Heaven Came Down

I am sharing with you excepts from the book "Suffering and the Heart of God: How trauma destroys and God restores" by Diane Langberg (page 7 my highlighted sections), because this is Christmas.  This is God.  This is our call as His Church. 

What does heaven do? Heaven leaves heaven...

Heaven comes down.

The church goes into the dungeon so that the dungeon becomes the church. God came down so as to lift up.

God became like us so that we might become like Him.  He came to this dung-filled dungeon we call earth and sat with us, touched us, loved us, and called us to Him.

He also enters into the dungeons of our hearts and 

transforms them.

God is power becoming little, coming down to embrace what is alien.  There is no them; there is only us.

This is what Christmas is all about.  This is why He came.  This is why I share the following every year since I first wrote it, because I want everyone to know that He came for them.  He came for me.  He came for you.  No matter where we are, how dark, or how dirty, Christ came for us ALL!   

When You Feel Too Dirty For The Nativity To Be For You

*originally posted 12/21/13*

*Warning, there is some swearing in this post. *

Most of us have heard it, the nativity story, some of us dozens of times if not more.

The Christ child born of Mary in a stable and laid in a manger while shepherds quake and angels sing.

Mary and Joseph chosen of God to bear and raise the King of Kings.

And it was asked for me to tell which of these people in the story spoke most to me. And the truth is they didn't speak, not even a whisper. They felt too far, too distant from me and my filth. They felt too squeaky clean.

I questioned my Christianity.

How could they not even whisper?

Without this birth, this baby, there would be no Savior.

A baby born to bear my sins.

I have heard it said by others that they have done and been and seen too much for God to ever forgive them.

This Christmas story leads to the Cross.

Where sinless Jesus took on our sins, bore our burdens, so we could be free/redeemed.

The Cross to the Resurrection.

I wrote once about the thorns of sin that I knowingly and willingly walked into:

"I look at my blood stained skin, the thorns dipped in red.  Suddenly they are not just my thorns, they are Christ's.  I have crowned Him in these thorns that I willingly walked into.  He suffered, bled His own blood, skin pierced by the thorns that weren't His own.  His glory forsaken, to be crowned in my sin." 

I realized tonight that I struggle so much with relating to the people in the Christmas story, because I have felt more like the shit filled stable.  Smelly, disgusting.  Guilt ridden knowing that I will pierce that baby with these thorns. 

So, I wonder if those people who think they are too shit filled for Jesus feel a lot like that; guilty for putting their thorns and crap on a baby.  Is it the manger story that makes the Cross of Christ so hard for our minds to bear? 

God reminded me tonight of something I think is often over looked.  At least I know that I have over looked it and that is this:

Before Jesus came to earth as a tender, sweet baby, He sat on the throne in Heaven where all of time was laid out before Him. 

He saw and knew exactly what thorns/sins I would crown Him with that day on Calvary, long before He lay in swaddling clothes.  And He still came to earth.  And He chose to come to earth in a stable.

I don't think that was an over sight on His part.

He was born in a shit filled stable and laid in a manger, so that people who feel like I did can rest assured that He can be born in them too.

So I don't relate to a person in this story, I relate to the place.

Come be born in me again this Christmas, Lord Jesus.

Strength and dignity

Proverbs 31:25-26

Strength and dignity

are her clothing,

and she laughs at the

time to come.

She opens her mouth

with wisdom,

and the teaching of kindness

is on her tongue.

Momma had taught her well and there was no man, woman, or child who was gonna take from her what God had put into her.  She looked out the window of her home and saw the life that lay outside of it for what it was, a battlefield.  So many hurting.  So many dying. Everybody wanting. Wanting someone to see them, to hear them, to join them in whatever war it was they were fighting in.  All of them feeling justified.  All of them feeling right or wronged whichever the case may be.  

She wasn't interested in their wars.  

She was a warrior, that much was true, but what her eyes could see wasn't where her battle lay and she knew that.  Her armor wasn't worn against her skin but within her heart.  Her weapons were not made to harm, but to heal; to expose lies with truth and love.  (Lots of people do one but not the other.  Love without truth is enabling.  Truth without love is condemning.) To give comfort to the comfortless. To give dignity and grace to the disgraced.  To give strength to the weak.  To give back kindness in the face of hate. 

Yes, her Momma had taught her well. 

She had passed down the ways of the only kind of warrior who can bring peace wherever she goes, because she taught her who she was fighting for and against.  Her enemy wasn't the people who lay waste against each other in the streets, that would be too simple, too easy to be able to draw that line between"us" and "them".  Those lines are what lets the real enemy attack, because people stop looking for him and fighting against him.  They get too caught up in the chalk they hold onto while drawing line after line.  Then they forget who they are really fighting against and begin to fight over the line drawn out of chalk dust.  

She was given too much responsibility and authority just to spend it fighting over dust.

There at that window she sank to her knees, because she knew that is where the start of every victory begins.

It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure.

2 Samuel 22:33

dig·ni·ty
noun
the state or quality of being worthy of honor or respect.



A final word:
 Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.
Put on all of God’s armor so that you will be able
to stand firm against all strategies of the devil.
For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies,
but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world,
against mighty powers in this dark world,
and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.

Therefore,
put on every piece of God’s armor
so you will be able to resist the enemy in the time of evil.
Then after the battle you will still be standing firm.
Stand your ground,
putting on the belt of truth and the body armor of God’s righteousness.
For shoes, put on the peace that comes from the Good News
so that you will be fully prepared.
In addition to all of these,
hold up the shield of faith to stop the fiery arrows of the devil.
Put on salvation as your helmet,
and take the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

Pray in the Spirit at all times and on every occasion.

Ephesians 6:10-18

What a Day of Rejoicing That Will Be

Room full of women, all hearts and kindness, praising and worshiping God and I felt it.  

I felt what Heaven is going to feel like.  It is going to feel like love, love incarnate sitting next to me, just loving me and I could hardly stay standing for the realization of it.  Close my eyes, breathe in deep, let the tears escape past the eyelids.  I was standing in love and on Holy ground and it was overwhelming and amazing.

