Imperfect People

Good morning friends!

I am so excited to tell you that today I am doing my first ever guest post over at Imperfect People in love with a Perfect God. 

I encourage you to not only stop by and read my testimony, but take time to check out the awesome site and read the stories of the many beautiful women who have shared before me. I am honored and humbled to be a part of this ministry, and would like to say a big Thank You to Katie for giving me this opportunity.

Have a blessed day!

On Days Like Today

Two years ago when I discovered that the severe pain I was having was an issue involving my ovaries, I had hope. Hope that this issue would go away on its own and leave me healthy and feeling good, and able to have children.

Since then I have had test after test, doctor's appointment after doctor's appointment, and after each one I find my hope has dwindled just a little.

Then two weeks ago I had surgery. Going into surgery I had hope that after all the bad stuff was removed, I would recover and be healthy and feeling good, and be able to have children.

After the surgery I learned that although I kept the good stuff that I need, the bad stuff was everywhere, and that the cause of it is something that comes back. Still, I had hope that after surgery I would recover and be healthy and feeling good for a long time, maybe even years, before it comes back, and that during this time I would be able to have children.

Then today I had my post-op appointment, and lets just say that I came home with what's left of my hope. If I am able to have children, it will be by the grace of God. And either way, with or without being able to carry a child of my own, it's going to be a long and painful road, just living with my diagnosis.

In the beginning of this journey, I found this verse, and since have carried it with me, close to my heart.

"Sing, barren woman, you who never bore a child;
burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor;
because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband," says the Lord. Isaiah 54:1

I know that God has given me a Mother's Heart, and he has blessed me with many children to love. But to be honest, it is still hard.

I try to 'Sing and shout for joy', and most days I do. But somedays, like today, all I can do is cling to the hope that I have, and cry.

Forgiveness and Freedom

(A continuation of Fear and Forgiveness)

Last night a group of ladies from my Life Group poured life into me through annointing and prayer.

They prayed for comfort and healing in my life. And they prayed for strength, because they knew, as did I, that I could not get through today without the strength that comes only through Christ.

Today I attended his funeral.

I stood with his family and friends. As the preacher phrased it, I stood among "Those who had been touched through his life."

I am sure that it was true; that each life there had somehow been affected by his. I prayed that among the crowd, that my story was unique. I hoped that the fun and charming man he was in public was also the man these people experienced behind closed doors.

The family welcomed me with open arms today. They were happy to see me, and happy to accept forgiveness on behalf of someone they loved.

Through words and stories they spoke of his salvation in the last years of his life, as well as the acceptance of death he knew was coming.

It caused a conflict in my soul to hear how great and wonderful this man was.

The man who taught me how to hate.

For a moment I almost surrendured to my instinct to just walk away, but it was in that moment that I was overwhelmed by peace, and God reminded me why I was there.

Forgiveness.

Long ago, after years of fighting him and running from him, I forgave him, and at that point the chains were loosed and I was set free.

Free from bitterness. Free from anger. Free from hate. And now, free from fear.

In that moment I decided not to step back into my chains.

So, today, I found the answers to questions. And, as much as I could hope, I found closure.

I continue to move along the path called Healing....

Fear and Forgiveness

A little over fifteen years ago I lived in a women's shelter.

I mentioned this time in my life briefly in A Mother's Heart, but the things that took my mom, sister, and I there are something I rarely talk about.

As I mentioned before, it was a shelter for abused women and children, a hideout for victims who had no one to protect them, and no place to feel safe.

The years leading up to this time we lived with an abusive man. My mom met him straight out of prison, and she was decieved by his charming ways. They were married almost immediately.

I hated him from the beginning. I am sure he is the only person I have ever really hated.

The abuse that happened over the next year and a half took many forms. Physical, emotional, and the worst of all, psychological.

Things that were done and said instilled fear in us that has remained until today.

Most of his adult life up to that point was lived between Vietnam and prison. We knew many of the horrible things he had done, but there were even more horrible things we didn't know. We knew all the ways he wanted to kill us, and there were times he almost did.

The following is taken from my journal and was written long ago:

"He would remind me that he could kill me with a jerk of the neck. He would grab me, and I would fight him. I would kick and bite and elbow the best I could. He liked that; that I would fight. I never got out of it. One time I almost escaped, and I would have if it wasn’t for my long ponytail. He grabbed it as I ran away. If I could have I would have cut it off in order to escape. Still, I would have come back and it would have been the same thing all over again, but I would have had that one time I got away.

When he got me in his grips, he did not do what one would expect in a typical abuse situation. He would hold my head with his hand, his other arm across the front of me like he was going to snap my neck. I am honestly surprised he never did. There was so much evil, I could see murder in his eyes, but for some reason, he let me live. God's plan for my life is the only way I can explain why he did not, in the midst of his insanity, kill me. Sometimes he would hold me there for 10 minutes, whispering words of death. Once he even grabbed a knife, and holding it to my neck suggested it may be more fun to slit my throat than snap it. When he let me go he would promise 'tonight.' Tonight, while I was sleeping, he would kill me then."

For a year and a half a woke up every morning wondering if that was the day he would kill me.

After 18 months my mom gathered the courage to tell him to leave. It was much easier said than done.

You see, we lived with him for less than two years, but the abuse continued long after.

