Popinjay--BITTER

The challenge word issued last week is: BITTER.

I first wanted to take a photo (somehow) of my feelings of bitterness towards the church (in general) for being so legalistic. But the more I thought about it, the deeper I dug a hole. If I take a picture of a church building, that's just a building. It has nothing to do with the people who congregate there. I could stand outside of a church on Sunday morning and snap some shots of the people leaving. But they're not necessarily the people I have issue with. I could dig up some old photos of the people I do have issues with--but that doesn't seem quite right.

Then I thought I'd go to the store and take some pictures of vinegar and baking chocolate.

Then I thought, I'll just skip it, because I know what the truth is and I'd rather hide it.

In the same vein as my Bad Attitude post, here it is.

Me.

I am bitter.

I am the one who holds on to the hurt, who constantly rehashes it. I can't get it over it.

You can search my blog over and find posts about what the church has and it's people have done to me. It started when I was a small child and my Catholic church wronged me over and over. Then I was atheist. Then Independent Baptist. Then nothing--and in that nothing is when God did His best and most amazing work. Then Southern Baptist.

Now? Yeah, now I'm bitter.

I should be nothing again.

Because if I am nothing, then doesn't that give God something to work with?

* * *

Next week's word is: FUNNY

You have from now until next Monday to take your photo, post it and you'll be able to link it next Monday. I can't wait to see what you come up with!

* * *

Words coming soon:


Week #17--Excessive

Week #18--Content

Week #19--Powerful

Week #20--Joyful

pop⋅in⋅jay--noun--a person given to vain, pretentious displays and empty chatter.

In other words, blogging. ;)

Isn't that what this personal blogging is all about? Me. Me. Me. For this photo challenge, that's perfect. We're going to dig inside of ourselves and do some "concept photography."

I'm going to give you a word and you're going to take a photo of something that describes the concept of the word.

• You CANNOT take pictures of your kids or your pets for this challenge. Or anyone else's kids or pets. I know they're precious, but they make your creative bone lazy. Let's get outside of the box. Let's be challenged.

Please leave the link to your post (not the link to your website or blog.) For example:

Right: http://michellependergrass.com/week1_photo

Wrong: http://michellependergrass.com



So--Let's see your photos for BITTER.
Link up and don't forget to visit the other participants!

Bad Attitude

Confession: I have a bad attitude.
Truth: If you know me, you probably already know this.

Not about everything and everyone, though. Just some things. And man, I get pretty passionate about those things.

In my head, I don't have that bad of an attitude. It's more that I'm stating my opinion. When things work and are decent I'm pretty apathetic, really. I enjoy the good stuff, don't get me wrong. The good memories are all stored away in my heart--promise. But the bad stuff pisses me off.

I've been working on being more positive.

Confession: I tend to be in the empty half of the glass.
Truth: I don't know why. And it takes a lot of work to think positive.

I used to be a lot worse. Ask Phil. I used to believe that anything bad could and would happen to me (and most times, it did.) I was constantly worried. Like when Phil was driving over the road without me. In the days before cell phones. There were a couple times when I couldn't get him to respond to me paging him. I don't remember why now, but what I do recall is how obsessive frantic I would get. I'd call the pager 172 times in a few hours, I'd call State Troopers along his route, not to mention calling all the hospitals along the way.

I also believed Phil would leave me. And I believed I wasn't worthy of anyone's love. I believed I was a bad person and bad things would continue to happen to me.

I'm not quite that bad anymore. But sometimes those anxieties rear their ugly heads. (more than usual lately)

Confession: I don't care if you don't like me.

Truth: I don't care if you don't like me.

It's not just something I say. I truly don't care if you don't like me. I'm not here to please you. And why should it bother me if someone doesn't like something I do or say? Is my worth resting in a human?

I have no use for some people. I tolerate very little. I tell it like it is. And most often, that gets me in trouble. Some people want to be lied to. They want to feel good about themselves so they fish for compliments or blog comments or Twitter responses or Facebook conversations...anything. Anything at all to get attention.

I might have been like that when I was younger, which is probably why I can't tolerate it now. I sought out acceptance like it was a drug.

Except it's more powerful than any drug out there.


Confession: I am judgmental.

Truth: I always have been.

Not towards everyone though. Rational, logical people very seldom are judged by me. It's the people who make no sense to me that I wonder about.

Confession: I am a hypocrite.

Truth: So are you.

We all are.

Confession: I'm not good at encouragement.

Truth: I don't know how to change that.

I've been doing this Beth Moore Bible study and in the last session something very powerful happened to me.

Let me go back to November of 2005. I was asked by my Church to attend a Lifeway Women's Leadership Training conference.

Something happened there--well, it started a little before that. I had done another Beth Moore study and she had mentioned (quite often) having a spiritual "mama," a mentor. I prayed and prayed for one and God didn't answer.

Until this leadership conference.

I had felt just a tad bit uncomfortable eating meals at the conference because it seemed everyone there was with someone else from their own church. This observation was verified by the name tags that said the name of the church as well as the attendee's name.

We were meeting in Lifeway's sanctuary for a little music from Travis Cottrell before the day's classes began. I chose a pew 5 or 6 rows from the front, scooted myself to the middle and buried my nose in the day's schedule to verify that the sessions I chose were truly the ones I wanted to attend.

The music started, I stood up and started singing along. I looked to my left. Empty. I turned to my right. Empty. I realized then that I was the only one in the very, very, long pew and I was smack in the middle. I looked forward and behind. It was the only pew in the entire sanctuary that had open seats. And I was smack in the middle.

The uncomfortableness of it all sank in. I closed my eyes and asked, "Why can't I have someone to be with? Why can't I have a mentor?"

God's answer was loud and clear, even if silent, "Am I not enough?"

