Answered Prayers

I find the concept of answered prayers rather allusive.  Most of my life I have thought that if I didn't pray for the "really important things" then God really didn't have time for me.  Life has taught me something quite different.

I remember a few years ago literally stopping everything I was doing and praying.  I was praying for something rather HUGE to me...but in the grand scheme of the world, it probably wasn't that big of a deal.  But again, in my world, it was everything.  I remember the prayer wasn't earth shattering.  It was simply a desperate plea for something that I wanted.  Something that, at the time, was the most important thing to me.

I can count on one hand how many times I have seen God answer prayers in my life.  Let me clarify a little.  I'm talking literally giving me exactly what I asked for.  For all intensive purposes there have actually been numerous answered prayers in my life.  Some that I have been aware of in hindsight, and some I still can't see.  However, few and far between have been literally what I asked for.  And I don't think that's a bad thing.  I know for myself, what I often ask for or even secretly desire isn't always what is best for me.  And even if it is what's "best for me", prayers often don't get answered exactly how I see fit.  But the beauty is being able to see how much better God's plan is for me.

You see that day, as I sat under a tree clinging to my cell-phone, I, along with my mom, prayed.  Prayed for not only what I wanted, but that His will be done.  I know...hefty stuff.  Because it's one thing to read about it in the Bible.  [Luke 22:42]  It's also one thing to say it.  But I was sincerely, desperately asking for something that was so important to me at the time that I had no alternative but to hand it over and trust that God would do what He saw fit.  Even bigger, I had to trust my heart with His decision.  As you might guess, my prayer that day was answered.  And I literally got what I wanted.  But I also know I learned something so valuable that day, that I'm still grappling with its implications.

As I sit here tonight, I am still in awe that once again I find myself smacked in the face with another answered prayer.  Again, this time literally what I asked for.  And I am left with this simple truth.  God truly cares about our hearts.  Nothing is too small or unimportant.

So while I'm not going to lie, I still struggle trusting that God will answer my prayers.  And I quite often question why He seems to be either ignoring me, or has other ideas of how things should be.  But what I also know, yet in my humanness often forget, is that He DOES answer prayers.  If it's important to you...it's important to Him.  He LOVES us!  It really is that simple.   Perhaps the point is actually in the asking?

But I think that's a whole other conversation.

It Was The Size Of My Face

Story Time:

Today was just like most every other day.  I drove home, came into the house and proceeded to cook dinner.  While I waited for dinner to be ready I decided to clean up my room.  After opening the blinds to my slider door I noticed a spider.  But not just any spider...one the size of face!  Ok, perhaps I am exaggerating.  But still, the sucker was huge.  And he had taken up residence on my porch.  His web spanned the area and blocked my escape out.  I know, I know, I'm being dramatic, but hang on. The story gets better.  

So, being the "brave" person I am I decided to show this spider whose house this really is.  But what the heck was I going to kill it with?  And then it hit me...a broom!  However, as brilliant as my plan was, guess where my broom was?  Yup, outside in the laundry closet, on the other side of the spider and web.  This didn't stop me though, oh no.  I recovered from this blow and realized that I have a second broom.  One I had bought to use "inside" while the other is for "outside".  My momma didn't raise no fool!  

Now, at this point perhaps I should mention that I had a support system the whole time.  Because let's face it the spider out weighed me.  The whole time I was on the phone with my sister trying to explain to her my problem and the hugeness of this spider.  She was so supportive and encouraged me to be brave.  So...I opened the slider door, took one step out and used the broom to knock the web down.  This might have been a mistake.  You see, this must have been like some sort of ninja spider.  Because he swung on the part of the web attached to his butt and landed on the door of the utility/laundry closet; just out of reach.  After recovering from my mini freak out session, I proceeded to get rid of the rest of the web.  At this point I had two options.  Leave the spider where it was and pray that it moved on in life.  Or take the broom and smack the heck out of it.  I chose option number 3.  

