Weightless

I went to sleep last night with a heavy heart.  Despite spending a lot of time in prayer that evening, both for myself and others, I felt distant from my Father.  I had angry tears in my eyes as I tried to close them and go to sleep.

The dance with my bad memories had lasted longer than expected.

I thought I was free from their grip. I had claimed freedom! I had tasted freedom... yet my heart ached.

Getting to the point of freedom years ago was a very difficult road. If I wasn't free, then I was lost as to what to do.

I fell asleep asking God to show me what else I needed to do because I wanted victory in this once and for all.

While up during the night, dealing with my babies and walking deliriously through my kitchen, my eyes fell on these words I had stuck on my fridge earlier in the day:

YOU ARE ALREADY FREE.

My usual response to God at that moment would to be sarcastic. Being too tired to think, I simply read it again and walked away.

When I got up this morning (for the final time... ha), something was different. I went about the start of my normal routine and I kept coming back to the fact that I was feeling different physically. While making my lovely cup of coffee, I realized my chest felt lighter. My first thought was, "that's totally weird," then it hit me: the weight is gone.

Now, if you know me in real life, you know I'm quite overweight and definitely have some weight to lose. However, and slightly to my dismay, it wasn't that kind of weight.

My heart wasn't being crushed by a heaviness anymore.

It stopped me and I then slowly transferred that to my mind (mornings aren't my thing).

The hurt was gone. I actually had to think through the list of things that had been weighing on me lately until I finally realized those bad memories and all the hurt associated with them had been removed from my mental filing cabinet of things needing dealt with. I took a deep breath and allowed my mind to look at that file and those memories and sure enough, they were distant now and unable to bring me pain.

I took a deep breath, hoping my realization was true and I saw again on my fridge these words:

YOU ARE ALREADY FREE.

I had been free from them before, but allowed my humanness to focus on the fear, worry and distrust instead of focusing on my Father Who had already set me free. Somewhere in the night, in my tired, vulnerable state, I had accepted His word as truth and freedom reigned.

Those memories were now weightless. Never would I have to dance in fear with them again.

John 8:36~"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed."

A Dance with Memories

She stared at the picture on her phone quietly. It had been fourteen months in the process; a long year of hard work, long distance trips, cleaning, sorting, and hours of entertaining children in an empty house.

The last few months she hadn't been a part of the process. Life didn't work out that way and she was stranded in another state, in another lifetime, physically and emotionally separated from the final details.

Over and over those last few months she had heard the words, "whenever we get it ready to sell." They were repeated so often that they were merely words that held little weight. Even the week before it seemed an eternity away before the last details caused the phone call to be made, the sign to be placed, the keys relinquished, and the picture to unexpectedly arrive on her phone.

At first, there were no emotions. She was one to hide emotions, to bury them, to keep them tied down as much as possible, for nothing good ever came from them. As she stared at the sign, memories slowly began creeping back into her mind. Memories begging for attention for what might be their last appearance in her mind, as they knew this meant this would close out that chapter of her life and they may never have the chance to dance again.

Memories of her dad came first. This had been his home. This had been his last home. Despite it being eight years since his passing, she could still see him sitting in the white, plastic lawn chair every time she turned into the long drive. There he sat, waiting for whomever, with his arms folded across his belly and his wild, curly black hair waving in every direction. After he died, that chair sat there for a very long time. Even after it was gone, it was forever etched in that place and would appear when her memory collided with reality.

Her heart then ached for her little sister, who had lived in the house her entire life. She remembered the day the blanketed bundle arrived home from the hospital, screaming her big, bald head off. From that day on, it was always more her sister's home and she wondered how her sister's heart was feeling.

Random good memories then took over, taking her back to a five year old child, seeing the house for the first time. The memories began coming faster and jumbled, time jumping the three decades she had known the house.

When they slowed, her smile stayed behind.

Then the good memories stopped and as hard as she tried to distract herself into her present day responsibilities and ignore what she knew was coming, she was quickly clouded with the memories she had often prayed she'd forget.