As worship was over and we sat down I felt surrounded and filled by the hope and promise of who God made me to be.  It was like God was saying, "This is who I made you to be, do you feel it, little one?  Go and be all I made you to be."  

In a room full of love and acceptance being who God made you to be feels possible.  It is like a big Ole "OOHRAH" of Jesus's love and grace and you just feel empowered.

Before worship started I read a verse that had been placed on our table.  It said, "GOD holds me head and shoulders above ALL who try to pull me down.  I'm headed for HIS place to offer anthems of praise that will raise the roof!"  Psalm 27:6 MSG 

Before we started singing I had written that verse down and started doodling an image of a father lifting up his daughter into the air, her arms stretched out onto the paper table liners. 

After we sat back down I was a woman on a mission.  I colored in the Dad and daughter, then I just kept adding more and more to it.  I would think I was done, but then a voice said, "Keep going." So I did.  Then when I thought I was done, He said, "Add more."  So I wrote words into the sand.  "These words are for somebody, baby, so listen well."

Okay, now I am finished with it.  "Nope. See that sun, it needs a verse.  Look up on google for a verse about light. and see the water, you need one there too, might as well get both sides.  And see that sky, do one there. This is going to be good."  

Okay, now I am done. This feels good.

"Hey, baby, why don't you put a verse on the girl about being God's child and one on the Dad about how I am the Father."  

Okay, okay, I can do that. Now I am done, right?

"You are so cute! Add a little baby turtle climbing into the water in that corner, just so it will all tie into the message I had Karmen give this weekend......Alright! Now it is done.  Thanks, baby girl."

And then I walked away from it and just let it be after the lesson.

A little later a woman came up to me and asked if she could have that drawing.  She told me those were all the verses that she has been given over the last few weeks to help her through a rough patch. God works in such amazing and mysterious ways.  He empowered me and then used me to reach someone else.  It was not about my talent, it was just a crayon drawing after all, but it was about His speaking into our hearts and us listening.  He used a 40 year old stay at home Mom to reach a woman I had never met and He did it through crayons and a Google search.  (God uses Google, let that one soak in for a minute!)

It is miraculous what God can do in the hearts of us and others when we come together in love with open arms for each other and for Him.  That is church.  When we just lavish each other in acceptance and grace and welcome, God can work through that and it is a small glimpse of what Heaven will be like.  

Oh what a day of rejoicing that will be.

Ladies of Christian Fellowship Church in Columbus, Ohio, you are doing it right! Thank you.

1. Sing the wondrous love of Jesus; 
sing his mercy and his grace. 
In the mansions bright and blessed 
he'll prepare for us a place. 

Refrain: 
When we all get to heaven, 
what a day of rejoicing that will be! 
When we all see Jesus, 
we'll sing and shout the victory! 

2. While we walk the pilgrim pathway, 
clouds will overspread the sky; 
but when traveling days are over, 
not a shadow, not a sigh. 
(Refrain) 

3. Let us then be true and faithful, 
trusting, serving every day; 
just one glimpse of him in glory 
will the toils of life repay. 
(Refrain) 

4. Onward to the prize before us! 
Soon his beauty we'll behold; 
soon the pearly gates will open; 
we shall tread the streets of gold. 
(Refrain) 

God's unfailing love

table top doodle

Your unfailing love, O LORD, is as vast as the heavens; YOUR faithfulness reaches beyond the clouds.

Psalm 36:5

I am the Light of the world; he that follows me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.

John 8:12

See what kind of love the FATHER has given to us that we should be called the children of God.

1 John 3:1

When you go through DEEP waters, I will be with you.  When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will NOT drown.

Isaiah 43:2a

If I take to the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there YOUR hand shall lead me, and YOUR right hand shall hold me. 

Psalm 139:9-10

Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him!

Matthew 6:8

GOD holds me head and shoulders above ALL who try to pull me down.  I'm headed for HIS place to offer anthems of praise that will raise the roof!

Psalm 27:6

Strength, Faithful, Seen, Valued, Love, Unending, True, Hope, Lifted, Shine, Open, Adopted, Protected, Accepted, Grace, Promise, Faith, Joy, Raised, Treasured, Honored, Trust, Special

Five Minute Friday: Still

*I never time myself for five minute Fridays.  I let the word lead me for however long it leads.*

I find that even with all the strides I have taken this year and how far I have come from where I was I am STILL me.  I STILL have the same under lying issues that I have always had.  I STILL struggle.

Some days, months, seasons even I struggle more than others.  This is that season.  The season when I have to push down even harder on all the things that try and push their way out of me.  All the unknown memories that tease me from the shadows.  The little girl trying to be heard, seen, remembered from behind her prison.  The little girl that has me clinging tight to a teddy bear at night.  

I push down hard on what is pushing up and burrow deeper into blankets and solitude.  Shutting myself off even when surrounded by people.  Closing in.  Walling off.

And the anger is there.  Anger at me. Anger at them (whoever the them is who feels too close to my walls, or let me down, or who makes for a good distraction from all the pushing that is going on inside.)  I don't lash out at most of them I just let it all reverberate inside of me.  Most of the time because I know the anger is petty and more of a me issue than a them issue.  

I STILL do all of this, but I am getting better at knowing and recognizing it.  Seeing it for what it is and acknowledging it.  I am also better at not completely hiding away from the world.  I am planning, and hosting, and not shaming myself for the internal pushing. 

I am working on showing up even when I want to hide away.  I am giving myself grace for when I can't force myself to show up.  I am working on giving others grace for their lack of understanding, and grace for the fact that some things could solely be my perception and not the reality.

I am STILL a work in progress.  Still working, still progressing.  

Still hurting, still wounded, still healing, still learning.

"Be still and know that I am God"

Psalm 46:10

I will sit in stillness and also IN my "STILL-ness" and know that God is God.  He has me in all of my stillness, no matter which meaning of still that I mean.  And I will let Him reign over it all.

