Even in the storm He is good.

Had somewhat of a traumatic experience on the bus today.  But I refuse to not  praise God and how He carried me through.  So first here are some small praises for Him and Him alone.

He protected by saying “here and no further”.

He comforted me with His words and whispered to my heart.

He wrapped me in His arms and carried me home, regardless of how hard each step was.

He provided an amazing support system in my two roommates to walk me out of the storm.

He proved once again He is trustworthy, has always protected me and He always will.

Now that you are on the edge of your seat, let me first say,I just had my personal space violated, thankfully that was it.  However, it doesn’t change the fact that I felt trapped, terrified and taken back over 10 years.

As I got on the bus tonight (I have started taking public transit, the bike is too hard on my back), I felt the Spirit urge me to sit on the seat next to the window.  So I obliged trusting that small voice and gave up the safe seat on the aisle.

As I sat reading through Facebook status on my phone this burly beast of a man mumbled something and sat down in the seat next to me.  No big deal, until he made sure to sit close enough that our legs were touching and almost our shoulders.  I felt myself shrink away and try to make the metal outside of the bus stretch.

I glanced at a friends Facebook status and found that verse staring at me.  You know that one that is always there when you need it the most, hiding on a wall, or sitting in the bookstore window. “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for wholeness and not for evil, plans to give you a future and a hope” Jer 29:11.  It was then I recognized the fear that seemed to paralyze me in my seat.  I whispered my first prayer to Him and I heard that still small voice remind me that a spirit of fear does not come from the Lord.

To make matters worse, the man had an odor about him that took me back to my marriage.  It is the smell of a person who consumes so much alcohol that they no longer sweat water.  Instead, alcohol leaks out of their every pore, drunk or sober.  This is the smell that permeated my life with my ex-husband.  He smelled of it, his mom smelled of it and so did his dad.

I continued to pray trying to hide in the peace and finding it a struggle.  I began to feel light headed from not taking a full breathe in five minutes.  Finally he reached over me and pulled the stop line, and exited the bus. 

I slumped into my seat, and continued to scroll through Facebook as if nothing had just happened. Unwilling to face it I crawled to the max, feeling violated and terrified of every person near.  Still refusing to admit my feelings, I tried to concentrate on my phone and could hardly bring it into focus.  I even called a friend and refused to admit how traumatized I felt.  Instead I told her that I didn’t know how I felt about a minor happening on the max and just needed to process.  When in fact I wanted to run all the way home jump in the shower and scrub until that feeling went away.  Wait isn’t that how rape victims feel, not me, he didn’t touch me.

As I walked though I made a choice to not run and I let the tears begin to flow.  I talked to God, got angry with God and continued to cry.  When I reached my apartment I snuck in the door and silently crept into my room.  For ages (well it felt like it) I wept on my bed praying they would hear me, hoping I wouldn’t have to ask for help.  Finally I left my room and  my roommates engulfed me in their love, talked me through my emotions, and validated how I felt.

In the end, it was only a minor thing, that showed me a lot of big things about who I am, and who I am in Christ.   I didn’t run!  I didn’t shut down!  And God walked with me through the whole thing!

Praise the King of Kings, I am a new creation in Him and He will carry me through all!

Good men do exist

I am tired and don’t feel like writing.  But I am trying to keep a promise I made to myself, so here goes nothing.  I am having a hard time writing lately and I think it may be due to all the blogs I have been reading.  My writing style is so different from the majority of them.  Also, I am reading a lot of blogs on dating and relationships, two things I have very little experience in.  In reality I have no experience in.

I just finished one that was talking about being a good woman.  Her point was that we as women have a tendency to sabotage ourselves by not thinking there are any good men out there.  We don’t think there are good men, so why should we try to be good women. 

This section stopped me in my tracks.  “Women, when you believe that you will be unhappy until you meet a good man, and simultaneously believe that good men do not exist, you sabotage yourself. You frustrate yourself. You hinder and are hindered. You are defeated. You find that your previous actions – your time, your love, your heart, your passion, your beauty, your hope, your sacrifice, your sex, your gifts – are nullified and devastated. And when this happens, when we throw our hearts and bodies into a man less than the one we dare to hope for, the desire to be an incredible woman is slowly stripped from us.”  (Click Here to read more)

I have been struggling lately with wanting to look cute.  Yet I don’t fix my hair, I don’t wear make up and I do very little to look ‘cute’.  Yet, would I be attracted to a man who was not being the best he could be.  Now I know that my looks aren’t the important part to me.  But if I want to be fully the woman that the “good man” I deserve would want, shouldn’t I put forth a little effort?

Middle ground

Came across this blog tonight on how to tell if you are woman who fears the Lord.  (Read here, by Fabs)  It made me think of two things, how far I have come and how far I have to go.

The past few months have been a whirlwind journey of transformation as I have learned to truly trust God.  6 months ago, I did not trust Him with much.  Tonight, I trust Him with almost everything.  The reward for this process has been the peace that brings such joy to my life.  To rest in the truth that I am the beloved of the King of Kings.

