The Story of Who I Am...

Today was a difficult, emotional day. Watching my family who I have come to know and love, the people who mean so very much to me go through something so emotional and tough, was hard. And grieving the pieces of that man I loved so dearly was hard. Loving someone is so worth it, but makes the "see you later"s so very hard. 

During the service today, people shared stories. Lovely stories and memories of a man who hooked into a lot of hearts. Stories of happier days when Clay was carefree and loving life. Stories from brothers and previous neighbors and people who knew and loved him.

Days like this make me think a bit deeper. Perhaps I am more morbid than others, but I paused at one point in the service and thought: What stories would people tell about me? What would people say? Have I had an impact on anyone like Clay has impacted so many? Have I changed a life for the better? Am I patient and loving and caring? Do I exude joy and happiness? Do I treat people nicely? Would people know that I am faithful and a Christian and that my main drive in life is to love and care for people as Jesus Christ loved and cared for others?

We all have stories to tell. We all have stories to be told about us. Part of my sadness and grief in the process of losing my husband was not getting those stories. Not hearing the good from Brian's life. Brian was such a good part of our community. He worked for the Washington State Patrol and then Cencom. He was a volunteer EMT and firefighter. He was a member of the Coast Guard Auxiliary. He was a HAM radio operator and donated a lot of his time to community events surrounding those areas. But the ending of his life was horrific and none of those valiant things mattered anymore. He was a child molester. He was evil and awful and sickening. Then he killed himself. Where his funeral should have filled the church, it was poorly attended, many of his law enforcement and fire department friends citing that they couldn't come and support this man given his poor choices in the ending of his life. Where there should have been stories about the great things he did for others, the volunteering he did, the people he helped, there were no stories shared. No one wanted to speak about him. He destroyed all of the good he did with one horrific decision. 

We all have stories. What would your stories be? Would people flock to the microphone to sing your praises? Would they tell family and friends what an amazing person you are? Would there be monologues on how kind and caring you were? Would people voice your faith in God and your willingness to share God's love with others?

I want that! I want to live a life that someday leads to an amazing, honorable eulogy. I want to be kind and loving and compassionate. I want people to be brought to Christ through the example I lead in my life. 

The good news? We serve a loving, forgiving Father who can turn around anyone's story. We serve a God who doesn't keep track of our past mistakes. Who loves us and cares for us and is only waiting for us to choose Him. Who knows what is in our hearts and wants us to live a life of serving and praising Him. 

It's too late for Brian. Brian ended it all and rather than giving himself a moment to redeem himself, to revise his story, to rewrite the chapters that were in the rough draft of his life. Even Brian's story could have been rewritten by our precious Lord and Savior. 

Your story could be rewritten also! Father God is a God of second chances. Even third, fourth, fifth chances! So, not happy with the prediction of what people would say about you? Change your story! Change your eulogy! Apologize to people you've hurt. Correct wrongs that need to be righted. Fix your eyes on Jesus and read your Bible. Follow His many examples of how life should be led and allow Him to carry you through your life to your ending. 

Clay's ending was amazing! He came to know Jesus as His Savior. He passed away into the arms of Jesus and is rejoicing with all of heaven right now this very second! And the stories people told about Clay reflected a man of God, even before He turned His life to Him! He was amazing! He just needed God to guide His heart down the path toward heaven, and the stories got even better!

Don't live this life that is way too short in a way that doesn't honor Father God! Love this life as His servant for others. Loving heart.  Prayerful soul. Peaceful mind. Love others with a passion for Christ. Live life so that your story is written how you want it to be written. 

What stories do you want people to  tell the world about you? What legacy do you want to leave? Think about this for a second, and ask Father God to help you find your way on that path! He wants to lead and guide you, to guard and protect you. He wants to help you write your story between now and the moment when you eternally rest in His arms in heaven. 

The story of who I am...who do I want to be? Who do I want to be known as? I want to be known as God's servant, a Daughter of the King, a witness for Him in everything I do. I'm asking God to help me write my story. Ask Him to help you write yours too!

I only hope that I am half as loved as Clay was in his all too short life on this planet. When I close my eyes, I can almost hear the heavenly concert resounding through the heavens, with the best drummer in the world pounding out a rhythm for his new angelic fans. Miss you, dad...thanks for letting me help write your story. It was the best one ever! ❤

What is Love?

1 Corinthians 13:13 - And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

My heart hurts. Like tearing out of my chest, bearing my soul, literal pain ripping through me hurts. Death is too much. One death of someone I love is too much. But just as I'm reeling from the loss and the changes of that whole dynamic, another loss announced today at work. My heart is searing as it is ripped in half.

Why do we have to go through this? Why do we get close enough to people that losing them hurts this badly. Why don't tears ever just run out? Why do we love?

It would be so much easier if we just navigated life without forming relationships. Endings are too painful so we should just walk through life and get our jobs done. Don't make attachments. Don't make connections. Don't make eye contact. Don't love. Love happens. And then something interrupts that whether it's change or flux or death. And then hearts break and grief happens and who wants all that?

If I had never met Clay, and my girls and I didn't fall in love with him we wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be sneaking out to my car trying to steal away quick moments of sobbing and then pulling myself together to get back to life. I wouldn't be holding Amelia while she sobbed about going to band and playing her drums. I wouldn't be holding Emerson's hair out of her face while she cried and threw up because she misses her Grandpa Clay so badly it's a visceral reaction for her. 

If I hadn't ever sat in classroom meetings with Kathy, seeing her kind heart and her drive for students and if she hadn't always come to me after meetings to whole-heartedly and sincerely thank me for walking her and her student's parents through a conversation I wouldn't have bawled in front of our Superintendent today as he told me she was gone. 