An Invitation to Trust

*This post was originally shared on 10/2/13.  I was reading it again tonight and it sparked a fictional story that I am writing out and hopefully will be able to finish and share with you tomorrow. I am sharing it again as a pre-cursor to that story.*

When I was 9 years old I had a tea party for Jesus and my stuffed animals.  I set the places, laid the crackers and cheese, poured the water, and we all sat around in a circle; except for Jesus, His spot was empty.  I didn't expect Him to join us really, I hoped, I asked, I kept eyeing the crackers and cheese to see if He was eating some while I was unaware.  The plate stayed full and the spot empty.



I was 9 years old and incredibly lonely.  My parents worked 14 hour days, we lived in a business district with no friends in which to play with, and I desperately wanted Jesus to come and sit with me.  I knew He was in my heart, but I wanted to see Him, to know I really mattered enough that He would show up for a child's tea party and eat crackers and cheese.

Last week in church Pastor told us how in Jewish tradition they would pray with their arms held out like someone waiting for them to be filled.  It is an invitation for God to fill your empty arms. 

An invitation.   

An invitation to trust that God will show up, that He will fill that which is empty.  It is a figurative letting go of that which you are holding in order to make room for the filling. 

It is an invitation of trust.  You are trusting God and not yourself. 

I have held onto much.  Too much.  I have filled myself up and have been afraid to let it go.  I have been afraid that my life would be that empty chair, that I would make space and He wouldn't come.  (I am not talking about salvation, that I was sure of.)  Figuratively, I would always be that lonely girl eating cheese and crackers on her own.

At church when the Pastor suggested that we hold our arms out as we prayed I realized just how hard of an action this was for me.  It seems so simple, "Just open your arms up, woman!" I told myself.  "Just do it, why is this so hard?".  I didn't know why it was hard, just that it was, but I did it anyways.  I opened my arms up and they were filled with a quieting peace.  I let go of that tiny bit of control and He filled.

That was on Wednesday.

On Friday, I went to talk to the Pastor about things I have been holding onto and that hold onto me.  The last time I talked to him he suggested that I read a book by Neil T. Anderson called "Victory Over Darkness".  I had read it and figured we would talk about that, but the conversation went another way.  Pastor brought up great points that made me think.  When I came home I had forgotten to say some things that I had wanted to say, so I emailed them to him.

A big theme of the book is that we are a new Creation in Christ.  I have never understood that statement.  I mean I understand it conceptually, but not experientially.  I have been a Christian since 3 and so this is what I wrote that afternoon: "... in the book he mentioned a lot about the before you knew Christ and the after you knew Christ...that whole new creation concept.....  well, I have ALWAYS known Christ, so not only is there not that feeling of difference, but everything that has happened to me or by me has always been done while in Christ, so it almost makes me angry when he brings that up so much in the book and I am not sure why anger is the emotion that comes up in it but it is."

This was his reply to that: "What I want you to discover is that though you have made mistakes since being in Christ, THAT is who you ARE.  When things happen when we are young, it shifts how we see ourselves moving us into deception about who we really are.  Even when one becomes a Christian young, if how they see themselves becomes contorted by the lies of the enemy, they will still act in ways that do not reflect who they really are.  It is like if a prince is kidnapped and is raised by paupers, he IS a prince but he lives like/acts like a pauper and does not access the riches due his true place in life.  THAT is what has happened to you.  More than anything I want you to get (I mean REALLY GET) who you are REGARDLESS of what you did or what was done to you.  How do you think you can do that?"

Honestly, I had no idea just how I was going to do that.  I gnawed on it in the back of my mind all afternoon.  Then that evening the prompt for that week's Five Minute Friday was truth.  I had no idea what was going to come out in it, I just sat and wrote.  As I wrote the answer to his question came.  I need to stop holding onto all the how's, the why's, and the lies and just walk in that truth that was staring me in the face.  The ones I had read about in the book, the ones I have heard about all my life but have never been able to feel, see, or believe for myself. 

I need to realize that the spot at my table might have been left empty, but the reality is that Christ has set a spot for me at His table with so much more than crackers, cheese, and water. I need to be the one to show up.  It is showing up at His table, not mine, that feeds a hungry heart and comforts a lonely little girl.

It is His truths I need to follow.  They are what will lead me to the table not the lies that left me  torn and bleeding in the brambles .  I need to turn and walk in who I am in Him.  I don't want fear to keep me sitting at my own little table staring at an empty chair just because I am afraid that His invitation somehow wasn't really meant for me.

A conversation with my Daddy

Dear God,

                 I am feeling very sad and empty this morning and I am not sure why that is.  I just wish I could break this sadness.  Maybe I am supposed to be sad today.  Really, God, I just want to climb up in Your lap and cry.  I am not even sure what it is I want to cry about.

                  I have been putting myself out there and being vulnerable and maybe that is what is causing the empty feeling.  Maybe that feeling is more of a vulnerability than an emptiness.

                  Lord, please tell me what it is You want me to hear.


"Oh, My daughter!"

*I lean my head into Your chest and pull my knees up to my own as I burrow into Your lap.  Your strong arms gather me into You.  You lean Your forehead down and rest it atop my head as You breathe in my child scent.*

"My beautiful, beloved daughter!"

You say not much louder than a whisper.

"This little girl inside of you who feels so empty, who longs for love, who aches for acceptance and safety; the one you don't know how to quiet or fulfill, this little girl who has you climbing into My lap; I am enough for her and for you.  

Feel my arms of protection wrapped tight around you.  Listen to my heart that beats for you.  Breathe in deep my sweet scent of peace, let it fill your lungs.  Oh little one, know Me, rest in Me, and let the knowledge of who I am fill all of these aching empty spaces.  May that raw open feeling of vulnerability be replaced with the security of knowing just how securely You are held in My hands."

