for someone so intimately?
I hadn't thought of it that way, either.

But it is, because that's what I was told this morning after showcasing my dirty laundry.

As strange as it seems, even to me, there CAN be freedom in Christ.  I haven't always experienced that freedom, though. But maybe I was doing it wrong.  Or perhaps I had to be THERE to be HERE.

I grew up in church.
I have been loved by church people.
I have been hurt by church people.
Church is made up of people.  One of them is me.

Sharing our burdens is hard.  It's hard to watch and it's hard to do.

But if we can each begin to take our leap of faith, even just one at a time, think about how much stronger the church can be. 

I am not alone in my fits of temper.
I am not the only one who uses alcohol to numb and ignore the pain.
I am not the only angry woman.
I am not the only one feeling far from God.

But with one leap, I am one step closer to a renewed heart.  

So, leap with me girls! 

A Process of Healing

Open wounds still hurt.

I have wondered why some things still keep me up at night in a frustrated trance. Perhaps it's because the wound(s) never really healed.  In fact, that makes a lot of sense.

Yet, how can I heal when the wound is being hit again and again and again? Band aids get ripped off in my sleep.  In other instances, my poor choices start the bleeding all over again. I'm at fault as much as anyone.  In fact, perhaps I'm the most at fault - if not the only one.

I am in charge of me, my emotions and my actions.  Nothing comes from my mouth that I didn't really want to say somewhere deep down in my sinful nature.



I still feel the twinge from lost and hurt relationships. While I know that God can heal what is broken, it feels that, in the world I live in, what is broken will stay broken.  I alone can only do so much.

I believe in a church family.  There have been times when that family cut me down, once again preventing a wound to heal. I lost faith in people.  I doubted goodness that might come from church.  I felt eyes on me everywhere.  Watching.  Waiting for an excuse to call me out on the mistakes I was bound to make.

Do you know what that's like?  To live in fear of who you thought was closest to you?  It's a constant battle.  Do I smile or appear stoic? Do I sit here or there? Should I speak or save it for the comfort of my own home? Should I break down in front of everyone or continue to shove the torment deep inside to appear put together?  Hopefully, if done right, the eyes will stop watching... One day...

Fear.  Rejection.  I know the meaning of these words all to well.  They are the open wounds that continue to bleed.

Yet somehow, my faith prevails today. My faith in the goodness of people is being renewed.  This wasn't my idea.  I didn't try to accept the goodness of others.  In fact, I was ready to deny it.

It's just that God has His Perfect Timing.  Last year, when we moved into the woods, I wasn't ready to be openly vulnerable again.  I don't know why God isolated me.  But He new better than I or Mr. Sexy.  What we needed was time and space to grow in our marriage and in our family. Our marriage still isn't everything it can be although it has deepened tremendously. Our family is still in pieces.

But we're trying.  We're working.  We're moving forward.

It makes no sense that I should once again open myself up to people in church and show them the scum that I see inside myself.  But I am doing it.  It's wonderfully painful.

Eyes will continue to watch - even if it's just from a distance.  I will not make good choices all the time.  In fact, I made some not so great ones already this morning.

But for some reason, I'm able to once again try to move forward.

I want the wounds to heal.  I want my marriage to be all that it can be.  I want my family to be whole.

I'm holding onto...

5 minutes of unedited writing on the topic: hold

Starts NOW:

I like to hold on to things.  If I'm not careful, I could become quite a pack rat. However right now I'm thinking more of the internal things I hold on to.  And if I were to take the time to think, I wonder how much of a pack rat I am. 

I like to hold on to what I feel will give me power.  Bitterness. Pride. Anger. Those are only a few of my areas.  Yup, MY areas. I'm gettin' real over here. 

So what happens when I hold onto these - let's just call it what it is - sins? What happens in my heart? What comes out of my mouth?  How do I see the world? What are my hands doing? 

Nothing postive, I'll tell you that much. 

I'm not alone in holding onto these things.  We all do it to some degree, am I right?  Or am I puffing smoke?  (too much caffeine this morning I think) It's frustrating to me when I give in to satan's lies of power. What do I really want with power anyways? What am I going to do with it?  Nothing positive, that's for sure. 

There is a reason God has the ultimate power.  It's interesting to me that the same sinful desires of Adam and Eve are still so extremely relevant today.  In my own life.  And probably in other people's lives as well. 

That 5 minutes flew by fast!  I feel like it's messy but oh well.  Life is messy.  We are messy. That's part of the fun, right?

True or false?

More specifically, is the Bible true?  Or is it just a bunch of old and somewhat interesting stories?  Are some stores true and the rest fabricated? 

Mr. Sexy and I rented the new movie, Noah, over the weekend.  It was different than I expected in some ways.  It was better in others.  I'm glad I knew to start the movie with an open mind of someone else's interpretation of the Noah's Ark story. I understand the need/desire to change details or fill in the gaps in order to make a film a blockbuster. 

There are three main things I walked away with after watching. 

1. Some of the details were obviously not in line with the original story.  Other details, well, who knows?  It's sometimes fun to let our imaginations put the pieces together. 

2. Noah and his family were human.  Disgustingly human, even.  You will have to see the movie yourself to see why I use the term, "disgustingly human." 

3. Hollywood's version of Bible stories will generally not be shown to my kids until they know the true story well enough to know the difference between truth and imagination. 

This then begs the question, is the story of Noah true at all?  If not, what about the rest of the stories? Can we decided that some stories are too far fetched but the others could possibly have happened? 

I grew up with all the famous Bible stories and characters. Eventually I got to a point when I had to decide if it was true or not. Jonah being swallowed by a whale and surviving?  Two of every single animal on a boat with the one "perfect" family left while everyone else was essentially murdered?  A father ready to murder his own son?  Incest? Even now, as I make this list, I am thinking of how much the world hasn't changed.  The problems, at their core, remain the same. 

