I hope you'll join me.

 

 

I'm writing over at Joli Blog today. 

 

I'm sharing our amazing journey to this cutie-patootie...

 

 

 

I hope you'll join me!

 

He makes a way, where there is no way.

 

Be blessed!



Where I find myself.

 

 

 

 

When my daughter was about 3 years old,

we attended an out of state family reunion for my side of the family.

 

My family is quite large,

 being that I have oodles of siblings. Twelve to be exact.

We're more like a litter actually.

When we all get together it can be quite overwhelming for even us "big kids".

 

We arrived early to take in as much of the weekend as possible and soak up as many hugs and laughs as we could.

 

It was the first time my little one had been around so many family members at one time.

 

As the cars pulled up and the adults and children poured from their vehicles,

I could see that she was getting a little apprehensive toward the whole "reuniting" of the family members.

 

In no time, there were people everywhere.

 Adults were laughing and hugging.

Children were running around, playing and giggling loudly.

Unfamiliar faces were running past her, some stopping to question her name and some stooping down to kiss her on the cheek.

Everyone scurried around, to either greet the next family to arrive or gather up the covered meal brought with happy smiles.

The environment around her became quite busy, rather quickly.

 

For this little one, it was even more overwhelming.

 

After everyone had arrived,

I sat down on the porch swing and began to visit with a couple of my sisters.

 

We began talking, laughing and reminiscing with one another.

 

When...

I felt a little tug on my leg.

 

As I finished my sentence, I looked down and there was my little girl,

a little sweaty and smelly from the morning's overwhelming adventure,

urging me to let her sit on my lap.

 

I pulled her up and she nestled herself on my lap, fitting perfectly in the crook of my arm.

As her little body finished snuggling next to me, she let out a deep sigh.

 

And there she sat for the next hour,

looking and taking in all of the busyness around her...

but from the comfort of my lap.

 

I don't know if it was the fear of the unknown,

the busy crowd that had finally been too much for her,

the questioning of unfamiliar faces,

the dozens of wet kisses,

 if she just needed to sit in her safe place needing a rest,

if she just needed to reassure herself, amongst the dozens of faces, who she belonged to,

or if she needed to see things from a different view.

 

Whatever it was,

she had found it sitting on my lap for those 60 minutes.

 

She never moved. She sat still as could be.

I could feel her little racing heart as it slowed down in relaxation with every passing minute.

 

 

Then,

without a notice or a warning...

she made another deep sigh,

looked up at me smiling sweetly,

and climbed down off my lap to rejoin the children playing.

 

In the quiet, she had found what she had searched for.

 

 

Psalm 91:2

This I declare about the LORD:

He alone is my refuge,

 my place of safety;

 He is my God, and I trust him.

 

 

This is where I find myself lately...

tugging on His leg,

needing to climb up on my Father's lap,

nestling myself in the crook of His arm.

 

 

Maybe it's the fear of the unknown,

this sometimes overwhelming, but wonderful new journey we are on,

the busy crowd around me that seems to be too much lately,

the dozens of questions from onlookers and doubters,

the need for my safe place to find rest,

 just needing to see things from a different view... 

or maybe,

 just maybe,

 to remind myself to Whom I belong.

 

No matter what it is,

I find it nestled in Him, in His presence, on His lap.


Psalm 18:35
You give me your shield of victory, and your right hand sustains me; you stoop down to make me great.

I find what it is my heart searches for. 

In the stillness. In who He is.
 

In Him...is where I find myself.

 

 

Psalm 91:1

Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

 

 

As I get snuggled in closely to Him, letting out a deep sigh,

He catches every apprehensive breath I take and gives me new breath to breathe.

Reviving my soul within the quiet,
and settling my heart with each passing moment.

 

Giving me what I need to continue on this journey.

 

 

I am the daughter of the King.

Who is not moved by the world.

For my God is with me and goes before me.

I do not fear because I am His.

 

 

Psalm 119:57-64

You are my portion, Lord;
    I have promised to obey your words, I have sought your face with all my heart;
    be gracious to me according to your promise.
 I have considered my ways and have turned my steps to your statutes.
 I will hasten and not delay to obey your commands.
 Though the wicked bind me with ropes,  I will not forget your law.
At midnight I rise to give you thanks for your righteous laws.
 I am a friend to all who fear you, to all who follow your precepts.
 The earth is filled with your love, Lord;  teach me your decrees.

 

 

 



What's your name?

 

 

 

 

 

Psalm 16:11

Thou wilt make known to me the path of life;

In Thy presence is fulness of JOY;

In Thy right hand there are pleasures forever.

 

 

My children and I participated in a service project for our

Homeschool group the week of Valentine's Day.

 

 

We made handmade Valentines cards and handed them out to the elderly residents at a local nursing home.

 

We went room to room handing out our little love notes and visiting with them.

 

I'm happy to say that my kids really enjoyed it.

 

But most of all...the residents were tickled that we took our time to pour some love on them.

 

Their faces lit up when they saw the children, and even more when they saw their Valentine cards.

 

There were many rooms to cover, so our homeschool group split up and each took a hallway.

 

My two children and I walked up and down the hallway making sure we did not miss anyone.

 

We approached a room that was lit up bright, but very quiet.

 

There was a woman lying in a bed near the window with her face towards the wall.

 

As we walked in, I announced us with a "hello", but she never turned to see who we were.

 

We walked on the opposite side of her bed, near the window, when I realized that she could not move her neck to greet us.