*Long held tears empty themselves out, wetting His robe that lies beneath my head.  I clutch the fabric and press it to my face.*

                   Oh, God, this is where I should have been all along, all those times I was searching for comfort and fulfillment.  All those times I went out trying to quiet the emptiness in the wrong arms, in the places the world said fulfillment lays, help me to come back here when the past rises and the vulnerability comes.  The times I feel empty help me to remember this moment, this holding.  Help me to know that Your lap is always waiting.

*My bitter tears of the pasts hurts and harms empty out and soak into His garments and there bitterness turns to sweet.  Emptiness and vulnerability exchanged with fullness and safety.  I am known and I am loved. He kisses my head as I get up to face the rest of the day.  He is more than enough to fill.*

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, 

that we should be called children of God! 

And that is what we are! 

1 John 3:1 NIV

My Heart doesn't operate in the scientific: The operating table

This is the third installment of  this series.       My heart Part One     My heart Part Two

"You went in for an operation, but you got up off of the table before it was done."

That is what he had said to me, my pastor, at our meeting.  I wasn't sure I agreed.  If I had gone in for an operation it felt like I had chosen the wrong hospital. That weekend had very definitely left me torn wide open and had left me in need of some sutures at the very least.

I went home and I bled.  I didn't know where to find a doctor to close me up.  I sent a letter to my old counselor in Washington asking for some direction.  I also started looking online for help; reading articles and buying books.  I was desperately trying to find the right sutures to stop the bleeding.

I found this book and ordered it off of Amazon.  When it came I read 100 pages of it that first night.  I was holding in my hands what may as well have been titled "Understanding Karmen", because it was 400 pages of everything I had ever felt, thought, acted on, and didn't feel.  I was not some crazy, bad, mis-created person.  I was a violated person left damaged by the violation.  Everything I think, feel, and don't feel is common!

I always knew that to some extent, but to see it written down in black in white was freeing.  It was like finally having a diagnosis for my emotional ailment.

With the exception of the pre-pubescent abuse that I suffered at the hands of my friends father I never had clear memories of what had happened to me.  I always knew something had happened because of who I was, but without the memories to go along with it part of me felt as though I was making more out of it than needed to be made.

Sometimes, before a wound can be healed you have to open it up and get the infection out.

The weekend retreat had opened up that wound deep, and now that I look back I hadn't gone to the wrong hospital, that weekend was just the first step to prepare me for the surgery that I needed.  The infection had to be removed before the healing could take place.  And that infection continued to ooze out as I have written about in the last two posts.   Oozing validations that something most definitely had happened to me in my childhood that were justifying the diagnosis I held in my hands.

As comforting as that was I was still left bleeding and oozing. The infected memories were frightening and I was not in control of what seeped out of the wound or when.

In His complete mercy, God gave me a name, a diagnosis, for that black slimy blob I was holding in my hand; that cancerous slime called childhood sexual abuse.  But His mercy did not stop there.  He also gave me a diagnosis to hold in my other hand, papillary carcinoma of the thyroid.  It may not be the diagnosis to answer the three+ years of medical mysteries that I have gone through, but it was a validation that listening to my body is important.  (The story of how this diagnosis came about verges on the miraculous, but it will have to wait for another day).  I had decided that my body was just a big fat liar who liked to create pain and mayhem and this diagnosis let me know that at least sometimes my body was telling the truth.

He was answering my angry prayer from the few months before.  He was letting me hold the answers in my hands to show me that when He healed me it would not be from my own overwhelming defectiveness.  He was giving me reasons, tangible ones, and He was continuing to say, "Trust me."

(To be cont.)

My heart doesn't operate in the scientific: Bucking against the fence posts

*This is the second installation of this series.  My heart Part one.

I am going to travel backwards for a moment.  To share with you something I wrote but never posted.  This was written after I had gone in for my neck issues, but prior to getting any kind of diagnosis.

*****************************************

11/19/13

Our Pastors have been preaching a lot on healing.

A lot.

Our once a month Sunday night service was all about healing last night.

I went to church wanting to hide in a corner.  I was contemplating where would be the best "hiding" spot in the sanctuary where I would be the least visible.  I felt like a caged animal being poked with sticks.  Honestly, I didn't even really want to go in.  I thought about just sitting in my van for the whole service. ( I go on my own when we have Sunday night services).

I made myself go in though.  And I made myself sit in my normal spot;  middle section, second row back, second seat in from the right.  I was freezing, so I wrapped my grandpa sweater around me tight and kept my arms folded tight to my chest.  I probably looked pretty frangry (freezing and angry).

Before we started singing the pastor talked about how he really felt that Jesus was going to heal people and that if we needed a healing to be sure and ask for it.  He also said that wherever we were that we needed to meet with Jesus.  If that meant dancing, dance.  If it meant crying, cry.  If it meant laying face down on the floor in prayer, then lay down.

So I stood there being frangry.  I told Jesus, "I am here and I am really angry.  And Lord, no one had better come and try and heal me tonight, because I don't want it."

I realized that this is an odd thing to tell the Lord, especially for someone who has said she is on a healing road.  So I explained to the Lord and to myself, mostly to myself, because Jesus, He already knows what I mean and who I am.

"God, I don't want you to heal me before they find out what it is.  I want to be able to say 'SEE, SEE, that is what has been causing the hurts, that is what is causing the pain!  I am NOT making it up, it is real and it is THERE!'"  And I had an instantaneous image.  In my mind I was holding up a blackened slimy blob in one hand and the cause of the physical hurts in the other and I realized that for both my physical and emotional hurts and pains that I wanted to be able to pinpoint, name, and see that there was a cause, a reason for them.  A tangible thing to hold and to say, "See this thing, it is real, it is REAL!  This has been the cause and I am not defective.  I am really okay and this whole time this slimy black blob has been to blame for the emotional and the medical whatever it is for the *physical.*"  If healing comes before I can root that out then I will always feel defective.  I will always feel as though God merely healed me from my own overwhelming defectiveness.

************************************************************

Now go from here to Encounter weekend that first weekend of February.  When I came home I wrote my feelings from the weekend out in my journal.  This is what I had to say about part of the weekend.