If you remember, I am still using my "clean" broom at this point.  And no one wants ugly spider guts all over a clean "inside" broom, right?  Right!  I took a deep breath and opened the utility/laundry closet door to get my "outside" dirty broom.  But picture this, I couldn't' just walk underneath the spider, I mean, what if it fell on my head or something.  A legit concern in my book. 

Mmmk, so side story.  As a kid I remember watching several different TV shows when we went to visit my dad and step mom.  They would cook dinner and then all four of us would sit and watch TV together.  It was nice to have that family time.  One of the shows we always watched was MacGyver.  Anyone else remember that show?  MacGyver was freakin awesome!  He could jerry-rig just about anything to defuse a situation.  And I'd like to think that because of watching that show I made it out alive today.  But I digress.   

Anyway, I managed to put my own McGyver skills to good use and I used the "clean" broom to maneuver the "dirty" broom out of the closet.  Phew...I know!  But now was the hard part.  I had to actually get the spider.  Ok, so all you non-spider people out there you will know that this isn't a task to partake in lightly.  You see, spiders can smell fear and they can also sense hesitation.  So if I was going to be successful in my task I was going to have to hit it with one blow and knock it senseless.  After a mini-pep talk from my sister I decided to go with plan B, knock it on the ground.  Yup...that was my brilliant plan.  I know, right!  Whatever...I took the broom and lightly brushed the spider off the door, or at least attempted to.  The freakin thing was still hanging onto it's web remnants.   The good news is I did manage to get it off the door, the bad news...it ran underneath the washing machine.  

Aaaah!  I was defeated.  There's no getting him now.  So I packed up my brooms and headed for shelter to regroup.  And I would like to say that my sister was very supportive at this point, but she hit me with reality..."I'm not sure why you thought hitting him with a broom would even work?!"  Um...what?  That was a brilliant plan big sister of mine.  This must be some like super ninja, genius spider.  And I was lucky to make it out alive.  

So...my plan tonight folks is to ignore the fact that he's still out there somewhere.  And ignore the fact that he has now cut me off from my washer and dryer.  Guess I'll have to go buy more underwear tomorrow.  I'm hoping that he will either come to his senses and move on in life, OR I will be more stealthy next time.  The first being the better option.  Guess we will find out in the morning.  

Wish me luck!


Oh...and here's the spider:

Shells

Change is hard.  

Ok, I know what you are thinking..."Duh, who doesn't know this?"  And you are right.  I think we hear people say that all the time, and quite frankly it becomes cliche and falls on deaf ears.  But it is a truth none-the-less.  What I find most hard about change is staying in the present.  I often focus to much on where I was.  

Let me explain.  A few years ago I began to focus on getting healthy.  Mostly because of some health issues, but also, quite frankly, I was tired of being fat.  So I began to eat differently and exercise.  Slowly, my body changed, and weight came off.  People began to treat me differently though.  People noticed me.  Compliments poured in from those close to me and also from complete strangers.  And it’s not been lost on me that guys treat me differently.  I mention this only because I find it weird to be noticed now.  So I’ve tried to convinced myself that I must be different.  That I must somehow be prettier now.  But deep down inside I still feel like the "fat girl".  And it's hard to not beat her up for being so.  You see, many of the people in my life right now never knew me at my biggest.  They’ve only seen the me now.  Mostly because I’ve gone to great lengths to hide any photo evidence.  It’s still to hard to let people see that me.   What people don’t always know is how weird it is to be treated differently when you don’t feel different.  Yes, I’ve grown and changed over the past few years. When you become healthier physically, your mental health usually follows.  Or perhaps it’s been visa-versa?  I don’t know.  I do know that I’m more positive.  Happy.  Perhaps this is what people see?  But I know I am nowhere near my goals (perhaps more on that later).  So this “new me” is often something I just don’t see.    

Change often comes at a price.  Scars.  I’m not just talking about physical ones.  Although, I do have some.  As anyone who has struggled with weight knows, stretch marks are a brutal reality.  They are often a lasting reminder of the weight we carried and the pain it caused.  But there are also deeper scars.  The ones that hide beneath the surface.  I’m not going to lie I am my worst critic.  I wished I could somehow see what others see.  I have set many goals for myself.  And while many of them focus on weight, there are several that go way beyond that.  The in-between is hard though.  While you aren’t were you were, you aren’t were you want to be.  And it’s here where the “old you” meets the “new you”.  

