Good luck getting through this one...

1. Sorry I've been slacking. It's been an interesting couple of weeks...no time to gather my thoughts enough to write them down. The end.
2. I miss the Deep South...deep down ache and long for it. The smell, the land, the people. I had a dream last night that I was in this unnamed smallish Southern town and my heart was so full I could hardly stand it. Then Preacher Man was standing beside me telling me that we had to go. And my heart hurt so bad at the thought of leaving such a wonderful place. Must I have those feelings in my dreams, too?
3. I had a conversation with this guy the other day. Okay actually I just listened while he had a conversation with my coworker who actually has other friends here. Anyway, he sings - like woah sings. So a friend of his asked him to come sing at the church where he's now the Music Pastor. So ole boy who grew up here in this rather large and diverse city went to a smaller church in Tennessee. Not very super small...just smaller. And this is what he said, "Ya know, it was nice. Just one of those churches where everyone is the same and they all wear a lot of floral." Here's the thing - I get what he was saying. He wasn't being ugly. He was just noticing. He even said that and said it was great for his friend but, "I wouldn't be happy there." That's how he ended it. Well that got me to thinking. He definitely wouldn't be happy there. He's served jail time and has tattoos and loves hanging out with the homeless and downtrodden which is a very cool thing. But those people in their floral love Jesus, too. And maybe they reach a different group - the kind that wear a lot of camo and shoot guns and stuff. Or the kind that just need to be loved on because they live far away from their families. I don't know. I just think that I might could have been happy there. Maybe even happier there than here. Because some people love diversity. And I appreciate it...I really do. But other cultures don't fascinate me and I don't think that learning to speak another language is the best thing since sliced bread. I absolutely think you should reach out to all nations and all tongues - but what about THIS nation and THIS tongue??? I don't know. I'm wrestling with it.
4. I'm sick and tired of feeling like a slacker because I have not yet learned the other language Preacher Man speaks, which happens to be Portuguese. In a few days some of his friends who ALL speak Portuguese will be coming to visit and they will all ask, as they did a year and a half ago, "Your wife hasn't learned Portuguese yet?!" And Preacher Man will say, "No. She needs to though. I got her this learn to speak Portuguese program for her birthday but she hasn't used it yet." And they will look at me and say, "Oh...you have to learn!" And I will smile and nod and say, "Yeah I know," all the whilel thinking, "Why? Why do I HAVE to learn? Leave me the stink alone, okay?"
5. My whole family is going to have a big fun time in Branson for Thanksgiving. I'm going to stay here with a bunch of people I don't know that well and eat turkey [not fried] which I'm not really that crazy about. And people will try to make me feel better by distracting me and trying to form some sort of make-shift family for me but the truth is, I don't want another family. I like mine just fine thank you very much. I want to be closer to them. Father, I am begging you to let me live closer to them.

It's Not Enough

Hello to my peeps. Once again, sorry for the absence. I'm working through some things. I don't really know how to put it all into words right this second, but in order to work through these things, I am required to put forth a great deal of effort, which I never like to do. Or I only like to do it on my terms when I'm in the mood. That's so incredibly vague. Sorry.

