Moving On

When I first started this blog I was fractured. I had divided myself into parts so I could choose who received which part. There were too many people who weren't safe to offer my whole self to.  Especially my spiritual self.  That I protected most fiercely.

As I've healed, I've learned that it's not about whether others are safe or not. It's about being safe within myself. It's about bringing all those pieces back together to create the whole me. It's about believing that all those pieces are important and make me who I am. It's about believing that the whole me is good enough to offer to the world. To not have shame for what I've experienced. To believe in what I've learned enough to shout it to the world. To not feel like I have to apologize for who I am.

Like a broken vase, the big parts of me have been glued back together. There are still visible cracks and tiny chips that will never be found, but for the most part I am whole. Whole enough to serve my purpose. To do what I was meant to do.

A vase holds water. Water that sustains the life of cut flowers. Water that allows those flowers to offer their beauty to the world.

I can hold water again. I can help sustain others. I can help others offer their beauty to the world. And I can offer my own.

I don't need this blog like I used to. I am not hiding parts of myself from the world anymore. I will leave it up because these few posts contain parts of my testimony that I was afraid to share.  These parts of me matter.  Sharing our souls matters.

But I don't need to write here anymore. I am confident in offering my story to the world, including the people I know. I don't think I'll post here again.

I will continue to write. I will continue to document my healing and my testimony. But I will do so on my main blog, The Mess that is My Life. If you would like to follow my healing and learn with me, I invite you to follow me there. The next post I'll publish will be my husband's story. He wrote about being an abusive husband and what he's learned and how he's grown. It will go up in a day or two.

I won't be writing here, but I am not going away. I still long to help others. I still want to listen and strengthen when I can.  I still want to testify.

Thank you for sharing in the spiritual parts of my journey. It helped to know I wasn't alone.

Sharing Spiritual Experiences

I've always known God was there.  Not some mystical, magical, undefined being.  A person who cared for me.  A person who protected me.  A person who loved and valued me.

For as long as I can remember.  He was there.  Not in some abstract way, a sense without definition.  In a way that just felt natural.  That felt secure.

I had my first intensely personal experience with God when I was very young.  I was aware of a relationship with God at an early age.  Before I knew who or what God was, before I understood what it meant.

But I don't share that with people.

Because once I started to learn how the world worked I understood that it wasn't safe for me to do so.

I grew up going to church.  We asked a blessing at meal time.  That was about the extent of religion in my house.  An occasional attempt at a religious lesson.  Choose the right.  Do unto others.

But no God.  We go to church, but we aren't those people.  Don't take the religion thing too far.  Don't get all self-righteous.

I learned early that discussing spirituality was not acceptable.  To even discuss God or ask a question about Christ or scriptures was inviting ridicule.  Any attempt I made to be righteous was seen as self-righteous judgment of those around me.  Was seen as holier than thou.

When you feel something so deeply, and have it mocked regularly, it hurts.  It is damaging.  It shuts you down and you learn to keep those thoughts and experiences to yourself.

But I have those experiences for a reason.  The back and forth communication I have with God is not for me alone.  The miracles in my life are not just to convince me.

It took me so long to understand this.  To find my way past the blocks that were placed in my life by judgmentality.  To see that the real power in my spiritual experiences comes when I share them.  When I listen to my heart, see that a person's desire is sincere, and share what I know.

The adversary loved it when I was too scared to share.  He wanted me silent because my words could bring others to God.

I am done being silent.  I am ready to sing praises.  I am ready to proclaim truth.

God lives.  He knows me and loves me.  He is mindful of me.  And of you.  He cares what happens in my life.  He guides my life.  God still works miracles today.

And I refuse to be silent about Him ever again.

Rewards of Motherhood

I am a woman of faith.  My belief in God, and His hand in my life, are the foundation for everything I do.  Including the way I mother my children.

I want them to know Him, to trust Him, to know that they are never alone -- even when I am not with them.

And sometimes I am rewarded for my efforts.  Sometimes my children say or do something that lets me know they have been converted.  For a woman of faith no reward is greater than a child who believes.

My daughter, Jessica, rewarded me recently with this beautiful poem.  And my heart melted.

I'm Yours

These are my hands.
They're not very big.
They aren't pretty or slender, either.
My fingers are stubby, and my knuckles stick out.
I have hangnails all over.
But here they are anyway:
My hands.

These are my feet.
They're really quite squat.
They're callused and a little dirty.
I have a hard time squeezing them into high heels.
I'm not sure they're the right shape.
But here they are anyway:
My feet.

This is my heart.
I know it's not perfect.
It's scared sometimes, and weak.
I don't use it as often as I probably should.
It just looks so small.
But here it is anyway:
My heart.

God,
it's hard not to feel like
I'm not very much.

Your power is so great,
and I'm only a tiny piece
of everything.

But I love you, and I know that -
incredibly -
you love me.

So I trust you.

Take them.

Take my hands.
Use them to reach people who need you.
Let them lift spirits and carry burdens.
Make them strong enough to do your will.
They're yours.

Take my feet.
Use them to get your gospel moving.
Let them guide me on the path of righteousness.
Make them quick enough to run to my brother's aid.
They're yours.

Take my heart.
Use it to find your children in their sorrows.
Let it show love to those who need it most.
Make it soft enough to hear when you whisper.
It's yours.

I give you all that I have,
all that I am.

I may not be much,
but
I'm yours.