At 16 years old, you have a carefree, simple life and a life full of possibilities. I was so happy; I loved always hanging out with my friends, playing basketball, running track, and I’ll admit, like most girls at that age, I was a little boy crazy. I loved food, any kind of food and especially bread. Now food consists of anxiety, counting calories, fat, etc; the joy of that feeling is never fully there anymore. Even now, as I sit here and begin to write this, I still cannot believe this has been my journey, and I have so much anxiety because then everyone will know. This is the first time for me to publicly say that I have an eating disorder. At 16 I fell hard for a boy. He was my first love, and I gave him everything. I was constantly looking for attention, approval, and love in the wrong places. When it ended, I was left with my heart broken, lost and feeling completely alone. I was always looking for someone or something to fulfill me, instead of looking and longing for any kind of relationship with God. I would always go to Wednesday night church with a group of friends and I always knew what I needed to do but I reached a point where I thought that God couldn’t possibly forgive me for what I had done. I thought no one would love me again because of my choices. I had all the love I ever needed right there but couldn’t see it. I was so down on myself. I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I began to become depressed, and during that time I felt that I lost control over everything in my life so I felt the only thing I could control was my weight. My mom would make dinner, and I would play with my food long enough that no one would notice I didn’t eat it. I weighed myself every chance I got and I was always looking into the mirror pulling at “my fat.” In no time, I went from a size 4 to a zero, from 125lbs to 109. My parents tried sending me to a therapist, but I wasn’t ready, “I was in control.” Having anorexia and “controlling” my life in that way meant I did not have to deal with the hurt I was also hiding in my life. I felt like people began to notice me more, they would complement me and tell me how good I look, so I was going to keep doing what I was doing. Over time my heart was slowly healing, but it wasn’t whole. There are times I knew I needed to stop not eating, but I couldn’t do it. I had done it for so long that I loved my image and it became my new normal. If I would have been more concerned developing and patching my relationship with God, it would have helped me sooner. Months later, I met a boy who would end up being my husband. He was a pure gentleman and pursued me with a gentle heart. He was very strong in his catholic faith and his love of God, and it was exactly the person I needed in my life. It wasn’t until the day he told me he loved me that I realized I couldn’t truly love someone if I didn’t love myself. He brought me closer to God and showed me that putting God first was important. He patiently waited for me until I was ready to give him my whole heart, flaws and all. My husband knew about my eating disorder and was very supportive and loving, but it still wasn’t strong enough to keep it at bay. Five years later while in college, I had to take an Addiction Disorder and Recovery Studies class, little did I know what a blessing it would be. I thought it would reassure me that I was cured, I didn’t still have a problem …boy was I wrong! I came home after lecture one day bewildered, confused, upset, you name it! It was that day I realized I will live with anorexia, I will NEVER not have an eating disorder. This was really hard for me to accept. I cried and cried and prayed for God to give me strength to be the best version of myself. I prayed God would help me to be happy where I am in my life and, when my anxiety or worries come, to give me strength to fight them. When I would pray I would immediately feel this calming presence come over me. It was such a relief feeling Him there telling me I will never be alone. A year later, I had our first daughter. It was a hard adjustment with me trying to finish college and my husband in medical school. The stress and loss of control crept in and I relapsed. I began skipping meals, weighing myself at least 10 times a day, and over exercising. Not to mention the amount of pressure that is put on women to lose the baby weight. I finally admitted I needed to get to a counselor, and it saved me. One of my professors, who was also a counselor, suffered with an eating disorder. I learned a lot from her, and she held me accountable on a lot of my issues. One of the most empowering things I have ever done is throw away the scale I kept in our house; it doesn’t sound like much but it took me months to be able to do that because I would no longer know what my weight was every day, and I will tell you it was the most freeing thing I have ever done. Another fellow Christian woman that I met that has an eating disorder was there for me for this and helped give the strength to do this. I still to this day cannot go down the aisles that have scales because it gives me anxiety. Fast forward 12 years later from the start and I can still tell you that my eating disorder is there, but I have been healthy for 5 ½ years. I fully believe I am a mom to girls to make me stronger, to make me want to be better for them and for our family. There have been challenges and times where I have the urges, but in those moments, I pray and just talk to God. In one of the devotions I am reading Draw the Circle, there is a quote; “The primary purpose of prayer is not to change circumstances; the primary purpose is to change us!” This is so powerful for me! I want Him to give me the strength I need to be a positive example for our three daughters. Knowing I lead them by example pushes me to be more aware of myself and my tendencies to relapse. I am so grateful for God’s forgiveness, mercy, and his grace. I do not feel empty anymore, and my life is so full of so many wonderful things that I work hard to remember the positives. I have found having my girls exercise with me and help me shop at the grocery store helps me to enjoy food and life in a healthy way. I still have days when I want to