He really proved a point to me that day.

For the last 5 years, I've been going at it (from an earthly prospective) alone. No human mentors, not many humans that could relate to me and my spirituality, and I've been perfectly ok with that. I stopped asking for human mentors and friends. I leaned fully upon Christ.

Last week, at the end of the Stepping Up video session, Beth Moore asked participants to stand up and move in shoulder to shoulder. Our facilitator asked us to get up and do the same. Beth explained that as sisters in Christ, we should be shoulder to shoulder at all times. We should not let the enemy penetrate our bond. We should encourage one another, be there to bear each other's burdens, love each other unconditionally, and stand this way, shoulder to shoulder.

As she was saying all this, I was standing between two women I don't know. Shoulder to shoulder. Touching. There was a line of women in front of me and behind me all shoulder to shoulder. Surrounding me and non-penetrable.

I closed my tear-filled eyes and asked, "This means something, doesn't it?"

God answered again, silently, and not near as stern as before. The answer was yes. But He didn't tell me what exactly it meant.

Visual Prayer--Tears in God's Bottle

Rough days are inevitable. Seems like they come in conjunction with some of the biggest blessings. Which I suppose is par for the course.

What makes rough days worse is stupid people. Or stupid mean people. Or just plain ole people.
It might not be that way for you. I walk a tightrope between introvert and extrovert so while some days being with people energizes me, other days, it exhausts me to a disturbing point.

I continually read on of Oswald Chambers' devotionals about exhaustion. You're doing yourself a huge disservice if you relate to what I'm saying but don't read this. It's short.

I was feeling pressure from so many areas (some of them self-induced) so I decided to take a bath with some lavender bath salts, listen to Jeremy Camp on the iPod dock, and have some quiet time with God. I covered my eyes with a washcloth and asked the Holy Spirit to quiet my soul.

It took awhile. I think my mind naturally resists being still and quiet. The song Letting Go came on and behind my washcloth covered closed eyes, I clearly saw a jar with tears in it.

And I cried.

Then I put on my big girl panties and decided I could trust God to handle these mounting problems of mine. If he could store my tears in a jar, he could certainly take care of some insignificant people that were bothering me. Besides, what they do shouldn't be my concern, right?

I hurried to my easel and painted a jar.

Then I decided I needed to know where that verse was and in what context it was written. Turns out, it was smack in the middle of a Psalm. Psalm 56.


And what a wonderful Psalm it is for someone in the position I had been complaining about being in.

By creating prayer, renewal washed over me.

My spirit calmed and then soared.

The urge to crawl into bed and hide away from the world for weeks on end was gone.

Restored.

Not alone in misery and wandering, but every tear recorded and kept in God's bottle.

God Totally Called Me Out

You're probably not going to believe this.

So really, the truth is, I don't want to believe this.

I joined this Bible study because I needed to get back to God. I don't know a single person at the study and have never stepped foot in this church. (If you want to catch up on the story. Read this. Then this. And this.)

So, Beth Moore was on the video for Stepping Up, talking about the Psalms as songs and it was so very interesting. She was reading some verses and having us flip to some in our Bibles and we were in Psalms and had to move to Hosea and I flipped right to it because I know where Hosea is and I know the story Hosea tells and just the other day I likened my lifetime-relationship-search for God to Hosea, so yeah, I know right where it is. But the girl next to me didn't and for a moment, when I saw her go to the table of contents, I started (in my mind) judging her and I have no excuses. I just did. And I thought to myself, you should give her a little grace. There's no reason you should be thinking this stuff, this is stupid.

Then I hear Beth Moore on the video say, "ALL of us need to turn to the table of contents to see where Hosea is, lest we should get prideful in our hearts because we know where it is and our neighbor doesn't."

OUCH.

If the girl who sat next to me at Bible study last night is reading this, I want to apologize. Which makes me a coward, because I totally couldn't work up the nerve to say it last night. But I am sorry and I don't want to be like that.

If there was a time when I thought God couldn't possibly know and react to my every thought--that was washed away completely last night. You skeptics can call that coincidence. I think otherwise, though.

And I feel horrible and really need to change some things. What made it even worse (for me, in my head) is when I got up to leave she said, "Be careful going home, Michelle, it's snowing pretty bad." She knew my name and cared enough to wish me well. And here I am, being all mean in my head. For no reason.

Time to make some serious attitude adjustments.

Now What?

It was very hard for me to hit "publish" on this one.

* * *

In October of 1999, Zane was born. Phil was driving our semi over the road and he was home one day out of every thirty. That year, Jill and I spent New Year's Eve together afraid for Y2K. We survived.

In 2000, we filed bankruptcy on that semi and moved back to Indiana and lived with my parents for a short time. Phil found a driving in job in Chicago and he was home two days out of every seven.

In 2001, 9/11 happened and I was scared for our lives. I'd never, ever heard it so quiet outside as when all planes were grounded. That month, we found a duplex to rent, Zane turned 2, potty-trained and I was still trying to decide if I was a good mom or not.

In 2002...Phil got a local job hauling fuel and was home EVERY night.

In 2003, Phil and I bought the Knox house. I started attending a church for the first time since I was let down by a different church back in 1992.

In 2004, doctors thought Phil had cancer. He didn't. He did, however, punch a wall and break his hand and have to have pins put in.

In 2005, I was reading my Bible daily, active in Women's ministry (and Phil in men's ministry) and I was really getting to know God. Jill told me she had breast cancer and had already been battling it for a year. She'd already had a mastectomy and chemo and radiation. She made me get a breast exam. And I think they thought I had cancer. I then had an ultra sound. Then a mammogram (and platypus poop.) Then I had to see a surgeon. He told me I didn't have breast cancer.

