Be Still

There's actually a clearing in this storm that's my life.

Here's how it went down, the short version.

A verse came to Phil's mind during a meeting. He didn't tell me about it.

We prayed over our lunch and I asked for help for a certain difficult situation that's been on my heart.

A verse came to my mind. I told Phil about it. He said, "That's the SAME verse that came to my mind while I was in the meeting earlier."

So.

I guess that means I should listen.

Be still and know that I am God.

Popinjay--FAITH

Faith is the reality of what is hoped for, proof of what is not seen.

And what is not seen by mere human eyes

is known by God.

Last week, just two weeks after mom died, a "friend's" actions through me into a tailspin. That tailspin that killed Goose (Top Gun) Remember that scene? Yeah. All kinds of bad.

My mental reserves were tapped dry.

Recovering, or trying to recover myself, was in vain and I ran away from home.

Drove away from home.

Packed a bag.

Had to get away. Somewhere. Anywhere.

I drove to a remote McDonalds location to sit in the parking lot. To steal their WiFi.

To find an Abbey. Some Franciscan retreat with Monks and quiet. Stillness. Solitude. Prayer. Respite.

None could accommodate on such short notice.

A long-time, dependable, real friend works for an airline.

Texted her: Can we please fly away somewhere. Anywhere? I need to go.

No answer.

Drove to a coffee place with WiFi, chatted with a real friend. Had a deep, painful spiritual talk and heard without doubt God telling me to "Go back to your friend. Put up with her abuse."

Like I wanted to hear that.

Obedience is better than sacrifice.

Drove home.

Hit a baby deer.

Cried until my eyes hurt. My heart came out.

Woke up the next day, got a call from the friend who works for an airline. "Come visit me."

Before I left, a local artist--one of my favorite's--asked for photo inspiration from his fans. Barns, farm scenes, midwest flair. My favorite kind of photos.

I set out with my camera, my son, and faith.

Found plenty of barns and farms to photograph.

Also found The Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Set out on a pilgrimage. Walked the meditation trail.

Got exactly what I was looking for.

Faith is the reality of what is hoped for, proof of what is not seen.

My friends, Heather, Michele, Amber, and Karina have been hosting Popinjay the entire time I've been away. They make my heart sing. God blessed me with these ladies and I'm blessed beyond measure.

Karina is hosting this week and next. Hop on over and add your link.

P.S. Karina was supposed to use FAITH last week. I'm glad she didn't. I'm not sure how much faith I had. This week, I am renewed.

Amazing Grace

In September of 2008, God allowed me to sing my grandma into eternity. She was a strong woman and fought to the very end, but went peacefully. A gift such as this would come along only once in a lifetime.

Or would it?

In the wee hours of Monday June 7, 2010, I was getting ready to sleep for a couple hours in the adjoining bed in mom's hospital room. By this time, we all knew her time was short, but only God knew the minute and hour he'd call her home. The nurse came in to take mom's vitals. Asked me if I needed anything. I brushed my teeth. I leaned over mom and talked to her. Told her I was going to nap in the bed next to her, I wasn't leaving the room, I'd be right there.

In that moment, her respirations dropped in half. I got closer, kissed her forehead, caressed her cheek, told her I love her. I said, "Ok mom. I'm not going to sleep. I'm just going to stay right here with you, ok?" And I did. More talking. More kissing. More breathing in her scent.

Without even knowing what was happening, I said, "Mom? I don't know if you want me to sing to you like I did grandma, but I sure will."

Amazing Grace

How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

Mom's mouth moved for the first time in days, as if she was singing with me. I started over because I couldn't remember any other words.

Amazing Grace

How sweet the sound

And she breathed her last.

Twice in a lifetime I sang the two most important women in my life into eternity. There is no such thing as coincidence.

(Parentheses)

I went to a writing conference and my mom needed medical treatment.

Once home, I found out my mom has a brain tumor.

My mom has lymphoma.

I've been with her nearly every day.

My mom seems to like to sleep when I'm with her. And that's ok. She needs to rest and heal.

(I've been writing.)

The hospital has been my office. My husband has become the homeschool mom and housewife. And I take my lunch and my laptop to the not-so-comfortable chair next to my mom and I turn on Pandora and she sleeps (and I write.)