make the wrong choices, or the times I may see a girl walk by with what I think is the perfect image; I immediately start dissecting my body and what is “disgusting,” and then after my freak out I pray to take those thoughts away. So instead of wasting time thinking those thoughts, I fill that space with the positives in my life. I cannot explain the calm that overcomes me. Talking to God is the most calming thing I do and I know He is listening to me. I am always trying to find a book or devotional to give me new insight to help me better myself in all aspects of life. If this can help even one person, that is a blessing…if more that is amazing. I have had so many mentors, my amazing counselor, my husband and my parents help me through this so do not feel like you have to go through this alone. There is always someone out there who can help you, even if it’s just to listen, cry with you, love you or pray with you, you are never alone. I hope that my experience can be a learning one or comfort to someone who is in need. Always remember, “I am the captain of my fate, I am the master of my soul.” You control your destiny and can change your story’s ending at any point. It takes strength and God’s grace and mercy; with that, anything is possible. Quote by William Henley
8 Comments
You have cancer. Nothing prepares you to hear those words. Those words have always belonged to someone else’s life, but not mine. Countless friends and family members had heard those words, but not me….that is not until April of 2015. You have cancer were the words that would change my life. Finding out you have cancer is like being on a train and it suddenly stops. There’s a deafening silence, a disorientation and then there’s the question…what happened? Why did my train stop? What do I do know? Am I still headed in the same direction? Will my train start up again? My first job out of college was working for the American Cancer Society. I worked there for 8 years and helped many, many cancer patients over those years. During this time I grew accustom to fitting women with wigs because they had lost their hair, fitting women with prosthesis in the cavity where once was a breast was and mourning the loss when one of our clients would pass away. I let myself believe by helping others I was somehow immune from cancer. Flash forward to March of last year and my yearly mammogram. I had them faithfully since the age of 40 and felt this would keep me from getting cancer too. I had begun noticing a thickening or change in my left breast (no lumps) during my breast self-check exams a few months earlier. When I went for my mammogram, I asked the tech to be sure and look carefully in that area. To my amazement she said she needed to take another picture. Then she said yes there’s something there, let me take it to the radiologist. She left me sitting in the room by myself for a long time and that’s when the first thought came to me, “what if it’s cancer?” After what seemed a very long time, she came back in and said the radiologist wants to see you. He showed me the spot and said I needed to see a surgeon but he tried to reassure me it could be possibly just a fibroid or cyst. Even after all this and being referred to a surgeon, I still wouldn’t believe or entertain the thought I could have cancer. When I went to the surgeon, he told me he could do a biopsy and I could have the biopsy surgery the next day. I lost it. I told him I didn’t have time for surgery because I had to plan to take time off work and mentally prepare myself for something like this. I settled for a stereotactic biopsy in his office the next Monday after Easter. I didn’t tell anyone except of course my husband I was having the biopsy. I went by myself because it was really important during this time that no one know, and I thought I was being brave. Honestly, I think I was still in denial and the bad dream would go away. I have always been a very private person so if it was cancer, I knew I would probably have to make it public and for me the attention and worried looks and questions would be very hard to manage. I went to work after the biopsy, sore, my breast bandaged and didn’t tell a soul. They told me it would take a couple of days on the results and I waited and assured myself it was a cyst or something that wouldn’t require any treatment. I bargained, pleaded and cried to God for it to be benign. I was rocking along in my life – trying to keep the pieces of a very busy life together and I didn’t have time for cancer. I was more worried how cancer would interrupt my “normal” life. I knew if I had cancer it would mean treatments and surgeries and possibly even facing my own mortality. I didn’t know how I would keep working and not let it interrupt my life too much. I didn’t want the attention or vulnerability cancer would bring. I received the results three days later, April 9 at work, as I was winding up the day. The nurse called and said, its cancer. I was in shock. There it was…the spector that haunts the lives of so many. I got my purse and left the building like nothing was wrong, waited until I was in my car and called my husband bawling. I was most upset about having to call and tell my parents. My Mom had her own breast cancer battle a few years earlier and we were still trying to come to grips from going through her journey. And in their eyes, I was still their little girl. How was this going to affect them? Your children aren’t supposed to suffer. I had my lumpectomy on May 13 and a week later we celebrated my daughter’s wedding. Yes, during all of this, I was planning a wedding trying to carry on life as normal as possible. It took me awhile to tell my daughter because I didn’t want to put a damper on her special day. I saw the oncologist a week after my daughter’s wedding. Walking into the Texoma Cancer Center as a patient, I remember what a surreal, almost out of body experience, it was for me. I couldn’t believe I was walking in there as a patient, not as a cancer advocate. I knew so many people in there and everyone would stop and ask me why I was there and then get a sad look on their face. I knew that look well. I’d seen it many times before. We met with the oncologist and I wish