Or A Miracle...

I need peace of mind and a lullaby

'Cause theres an angry voice in my head tonight

Tellin' me to do things that can't be right

I need peace of mind and a lullaby

Jesus, I need the angry voices to stop. I have declared Your power over them, and they no longer can dictate what I do, or whisper lies to me in the dark. In this, You have given me peace of mind. Thank You.

I need peace of mind and a hopeful heart

To lose this rage and move out of the dark

I ain't looking for rainbows or shooting stars

Just some peace of mind and a hopeful heart

Jesus, I need my heart to have hope that I can keep moving out of the dark and into the Light. I need nothing spectacular, just the Light that only You can bring. I don't want to be angry anymore. I want the comfort found only in Your hands. In this, You have given me peace of mind. Thank You.

I need peace of mind and a gentle hand

As I try to change the way I am

And hope God forgives me when I can't

I need peace of mind and a gentle hand

Jesus, I need You to keep changing me. You always forgive me, and Your hand has been nothing but gentle to me. You have allowed the other hands that hold my secrets to be gentle also. In this, you have given me peace of mind. Thank You.

Or a miracle

For this broken soul

A little miracle
For this broken soul

Jesus, you are working a miracle in my life, on my tired and battered soul. If for no other reason, this is why I truly have peace of mind. Thank You. Thank You.

*lyrics by Mindy Smith

**photo by danielygo

Cross My Heart...

I am not a fan of secrets. I think that they make things very complicated, and I think they have the power to do much harm. The problem is, I have a secret. Today I revealed my secret twice, once this morning to someone I hardly know, and once tonight to a dear friend. In telling my secret twice in one day, I came to realize that maybe I was wrong about secrets. While they can do harm, it seems that sometimes secrets can also liberate and heal.

After the conversation with my dear friend tonight, I did much thinking. Here are some of my observations about my secret (and other secrets):
-we are all human, and we all screw up
-more people have secrets than we realize
-secret sin is something many people understand
-i am not the only guilty one
-there is power in confessing to one another

My new friend that I mentioned on Thanksgiving encouraged me not to tell my secret to anyone. She said that people wouldn't understand, and so telling them would only do me more harm. I think I might disagree. I have been blessed with people in my life who seem to catch the concept of supporting each other and suffering together. I have been blessed with friends who are not as quick to judge as I am, and who are able to love each other through scary secrets.

So, all this being said, maybe I have decided that my secret shouldn't be secret anymore. I need to be liberated, and I need the support it will take for me to walk this valley. Though I am not ready to share with the entire world, I am ready to share with the people I call my friends. So those of you who are my friends, you may ask. I will tell. I'm finally ready. It's too dark in here. It's time to let in the light.

"Confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed."
-James 5:16

Happy One-of-the-Strangest-Days-of-My-Life...

Today I had an eight hour long conversation with a stranger. The last three hours were so intense it may take me a week to process it all.

She has blue hair and five tattoos. She wasn't what I expected from our phone conversation. People rarely are.

I ate Thanksgiving dinner with her, her ever so welcoming and friendly husband, and her two precious young children. She's a great cook.

She dealt me some information over the course of a few hours that will, without a doubt, change the course of the rest of my life.

Nothing will ever be the same after what I learned today. I know too much now. I'm still shaking...

The Dangers of Silent Pain Control

I have trouble tolerating pain. And I'm not talking about the physical something-hurts kind of pain. I tolerate that quite well. That should be obvious from the tattoo on my foot that I say hurt "in a good way". I'm talking about emotional pain...the kind that makes your heart hurt and that makes it a little bit harder to breathe. The kind of pain we all go to great lengths to stay one step ahead of and avoid dealing with.

I've spent a few good years of my life running and hiding from pain. I both avoid and bury it quite well. But the older I get, the more I realize how powerful pain can be in shaping who we are and the way our stories play out. I'm realizing that often the pain that life sometimes brings us is worth it because we grow within ourselves in order to come out on the other side.