I have decided that the Bible is true from beginning to end with everything in the middle. I have not yet been able to justify that Noah's story would be made up and Jesus' story was not. I have to believe all of it or none of it.  When I tried to pick what I wanted to believe as truth, I tried to disregard what I didn't want to hear. But in the end, I couldn't justify that kind of faith.  In fact, that wasn't faith at all. 

The Bible is complicated.  The stories are difficult to understand. I still struggle with the "why's." Some of the stories I would rather not know because I can't imagine what it would have been like.  But it's all part of history.  It's God's story to us, for us and about us. 

I have been enjoying Hollywood's portrayal of the stories I grew up with and I hope the trend continues. As imperfect as their portrayals might be, I enjoy seeing "perfect" Bible story characters I have heard about my whole life becoming human and therefore, more relate-able. 

Broken Bondage

Mr. Sexy

Mr. Sexy and I got married three years ago. As time moved forward, Mr. Sexy moved slower and complained more. I could see the pain when he went to pick up our baby girl. Life struggles were being written on his face as his under eyes darkened and tension rarely left him. This tension would, at times, spin out of control. We both made choices we now regret. 

After three years of marriage, he is a changed man. 

My new term for him is, "bouncy."  He smiles more and laughs easier. He now sleeps through the night - although he still tends to snore. His thinking is clear and he can smell the flowers he brings home for me as well as the weird musty smell in our mini van. He picks me up without wincing in pain and will rub my back until I fall asleep. This is the man I married.  

His story starts now: 



I lay there breathing heavy in a cold sweat; my mind, lost in a terror tormenting my soul. While my eyes move rapidly I hear the taunts and laughter of others berating me with insults of how pathetic and worthless I am. I awake in a panic, fighting through the fog, trying to discover if that horror is just another dream, or are my secrets now exposed to the world.

For many years this has been my nightmare.

What were my secrets?

Lust, worthlessness, pride, judgement and lack of self-control.


I will never forget the first time I discovered lust. I will also never forget the iron grip it had on me since I was a teen.


I am not able to recall where the feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness began, but I could sit here for days recounting stories of how those controlled me.


Racing thoughts threw blessings by others back into their faces as pride mastered my thoughts. 

I can do anything. 
I don't need any help. 
I hate you for helping me.


If you were in my range of vision, you were judged.

On a scale of 1 to 10, you are a 2 so I don't trust you. 
If you would exercise more you wouldn't be so fat and disgusting.
If only you took care of your body then I would listen to you.
I don't care if you are a child of God, you are ugly so I don't trust you.

On the other hand;

Wow, you are hot!
What do I have to do to get you to like me?
What do you want me to do? 
I will do anything for you because my preconceived judgement based on your outward appearances told me I can trust you.


Good or bad, I threw away all self control and put forth all my effort into anything and everything.

Eat, eat, and eat.
Play, play, and play.
Drink, drink and drink.
Work, work, and work.
Spend, spend and spend.
Sacrifice, sacrifice, and sacrifice.
Workout, workout, and workout.

To what end? It didn't matter. No limits. No boundaries. No wisdom.


Each one of these secrets - let's just call them what they are - sins, gave foothold in my life. Since before I can remember satan's mercenaries began to destroy me.

For many years I allowed the whispers of his demons to persuade my decisions and actions. But that wasn't enough for him. His mission was to kill and destroy me, not simply lead me down troubled paths.

I must give credit to the influence of my family and friends.  Even through my stupid life choices, they were the voice of God guiding me back on the right path. Because of this, the enemy had to get more drastic. The question was, if berating me daily wasn't going to destroy me, then what would?


My body.

I was in sports growing up and I remember being coached to breathe in through my nose and out my mouth. As a young man, my nose was so "clogged" I could never do this without gasping for air. Instead, I fought through the discomfort and did the best I could.

When I joined the Navy in 2002, they were determined to figure out why I couldn't breathe properly through my nose. Twelve years later the best they ever did was diagnose me with Chronic Sinusitis. I went through two surgeries and every ENT medication I could think of with no resolution.

So I decided to live with it.

It was my neck that was killing me.  No, it was my back. No, my hips. My hands. My ankles. Name a joint and it hurt. There were no triggers and no explanation. I went to specialists from Texas to California to Idaho to Washington. They all had the same response: *Shrug of shoulders.* I have given so much blood in lab tests that I am convinced they are cloning me! (OK not really). The pain at times would be so bad in my hands that the simple act of picking up my cell phone felt impossible.


Sleep.

More accurately, my lack of sleep. I was diagnosed with sleep apnea with no medical explanation behind it. On a good night, where I was absolutely exhausted, I would sleep for eight hours with only waking up five or six times. On a normal night I would sleep for six hours and wake up at least every hour - if not more. Some nights I would just give up and stare at the TV.  This had been going on for 15 years.  Coffee was my drug of choice.

Three years ago, my wife and I read the book Spiritual Warfare by Karl Payne. Everything changed. You can read about her experience in the post: Gear Up: We are in War. Recently Payne held a seminar at our home church; we almost didn't go, but what I discovered was that there may be more to my physical pain than the medical world could explain.

I had consistently lost battles with satan and his mercenaries.  I had given them footholds into my life, allowing them to wreak havoc in trying to destroy me.

It was time to fight with my Father's authority!

Weeks later I sat down in my pastor's office and we began to talk.  I was an open book.  There was nothing to hide because there was nothing to fear.

As he began to lay down the ground rules, my heart started to race and thoughts of mockery flooded my mind. Pastor instructed me to read Bible verses, establishing God's authority over satan. I had no idea what I was reading and assumed my mouth and voice were making the right sounds. The noises in my head flooded any chance of understanding the words on the page.

Pastor and I began to work through the process.  My mind quieted except when answering questions by our pastor directed to the tormentors. There was no imagination, no work on my part. I simply stated what I heard.

After cleaning house of all satan's mercenaries, I asked the Holy Spirit to fill any voids.

I was overwhelmed with joy and peace.

I COULD BREATHE!

The joy was so pure, my eyes welled up with tears.

24 hours later I was still discovering little joys of life that I hadn't had in more years than I can remember.

