Rebirth

Sometimes the world seems so dark that you can barely remember what the light feels like, let alone looks like. Sometimes God feels cruel and disconnected and oh so distant that you begin to wonder if He even exists. Sometimes hope begins to feel like a dirty word chaining you to a situation that your mind keeps screaming at you to walk away from, but your soul, your spirit knows better... Sometimes love hurts so big and so deep and so wide that you almost wish it didn't exist. Or maybe it's just the memories of its wonder and extravagance that you want to will away...

I have been in the deepest, darkest places that love could possibly ever bring a human being. I was abandoned by my "church", many of my "friends", and nearly all of my local support when the nuclear explosion destroyed us. My world was falling apart and I had no answers. It was hell.

But some thing in the back of my mind triggered a fight. And I fought with all of my might. And there were a thousand nights where I was convinced I was losing, or it was hopeless. There were a thousand nights where there was no possible positive outcome that could exist. The world told me to accept this hell as my new normal or to abandon the person I have yoked myself with. Neither were an option in my universe.

I can't count the number of times I cried myself to sleep. Or screamed at what felt like a spiteful, hateful God. I can't count the number of times where I began to believe in all of the "self help" books that existed, or the "therapists" that came into my life. I can't count them because there was so many, too many...

The grief was so overwhelming that I reached a point where I was no longer able to feel it. I became numb. Numb to joy, hope, love, gentleness, goodness. Lost in darkness. And in the midst of that dark and torrid place, I cried out to my God and Creator for a sign. I was so desperate I didn't have the thought process of you're not supposed to ask for a sign. Maybe that's why He heard me. Maybe that's why in that moment of sheer desperation He rescued me. Or maybe a thousand other scenarios that I won't ever be able to understand.

But I can tell you, I can promise you, my weary reader... It will get better. I can promise you that with all that I am. I can tell you that we have lost site of the sheer beauty that agony can create. Because out of the ashes, of your entire world burning down around you, will come the most beautiful experience that you can't even describe. Out of the muck and mire of this hurt that is so intense, and so devastating will come a beautiful, beautiful, testimony that will move mountains and change souls and change your life.

Don't ever stop fighting for him. Even if he asks you to. Because it's not about what he asks. It's about what God called you to do. It's not about him. It's about Him! It's about what your Creator called you to do. He prepared you, equipped you, for this god-awful battle, and He is in this hell with you. Don't ever forget that He conquered hell... And together with you, He will conquer this hell too.

I have lived hell. I have lived more hurts than are possible to put words to. Out of the ashes of my whole world being burned to the ground, came the most beautiful experiences I could have ever imagined. Out of the devastation of the nuclear bomb that destroyed my universe came a new creation, sweeter than honey, more precious than gold. And it's all because of You.

I never knew it could be so much better than it was...

Submission

Submission has been turned into a dirty word, especially for people like me. Fighters don't have the ability to contemplate the notion of submission. It's entirely contrary to our nature. We are ready, waiting almost, for the next ambush. Our fists are up, our minds are sharp, our weapons are armed. 

I sat there feeling prepped for a fight. But I also sat there exhausted by the idea of it. When you've been fighting as long as I have, you long for peace, for quiet, even though your brain isn't quite capable of accepting it. He said "fall flat on your face, stretch out your hands, and submit. Lay it down. Your plans. Your ideas. Your intentions. Let it go. Accept what He has willed."

Now you know those moments when you can literally hear Jesus talking to you? This was one of them. Jesus was freaking talking straight to me. Every single word was cutting.

I am so unwilling to unclench my fists, relax my arms and just. let. go. Where I live. When my husband is deployed (or away from home). My childrens' illnesses. My dog's failing health. The FRG... The laundry list of chains I have my hands tightly wrapped around that I just can't (or really won't) submit to. Submission feels like this dirty word that means I allow the avalanche to destroy me. Submission feels like defeat. 

But is it? Is opening my hands and actually relaxing going to be as awful as I fear? Why am I so prone to ignore the possibilities of things I am being protected against? Why am I so oblivious to the safety I have been offered in these seemingly awful things? The "gifts" that hurts can bring are boundless. 

I am trying to lay my face down on the grand, outstretch my arms, and submit. I am trying to say "Your way, Your time, Your means." I am trying to put down my ammunition and climb on His horse and be cool with Him doing His thing. It's tough, but comforting too. 