Where I struggle most, though, is believing that there are good, constructive ways to handle pain other than running from it. I will openly admit to the fact that I practice some very wrong (not to mention scary) methods of pain control. I just can't seem to find a way to deal with my pain in a way that will convince me that it will end. I can't find a way to deal with what hurts because I'm afraid that I wouldn't survive going through what it takes to heal. Pain is easy to escape. It's easy to bury. So how do we deal? How do we stand in the midst of it and not fall down?

I have yet to accomplish this. I don't have answers to these questions. I just know that sometimes it hurts, and sometimes I escape. I know that I don't want to keep falling down, worried that I won't be able to get back up. I know that God heals, and I know there has GOT to be a better way to handle hurt than the ways I fall into. I know that running isn't the answer, and that everything we bury alive will have to be dug back up eventually. This is what I do know. The rest I will keep searching for, if I don't get lost somewhere on this journey. I have hope that the answers are held somewhere, and that there better ways of dealing with pain. I just can't find them right now.

[postscript: this is what happens in my head after four hours in a quiet car. it is also where my thoughts often wander at 2:30 in the morning. please excuse my vulnerability and honesty. and please don't judge. i'm just human.]

Exercises in Honesty

I think sometimes it is easy to forget how much power there is in honesty. I mean real, no holding back honesty. The kind of honesty where you no longer lie to prevent from hurting someone, but instead you just speak truth. Even the kind of truth that hurts.

This morning after church I had a conversation with a friend that might be one of the hardest conversations I have ever had. She just sat down and started talking, barely taking the time to breathe. She chose to be honest with me instead of lying so that I wouldn't get upset. Much to her surprise, though, I was anything but upset. I greatly respected the courage and strength it took for her to say what she said to me. I greatly respect how hard it was to hurt me, and anger and hurt are two emotions I didn't feel.

It was at this moment that I realized how much I've grown up. It surprised me that I was able to take what she said, and use it to grow and learn. It surprised me that I was able to love her even more for what she said that I did before she started talking. I'm grateful that God gives us hearts like His that are able to handle the truth from someone who loves us, and take it and turn it into an experience to grow from. I'm grateful that He transforms me in this way.

The power of honesty cannot be matched. Yes, what my friend said to me caused my heart to break and caused silent tears to fall down my face. Yes, I'm hurt that my friends all feel the same way and I had no idea. Yet, I am so glad that I know now. I am so glad that someone stopped taking the easy way out and exercizing obligation, and instead chose to let the truth be heard. It gives me the chance to change things. It gives me the chance to evaluate, and start over. It gives me the power to, in turn, start speaking more truthfully myself. There are things we all need to hear, and thank you JESUS that we have people to speak them to us.

So take this as a challenge. Are you exercizing convienience in exchange for truth? Are you avoiding honesty so that someone won't get hurt? Are there people in your life that need to hear some truth that you have access to? People can't fix things they don't know they are doing wrong. Tell them. Be honest. You might be surprised at how much the truth can change things (and people!).

This is my heart today. Take it or leave it :)

*photo by Twenty2wo

These Walls Cry

Today was one of those exceptionally hard days that life brings along sometimes. I was called out to the house I grew up in, on very short notice, to say my final goodbyes. My dad told me a few months ago that he was selling it, but I didn't expect it all to happen so quickly. They close next Monday. I guess I was mistaken.

I took two friends with me to go pick up the things my stepmom pulled out of the attic that she thought I might want to keep. I didn't realize this trip would tug at my heart, as I went through boxes with my mom's handwriting on them, and as I went through toys that held mountains of memories. I, of course, played it off as a fun adventure, when really inside my heart was slowly tearing. Losing the place you could take people home to to look at pictures and go through childhood treasures isn't easy. Losing the place where you spent the only 17 years you had with your mother isn't easy. Losing the backyard and closets and hallways you spent hours playing in with your favorite playmate isn't easy. This place doesn't exist anymore.