She had settled the matter years before with God. He had taken her broken life and pieced it into a beautiful picture that only He could do. Forgiveness reigned and anger died.  Yet as much as she asked, the memories had never been taken away.  Although they didn't hold power over her the way they used to, they still affected her deeply. As they danced their dark dance into her mind and threatened her heart and stability, she was torn between fighting them off and facing them hopefully one last time.

In her eyes, the timing was horrible. She was barely surviving life at the moment and was torn between giving up the life she had or walking away into the unknown. She didn't have the strength to dance with the bad memories now. She feared they would then overtake her with their darkness and she would be lost again.

She became angry at the unfairness of their creeping in and felt as if the freedom she had claimed years before was being thrown cruelly in her face.

"I'm supposed to be free from this!" she yelled.  Angry tears flooded her eyes. She tossed her phone on the counter and began days of being filled with wild emotions, raw pain, and tiredness.

Three days later her phone went off again. She reluctantly read the message, knowing she may end up throwing her phone across the room. Instead, she read these words:

                       "The first showing was yesterday. Today those same people made an offer and we accepted it. The house is now sold."

The words stung at first, perhaps because all the good memories had winced and feared definite extinction. She reassured them that she was keeping them as long as she possibly could.

Then a peace came to her, as she realized those bad memories that continued to hold her hostage could now be let go. The place in those memories weren't a part of her life anymore and the claws of the bad memories loosened yet again.

God had freed her heart of the pain years ago.

Now He had freed her mind.

Freedom

I woke up today with the word 'freedom' on my mind.

It's a theme God has been using on me the past few weeks; reminders here and there of ways He has freed me in the past and encouragement that He can free me now.

I have a lot of resistance and reluctance to the option of being free. It makes absolutely no sense.

Hundreds of years ago, what slave wouldn't have gladly taken the option of freedom? They might have chosen to stay where they were and continue what they were doing, but with a new mindset that they were FREE. It would be a different life.

What prisoner in the local jail wouldn't run as fast as possible if suddenly taken to the door and told they were free?  It would deeply affect their life even if they didn't deserve it.

What addict wouldn't be forever grateful if they were suddenly healed and free from an addiction that had been destroying their lives? If they were given a better replacement for their choice, why wouldn't they take it?

My last example hits home for me because I've been an addict before. By nature I have high addictive tendencies. One addiction He freed me from a decade ago, yet I still find myself struggling. However, He freed me and I have no reason to want to choose that over Him. However, because of the selfish way my mind works, I still struggle.

He's freed me from a situation that harmed me in many ways. A situation that so much horribleness came from, yet when He freed me, I could see His hand and give Him all the glory. I could learn to be thankful because of this situation and use it for Him instead of giving Satan the satisfaction of ruining another life.

Every single time I've been in a place of sin, whether my sin or someone else's, He's given me a way out. He's allowed me to find a path to freedom. I've seen I Corinthians 10:13 played out in my life over and over: "No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. But God is FAITHFUL and will not allow you to be tempted more than you can handle, but with the temptation will give you a way to escape so you will be able to bear it."

There have been times I chose to ignore that path and continue in my sin, and I am extremely thankful that He didn't just let me go. He had to break me completely before I turned to Him. That stubborn heart I carry inside me has caused some deep injury several times.

I must enjoy being miserable. I must enjoy being in pain and suffering through situations that I've either caused or choose not to get out of. Otherwise I would make the right choice sooner. Again, it makes absolutely no sense.

'O ye of little faith' immediately comes to mind.

My chains this time are different than those dejected situations and chosen addictions. I see those as obvious things that can be fixed. Someone hurts you; get away from them. Chosen addiction; seek help and step away.

The battle I'm having with my own brain seems too elusive to fix.

If there was something physically wrong with my brain, such as a tumor or infection, then yes, that would be an 'easy' fix.  Some days I actually think this would be easier than the mental torture of my mind itself.

When it's an issue with my mind, my feelings, my control, it seems too far out there to be fixable.

Yes, there are medications. On them.

Yes, there are psychiatrists/psychologists who will charge me $$$ to simply listen to me. I don't trust them.

Yes, there is shock therapy.  Haha, okay, you get my drift.

Because it feels like something that isn't easily pinpointed, I don't feel fixable. I can't fix me, and that is hard for me to accept because my personality is I'm a fixer of all people.  No one else can fix me. People (who aren't professionals) don't know how to deal with people who aren't normal. They tend to ignore, overlook, or bully those who are different.