I love the part where I get to love Jesus and we hold hands and skip together down a very sunny road lined with the most beautiful wildflowers ever. Then we stop skipping and He asks me to do something gut-wrenching. He promises that after I have done the gut-wrenching thing, we will resume our skipping. He'll hold my hand the entire time, He promises. And I really do believe Him. But what He's asking my to do has me standing there on the sunshine covered road, holding Jesus' hand, frozen in fear. Have you ever experienced anything like that? Something you really don't want to do, but you know you have to do it - so you keep delaying it and the longer you delay it the more petrified you become until that fearful feeling creeps into other areas of your body/life until you cannot function normally? And I keep looking up at Jesus' beautiful face hoping that He'll say, "It's okay. You don't have to do it", and we'll laugh and smile and resume our skipping, but instead He just stands there looking at me, lovingly, oh yes, but expectantly as well. Death to the old self. He's asking me to obedient. And we've been standing there for a long time now. And we haven't really talked because He's just waiting for me to step out and do it. But I begin to loosen my hand from His - the very touch of His skin makes me feel uneasy. He doesn't stop me because He doesn't work that way, but He keeps looking at me, waiting patiently. I can't look at Him anymore. I feel too ashamed. And then, because I haven't looked at Him in so long, I begin to wonder if He's really still there. And I start to forget what it was He wanted me to do. And for a little while I'm just glad that the fear is gone, but then a certain discontentment sinks in. I feel so useless, worthless, and wimpy. So I look all around me. Everywhere, hoping to find a glimmer of hope. The road looks kinda cloudy now and the wildflowers are beginning to wilt and I'm not even sure that I remember how to skip. Then I catch the smallest movement out of the corner of my eye, and I look up. He's still standing there in all His bright and shining joy-inducing glory, looking at me so sweetly. Waiting for me to be obedient because He has so many great things to show me further down the road. And I remember the thing He wanted me to do. And the petrified feeling comes back. I know that I have to make a choice. I miss holding His hand so much, but if I reach up to grab it, I will HAVE to do the thing. Because I can't reclaim that intimacy and not do the thing. His love beckons me to obedience. So I try to hold my hand as close to His as I possibly can without actually touching Him, hoping that this will be enough.

It's not enough.

I have to do the thing.

A "Thing" I'm thinking about doing...

Job 6:11 – What strength do I have that I should still have hope?

I unlock the door to my empty house and drop my bags – purse, laptop, lunchbox – in their proper spots after yet another long, unfulfilling day of work. I walk into the kitchen to begin another evening of mindless, draining chores. I unload the dishwasher, my mind filled with thoughts of what else needs to be done before I can crawl into the bed and escape for a few hours. As I am wiping down the cabinet, scrubbing off jelly stains and bread crumbs left from the rapid morning exodus, suddenly I just can’t do it anymore. I leave the jelly rag sitting on the counter and dazedly walk back to my bedroom. I pause, looking at my pretty, made bed with throw pillows built up in mounds upon it. It is my sacred place – the only place where I can escape the monotony of my life. I carefully move just a few of the throw pillows over, crawl beneath the covers, careful to disturb as little of my sacred place as possible. Beneath the heavy comforter and tucked in sheets, overshadowed by the pillow mound, I wish that I could just sink into another world, one that does not look or feel anything like my real world.

I feel as though I will never be able to get up again. I’m so tired. Not physically. Maybe not even mentally. But emotionally and oh yes, spiritually, I am so tired I don’t think I can live one more day of the life that I have somehow ended up with. How different it is than the one I imagined! I was going to do great things. I try to remember what they were but I cannot, or will not, because I don’t really believe in dreams anymore. That’s what it means to be a woman living a grown-up life – you stop believing in dreams and fantasies and get right down to business. Doing the things that need to be done.

I discovered that marriage really isn’t that romantic. And I felt silly for ever believing that it was. I realized that having a baby didn’t make me feel needed or important. And I felt ashamed of myself for buying into such a lie. I found that being a teacher didn’t really change the lives of children – it just helped them pass tests. And I was angry that anyone ever let me believe I could make a difference. So now I don’t believe anymore. I just live. And I try to be kind to people. And take good care of my family. And laugh when I can.

But I’m so tired of living without hope. I miss dreaming. But I can’t risk it – because when it doesn’t come true, I will find myself broken beyond repair. Numb is better than broken, I think. What strength do I have that I should still have hope?


Have you been here? You, no doubt, had different hopes and dreams that were dashed by reality, but have you been here? Feeling so hopeless that you don’t think you can take another emotional step forward? Maybe not outwardly. You still read your Bible and pray and raise your hands in worship and believe in Jesus. But inwardly – in YOUR sacred place, have you felt the panic of hopelessness? Have you thought, is this REALLY all there is to life? Well, sister, if you have been here, I have spectacular news! I know someone who IS Hope – His very presence breeds and strengthens that feeling you had as a little girl – the feeling, no the unfaltering belief, that someday you would be spectacularly swept off your feet and whisked away to a beautiful castle where you would do things and live a life that mattered. There is hope! Join me on the journey as we discover how to attain and retain that hope.


This is the opening for a "thing" I'm thinking about doing. Is it enticing?