I could tell you I was stoic but it didn’t happen. I was crying the whole time, especially when he said I needed chemotherapy. One of my fears for as long as I could remember was losing my hair. I probably got this fear from working with cancer patients but when my oncologist told me I would need chemo, I knew exactly what that meant and my worst fear would come true. Exactly 21 days after my first chemo, my hair started falling out. Interestingly enough, I wanted my hair to fall out at this moment because my scalp was so tender and my hair hurt. I had my dear hairdresser Teresa shave it all off and I started wearing a wig. (As a side note, I got so many compliments wearing a wig. In fact, my own daughter told me she liked it better than my own hair.) But God is so good and my hair grew back, darker, thicker and with more body I could have only dreamed about before chemo. Cancer was a gift. How can something that ravages your body and possibly kill you be a gift? In It’s a Wonderful Life, George Bailey gets to see what life would be like without him. I was given the most precious gift in the world. God put people in my path continuously who encouraged me, helping me to keep it together. I got to see how much people loved me during this time. I didn’t have to imagine who would show up at my funeral. I was humbled to the core from the dinners, cards, money, t-shirts made with my name on them and worn by so many people – everything everyone did to show me love. God’s grace was sufficient to carry me through this difficult time and this gave me a new outlook on my experience. Cancer gave me the gift of time. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. Today is our gift: to show love to others as God loves us and to walk in forgiveness with others. Cancer gave me the courage to start With These Words, a writing business with my dear friend Ashlei and follow my passion for writing. I know I wouldn’t have made a life altering decision to quit my job and start a new venture if I hadn’t had cancer. I’m not saying those decisions can only be made if you have cancer. Cancer just reminded me of how short life is and what was I waiting for? Cancer tried to take my confidence, my courage and my love of life. I would like to tell you I went through my whole cancer journey with a Pollyannaish attitude and pink positivity. But I didn’t. I cried when exhaustion would set in and I prayed to God every single day for strength, especially on the days I would drive to Decatur for radiation after working all day. Courage dear heart became my motto. I needed something to hold on to. My friend Ashlei made me a sign with those words and had all my friends sign it. I hung it on my wall at work and every day I would look at it and remind myself to have courage. This article is dedicated to anyone fighting cancer or is a cancer survivor facing what seems to be unsurmountable obstacles and to remind you to have Courage, Dear Heart.
I never really knew a life apart from God. I grew up in a loving home with my parents and two sisters. I was born in California, moved to Colorado just before 6th grade, then to Texas in 9th grade. We attended Presbyterian churches on Sundays, but I never really connected with God. I believed the stories, but didn't feel His presence, or hear His voice. I didn't know what a relationship with the Lord looked like. I went to Young Life early on in high school and chose to follow Jesus. I wanted what they talked about! I thought that I was being a "good Christian" because I wasn't drinking on the weekends, or having sex with my boyfriend. I thought that was good! When I was a sophomore in high school, I met a guy through an acquaintance. She told both of us separately that we would be perfect for each other! One day, she pointed him out to me in the hall, but Kingwood High School was huge and I wasn't super outgoing. Fast forward to senior year and I formally meet him through mutual friends. We hang with the same group and both worked at my friend's mom's toy store. We just enjoyed spending time together...as friends. We took a defensive driving class together and I remember at one point, I sneezed. I don't know...I guess it was a funny sneeze...The comedian teacher looked at him and asked, “Does she ALWAYS sneeze like that?!" and he just shrugged and laughed. I remember thinking "I want him to know how I sneeze." He moved to Colorado and we lost touch for about 10 months. I remember being excited to hear he was coming back into town, I had missed my friend. He came to my house the night he got into town and we went on our first date the next night. We both knew pretty early on that we were "done"...we wanted to get married, but we fell into sexual sin. Shame and guilt were fierce, but we kept down that road. Like Adam & Eve, we hid from God, instead of turning and repenting. We bought into the lie that since we both knew we were going to get married eventually, it would be ok. Without realizing it, I had put my guy in my God spot. God created a place in our hearts that is for Him only, and instead, I was consumed with my new relationship. When we put someone in that God spot, we are setting ourselves for failure. My guy joined the Coast Guard and got stationed in San Francisco. Before he had joined the Coast Guard, I had already planned on going to the University of Texas in the fall...so that's what I did. But our relationship was the most important thing in my life...my grades were mediocre, and I really lived to talk to him/plan when we'd see each other next. We married in July of 2000, I was 19 and he was 21. After the wedding, we drove a UHaul packed to the gills to California to start our life together. I had two years left of college, but figured I'd finish wherever we transferred next, he only had a few months left in San Francisco. We got what we had hoped....we were moving to Hawaii! Just after we moved, I found out I was pregnant! We joke that we can't drink from the same cup, because I'll get pregnant. In six and a half years, I had five boys (three in Hawaii). After a healthy first baby boy, we were surprised to learn our second son had a rare chromosome abnormality called Trisomy 13. The doctors gave him a 2% chance