 

She was paralyzed in one position with her face looking towards the wall.

 

My heart broke for her.

 

I bent down close to her so she could see me, then told her why we were there and showed her the Valentines card we had for her.

 

She grinned a huge grin and said "thank you", then asked if my two children would come close to her so she could see them.

 

Her face radiated.

 Her skin was flawless, a soft pasty white.

 And she had the bluest eyes.

They looked transparent, and glistened like the ocean.

 

I bent close to her once more, so she could see my face, and then I asked her,

"What's your name?"

 

She responded,

"Joyce. My name is Joyce."

 

I answered back,

"Well that's a beatiful name. It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Joyce."

 

She smiled a big smile and said,

"It's nice to meet you.  What's your name?"

And before I could answer her question, she says excitedly,
"Your name is Joy."

 

I responded back,

"No ma'am. My name is Tammy."

 

She looked at me intently and repeated,

"Your name is Joy."

 

I giggled and said back to her,

"Well thank you, but my name is Tammy."

 

She said back to me,

"No, your name is Joy."

 

To which I gave in and said,

"Okay. I'll take the name Joy, if that's what you want to call me."

 

She smiled looking pleased at my response and said,

"Yes. Tammy Joy. That is your name. You are Joy."

 

I then patted her on her tiny fragile shoulder and we said our goodbyes.

 

I thought about her sweet response to my name and her unforgettable face for a few days after.

 

It lingered with me. Resonating in my spirit.

 

About a week later, I was in the bathtub, talking to God and listening to worship music.

 

Yes...this is my best time to talk to God.

 

It's one of the only times I have to myself and a good place to tuck away from the busyness of the world around me.

 

I laid back in the tub, dunking my entire head under the water, watching the steam rise up around me.

 My ears were silenced.

I closed my eyes and allowed the world to disappear for those few moments.

 

I thought of her...Mrs. Joyce.

I saw her sweet face and her blue transparent eyes.

I heard her voice saying, "You are Joy", and I smiled under the water.

 

Then,

just as if He were standing right in front of me,

God's voice whispered softly in my water covered ears...

 

"That's what you are to Me. You are my Joy. You have always been my Joy and you always will be. You are Joy."

 

The tears began to flow and trinkle into the water around me.

They were unstoppable.

 

I cried with my entire body,

 shaking, trembling, and pouring out years and years of pain right there in the bathtub.

I sat in the tub motionless,

crying,

 until the water was cold and chilly.

 Until, all those years of heaviness and pain left my body.

 

I've spent my whole life haunted by a name that wasn't meant for me.

 

That name was "pain".

 

I was the 8th child born to a very broken family, three months after my Father's vasectomy.
Needless to say, I was quite unexpected.

It was a yours, mine and ours kind of family that screamed for help in every way...
a family that desperately needed God.

Their lives were already spilling over with chaos and plenty of children,

I was the last thing my mother wanted or needed.

She found herself in a desperate place.

She drank herself in a stooper the entire pregnancy for me,

in an attempt to miscarry me.

 

She told me from the time I could understand words,

 that she was miserable her entire pregnancy for me,

 and that she cried every day because I was the last thing she wanted at the time.

 

She told me that I was the reason why she was overweight.

She said she had become so depressed when she had me, that she began having an eating disorder.

 

All I ever knew, was that I had caused her pain.

 

Lots and lots of pain.

Maybe those were words she had heard whispered into her own life.
Maybe those were the only words she knew, so they just fell down to me.
Maybe it was the only way she knew how to love.

Whatever the case, those words soaked into me.
It doesn't mean they were true, it's just what I was told.
At the time, I had no other truth offered to me.
 

 

Throughout my life, when things would go sour, I blamed myself.

I blamed myself for the pain in all of my relationships.

I closed off from people that I loved, because I thought that if I removed myself from them,

they wouldn't have pain in their life.

I thought I was doing them a favor in some way.

 

I blamed myself when my marriage went bad.

If only I didn't cause pain, he wouldn't be so angry and miserable all the time.

Maybe he would love me enough to straighten up his life.
Maybe we could finally find happiness.

 

I blamed myself for my many miscarriages.

If only I didn't cause pain, God would give me more children.

 

I identified with the story of Jabez in the Bible.

I can laugh as I say this now, but I felt as though he was my brother from another mother.

His mother named him Jabez, meaning "pain",

 because she experienced so much pain during his birth.

What a label to carry around? What a name to be called?

Even so...I felt his anguish. I knew his pain. I could relate.

 

I memorized the Jabez prayer and made it my anthem,

"Oh God, that you would bless me and enlarge my territory!

 Let your hand be with me, and keep me from harm so that I will not cause pain."

 

I prayed with every fiber in me, that He would make my life bring joy to others,
 and not so much pain.

 

In an attempt to try and fix what I thought I was, I became a perfectionist.
If I were perfect, then I would have no way of causing pain to someone else...
or so I thought.

I obsessed about everything, became an over achiever, and created a fake cold stale world to live in.

 It sent me spiraling down a road of misery, including an eating disorder,
 the same one that afflicted my mother.

It ripped away my joy.

 

Oh, on the outside I smiled,

and made it look like I had it all together.

 But on the inside,

I was a big hot emotional mess. A train wreck!

I felt like a failure who just caused pain wherever I went.

 

I had believed every lie that was spoken over me. Every last one.

I listened to the enemy, the accuser, the puppet master of lies.

 

And now, today...somewhere deep inside, part of me still believed it.