Why do we love? Why do we care about other? Why do we set ourselves up for pain and heartache? Because, my friends, it is worth the pain! I can't imagine not living with love in our lives. I can't imagine walking through life without relationships and people to love and hold. I wouldn't want to trade in the joy people bring into my life to avoid the pain of an ending. 

I grieved Brian's death. He did some terrible things and made bad choices, but I still grieved his death. And still do. But I still wouldn't trade in the four years we were married. I wouldn't wish to have never met him. The relationship that I had with that man helped to shape me into who I am today. He gave me two beautiful daughters and a brief marriage of love and happiness. I wouldn't trade that. 

Clay was a huge part of our lives in that he often dropped everything to help us. He doted on my two little girls and I will always remember how I would walk in for a visit and he would always say "Uh, where are the girls?" as he tried to peek around me to see if they were bounding in behind me. There are so many moments that I have tossed around in my head this last week, remembering the little things and the big things that made him wiggle his way into our hearts. I wouldn't trade any of that. 

Kathy was the kindest, gentlest soul. She so deeply cared about her students and their parents and her coworkers. She was filled with grace and peace and always was thinking about how to make her student's lives easier. She was such a powerful advocate for her students. I wouldn't trade that for anything. 

We have to love. Love makes life bearable. Love is what Father God gifted us! In the opening verse above he tells us out of faith, hope and love, love is the greatest! Faith is really important. That faith in Our Heavenly Father is what gets us a personal relationship with our Father. It's the driving force behind getting us to heaven! Hope gives us the strength to make it the next day. Hope gives us the belief that things will get better. And yet neither of these are as important as love. 

It is hard to love. Grief is a tough price to pay for love. The heartache and the pain. The tears and the sleepless night. The worry and the angst. The sadness and the feelings of despair. It's all so very uncomfortable. It's all so painful. It's all so...awful. But, the stronger the pain at the end, the more love you hold in your heart for that person. 

The deaths that have happened recently hurt so very badly. Because of love. So much love for these people. So much love, in fact, that we will learn to let them go and to be grateful for knowing them, and grateful that they are at peace. They are in heaven. They are completely and beautifully healed. And you know what? The love that they left us with will be enough to carry us through to heal also!  

It's tough right now and it hurts. Sometimes I can't breathe. Sometimes I want to pretend that it didn't happen. That it's not real. That my other dad is going to call to schedule a trip to the bowling alley with his girls. Or that Kathy will come to my office with her soft presence and ask me about one of her kids. But rather than that, I'm going to close my eyes, take a deep breath, and ask Father God to walk me through my grief and my tears and to remember the love they left behind. 

The greatest of these is love. I love you! You, reading this blog post, I love you! And Jesus loves you! And all together, we will fill the world with love and we will carry on. For Clay. For Kathy. For Brian. For all the loved ones we have lost. We will love. For that is the greatest thing of all.   

When You've Only Got 100 Years...

I'm a writer. Not professionally. I've never had anything published. I won essay contests often in elementary and right up through high school, but other than that my writing is for me. And others. I've been led to write often for others. Tonight, I'm writing for me, but hoping to strike a chord with others too. That, I think, is the goal for most of my blog posts. They are ramblings for myself, with the hope that they will find a target audience that they may help through something. To know that my story isn't over and I can use my journey to help others on theirs. 

If you read my last blog post, you know that I lost a dear, sweet man in my life. Clay Maxim was my other dad. My girls' sweet Grandpa Clay. We hadn't known Clay for as long as many of the people I met over the last few days have known Clay. Clay was a byproduct of knowing Melody. Melody came first. And I won't ever forget my first twinge of admiration for this man I had never met. I was going through my journey with Brian and Melody sent me an email, asking how I was doing as she often did. I replied with my answer and she replied back to me with love and this statement (I remember like I was just reading it yesterday): "Even the unknown dad Clay asks about you and the girls often and sends his love." I was astonished. This man not only allowed me to saturate his wife's time and took her away from her family often to help me through various events, but he also cared about me and took me in as his own daughter without even knowing me. Hadn't even met me yet. He was concerned and cared. I was instantly loved by this man. 

We finally met him, and my girls immediately fell in love with him. He taught them how to play Gray Wolf in the Christmas trees. He placed then tiny Amelia on his lap in front of his amazing drum setup and handed her the drumsticks, igniting her love of the percussion instrument that she now plays in beginning band. He took them on dates to the bowling alley where he taught them to bowl for their very first time. He called and scheduled meet-ups with them at Chuck E. Cheese's where he showed them how to throw a curve ball to score the most points in skee ball.  He played with them. He listened to them. He called them to talk about wiggly teeth or new drumsticks. They would call and ask for help with something and he would run right over with his tools to tighten the cymbal on Amelia's drum set. Or give Emerson advice on drinking through a straw with a missing tooth. They loved him so very much. And he loved them right back. 

And then all he did for me. He was always right there with anything I needed. Not hesitating to offer to help, even if I was just chatting about something. He teased and would flash his cheeky grin. He also just scooped me up and loved me. One day I needed to get away so I drove to Melody's house, thinking no one would be there. I parked my truck and got out and sat on her beautiful porch and sobbed and sobbed. I heard my name and turned and Clay was standing in the porch door, with a worried look on his face. He walked over and pulled me up and put his arms around me. Told me everything would be ok. And then took me in and we watched old band videos and chatted the afternoon away. He genuinely cared. He treated me as if I were just a part of his family. Just another daughter. And I know he had many daughters and sons that he just took in. He loved so many people and they loved him right back. 