Slow Goodbyes

Goodbye comes in many forms. Sometimes it's quick and sudden. The impact hits you like a sucker punch. It's final. Permanent. Over. Sometimes goodbye comes slowly. It drags its feet, making sad eyes on its long, long walk to the door. I have been venturing down this journey of goodbye to you now for weeks. You've slowly slipping away from me. Sure, you still have moments of vitality. You jump up and and rough-house. And then you have moments like tonight... You can't even stand up. You lean against me with all of your 100+ lbs, and you look at me with this look that says I'm hurting. Will you please let me go?

I don't know how Jake. I don't know how. And it's strange because in some ways I hate you for falling apart. In some ways I wish this slow goodbye would just end. In some ways I feel betrayed. How dare you be dying? How could you? How could you do this to me? You made me love you and then you do this... And in other ways I think you're just as reluctant to go as I am to let you. In other ways I think you don't want to leave this world.

It all seems so dramatic. It feels so painful. Who knew you could become one of my best friends? Who knew you could ever mean this much to me?

Your labored breathing pains me. When you cry out in pain, I want to fight for you. It's strange that there is no "fight" to actually fight. Just acceptance. I know that you're trying to teach me a lesson... I know in your gentle, ever faithful way you're trying to show me what letting go looks like. You're trying to teach me to live in the moment and stop imagining the hurt that's on its way. But it is Jake. It is. I know it, and I wish that I didn't. I wish I could keep going on, naive to the freight train heading my way.

We lay on the floor, chest to chest, and you wrap your furry arm around me. It's strange how in some ways you're so human. I told Chief once that I believed you are my guardian angel. Aren't guardian angels supposed to stay forever? Stupid me... Another lesson to learn...

I don't want you to go. I don't want to have to watch you agonizing, and have this internal battle within myself. I don't want to have this question constantly plaguing my mind... when. When? When....? How can I know when you've finally had enough? How can you put this on my shoulders? I don't know what to do Jake. I don't know how.

So instead I'll lay here on the floor snuggled up next to you. I'll lay here and let you wrap your furry arms around me, and I'll fall asleep. I'll do my best to cherish these days, and I'll try so hard to be ready for that moments when it finally comes....

I'm an asshole Jake. I've always been one. Thank you for loving me anyway. And thank you for being patient with me.

The girl who changed the world

It's interesting how the most powerful of all scenarios begins with belief. Especially since we live in a world where we're pretty much unwilling to believe anything. We've lost our ability to trust.

I find it absolutely beautiful that the King chose to enter the world through a girl. I also find it humbling that God searched out the heart's of all womankind and the only righteous one he could find was in a young girl. The faith of a child.... And she believed. She believed what was told to her. She accepted the destiny handed down to her. She was chosen and she was cool with that, come what may.

Mary is played down so much when it comes to Christ. That breaks my heart for a million reasons. I can't help but wonder how much strength Christ might have drawn from His mother as He hung on that cross. She never left His side. She didn't abandon Him. She stood beside Him through it all, until the very end. She was there. She was in it. She was devoted.

Her strength is astounding. Her faith is inspiring. Her love is empowering.

The belief of one changed the fate of many. The actions of One changed the fate of the many.

You know why this means so much to my heart? Because it's convicting. It has become so prevalent in the realm of women to undermine our might. We have accepted the notion that we must stand on the sidelines and be quiet, let the men do the dirty work. We work as ministers in our homes... It's not that the notion of ministering in our homes isn't true, but it's so much more than that. We're called to believe. We're called to believe so fiercely, so intensely, that the essence of our whole lives is forever changed. We're called to stand beside Him, forever. Not to turn away when things get ugly. As women we are created to be able to handle that kind of intensity. We have the ability to pour out love in the midst of intense hatred without saying a word. We have the ability to stand quietly and embrace, without moving our arms. We have the ability to be present, to be strong, when the entire world is falling apart. We have the ability to move mountains, to change the world, just by believing.

One girl changed my life forever. She didn't know me, she couldn't have even fathomed my existence in the moment when she changed my life. But this one girl, made it so that I can love her Son. She believed so that her Son could save my life. She had the faith that I so deeply desire to have in my self. She loved Him the way I want to love Him.

