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! 

The Single Issue

My husband was a single dad this weekend.

HA.  NOT.

Dad's kind of breakfast.

He was at home with the kids while I went away for a few nights, He was in no way a "single dad."
Yet, I wonder how many of us refer to ourselves as single parents when the spouse is gone.  Mr. Sexy used to be out of our home daily from 4 am to 7 pm. I was asked if it felt like I was a single parent.  My answer is: Heck no!  My husband came home every night. I texted him all day. He was working and bringing in an income so I could be home with the kids. It was always strange to be asked if I felt like a single parent.

I may hit some hot buttons with this topic.  While it's not a huge deal, it's still something I hear from people and I'm thinking about it today as I left Mr. Sexy with all 3 kids this weekend.

Sometimes it's a weekend, sometimes it's a week, sometimes it's a few years that one spouse is out of the home.  Work conference, get away weekend, and deployment are just a few examples. But none of that makes either spouse single.

I understand taking care of the kid(s) alone day in and day out would feel lonely.  Before I met and married Mr. Sexy I was doing the single mom thing.  I consider it a huge blessing we got married when Michael was very young.  Thinking about my personal education, a steady income and Michael's future was a lot to juggle on my own.  Not to mention the day to day tantrums, grocery shopping, bed time stories and so on.

I was a single mom.
I was the source of my income.
I was my housekeeper.
I was Michael's disciplinarian.
I was the chef.

There was no other person coming home to us at the end of the day.
There was no one to tell me good night as I turned off the light.
There was no cash flow coming from anyone other than me (ok, well, I was on welfare so the government did their part too).
There were no love letters in my email, no love notes in my mailbox.
When I had a bad day, there was no significant other to text, email or call about it.

Am I making my point?

Denai at 32 weeks.

Mr. Sexy and I found out I was pregnant with Denai the morning he had to leave for three weeks.  Military stuff.  He wasn't allowed to cancel or postpone.  Three weeks was a long time.  I missed him so much it felt painful.  Taking care of the two kids and growing one was exhausting work for me. I didn't get to talk to Mr. Sexy whenever I wanted.  Most of the time his phone was off.  But I texted him as if he were able to read each one so he would be fully updated when he had some time to talk. I wasn't working outside the home, yet there was still a cash flow in my bank account so I could do the grocery shopping. I looked forward to Mr. Sexy coming home every day - as did the kids.

In no way was I a single mom during those weeks. My husband was away and working hard to provide for our family.  I don't know many single parents who can say that.

Follow Fest 2014

I happened across this blog hop today and thought it looked like fun. From what I read, this is a hop to meet other bloggers and you post only once during the week.  I'm so busy that this could really work for me!  Visit Melissa's blog for more details.

Name: 

Mrs. Sexy (I have a real name too but I don't use it on social media - for now.)

Fiction or nonfiction?

Nonfiction. 

What genres do you write?

I can't think of another category I would fit in other than nonfiction. 

I write about my life, past and present. 

Writing and sharing what I write is somewhat of a coping mechanism as well as sharpening the writing skills. 

Are you published?

No. 

Do you do anything in addition to writing?

I enjoy videography and went to school for it but am not doing too much with that currently.

I spend a lot of time at home taking care of the kids and the house.  

I currently just got cast in Anne of Green Gables as Marilla Cuthbert.  This should be interesting.

Tell us a little about yourself.

I am mom of a blended family which has it's many challenges. I feel like I can always smell a dirty diaper even when I can't actually find one. I like the idea of knitting but can't seem to finish any project I start.  I'm wondering if crochet will be better. 

I grew up living in the suburbs but now I live in the country in an old farm house with lots of ways for field mice to get in.  I'm not an animal person but at home there are 3 dogs, 1 turtle, 2 cats, 1 rooster and 8 chickens. The turtle is the only one who gets to live in the house.  

What are you reading right now?

Anne of Green Gables - I'm looking for insights into Marilla's character.

What Were You Expecting? - It's a marriage book for Sunday School.

Which authors influenced you the most?

Uummmm...I can think of favorite books...But really, I don't read enough. 

Where can people connect with you?

Blog

Twitter @5Hearts1Family

Instagram

Facebook

Google+

Email: 5 Hearts One Family (at) gmail (dot) com

Do you have a newsletter?