Today, I can still breathe clearly.

Today,  I have no joint pain.

Today, I smiled remembering the dreams I had last night.

I know the fight isn't over.  I am developing tools to keep the ground I regained.

As a society we have become afraid to talk or even acknowledge the topic of spiritual warfare. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that not only is it real, but with The Father on our side, we have nothing to fear, but only to rejoice.

Church: Is it bad or good?

A few weeks ago I wrote a post about Gossip.  I may have given the impression that church is a bad place to be.  This is not true and I hope that's not the impression I left my readers with.

As a church-goer my entire life, I have enough faith to know that it's not church that is the problem.  It's the people.  The sinners.  People like me and you.  And me.  Depending on who you talk to, the story can shift on who was in the right and who was leaning toward the wrong.  I am already able to allow thoughts of forgiveness and letting go to roll through my mind regardless of who was right or wrong.  Maybe there was no right or wrong.  It was a judgement call.  And it sucked.

While my recent wounds heal I won't be attending my home church when I visit. I still love my church family and I love my pastors.  But right now, my trust in what a church family is supposed to be is a bit broken.

Today we attended our local church for the first time in months (camping tends to take up a lot of summer weekends).  We left feeling tremendously blessed.  We attended Sunday School where I was able to be a little bit vulnerable in sharing how hard this co-parenting/marriage/parenting/care taking/Christian thing is.  And then later a friend gave me her number with the demand that I call so she can watch our kids while Mr. Sexy and I have a much needed date night.

It was a good day.

But even with the good stuff, I couldn't help but wonder who was watching as I sat next to Marie and whispered in her ear.

Did I look angry? 
Did I look mean? 
Is Marie responding to me ok? 
Are we attracting attention? 
Who is watching?

All that fear is from Satan.  I know that.  But it's still there nonetheless.

Mr. Sexy and I are continuing with our weekly family counseling.  We are also continuing to explore the spiritual elements which I talked about in my recent post: Gear up: We are in War.  There will be more on that subject later this week.

Gear Up: We are in war.

I BEGAN to lose trust in my dad at a young age.  While my heart yearned for things I didn't understand, I instead received distance. Even today, a trust between father and daughter is broken.

Can the rift be mended?

Hopefully. One day. And only through the healing power of God.

Details surrounding the hurt I carry from my father are irrelevant at this point. I struggle to know how to share my story and I don't do it perfectly, if well at all.  My intent is not to blaspheme my father's name. Instead, I wish to share how God is working in my life.  It seems the relationship I have with my father is playing a significant role.

*With broken trust comes hurt. 

Hurt is typically followed closely by anger. 

Anger, when not dealt with properly, gives the devil an opportunity for footholds. 


THREE years ago I was introduced to the realities of spiritual warfare. Mr. Sexy and I had been married for three months. We were sitting in our pastor's office for our post marital counseling (he does this with all couples he marries). With five minutes left to our session, something burst inside me.  I held nothing back. I displayed the hurt and anger through a rush of tears. I openly shared the mistakes I was making. I described how I felt on the brink of losing control of my life. I felt emotionally naked and exposed, my face red from crying, as my pastor listened and my brand new husband rubbed my back.

Pastor* new exactly what was going on.

"Now, I don't want you to throw anything at me.  This is just a possibility."  He paused. "But have you considered the possibility that this is demonic?"

Everything inside me quieted in that moment.  It felt scary to admit aloud, but speaking truth isn't always easy.  The truth was that I felt an evil.  Using harsh words to cut others down had become the same as breathing to me.  Perverse thoughts poisoned my mind all the time.  And then there was the anger.  The anger which felt overwhelming most of the time pushed me to my breaking point.

After finally speaking the truths about the person I was becoming, a lifeline dropped and I wasn't about to let it go.

Pastor sent me home with assignments to be completed before we met again.  First, I was to read a book, Spiritual Warfare by Dr. Karl Payne. The second was to study Galations 5:19-21, Mark 7:21-23 and Colossians 3:5-8. I was to spend time in these passages and make a list of the sins where the enemy may have footholds. For me, my list looked something like this: anger, hate, fear, lust, pride, selfishness.

Getting through all my homework wasn't easy. Countless doubts were hurled in my direction. As I studied, I fought against the liars disguising themselves as my own thoughts.

This is absurd. 
Demons?  Yeah right!  This is silly.
There is no way you are going through with this.  It's a little insane. 

The drive to my next appointment felt worse. My hands were warm and clammy. My stomach was topsy turvy. My fingers and toes were dancing. All I wanted to do was turn around. But Mr. Sexy wouldn't have it. Instead, he spent the entire ride combating the doubts pouring from my lips.

The enemy was running scared.

We made it to Pastor's office. We talked over my homework a bit. Then we got down to business.

Pretty quick after we got started with the ground rules, I realized I wasn't able to see or hear clearly. My vision had been blurred, as if someone changed the lens focus. Pastor's voice had become muffled.  It sounded like I was far away from him, behind a closed door or maybe underwater.

"Um, Pastor, I can't really see or hear anything right now."

Pastor firmly reminded the demons that I was in control of my body, not them. I was also under instruction to look into Pastor's eyes and not let them sway again. It sounds strange, but it worked. I didn't lose focus again.  In fact, as we moved on from the ground rules, I felt less and less afraid.

The entire process took about an hour. There was no yelling or screaming. It was more like a conversation. It was definitely the strangest conversation I had ever had. Here's how it worked:

Pastor asked questions and I answered based on what I heard in my head. 

Does that sound loony?  I get that, believe me. But isn't that what satan wants us to think?

Perhaps I made up answers.  Perhaps I made up this entire story. I can't control where your mind goes with all this.  But you can do your own research and study and come up with your own conclusions.

Each demon we spoke to named themselves. I remember being embarrassed about the one who named himself, "Boobs." And then another had an entirely normal name, "Alicia," or something like that. Although they were bound by different names, they had one objective: to destroy and kill me by using my sins against me.