 

I knew that I had been redeemed and changed by God when I took Him in as Savior of my life,

but I failed to do one thing.

 

I failed to let go of that old name tag, the one that the enemy had stuck on me since my conception.
I held on to it. Maybe thinking I deserved it instead of what God had for me.

Maybe, I folded it up and placed it in my back pocket, just in case, down the road,

 I would fail God and cause Him pain too.

 

But how many of you know, that when God takes control of your life...

He tears off that old name tag,

and He gives you a new one!

 

He gives you the name you were meant to carry all along.

The one He set aside just for you!

One filled with love and with His stamp of grace upon it!
 

 

2 Corinthians 5:17

Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.

God doesn't see the old you, or the old name you used to wear,
He only sees the new you!

The old man, the old name, is gone--VAMOOSE--and new things are happening!


He is the creator of all things new!

It's who He is.

He is newness of life. He is the Redeemer!
He rescues. He saves. He delivers.

 

When I accepted Him as Lord of my life I was reborn, and I had finally heard the real TRUTH spoken over me. And I needed a new name to go with my new birth.

 

God changes our name, not because we have changed on the outside,

but because we have changed on the inside.

There is a transformation that happens within us.

He gives us a new name, because our status changes.

 

Just as a soldier in the army changes rank, going from Private to Corporal.

His status changed, so his name must change.

When we become Christ followers, our status changes.

 

We are now a part of His Kingdom!

We are heirs of His blessing!


Romans 11:17
"But some of these branches from Abraham's tree-some of the people of Israel-have been broken off. And you Gentiles, who were branches from a wild olive tree, have been grafted in. So now you also receive the blessing God has promised Abraham and his children, sharing in the rich nourishment from the root of God's special olive tree." (NLT)
 

And one day, one glorious day,
we will wear the name Sergeant First Class, as we live eternally with Him in Heaven!

When you...yes you,
took Jesus Christ as your Savior, something supernatural took place.
There was a shift in your status.
You were made new and renamed by the blood of the Risen Lamb!
You belong to the Father!

1 Peter 2:9

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.

 

This isn't something that God has just started doing.
 

God has been in the name changing business for a long time...

 

He changed Abram to Abraham, meaning "father of a great multitude".

 Abraham became just that, a father of many nations!

God gave him and his decendants His inheritance!

(Genesis 17:5-8, Romans 4:17)

 

He changed Abram's wife's name Sarai to Sara, meaning "mother of nations".

God showed Sara that her own efforts were in vain, but with God's grace everything is possible.

(Genesis 17:15-16)

 

He changed Simon to Peter, meaning "the rock".

Jesus said to him, "Upon this rock, I will build my church."

And He did!

(John 1:42, Matthew 16:17-19)

 

He changed Saul to Paul, meaning "small or humble".

Paul humbled Himself before the Lord, so that God was greater in His life than anything else, and God used Him greatly.

He turned from persecutor to apostle.

 He went on to write 2/3 of the New Testament!

(Acts 9:1-6, 10-16)

 

He changed Jacob to Israel, meaning "having power with God".

Jacob had wrestled with man and with God and had overcome!

God used Him mightily and blessed Him greatly!

(Genesis 35:10, 31:1-32)

 

He changed my name from Tammy "thought to cause pain", to Tammy JOY!
Joy means "a feeling of great pleasure and happiness, delight, gladness, mirth, something to be rejoiced or celebrated."
God has showed me that I am someone worth celebrating!
He has showed me that through Him and because of His grace,  I am made whole...
in every way!
 

God is in the name changing business!

 

He has a new name for you!

 

He wants to whisper that new name into your heart!

 

He probably already has!

Maybe you just don't know it,  because you haven't let go of your old name.

If you are reading this right now...

I encourage you today, to let it go!
Don't let one more day go by allowing that name to control or harm you.
Rip that old name tag off. Surrender it to God.
He wants so much for you to know how loved you are,
 how great the sound of your name is upon His ears,
 and how adored you are.
 

 His name for you is much sweeter and filled with blessing and freedom!

 

Not only did I carry the name "pain" on my collar, but I believed that I actually was pain.

As God spoke into my heart with His name for me,

all of that pain began to pour out of me.

All the pain that I thought I caused, I had become,
 and just with the whisper of His voice calling me by my new name, it began seaping from me.

 

As it literally dripped off of me, I felt light and free, almost airy.

I had carried the burden of that name "pain" for so long, that it began to weigh me down.

 

I am so excited to say, that I am finally free of it!

Free of the weight and the burden of a name that wasn't mine to hold.

I realized that my new name is something I have to conciously decide to take on every day.
I have to choose to let go of the old name, the old me.
The enemy will try to remind me of what I am not,
but God continues to remind me of what I am!

I am His.
 I am a new creation with a new name!
He calls me His Beloved.
 

 

What name are you holding onto?

What label have you been wearing for way too long?

What name or names have been spoken over you and battered you around your whole life?
What name clouds your hearing to where you can't hear God calling you?

 

Is it failure?

Is it worthless?

Is it pain?

Is it addict?

Is it burden?

I'm sure the enemy has a list that goes on and on.
 

 

Let me let you in on something...

the enemy is a liar!

 And he has a sack full of lies for you and for me.

 He will either tell you those lies himself,

or use the mouth of someone else to whisper those lies to you.

He wants to shame you.

 

He wants you to believe his lies so that you will not become what God has called you to be.

 

But God...
He cannot lie.