************************************************************

I drew this and wrote out these scriptures
after writing out my letter.

Friday night I had felt like a caged animal.  The very first assignment was to write a love letter to Jesus of all things.  

Hello!  Can we just jump into my intimacy issues right off the bat?  Yeah, great.  I told him I wanted to be the wild horse bucking against the fence posts, wanting the security of the fence, but the freedom to still buck.  I told him that I did not want to be close to Him.  He understood the why's.  I didn't have to state them out.  I told him that I could never buck like the wild horse though, because I had already been broken and told that any wild left in me was bad.  It wasn't much of a love letter, but it was my heart at the moment.

************************************************************************

I didn't even really know where those feelings were coming from as I wrote them, they were just there.  I still don't fully understand that wild horse analogy that I was feeling.  I have an inkling that it has something to do with memories that had yet to come out, and those that still have yet to come.  

I finished up the events of the weekend by saying, "I feel war torn and battered.  I don't feel abandoned, but maybe a bit betrayed.  Morning came and joy wasn't waiting."

I have  spoken  of how I went and saw my pastor after this weekend happened.  I didn't speak about what he said to me during that meeting.  (This is the man whose ear is so close to God's lips that I can see the whispers of His voice reflected in his eyes.  As with anyone I don't just blindly follow, but because of how this man lives his life and who he is, because of who God is, I have learned to listen.)  This man told me at our meeting that I just needed to take time and give everything to God, sit down and have it out with Him.  He said that God had a healing for me.  He told me that he could see me with a smile so big and my heart so free and filled with so much joy that my kids and husband would not recognize me, because I would be different than who they had always known.  I would be/feel light.  He told me that I would be the catalyst to move my family into great things.  He also told me that it was no small wonder that I was here in this place (literal location) that God had purposed to put me here for this very reason. He warned that I should not take that lightly and that opportunities like this one don't last forever.  

I was incredibly discouraged when I left, because didn't he know that I did not know HOW to do those things?  I hoped for his vision of my future, but I saw no way that it was going to happen.  Joy? JOY?! Beaming, BEAMING, out of me?!?  Doesn't he know that I am  the girl who doesn't know joy?  He might as well have asked the lame to walk, the blind to see, or the captives to go free.  And now that I write that out, that is exactly what he was asking. Only I felt as though he were asking me to figure out how to go about doing that.  But it was never the lame, the blind, or the captives who saved themselves was it?

(to be cont.) 

*I have been told that this cancer is most likely not the cause of the previous physical ailments and that they are probably not related to one another.
**linking up with faith barista/white space even though the prompt is Easter and I don't speak to that directly this is the story in continuation of my personal Easter story of stones being rolled away.

My heart doesn't operate in the scientific

This is the first post of a four post series. Please read the rest of the story by clicking on the "cont." at the bottom of the page.

*Warning: This could be a trigger for those who have been abused.*

I wrote back in early February how Jesus whispered  words to my heart after a particularly difficult weekend.  Here are just a few of those words.

 I know you are frustrated and scared.

 I know this weekend brought up hurts you thought had finished hurting.

 I also know it brought up much fear, because it loosed up hazy 

realizations of memories you don't want to remember, 

things you don't want to know. 

You are so afraid of finding out what has been hiding behind that door 

with all its scratching noises, but I am bigger than that door, baby,

 and anything that lies behind it.

That door had been jarred open that weekend and scared is where I was.  I went on later to write how God was revealing more of what lay behind that door to me in dreams.  That door and all that lay behind it left me in a state of emotional turmoil.  I never knew when I would slip from present day into the emotions of the girl who was trapped in time behind that door with the memories.  I could be washing dishes as an adult in the now and turn and be child sobbing, scared, and hurting.  

It was during this time that I discovered I had thyroid cancer. 

I was never scared of the physical cancer. ( I have always been scared of the emotional "cancer" that lurks behind that damned door.)

The testing for the cancer, surprisingly to me, brought out more of what hid behind that door and that completely terrified me.

As I laid on the exam table during a biopsy of lymph nodes in my central neck my throat was being pressed on and suddenly I was in two places at once.  My body was surrounded by doctors but my mind was in a dark room, a man's hands around my throat, I could feel myself starting to lose consciousness in the world my mind inhabited.  I was panicking.  All I could do was desperately pray for Jesus to save me from my mind and the memory that had slipped out from behind that door.  

I wanted to sob, ask the doctor to stop and curl myself into a huddled ball, but I knew that I couldn't do that. I held myself together as my breath quickened and my lip quivered.  After enduring an hour of being both here and there it was over.  

I spent the weeks between that procedure and my surgery praying that God would use my time in surgery to minister to me.  I would be a captive audience with no distractions.  I prayed over and over that He would walk me through the memories during that time.  Scientifically, I am sure that sounds implausible, but

my heart doesn't operate in the scientific it operates in the supernatural.  

When people would ask me how I felt about the surgery and the cancer I would answer them honestly and say I was just ready to get on with it.  The cancer was no big deal compared to what lay behind that door and I was very worried about surgery opening that door even further.  I didn't tell them that part though.

I just prayed, and I prayed, and I prayed.  "God, please, just show me what I need to know while I am under.  I know I will be unconscious, but please just tell me what I need to know. Walk me through it, I don't care if it sounds dumb, just do it. Please!"  

Surgery day came.  I went into the operating room and thought, "Okay God, you're up." as they moved me from one bed to the other and I slipped into the anesthesia, or rather it slipped into me.  

(to be cont.)

Five Minute Friday: Hero

The theme of needing/wanting a hero has come up in my words before.  More than once even.  I have been on a search for a hero my whole life, but I have begun to realize that the elusive hero isn't going to come.

I am heading off to a women's retreat with my church this weekend.  To tell you the truth, a big part of me wishes that I weren't.  I have been fighting myself about going since they began talking about it.  It is not your  typical retreat, they call it Encounter.  We are going to encounter God.  There are actually quite a few rules attached with going.  Rules that make this rebellious heart want to break them all.  I haven't even left yet and I already feel fenced in, corralled. 