I think most of us would like to be known for more than just our shells.  Whether we are drop dead gorgeous or “not-so-much” (which by the way is all perspective!) all people long to be known.  To have people see beyond the outside.  I remember one time asking a dear friend what my “good” qualities were.  I remember she paused, looked at me and began to speak both gently and firmly the truths she believe about me; kind, warm, funny, generous, loving, thoughtful, strong…the list went on.  Now, please don’t misunderstand me I don’t repeat the list out of vanity.  Trust me I struggle to believe most of what she said that day.  And yet, her words pierced me.  She touched on what I so desperately want to believe…that I am more than my shell.  No matter what shape it’s in.   

So as I venture forth into this “new me”, I can’t help but want to cling to the “old”.  Sometimes I think she keeps me humble.  But mostly because the “new” is scary.  I am beginning to see beyond the scars.  But as I change I pray that I remain who I have always been.  A beautiful reflection of Him.

Broken Roads of Hope

I have this picture hanging in my room.  I like it.  It's comforting.  It's a picture about journeys.  There are many that we take in life.  Some are grand adventures filled with beauty beyond our wildest dreams.  But some, some leave us broken hearted.  Scrambling to figure out what happened, we often wander away from the very One that can give us peace; that can mend those broken pieces of our hearts.

Five years ago I went through one of the hardest moments in my life; I lost my 16 year old niece to brain cancer.  It's a loss that hit hard, and I'd like to say that I've recovered, but do you ever really recover from grief?  And while I trust that God has everything in control, I still feel the sting.  Sorrow and heartache linger.  Most days you go about your daily life, not appearing to be affected, but no day goes by without a thought sent heavenward.  Wondering, missing.

I was only ten years old when I became an aunt.  One of the perks of having a blended family.  And I can honestly say it has been one of the most honored roles of my life.  They have brought me so much joy and I'm so proud of the young men and women they have grown up to be.  (And yes, it's sorta weird to say that because I'm not that old myself!)  I have so many fond memories with each one of them; all six.  They mean the absolute world to me.  But during this time of year I feel the shadow of sadness creep up and I find myself wanting to retreat into the dark crevices of grief.  Wondering what could have been, my mind gets lost in a sea of precious memories that I hold so dear to my heart.  Thoughts of a little girl, blonde hair and a smile that could light up a room...because she did!

Like the men in the picture, I often feel like I'm on the proverbial road to Emmaus.  Trying to make sense of the things of this earth.  Humanness. The questions that plagued me five years ago are still here today.  Because sometimes life takes us down roads that we don't want to take.  Things happen that just plain suck, that don't make sense and aren't fair.  What I'm learning though, is that it's ok to feel sad and it's ok to not understand.  Grief is a process. 

So, I'm going to keep moving forward.  Trusting.  I may never get the answers that I want.  And I may never make sense of the loss.  But that's ok.  I know Jesus is here.  Just as He was five years ago.  He's never left.  And I trust that one day the tears will be wiped away, the sting of loss will be gone and I will see her again.     



*story 

A Tiny Seed

You know the old saying, ”misery loves company”, well...I often wonder if it's just not that simple.  Maybe it’s not the misery that needs the company, rather the person.  The problem with misery is its affecting.  It’s hard to be around negativity without succumbing to it eventually.  Even though deep down, I don’t think people truly mean to bring others down with them, it’s just simply easier to commiserate together than to rise above the circumstances.

Jesus talked about faith a lot.  Faith is important.  It’s what we, as humans, cling to when all else doesn’t make sense.  Faith has been likened to many things, but none so poignant as a seed.  Seeds are remarkable things.  So tiny and yet so complex; carrying all the DNA needed to create something amazing, something huge.  An acorn produces an Oak tree, a mustard seed produces a mustard plant.  Seeds have the potential to grow into something much bigger than they start out as.  In many ways negativity is like a seed.  It starts out small, almost unrecognizable.  But, if given the chance to take root it will grow into something much bigger, misery.  And just as with seeds that “growth of misery” has the potential to produce many more seeds of negativity.  