No.  I'm really not very fancy. 

Is there anything else you’d like us to know?

I have never guest posted and am open to the idea.
I have had one guest post on my blog: Mr. Sexy. My husband.  It's great.  Read it: Broken Bondage 

I'm just a wife and mom who blogs about the ups and downs that come our way. Sometimes it's very personal.  Sometimes it's not.  Sometimes I cross a line that shouldn't be crossed.  Other times I walk right up to it. 

I hope to publish something somewhere someday.

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?

A Helping Hand

Over the weekend I had the opportunity to practice something called: Letting it go.  Feel free to break out in song.

There will always be somebody who thinks they know how to better parent my kids.  Heck, I have probably had that same thought about you.  (Just keepin it real people.) Truth is, parenting is one of those hot topics. It often feels like there is one right way to do things and many wrong ways.  Now tie in the special needs kids.  There is ALWAYS better parenting techniques for them.

Michael wanted to skate at the fair and it was a much better deal than the rides.  Mr. Sexy and I had no desire to skate ourselves so we rented the two kids skates and set them free.

After a few minutes this is what we were watching:





















In these moments it appears they had given up.  It's over.  It's too hard.  I'm stuck.  I can't do it. 

But just give it time...

Michael was right back up and across the rink.

Falling the whole way.

Marie, on the other hand, stayed in her same general position.

Now, Mr. Sexy and I had made the parental decision to give both kids free reign to skate and fall as they pleased.

This meant Michael might end up with a bruised tail bone and Marie would most likely not get much farther than the above picture.

We knew this.  And we were fine with this.  We were looking forward to seeing how both kids did with this small amount of freedom.

A stranger, however, seemed to have different thoughts.

Before getting skates I had stopped to admire the purses and skirts a lady had made with ties.  Only ties. The kind of ties men wear to church or to work or on picture day.  She seemed to price them reasonably and if I had the money I may have bought one just because they were so unique.

Well, that same lady didn't waste much time in approaching us as we stood and laughed and pointed at our dorky kids who didn't know how to roller skate.

"Would you like me to go out there and help her?" the lady asked.  "Her," being Marie, obviously.

It felt like a random request that made no sense to me.

"No, she's okay," I said.

This lady seemed to feel very strongly about her request: "Well, she isn't moving." And she looked at Mr. Sexy and I with a stern, disapproving face.

Well, my pulse quickened and I felt warmth creep up my face so I replied in my syrupy-sweet-voice, "No she's fine. Thank you."

You should all be impressed I said "thank you."  But keep in mind it was a firm "thank you."  The kind that said the conversation was over.

The lady gave us another look, telling us we could go out there without skates and help her if we wanted.

Nod of the head.  Turn away.  Face burning.  Tongue bitten.

Breathe.

I. Hate. That.

I know that people tend to feel sorry for Marie - especially with horrible parents who give her the opportunities to experience life  on her own! She has spent most of her life being led into activities by adults to such a degree that she prefers adults to peers.

So, while my face cooled off and I laughed at Michael for crashing once again, I saw our parenting strategy flourish.

This is the kind of interactions Marie needs.  She doesn't need another adult who wants to rescue her.  She needs someone her own size to invite her into the adventures of life. Then it's up to Marie to decide what to do next.  This time, she took a friend's hand and ventured into the scary sea of a roller skating rink.

Marie left her comfort zone and hung on for dear life.  Literally. 

Have you ever skated with someone who doesn't know how?  Especially one that's your size or close to it?  Simply getting Marie from sitting on the bench to the rink took all my muscles as she simply leaned back into me with all her body weight.  

I should have videoed the skating.  It was like watching Bambi. 

This was Marie's first and only fall of the day.  From what we could see on the sidelines, she refused to get back up even with the help of her new friend.  Her friend retrieved the learning-to-skate-thing for Marie, helped her up into it, and skated off.  

Again, a great thing for Marie to learn.  

Marie had a friend who wanted to help her.  Then Marie decided she didn't want to continue.  So Marie lost that friend. 

Marie actually did figure out how to move around on her own.  It took her a bit but she ended up on the other side of the rink and then came all the way back when it was time to go.  

She wouldn't have had those rich experiences without the helping hand of a peer.