He only offers truth.

 

 

Numbers 23:19

God is not man, that he should lie, or a son of man, that he should change his mind.
Has he said, and will he not do it? Or has he spoken, and will he not fulfill it?

He loves you for who you are!
He can't love you any more or any less than He already does.

 

He offers everlasting life with His truth and with the name that He has for you.

His name will not shame you, nor make you feel less of who you are.

 

His name will lift you up.
It will give you purpose. It will give you hope!

 

His name for you is sweet as honey and brings a smile to His face.

 

He has it written on the palm of His hand and when He looks upon it,

He smiles and calls you His Beloved.
He marvels in you and celebrates your very creation.

He has called you Redeemed!

 

His name for you will bring glory to Him.

It will bring peace and joy to you.

 It will put praise in your heart and a song on your lips!

You will want nothing else but to worship Him, the very reason we were created.
 

There is a song by D. J. Butler titled I Will Change Your Name.

I hope these lyrics speak to your heart...

I will change your name
You shall no longer be called
Wounded, outcast, lonely or afraid
I will change your name
Your new name shall be
Confidence, joyfulness, overcoming one
Faithfulness, friend of God
One who seeks My face.

 

So, I ask you...what's your name?

Seek after God's heart today and find out who you really are.

Allow Jesus, the Name above all names, to speak over you.

Let Him tell you who He says you are!
 

Don't you hear Him calling you?


 

Isaiah 51:3

 The LORD will surely comfort Zion and will look with compassion on all her ruins; he will make her deserts like Eden, her wastelands like the garden of the LORD.

Joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the sound of singing.

 

 

Romans 15:13

Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing,

that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                      -Tammy

 

 



His best for me...

 

 

 

I'm writing over at Joli Women's Ministry today.

We are discussing Ch. 1 of Ann Voskamp's book "One Thousand Gifts."

 

 

Here's a little glimpse...

 

I've questioned God and His will for me.

In the midst of pain, I have questioned what He considers "the best" for me.

I've said to Him on more than one occasion,

"Okay God, this is NOT what I signed on for."

And even though, most of the answers to those questions still remain a mystery to me and I still ask them from time to time, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the same God who holds that mystery, holds me and loves me

with everything that He is.

And even though I believe at times that His "best for me" can use a little tweaking,

when I don't understand why things happen,

I know that all things work together for my good.

 

 

 

 Click on the button below to read the rest:

 

 

 

 

Have a blessed weekend!

 

 



My Story: Breaking Free

Both faith and fear sail into the harbor of your mind, but only faith should be allowed to anchor.
~~Author unknown





At the age of sixteen, I found my first love.
He was God fearing, funny and made my heart smile.
He played the guitar and sang and I was swept away with his melody.
He took me away from the horror that loomed at home, each time we were together.
I saw in him strength and courage.
He was dedicated to the same Savior as I.
I saw in him something I needed and longed for.
I saw in him, security in Christ.

My mother kept her eye close so not to allow me to get too attached.
It happened anyway, and she began to become angry.
I was only allowed to worship her, and the competition became too much for her.
Maybe, she thought she would lose me.
Lose the loyalty that she had built in fear.

We had went on a date one night, to a friend's house for dinner.
He returned me home before curfew, as always, because he respected my mother's rules and I...well, I feared being late even by one second.
We had a few moments to spare, so we sat in his car in the driveway and talked.
We laughed, and I felt safe within the space we shared when we were together.

We said our goodbyes and I unlocked the door to my house.
I entered, turned around and locked the door closed.
As I turned around, the sudden blow to my face took me off guard.
She began hitting me over and over in my face.
I began to cry out for her to stop, but she took it as disrespect, and began yanking at my hair,  dragging my head from side to side.

She backed away screaming profanities at me.
Some new, some I had heard before.
The taste of blood from my lip pressed on my tongue.

As I looked up, her eyes were filled with darkness and my heart raced within the unknown.

She came close to me screaming and accusing me of sleeping with my boyfriend.
Calling me horrible filthy names.
Names drenched in anger.
Words that made my innocence seem dirty and shameful.


I tasted her breath and it made me nautious.
The foul smelling aroma of lies filled the air.
I tried to correct her and tell her no, that we were just talking, but she screamed louder and came closer.
She glared at me with eyes that made my body tremble and began spitting in my face, telling me I was dirty and needed to ask God to clean me.

She said crying, "God doesn't like dirty girls!  Your a liar! Ask Him to forgive you!"

I cried as my voice trembled and tried one last time to deny her untruths.

She lashed at me with hurtful words saying, "You make me sick!" and my heart cracked with the sound of each crushing word.

She reared back, and hit me one last time with the back of her hand.
Her ring cutting my face.
Blood mixed with the warmth of my tears, streamed down my cheek.
I stooped to the floor, pushing my body up against the door, in a hope to escape somehow between the cracks,
and fade away from the moment.

I wonder now, were those the words that her father branded her with?
  Words thats he shot at her, to gain control over her and use her for his disposal.
Words that knocked her down each time she tried to stand on her weak trembling legs.
 Words that still echoed within the secret places of her heart.
Words that overshadowed her entire life.
Words that dug deeper and deeper with each whisper.
Words, that had surfaced in her memory that night, bringing with it a pain unbearable.

She bent down, gritted her teeth within her growl and told me that I needed to do what she said.
She said she was tired and I had disturbed her sleep with the lies I told.