After we cleaned house, the vacated rooms (an analogy from Spiritual Warfare) needed to be refilled. I praised and thanked God for what He had done for me. I asked for His Spirit to fill up the empty spaces.   And it was over.

My spirit had been renewed. I went in to battle, and I won.

There would be more fights, however.  Satan would no doubt send more of his soldiers my way. I would need to fight daily to keep my rooms filled with the Holy Spirit.

But then - soon after this victory - something happened.

Then something else happened.

Then something else.

Something else.

Something...

Something else just kept happening. Sometimes it was huge, other times it seemed rather small. I have no idea when that first dart hit me and I let it stick.



I ONLY know that I'm now back where I was three years ago. The enemy has been much more stealthy this time around. However, I am also smarter than I was. I am confident in the authority that I have in Jesus Christ. Although it took me a while to figure out I have been losing the battle, I know that I still stand on solid ground. The enemy won't be winning for much longer.


I opened this piece talking about a broken relationship.  I have blamed my dad for a lot of years for a lot of things.  I have carried hurt and resentment close to my heart.  The truth is that my dad isn't the problem.  I am.

With broken trust comes hurt. 

Hurt is typically followed closely by anger. 

Anger, when not dealt with properly, gives the devil an opportunity for footholds. 

I am the one with the bitterness of an unforgiving heart.  I am the one who, once again, opened doors and invited the enemy to come and stay.



*This concept was learned from Counter Attack.

*His name is irrelevant.

"My objective for writing this book was to clearly communicate a message and material that a new Christian can understand and that a warrior can use."

"Daily, the enemy attacks us with anger, immorality and priorities that push God out of the picture - but how do we fight an adversary that we can't see?"

Gossip

It's such a cliche term, right?

At least, I used to think so.

However the past 3 years have shown me how costly a "cliche" term, such as gossip, can be.

I have lost best friends.  Yup.  That's plural.

A few of my best friends had some concerns for me and my family.  Instead of approaching me and my husband, they met in secret with each other.  They gave us an ultimatum: I leave my house or they call the cops.

Was something that drastic necessary?  No.  We were already neck deep in counseling and learning to be a family.  Did I mention yet that we had been a family for only 3 months?

One of my friends apologized (that same night actually) and saw how things took a turn for the worse.  However, that relationship never was the same.  And it pains me even today.

My other friend lied to me and my husband.  They called the cops even after I went to stay at my parent's house as they had demanded.

Have you ever felt such a violation?  In those moments of being driven away from my family by my brand new husband, I had nobody.  At least, that's what the big feelings told me.

When the cop showed up at my house he expressed sorrow to my husband for our predicament.  My family was eating dinner - without me - and our house was immaculately cleaned and ready for Marie's birthday party the next day.  The cop had no cause for concern and told Mr. Sexy how he often gets calls like these.  Calls that amount to nothing.

But my family was left in pieces.  Pieces we seem to still be picking up. 


Some time goes by.  I can't think how long.  This part is jumbled.

A blog I used to have became some sort of small internet sensation.  One person, a "troll" is what I think they are called, saw a few pieces I had written and wrote disgusting things on her blog about me.  She used my site address, my name and any other personal information she could find.  She had a very large readership.  Soon friends and family were getting emails calling me despicable names.  The cops were called and CPS became involved.

All this happened because of gossip.

Around that same time some people from my home church called my family pastor with concerns for me and Marie.

This was a church I called family.  I grew up there.  Many knew my family well.  Yet they still had the audacity to go behind my back.  Gossip.  

Again, there was betrayal and the feeling of being violated.

Church is supposed to be safe.  Church is supposed to reserve judgement.  Church is supposed to be about people.



Fast forward to right now.

My family moved away from that area one year ago.  It was a difficult move but the right one.  However I have missed my church tremendously.  So this past weekend we went to their family camp.

We had a wonderful time.  It was exactly what our family was needing.  Marie and I had many good moments together.  She talked to me and we played together and laughed together.  Family tensions were put at rest and I was able to practice letting go of control.  At times it was difficult.  But I had the support of my husband.  I had the support of my church family.

Or did I?

It seems someone has once again gone to the pastor to express concerns. 

Now, at this point, if I were you, I would be thinking, "There must be cause for some sort of concern if this keeps happening."

But really?

The betrayal.  The violation of my family.  Every single instance is brought back all at once.  

I can't breathe.  My heart is beating hard and fast.  I'm shaking and I feel nervous.

Trust is becoming a thing of the past for me.

 I have 4 friends that I can still trust with the realities of my life.  My husband is one of them.  The other is a strong believer and has been my rock over and over again.  The other two don't regularly attend church although I will pass no judgments on their religious standpoints. They are better friends than many of my Christian friends. This is my circle.  These four people have chosen to address concerns to me and my husband directly.  I know this because it has happened!  And you know what?  We are better friends for it!  

Gossip is no cliche.  Gossip tears relationships apart.  It rips up families and wears down a person.

I am feeling worn down.  I want to give up the fight.  And that is just where Satan wants me.  

But praise God my husband has recently been lifted from years and years of physical bondage.  He will tell that story soon.  But I have to mention it now.  He is now energized in ways I have not seen in a long time, if ever.  He is showing me compassion, withholding his judgments and loving me if only because Jesus loves me.

I cannot describe the pain I feel.  It's a pain that seems to continue to build each time I face the same battle.

I want the gossip to stop.  Even when it's hard.  I want it to stop.  Because this gossip shit is getting all of us nowhere.  In fact, it's a hot tool that Satan is using in your life, and now,  in my life.

The Cloth Diapering Challenge

Well, once again we ran out of money.  Literally.  We got back from the end of our family vacation time and saw that our bank account was in the red.  This type of situation isn't new to us.  We have struggled through bad decision after bad decision starting from before we got married.

Lately, things haven't been so bad.  We have been (mostly) caught up on bills for the past few months.  We also began to budget  - for real.  I say, "for real," because for a long time we didn't even have enough money to put a working budget together.  We paid what bills we could and then hoped what was left could sustain us till next pay day.