In 2006, I was called to write. "Write." (I noticed I posted that on 12/02/06. Wonder if that has anything to do with 12:26?) That year, I also lost my Uncle Ed. I'm not sure there's ever been a time when I felt as close to God. And that's also the year my church gave me a wake up call--lying about me, accusing me of ridiculous things, and leaving me alone during a time of huge, monumental need. Phil thought he was having a heart attack. Our fridge broke. Phil lost his job. Phil had double hernia surgery. We almost lost our house. 2006 was probably the hardest year of my life. I felt so alone that year. And God taught me more about His love than I could've ever expected.

In 2007, my thyroid completely shut down and I've been trying to get my brain (and my body and my life) back ever since. It's also the year I was asked to be on the editing team at The Midnight Diner.

In 2008, I lost my best friend, Jill in January. She might have survived Y2K, but she did not survive breast cancer. And then my grandma passed away in September. I was asked to be Editor-in-chief of The Midnight Diner.

In 2009, We were taken on a trip of a lifetime to Key West and Marco Island, Florida in March. Phil quit truck driving altogether! He started working as property manager for Inspiration Wood. We were blessed with a grandson in April. Around May, I finally started feeling like myself again with the help of some replacement thyroid hormone. We moved in June and I've been trying to figure out what life is now that Phil's home all day, every day and now that everything has changed.


* * *


I started this post with the intention of talking about how I feel separated from God right now. I mean, I know He's there, He just feels distant to me and I remember hearing people talk about feeling this way and I distinctly remember thinking, "I will NEVER feel that way. I will always feel as close to God as I do at this very moment."

I was going to talk about this new Bible I got, The Books of the Bible--with no verse references--and how I was going to start reading that for the New Year.

But I got caught up in looking at the way things got so ugly during the time I was closest to God. I remember what I went through and the lessons I learned after I did Beth Moore's Believing God study. Things I haven't found the courage to write about.

And though God says, "Do not be afraid."

I am afraid.


I'm afraid that if I get close to Him again, something worse will happen. And I don't know how to let go of that fear.

I know I'm the one keeping the distance from God.

I said it.

Now what?

The Star of Bethlehem

My appreciation for God, my life, my study of Scripture--none of those will ever be the same again. I mean that from the depths of my soul.

From the Producer of The Passion of the Christ, Stephen McEveety, comes The Star of Bethlehem.


This documentary takes us on Attorney Rick Larson's journey from a Christmastime yard display of the Wise Men to some very incredible and powerful discoveries the sky has been holding--and we are able to witness the phenomenal poetry that is Christ's birth that God set in motion when He first laid out the universe.

It might sound melodramatic for me to say that this hour-long documentary was nearly as powerful to me as was The Passion of the Christ, however, it is the truth.

And remember when you saw The Passion of the Christ, how quiet and still you became? Do you remember how deep in your soul you felt Christ's love?

This is like that.

The exception is this is not about Christ's pain and suffering. This is about God's majesty. His Power. His creativity.

While it starts off slow, it certainly ends with a bang. A big, cuts-like-a-knife emotional bang.

And I can't give it away.

It's about The Star of Bethlehem, what the skies looked like around Christ's conception and birth as well as when the Magi's came from the East. It continues to astound with communication from the sky at the hour Christ cried out, "My God, my God, why have you foresaken me?"

You can buy the DVD here. It is only $11.85 or 6 for $60. (I seriously think I'm buying six as Christmas gifts.)

Here is a 2ish minute promo video, but it does not do justice to the whole story.

You can also visit BethlehemStar.net and read for yourself. But that's really not as effective as watching the footage.


Final note. I'm having a hard time labeling this as a review. It's an immense blessing that right now, I'm having trouble comprehending. It's that big.

Please. See for yourself. Then come back and talk to me about it.

Muddy Water

Last night I was not as I should be.

It didn't start last night. It's been going on for awhile.

Sometimes, I expect things. As if I deserve them. Entitlement. I don't want to play that card--the "Deserve" card--the one that says: What we really deserve is death but Christ came to save our wretched souls. While true, this is a different lesson in grace and suffering.

* * *

This is about two women, Hagar and Sarah, whose lives were entwined. Sarah was supposed to have believed God for his promise of a son. But. She didn't. She didn't think God could deliver or maybe didn't think he was delivering fast enough. So she told her husband (who also had a say in the matter, possibly the final say) to get Hagar, her servant, pregnant. And he did.

Then Sarah got mad at Hagar.

Uhm. Hello?

Hagar ran away from Sarah's bad attitude and mistreatment. She stopped for awhile. To think maybe?

She was sitting by a spring of water in the wilderness.

* * *

I ran away. I was walking in the wilderness near a small river. Alone.


Quit laughing at me.

Ok. Laugh. It is funny.

* * *

An Angel of the YHWH (Yahweh, the name God gives himself) found her by a spring of water in the wilderness and said to her, "You must go back to your mistress and submit to her mistreatment."

The Angel of the YHWH also said to her, "I will greatly multiply your offspring, and they will be too many to count."

* * *

I had to clean off in a mud puddle before I could get back in the car. I washed my feet, my hands, my arm, and my leg in muddy water. I couldn't get the mud off my pants though.

* * *

So she named the LORD who spoke to her: El Roi--The God Who Sees, for she said, "Have I really seen here the One who sees me?"

* * *

I had a dream last night, a long, weird dream. But at the end I was in my car. Leaving. I started to back out and noticed my stack of weirdly huge Bibles in the field across the road and it was raining. I sat for a long time and watched the rain pour over my Bibles. They were fat and bloated and soaking up the rain and getting ruined. I was driving away from the Bibles so I could turn around and be on the same side of the road as they were, so I could get them in from the rain.

I got out of my car and got soaked walking towards them...