Fear rose up within me like a hot flame and I was consumed by the moment.
My legs became hot and wet, as the overwhelming fear caused me to lose function of my bladder, right there on the floor, crunched up against the door.

It wasn't the first time her anger had scared me to that point, and sadly, it wouldn't be the last.
Darkness loomed.
I began to sob in my embarassment.
I became breathless and weak.

I pushed the words out, my voice shaking, just so that she would be happy and leave me to my embarassment and fear.
I wanted to be left alone, to sit in my misery.
She listened intently.
 Without another sound, or another word spoken, she went to bed.

I began to clean up, once again, the mess that I had created.
The pain that I had brought.

I cried myself to sleep that night, and many nights after.
I had reached a point of no return.

I hated her and everything about her.


Something began to grow within the depths of my soul.
The need to break free filled every ounce of me.



My heart lay confused within my chest as I questioned Him.
"Why God, why am I here?"

 My thoughts captive by her control.

My soul, longing for peace and freedom.


Out of suffereing have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.
~~E.H.Chapin

Things went on as they should.  That night was never talked about or brought up again.
I knew better than to relive it and reawaken her anger.

I knew my best choice was just to go along as nothing ever happened.
A smile on my face and a cheery attitude was best.
It became a mask that I would continually wear and never take off, even in the hardest moments.

My relationship with my boyfriend began to dwindle fast and within a few months we were very distant, and soon after no longer together.
My heart ached and my body felt a physical pain.

She taunted me with the break up, making fun of my pain and anguish.
Relishing in her victory.

I tucked my feelings down within the smallest pockets of my heart, so not to upset her with my grief.

In time, I was able to see that it was for the best, and going our separate ways was part of a bigger plan than I couldn't see at the time.

I held tightly to the moments I was able to soak up within our relationship.

He had been an outlet for me.
I was able to go to church more, soak up the Word more, draw from The Well of Life that I so badly needed.
I played over and over in my mind, the lyrics of worship songs that reminded me of Jesus' love for me.

 I began to feel a small spark of hope within me.

That spark of hope was the beginning of strength.



I John 4:4
Greater is He that is in me, than he that is in the world.


I spent most of my spare time singing.
I loved the melody and words that sprang from my heart and mouth.

I slowly began to see that I was made for more.
Made for more than pain.

I was made to lift my voice in praise to my Father.
Even if it were only Him listening, I was going to sing.
He was my hope.

There is a Hope
no matter what happens.
There is a hope
that overcomes all.
You can stand on the promise Jesus never fails.
Even if the world should fall,
There is a hope
 through all of life's changes.
There is a God whose always the same.
Hope does not depend on only what is seen.
Hope is found believing in His name.
There is a hope
There is a hope in Him
There is a hope in Jesus.

lyrics to There is a Hope, by Truth.


As the music continued to rise out of me,  hope and strength continued to build up within my heart.
I felt His presence all around me.
Somehow amongst the turmoil,
 His love covered me like a warm blanket from the cold wind,
reminding me that I was His, and He was right there with me.
His Light breaking through the darkness.
His Grace flooding in, swooping up, and holding tightly.


Psalm 119:105
Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.



Still I knew, what her anger was capable of, so I treaded not on her angry feelings.

And yet, they came, with full force and without a moment's notice.

Hurt washed in with the tide of each new day.
I knew nothing but to just keep moving on with a smile.

Faith is this unwavering trust in the heart of God in the hurt of here.
~~Ann Voskamp


It was the beginning of my Senior year of highschool when I would lock eyes with someone new.
Someone who would change my life.

We were in the same Biology class together and I was taken away by his quiet demeanor, strong walk and beautiful smile.

I felt an immediate connection with him even before we first spoke.

There was something that felt safe and familiar about him, and I did all I could to get closer to him.
I desperately wanted to be with him.

We began as friends and within a few months we began dating.

My life had new meaning, and hope continued to build inside of me.

He became my safe place to fall, a place to unveil my fears and my dreams.
A place to laugh and be loved without regret.
I melted inside the beauty of his eyes and cradled myself in his arms, knowing it was the place I was meant to be.
He respected me, who I was, and who I wanted to remain.

He too had been hurt, and we comforted eachother with our time and words.
Our love filling the void that was so evident in each of us.
He listened closely and with hope, as I revealed my love for God and His gift of salvation.

He soon gave his heart to Jesus and was baptized in our bathtub, coming up a new creature craving God's goodness and life.

Our love for one another grew even stronger.

He became a source of joy and strength for me, encouraging me that my life was meant for more than just the hurt my mother had to give.

We were together about a year, and my mother began to see herself losing control again.

She began to lash out at him, and whisper lies to me, to try and get me to let go of him and cling back on to her.

It was too late.
My strength had grown and the new found hope ran through my veins like a rushing river.
Nothing, not even her control, was going to keep me from him.

Everytime we were together we talked and dreamed of a future together.

At the young age of eighteen, on a small park bench, next to a flowing lake, with the sun setting behind us, he knelt down, placed a tiny delicate ring on my finger, and asked me to spend my future with him.

There in the beauty of the orange glowing sun, we pledged our love to one another and promised that we would be together for a lifetime.

Promising, no matter what life would bring, to never let each other go.
In that special moment, hope overflowed from our hearts.

After graduation, we both began working summer jobs.
Determined to make a life together, we knew we would need to have something solid to build it on.

To my dismay,
each check I brought in, my mother demanded that I give it to her and spent the money where ever she pleased.