of being born alive, but we were blessed with three days with him. We just celebrated his birthday last week, he would be 13! We considered those three days our miracle, and thanked God for that. But, there was still grief. We attended church, I went to a bible study, but still, I felt lost. My arms were empty, and so felt my heart. We pushed the pain down, and pulled ourselves up and kept going. I feel like I didn't allow myself to go through the grieving process properly. After Hawaii, we moved to Galveston, then Rhode Island, then California, Florida, Virginia...my role as military wife and mom of four boys was consuming. My identity had been rooted in being a Coast Guard wife and mom. But, the truth is my identity is in God. He showed me who I really am! My family can be taken away, but my God will not leave me. "And the Lord, He is the One who goes before you. He will be with you, He will not leave you nor forsake you, do not fear, nor be dismayed." Deuteronomy 31:8 Five years ago I learned of my husband's betrayal to me and our covenant. Remember, my joy was found in him....it was devastating. I had another choice. I believed God loved me, but I was angry. I was careful with whom I shared what I was going through at the time, and I remember someone said "this too shall pass" I felt like that was so harsh. I wanted to be coddled, I was the victim. I stayed there for some time. But, I want to be powerful. I don't want my life to be a reaction to what happens around me. Things happen to us that we cannot control, but we have the choice in how we will respond. I want my response to reflect my beliefs, so that means respond in truth, grace, love. When you can't trust anyone else, trust God. Trust that he will put people in your path that will walk beside you. Pray and ask Him for that! We were blessed to be able to go to a weekend intensive. Basically, it was a counseling session over a whole weekend... just my husband, the husband & wife counseling team & me. There, we were prayed for, poured into, and seeds were sewn for restoration. I say "seeds" intentionally, we were not restored in one weekend; it is a process! A process that we really wanted to speed up, but we have to crawl before we walk, or run. "Trust the process," I can't tell you how many times we were told that...but you know what? It's true. We had to walk through and address the pain, even old pain and grief, in order to get move toward our goal. I had to choose if I was going to forgive, and move forward with my husband. Staying in the hurt place where I felt like a victim was leading me to anger & bitterness, and that's not who I wanted to be. Not for myself, or for an example for my boys. We both had work to do. It was messy. It wasn't perfect. I know I tried to pick up & use weapons that weren't in line with who I am...I tried to punish my husband, but I'm not the punisher. I tried to hurt him to show him how much he'd hurt me...but that's not who I wanted to be. With lots of prayer, therapy and wise counsel, we both chose to move towards connection. We were going to a church at the time, but we met with the pastor and his wife and they sympathized with us, but were not equipped to walk beside us. I got a text, on a Tuesday from my husband asking, “Do you want to try a new church tonight? I found it online and they have a Tuesday night service." I agreed. We dropped the boys off in their classes, walked into the sanctuary & sat in the back. We sat, while for the next 2 hours, the worship team prayed & sang, sometimes songs, sometimes spontaneous worship. And, I was lost. I remember the worship leader saying “Do you feel the joy of the Lord? If you don't, come up here...we want to pray for you" and my husband went up. He sat down at the front, sobbing. I stayed in the back, crying with my eyes closed, mad at God for not showing up for me and just mad. I felt a hand on my shoulder & opened my eyes. It was the worship leader. She introduced herself; she said, “My name is Bebette. I saw you walk in & I've been worshipping for you tonight. I know what you've been through, I went through it too, here's my number if you ever want to talk...I'm a pastor here." I don't even know if what I said back was coherent, but she was reassuring, said "I know. Call me," and that was a turning point. We started going to that church, and I started meeting with Bebette, weekly. I learned so much there, and started to really grow in my walk with the Lord. I knew I had chosen to stay in my marriage, but it didn't know what forgiveness looked like. It's easy to say that we forgive someone for an offense, but what does that look like when you really still hurt? I thought forgiveness was letting someone off the hook for what they'd done. When, really, forgiveness does not excuse the offense, it isn't for the offender at all. Forgiveness is for the offended.... For me, it was choosing to let go of blame. I'm not the judge, or jury. We all sin. We all fall short. While I acknowledged that there were areas where I still needed healing, I wasn't going to stay stuck in, and live based on my hurt. I CHOSE to move forward. My goal was connection, and restoration in my relationship with my husband, and in order to step into that, I had to CHOOSE to think the best about him. Regardless of the way I felt. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 1 Cor 13:7 In order for us to start moving in a positive direction, I had to step out of my own pain. To look outside myself and look toward the goal! I'm thankful that Jesus forgives me, and I choose joy. I choose freedom. We are only able to forgive because we were forgiven. Christ forgave all of our sins when He died on the cross. Past, present and future sins are all covered by his blood. They are finished. TRUST in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding Proverbs 3:5 Rose Gold Foiled Print by Lily and Sparrow Design Co. That tells us to not even trust our own understanding! We are commanded to trust Him. I had to learn how to trust God with my situation….Trust God with His timing…Trust God with my husband and that He had him where he wanted him. We are designed to live out of trust. My identity is a child of God, a chosen one! Jesus chooses me. Even when we don't feel chosen by others, Jesus chooses us. If we choose to forgive others, and trust God, He gives us freedom! I tend to want to control things. There is such freedom when we learn to give God control & just let Him work things out....He always does! This is not one choice we make...we are constantly renewing our minds, we'll be tempted to go back to our old ways, or what we feel like...but choose to believe and trust in the Lord! My story is really His story...and while I am thankful for the restoration in my marriage...my guy is reaching toward God, instead of trying to please others & himself. We are where God promised... but…more than the thankfulness in restoration of my marriage, I praise Jesus for the relationship with my God!! I am so thankful that my eyes were opened to my own foolishness. My need for Christ is great, and He is able to meet that need. Dear Heart Design's pieces are meant to provide opportunities to share your story or testimony with others. Each story shared in Unveiling Grace receives a piece to allow them to further share their story with others every single day. Have a story to share? www.dearheartdesigns.com
I had always believed in God, but something shifted in my heart towards the end of my high school years. I went to a college prep school and was ready to attend a university after graduation. The Lord had other plans. He began whispering to my heart and gently nudging me in a different direction. I began to truly seek Him out in prayer and heard His clear direction for my life. A few weeks before graduation, I knew that God’s plan was different than the plans I had made. In an act of obedience, I revoked my college acceptance and put in an application for Discipleship Training School. After more prayer, I knew that I had made the right choice. The Lord quieted my fears & I chose to trust in His guidance. While my peers headed off to college, I was on a plane to Maui for an intense six months of diving deeper into the knowledge of God. During my discipleship training, I gained such a hunger to know God and I began to have a relationship with Him that I never experienced before. He was finally my center and I was hungry for more. While I was planning to attend photography school through the same organization, God had other plans in mind. He led me to do a four month house of prayer internship where my love and knowledge of God was deepened even more. It was easier to trust in His plans this time around. I was familiar with His voice and knew that if He had proven Himself faithful before, He wouldn’t let me down this time. It was during these four months that I learned how He longs for His sons & daughters to partner with His heart. It was here that I committed my heart to that end. After this internship, I finally attended photography school. I learned to pursue Jesus in a trade that brought life to my heart. He was equipping me with the tools I needed to bring glory to Him and to walk out a life of loving Him and loving others. I never could have orchestrated this on my own. I’m now His daughter, a wife, and a mother. Every day, with a lot of grace, I’m learning how to love my little family the way that the Lord loves me. One thing that I know is true: letting go is necessary if you want to walk on the path that He calls you to. Let go of fear. Let go of control. Let go of you. Once you do, He will give you more than you could ever ask or imagine. Prepare for the unexpected! I’ve experienced it firsthand. Daily I have to remind myself to lay my life down and let go. When I feel fear of failure creeping in, I remind myself. When I feel like my success is based on my own strength, I remind myself. When I think I have it all figured out, I remind myself. He is good. He loves me. His way is perfect. No matter the journey you’re on, I want you to know that your story matters. I’ve often felt that I have nothing to share. That my story wasn’t dramatic or interesting enough to be meaningful. It is meaningful, and if my story can be used, so can yours. Note from Editor: Sarah is an extremely talented Wedding and Lifestyle photographer in the Wichita Falls and DFW area. You can check out her work here: http://www.sarahlanette.com His way is perfect Half Moon Necklace can be purchased here. Dear Heart Design's pieces are meant to provide opportunities to share your story or testimony with others. Each story shared in Unveiling Grace receives a piece to allow them to further share their story with others every single day. Have a story to share? www.dearheartdesigns.com
I remember sitting in the backseat of my mothers car crying, screaming and unable to catch my breath. I was young, confused and angry. My mom had just picked my siblings and I up from my biological father’s house, and I couldn't wrap my head around why my parents weren't together like all my friends parents. I have very few memories now of them together, the majority of the ones I do have are not good at all. So why such a fuss from my younger self, because I was told to. I was told that no one else could ever be my father regardless who my mom married. I was hearing things that no child should hear from their father. I was constantly compared to my sister and told I wasn't good enough or capable, all of which I came to believe. Then Kurt came along. My mother was a single parent of three kids and he also was a single parent of one. Thinking of all of the words that describe the gift that Kurt is moves me so. This man willingly walked into our crazy lives, never voiced one opinion of our biological father to us and came to all of our games, school programs...basically anything anything he was able to make it to, he did. He was there. He was a positive, imperfect but willing man whereas my biological dad was not. He was and is my real father to me. My mother was a very strong, complicated woman who had many demons from her childhood that she tried to drown out by self medicating with alcohol. Her first drink was when she was thirteen and her last was around age forty. I remember like it was just yesterday leaving a wedding where she had her own weight in "grown up jello" and tried driving the both of us home. She