After I gathered all of my things, I decided to walk through the house one more time. I walked through the room I slept in for 18 years, the room my mother slowly died in, the room my brother and I spent hours make-believing in, and the bathroom my mom and I redid the last summer she was alive. I felt compelled to go get the camera. While none of the bedrooms still look the way they did when my mom was alive, my bathroom still held the same look. I had to take a picture of our last project. I had to keep a memory.

On my way back towards the door, I tried to listen very closely to what the walls would say if they could talk. It wasn't long before I realized that my walls didn't talk. My walls cry. My walls hold years of heartbreak, years of suffering, and whispers of death. These are things that I could hear the echos of in the walls every time I set foot in this house. These are the things I would remember first and feel the most when I came home. These things are finished. These things are no more, and I can leave them here.

While it was so hard to lose the place I lived with the person I miss the most, my dear best friend (nine years my senior) gently reminded me that it's a part of growing up. That it happens to all of us at some time, and that we have to learn to carry the good on with us, and let go of the rest. This is what I will try to do. I will try to leave the hurt and the fear in the house, and never look back. I will try to smile as I remember the joy of holidays spent there and the fun I had with my brother on rainy Saturday afternoons. It's a house, and I don't need it to remember. I have to let go. I have to cry with the walls, and then turn and walk away. Death has come, and taken the house with it. The fear is finished. It has been overcome.

This is part of my story now, and it is part of who I am. What I choose to let live on will forever be held in my heart. What I choose to leave behind is done. I pick up the pieces, and I walk away. It's growing up. It's letting go. And I can do this.

Home.

Oh, I'm home. I'm so glad. I walked in the door and was immediately hugged by my roommate. It feels good to be missed :) Sometimes I'm not sure anyone ever misses me. Now I know. And I am grateful.

As soon as I recover from a very long trip and a very busy weekend ahead, I promise I will post all that has gone on. I don't have to go back to work until the 26th. Woo Hoo!!!

Be ready for funny stories and funny pictures and videos. A week with kids produces much of that. And I'm pretty sure my boss is now one of my best friends. 20 hours in the car and a week in her parents house made that happen :) Again, I am grateful.

But most of all, I am grateful to be HOME. This is home. And I am grateful.

Hello from Iowa!

At last, after five days of searching, my dear computer has found an internet connection. I have so much to post, including pictures and fun videos. I have also had many thought provoking moments here in the mid-west, as they seem to make more time for that around here. However, at this time, my boss is out of town and I am playing mom for the next two days here in farmland. So it is questionable whether or not I will have time to post it all before I go home on Friday. I just had to say hi, though :)

More to come soon!

Godspeed...and God, can I speed?

In approximately fourteen hours I am going to climb into a car and hope to survive the next ten. My boss, the kids and I are driving to Iowa tomorrow. God help us. I do not travel well, and it becomes even less well when you add a three-year-old and a one-year-old to the mix. Again, God help us. When it is my turn to drive, I will be driving as fast as I can. If it comes to be that I feel the need to jump out of a speeding car sometime in the next 24 hours, please know that I have been glad to know all of you.

That being said, I am not sure when I will have the capabilities to post any time in the next eight days. I do, however, plan on writing lots while I am there, so if need be I will backlog entries when I get home next weekend. Though I am still holding out a candle that I will have daily internet access, even if it means driving to a coffee shop (they do have those in Iowa, right?).

So off I go into the wild, corn-filled yonder. This is new and uncharted territory for me. Who knows, it might spark some great writings. I wish you all a wonderful week ahead. Godspeed. And believe you me, there will be speeding.

When The Day Is Done...

There has been a strange, scary rash of murders in the greater Nashville area in the past week or so. One of these murders includes the one at a house less than a mile from mine on Saturday night that caused us to lock our doors on Sunday night (something we rarely do). I have to admit, when one of the murders occurred so close by, I was a little afraid to sleep alone. I am the only person that lives in the basement of my house, and there are windows in the room next to mine (a storage room) that I'm not very sure have locks on them (please don't come burglarize my house). My roommate Bryan made a big deal about freaking me out by telling me that no one would even hear me if I screamed, which is probably true, but after I considered the possibility of being murdered (very unlikely, I know), I realized I had nothing to be afraid of.