Parting the Waters: Finding Beauty in Brokenness

I met Jeanne Damoff (pronounced DAM-off) a few years ago on a message board. Yep, she's one of those friends. I have a lot of them, but Jeanne is a bit different.

At first, I thought she didn't like me. She might not know that, but she does now. But seriously, now I understand it was my overactive imagination and nothing more.

We first met at the ACFW conference in Dallas in 2006. I remember laughing with her in the lobby, but what I remember most is feeling overwhelmingly sad when she got a call that someone close passed on. I felt the need to pray and she doesn't know but I was praying silently when I hugged her. I had also signed up to take a shift in the prayer room, I prayed for her family then, as well.

I really got to "know" Jeanne reading her blog and her every-other-Thursday posts at The Master's Artist. Then I found out she takes photographs (like really outanding ones!) And though Jeanne's words are phenomenal, down to earth, and always seem to leave you with an unexpected sense of hope and peace, her photography spoke its silent language to my heart.

This picture of Natalie, Jacob, and baby Lawson Jacob touched me deeper than I realized at first. When I saw it, all I knew was that Jeanne was a great writer, a funny gal who gave points to people who made her laugh, a great photographer, and a woman who loved her family deeply. I sort of knew that Jacob had brain damage, but I didn't know the story and I was didn't want to appear rude by asking. Little by little, the pieces came together. Jacob had an accident, he nearly drowned. He lived. He has brain damage. The photos of him are always stunning, there's so much in his eyes, they speak that silent language, too.

This was my first chapter in the story that is Jacob Damoff.

In August of 2007, I found out that Natalie was Jacob's best friend. I found out she named her baby Lawson Jacob. Soon after, Relief published selections from Parting the Waters.

And this photo then meant more...look at Natalie. I know that feeling of--what do you call it? Blessed pain? Or as Jeanne appropriately called it: Beauty in Brokenness?

Those moments in life, we all have them, or maybe not everyone does?

I have had them. When my grandma died. It was so hard to watch her go, yet knowing she was finally in peace was peace for me. When my uncle committed suicide. The single most painful event in my life, yet knowing the demons no longer could taunt him and that he's resting in Jesus now--overwhelming pain and relief simultaneously.

Is that a taste of what Jesus felt when he commanded His spirit to His Father?

My mind captures images and holds them, the first photo is one that comes to the forefront of my mind often. This is the other one.
There's something in Jacob's smile that commands attention.

I often find myself wondering what it's like to be that happy. Then I remember I am, I have only let life drag me down.

Parting the Waters is so brutally honest. The reality of it all is bitter and heartbreaking, yet through it all there is a hope bigger than explanation.

My mind captured an image from the book and will not let go. Jeanne and George had just brought Jacob home after a lengthy period of rehabilitation. Jacob, at this point, was not able to speak. They were at a special chapel service and the pastor, "...at one point said 'God,' Jacob pointed first to his own heart and then straight up in the air. "

Imagine that.

Jeanne continues, "After that day, when someone mentioned the Lord, Jacob pointed. Always to his heart first, then to the sky. He hadn't uttered a single word, but his actions preached a thousand sermons."

* * *

Another aspect of Jacob's story that I appreciate, one that helps me in my own life, is hearing everything the family and community did with Jacob while he was in a coma. I mentioned above that my grandma's recent death has affected me. She was not conscious for a week or more towards the end. I posted the story of the last minutes I was blessed with sharing with her. As Jeanne put it, "What a precious memory you'll always have of singing her into eternity." I still struggle with the last breath she took, at such a meaningful moment. I feel like God gave me a piece of this Beauty in Brokenness we're talking about.

My friend Elaina, said this to me, "Reading Parting the Waters reminded me that we understand so little of the way our brains work and to presume that someone doesn't comprehend is not a good plan. Even in dementia and Alzheimer's, they're still themselves. They just have trouble piecing everything together. I believe she heard you, Michelle."

Jacob has given me so many gifts, I can only imagine the crowns in heaven adorning his head, and I bet he'll have that big smile each time another is placed for the blessing he's been to a number so great, only God can know.

Order Parting the Waters here.
Join Parting the Waters on Facebook (and send Parting the Waters Flair!)

Visit others blessed by Parting the Waters:

5 Minutes for Books
A Little Whine and Cheese
A Peek at My Bookshelf
A Spacious Place
Alien Dream
Arkansas Dreams
Ashley Evans Boone
Aspire2 Blog
Bible Dude
Blame it on the Loud Mouth Gene
Blog Tour Spot
Bluebonnet in the Snow
Book Nook Club
Canadian Prairie Writer
Christy’s Book Blog
Conversations with a Stranger
Davis Family of 6
Fictionary
Five Bazillion and One
Gatorskunz and Mudcats
Getting Down with Jesus
Good Word Editing
i don’t believe in grammar
iamhealed.net
Kells Creative Musings
La Vida Dulce
Life with Missy
Lift My Noise
Lighthouse Academy
Marc Whitman’s Blog
Michelle Pendergrass
Musings from the Windowsill
Mystery, Suspense, and God, Oh My!
Net’s Book Notes
One Voice in a Big World
Portrait of a Writer . . . Interrupted
Relevant Blog
Restore
Sherry Kyle
So You Wanna Be Published
The Friendly Book Nook
the mcgill’s
The Writing Road
They Hang Like Paper Lanterns
This Present Joy
Tooles in Virginia
What I Learned Today
Wide-Eyed Fiction
Word Vessel
Write Brained
Write by Faith

Molly.

She didn't let me take too many pictures of her because she thought the flash was lightning.


She's been gone 5 days now and I'm trying not to talk about it because as much as she frustrated me rolling in dead stuff, well, I don't want to believe she might be dead somewhere.