I miss him. I miss him with every fiber of my being. I know that he is no longer suffering. That he has been scooped up himself and taken into the arms of Jesus. He doesn't have Parkinson's. He doesn't have a tumor. He doesn't have tremors and pains in his legs or his feet. His language is intact. His vision is perfect. He's playing the drums and teasing all the angels up in heaven. He is healed! The tumor is gone and he is whole and sitting at the feet of Jesus. 

That was probably my most favorite part of his whole journey - watching him change in his views about God and his faith. Back in October we had a conversation about God when he was first diagnosed with the tumor. God worked on Clay's heart from that moment on and he accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior after a while. He was baptized and welcomed Jesus into his heart. He was a changed man, marked by our Heavenly Father. On a journey and a mission for God. And his message of faith and love and hope and peace is a message that we hope spreads far and wide. He grew stronger everyday. I thought this would be physically when we were gifted that phrase, but it was spiritually. And the stronger he grew spiritually, the closer he moved to being with his Savior in glory! 

In my selfish thinking, it was too soon to lose him. I wasn't ready. I know his family and friends weren't ready. We didn't get enough time with him! There were still games to play and smiles to share and nicknames to bestow. But Clay was ready. He was firmly planted in his faith and he was ready to go and join his Savior in heaven. He was brought complete, beautiful healing! He is whole and beautiful and waiting for his family and friends, and even strangers that may hear his testimony and come to the peaceful arms of Jesus. He is waiting to welcome each of us as we walk into the gates of heaven and join him in eternal glory. 

There wasn't enough time. One hundred years wouldn't have been enough time though. To know Clay was to love him. He had an amazing personality, a joking spirit, and beautiful soul. He brought light and life to all those who interacted with him. He was fun and silly and goofy. He was the best. I miss him so very much. My heart is broken. I know that the same God that has healed Clay will also heal our broken hearts. And I will for sure be anticipating the reunion with him in heaven! 

Clay is healed! The tumor is gone! Amen and amen!

Matthew 11:28 Come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. 

Jeremiah 30:17 But I will  restore you to health and heal your wounds declares the Lord. 

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Today has sucked. Actually, to be more specific the last few days have sucked. Or if I'm being completely honest, it's been months of suckiness. People I love are hurting. People that God has gifted into my life are going through something that I can't fix, that I can't change. People I love are struggling and I can only sit by their sides, hold their hands, and pray.

But, what good is prayer? THIS isn't what I prayed for! I didn't pray to lose a very important man in my life. I didn't pray for him to die! I didn't pray for him to slip through our fingers just when things were hopeful and looking forward. This isn't what I prayed for at all.

And weaving in and out of gratefulness and faithfulness with anger and frustration has made today exhausting. When really I should have just been letting go and letting God. BUT, He must not know what I meant! He must have misunderstood! I should have been more specific with my prayers. I didn't pray fervently enough. I didn't pray every day. I should have spelled things out better in what I was asking.

And then, in the middle of all of that angst and heartache, the most beautiful three-band rainbow stretched across the sky. Every color of the spectrum was there for three whole cycles, one on top of the other. And I'll admit I was angry. As a little girl in parochial school, we were always taught that rainbows were symbols of God's promises to us. The first rainbow that was painted across the sky came with the promise that God would never send another flood to destroy the earth again. A rainbow?! How dare He paint a rainbow across the sky in front of the large picture glass windows of the hospital room. How dare He! He promised us healing. He promised us wholeness. He promised us that if we walked in faith with Him, He would answer our prayers. This wasn't answering our prayers. Huddled over a hospital bed looking lovingly and longingly at a man that so many of us love is not where this was supposed to go! The promise was healing. No more tumor. No more Parkinson's. No more pain and suffering. What we were getting wasn't worthy of a promise rainbow.

And then God lovingly pushed into my angry heart and whispered "three bands." Three levels of achievement for Clay. The first band, symbolic of Clay's former self without knowing Christ. The second band, symbolic of Clay's current life riddled with pain and agony, but oh so faithful in our Heavenly Father. The third band, symbolic of Clay's most blessed life to come: triumphant living cradled in the arms of our Lord and Savior, free from pain and Parkinson's and tumors. Whole and healed. Beautiful healing, just as we have been asking for. This is the ultimate goal for all of us, for all Christians. Beautiful healing, whole bodies, a triumphant journey to heaven. Thank you, Father God, for allowing us to lead Clay through that journey. Thank you, Father God, for leading Clay to profess his faith, get baptized, partake in the Lord's Supper, and to await for Our Lord and Savior to carry Him home to reign eternal with Jesus on the Heavenly realms.

And with a calm heart, and a soul strong in the Lord, and with my bestie and prayer partner by my side, and all of Clay's family and friends rallying around him, I confidently declare: THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT WE PRAYED FOR! A beautiful, perfect life in heaven with Jesus. And in reality, this is exactly what we should be praying for for all of us. For Clay. For Melody. For Kathy. For Steve. For Kristi and Dale. For all of the people who have walked through the doors to Clay's room today to share their love and humble admiration. Spending eternity in heaven with a whole, healed, perfect body should be exactly what each and every one of us is praying for every day!

There is no doubt that we will miss Clay. We were not ready for it to be over this quickly. We were not prepared to be in this hospital room right now. My heart breaks and tears flow openly and freely as I try to envision a life without my other dad, a life without Grandpa Clay. Clay was so pivotal in so many lives. His passing will leave many holes in so many hearts.