So now we can budget.  I have more than one envelope, I keep all my receipts and record what we spend each month so I can budget even better next time.

You know what's amazing?

Every time we use our envelope system, we have leftover cash.  That leftover cash always went into the savings envelope and for the first time we had some savings! Good thing because we needed it soon after.

The envelope system worked well right up until our family vacation.

Simply put: We didn't budget.  All I knew was what Mr. Sexy told me: We have plenty, let's do whatever we want.  All he knew was: Bills are paid, everything else is extra, let's have a really fun time and not stress.

Well, because we didn't sit down and look through all our bills, we missed a few.

Thus, we ran out of money.


Denai has been in cloth diapers since day one.  It's been great and I have loved loved loved not stressing about the added expenses of disposables.

However, last week her third round of staph infection flared up and it seemed to be the worst we had seen yet.  I actually knew it was coming back by the smell of her urine, but the last time I took her to the doctor, they turned me away because they didn't see it yet.  So I decided to wait this time - even though I knew what was inevitable.

In many ways I felt bad about my role as mommy to her.  The first time she got staph, I should have done more research and realized I needed to strip her diapers.  The second time I shouldn't have given up on my research and stripped them correctly.  Now that this is her third and worst round, I have decided to give cloth a break.

I now know exactly how to strip her diapers for the staph.  But I didn't want to risk anything so I wanted to get her out of cloth asap.

It was no problem.  Before we even went to the doctor we headed to Walgreen's to purchase everything we needed for disposies.  Even though we had no money, it was no problem.  We had our flexible spending card!  Perfecto!

And then we found out: all that was covered were the depends for Marie.  Apparently, diapers and wipes and baby butt cream are not covered like we thought.

It is always stressful to run out of money.  It's even more stressful when one of my kids really needs something but I am unable to provide it.  

I took her to the doctor the next day and asked if they had any diaper samples.  The doctor handed me two diapers: one that fit and another that was obviously too small.  There was no point in those so I just left them there.

While waiting for Denai's prescription, I did what I always do when the stress gets overwhelming.  I called my husband and gave him an ear full.  That's never the smartest move and a lot of times those conversations make our situation even worse.

This time, however, Mr. Sexy reassured me that we would be okay and he would find a way to get Denai some diapers.

He did it. 

An hour and a half later, I picked him up from work and we went to the local hospital birthing center.  Mr. Sexy had called to explain our situation and asked if there was any way they could help.  After verifying with our pediatrician that Denai does have staph - again - they immediately sent someone out to buy us some diapers.

We went home with 120 diapers and 16 or so night time diapers.  

So now, Denai's staph is improving.  She has been in disposies for about three days.

It's different than cloth.  For one thing, she appears much thinner.  Her cloth diapers tended to give her the
bubble butt look.  Another bonus is that I don't have to clean poop 3+ times every day.

But you know what stands out the most?

Mr. Sexy and I made another bad money decision.

Yet God still worked through people and provided what we needed.

Not in my timing.  Not in my way.

It was his timing.  His way.  His story.

So now, every time I change Denai's diaper - even when she screams because her bottom is still sore - I am thankful for the kind people who were willing to allow God to work through them and help us out.

And sometimes, even when we feel unworthy, it's still okay to ask for help.  

What Changed?

Many families can go camping - or go on a number of other activities and vacations - and have a lovely time.  Typically, I would say there is always an amount of stress involved in getting everyone and everything ready to go - especially with small children who "help" or older children who can't be bothered to be removed from personal comfort.  Yet, overall, families move on and have wonderful experiences together.  Some would even call it relaxing and peaceful.  That's why we, the Sexy family, enjoy camping so much.

Yet it's not all that peaceful and relaxing.  At least, not for me.  And if I'm feeling grumpy, for example, it plays into each family member and even effects the friends we are visiting with.

For me, family activities are tense and stressful with very little release.

Saturday night was our second night camping with our friends and I was almost begging Mr. Sexy to put the two girls to bed early so I could finally relax.  Denai was exhausted anyways but putting her to bed before the sun leaves typically proves difficult.  Marie, on the other hand, was a gem.  No signs of grumpiness there.  However, she tends to be my main source of tension these days.  So bedtime is something I always look forward to.

Mr. Sexy has been telling me often I need to relax.  WE need to relax.  But it ain't all that simple.

Something has changed between me and Marie and I have been spending a lot of time deep in thought about what it is.  A few months ago I was getting into the habit of being purposeful in my loving actions towards her, regardless of what feelings were feeling like.  The heart changes began immediately and true connection starting peeking its head out.  I saw glimpses of a genuine relationship with huge potential.  In each other we were finding small pieces of comfort and humor.

That's all gone now.  I feel as if I have gone backwards a year or so.  There are huge feelings happening to me and I am getting lost in it.

After visiting a class on spiritual warfare this weekend (read about the author, Dr. Karl Payne), after seeing the pain in Mr. Sexy's eyes every day, I have realized what it is that has changed.

I gave up.

I accepted.

I welcomed.

I have become completely complacent in my relationship with Marie.  There are two feelings at play now.  Numbness (if that's even a feeling) and anger.  I feel numb to her when she isn't around (you know, the sleeping part).  I feel angry when I see her.

I know how this sounds.  I even know what you are thinking.   I know because everything, EVERYTHING has been said to me when I begin to discuss the deep, dirty issues that life offers.  In order to put anyone's uneasy mind at rest, Mr. Sexy and I are seeking help in all avenues.  He is in counseling, we are meeting with a behavioral specialist (appointment is today YAY!), we are also seeking help spiritually and I am slowly making my way back to counseling.

I have a line from a song in my head.  I'm not exactly sure what it means, especially out of context:

Slow down, let my heart catch up to your heart.

(You can preview this song, Bethany, for yourself.)

It's playing over and over and over again.

Perhaps I need to slow down and fill my mind with the Holy Spirit.  Only through His strength will I be able to fight of those who torment my mind with all these huge feelings.