Still, it did not discourage me.
By this time, I knew my Father had better plans for me and one day He was going to free me of her control and the pain that followed.

I prayed for that one day to come each and every night.

I prayed for peace within the storm.
It would eventually come in a way I never expected.

After a heated argument and another attempt of her controlling my every thought and step, she would pour out her rage on me.

This time, she would have my sister pack my things and have them waiting for me when I returned home.

As I saw the remains of my life sitting on the wet grass, that spark of hope became a flame burning within me.

I looked at him, and he looked at me.

We knew without any words spoken, that one day had finally come.

Freedom was beckoning to my heart.
We quickly gathered my things and loaded them in his car.

And without saying goodbye to her, I left.

I left her.

Not looking back.

Scared out of my mind, yet excited for anything but what I knew to be true within my life with her.

Little did I know, I had not left her, only placed her tightly in a napsack over my shoulder.

She would begin to show up, in the least likely of places.

Even with no invitation.

I don't know what the future holds,

 but I know who holds the future.
~~Author unknown

My story: Fear Not

Love is what we are born with.  Fear is what we learned here.

~~Author unknown.

We were watching television the other day when a preview of a scarey movie flashed on the screen.
My little guy rushed over to me, buried his face into my chest and said,
"I'm scared Mom, tell me when the scarey part is over."

I placed my hand on his head and rubbed my fingers through his hair.
"It's okay, it's just makeup and stuff.  It's not real."

With his face buried firmly into my chest and his little trembling body curled closely next to mine, he muffled,
"I don't care. I'm scared. I'm just gonna stay here with you where it's safe, until it's all over."




Psalm 56:9-11
When I cry unto thee, then shall mine enemies turn back: this I know; for God is for me. In God will I praise his word: in the LORD will I praise his word. In God have I put my trust: I will not be afraid what man can do unto me.

I don't remember the first time that I felt fear.
I just remember it was always with me, like an unwanted friend who wouldn't leave.
Without a moments notice, it would appear pulling me down a dark road that I did not want to go.
My thoughts would wander, and the fear would consume me.
As a small child, I would lay in bed at night, my body sweating profusely underneath the covers.
Fear weighed heavily on my chest.
Images of dark shadows would engulf my mind.
I could feel it's presence as it creeped and circled.
I had wished it was only something that a young child normally felt, but it followed me into my teenage years, like a thick dark cloud.
It was all around me,
an unexplainable darkness.
I feared anything and everything.
I feared people.
I even feared being afraid.


By the time I reached my Sophomore year of highschool, there were just two of us left at home with our Mom.
Everyone else had left to pursue their lives and create families of their own.
They didn't visit much, and I can't say that I blame them for that.

My sister and I began to carry a very heavy load.
The outpouring signs of my mother's depression and bi-polarism hit a record high.
It was very evident to me by now, that she was not well.

She was sick. Real sick.
Things were bad. Real bad.

She was manic most of the time, and we never knew when or what would set her off.
Our lives were surrounded with the sound of crackling egg shells, as we walked within the war zone that was our every day life.
Never knowing what she would do, or what she was capable of,
my fear continued to grow.

My mother would read me scriptures about fear, and pray with me.
She told me how God would help me be strong and courageous.
She told me that above all else, I could depend on Him.
 Then moments later, one of her "episodes" would come up out of nowhere.
The anger and sound of her voice would send fearful chills down my spine, rattling me to my bones.
She helped me and hurt me all in the same breath.

I heard things no child should hear.
I witnessed things no child should see.
I endured things no child should endure.
I did things no child should ever do.

Fear continued to grow it's monstrous head all around me.

2 Timothy 1:7
For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.


Fear invited it's friend confusion along to play with my thoughts.
I felt surrounded with no way out, as they pulled and tugged at me.
They snickered and hissed at me as they toyed with my mind.
They told me I was weak, that I was stuck, and that my future was dim.

I began to realize, that fear and confusion had been my mother's unwanted friends as well.

They had set up camp at our door step.
They welcomed themselves without invitation and they weren't leaving.
They brought havoc and destruction.


One minute all was good...

I watched as my mother spoke to a countless number of people, sharing God's love with them.
I watched as she witnessed to others, and said the sinners' prayer with them, watching as they entered as new beings into the family of God.
I listened as she spoke of what God had done in her life and within her family, healing the brokenness between her and her father.
I watched as she offered grace and forgiveness to those who hurt her.
I watched in awe as she spoke wisdom and healing into their lives.
I watched as her face lit up at the mention of His name.
I watched her glow as she shared His good news with others.
I listened as she praised Him with her whole heart.
I honored her.
I loved her.
I felt safe with her.


And then the next minute...

I watched as she lay crying out to God in her bed, begging Him to take her home and away from her miserable existance.
I watched as her face would change from mood, to mood, to terrible mood.
I watched as she held a knife to her chest, screaming out that she was going to end it all.
Ending a lifetime of pain.
I paniced as I hid her medications from her fearing that she would take her own life.
I watched as she wrestled the demons in her mind.
I felt as her pain became my pain.
I felt as her fingernails pierced blood from my arms as she grabbed me demanding that I listen to her and honor her.
I felt as the sting of her hand hit my face, and the tug of her hand pulled out my hair, because of what she felt was my dishonor towards her.
I listened to her, as the demons lashed at me, tearing at my heart.
I felt the warmth of the tears as they streamed down my face as I begged for her forgiveness.
I felt as my body trembled in fear and poured with sweat.
I honored her.
I loved her.
I feared her.