This morning, Kimmie was taking Sarah to school. Kimmie is my best friend and Sarah is Zane's.

Kimmie handed her a dollar for chapel and Sarah said, "Did Molly come back?"


(This is hard for me to talk about.)


We're guessing that the reason Sarah asked (when handed the dollar for chapel) is that she must be praying for Molly in chapel. Which we have been, too. Every.single.morning before Phil leaves for work.

It has changed from, "Please bring her back." to "If she's not coming home, please don't let her be suffering."

It's hard enough for me to accept. Sarah's cat Sturdy, who was 15, just ran away a couple of months ago.

Now Molly.

If feels like 9 is too early for a little girl to learn that sometimes our prayers don't get answered the way we want.

At 37, it's hard to learn that prayers don't always get answered the way I want.

Blessings

I need to do this today. I had originally intended to post all the CRAP that's happening, but what's the point? I sent an email to one of my bloggy friends and then realized that even though there's so much wrong, there's also a lot that's right.

So.

• My husband loves me and I love him. Today, that's a big deal. When so many other couples are divorcing or are complacent and uncaring, I am grateful for Phil. What you see is what you get with us, I talk about him all the time because he's so much a part of me. I'm not sure I would have the strength to go on without him. Y'know that song Johnny and June? Well, not just the song, but the Johnny and June love story? ("...and when you're gone, I wanna go too, like Johnny and June...") Yeah, that's us minus singing careers. It was rough in the beginning, but it's always been stronger than we're able to explain.
  
  
  
  
• My son. He'll be nine on Saturday. Nine! Goodness how did that much time go by? He's turning into his father (which pleases me to no end.) He's such a good kid. Sensitive to people's needs, caring, loving, funny--man is the kid funny. For example, yesterday he says, "When you see RIP on a tombstone, it's Rest In Peace. If a Lego guy died, it would have to be Rest In Pieces."

• Our health, I mean, aside from bumps, sprains, bruises and such, we're pretty healthy people. Phil's got high blood pressure, I've got this (as of yet unfixed) hypothyroidism but those are totally treatable and minor in comparison to things I don't want to talk about.

• We have families who love us.

• We still have our home.

• Phil still has a job.

• We've got the best friends anyone could ask for.

• There's food on the table and clothes on our backs.

• We're able to give a little each month to our little girl in Peru through Compassion International.

We're really not that bad off. And I need to remind myself because I'm sure I'm in the midst of a big ole rootin' tootin' spiritual battle. I've walked in this fire before, I remember what it feels like to try to continue walking with those unhealed blisters on the bottom of my feet. It's not fun, but I understand it's a part of walking with Christ.

Feet are important this time, I'm trying to figure it all out.

Feet walk, run, jump, play, bend, twist. Feet are the foundation of our walk.

Any other valuable foot notes? ;) Pun totally intended.

Confirmed, I think.

Here's yesterday's Praying In Color:


Yesterday, I wrote about spiritual battles. How in the past, I've first beat myself up then become depressed and so on.

Today, I was reading Chuck Swindoll's daily devotion (he's one of my favorites) and he said:

What do you do when tragedy strikes? What do you do when a test comes? What's your first response? Is it to complain? To be angry? To blame? To try to reason your way out of it? Or have you formed the habit of doing what Elijah did? Do you go to your special place and get alone with God? Elijah provides a wonderful example for us. No panic. No fear. No rush. No doubt.

Here's the link in case you want to read the whole thing. When I read that I thought wow. Is this not what I just experienced? Didn't I just blog about this?

See, sometimes I do listen.

Spiritual Battle?

In the past five years, I've found that many of my spiritual battles have been pretty obvious if I pay attention. When I was just getting back into faith, trying the Bible on for size, and stretching my believing muscles, I was typically hit with financial difficulties like this one. Phil's been with me for all of the battles, but I'm speaking for myself in the lessons because I think we are all tested and tried in unique ways and even though we were going through what appeared to be the same situation we were each struggling with different pieces of the same puzzle.

The financial woes I experienced looked like a different animal to Phil--maybe a self-esteem or a pride issue. (not saying that's the case, just trying to explain how a problem can be one thing for me and another for him.)

When I learned to trust God for all things involving money--which is a hard lesson and I'm not nearly as mature as I'd like to be--the battles started involving electronics. I remember I'd made the decision to write and my computer crashed and then the laptop crashed. My mom (graciously) gave me an old one of hers and it didn't have Microsoft Word on it. I posted a question on a message board asking if there was an open source version of Word and a wonderful man sent me his old copy of the program. (I'd mention his name, but I didn't ask permission and I don't know if he wants the public glory. I'd love to give it to him, but he's a rather humble man and he sent it because he'd just prayed asking God to show him someone in need of the program) I was floored.

Soon after, our cat knocked over the Beta fish bowl onto the laptop and fried it. I thought I blogged about that but I can't find it.

Those are just a few of the examples. Other things include cell phones losing signal at important moments, power going out for no reason, etc...

So that brings us to the topic d'jour. Seems that things have escalated a bit. Now the battles are financial and electronic.

I can't lie. I totally stressed out yesterday over the latest event. However, I did something I don't normally do. I prayed. Yes, I pray regularly, especially when people I know are in need. I'm a great intercessory pray-er. When things go wrong in my life, though, the first thing I do is blame myself. Then I get down on myself for being a complete and total idiot. Then I get depressed. Then I vow to never let something like that happen again (as if I have control!)

Yesterday, though, I grabbed some pretty scrapbook paper and made myself a Praying In Color journal that I could keep in my purse. And I prayed--in color. I found out about it while surfing the web a few months back and it has done wonders for my prayer life.

I took a picture of the one I did last night. Just because.



EDIT TO ADD: Did you happen to notice the date I put on that prayer in the photo? Wow. I got out my journal to draw one for today and saw that. What the...?