On Wednesday night we had a pre-retreat meeting to discuss what to bring, what not to bring, and what to expect.  My group leader talked about how if we are open to Him we will grow so close with God this weekend.  Can I tell you how much I wanted to run right then.  Intimacy with God, should be every Christian's dream right?  Nope, not me.  Not even with God. 

I mock myself a little about this, because hello! this is God we are talking about Karmen.  He already knows every intimate detail that there is to know about me, He is not the one who is going to be learning anything new.   Since I knew this, I know it is not God knowing me that I fear as much as it is knowing what it will unlock inside of me.

Our group leader spoke of how as we go through life we pick up rocks and garbage along the way that we shove in our packs as we go.  This weekend she said is designed to help us unpack a lot of that stuff. 

Part of me wants that more than you can imagine, but another part of me is very afraid of holding those rocks in my hand.  There is a well spring of anger attached to those rocks and I think if I pick them up that I am just as likely as not to start hurtling those rocks at God like a child throwing a temper tantrum and there is no telling who or what might get caught in the cross fire.

You are probably wondering what all of this has to do with "Hero".  I don't know, other than maybe I am still looking for one.

And the story grows

Somewhere along the way I must have left it behind.   It wasn't until someone mentioned  it in their writing  that I even noticed it was missing.  As I read their words I expected it to rise up and pull at the waters in my eyes and dig at my mind, but it wasn't there. 

I took a mental note of the year; there had been no clearly marked line, no parting of a sea where I walked through and it was left to wash away.  Never the less, it wasn't there.  Shame had left and I hadn't even noticed. 

I wrote last about how I don't have a word or a theme for this year.  I still don't, but as I was thinking over my last year I decided that if I were to put a word over it like an umbrella to cover all it contained then that word would have to be MOVING. 


Tonight during our Wednesday night service our Pastor started off by asking us to answer this question in groups of 4 -5 : Why did Jesus come to earth?

There are lots of answers to this question. 

Our group of 4 came up with these reasons: 1. To pay for our sins  2. To die on the cross 3.  To heal the sick, the hurting, and the lost 4. To show us God 5. To fulfill the prophesies.

I am sure that there are many more answers to that question.  The particular answer that the pastor preached on was that He came to heal the sick and the hurting.  His scripture reference was Luke 4: 18-19

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
    because he has anointed me
    to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives
    and recovering of sight to the blind,
    to set at liberty those who are oppressed,
¹⁹ to proclaim the year of the Lord's favour." ESV

His  message when condensed down to its most basic form was that we are all broken, lost, and hurting people who need Jesus, because you don't go through this world unscathed. 

Since Adam and Eve ate the fruit way back in the beginning we have all been hurting and in need of a healing and a covering from God. 

When he talked about the nakedness of Adam and Eve it reminded me of a blog I wrote way back in the beginning of my blogging.  (If interested you can click on the Adam and Eve link above to read it.)  Remembering it made me go back and take a look at it, re-read it, re-ponder where I was when I wrote it and where I am now. 

I wrote in there about God's covering and how Christ's sacrifice covered me where I couldn't.  When I wrote those words I was in the deepest depression I had ever been in.  A depression so deep I wasn't sure I would make it out alive.  (This is not an exaggeration.)  After that depression eased with the help of medication I went from pondering God's provision to being a very prodigally prodigal child.

When I came to my own realization that God's provision was better than the pig slop I was feasting in I felt like the most mangerish manger person to ever return home.  

I had essentially said to God, "Forget your fancy coverings you have given me I am going to go get me some forbidden fruit! You aren't cutting it." 

Talk about feeling naked when I came walking back down that road to Him. 

I felt completely EXPOSED and fruit stained. 

(And here is a little something extra, a little something that God just showed me, cuz He is really cool like that: Even when I was feasting on pig slop and forbidden fruit God still had me covered..... because God will never leave me nor forsake me..... He loves me and covers me despite my anger and confusion, because He knows where and who I am.  This is not to advocate sin.  This is not to say once saved always saved, this is just to say that God is awesome and graceful and He knows His children and when they are lost and hurting He doesn't give up on them.)

I hid from humanity for a long while after that.  I felt so stained and dirty and unacceptable that even though I had God's covering I couldn't forgive myself and didn't see how anyone else would be able to accept me as well. 

Before moving to Groton I wrote about how  we were moving, but God was too  .  Little did I know then how much He was and how He was orchestrating this move to Groton to bring healing back into my life and draw me back into humanity and out of my shame. 

There is so much to this story that keeps unfolding and growing and deepening, but this is where it will end for now. 

They are small, but they are mighty.

Sometimes the steps we take are so small that we don’t even realize we have taken them.

I wrote last about how I was still just standing still, but what I didn’t realize when I wrote that is that although I was indeed standing still at that moment, I was standing in a different place.  I had been moving all along and hadn’t even realized it.  When I wrote of the thorns I was thick inside of them.  I am no longer there.  Was I standing still in that sanctuary?  Yes, I was; but here is the thing I missed, are you ready for it?  I was out of the thorns….I was out of them and IN A SANCTUARY.  I was so focused on the standing that I forgot to look at my surroundings. 

When I was in the thorns I was so stuck because I felt so empty.  I felt like nothing .  I felt like I knew better and I did what was wrong anyways.  I knew God was waiting for me and loving me, but I was too ashamed to accept it.  For a long time, really until just this week, I felt as though my actions made everything that I had said about God and His love hollow and less believable to others.  This week I have been re-reading back through all of those early blogs.  What I am finding is that those early words have not been negated by my actions, but that God is using them, using my own words to remind me of the deep truths of His love.  And here is the really wooooo-eee-oooooohhhhh realization: the whole time I was struggling, the whole time I was writing down those words God knew what was coming.  He already knew the choices I was going to make. He already knew the words I would need to hear again and again to get me out of those thorns and He had me write them.  There is a kind of awe-inspiring peace that comes when you can see His hand throughout it all. 