"Flesh of my flesh... heart of my heart... My Son, let me die with you." (Mary, The Passion of the Christ)

Party of Pity

I am having one of those days where you wake up and just need to cry. I am overwhelmed. I'm drained. I feel empty. I feel a thousand things that are probably inappropriate to write, but they're there. I. am. tired. It's a mental thing, not a physical one. I feel buried under a mountain of stress and it's so big and so deep and so wide that I can't even pinpoint exactly what all it is that is so overwhelming. It's about a hundred different items that are all threes and fours on the scale of burdensome (scale goes 1-10), but collectively equal four hundred. I could list them but it wouldn't matter. You'd just judge me and think what the hell is her problem and I'd just judge myself and think the same, adding another level 3 burden to the stack. It's probably not beneficial.

Please don't offer the religious platitudes either. I've done them (or am doing them) and I'm so irritated with the Christian realm pretending that we're all supposed to be smiley-happy-duggar family people. We're not. Christ wasn't. Scripture says "A time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance" (Ecc 3.4) for a reason. It's because we were created to be multi-emotional (WHAT!?!?!?!) and not cookie cutter bubblegum pop human beings.

Life sucks. This whole notion of "life is beautiful" is very often not true. Yes, there are times when it is, but there are also times when it is ugly.

I know I have so much to be thankful for. I know I am immensely blessed. I know I have so many good things to focus on and dwell on. And I'm working on that. But I'm tired. I miss my husband. I really miss him. He works constantly. Comes home and falls asleep and wakes up to do it again. And I miss him. Last night he fell asleep and I was sitting on the couch resentful, exhausted, angry. I was borderline about to throw an adult temper tantrum (seriously), when in his sleepy state he said I miss you SO much baby. I missed you so much today. Cut my heart, in a good way.

I know that this is his time to lead and I deeply want to be supportive and encouraging. I am trying my best to prepare myself mentally for that. I am so proud of him. I really am. He deserves success. And I know that this is how it goes... the bigger the rank (for enlisted), the greater the time commitment...

I suppose if all of these other little events were so exhausting, I could handle this all better. I suppose if a thousand other scenarios were playing out, maybe I would be less angry, and more happy. I suppose a lot of things that frankly aren't our reality right now.

This morning I've just wanted to cry and feel sorry for myself. This morning I feel sad, tired, drained. This morning I really miss Chief and want to snuggle up next to him. This morning I'm attending my own pity party. Want to come? You can bring the hats.

Hope

I will never understand why the Catholic church does not kick out these priests who destroy the dignity, value, religion, and sexuality of the children they molest. I will never understand why the Church ignores when Christ says that it's better for you to throw yourself in to the sea and drown (AKA commit suicide) than for you to cause a child to stumble (or to do all of the things child molesters do). I will never understand why there is an idea of tolerance to those individuals who are called to be the pillars, backbone, and strength of the Church. And why we all as Christians in general (and the Protestant realm is equally guilty of these things) constantly make excuses like well they're sinners too... BS. When you accept the calling of priesthood/pastor/leader in ANY way within the religious realm, you no longer get to use the excuse that you're "just a sinner". You don't get to permanently damage another human being, call yourself a sinner, and move on about your way (often times at other Parish's/churches).

The scars of molestation and rape are permanent. Even if the individual is able to come to some sort of notion in their mind of forgiveness, their view of sex is forever changed. Their marriage will be effected, how they parent, everything they do is viewed through the lens of the actions that this leader and mentor did to them. There can be no allowance of continued behavior. There can be no chances offered for them to do this to someone else. There can be forgiveness. But forgiveness does not mean lack of consequence. Forgiveness does not mean that the person should continue working in their field. Church leaders are called to incredibly high standards for a reason. When they fail to uphold a life worthy of the calling, they should be removed from their position. No ifs ands or buts about it.

It is my prayer and hope that the new Pope will have the firmest stance against child molestation the world has ever seen.

You've got to be able to peel off your skin and let the humanity wash in when you've built up a lifetime's worth of callouses. You've got to be able to pull back from your ferocious kick starts and let the smooth and slow ride absorb you. You've got to be able to absolve yourself from the damages of years past, otherwise whatever good it is that has found its way to your door will go unrecognized. It will go unknown. And even though you will be surrounded by a plethora of people who actually get you... you will feel incredibly alone.