Tackle It Tuesday--Pruning

This week I:

• Got caught up on laundry
• Made some homemade laundry detergent
• Made corned beef and cabbage for Phil and ruebens for me
• Unfortunately, my Christmas tree is still up

I have no pictures today. I thought I would, I intended to, and then a storm swept in and I was left to do some major pruning. I'm talking about a metaphorical storm, spiritual pruning, things like that. I think that's probably a lot harder than the actual act of real pruning.

Dead branches do nothing for a tree, especially a fruit tree or a grape vine and those are commonly referred to in the Bible.

Dead branches in life can look like many things. Relationships, attitudes, thoughts, habits, words, actions, I mean, the list is really almost endless.

Pruning isn't easy, you certainly don't want to rip off something that is attached, that would be painful, yet Jesus is the Ultimate Gardner, the Green Thumb of Green Thumbs. When He says, "Prune that one," and points--well, then I have little choice but to prune. I guess I can say no. He does give me that option. But I've said no before and I remember with clarity the fallout I dealt with.

So. Here's to snipping.

I Hate Being Sick

I barely made it out of bed at all yesterday.

My fever: 102.2

My fever dream: The short story I'm working on for the Indiana Horror Writers anthology was printed out on a table. I saw a huge, god-like semi-colon in the air above it. A big freaking semi-colon. I said (to the semi-colon, mind you) "What are you doing there?" It said, "Two parts are not supposed to be together, but I make it so"

The best part of the day:

Zane: "Are you feeling okay, Mommy?"

Me: "No, I feel horrible."

Zane: "I can pray for you."

Me: Start crying

Zane: Puts my head on his chest and prays that Mommy feel better.


Today: No fever. Oh the faith of a child.

The CVS ExtraCare thing

I saved 71% this week!

I'm going to give it a whirl.

Here's the progress of my first week.

If you want to know the how and why, check out Living Almost Large--I think she explains it way better than I could hope to at this point.

So last week we bought (Feb 3rd flyer):

• (1) 3 packBritta filters for my pitcher
  
• (4) Shower to Shower powder
  
• (1) fabric softener
• (3) dishwashing liquid
• (1) bag cough drops
  

I spent a total of $32.91 and got back $9.00 in the ExtraCare Bucks (ECB's).

Granted, it may take us 3 months to use the filters, powder, and dishwashing liquid, probably a month for the fabric softener, but it is stuff that I use constantly.

I didn't buy anything that we don't normally use and I only bought the amounts I did to get the ECB's.

When I go back to CVS, I will be able to use manufacturer's coupons and pay with the ECB's I received.

SO...

I went back and got (still Feb 3 flyer)

• (3) Speed Stick deodorants
• (1) Garnier conditioner
• (2) 75% off girlie lip glosses for part of a birthday present
• (1) V05 Shampoo
• (1) Gain laundry detergent
• (1) 75% off after shave for Phil
• (5) Boost Smoothies
• (2) Reese's Cups singles
• (1) Venus Razor w/5 blades
• (1) Eyeshadow
• (1) Valentine candy for Zane

After using ECB's, I paid $33.91 cash, got back $32 ECBs


The new CVS flyer started yesterday (Feb 10 flyer) so I looked it over and headed out to see what kind of damage I could do. I had $32 in ECB's from the last trip.

• (3) Charmin 9-packs
• (1) Bounty 8-pack
• (5) 81mg Asprin
• (1) Colgate White
  
• (1) Spongebob Colgate for kids
• (1) Excedrin Sinus/Headache
• (3) Battery operated toothbrushes
• (2) 8-packs of toothbrushes
• (2) 2 litres of Diet Pepsi Max
• (2) Milky Way fun size packs

My total was $51. I handed the cashier my manufacturer's coupons and my ECB's. My total was then $15.45 and I got $17.95 in ECB's back.



My running total looks like this:
Spent cash: 82.35
- ECB's rec'd: 58.43
$23.92! That's 71% off of my total spending!

I'd say this is well worth my time and effort.

He Chose You...not the other way around

How many times have I heard someone say, "Make a decision for Jesus!"

The statement never felt right. Still doesn't. I know all about inviting Jesus in my heart, but come on, if He wasn't after me in the first place, would I bother?

People don't like to think Jesus knows all the answers. They talk about how maybe we're just puppets on a string to God. Ok. So what? I'd rather be God's dummy than anything else I can think of. I'm protected, loved, cherished, and I'm allowed and encouraged to be me. In fact, I was created to be me. I was given gifts, talents, and unique abilities that only I possess.

God did all that for me.

Why?

You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit—fruit that will last. Then the Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. John 15:16

Sticking With A Theme

Who me? Sticking with anything...are you kidding?

Sometimes God smacks me upside the head in a playful way with themes in my life. He gives me clues and I think he starts laughing at me the way I laugh at Phil when he turns circles in the kitchen because he can't figure out what it is he should be doing.

I posted this at the Misfits Blog about Emotion in writing on Monday. Today on a new-to-me blog, I read this from Responding To Emptiness:

God is a God of truth, and acting as if our situation or emotions didn’t exist dishonors him and does violence to our own souls. God created us as emotional beings, and he is not glorified when we try to pretend away our feelings—even the ugly ones. Worse, this response robs us of the opportunity to engage with God and to hear from him in the midst of whatever we are experiencing. How can he help us work through our feelings to something holy and righteous if we won’t let him shine light into our hearts?

Acting as if our emotions don't exist dishonors God.

God is not glorified when we try to pretend away our feelings.

Wow.