The divorce began a fifteen year streak of restraining orders, self-defense classes, gripping fear to come home to an empty house, and moving constantly in attempt to stay one step ahead. He would break in and steal things, which would then end up in curious places months later. Once he sat right outside my bedroom window and smoked cigarette after cigarette while I slept, leaving the pile of cigarette buds as his sign that he had been there. He wanted us to know that he was there, and that he could have killed us. He would leave us notes and death threats. My mom would drive the car down the steep hill at one of the houses where we lived, and my sister and I would walk to the first stop sign before getting in, for fear that the breaks had been cut. Something as small as a call hang-up would turn our world up-side-down, because it was a sign that he had found us once again.

At one point, many years later, I made the decision that I would no longer live in fear. I stopped letting the fear control my life, but that does not mean I was not afraid.

Every time in the last fifteen years that I have come home to an empty house or walked across a dark parking lot, I have done so with fear. I have not let the fear stop me, and I have learned to cover it well, but it has been there.

In total it has been 17 years of fear. But today, for the first time in 17 years, I walked into an empty house without fear.

He will no longer threaten my family, because he died today.

When I first heard the news, I cried.

I had to stop and process and ask myself why I have tears for this man.

First, I know that they were tears of relief. After all these years of wondering if he would finally make true of his promise to kill me and my family, I know he never will. We have survived.

Second, I think I cried because I realized I would never find the closure I desired. I desired for him to one day send me a letter saying he was sorry. I desired that he would one day explain to me why he did what he did. And I desired that he would want my forgiveness. I also desired to tell him that I had forgiven him.

Lastly, I cried because I was sad.

Yes, this emotion was unexpected. How in the world could I possibly feel sadness for a man who had terrorized nearly my entire life?

I realized in that moment that I had truly and honestly forgiven him, and I was sad for him. It wasn't necessarily his death that made me sad, but his life. Somewhere deep down I truly desired for him to find salvation and healing.

Many years ago, not long after I wrote the words from the journal entry about him wanting to kill me, I wrote:

"It is easy for me to forget that he is human, because with that fact comes the reality that at some point he too has been a victim. I realized I know nothing about his childhood. I wonder when he forgot his goodness. I wonder if he was hugged or ever truly loved. I wonder about the first time he hated someone, if that was what devoured him. Hate can do horrible things to a person."

I believe I wrote that on the day I chose forgiveness over hate.

I find it hard to admit that he caused so much fear in my life. For years I have claimed the verse "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear." God is perfect love, and he is the breath that gives me life, so how could I, for 17 years, live with fear?

I don't know the answer to that. But I do know that today I am letting go of things I have been holding onto for so long. I do know that my heart is ready for healing. And I do know that today I will walk free of fear, and maybe in that freedom I will find the answers.

A Mother's Heart

I turned 13 living in a women's shelter.

It wasn't the ideal situation. Sharing a bedroom and bathroom with up to 11 other people. Not going to school. Living off the bare-pickings in the food pantry. Having nothing to my name but the clothes on my back and a few items from the donation closet.

It was a challenging time, but what most would assume to be a dark time in my life turned out to be anything but.

The circumstances that took us there (my mom, sister and I) were definitely dark. It was a protective shelter, for women and children escaping abusive situations. But God, in his true character, used that ugly situation and created something beautiful.

It was there, in that shelter, that God revealed in me a mother's heart.

My sister and I were the oldest children in the shelter. There were lots of little ones, and there were lots of mothers. Mothers who were beaten, broken, and tired. It was there, when the mothers escaped mentally and emotionally, and sometimes even physically, that God revealed part of his plan for me.

I loved those little ones with all of my heart, and I helped to care for them whenever I could. There, in a situation that I am sure the devil intended to tear me down, I was built up instead. Changing diapers, giving baths, tucking the little ones in at night, these things gave me joy.

Since that time, God has continued to grow in me a mother's heart. A heart to love, care for, encourage, disciple, and celebrate the lives of children. He has blessed me with jobs and relationships where I can do all these things.

But he has yet to bless me with my own child.

And that brings me to today, where I am faced with what could be another dark situation.

In September I started having shooting pains in my stomach. After testing, testing, and more testing, the doctors have, over the last 8 months, diagnosed me with a condition that is not life-threatening, but could, and will likely, effect my ability to have children.

I have been prayed for. Many people have laid their hands on me in prayers for healing. Every 4 weeks I have gone in for more testing, each time hanging on to the hope that the results will be different than the months before. Each time walking away disappointed.

This is not something I have shared with a lot of people. Strangers who have prayed for me know more than many of my dear friends. But a couple nights ago I was praying, and God reminded me how he has taken ugly situations in my life, and turned them into something beautiful. And then he challenged me. The question that swept over my heart was this: How are these things going to bring God glory if I don't share them?

So I am writing this to say that I have faith. God has placed in me a mother's heart, and He has a plan to use it for his glory.

I have faith that He can heal me. But I also have faith that His ways are higher than my ways.

I go in for more testing tomorrow.

Maybe this time I will be healed. Maybe not. Either way I continue to hold on to the truth that He has something greater planned for me than I could ever imagine. Either way, I will hold on to this truth, and I will not walk away disappointed.

Because, in this very moment, He is creating something beautiful.