I wondered, how long fear and confusion had befriended her.
I wondered how long they had kept her bound.
I wondered how long had they hissed in her ear telling her that her future was dim.
I wonder now,
 if they had haunted my family generation, after generation, after generation.

I needed to break free from their clinches.
It was time for the cycle to be broken.
It was time to tell them to leave.
To tell them they were no longer welcome.

Isaiah 41:13
For I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.


I know many people who have horror stories attached to their years of highschool.
Just the thought of it brings hard memories and ill feelings.
Highschool was a place of torture and pain in many ways for them.
My heart feels sorrow for them, but at the same time,
I can't relate to that.
The memories I have bring me to a warm place within my heart.
Highschool was a safe place for me.
It was where I could escape the crackling sounds of the eggshells.
It was seven hours in the day that I could be free from the fear and controlling ways of my mother.
I came out from under the thick dark cloud that loomed.
Where I could speak freely and think clearly.
Where I could laugh contently.
Where I could share my emotions.
Where I was heard.
Where I could walk in peace.
Where I felt joy.

As soon as the bus would arrive at my driveway at the end of the school day, and the doors would swing open, my heart would become restless and fear would begin to beat through my heart.

Never knowing what awaited me beyond the threshhold of my house.
Home was torture for me.
Home was not the place I wanted to be.
Home was where fear breathed like fire, burning it's mark on me.
Home was where confusion taunted me.
It was where pain lived and thrived.
Home was where she was.

I had been taught that home was where you were supposed to feel sheltered and protected.
A place to feel safe, and to grow.
My house was far from that.
I needed to find my home.





Isaiah 43:5
Fear not, for I am with you.


In my quiet moments,
when my mother was settled,
 or passed out from the mood altering medications,
 I would find a glimpse of Home.
I would sneak off to my room and close my door,
shutting off from the madness that lurked on the other side.
I would find it within Him.
Within reading the life breathing Words He spoke and the pages that filled my soul.
It was in writing, and allowing my feelings to pour onto the pages from my pen.
It was in my prayers to Him.
It was where I could be me.
Where I could find strength.

It was in His presence that I felt safe.
I knew that He was Home for me.
I knew that He was with me.
He was my safe place in the midst of the fear and confusion.
He was the strength during my weakness.
I know now that the strength I needed from Him,
was to endure the fear that she was handing out to me.
The same fear that grew wildly throughout my life.
He was my peace amongst the pain.
The true Friend I needed and wanted.

He spoke life into me with the Words that I read.
I knew that He held the world in the hollow of His palm.
 He could surely hold me.
He could surely take my fear.
He could surely save me.
It was there within His presence,
 that I would bury my face firmly into His chest, curl my trembling soul next to Him, close my eyes and feel safe.  Knowing that one day, the scarey parts would all be over.

Please Lord, just tell me when it's all over.

It was there that I prayed for Him to take away my fear.
It was there that I began to trust Him.
It was there, that I continued to cling to Him,
 knowing that He would hold my hand and lead me to a safe place.

It was there, that He did.

Psalm 27: 3-5

Though an army encamp against me,
my heart shall not fear,
though war rise up against me,
yet I will be confident.

One thing that I have asked of the Lord.
that I will seek after:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord,
and to meditate in His temple.

For He will hide me in his shelter
in the day of trouble;
He will conceal me under the cover of His tent;
He will lift me high upon a rock.

My story: Fight for me.

Deuteronomy 30:19

Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and you may love the Lord your God, listen to His voice, hold fast to Him, for He is your life.

I was eleven years old when my parents divorced.

I thought they were deeply in love.
Maybe, they were.

Who knows when things went wrong.


The fun family moments we once had, began to become far and few between.
The laughter that once filled our house, was replaced with more crying, and more tears.

They seemed to fight each time they were together.

Like gasoline and a match,

they were an explosive combination.

My dad worked away most of the time, and mom stayed home in and out of her depression.

I remember the screams and arguments that seemed to linger through the night even after they were finished arguing.

I remember my mom waking us up in the middle of the night, to pile us in the car in our pajamas, to go down to the local bar in town.

She would send one of us inside to "retrieve" him.

I went in a time or two, to find him sitting way too close to another woman.

Maybe she didn't want to see what she had already pictured in her mind.

A crazy loud argument would then begin in the parking lot of the bar.

Harsh words spoken.
Sometimes in his guilty fury he would throw a beer bottle to the ground, and the echoing sound of the glass shattering would resonate into the car.

The back seat warmed by our tearful bodies, holding our hands over our ears so not to hear the hatred in their voices.

The weeks that followed their separation, were like a blurry slow moving dream.
Our lives were shattered, and the pieces lay beneath our feet.
The sound of the crackling glass was all around us.

We were tossed to and fro for a while, then eventually we settled into a new unfamiliar home with our Mom.

The older siblings had left home by this time, doing their best to find some sense of the craziness.

The fights between my parents continued to go on for months, if not years.

Mom cried even more than before.
She mourned the loss of her marriage day in and day out.

Her depression deepened.

Her anger grew.

We didn't get to see my father often.

In my mother's mind,

 it became a choice of "who do you love more?"

"your father?"

"or me?"

With those questions, she would begin to pour out guilt upon us like acid rain.

It would begin to eat away at our lives, little by little.

We would go months, sometimes even years, without seeing our father.

He said,

he stayed away because he knew it was harder on us to see him.
 It was because of the guilt that he knew she laid on us after we saw him.
He did it to protect us from her.