On the other hand, I have so much to learn about walking in this peace.  In her blog Fabs states “True strength looks like contentment.  Do you want to know if your fear of the Lord overflows into strength?  Do you envy others?  Threads of discontentment reveal a heart that does not fully grasp the greatness and goodness of our maker.”  Contentment is something I still struggle with.  Friends buy houses and I envy their freedom to settle down.  Others have babies, I wonder how long I will be single.  They deepen relationships, I feel lost at sea uncertain where I belong. 

So much to learn, yet thankful it is all about the process. 

What do you think of the process?  What does strength in a woman look like to you?

I’m a Survivor, but I don’t want to be

I am moving on and realizing that this has to be a conscious decision.  Since the age of 10 I have been in survival mode.  Worried about the future but all I can focus on is this moment.  Constantly sprinting forward running from the past that haunts me, striving for a future that was always just out of my grasp.

I have decided it is time that I  “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” Hebrews 12:1.  This race will require perseverance and the prize is not the hill tops I used to desperately seek after.  Instead the prize is to grower closer to Christ every day and enjoy His presence in the monotony  of life.

When I started this journey, I remember one day laying down on my bed sobbing for God to help me understand.  He gave me a story I call my safe place.  Many times I have felt the last sentence resonate with me.  Never more than I do now.

I whispered “I’m scared”. He said “I know, its okay, take my hand and I will show you the way”.

The old is gone!

I think it is about time for me to let this anger go, completely and fully.  So starting today I am praying for the salvation of my dad.  What is that you say?  Big deal? BIG DEAL?!?  Yes this is a very big deal!  A few days ago, I would have preferred he rot in Hell.  But the Grace of God has been at work in my heart as well as the words of my counselor.  A week ago my counselor mentioned that she didn’t think my dad had ever learned the skills to love me the way that I needed.  So in a way he did the best he could.

This is a hard statement for me to swallow.  Part of me wants to be angry at this, but I have chosen the way of Grace instead.  It is weird to see my dad in this light since I have fed off this anger for so long.  However, as I release this anger my heart begins to ache to see my dad free of his pain. 

Each step I have taken on my spiritual journey with God, has been to remove a scar associated with my relationship with my dad.  What an important responsibility a father has towards his daughter.  He is charged with protecting her, guiding her and teaching her how to be a woman of God.  And most importantly he is her model for what her relationship with her heavenly father should be.  (Wow, what a responsibility...so glad I’m a woman!!)  Most often though the fathers are just men and despite how much they love their daughters they are still sinful creatures.

So what are we to do?  Who is to be that model for us?  In the past I chose any many who would give me momentary acceptance or love.  The new me though, who has been bathed in the love and mercy of Christ, feels content as I am.  The change is my relationship with my heavenly father.  Because I fully trust Him and can see myself as He see me I no longer ‘need’ someone to tell me who I am.   I know who I am and I am fully confident in Him.  I also trust that some day God will introduce to me that man who will encourage me, love me, and push me to become more than I am now.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” 2 Cor 5:17

Round and Round we Go

I am currently learning that life is all about the process.  The day to day struggles, fleeting moments of joy, and the monotony of life.  I hate the process and have always struggled uphill to find the mountain top and get out of the valley.  Today something changed.

A year ago this month God started a life-changing process in me, with one simple phrase.  “Every minute two children are sold into slavery”.  Every minute…every minute??  I remember a year ago as God demolished my heart with this phrase, hearing  the song Hold My Heart by Tenth Avenue North.  Each time I heard it I would sob through the chorus wondering “In this sea of pain, can the maker of the stars really see me?”  “Is He really everything I need Him to be?” After all, the processes of the last 6 years had done nothing but tear away the old, leaving me bare and afraid.

Today I came full circle with this song.  This time as the words left my lips there was no doubt that He would always hold my heart.  No doubt that He is all He says He is and more than I can ever comprehend.  As my Spirit exploded with Joy, I swear I left the car and danced with the King of Kings.

I officially love the process (remind me of this in a couple weeks, or months when He puts me in a another!)  Because of His process I am no longer the scared little girl that I was 7 years ago.  Instead, I am a woman who is confident hat my identity and my worth can only be found in Christ!

Can you hear my heart beating?

Today I had an epiphany.  Well maybe not an epiphany, but a light bulb moment any how!  I LOVE words. 

The harmony they sing as they roll off your lips.  The perfect paring that sings to the depths of your soul.  This love of mine has haunted me for years and I keep missing the train.  Stories, ideas, and random thoughts are continuously rattling around in my brain.  In the past, I have even mustered up the courage to write a few down.  But, never have I chosen to pursued this love of mine.  Until today that is.

I was minding my own business reading a friends blog when this one literally fell into my lap, (Click Here), and I swooned.  Knees buckling, heart pounding, speech dissipating swooning.  I don’t swoon!  I might find something interesting, or even get excited for a moment, but I do not swoon. 

But as the words danced on the page to the rhythm of the writers heart, my heart leapt for joy.  As the honesty in the words sunk into my soul my knees began to quiver.  And so it begins, I have fallen in love with writing. 

As I pursue this love of mine I would love your help!  What are some things you always wondered about? (like why does the Pope wear white…ooh I may have to look that up!)  What about questions you have about being a Christian.  Anything goes, leave me a comment, send me an email!  My pen (or at least my keyboard) is poised…