was this different person that night. She was like a child; scared but invincibly selfish. I was crying/she was laughing. I made her pull over at a gas station so that I could call Kurt. My twelfth birthday was at Red River Hospital which is a behavioral center. Every week I went with my mom to AA meetings where I heard and saw things I probably shouldn't but now am thankful for. I was exposed to a side of humanity that is shamed, degraded and corruptive...I was exposed to addiction in such a way that I didn't have to live it to learn it. I became very familiar with the twelve step program, what all it’s initials and saw what relapsing really looked like at a very young age. I saw Jesus' love and forgiveness for the first time in an old run down AA building full of broken, beaten down adults but I didn't realize that was Him at the time. August 28th, 2006 It was a Monday, my freshman year of high school, it had rained the night before. On my way into the building I dropped my brand new, first ever cell phone into a huge pile of mud. Life as I knew it was over. Shortly after that I got called to the principles office to find my mom the stillest I had ever seen her and the only thing she could say was "We need to go home." Immediately I started sweating, "How could she know about my phone? I am going to be grounded until I am thirty!" We lived about twenty minutes outside of town, the entire ride home my mom said nothing. I could tell something was wrong, I thought it was anger and my mind ran wild with the endless possible punishments she could choose from. I remember she sat me in my dads recliner, she said very calmly "your uncle's plane has been reported missing." Her hands were pressing down on my shoulders for a few seconds as if she were afraid I would fly away and then she turned around, turned the TV to the news, sat at the dining table to light a cigarette with the same stillness she displayed in the office. I don't remember much after that point but one of the things I remember so vividly is being so sure that they (my grandma, my aunt and uncle, and my four cousins) were all safe. We were waiting on a call to verify whether or not they were all safe. I honestly don't know how long we waited, but It felt like months. Somewhere amongst the crazy we went to my grandmothers house which was in town, we glued ourselves in front of the TV and waited, and waited, and waited. This entire time I held back the tears, that’s when I heard my mother scream. I remember being in a different room when I heard her and thinking something so innocent happened like she slipped and fell or accidentally cut herself in the kitchen, but that was so far from the truth. I ran into the room where everyone was and only saw the news, I couldn't hear anything but they were showing a plane that had crashed into the side of a mountain. I instantly became numb. Just like that, they were all gone. Still, I had to be strong. I refused to cry in front of my mom and tried my hardest to keep from crying at all. I remember my father and siblings being worried about my moms sobriety, she lost her mother, sister and her babies all at one time. The long rides home were filled with my mothers sobbing and my teenage self trying to comfort her. I wasn't raised in a very religious or bible savvy environment, in fact the only knowledge I had was rejection from the Catholic Church because my parents were divorced along with little glimpses of hope that I was blessed to see through my moms recovery. For the first time in my life I saw her asking for help, I saw her admit she wasn't in control and pray. She had never been more beautiful to me. I would wake up from sleeping days at a time to her on her knees by her bed praying with her rosary beads. Then anger came to me in full force.
I felt that if I turned off my faith and trusted only myself that I would have full control of my life. Everything was great, or so I thought, until the end of my Junior year of high school. I was raped by someone I knew the summer before my senior year. Something was taken from me and I could never get it back. The anger inside continued to grow. I think I tried to down play it in my own head for the first week or so but it only grew. A couple of days later my sister and I found my mom's purse hidden in the strangest place at our lake house. On her phone we found messages to another man. Messages that were not appropriate for a married woman to be sending or receiving. In that moment, my image of my strong, loving and amazing mother was shattered and my rape seemed so unimportant. My anger grew even more. "GOD, WHY? You have already taken so much from me, now this?" We have already gone through loss, we have already felt so much and all we had at that point was each other...but even that had to be taken from us. My sister and I contemplated how we should handle what we found and felt we should confront her, so we did.
That night was the first time I had ever truly prayed. I had nothing else and needed help, so I swallowed my pride and prayed. I felt something deep inside of my soul that at the time scared the heck out of me so much that I didn't pray again for about a year. I now know what I felt was the Lord calling my name, The Spirit wrapping around me and comforting me. Some time passed and my parents struggled. My dad made a list of things that my mom needed to do if she wanted him to stay. It took her a while, but she did everything that he wanted. October 9th, 2009. It was my senior year of high school. My parents were the happiest I had ever seen them, and for the first time I was actually enjoying school. I was walking out to my car with my friend when I got a call from my biological dad. He said, "Something has happened to your mom." I could tell by his tone something was really wrong. Before I could respond or freak out he reassured me that everything was okay and asked me to give the phone to my friend. He asked her to drive me to the hospital, she did. I walked into the ER, my family was sitting in a little side room. I will never forget the moment we were told she was gone. One of my sisters screamed the same exact scream my mom let out when we found out about the plane