She said,

that he didn't love us.
 That his new life was more important and better without us.
She did it to protect us from him.

For a daughter, in need of her father, in need of a mother, in need of something stable...neither really mattered.

The "he saids",  and "she saids" were more about protecting their own images, instead of protecting us.

I needed protection from them.

I needed someone to step up and fight for me.

Someone. Anyone.

That's all.

Just fight for me.

While dad went on with his life, we were left alone with our mother,

to become whatever it was that she needed or wanted.

I'll never forget the day I went into her room to bring her a cup of hot coffee.

It was her birthday and I wanted to surprise her and make her happy.

The need to please her would burn straight through my heart at times.

I walked in with the cup of coffee and handed it to her.

Her face was somber and blank.

She began to cry and yell for me to get out of her room,

"Get out!  It hurts too much to look at you! You look just like your father and it just breaks my heart, just like he broke it!  Are you trying to ruin my birthday?!"

Throwing the hot cup of coffee across the room, she continued to yell and scream, as I ran to my room, shut the door and cried for what seemed like hours.

I was crushed by the thought of my life bringing hers so much pain.

My mind raced with questions.
"What am I doing wrong?"
"Why isn't she happy?"
"Why am I here?"

I sat on my bed holding my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth, trying not to cry too loud so not to upset her even more...

and His voice would pierce through with a calming wave.

"I'm here.  You're not alone."

It was the first time I would hear my Father's voice.

The need to know Him would stir a hunger in my soul.

You dance over me while I am unaware

You sing all around but I never hear the sound

Lord I'm amazed by You

And how You love me.

~~Amazed song lyrics by Lincoln Brewster.

We moved around quite a bit.

My mother would "hear from the Lord" and in an instant we would pack up our house and move somewhere new.

Sometimes into a new apartment or house.

Sometimes in with people we barely knew.

Sometimes with anybody that would take us.

We never stayed very long.

It seemed as though as soon as we would get attached to new people, we would pack up and head somewhere else.

I remember one time,

we moved just because someone spoke up for us, telling her that she was abusing us, using us like her "own personal slaves".

The very next day,

we were gathering boxes to move again.

The next place we moved to, she wasn't as quick to make friends.

I attended three different schools during my four years of highschool.

It was quite exhausting at times.

Packing up.

Starting over.

Making new friends, just to lose them like all the rest.

But, we listened and followed her.

Our obedience knew no limits.

We would follow her to the end of the world if she brought us there, and she knew we would.

She had a way of controlling us that seemed almost devilish.

Almost obsessive.

However strong her need to be worshipped, our need to survive her was stronger.

 

She held her Bible in hand as she spoke her rules to us, telling us it was "what God wanted us to do to honor her", and we knew nothing better than to listen and believe that what she said was for our good.

She spoke eloquently and with wisdom when she quoted the Bible.

There was no reason not to believe her.

She was all we knew.

She...was the gospel.

With every breath, her words binded us to her.

I know now, that listening to her was much more for our safety, than our good.

But more importantly,

I knew that God was there with me, looking out for me...and I was not alone.

Song of Solomon 2:4

He has taken me to the banquet hall, and his banner over me is love.

Those few words He spoke to me in one of my loneliest moments, would carry me through some dark days.

Because with time, things would only get worse and much darker.

I just did what was needed, to get through each day, no matter what it took.

I knew I had to continue to be strong, to maybe one day, be strong enough to leave.

The only emotion I showed was happiness.

It had become my shield of strength.

A happy face.

That should keep her happy.

Sadly, it didn't.

As we somewhat settled, during our highschool years, I began to make some solid friendships with some young Christians at our school.

We didn't attend church much.

Mom was our church.

Our teacher.

Our pastor.

Our mentor.

Our everything.

She liked it that way.

Maybe it made her feel worth something.

 Worth more than she felt from deep within her brokenness.

 

On occassion, my mom would let me attend some of their youth groups and Bible studies.

It was there that I truly began to learn about God and how much He loved me.

It was there that I found out that the Gospel was to set me free, not keep me bound.

It was there, that I would find out how disfunctional and unsafe my home was.

It was there that I felt a little normal.

It was there, that I began to doubt that my mother had our best interest at heart.

It was there, that I found my voice.

The youth pastor approached me one night and asked if I would like to sing in the youth choir.

I knew my mom would not approve, but I said yes, hoping that it would be an escape of some sort.

He handed me a cassette tape and a sheet of paper with lyrics on it.

It was worship music.

Precious Lord,

Take my hand.

Lead me on.

Help me stand.

I am tired.

I am weak.

I am worn.

Through the storm, through the night.

Lead me on,

to Your Light.

take my hand, precious Lord,

and lead me home.

I would never see that youth pastor again, after my mom would find out that I accepted his invitation to join the choir.

But,

I had that tape and those lyrics.

I began listening to the tape over and over.

I began to sing the words of the songs every available moment I had.

Music had always been a big part of my life, a way that I could escape the chaos around me.

These songs were different.

They spoke directly to me.

The words of the songs would begin to pour over my life like sweet molasses, sticking with me and oozing over my tattered heart.

It was through those words that I felt His love pour into my life.

It was through those words that I would hear Him speak.

He was calling me to a new place.

A safe place.

It was through those words that I would take His hand.

It was through those words that I would find out that He would fight for me.

I knew then, that running into His arms was my only hope of survival.

Hosea 2:14

Therefore, behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her.