But we cannot dwell there! We have to have faith and trust that this is part of God's plan! God has had us on a journey for sure! He has walked Clay through this life, each and every step orchestrated by God's divine conducting. Playing the drums. Meeting Melody and Kristi. Having Dale. Getting his diagnosis of Parkinson's. Working in loss prevention. Each and every friend that walked through Clay's life was supposed to walk through. They needed a Clay and Clay needed them. Even his tumor diagnosis. Looking back on the journey that is Clay's life, each and every one of those events shaped and molded him into the person he is today! A believer in Jesus who is fully seated in God's righteous hand! A man who is secure in his faith and is getting ready to prepare to begin the last and final glorious leg of his journey - the road to eternal peace!

So, anger at this morning's rainbow has led to this tear-stained blog post. This seems like an ending to us, but it's just the beginning for Clay! And my prayer is exactly for what Clay is experiencing right now in this moment - the transition to whole, complete, beautiful healing! No more anger at rainbows from me! When I see a rainbow from now on, I will see Clay, remember what an influence he had on my life and the lives of my girls, and smile knowing that he is looking down on all of us with his big, goofy grin. The promise in the sky. God's promise in the sky. The tumor is gone. Dad is healed. Amen and amen.

The Thunder Rolls...

I have always loved and been fascinated by weather.  Twister is one of my favorite movies.  I love watching documentaries on tornados and hurricanes.  I love images of lightning storms or clouds or the sunshine.  Some of my fondest memories across the span of my lifetime have to do with weather.  Laying on the trampoline with my sister and our friends staring up at the sky and watching the clouds go by.  Hearing the start of a hailstorm and grabbing my sister's hand and running to the lean-to with the aluminum roof to lay on the woodpile and listen to the hailstones banging on the metal roof.  My husband and I would make rum and cokes and grab lawn chairs and a blanket and snuggle on the back porch, just under the eaves, and watch thunderstorms together, my heart skipping a beat with each flash of lightning, the echoes of the thunder ringing across the sky all around us.  Sitting on the couch with little girls in my lap, watching giant snowflakes fall and accumulate on the back deck, a similar picture from when I was a little girl, sitting on the couch with my mama and watching the snow fall in the light of the large yard light.

There was a time period recently where I think I lost touch with my love of the weather.  I had other, more important things passing by in my life, and I just didn't notice things much.  But, as I have grown in my faith and in my relationship with my Heavenly Father, all of the beauty of nature has started to spring anew once again.  I often find myself staring heavenward, looking at the amazing cloud formations.  I stop and take pictures of the gorgeous sunrises that happen to peak over the tree line to the east of my home.  I more deeply feel the warmth of the sunshine on sunshine-y days.  I treasure the rainbow that arch their way across the skies.  God's creation is incredible, and such a wonderful reminder of His power and His love for us.

I snapped the picture that is posted with this blog post while I was sitting at the Silverdale Waterfront.  I often go there to sit and think and pray and just be still, catching my breath for just a moment in this busy life.  I often meet my friend and prayer partner there and get to share the beauty of that place with someone I hold dear.  Not to give away a secret treasure, but it is a beautiful setting in its own right.  An almost 360 degree view of water and mountains, trees, and big, open skies.  My heart is filled with peace and hope and love as I sit and watch my surroundings, and my faith is immersed in the beauty that is God's creation.  This particular day, it was stormy.  As I sat in my truck, eating a quick lunch between errands, the wind was buffeting my sturdy truck.  The waves of the Inlet were crashing into the dock and onto the shore.  And in a short time, there was a pounding rain that came flowing across the water straight onto my parking spot.  The rain didn't really do much for my visibility of the water, but as I sat in my truck, I laid my head back and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of the beating rain on the roof of my truck.  My heart was still and calm, listening for the messages that I often find in the weather.  Suddenly, I opened my eyes and through the rain, there was a blinding light reflecting off of the water.  I leaned forward and there, right in front of my truck in the water close to shore, a blue sky opening.  Sun beams were streaming down out of the sky, and reflecting off of the water, filing my truck with warmth and joy.  I leaned closer to my steering wheel and looked straight up, and it was like a tube running from the sky to the water below.  Sunlight streaming, parting through the torrential rains that were all around.  I grabbed my cell phone, and aiming it skyward, snapping the picture posted with this blog.  And as my phone captured the sunshine through the storm clouds, the clouds swallowed up the blue skies and the beams were gone.

I sat there in awe, staring at the picture on my phone, wondering that had just really happened.  And then, the message in the mess flowed into my heart and into my ears, and I knew exactly what Father God was trying to share with me.  We all have storms.  We all have stuff that we carry.  We are all going through our own journeys filled with torrential rain and buffeting winds.  Dark clouds threaten to swallow us whole and wipe out every glimmer of sunshine and light that we so desperately need.  The clouds form around us, choking the life right out of us as we struggle with walk, or even stand, in the storm.  We fear that we may blow away, sink beneath the waves, be enveloped by swirling and twirling of the confusion of the storms all around us.  We feel alone and scared and desperate, waiting for the sunshine to return quickly. 

This event that I witnessed?  A message from our Heavenly Father.  We are not alone.  He does not abandon us in the storms of life.  He is right there, just beneath the surface, waiting for us to cry to Him for help and admit that we cannot navigate through the storms on our own.  All we need to do is muster enough strength to call out, "Father, help me!" and He will be there, parting the clouds, clearing the rain, calming the winds, showing you that there is still light and good and calm skies, but most importantly, that He is there beneath it all, waiting for us to realize that we cannot do the storms on our own.