crash. I couldn't really process what was happening and all I wanted was to see my mom. So I went. What I found was not what I was expecting. There were a million wires and tubes connecting her body to the endless amount of machines around her. My warm, energetic mommy was now a cold, still body on a table. Some sort of heart aneurism had taken my mom away from me. She was only forty-five, she was finally at peace with her past, she was at peace with the present, she was truly able to enjoy her marriage and family, and she was going on six years clean and sober. For the first time things were easy and made sense. Why couldn't we have been able to live in the easy just a little bit longer? After everything you would think that we deserve that much. I fell into a very dark and exhausting place for some time. I have very few memories of the weeks that followed but the things that I do remember struck me so deeply that to this day I even remember the smallest details. My "Harley-Davidson," tough father was lost. We had MANY conversations about my mom, his anger and heart ache. He felt robbed, finally their relationship was on the rise and then it ended. Even more so, he felt us kids were robbed. To this day he still gets a little teary eyed when he says, "No one should have to deal with losing their mom at 18." My entire life I had this misconceived perception that I needed to be perfect, pray perfectly or be on this "all knowing bible verse" level in order to be a Christian, to declare my faith or have a relationship with Jesus Christ and that perception made me angry and bitter, how am I supposed to be perfect? I couldn't ever reach perfection, so why try...I was so hard headed and prideful. It was so easy to place blame on God instead of dealing with the true feelings I had and still have. For so long I was the one questioning things or forming negative opinions because of my lack of knowledge, fear, hypocrisy or whatever I wanted the excuse to be that day but my excuses were never challenged until I met Brendan who is almost as hard headed as me. I finally wasn't ridiculed or denied because of my thoughts towards church or even my anger with God. Instead, I was heard, appreciated and loved anyway. This person came from nowhere and his response to my idea of what Christianity looked like was so simple but it hit me like a bag of bricks. No one is perfect, not even a Christian. And then he went on to tell me about Jesus and how God knew we weren't perfect so he sacrificed his son. At that very moment every single one of my walls came crashing down. I was completely vulnerable, willing and fearless. Truth was spoken to me and accepted it. I was encouraged to be honest with myself, and not point blame or form an opinion on something out of fear of being hurt, misunderstood or unloved. I crave vulnerability and truth but it is still so easy for me to walk away from something if I feel it lacks either of those things. In my head if I walk away, I am in control, if I stick around and it all falls apart my heart is liable. Because I was finally honest with myself I was able to look back on things that had happened in my life in such a different way and notice how somethings just fell so perfectly in place that it seemed as if they were almost hand placed; I could question why I was given the biologic dad I was but I now know that he is such a blessing, if I didn't learn how to stand up for myself by him I would most likely still be in a horrible relationship or worse, dead. We were all blessed with one last day with each other right before the plane crash, my aunt and uncle had everyone get together at their lake house for the heck of it. Something even crazier is the fact that my mother was actually supposed to go with the rest of the family on the plane, but decided not to go last minute because my sister had a dream that the plane was going to crash. My mom was able to find peace and be really happy after living such a difficult life. All of these things and so much more were signs of God's unrelenting love for me, but still I was being held stagnant by my fear. Until Easter service of 2015, that very man who crashed down my walls and continued to pursue my heart was leading worship. Over and over again they sang the words "I am no longer a slave to fear, I am a child of God" and I could hear Jesus, so clearly, calling my name. It was so powerful and pure, yet I couldn't move. Randomly, someone from the congregation walked down, told the pastor they wanted to be baptized and accepted Jesus Christ as their savior. Just like that! Why couldn't I do that? I knew that He has always been by my side, through all of the pain and joy. But fear still had control over me. Then another person, randomly walked down. They too were baptized...and then another person walked down. I felt the holy spirit at work, the spirit was so powerful and beautiful. Why am I not moving!! What is wrong with me? At this point the service was over, I was shaking and crying uncontrollably. I walk back stage to find Brendan, he hugged me for a moment and then I whispered "I am ready." I was baptized, I declared my faith and accepted Jesus Christ as my savior! I was admitting that I wasn't in control of anything, and that is okay. I can't handle it all by myself and we weren't meant to. It took me finding a genuine man who saw me for who I truly was and fought for that truth for me to see Jesus in a way that wasn't blurred by bitterness. I now am married to that very man, that man that God led to me. To show me truth and speak truth, I am refined by fire. 1 Peter 1:6-7 "In this, you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials so that the tested genuineness of your faith - more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire - may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ." I am no longer burdened by my anger or bitterness because I now have a relationship with Jesus. The things that happened in my past aren't something to be ashamed of or things to wear as scars. They have refined me into the woman I am today, and I love that woman. A woman who is no longer a slave to fear, but a child of God.. He called me by my name, and He's calling you too.