I realized that I am completely at peace with the idea of dying. I know this sounds morbid, but I think it's a really good thing! I am totally not afraid to die! I know to Whom I belong, and I know where my soul will come to rest when I walk towards the light (if there really is a light). I'm honestly even looking forward to when my days might come to an end this side of heaven, and I get to meet my Saviour. It's going to be a great day, no matter how I die.

I was watching The Today Show this morning (my newest obsession), and Matt Lauer did an interview of Shirley MacLaine about her new book. Apparently she wrote about how she feels about dying and what she thinks of the "afterlife", and when Matt asked her about it, he admitted that he was totally not okay with the idea of dying. I thought this to be sad, because I think it would be great if we were all okay with not being sure we have another day on this earth. I'm at peace with it, and I want everyone else to be, too.

Just for the record, even though I am at peace with the thought of dying, I am totally not done living yet. I just wanted to get that straight :). As my last post said, I believe God has great plans for me. But I did realize today, that when my days are over and my purpose has been served here on earth, I couldn't be more ready to glimpse the face of God. I couldn't be more ready to dwell forever in His physical presence. Take me whenever You're ready, Jesus. Until then, I'll take all I can from right here, right now.

A Case of Cabin Fever

I have been restless lately. The kind of restless where I have a hard time going to bed because I feel like I have better things to do, and I have a hard time going to work because I feel like my days have more purpose than what I am currently using them for. It could be the change in the weather, because cold weather makes me feel cooped up, especially when it's dark by 5pm. Or, it could be the fact that a week and a half ago the unmistakable voice of God told me that He was about to ask me to totally quit my job. Possibly without a reason why. Yeah, that's probably it.

I've never been much of a jumper. I'm more of the baby steps type. Probably because I have everlasting trust issues. Why in the world would I just obey and quit my job without a plan? Why should I think that God might have something big planned that He couldn't just show me BEFORE I quit? Yeah, I don't know. I have no idea what God has in store for me. I just know that I'm praying hard that I hear Him when He tells me what to do. I'm ready to go. I'm ready for something different. I'm bored and restless. I know God's got something important for me, I just pray that I can obey, even regardless of what everyone else would have to say. He is all I need. He has become enough for me.

On a lighter note, I had a major mom moment today. In the chaos of putting the baby in the car and finding the keys and all that jazz this afternoon to go get Ashton from school, I some how forgot to put shoes on. So I, being the Tennessee born-and-bred girl that I am, went into kindergarten to get Ashton with my slippers on. At least he's still too young to be embarrassed by me.

Yeah, I'm ready for a career change. I'm praying. I'm seeking. Feel free to join in.

My Saturday Observations...

No matter how old you get, being left at home and left out of the fun still hurts.

Being able to sleep in is heavenly. Sleep is so, so good after a long week.

Living with lots of people is fun, because there is often at least one person around to hang out with. And we truly are a bunch of brothers and sisters in this house.

You are never too old to sport some footed pajamas.

Nighttime in the fall smells so good.

More than two people will never agree wholeheartedly on which movie to rent.

My roommates are much more fun after 9pm. Ha ha ha.

The funniest quotes come from the people you live with. Probably because you see each other at your best and worst, every day.

Saturdays are my favorite...

The American Nightmare...

I spend my days in an area of suburbia otherwise known as East Brentwood. It's full of high-maintenance yuppies, driving their expensive cars, living in their huge houses, and giving their neighbors fake smiles and waves as they go out to get their mail at the end of the day. The particular street that I work on bears striking resemblance to the Wisteria Lane of TVs Desperate Housewives. Life for these people is a big masquerade. The bad news is, eventually the truth catches up with us all. Eventually the picture perfect lives these people have tried to build for themselves and their families crumble right before every one's eyes, for all the world (or at least the neighborhood) to see.