I have been thinking and talking a lot about feelings lately.  It was only a handful of years ago that I learned and realized that feelings are just that.  Feelings.  When they are good, it's awesome.  But they aren't always good.  Sometimes it's bad, like anger.  Good or bad, feelings are not to be trusted.  In my experience, feelings should not be trusted.  Period.  Unless weighed in with something else.

Fighting the feelings is exhausting work.  But hey, giving in to the feelings leaves me just as tired!  Either way, it's a battle.  So if it's going to be hard work either way, shouldn't I choose to challenge the big feelings and fight off the untruthfuls?  As I am typing this, I'm thinking, duh!  How dense are you?!  But that's no way for me to talk to myself.... or is that something else filling my mind with more hurtful thoughts and feelings?

Life is messy.  It's so messy.  Oftentimes it feels (there are those feelings again) like we are going to be lost in the storm forever.

I'm thankful for friends who can sometimes see more clearly than I.

I know it seems impossible, but you will make it through this. 

You will figure this out. 

I believe in you. 

I love you. 

These are the thoughts we should be focusing on.  

My (failed) Expectations

Today I read a post at City Chick in the Country where she spent a few lines talking about expectations about her family.  This got me thinking.

My family is still young.  Yet my expectations of my family have already been squandered.

For instance, Marie rarely - if ever - meets my expectations.  Mr Sexy tells me all the time to adjust my level of expectation for her.  Yet I don't do that.  I don't feel like I can.  To me, it seems like that would mean she will never be good enough.  Good enough for what?  For who?  Good enough for me?  Is that my problem?

When we were getting to know each other, 2010.
Sometimes I think we need to figure out how to get
back to that place because we aren't there anymore.

Do I want Marie to be good enough to be "allowed" to be a part of my family?

As a Christian, I understand where I'm in sin.  As an imperfect Christian, I'm not quite sure how to get out of it.

I also had expectations of the family I grew up with.  My parents, my three younger brothers.  All have failed me.  Every singe one.  Over and over and over again.  (Sound familiar?) But then again, I failed them, too.  Every single member of my family have been let down by me - more than once.  We are imperfect people, after all.

The family I grew up with. 2010

I also had expectations of the picture my family would look like.  The picture in my head and the one I currently have do not match.  That was my choice, though.  I had sex and didn't use protection.  On purpose.  No, I wasn't trying to get pregnant.  I was "trying" to stop having sex with my boyfriend.  But I was a lonely, horny teenager who was too prideful to go the drugstore.  Again.  But hey, he's cute right?

Michael, 2 months old.

So I suppose, in many regards, I have failed to meet my own expectations. 

Perhaps my expectations need to change.  Not for Marie, or for my family or for the friends I have around me.  (Let's face it, friends - best friends - have not always met up to my expectations.)  Maybe my expectations need a shift toward what God expects first.  And maybe if I practice leaning into Him instead of worldly things, I will have more of a cleared up heart to accept people for who they are, where they are, even when they fail to meet all my expectations.

My family, 2014

Another Day in the Sexy Family

Mr. Sexy had his much anticipated appointment with a sleep doctor yesterday.  We heard he is absolutely amazing and highly recommended which is awesome because Mr. Sexy hasn't had a decent night's sleep in almost 15 years now.  However, this appointment is not the highlight of my story today.

We recently bought a beater truck from a friend.  Michael LOVES driving it to school every day with Mr. Sexy and it's been a great commuter vehicle.

Of course, the Sexy family can't go too long without car trouble. 

I knew trouble was brewing when I received this text:

Having issues with the truck. Yay!

And then half an hour went by and I was still waiting to hear that he was headed to pick up some baked beans to go with dinner.

Then I get this text:

Another dinner option might be a good idea.

"Another dinner option" meant driving into town to pick him up and take him home.  But what a great excuse to go to one of our new favorite Mexican restaurants!  There also happened to be a 2 for 1 burrito special AND an amazing beer special.

So as I was driving into town I kept chanting (AND believing): I'm not worried.  God's got this handled.  He hasn't let us down yet. 

Good food.  Good beer.  Then a phone call.

Our friends have been trying to get Mr. Sexy and I to become part of the community theatre board.  Last night was their annual meeting and while we were invited a few weeks ago, I immediately declined.  We just have too much going on!  We are now moving, and quickly.  Mr. Sexy works two jobs and we are lucky to have a family dinner together.  I'm always stressed out about one thing or another.  And of course, now we are (again) having car troubles.

You see, we both talk about wanting to be involved in the community.  However, getting past our excuses is a different conversation.

But after my very large beer I was all for attending the meeting.  Apparently they just needed two more bodies so they could vote on a few issues.  Sure!  Mr. Sexy and I can vote about things we probably know a little bit about.

The meeting was boring and I wished I brought some beer with me.  But that might have been tacky.

However, I could see Mr. Sexy getting excited as I watched his brain work, already brimming with ideas to improve our local theatre program.  Our friends have been nudging him to take the Vice President position that became open officially as of last night, but of course we continually stepped back from the idea.  As I stated previously, we just have too much going on.

But peer pressure tends to win out for me.

So I nudged Mr. Sexy and told him he should do it.  He questioned whether he "should" for my sake, but really, it was only out of courtesy.  He really REALLY wanted to do this.  So I said, "Whatever.  Just do it!"

And now it's done.  Mr. Sexy is Vice President of our community theatre board.

So weird.

We had hopes that after the two hour meeting our truck would magically start and we would understand why it broke down.  But, no such luck. "Perhaps there is more to the story," was Mr. Sexy's reaction.

We got home close to ten last night.  Every was so tired.  And now this morning, I'm still tired, and Mr. Sexy didn't leave me enough coffee.

I wonder what adventure today will bring...

It Has To Be Good

Around this time last year, Mr. Sexy and I were sitting in the office of our family pastor at the church we still know as Home.  Denai was about a month old.  I remember kneeling on the floor, changing her diaper while tears were stinging my eyes because I knew.  My heart knew and finally my head knew.  We were moving.  And soon.

It was a painful realization but one I was able to come to on my own time, in my own way.