That's pretty intense, don't you think? Oh how guilty am I of shoving stuff aside? I remember clearly my Uncle Ed's funeral and how I was so numb. I pretended I could handle it, and people thought I did. People kept apologizing to me saying, "I'm sorry, I know how hard you fought for him." And I kept telling myself, "I knew this was going to happen. In May of 2005 I told his hospital appointed psychiatrist that he needed to be in a facility he couldn't check himself out of. The doctor told me the only places like that were state facilities and there was a 6-8 month waiting list. I said, and I'll never forget that day, "He'll be dead in 6-8 months." The doctor looked away and said, "I know. I'm sorry there's nothing I can do."

9 months 15 days later, he killed himself. And I knew it was going to happen. There wasn't a damn thing I could do. I was plagued by depression and nightmares in the weeks following his suicide. I knew I was grieving, but I denied my emotions. Until that night I wrote a very, very hard to read piece. I sent it to a few people (you know who you are and I'll love you for two eternities for going through this with me) I know it was hard for them to read, it was harder to write. But it was the first time I was honest with myself and God. I shared it because I had to.

On the outside, I'm not a very emotional person. But inside, where people can't get to, where they can't chip away at the core of my being, I am me. A very vulnerable, emotional person. One who is trying to learn to deal with the emotions that are a natural, God-given gift.

Beehive Leagues

This is writing related, so stick with me here. Ok, leave if you're not interested in writing. I had an epiphany.

When Zane first joined the soccer league, the only thing I knew was that you couldn't touch the ball with your hands and there was a goalie. That's it.

Zane has played soccer four years now and I've watched the teams grow from the four and five year old "beehive" soccer to the present seven and eight year old games that are starting to resemble a real game. Beehive means that all of the kids from both teams are on the ball running from one side of the field to the other, the ball is the beehive and all the bees are close. As they've grown, I've also learned a bit about soccer, but last night I was baby-ing Phil after his surgery and we were flipping through channels and found a professional soccer game. We watched in amazement at the accuracy of the passes and the strength these athletes displayed.

I'd never watched a professional game.

So my epiphany is more like a Homer Simpson D'oh moment.

When it comes to writing--who should I be watching? The Beehive youngsters or the seasoned professionals? You know where I'm headed, don't you?

I think I've wasted far too much time watching wrong league. This epiphany also plays into my years with direct sales. It was often said, if you want to be a manager, then act like one and surround yourself with other managers. To apply that to a writing career is a bit different though, at least through my eyes. There are a lot of people out there who call themselves writers because of some romantic notion floating around in their brains--I'm not talking about surrounding myself by those people. I'm talking about surrounding myself with the seasoned veterans.

The good thing about being a writer is if the professional I admire is gone, I can still capture his essence by studying his work.

There you have it. I've made a decision to go with it. I feel like I need to put my blinders on, focus. I'm not going to waste my time anymore trying to learn from the Beehive League, I'm going for the Big Dog training. They, of course, make it look easy and it will be much harder in the long run, but won't the payoff be that much sweeter?

The Start of Something New

Are you one who resists change?

I'm not, I get excited about it. I've sensed for the past few years this "spiral up" thing God has going on. I learned a bit about it the first I worked through Beth Moore's Believing God.

What I got out of it was something like this. The Hebrews were freed from Egyptian slavery, yet walked circles around the desert. Some spiraled up and crossed the Jordan, some didn't. Things came full circle for them (Gilgal, the place and the name mean circle), the Israelites had to be circumcised and healed before they moved on. Last year around this time, I blogged about this spiritual circumcision

This spiritual circumcision that requires a loss of a way of life, this is what I have been experiencing. First God asked me to move on from my position with AtHome America. Then He asked me to leave my Church. Then He asked me to leave a place online that I have been for many, many years and have made so many of my close friends.

It is a year later and I'm find myself spiraling up in many areas of life. In our family life, much has changed since we've been working through Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University For the first time in our relationship, Phil and I feel like we're getting a grip on our finances. I've never felt so good about the choices we're making as I do learning these skills.

I've got my Misfits--love you guys! That's my critique group. If I dare say so myself, this group has some exciting things happening now and I can see many more celebrations for the future!

Then there's this post from last year. I talk about how I lost myself, my creativity, lost who I was and how my friend Kimmie was helping me get me back. This year, her husband said, "I have never seen a person change as much as Michelle has and in such a dramatic way. From her clothes to her attitude, she just carries her self different now." Thank you for telling me that Kimmie! It means more than you know.

Big things have happened with writing as well. Most of them are completely internal and you'd be bored to tears if I hashed that out here.

Once again, faced with some disappointing events with long time friends yesterday, I realize that people will always disappoint me and I'll always let them down. It is in forgiveness that we get on with life. Some people don't have the capability to forgive, or to spiral up and they'll never cross the Jordan. More than once I've been stuck running around in circles. I'm just glad that when I'm feeling a bit down, some of those crumbs fall to the floor like Chanda's post and the TGIF devotional because those tell me that what's happening is not wasted, as a matter of fact, it is probably set in motion by God. So, while I hate it that I've had to leave stuff behind, I love it that I did a Spiral Up.

So, like Cowboy Up--God has given me Spiral Up. LOL

Nothing to Read Here Part 3

Here's Part 1

Part 2

Chronologically speaking, I'm not doing well here and I'm going to have to back things up a bit. Most of the story I've told has been from 2005 until now, but there's a pretty big event that I skipped right over, it was what put me in the hot seat.

There's so much backstory that its hard to really know at this point what is important and what's not. Uncle Ed was only thirteen years older than me, he was my big brother that I didn't have. When mom and dad got married, they bought a house across the alley from Grandma and Uncle Ed and I spent the majority of my childhood there because my grandma spoiled me. She bought me Cocoa Puffs and microwave chicken patties and took me to the bowling alley on her league nights and let me have all the Coke and fried mozzarella sticks I wanted on top of giving me pocketfuls of quarters to play Ms. Pac Man. Uncle Ed and his buddies treated me like the kid sister. In one of his old yearbooks, all his friends signed messages to me. I was two at the time. I remember one said, "Give me smoochies, Michelle" because I'd toddle around kissing all my big brothers. I wish I had that yearbook now. Most of them were at the funeral and I miss them.