If I follow this flow chart I've made, then that leads me to this thought: then God can't fix me either.

In case you're wondering if He just rained fire and brimstone on me, He didn't. I'm still here. He knows my heart is weak and my mind is hurting and even more, He knows deep down I don't really believe that statement.

He CAN fix me.

In fact, I'm already fixed.

I had forgotten that until a friend reminded me.

One thing she said that has stuck out in my mind is that 'fixed doesn't mean perfect.'

I will NEVER ever be perfect while here on earth. Trying to achieve perfection is futile and to be upset because it can't be achieved is ludicrous.

Instead of expecting my brain to work perfectly and 'normally', I need to accept that He has created it with this 'flaw' for whatever reason.  Although there are negatives associated with this flaw, it doesn't mean I can't learn to live positively with it and even more, it doesn't mean I can't use it for His glory.

Mental diseases are greatly overlooked, ignored, misdiagnosed and even condemned in the Christian world. I've mentioned before that it is often seen as a sin issue and result of not walking with God the way we should. Christians who struggle with this live a constantly condemned life, full of confusion and hurt.

If I let God do whatever He wills through this and realize I CAN be free of the negative behavior and life, then maybe, just maybe, He can use me to help someone else who is struggling.

Even the great Paul in the Bible was given a thorn in his side that God chose not to remove, despite Paul's begging. When Paul accepted that (whatever it was), he expresses the freedom he found and although we don't know what it was, I'm sure it was then used for God's glory.

I am already free.

Galatians 5:1~"For freedom Christ has set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery."

I am already rescued.

Colossians  1:13~"God has rescued us out of the power of darkness..."


I need to stop fighting. I need to accept my freedom. I need to trust Him more.

Psalm 91:14-16~"Because you love me, I will rescue you. I will protect you because you know My name. When you call to me, I will answer you. I will be with you when you are in trouble. I will save you and honor you. I will satisfy you with a long life. I will show you how I will save you."

Another Fight

Friday was another mentally rough day for me.

The day itself was routine. No obvious reason for me not to have it together.

However, I knew God was trying to get my attention.

And I was fighting. Like my normal stubborn self I was refusing to give in and listen to Him.

It makes no sense. I know He is the only one that can help me through this time. He is the One who created me, who created my brain this way, and although I don't understand why, I need to accept that He has a purpose for the mental struggles I face.

So why wouldn't I just stop fighting and listen?

Friday was a busy day and in the evening I had a table at an open house hosted by several ladies in my church. I had a surprisingly good time (I'm quite awkward in social situations), but my hard heart was weighing me down.

I received a text during the open house that the little baby girl I watch, who was currently in the hospital, wasn't doing well. I left the open house early in order to make it to the hospital before visiting hours were over. I made it with 10 minutes to spare, but the guards had already logged out the workers and refused to let me in.

I left the hospital very angry, determined NOT to go home and was having a wonderful conversation with God about how I was sick of this whole mental issue and why couldn't I be normal and telling Him I was done and that I couldn't and wouldn't do it anymore.

Then the song that's been stuck in my head for a week came on. "Lord, I need you".

so. not. funny.

Yet so like my God Who loves me beyond what I can fathom.

I knew He was giving me an out to my current choice. It was a gentle but obvious way of bringing my thinking back to reality, to where it needed to be... on Him.

I knew my next decision was an important one. I wanted to do something I knew was wrong.

I whispered to Him, "I just can't go home."

When I said that, I completely expected the wrath of God to come down and eliminate me at that moment. Here He had shown me His love, showed me He was right there, showed me I didn't HAVE to sin, and I responded to Him with an 'Okay, BUT..."

It was the honesty of my heart coming out. At that moment, I could not go home.

Maybe that was for the best too.  With the way I was acting, I certainly didn't need to be around my sweet kiddos during loud, chaotic bedtime. It wouldn't have been a good thing. I've become a short tempered yeller this past year, and I HATE it.

Instead of feeling condemned for my out loud confession, I felt as if God was telling me it was okay. It was okay to not want to go home at that moment. But I DID need to do something that wasn't going to cause me to sin.