I love weather!  But, I also realize the power and the strength that weather can show.  And I am getting much better at realizing that I cannot navigate the weather without my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  I need Him guiding and guarding and protecting me always, through the literal storms, and the figurative storms that plague my life.  There will always be another weather pattern coming on the horizon.  It's up to you to decide if you are going to fear the weather, and try to make your own plan for getting through or surviving, or if you are going to admire that power and beauty of the weather, and know that you need someone far greater than yourself to help walk you through the storms in life.  I know what I am choosing.  I will continue to admire the clouds, snap pictures of the storms and the sunshine, watching thunderstorms with joyful anticipation, and watch Twister for the 5,000th time.  Because I have grown so much in my faith and my trust in Father God, that I am not afraid of the storms.  I know that He is right there beside me in them, walking me through, shielding me from the dangers, sheltering me from the pelting rain.  Am I perfect in this?  No.  I forget that sometimes the storms of life are overwhelming, and it just all feels like too much.   Friends that are ill.  People in pain.  Strangers hurting on the street corner.  It's hard to witness this and sometimes understand that He has a plan.  That He is in control of this weather.  But, I strive everyday to simply Be Still, and Know that He is God!  And with His help and His word, I will continue to grow and flourish in my faith so that one day, I will be able to deflect the nastiness of the storms all around and just know that He has it all under control.  It is in His hands, and I am simply to trust in Him and admire the beauty in the storms.

Jeremiah 10:13 says, "When HE utters His voice, there is a tumult of waters in the heavens, And He causes the clouds to ascend from the end of the earth; He makes lightning for the rain, And brings out the wind from His storehouses."  He is in control of it all.  Every storm in our lives, He is in control of.  He uses our storms to push us and to grow us and to make us uncomfortable, so that we run to Him for the shelter that He provides.  So we come to trust in His every move.  So we rely on Him for protection. 

I am thankful for the beauty in the storms, and for the Father that loves and protects me through them all.  Thank you, Father!

Amen!

Second Verse, Same as the First...

Albert Einstein defined insanity as "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."  I must be insane...

How many years have I tried to lose weight?  How many times have I sworn to eat healthy and exercise and finally get down to a healthy BMI?  How many programs have I tried and fad diets and exercise apps and new shoes and high tech workout clothes.  New treadmill?  Medal motivation?  When I look back to just one year ago, I had already finished a 5K...the Seahawks 5K.  I was feeling so good.  So proud.  So energetic and so eager to take it to the end.  FINALLY I had figured out the right combination for me to be successful.  I carried my New Years Resolution to run and complete my 5K and 10K apps from January all the way through November 5th.  And then, I broke my foot.

I tried hard to fight the sadness and depression...the wanting nothing but to eat myself into oblivion.  I fought the sadness of not being able to run.  In fact, I maybe overdid it a lot of the time after I broke my foot, pushing myself to move and keep going even with a broken foot.  Pushing a walker all over the streets of Seattle, hopping from room to room, not wanting to slow down enough to settle because who was I without running and exercising.  I don't think anyone knew that I was down and depressed.  That I wasn't sure what I was going to do with myself.  That each night I would cry in pain and in fear and in uncertainty of not knowing how I was going to be OK.  If I didn't have anything to drive me forward, how was I going to keep losing weight and keep being successful.

Well, I haven't been eating the best lately, and I find myself on the end of a splurge that has finally said "ENOUGH!"  My clothes are fitting tighter.  I'm winded walking up stairs and through hallways.  My back and my head and my joints are killing me.  I let myself go too far.  The difference?  I have caught myself before I gained too much of it back.  But, there's something more to this journey.  There's something missing from the walking and the WeightWatchers and the life style changes.  What's missing?  In my prayers and petitions to Father God, I have come to realize that there is a piece of me that needs healing. There is a piece of me that cannot keep the success going.  There's a piece of me that gets down to a certain weight, and the brakes come on, and the eating starts, and the not caring picks right back up where it left off.  There is a huge piece of me that I need to turn over the God and ask for Him to lead me through. 

I can have every minute of every day planned down to the second.  I can have the best meal plans, and the best food in the house.  I can have top of the line tennis shoes and state of the art equipment.  I can have the best apps money can buy and all the motivation in the world.  But that right there is the problem.  I work very hard to plan and try and make everything work out ok.  But, time and time again, I have been unsuccessful.  Breaking my foot was a convenient excuse.  I would have hit a wall and had a hard time even if my foot hadn't fractured that night in November.  I remember sitting on the table in the Emergency Room when a wave of relief hit me.  I could stop running...and then the fear that came right after that relief.  I had to stop running.  I had immersed my identity in this process, this journey.  I had become a runner, obsessed with the next goal, the next finish line, the next segment on my app telling me what to do.  I was burying my emotions and my guilt and my pain and my fear into the rhythmic beat of my feet on a treadmill.  I used that time to talk to God, so I don't consider it a waste at all, but it was superficial conversations.  It was avoidance of things that are deep within my soul.  It was running and problem-solving issues that aren't mine to solve. 

So, fatter and tired-er and sore-er, I am starting anew.  Insanity - doing the same thing over and over again.  Except this time, I'm not insane.  And I'm not crazy.  And I'm not avoiding anything.  I messaged my bestie about my realization a few days ago - I need healing!  I need to give this piece of my life to God. So much of my journey has been about healing and reinventing who I am in my Heavenly Father's eyes and reinventing who I want to be.  I am so much stronger and wiser and I am filled with peace and love and hope and faith!  But I need to give this last piece of my life, this last piece of insanity to HIM!