I wasn't a very nice kid growing up and I caused my parents dump trucks full of problems. I don't know why. Can you imagine me...being rebellious? Ha! I haven't ever been able to deal well with rules, its something that is just in my blood, something that makes me fight to break out. When I'd fight with my parents I'd go to grandma and Uncle Ed's. But the time I started driving, Uncle Ed had married and moved, so I'd drive to his house. I'm pretty sure I spent more time at his house than I did my own. Aunt Tammy had to go back to work weeks after Andrew was born and they paid me to come straight from school to their house to watch the boys, Frank was a toddler and Andrew, newborn. Uncle Ed worked midnights and slept from the time I got there until it was time for him to leave and then Aunt Tammy would come home. I can't remember how long I did this, but it seems like it was quite awhile.

I moved to Missouri in March of 1995 and Uncle Ed's third son, Kyle was just a little tyke. The week after I left home for the first time, Kyle was admitted to the hospital for a rare blood disorder and I got a call that I might have to come home for a bone marrow transplant if no one else matched. I was mortified that I was 600 miles from home, there wasn't anything I could do. Things worked out, Kyle's a teenager now and healthy as ever, but I still have a hard time with the whole not being there thing.

Zane was born late in 1999 and I wasn't clear on what religion I was and Catholic ritual says you baptize a child around six weeks of age. So I told Phil that I thought I should do it, otherwise I'd never hear the end of from my grandmother. This was the first time Phil and I had spoke of God, religion, denomination, etc...it didn't go well. At.all.

Phil refused to be part of it.

His grandmother, Grandma Barnes, wanted to meet my family so she drove with me to Indiana for the Christening and Phil met us there (he was driving the semi). I think the only reason Phil came was because Grandma Barnes was there and I often wonder if that's why she asked to come with me?

Phil refused to even come to the church. Uncle Ed stood in Phil's place. I understand now why Phil was so dead-set against the Christening, but I didn't then and that's a story for another day.

When we moved back to Indiana in 2000, we lived with Uncle Ed for maybe a half a year or so, I really don't recall exactly how long it was, but I loved being with him and the boys. I had missed them so much the six years we were in Missouri.

By 2004, which is the year I'm trying to get to for this event that was so pivotal in the story, Phil and I had bought a house about an hour from the rest of my family. Uncle Ed's downward spiral had started maybe in the previous year or two? Until September 2004, I was pretty unclear and had just heard stories of him acting strange and taking a lot of over-the-counter Rx narcotics.

He'd have withdrawls, which none of the doctors or hospitals saw for what it was. Sometimes I wonder if my brother, sister-in-law, Phil and I were the only ones to see things clear? Uncle Ed would take a ninety day script of Vicodin in just three or four weeks and shortly after develop "symptoms" uncontrollable shakes which he said was nerve pain. Please don't think I'm crass, cold or unsympathetic to his actual pain. Uncle Ed did suffer a horrible accident and several complications, and I know in my heart, he did have pain. However, I'm convinced that his shakes were not nerve related. They were the direct result of coming off of highly addictive narcotics. This is the kind of stuff I learned in September 2004.

It was a big weekend for our family. My cousin Jen was getting married! You know how Catholics love weddings, it was something all of us were looking forward to. In telling this story now, I realize that no one in the family really knows what happened that night except me. Uncle Ed didn't feel good. He didn't want to go to the wedding and told my mom he was going to stay home, my mom called and told me.

My stomach sank and a feeling of dread like I've never known wrapped me up and squeezed, breathing was difficult. I told my mom I wasn't going to the wedding either, I said it before I even knew the words were coming out of my mouth. I don't think she really thought it was necessary for me to stay with him, but I knew if I didn't he'd be dead. I saw it as she was telling me he was staying home, but I couldn't tell her that.

After a phone call to Uncle Ed, I was on my way to pick him up, he'd stay a couple days at my house. He'd just had something--a surgery, a hospital stay, I can't remember, but he wasn't released to drive, although he made short trips to the grocery store, etc...so it wasn't like he was completely disabled. Insisting that I be in control of his meds, I took charge. Things were already at a point that some of the family was aware he was abusing his medication, but from my perspective, no one really seemed to do anything. He handed over the pills willingly and we had a great talk, about God even, on the drive to my house. He started to dose off towards the end of the hour trip, so I let him sleep.

Phil had dinner ready when we got to our house and we ate together and talked, Phil had to work five in the afternoon until five in the morning, so he left shortly after Uncle Ed and I arrived. On our property is a place we have huge bonfires. In the summer and fall, Phil and I often have a fire and sit with a glass of wine for me, a beer for him and watch the fire, the stars, listen to the frogs, and talk. Uncle Ed wanted a bonfire and I thought it would be a great opportunity for us to relax and talk, but it was too early to start the fire. He asked if he could get on our riding lawn mower because it was relaxing for him and his yard was so small he couldn't enjoy the wide openness of the country. So of course I let him. Figured it couldn't hurt anything.

He didn't even make it around the yard once. This is the best picture I have to help describe the scene. Just to the right, where the tree is cut off in the picture...there's a telephone pole. If you look at the road in this picture, you can almost tell there's a ditch between the road and the yard, but it doesn't look that deep, the picture is kind of deceptive. Anyway, right before the telephone pole, Uncle Ed crashed the riding lawn mower into the ditch and was hanging over the steering wheel, unconscious.


More tomorrow.