There really is only one friend I would call during a time like that and I knew she was unavailable at that time. My friendships are few and close friendships are fewer. That's another post for another time.

So I took a leap and reached out to one of those few close friends. Our friendship was made a little stronger the weekend before at our church retreat and I knew she wouldn't preach at me.

It meant I also had to make a phone call, which is NOT an easy thing for me, even to a friend. She answered and I tripped over my words trying to explain without giving details and sounding quite dumb I'm sure. She invited me over because she was unable to leave and I went, simply because I knew this was my way out of my current thought process.

There was no judging, no questions really, and we had coffee and good conversation. A few hours later, when my heart was settled and I was too tired to think, I left.

He had given me an out. He had given me this friend. He had protected me.  Despite my whiny, bratty, ungrateful self, He showed His love to me again by preventing me from sinning far more than I already had.

I've been quiet in my heart and mind since Friday.  I've been more open to listening to Him and my fight level has dropped. I need to spend time with Him, paper, and pencil and start working through what is keeping me from currently living for Him.

Caged Bird

Caged Bird by Maya Angelou

The free bird leaps

and floats downstream

till the current ends

and dips his wings

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with fearful trill

of the things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill 

for the caged bird

sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn

and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

Diverged

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;	5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,	10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.	15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I first memorized The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost as a freshman in high school. We memorized many poems in Lit class that year, and I loved most of them.  This one has always stuck with me, and whenever a time in my life comes up where big decisions need to be made, the last three lines of the last stanza ALWAYS come to mind.

Whatever decision I make right now will make all the difference in my life.

Interestingly enough, there are only a few of those 'big decisions' that I've ever looked back on and taken time to see the difference.  Reflection never seems to work out well for me, so I choose to not do it. But if I took the time to see what came of my decisions and what possibly could have came from the second choice, I know I could see God's hand leading and guiding.

Once again this poem was in my mind over and over throughout the day yesterday.  I feel like I am at another crossroads.  Or as I'm sure Robert Frost meant, I'm at a fork in the road. One path is well worn by those before me and will most likely be the easier path while the other is covered in a layer of brush and growth and causes the future to be unknown. I look at them both and wonder why it's a difficult decision.  

I especially wonder why it's a difficult decision when I feel as if I've been on the overgrown path for so long. It's not easy in any way to be different in this world. I am a different person than most, I am a Christian in a lost world, I have stayed married to the same man for almost 14 years, we have many children and would like more, I stay at home with our children, and to put the weird cherry on top, I even homeschool. In today's society, I'm on a path that is way far out in space. I've been on the difficult path according to society and the push continues to get me onto the easy path with the rest of the world.

I really could go into an in depth literary analysis of the poem compared to my personal experience and view, but that's not really my point here.  My point is I have a decision to make.

I've been plagued with a lot of negative feelings the past few months towards my life as a whole. I had only shared part of these feelings with my hubby and part with a friend until this past weekend when I shared with a few other close friends while at our ladies' church retreat. These feeling are shameful and hurtful, yet weigh on my heart so much, when in turn makes me feel guilty and makes me want to keep them hidden.

This morning, the poem and conflicting feelings were on my heart first thing. I didn't want to go down the futuristic paths of 'what if', knowing pretty much the way one of them would go. I didn't want to think about it anymore. I didn't want to make a decision, but instead ignore it all like usual (because that always works out, right?). I wanted to close my eyes and bury my head and just forget... just not be at this place in my life anymore.

At God's perfect timing, I received a very unexpected text from an unexpected person saying they were praying for me today. Completely out of the blue from someone who doesn't know my current struggles.

Another perfect example of God's perfect orchestration in my life.

It calmed my heart and mind enough to think more rationally and I began going over things slower and with a more realistic view.

I then saw the poem differently.  

It seems as if there is an 'easy' path and a 'difficult' path; one choice or the other choice. I've already said I feel like I've been on the difficult path my whole life and I would love to jump over to that easier path even for a little bit.

Then a thought struck me: what if I've actually already been on the easy path lately? Despite the many challenges I've been facing, this could still be the easy path. Just because the path is worn and well traveled doesn't make it problem free. There are still wolves and bears, rivers to cross, mountains to climb, and many more people with differing thoughts to encounter.  Easy doesn't mean problem free.