Something I have noticed is how aware you can become of the negativity around you when make the conscious effort to be happy.  It’s like you become hypersensitive to it.  Often making it even more of a challenge to not let it affect you.  Several years ago I went through a period in my life where I let my anger, frustration, and just general bad attitude take over.  I was miserable.  And it was so hard to not try and take others down with me.  Not because I wanted them to be miserable too.  Truly, that wasn’t the goal.  It was just easier than dealing with my unhappiness.  Actually, if I am honest, it was easier than letting it go.  Sometimes I think we wear our anger and hurt like a badge of honor.  As if the world owes us because we have suffered some great injustice.  But is discontent an injustice?  Perhaps it’s a pride thing?   

Today was a challenge.  I feel like I’ve headed right into a lions den and boy are the lions miserable and angry.  But I’m determined to not succumb.  I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that I’ve grown an “Oak tree of misery” because I let all the negativity take root.  There’s always going to be negative people around.  Some days it might even be me.  But the thing I am learning is it’s all a choice.  You can choose to be angry, bitter and negative or you can choose to happy.  Choosing happiness doesn’t mean that you won’t have bad days.  It doesn’t mean that problems won’t come your way.  And it certainly doesn't mean you won't have low points; days in which you yourself feel that twinge of misery.  It’s just that if you allow a different seed to take root you will find that it can grow into something much more powerful…HOPE. 

A "Funny" Little Tale

Setting:
Location- Whole Foods
Time- today after work

Story:

Man what a week this has been.  I feel like I hit the ground running starting on Monday, and just haven't stopped.  So to say that I am exhausted is an understatement.  I decided to stop by Whole Foods on the way home, because let's face it, cooking was not going to happen tonight.  Upon entering the store I grabbed a basket and proceeded down a few isles looking for something easy to fix for dinner.  Naturally I got stuck in the chip isle...who doesn't when they are hungry?  After hemming and hawing over which one I shouldn't buy I reached for a bag of classic potato chips.  They must have just packed in the new shipment because I didn't just get one bag...in fact several bags fell to the ground.  I proceeded to pick up the chips, hopping no one saw my little mishap and went about my business.  I slowly made my way over the produce isle hoping to find something healthy to balance out my chip purchase.  As I walked in circles for who knows how long I settled on apples.  I know, weird combo, but again super tired and was lucky I was standing up right at that point.  I figured I'd get a couple so I had a few for the weekend.  But just like the chip isle I got more than I bargained for.  Unfortunately that time, a young man who works there came over and helped me pick up all the apples that fell on the floor.  So with a beet red face, I'm sure, I thanked him and scurried on my way.  

Before I got into the store I had silently reminded myself that I needed to get cash back.  I never carry cash but needed some for Monday.  Once I made it to the register my mind was elsewhere and I only remembered after I had almost completed my transaction.  Now the guy behind the register was all of twelve and the store was quite busy at that point, so I should have just counted my losses and moved on.  But instead, I stopped mid-way and said, "Oops, I meant to get cash back."  He smiled and said let me cancel your transaction and you can start over.  Awesome!  Ha, if it were only that simple.  After he politely canceled my transaction I attempted to pay again.  Only this time instead of asking for $10 cash, I ended up asking for 10 cents.  Yup, a whole whopping 10 cents.  I realized my mistake but it was too late at that point.  The young man proceeded to hand me the 10 cents with a weird look on his face and I apologized trying to explain my mistake.  He proceeded to tell me that there was an ATM around the corner and was pretty much ready to move on from the "crazy lady who can't work a simple electronic payment machine".  I'm positive he was thinking I was a complete idiot.  His face said it all!

So before I could embarrass myself anymore I booked it for the door.