Enter Family A, one year ago. Dad is a songwriter, trying to make it big in the music business. Mom is an actuary, and makes way more money than dad (but no one knows that). Two beautiful blonde-headed boys, Blaine (2) and Drake (3 months), and their full-time nanny, Joy, complete the family. Big house, nice cars, everything they've ever wanted. Sounds like a perfect life, right? Wrong. Soon, dad leaves mom and the kids for a younger woman. Life falls apart, and a year later, no one has yet been capable of putting the pieces back together. No American dream here. Just heartache, frustration, worries that keep mom up all night, and a baby that screams way too much. Let's try again.

Enter Family B. Dad owns his own company, and works from home selling shares of his business. Mom also works from home, and, again, makes more money than dad. A pretty blue-eyed little girl named Annika (1), and her full-time nanny, Brittany, complete this family. Again, big house, nice cars, expensive clothes. They must have it all together, right? Nope. Mom hates dad, and would leave if it wasn't for the child. A few months ago, mom was pregnant with her second child, but lost the baby. Oh, and did I mention that dad's business is having problems? No American dream here, either. Just bitterness, rage, and despair, coupled with parents who aren't really sure they want to be parents most days. Let's try again.

Enter Family C. Single mom bought a house in this neighborhood with money from an inheritance. She has one son, Cody (8). Mom spends her days lounging around the pool in her bikini, flirting with all the single young men in the neighborhood. The easy life, right? Well, a few months ago mom gets busted for selling drugs out of her house. She is put on probation. And if that wasn't enough, the other day she came home and found her roommate dead in the garage, from an apparent suicide attempt. Definitely no American dream here. Just legal issues, hopelessness, and addiction. We'll give this one more try.

Enter Family D. Dad works in the film business, and rubs elbows with the rich and famous almost daily. Mom is able to be a full-time mom to two beautiful little girls, red-headed Maddie (4) and sweet baby Riley (1). This family has it all. Mom and dad love each other, the girls have everything they could dream of. Except for the occasional cranky child, this is a content family. Then yesterday happened. While playing in the yard with some of the neighbor children, a car pulls up in front of Family D's house. A social worker from DHS gets out, and takes mom and dad inside. Mom is accused of abusing her four-year-old child. Life shatters for this family. Mom gets in the car and runs away. No American dream. Just lies, deceit, and helplessness. More like the American nightmare.

So what is my point in singling out these families? My point is that happiness and contentment are not found in the American dream. There is no American dream. If we chase careers and chase images, we are simply chasing the wind. This world has pain. People die, lies are told, and we make bad choices. It is only through Jesus that we can make our way through the ugliness of this world, and I wish very much that I could hand Jesus to every one of these families. If Jesus were in these situations, it wouldn't necessarily make them disappear or be easier, but at least they would know who is in control. It would turn the lies into truth, and give them something worthwhile to chase after. The American dream never stays dream-like forever. Without Jesus it turns into the American nightmare. Without Jesus, suburbia is hell.

A Little Laugh...

I have chased so many deep thoughts today, and had so many serious issues to deal with, that I don't think I can pick just one to write about. So instead, I'd like to share my funniest moment of the day.

I picked up my newest kids, Sydney (6) and Carson (2), this afternoon and took them home. Usually when we get there, there is a key under the front door mat to open the door with. Today, Deana forgot to leave the key. Minor problem. I looked at the kids and told them that there was no key, and I was going to go call their mom and ask her what she wanted me to do. Before I had the phone open, Sydney looked at me and without missing a beat said, "Why don't you just use a credit card?". I looked at her like she had two heads, and then pondered the thought. "Well, it isn't dead bolted, so maybe it would work." I went to the car, got a credit card, and proceeded to break into the house, on the advice of a six-year-old. Fabulous.

Later, when I told Deana about it, I couldn't help but laugh about the fact that this child, at the age of six, has already perfected her breaking and entering skills. Which, I guess, isn't really a bad skill to have. :)