What if I've been on that easy path, when in fact I should be on the difficult one? What if God had presented me with the fork in the road a few months back, and I took the wrong path for whatever reason. Most likely I chose the path out of my own will and desires instead of consulting Him. Perhaps pride made it seem as if I was choosing the 'difficult' path, but in reality I had chosen the easier because I made my problems bigger than they really were.

What if because of this decision, I had caused my own discontentment? All the struggle and fighting and negative feelings I've had were all caused because I chose not to follow the path He chose for me. It may have looked more difficult at that decision making moment, but my choices have caused such heartache that in turn the easier path has become the more difficult one.

Like Robert Frost says, the chances of getting back to those exact crossroads is nearly impossible. I can't go back to that point where I had those two exact roads to choose. 

But now I have two new roads and one big decision.

The choice shouldn't be as difficult as I'm making it...

Just Keep Walking

Last night I had the privilege to be home with only my youngest. My sweet hubby took the older 3 to my son's cub scout meeting in order to give me a little down time (although I'd probably get more down time with the oldest 3 together than #4 alone!). ;)

I SAT on the couch, with NO GUILT. The dishes were caught up, I only had 2 loads of laundry to fold and put away, and the 3 main rooms of the house actually looked good. 

As I sat there, I was restless and so was my toddler. I had no desire to turn on the TV, no desire to sit at the computer, and miraculously, no desire to even play on my phone. BUT WHY?? I actually had the guilt free opportunity to do it, yet didn't want to.

A thought came to me to take my little bit for a walk in the stroller.  I usually keep the stroller in the van, but just so happened to have it in the living room in order to fit something in the van to deliver to someone. 

This began a conversation and battle in my mind, that has made me chuckle several times since then.

The conversation went something like this (all in my head):

        "I really should take her for a walk. I need the exercise and she needs a different view."

        "But I'd have to change my clothes. I would have to find her a hat. I'd have to put the dog away. That's too much to do."

        "It would be good for me though. It would be good for her. I don't have to go far."

        "But what if I run into someone I know? I'm not wanting to feel socially awkward right now."

        "Oh, just go!"

        "Ugh. Okay, but only if I can walk to the corner first and get a bottle of water."

        "Fine. Whatever motivates you to get out of the house, then just do it!"

This went on for about 5-10 minutes, arguing back and forth with myself. I even called myself a liar at one point then snorted at myself for thinking that.

>>and NO, I don't feel crazy for having this conversation. Everyone talks to themselves, even if they don't ever admit it. ;) <<

I DID end up taking her for a walk. Once I was out of the house, I was fine. We walked to the corner gas station, then walked for 45 minutes around the neighborhood. It was the longest walk I'd had in over a year.

That's sad.

Honestly, it was only the 4th or 5th time I'd taken her for a walk ever in her 14 months.  Thankfully my hubby takes the kids for a walk 1-2 times a week without me, or she would never know what a stroller is. 

It's not because I'm lazy. In fact, I LOVE walking. We used to hike and walk for hours at many different parks. My stroller used to know the sidewalks of my neighborhood by heart because we were out there every single day.

It's because I'm paralyzed. Mentally paralyzed with fear of the outside world. It makes no sense to me. Yes, I'm and introvert and shy and awkward, but until this past year and half, I've never experienced paralyzing fear and anxiousness about leaving the house. So much so that I rarely leave the house, even to go on a short walk around my neighborhood. 

This past year I've spent more time in my house than I ever have. I remember weeks at a time in which I didn't even step foot outside my door. 

I don't understand it. 

I'm thankful for the 'fight' I had with myself and that I did convince myself to go last night. I had a great time. It was my perfect weather (super cool), baby loved it, and I felt so much better mentally and physically when I got home.  Maybe this fight is the start of breaking free from whatever has me chained in my home.

Oh, and yes, I did run into someone I know. Our mail lady, who is actually a good friend of mine, was at the gas station chatting since she just finished her route. And you know what? I didn't have a heart attack or mental breakdown, instead I enjoyed talking to her. Imagine that. :)