I wrote very early on in this blog about a Healing Road .  In that particular blog I wrote how some roads are lined with brambles.  At that point in my life I was still on the road and the brambles I got tangled in weren’t even in my line of sight.  When I saw those words as I reread this week it just struck me.  It struck me hard that God knew what was coming even if I didn’t. 

So much is going on in my heart and my mind here.  Everywhere I turn now I see little steps; little heart steps, and life steps, and healing steps.  They are small, but they are mighty. 

If you are struggling to see past your hurts, your choices, your circumstances and you feel like you are stuck standing still let me tell you that I understand.  I see you.  I hear you.  But more importantly God sees you, hears you, understands you and even if they are small, and even if there is months between the stepping trust me when I say that one day you will look around and you too will find that your surroundings have changed.  Just keep breathing my friends and seeking God.  And it is okay if sometimes seeking Him comes in pain soaked sobs.  And it is okay if it comes in the broken sighs where all you can do is just keep taking one breath after another.  The one thing I can tell you, the one thing that I KNOW is that God loves you, friend, and He will stand on that road with you no matter how small the steps you take and no matter how long it takes you to start moving.  Just keep checking your surroundings.

linking up with Five minute Friday for "small" although this took me longer than five minutes to write.
and also linking up with Emily and her imperfect prose community.

 

and also with

Five Minute Fridays (Rest)

Rest:

I want to hear the rest of the story Lord.
I want to hear it told to me like a Bible story in childrens' church.
I want to see those water color pictures of my life painted on white background.
I want the felt cut-outs on the brown background telling out the story of where I have been and where I am going.
I want it laid out in chronological order:
"In the beginning God created Karmen, and she was good in His sight."
I want to see that my wandering has purpose, Your purpose.
I want to see that promised land that You have said is waiting for me.
I want to know that I am a girl after Your own heart like David's heart was.
I want to be told where my lion's dens, fiery furnaces, and crosses are and be told how I lived through them by your devine G.R.A.C.E.
I want to see it written out in print, so that I might read it over and over again.
I want it to be read to me whispered quiet at night as I lay in bed:
"And God's hand was upon Karmen"
I want my story to be Your story. 
I want to know that I become that terabinth tree that you have emblazened in my heart.
I want to know that these seeds grow in me and that I don't stay just a sapling.
I want my story to end with:
"And Karmen followed Him all of her days."
I want to be able to rest in the hearing of the rest of my story.

Image from google image search for terabinth tree.


rest plural of rest

Verb Cease work or movement in order to relax, refresh oneself, or recover strength. Remain or be left in a specified condition: "rest assured".

Noun An instance or period of relaxing or ceasing to engage in strenuous or stressful activity. The remaining part of something.

Synonyms verb. repose - relax - lean - lie noun. repose - remainder - pause - remnant - relaxation

We are Moving, but God is too

3/7/2013

We are moving. 

It is going to happen.

Whether I am ready for it or not, (which I am not ready for by the way).

All things point to the very real reality that it is going to happen. 

• The fact that we sold our house that we lived in for the last ten years back in November of 2012.  The house that has been my home the longest of any other place claiming that title.  The house that 4 out of 7 of my babies were made in and brought home to.  The house that I thought would be mine forever.  
• The fact that 11 of us have been living in my parents 1200 square foot house since the middle of last August to prepare for the selling of our house and this upcoming move.
• The fact that my husband and therapist keep telling me that this is happening.
• The fact that we have notified the school that we are moving.
• The fact that the Navy has given my husband orders stating the same fact and I have been given the power of attorney for the movers to come and haul away all our belongings.

It isn't so much that I have been living in denial that this all is happenening it is just that it seemed so far off in the distance that I was able to kind of ignore it for a bit.  But now we are down to just 58 days.  It can't be ignored anymore.  Things I have put off have to be done.  Things like:

•  getting shot records and making sure we have all the shots that their new school will require, making sure I find out what shots those are. 
•  Getting in those last minute doctor appointments. 
• Meeting with the movers at our storage unit and unpacking all the boxes that I packed up so that they can re-pack them and have them be insured.
• Making sure I keep out the things we will need on our trip and once we get to our new location 3000 miles away from the place we all call "home".
• Doing this all on my own because my husband will be out to sea until 3 days before we move.

But these things aren't the things that give me the most stress and grief.  The things I worry most about are the things unseen but felt.  The feeling that I am disappointing and stressing out those that I love by moving our family as far away as we can go and still be in the same country.  It is the sadness that I see on our beloved neighbor boy's face as he tells me that my son is his only friend and he will have no one else to play with once we move.  It is my concern for this sweet sweet boy that he will be lost in our absence because I know how much he wants to be loved and accepted and how he will bow to the pressures of those who make unwise choices in order to feel that he is a part of the group.  I want to swoop him up and love him and take him with us to this new beginning.  It is knowing that the girl I call my "daytime daughter" and who I love as my own will be thousands of miles away from me and our home and family has been her second home and family for the last four years and as long as she can remember.  I worry for this girl whose own mother has in all practicality abandoned her for her own pursuit of happiness.  I worry that people we love will be lost before we can come back to this place of home again.  I grieve the loss of what Christmas will be like because it will happen for the first time in my 37 years of life without my sister being with me and I worry how she will live without me as well.

Even with all these worries I still try and find my trust that God knows what He is doing in spite of my mistrust, because there are signs that He is in charge along with the doubts and the fears.

• The fact that our house did sell, in a horrible market, at a price where we still came out ahead of the game.  I feel that in itself is a miracle.
• The fact that He is taking us back to the place where our marriage got off course and we have a chance to right those wrongs that we have been living in for the past fourteen years in the same place it went awry.  A place where we are forced to be interdependent upon each other.
• The fact He is bringing me back to the place where He promised me healing while sitting a hard church pew 14 years ago.  A place I thought I would never go back to and wondered why He would promise such a thing and then not stay true to it.