Royal Quartz stone with "refined by fire" on the tag. Dear Heart Design's pieces are meant to provide opportunities to share your story or testimony with others. Each story shared in Unveiling Grace receives a piece to allow them to further share their story with others every single day. Have a story to share? www.dearheartdesigns.com
It is a long, humbling journey of forgiveness when the one you loved wounded your soul... “We need to talk…” “I am having an affair…” Those words crushed deep into my heart, as I struggled to pick up what was left of my now broken family. Strangely enough, the only thing speaking through my mind in those moments were these words…”You must forgive him, as I have forgiven you.” The other half of my brain was saying “What, Lord? Why are you asking me to do this? He had just committed the ultimate betrayal in our marriage and I have to forgive him, right now at this moment!? This is completely absurd!” My heart was tormented, as I desperately wanted to scream and lose every ounce of dignity I had left. The silence weighed heavily in the room where two souls were once one. We suddenly couldn’t recognize the other person anymore. I uttered the words: “I forgive you...I love you…” I never imagined I would ever have to experience this kind of pain as an idealistic, nineteen year old standing in a white dress in front of the man I loved and thought I would love forever. Days went by as my husband and I struggled to live in one accord and reconcile what was now a broken marriage. I would wake up and throughout the day beg God to restore my marriage, to work in me and mold me into the ideal image of a godly, supportive, loving wife and mother. I thought of every possible thing I could do to draw my husband back to myself. I began to lose myself altogether in the pursuit. A month passed and every movement we made became robotic and cold, as he drifted further and further away and the damage grew larger as the infidelity unfolded further. I mustered up every ounce of strength I could to be there for my 18 month old son. I slowly began to lose hope. “I do not love you anymore…” Those words, told to me over and over, ripped through my heart like shrapnel. The love of my life, my best friend, my husband did not love me anymore. I died inside. I thought “Lord, why did this happen? Where is there ANY good in this? This cannot be a part of your plan for my life.” What Satan intends for evil, God uses for good. Divorcee. Single mother. Rejected. For the longest time, those words crashed over me with an upsurge of negativity. I would look in the mirror and feel absolutely ashamed. I felt like a complete failure. I couldn’t save my marriage. I couldn’t provide the picturesque, two-parent, loving Christian home to my little boy. My reality now was a broken home. I often think about the story of Job, and how through everything he endured, all the pain and loss, he is remembered in this way: “Through all of this, Job did not sin nor did he blame God.” Job 1:22. I blamed God a lot throughout the process of my divorce, but God was gentle and patient with me while I sought to reconcile my life to where He wanted me to be. Through the last few years, I have learned a lot about our Heavenly Father by depending on Him. He shows himself through my precious son every time I am with him. Watching my son grow has opened my eyes to the blemishes and perils of this world while simultaneously showing me the beauty of life, selflessness, motherhood, and most importantly, that there is hope and redemption in no other but Jesus. Ethan is my evidence that even when painful circumstances feel overwhelmingly dark, God is sovereign over everything, and He is GOOD. Although I have not seen the fullness of God’s plan for this journey in my life, I have embraced the true meaning of forgiveness. I have forgiven him and I trust that God is writing my story and will continue to redeem my life. My God restores, He makes all things new. He brings beauty from ashes. Dear Heart Design's pieces are meant to provide opportunities to share your story or testimony with others. Each story shared in Unveiling Grace receives a piece to allow them to further share their story with others every single day. Have a story to share? www.dearheartdesigns.com Photography by Nichole Kirk Photography
All of my life, any time I was asked what I wanted most out of my life, I would always say “I want to be a wife and a momma.” Everything I imagined my life would be was enveloped in that dream of having a husband that I adored and a beautiful baby that was a perfect blend of us both. On May 18, 2012, the first part of my dream fell into place. That was the day I married my precious husband, Bryce. I was twenty years old, in the middle of nursing school and so incredibly in love. We knew we both wanted to graduate college before bringing babies into the world, and we were convinced that whenever we were both ready, it would just happen. Two and a half years into marriage and we both just felt the time was right, we would move on to the next step in life and become parents. Things are not always so simple, unfortunately. After nine months of heartbreak, and DOZENS of negative home pregnancy test kits, I was given a diagnosis that at least answered some of my questions as to why we had gotten nowhere. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome..it even looks heavy all typed out now as it did when I heard my doctor say those words. I am one in ten women with this condition. “It is treatable, and many women still go on to conceive and carry healthy babies”, he said.
We also found out during this time that my husband had abnormalities of his own. Just over a year into our journey of starting a family, he had to have a corrective surgery. It felt like the odds were stacked against us. In all of this, I wondered where God was. I was angry that He would make me walk through this, that He would make my husband walk through this. I did not understand. Sometimes, I still don’t. In all of my doubt, and all of my anger, and all of my fear, God was still there. He had blessed me with a husband who loves me more than life and has supported me and comforted me through everything, and a best friend who has held my hand and cried with me and prayed over me. They showed me that God was still present and active in my life and He even had things coming for me I didn’t expect in a million years. I didn’t know at that time, but God was bringing me exactly what my “momma heart” needed. He brought these airmen I had taken to church, two of them in particular, into my world. They needed someone to love them and care for them while away from home for the first time, and I needed someone to love and take care for. They call me “Mom”. They even wished me a happy Mother’s Day and made me feel included when my body told me I was not. Now, we are sitting at eighteen months with no child in sight. I know that there are couples who have waited longer, or are never able to have children of their own, so I don’t share my story to make others feel sad or even bitter that I haven’t been struggling as long as it feels it has been to me, but to just let the message out there that we are not alone. God has not forgotten me. He has not forgotten you. I struggle still with trying to remember that my God is good, and He has good in store for me, but it doesn’t make it any less true. I do not know what our future holds, whether we are to foster, or adopt, or pursue other medical options, but I do know that I can trust my Jesus and know that God has brought blessing out of barrenness, and He will continue to, all for His glory. I am okay with that. Not my will, but yours, Lord..
Photography by Nichole Kirk
|
Archives
October 2016
Categories |