Moral of the story:

Don't go to the store when you are so tired you probably seem drunk!

Hindsight

"I have learned that faith means trusting in advance what will only make sense in reverse"  - Philip Yancey 

I came across this quote the other day and haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Oh, how true these words are.  However the journey to get to that place of "making sense" of it all can be made up of moments of joy and moments of incredible pain.  I don't pretend to profess to have the hardest life.  I truly have been incredibly blessed and very fortunate.  However, like most people life doesn't always deal the "good cards".  Sometimes you are asked to climb mountains you don't think are possible.  Tested beyond belief.  And too often it's so easy to get stuck even when on the other side of things.  It's like you don't really know what to do with yourself.  You've just been to battle and in so many ways you've won, but there's a piece of you that's lost to the battle.  You feel beat up and bruised.  Months later.  Sometimes even years.  Wondering if you'll ever recover or are you forever altered?

I've often liken my journey of faith to a boxing ring.  Just imagine you are in the arena, the crowd is cheering, and you have no idea for who.  You're getting suited up, gloves on and out of the corner of your eye you see your opponent.  Jesus.  And He's just the man you want to see.  You've got a bone to pick with Him actually.  Life hasn't been going your way, you've been bruised, battered, your heart stabbed by loss and pain, and He's supposedly the one person that can fix that.  Or at least this is what you've been told.  I mean He's God after all.  All powerful, right?  If He only truly knew what you'd been through, how hurt you've been, perhaps He would relieve the burden...even prevent further pain from coming along?  So armed with your “righteous”, at least in your opinion, anger you enter the ring.  Convinced, mostly out of stupidity, that you can actually take Him on.  Yes, I used the word stupid here, but I'm not using it in the way that perhaps it would seem.  So...let me stop here and clarify whilst giving some back story.

I grew up in a christian home.  I don't remember a time when Jesus wasn't mentioned, a meal that wasn't prayed over and church was attended faithfully every Sunday.  I remember going to Sunday school and church camps every summer, feeling as though I was solid in my faith.  My foundation was firm.  However, it wasn't until I went away to college that I began to take a good look at that foundation.  And slowly I began to explore and question what it was that I really believed in.  I should emphasize the word slowly.  Because it really was a slow process up until about seven years ago.  As I look back two things strike me as interesting.  One, had you known me all those years ago, you'd know I never would have even entertained the notion of getting into the ring with God.  You just don't challenge God.  Not to mention, like I said, I thought my foundation was pretty solid.  Two, it was one seemingly harmless decision, all those years ago, that changed that notion.  What has followed has been nothing but gloriously messy unstable ground. 

Ok so why did I say stupid?  Because the mistake I often find myself making is that Jesus doesn't already know the pain I've buried deep inside my wounds.  You see, He knows every part of me.  He knows every wound, every scar, every fear that drives me into that ring.  He knows the pain.  I believe it's what drove Him to the cross all those years ago.  He LOVES me.  Anger and all.  There isn't a thing I can do to change that.  Which is good news!  It's something that has taken a lifetime {and I'm still learning} to recognize, the last seven being a catalyst.  In fact as I look back I believe He wanted me to get into the ring.  Honestly, it's been in those “knock em' out fights" that I've come to see Truth.  Love.  Exposing all my hurts and fears has allowed a freedom that I never knew possible.  While I believe that God is a gentleman and will never push His way into our hearts.  I have no trouble believing that He will use any means to poke and prod us into engaging with Him.  To get us to turn toward Him and start getting personal.  Real.  He wants a relationship.  Dialogue.  Does He want us hurt?  NO.  Does He cause bad things to happen?  I don't believe that.  What I do believe is that what was intended for harm can be used for good.  God good.  He's weaving a beautiful masterpiece in life.

So...here's where I find myself at today.  Once again in the ring with Jesus.  Attempting to challenge all that I thought I knew.  Exposing myself once again.  And as I prepare to take yet another swing I can see Him stretch out His nail-scared hands, whispering..."I know.  It's ok.  I love you.  I'm still here.  And everything is going to be alright.”