Good days. Bad days. But the worst days have not been caused by tumors or lymphomas, but by careless humans.

(on those days, I cannot write.)

But on the days, which are most days, that mom wants a cool washcloth on her eyes and wants to nap while I'm with her (those days, I write.)

And in the (parentheses) of one planned writing conference to a surprise second one, I have finished one proposal of my own and one with a very good friend. This surprise second conference includes a meeting with a publisher who is interested in both proposals.

And today is June 1. Jill's birthday. Last year, we moved into our new home and new life on this day. This year I'm praying for my mom to recover. I'm also praying for what's been happening in the (parentheses) of my life.

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.

And you thought God didn't talk

What happens when you write this and this and tell God you're scared of being close to Him?


This is what I heard at the Beth Moore Bible study, Stepping Up:

"The Psalms of Ascent have been paralleled to a soul getting closer to God."

"We will move to the next level with God."

"I don't want to be too scared to go on with God."

and finally...

"...to find yourself in a nearness to God that you've never been."


(Do you really think God doesn't speak?)

Now What? Continued...

You can read part 1 here.

* * *

Apparently when you ask God, "Now what?" He hears.

...Ask and it will be given to you

Apparently when you ask God, "Now what?" He hears.

He sends people to you who say things like:

"Having faith means deciding what your relationship with God is, just the two of you (and his legion of angels who follow you around slapping you upside the head, sometimes just because they're having a bad day - they have those, too, I assume)."

And:

"Just be you - because He thinks you are pretty f-ing cool and if you be someone else, he'll send an angel to do that head-whacking thing."

My friends are angels.

One told me a story of how he had a meltdown after some particularly horrible events. He told me how he told God he wanted "out" even though he didn't know what that meant. He was a little fearful of what it could mean so he apologized and he had a peace about things that led to him understanding that God invited him to be with people during their times of crisis, that God trusted him to be there for them. That he didn't have to accept every invitation and if he chose not to accept it, he wouldn't be punished or scorned or set outside the city gates to gnash his teeth.

One humbled me beyond measure by breaking down walls to tell of things not ever shared.

One who has been struggling with this same issue is now emerging from the other side and shining a flashlight back for me, so I can get a glimpse of the path.

...seek and you will find

At a church I've never stepped foot in, with women I've never met, but also alone, I've started a journey. I'd be a liar if I told you I knew that yesterday. There was an inclination, a desire, to work on a Beth Moore Bible study, that was it. No more, no less. It was a comfortable way for me to try this thing with God again.

(God was giggling at his mighty cleverness.)

An S.O.S. was sent out to Twitter and Facebook asking if there was a study starting and another angel told me where to find two of them and using my awesome gift of deduction, I chose the Wednesday night study called Stepping Up.

Stepping Up—a journey through the Psalms of Ascent

If the woman said it once, she said it a million times last night, “Because the veil has been torn, there is no distance between you and God.”

There is no distance between God and I.

There is no distance between God and I.

Is that my answer? (I think so.) (yes. I know so.)

Beth Moore wrote in today’s homework,

"This study is about going from here to there. About making real progress. Simply put, if you want to get on with it, whatever “it” may be, you can rest assured you’re signed up for the right journey. "

...knock and the door will be opened to you.

Does God really invite us to be a part of His work or are we obligated and bound by Christ to do it?

Grudgingly?

With trepidation?

The very first verse of the very first Psalm we're studying:

"In my distress I cried unto the Lord, and he heard me."

It's the little things, y'know?

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...

The Fall

Why is it that when I hear sermons about The Fall, when I read about The Fall, and when I've done Bible studies that include something about The fall, why is it that they all act as if God didn't know it was going to happen?

God created everything, God knows all, He's known me since the creation of time, universe, earth, and so on--but really? He didn't know Adam and Eve would sin?

I can't get on that train.

I've never heard someone express opinions about the fall that say God created the universe knowing full well the first people would sin and He did it anyway with His divine plan in mind anyway. Nope. I hear them say, God created everything perfect for us and we screwed it up so then He had to come up with the Jesus plan.

Ok, so they don't say it quite as sarcastically as I, but is my point being made?

Quit acting as if God had to change His plans because we did something that surprised Him.

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

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.