We picked our first available weekend, somehow found enough money for a hotel stay and carted the kids to a town an hour and a half away to find our new house.  Every house we looked at was a dump and appeared to be party central.  This town is a small college town which meant most houses for rent were overpriced and not taken care of.  After a long weekend we were feeling down about the whole thing.  But we had one more house to look at.  It was in a town right outside where we had been looking; a town so small it doesn't have a grocery store or gas station.  We found the listing on one obscure sight and it had one picture with a description of the 78 acres the house sits on.

Our driveway.

This was the final house for us to see.  As we drove up the steep, mile long driveway we were both nervous.  Trees and brush surrounded us and it felt like we were entering a forest and would perhaps find a shack for rent.


Instead we found our home.

It was a challenge living out here in the woods.  First, the bees were extraordinary to the point we didn't go outside until evening when we would have our evening campfire with beers on the side.  There were so many bugs coming in through the broken screens that I complained daily about it.  Sometimes even by the hour.  Then winter came and that had its own long list of hurdles.  We learned how terrible the insulation is here and how much firewood we actually needed to get through a winter using a wood stove as our main source of heat.  We had vehicles get stuck in the snow many times and once it was a 6 hour adventure with all of us hiking up the driveway in a snow storm because
 there was no way to get our mini van to the house.  That was fun.

On our way home a huge snow storm hit causing
a major accident resulting in a 2 hour stand-
still while we were only 10 miles from home.

In all that time it had been snowing so hard our
van couldn't make it up the driveway.  The end
result was putting Denai in her car seat in a sled
and all of us hiking home.  It took about 45
minutes.
But what memories! 

And now spring has arrived.  We learned the ins and outs of this life in the woods and were ready to gear up for the summer of bees and another winter of snow.  It was going to be fun because we knew what to do.

As of last week, it has pretty much been decided that the owner wants to sell this property.  Our lease is up August 1 and that's our deadline to get out.

Again, we are feeling a bit hopeless.

This house, the atmosphere, the breathtaking beauty we are surrounded in has been wonderful for our family.  Michael started to actually enjoy playing outside.  Both kids can be out there for hours, exploring the creek and the woods and there is no worry about cars or strangers walking by.  I have come to a place where I enjoy the quiet stillness that I wake up to every morning.  There is no needless running around town or pressures to be out and about in the world.

Here, in this place, God speaks to my soul and I can actually hear Him.


When we moved in we were told this house would be available to us for three years at least.  Plans changed, I guess.

Mr. Sexy and I are struggling through disappointment, doubt and fear.  However we also know that there is always hope and there is a master plan in all this.  It's stressful for both of us which means we are having difficulty trusting God.

So when I feel my stomach start to get all twisty I tell myself: This was a wonderful home and it was just what we needed.  Now it's time to embark on the next chapter, another adventure, and it's going to be good.

It has to be good.  I honestly don't see how it can be good right now.  But it has to be good.

And there are some good and fun things about moving right?  Tell me all of them!

I'm Obsessive, But It's a Heart Thing

I started blogging because I carry a burning desire to share my life with others.  As I reintroduce myself and all the hearts that make up my own, I am constantly, at the very least, a little bit nervous.

You are evil.

You should put your daughter up for adoption.

You are going to hell.

You have a black heart.

These words and more still try to plague my spirit.  Even when not directed to my name, I still feel the cutting edge of these spiteful, hateful words.  Those words don't know love, the power of forgiveness or the wonder of grace.

My family of 5, on the other hand, are able to  know these concepts well.  The five of us stumble and fall daily.  Sometimes, it's up to one to pick up the others and encourage and push forward in love.  Sometimes, only one of us falls and the blessings of family abound.

The A to Z blogging challenge was a really great way for me to practice blogging from my heart in a positive way.  I also enjoyed the challenge of meeting so many new bloggy spaces where I will continue to visit in the future.  Every blog is unique and I believe each one has a purpose.  As I told my gal pal the other day, "Sure it's been said already.  But not by you."  It's so true. (This girl should have a blog.  I have talked about her a few times here.  She has an incredible amount of knowledge AND opinions about cloth diapering, parenting, female issues and I'm sure there is much more.  I always enjoy her perspective even if it's different from mine.  So if she's reading this...be pushed forward. ;)

I worry that I'm a bit obsessive about blogging.  I think about it all the time.

Oh! I should tweet this.

I need to instagram that.

Wow.  My thoughts are amazing right now.  I need to be writing a blog post. 

Mr. Sexy tells me it's ok.  I'm just passionalte about it.  I'm passionate becasue I love it.  I love sharing my life with other people.  I especially get joy ouf of sharing the bad stuff.  I don't think a lot of people could say that.  The bad stuff is difficult to write and to read. It is even harder to understand from an outside perspective.  However, if I don't share the bad stuff, I'm robbing you of the chance to see God taking the bad and turning it into something good.  Actually, I'm robbing myself of the blessings of sharing His story as well.

I would love for my readers to be able to follow along on this journey that my family and I are on.  We are flawed.  Painfully flawed at times.  We all are, aren't we?  But so often we try to hide and show off clean floors and the spotless kitchen.  While I love those ideas, sometimes, it's not reality.  I tend to write and discuss the reality that I know in my life.  I'm encouraged in my journey already and I hope you will be too.

Q is for Quitting: My Journey Through Parenthood

Q is for Quitting.

There was a time, not very long ago, when I told Mr. Sexy I was done.  I wanted to quit.

What does that mean? he asked.

I have no blazing clue, was my response.

The daily struggles of life had become too much and I hit a wall.  A brick wall.  And it was very high.  Everything that encompassed who I am, felt dried up.  I felt empty.  I had nothing left to offer.  I just wanted to be done.

I was exhausted from feeling angry every day.  I was tired of feeling unloved and undesired.  I was burnt out from putting so much energy into trying to understand down syndrome.  Daily I was beating myself up because as a step-parent and therefore, as a parent, I was blowing it.  My heart ached and there was no outlet that would satisfy.