I'm starting again with the WeightWatchers and the running, although walking first and then when I get clearance from my surgeon, perhaps the running will commence again.  But, I am not taking the route of insanity!  I'm taking the route where I give this part of my heart and my soul to God, and He is going to walk me through.  He is going to heal this part of me.  He is going to take my hand, and gently walk me through the pain and the heartache and the insanity that I keep tucked away inside, that helps when the Tammy I have always known just stays fat and unhealthy.  So, back to step one, where I plan out everything, and then sigh a big sigh of relief as I realized that it isn't mine to stress about.  I'm giving it to my Father to take on and He will walk me through the weight loss journey.

This Easter week, as I walk through the week and think about the events that led from Jesus's triumphant entry into Jerusalem, and will eventually lead to my Lord and Savior hanging on a tree, I think about insanity.  I think about the simplicity of just turning it over to Him!  How freeing!  How healing!  How amazing to be able to pause in the madness and take a deep breath and feel alive once again!

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

Free indeed!  Free at last!  Jesus went to the cross and set me free!  I need to only hand it over to him for complete, amazing freedom!  The Son has set me free!  And with help from Him through prayers and praise, I will be free indeed!

Amen!

The Beautiful Hand of God

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. From the time before Adam and Eve, the time in those early first few days when God began the creation, He knew there was a spot for me on this earth. He knew that there was a path, and a plan, and that He was going to walk me through that path and plan, step by step, one foot in front of the other. He knew that there would be days when I wouldn’t be able to walk the path, and that He would have to gift me family and friends to bolster me up and walk the path with me. He knew that there would be days where He would have to carry me, sobbing and a wreck on His shoulder. He knew there would be days where I would turn my back to Him, not even acknowledging that He was there, not even wanting to turn to Him because of anger and hate and frustration.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. He gifted me with a family who loved me and raised me right. Taught me to love, honor, and respect others. Taught me resilience that I would need for the road ahead. Taught me to love deeply and fiercely. Taught me that safe havens do exist. Gifted me with the sister that He knew I would need throughout my life, in childhood and into adulthood also. Gifted me to live in a great town in a great state. A wonderful home on a farm smack dab in the middle of all of my relatives. A place that I could run through the pasture and not worry about where I was playing. A place with animals and chickens and gardens. A place where I could sink my bare toes into the rich soil and wiggle them as I ran through the rows of corn and green beans. A place where I could run down to the pond to see the baby ducks. A place where my childhood pet was our cow, Sally. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. I was placed in a German-language preschool where I learned about where my father’s roots were. I learned to love the harsh sounds of the language. I learned about German culture and German food. Lessons I still remember and cherish to this day. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. I was placed at Woodlands Elementary school, where the boy on the playground pulled my panties down as I was crossing the monkey bars in my first week there. Everyone laughed and pointed and stared. It still brings stinging tears to my eyes as I think about how embarrassed I was. I walked home that day, not wanting to tell my mom, but I burst into tears as soon as I saw her. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe because after that incident, my mom pulled me out of Woodlands and we went and toured Peace Lutheran School. They were