In the nights where I wake up and all the fears and doubts press down on me and pull at me I have to choose to trust, because really I have no other option.  I can allow myself to be paralized by the insecurities or I can pray this simple prayer:  "I trust you God, help me with my mistrust."  Because that has become my mantra in the last two weeks as the days dwindle down and I can no longer ignore the inevitable.  Sometimes when darkness falls and I wake in the middle of the night it is all I can do to slip those words through my parched lips as the chains of fear and doubt wrap round me tight, but He hears and He lovingly unwinds the chains as I can feel my spirit calm and I am able to drift back to sleep. 

We are moving, but I think that God is too.
It is going to happen.
And I have to trust even in the midst of my mistrust.

Rainy Day Perspective

Rainy Day Perspective

2/22/13
9:00 am

Today is a rain day.  I totally needed a rain day today.  I have written before about how much the rain cleanses me.  I tried to take a picture of the rain from my view in the living room this morning.  My plans were to write about how these kinds of days make me want to write and how I wished I had a bay window to sit in, with comfy, colorful pillows all around.  But instead something else happened when I took that picture.

It has been a long time since I have felt that God has spoken to me.  Mostly because to be completely honest I have been angry and didn't try listening for Him much.  I was both afraid to hear what He might want to tell me about my attitude and actions and I was annoyed with Him.  I know the Bible says that all things work together for good for those who love Him, but I could see nothing good coming from me.  It can get pretty dark in this here brain of mine sometimes and well I was tired of it, because O M G when will it just end!?.  I am kinda ready to be "normal" now God, okay? 

So, back to the rain, and the picture.  Like I said, I took a picture of the rain as it was coming down really hard, but in the picture you can't see it.  You can see the effects of it: the wet ground, the puddles it created, the watery distorted reflections of the world around it.   In that moment when I looked at that photo God spoke to me, subtly without words.  It was just a flash of understanding. 

You see I realized that in so many of us, maybe even all of us, is that we are so much like that picture.  Others and sometimes even ourselves see us through the smeared glass filter.  It is easy to see the effects of the rain in our life: the mud, the puddles, the distorted water views; but the rain itself is hidden.  It just looks messy.  Instead of focussing on the cause of the mud in our lives, we just focus on the mud itself.  And we begin to see those distorted reflections as reality. 

My challenge and part of my healing is learning how to see the rain in myself and in others and not just focus on what it leaves behind. I need to stop looking at the watery distorted reflections, and look at what is really there, because the reality has so much more depth than the reflection.

*the smeary  child-sized fingerprints on the window, well I could say that it portrays how the fingerprints of others can affect our perspective or something equally deep, but the reality is that I just need to wash my windows.  Or maybe needing to wash the fingerprints of others of my windows is really the deeper analogy. You can be the judge.  ;)

I Love You, Too

Karson, my 2 year old, often comes up to me and says "I love you too, Mom."  His sweet little words of love to me express that he already knows that I love him.  There is no questioning in his statement.  My love for him is known and he is expressing his love back to me. 

Often when he says this to me I can't help but think of God and His love.  It is amazing to me how much my children can teach me about my relationship with God.  I should be saying "I love you too God".  Do I have that innocent, child-like faith that knows of a Heavenly Father that already loves me without having to question it?  Sometimes I do, but sometimes this world gets in the way of that.  I question His love for me.  I wonder if His love changes based on my actions and attitudes. 

If I look at how I love my son,  (un-conditionally, deep and unwavering since the moment I knew of his existence, without having to have him do a single thing but exist to obtain that love) how much more can and does God love me for absolutely no reason more than the mere fact that I exist?! 

If distance comes between God and I it is not due to a lack of love on God's part.  I think again of the relationship between parent and child.  When a child is 2 they are headstrong, defiant, and wanting to separate themselves from their parent.  The vision in my head is of a child running as fast as they can to some dangerous but alluring distraction.  I am that 2 year old.  I am running towards that dangerous new distraction, wanting freedom from the watchful eyes of my "parent".  Like a parent, God doesn't turn His back and run the opposite way.  His love doesn't lesson or move away from me.  I am the one causing the distance.  Depending on the situation, God is either standing firm in His same position, watching carefully waiting for me to run back to Him asking Him to kiss away the "boo-boos" or He is running towards me.  His love is running towards me trying desperately to spare me from whatever mortal danger I am chasing this time. 

So often in the church we hear that sin separates us from God.  It is true it does, but like in my illustration above, I don't think it is God who is walking away from us when we sin, it is us defiant, head-strong, easily distracted 2 year olds running away from Him that causes separation.  Un-like a 2 year old though, we forget what my own son knows about our relationship and that is that we can always walk back to God look up at Him and say, "I love you, too!"  We/I don't have to question if this time He will kiss the "boo-boos" my dis-obedience caused.  I don't have to question if His love for me has grown cold or if He has grown tired in the wait for me to turn around and run back to Him.  I need to have that innocent child-like faith that no matter what, no matter how far I run, no matter how long it takes, or how big the "boo boo's"  I can always come back to God and say, "I love you, too", because I should know that His love never left, changed, wavered, or moved away from me.

I can't help but think of the story of the prodigal son.  I always thought of it as a story for the non believer, but now that I think upon it, I am almost convinced that it is more so for the believers.  The child was already a son, he took his inheritance and he went far away from his father and his home.  He wasted his inheritance and lived in a way in which he should not have.  The whole time he was gone his father never moved, he stayed, waiting for the son to return.  When the son finally did return the father RAN to him, he threw a huge party, he welcomed him home.  Notice the father didn't stand there with his arms crossed, asking questions, saying "I told you so", or refuse to see him.  No, I will say it again, HE RAN  to his lost child.  WOW!  Isn't that awesome cool?!  The father never gave up hope of seeing his son return, he never grew tired of waiting, his love never dimmed. 

I don't know where any of you are in your lives, but wherever you are I hope you know that you can turn to God and in all confidence say to Him, "I love you, too!", because I hope you know that His love for you is already established, simply because you exist!

*Thanks God for that reminder, shown to me in such a small and powerful way through my own son. I love you, too God.  I love you, too.*