So I wanted  to quit.  I fantasized about running away. I thought about becoming a drunk, too.  I could do it and I wouldn't even remember Mr. Sexy leaving me and taking all the kids.

These ideas I just described to you were extremely short lived.  They were fleeting moments of insanity that came and went.  This is how Satan works, though.  Small, swift pokes.  The minute I give the poke some clout, it turns into something bigger.  Like a nudge.  And then, what were fleeting moments of insanity, starts to become my reality.  I have seen this happen in my life before, and I wasn't going to let it happen again.

That's why I had to tell Mr. Sexy I wanted to quit.

As you can see, I have not quit.  I'm not even sure how I came out of the dark place.  Prayer, I'm sure, although not by me.  I don't talk to God well when I'm in the dark place.  So I'm thankful to those who did pray for me because those people, whoever they are, helped keep my family together.

I don't feel like quitting anymore.  I don't want to become a drunk and I definitely want to keep Mr. Sexy and ALL of my kids around.  At least for a few more years. ::wink wink::

It's my opinion that being honest about life is really important.  I don't like it when I put up a facade whether it's on facebook, at church, my blog or hanging out with my friends.  But it's hard to be honest about the dark place.  It is scary to hear about it from a friend.  It's even scarier to admit when you're in the dark place.

The thing is that we need each other.  None of us are immune to the dark place.  There will be some who call me rude names because I admit my deepest struggles.  Then there will be those, like my prayer warriors and Mr. Sexy, who do all they can to respond in love even though they can't understand the struggle.

Wow.  This was deep for the day before Easter!

This is the A-Z blogging challenge so go ahead and read the introduction and see a list of all my A-Z posts.

Nails on the Cross: My Journey Through Parenthood

N is for Nails on the cross.

I have 3 kids.

Denai just turned 1 so I think it's safe to say she has some maturing to do.

Michael is 6 and has questions about everything and then some.

Marie is 12 and has down syndrome.

Sooooo when is a good time to introduce the idea of becoming a Christian?

I don't think this question has a cut and dry answer for anybody.  My story in a few lines is that I accepted Jesus as my savior with my parents when I was 5.  I was super duper excited about it.  Then I got older and forgot that it was exciting and being a Christian became quite lame and uncool.  Then at 12 years old I began a personal relationship with Jesus for the first time and that's when it stuck.

Was I a Christian before I turned 12?  I'm not sure.  I think Jesus accepted my child like faith when I turned 5.  But I needed to get beyond that point in my maturity.  As an adult I have no doubts about where I will go when I die because I can remember the moments that Jesus became real to me and I made him Lord of my life.

So far Mr. Sexy and I are allowing the kids to question life and instigate conversations about God and faith.  Well, actually it's only Michael who instigates these conversations.  Denai, of course, doesn't talk yet.  Marie doesn't question a whole lot at this point.

My goal is for my kids to choose to have a personal relationship with Jesus rather than say a prayer and be "safe."  As a mom who understands the gravity of the afterlife this is a scary thing to let go of control of!  However I can often find solace in the fact that I never had such control.  God holds each one of my kids in His capable hands.

And that is where I will leave today's post.  Thank you for reading!

Do you have a story about accepting Jesus or about your kids accepting Jesus?   

This is the A-Z blogging challenge so go ahead and read the introduction and see a list of all my A-Z posts.

Afraid: My Journey Through Parenthood

A is for Afraid.

I was afraid with each of my kids in very different ways.  It's a rite of passage I think.  I heard somewhere that there should be a test for becoming a parent - much like a driver's test.  Somehow I think I would fail that test.  Or I would ace it and do the opposite of whatever the "right" answer is.

One thing that has always helped me over come my fears is knowledge.  I found out I was pregnant when I was 19.  I had to breathe in a bag in the middle of the night.  I woke up my roommates on accident and they thought someone had died.  It was a fairly traumatic event.  So after dumping my boyfriend (whom I later got back together with and then we broke up one final time about a year later) and moving back in my with parents I started learning.  I let my mom take me to a Bradley Birthing class which - against all odds - convinced me that a natural childbirth and no drugs was the way to go.  And I did it!  I will forever be proud.

I had no clue how to be a parent so I took a few college classes.  They were designed more for teacher wannabe's but as a momma wannabe I learned a lot of great stuff.  I still have the textbooks which helped me through each milestone till about 18 months.

Through all this I discovered a resilient young woman.

I'm still afraid.  I have to constantly combat my worries with truths.  For instance...

I'm afraid that Michael will grow up and decide to become a mormon like his step-mom.  I'm not going to rip on the religion.  People I know who are mormon are good and decent people.  But I want more for my son.  I want more for my kids.  I want my kids to understand what it means to have a relationship with Jesus.  I have never met a mormon who considers this a priority.  

I'm afraid that Marie will never move out of my house.  She has down syndrome and at 12 years old she struggles with basic math and self-help skills.  How is she ever going to figure out laundry or how to cook herself some decent meals?  

I'm afraid that Denai will grow up and have more regrets than she has toes and fingers.  I'm afraid that she is going to have sex too young and get pregnant before she's ready.  Sound familiar?

I think I waste a lot of energy engaging in these thoughts.  Has Michael rejected Jesus yet?  Is Marie old enough to move out?  Denai isn't even a one-year old!

Yet I'm already painting a picture of their future with my fears.

Now that's just nasty.

 Here is the truth:

Michael is smart and curious about all things.  He asks questions and enjoys picking what he sees as the most logical choice.

 Marie has six years to learn how to make scrambled eggs and sort laundry.  If it ends up taking a little while longer then that's okay too.  We will have kids in the house for a long time anyways!

Denai has her entire life ahead of her.  Right now she is learning that it's not okay to throw her food on the floor and scratch my face.  For now, I will focus on that.

The truth is that as much as I screw up in my parenting ways, my kids will either turn out great or they won't.  God knows their hearts.  Even when I don't understand one bit about them, God does.

This is the A-Z blogging challenge.  Go ahead and read the introduction.