so nice, and so welcoming. I still remember Mr. Lynch running to the playground to lift me gently off of the bar that I was stuck on while he talked to my mom. And I still remember the sound of Mrs. Lynch’s laugh. How she invited the pastor to bring his German Shepherd in to visit our classroom some days. And how much I loved going to school there. How God placed another teacher, Mrs. Jones, on the playground at the same time we had recess. And how Mrs. Jones would love on me and hug me and tell me how much I would love church. And that I should tell my parents to bring me to church. So I would go home and tell my parents that we needed to go to church. And eventually, we did. And we are still members at that church. I got the best education I could have at Peace. I left 8th grade at Peace doing high school level work and it helped propel me to greatness throughout high school and beyond. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. Junior High for one year at Fairview was a terrifying experience for a girl who had been in a class of 8 for her entire elementary career. But that first day, I read my schedule wrong and accidentally ended up in the locker room thinking it was time for P.E. When I asked Ms. Morey, the P.E. teacher about it, she asked me if I was trying out for volleyball. I had played at Peace and wanted to try out, but didn’t know that tryouts were that afternoon. If I hadn’t talked to her I might have missed them. I made the team, and I found a ready-made group of friends to help me with that transition to a big school. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. As I started high school, I knew that I wanted to be a doctor. So, I studied hard, took a lot of science classes, volunteered at the hospital, and chatted often with Dr. Reimer, my pediatrician. I knew that I needed to work hard to get into college and have good grades for scholarships. Each semester, I was placed into classes with the best teachers, and the best students. I walked through each year of my high school career with confidence, and pride, knowing that medical school is eventually where I was going to land. I graduated 7th in my class of 410 with a 3.998 GPA and high SAT scores. Olympic High School and the teachers in that building helped me grow up and they prepared me for college. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. As graduation from high school was approaching and I was figuring out where I was going to continue my education, I had it narrowed down to two choices. My first choice was the University of Puget Sound. It was a small school close to home. It had a pre-med program and we excitedly scheduled a tour. As we were walking on the tour, the guide asked about my grades and my SAT scores. I proudly shared with him what they were. We walked back to the admissions office and sat down, where he informed me that my grades and SAT scores were not high enough to qualify for any scholarships through them. I was crushed. My parents and I could not afford private school tuition. I cried almost the whole way home, and felt devastated as I knew that I would be going to my second-choice school, the University of Washington. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. Once I started school at UW, it was amazing! I loved it! I loved the campus. I loved the dorms. I loved my classes. I loved that I was a quick bus ride from downtown. I was still close enough to home that I went home on the weekends and still had my independence during the week. I was registered for all of the pre-med classes and had my plan worked out through my senior year and medical school. Three quarters of calculus. Three quarters of physics. Three quarters of biology. And six quarters of chemistry. All the other classes and requirements that I needed mixed in at their appropriate times. I was doing well, working through the sciences. I was volunteering a ton of hours at UW Medical Center and sitting with young cancer patients at Children’s Hospital. I would take my books and sit in their rooms with them and study while they slept, and their parents got some time away to do things. I played video games and laughed and cried with them. I watched kids come and some kids go home. Some kids didn’t get to go home. And then I realized that I wanted to be a pediatric oncologist. I wanted to help these kids. I threw myself even more into my studies so that there would be no doubt that I would get into medical school. This was my passion. My drive. My heart soared when I walked through the doors to the area hospitals. I knew I belonged there. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. At the end of winter quarter of my sophomore year, instead of studying for my organic chemistry final, I went to a party. I didn’t really want to, but my friend asked me to go with her, so I did. By the end of the evening, I was walking alone across campus with a bloodied head, bruised hands, tears streaming down my face, and the memories of my very own rape story that I never wanted to have coursing through my brain. I went home and showered forever, got dressed, and walked back across campus to start my third quarter organic chemistry final. I took it, with a head injury, searing pain in my skull, tears welling in my eyes, and the vivid memories of what had just happened the night before. One week later, I checked the wall to see my score. I failed the exam. I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t even really remember going to take the exam. Ashamed and not sure what to tell my parents, I made up a story about how I cheated on the exam and they gave me an F as my punishment for cheating. I couldn’t bear to let my mom know how irresponsible I had been. I was hurt and traumatized and buried it all so I would never have to think about it again. No one had to know. I was safe. I had survived. Everything was fine. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. The failure of that assessment knocked me out of the running for medical school in my mind. There was no way that I was going to get into med school with that grade in chemistry. So, with tears streaming down my face, I took the list of the major programs at the University of Washington determined to find where I was now going to fit into this world. With a pen I slowly crossed out the ones that I had no interest in, the ones that sounded stupid, the ones that I’d never get a job with. The only major that was left on my list was speech and hearing sciences. I walked down to Eagleson Hall and went and spoke to the admissions guy. I picked up a major application and filled it out. I was accepted and began my course to earn my Bachelor of Science degree in Speech and Hearing Sciences. I loved my classes and my professors and I felt like I had found what I was supposed to be. I had always wanted to be a teacher when I was younger and a doctor in my teenage years. This career seemed to be the best of both worlds. I could diagnose my patients and my students with speech and language disorders and do the teaching part too during therapy sessions. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. Knowing that I needed a graduate degree to be a speech therapist, I applied to seven graduate schools, hoping I would get into one. The competitive field of speech therapy meant lots of applicants for very few spots. I turned in applications at the University of Redlands in California, University of Hawaii, Western Washington University, Eastern Washington University, University of Portland, Idaho State University, and the University of Washington. I got into all of them except for the University of Portland (which was my “fallback” school AND the very first letter I received – panic ensued.) and the University of Washington where I was waitlisted. University of Redlands pursued me hard and was offering me tuition scholarships and room and board scholarships. I was just about ready to sign the documents and accept their offer of enrollment, when the Dean of Admissions at UW called to tell me that I was off of the waitlist and had just been accepted into the 2nd-ranked SLP program in the nation. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. I started graduate school with classes and started seeing clients. Every quarter the staff would meet as a whole and would grade each student with either a 1 or a 0 based on their performance in both classes and then with writing reports and seeing clients. For the first three quarters, I was graded a 0. I had the same advisor for all of the clients that I saw that first year, and she was the one that swayed the committee to give me a zero. When she called me in to talk to me about why, she told me that I wasn’t bubbly enough and that I wasn’t fit to work with children. She told me that if I got one more zero grade that I would be kicked out of the program. I didn’t change anything about who I was. I kept moving forward and doing the best that I could. I never got another zero score and I excelled in my classes and with my clients. I passed the comprehensive examination and was eventually awarded my Masters of Science Degree in the area of Speech-Language Pathology. During my last quarter of the program, I was accepted into an internship position with Central Kitsap School District and completed that. After graduation, CK asked if I would interview for a position in their school district. I also interviewed for a position with the Pasco School District. They were throwing money my direction and were begging me to come and work for them. I hadn’t heard from Central Kitsap School District for a few weeks after the interview and assumed I didn’t get the job. I told Pasco that I would come and visit the district before making my decision. The next day, CK called and offered me that job. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. I moved back in with my parents, bought my truck and started my new job. Life was good. I loved my schools and my coworkers. I worked with the best special education team in the district. We helped so many kids. I did my job and went home. I had good friends and we got together often. Life was good. The only thing I was missing was a boyfriend or a husband. I dated off and on, people that others would recommend for me. Wasn’t too interested. Then a friend convinced me to try online dating. I signed up for match.com and went on a lot of dates, ranging from a super fun day at the Seahawks game and Chinese food afterwards to a man flying out to meet me and ending up in tears on my parents’ kitchen floor because I told him I just wasn’t interested. After that last incident, I closed my account and decided that I was done! No more! A couple months later, I had a friend tell me to try the online thing again. She would pay for one month and if I didn’t find anyone I liked, I could be done and shut it down. My first contact was with a dispatcher from Wenatchee. Brian and I talked for a little bit online, had our first meet up two months later in April. He moved to Bremerton in June, proposed to me in July and we were married the following August. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. I got pregnant right away with Amelia, our first daughter. She was perfect. After a while and many at-home behavior problems later, she was diagnosed with food allergies at one year old, and then sensory processing disorder at eighteen months. I was distraught and not sure what to do when someone suggested calling Harbor Children’s Therapy. There was one spot left on the list. She went to therapy for a year and made great progress so we were dismissed from therapy. After much worry and angst, we decided to try to get pregnant again and almost exactly three years after Amelia, Emerson was born. She was also perfect. Our family was complete! The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. Six months after Emerson was born, my husband came home after work one day to tell me that he had molested his 15-year-old niece. He was kicked out of the fire department, fired from his job with Cencom as a fire and police dispatcher, I kicked him out of our house, and he was eventually arrested and charged with two felonies. Life as we knew it was thrown into chaos and we had to adapt and change quickly. Life before was filled with busy days and diapers, dinner and bath time, happiness and laughter. Life after was filled with interviews by CPS agents, investigations and pictures being taken throughout our house. Running to family and friends for shelter and safety, and secrets flying all over the place. We were all left reeling, and as if it couldn’t get any worse, Brian chose to kill himself eighteen days from the day he told me what he had done. My husband, who I had fallen in love with, made two babies with, and shared life with, lit a portable gas grill inside his car, and died on a forest service road up in Sequim. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. My physical and mental health deteriorated. I had pain and aches and headaches. I was anxious and depressed, but wouldn’t admit that openly to anyone, and wouldn't talk to a doctor about any of it because I wasn’t going to be diagnosed with “those things”. I was reliving my unresolved assault from all those years ago. I was thrown into nightmares and night terrors. I was nauseous and so medicated that I didn’t know where I was, or even who I was some days. I was blessed with family and also friends who are more like family and we navigated through neurologists and hospitals, rheumatologists and endocrinologists, cardiologists and allergists, specialist after specialist. When finally I made it to a very smart neurologist at Swedish Medical Center who diagnosed me with seizures. He put me on medication, told me to get counseling, and sent me on my way. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. Much of the next couple years are a blur. I was still not feeling well, but getting better every day. I was getting stronger. But I still felt so tormented. So conflicted. I wasn’t living. I was existing. I heard voices. I saw shadows. I convinced myself that I was insane. I had two therapists diagnose me with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was in denial. Surely I didn’t have that label, any label. I was just tired. Or just sick. Or maybe just sick and tired. I wandered through life like a zombie, my friends and families prompting me where to go and what to do and how to act and what to say. My girls grew up super-fast, and with the help of those same family and friends, we took one step at a time, and wandered through life that way for a while. The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. One day, my friend had had enough and she reached out for help. Our world was suddenly filled with books and articles. Phrases such as deliverance and demons and prayer and the armor of God swirled in and out of our vocabulary. We began to explore our faith and our friendship and realized that we were destined for more in this lifetime. We began actively praying together and fighting these demons that were torturing and tormenting us and our families with our prayers and our declarations from God. We became stronger and more sure of ourselves in faith. We wielded the weapons of God and marched forward as members of God’s army. Life started happening again. I was living. My girls were living. I was invested in my life and what happened in it. I was not merely existing. I was living! I was living for God! I was serving Him, and praying and lamenting and reading scripture and throwing myself deeper and deeper into my faith. I was exploring things about religion and faith that I had never even heard of before. With the help of God, and my dear friend and prayer partner, I was taking back my life and the life of my girls. We were walking forwards as His daughters. I had never been more sure of anything in my entire life than I was about where God was leading us to go. His plan for us is amazing. He reached down and He scooped us out of the pit of muck and mire. He washed us off and has lead us to where we are today! The beautiful hand of God was in this situation.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. This is a summary of my life story. Looking back over the span of my life, God’s beautiful hands were covering us in all of these situations. The good and the bad. Each step that we take in our days is orchestrated by the Holy One, our Lord and Savior. He knows what is going to happen to us each and every step of the way, and He holds us in the palm of His hands. Some people question where God is in the bad moments. I don’t question that one bit. Look back over the twists and turns in my life! He was there, for each one. Sure I was assaulted. But I wasn’t killed! Yes, my life fell apart in the blink of an eye it seemed like, but it was all such a blessing in the end! He wasn’t hurting my daughter anymore. She was free of him and the torment that he put her through. Yes there were many twists and turns in my life. At any of those junctures I could have turned left or right and I would be living a completely different life. And when you go back further and think about generational twists and turns that have happened, you have to believe that there is some Grand Conductor, making everything flow the way that it is supposed to. My dad was born in Germany. My mom was born in Bremerton. Yet they found each other out of the billions of other people in the world. All of the choices that I made in my life are like living out a real-life choose your own adventure book. The crossroads that we are brought to set the course for the rest of our lives. But, I am so very thankful that I have a Mighty God that gave me the free will to make my own decisions, but also gave me the tools of His Word and prayer to help guide my path and my journey. And in those moments that I maybe didn’t make the right choice, and it led me to a less-than-favorable situation, He was there to pick me up, dust me off, and set me back on the course that He has planned for me. The beautiful hand of God was in all of these situations.

I wasn’t just randomly dropped into some place in the universe. I am eternally grateful for the course my life has taken, the good and the bad. Each step is a blessing. Each day we are given is a blessing. And each scenario is a choice. You get to choose where you go, but you also get to choose how you react in each situation. These situations can make or break you. For a while, I let them break me. I was broken and I didn’t know how to fix myself. Ah, but that, my friends, is the key. You can’t fix yourself. You have to let God fix you. He gets to be the one to fix you. He is the one that you can turn to when your path just isn’t going the way you think it is supposed to. I guarantee you that as you think you are floundering and being buried under the yuck, God already has a plan for deliverance and assistance for you. He is there to help you through, the good and the bad, and he knows what He wants for you out of this life. Keep walking one step in front of the other, and it is so much easier, and your future is so much brighter if you just stick with Him. He’ll guide you through. He’ll be there for you. The beautiful hand of God is in all situations.

Amen!