Reflection: Moving to Oklahoma was a dreaded moment in my life. I was in the middle of high school and I wanted to graduate with my friends. But one thing I can say about that move was that it definitely saved my life. It got me out of the prison I had been put in and caused me to realize there was more to this life and that I had been set free that day from those guys for a reason......to live.
Oklahoma is flat. If you live here, I'm sure you've recognized this description of our landscape before. It is sparsely populated with trees that all lean one direction due to the heavy winds during tornado season. It is covered, and I mean COVERED, in red dirt that is impossible to get off of you, and it has a lot of cattle. A lot.
Once we moved to Mustang and started school, we were going to Mustang Assembly of God. I went from a youth group of 15 to 250. It was an overwhelming experience, but I learned so much. I quickly became so involved that I was there almost daily. I carried my Bible with me to school, clad in my WWJD? bracelet and my Crossfire sticker. I felt official. Once again I was building walls that were of things I thought would keep me safe, but they didn't. The church can help keep you safe if you allow God to be the Savior.
Reflection: I thought using my friends and my church as a fortress would help me get past all of my hurts. I still never said a word about what happened to me and I still thought it would go away. That if I could fill my heart, mind and time with something else, I would forget. The thing about evil is that it roots itself into your life and it isn't going to go away until you face it head-on.
I loved my youth group. When I was at church, I was free to be someone other than who I truly was. I immersed myself in every aspect of the church, using it as a shield. It became like my gang affiliation. A badge I wore on the outside of my walls that I felt would protect me.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Tour The Prison: My Parole Officer
I stabbed myself when I was sixteen years old, and I think it was enough to scare me and wake me up to know that I needed help. Having waited so long to admit that to myself, let alone to anyone else, I really didn't know where to start. As I've stated before, my father was in the Coast Guard, and we were scheduled to move from Ketchikan, Alaska to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. Little did I know that the summer of 1997 would hold many changes for me. One of the very last things I did with my friends in Alaska, was to go to a retreat with my youth group.
Sitting amongst many other students and taking notes like the role of the good little church girl that I portrayed, I was only half listening to what the preacher said. However, when the room became silent, I took notice, looking up to see him standing near me, looking straight at me. I looked around to try to figure out what I had missed when he told me to tell him I was beautiful. I wanted to laugh, to mock him for such an outlandish statement, but I was stunned into silence. I barely peeped out an, "I can't." He gave me his command again, and I accompanied it with the same answer. I didn't really understand what this man wanted from me. I began to get upset and angry for him putting me in such an awkward position, but he kept giving his commands. I finally stood up and said, "I can't, so please stop!" He had me move into the aisle so he was directly in front of me, and said, "I was preaching when God laid upon my heart that I needed to speak to you and that He needs to hear this from you."
Reflection: Now, looking back, I honestly don't remember what my inward feelings about this were, but I imagine I was quite shocked. But what he was saying to me was having an effect, and for so long I had these walls up, and here they were beginning to crumble.
You could've heard a pin drop so quiet the room was as I said, "I can't tell you I'm beautiful because I'm not. I'm covered in sin and shame and not worthy." Tears coursed down his face as he said, "Oh, but you are. I can see the burdens that you bear. They are so heavy upon you that you don't even stand up straight. But they are not yours to carry, place them at His feet and allow Him to carry YOU."
Reflection: I'm sure for a normal person, a person that trusts and yet still is hurting, this would be a relief, yet this man was challenging all I had built. Everything I had made to keep myself safe and he was telling me to give it up, to hand my life over to the One that had truly kept me safe all of these years. I've never blamed God for anything in my life, but this was a challenge to me, and it made me angry.
"If you see the burdens that I have, then surely you see the hurt, the anger, the confusion, the pain, and then after that, surely you see the sin and shame. I cannot tell you that I am beautiful, because I'm not." I've never seen such mercy and grace in someone's eyes before. I may have been crying before, but I was nearly hysterical at that. As though it was literally Jesus standing before me waiting for my answer, I felt this amazing peace sweep over the room. The room still held several hundred silent students, but I paid them no mind. "I can't tell you that I'm beautiful, I just can't.", I stated as I fell to the floor. He met me at the floor and said, "Tell me that you're beautiful. God gave His only Son so that He could cover you in His blood, His mercy, His grace, and it can be yours."
I couldn't do it. I couldn't say those words because I didn't believe them. On a bad day, I still don't. I don't remember much beyond that point because I cried for hours. I do know that I never told him what he wanted to hear, however, he had unknowingly unlocked a part of me that aided in tearing walls down and allowing God in. God gave Him a word, he listened, and he handed me a key to unlock the pain in my heart. I am forever indebted to him and I have three words that he has been waiting years to hear from me. I may not be perfect or beautiful by society's standards, but I am God's masterpiece and I am beautiful.
Two weeks later, my family and I moved to Oklahoma, and God began to change my life drastically.
Sitting amongst many other students and taking notes like the role of the good little church girl that I portrayed, I was only half listening to what the preacher said. However, when the room became silent, I took notice, looking up to see him standing near me, looking straight at me. I looked around to try to figure out what I had missed when he told me to tell him I was beautiful. I wanted to laugh, to mock him for such an outlandish statement, but I was stunned into silence. I barely peeped out an, "I can't." He gave me his command again, and I accompanied it with the same answer. I didn't really understand what this man wanted from me. I began to get upset and angry for him putting me in such an awkward position, but he kept giving his commands. I finally stood up and said, "I can't, so please stop!" He had me move into the aisle so he was directly in front of me, and said, "I was preaching when God laid upon my heart that I needed to speak to you and that He needs to hear this from you."
Reflection: Now, looking back, I honestly don't remember what my inward feelings about this were, but I imagine I was quite shocked. But what he was saying to me was having an effect, and for so long I had these walls up, and here they were beginning to crumble.
You could've heard a pin drop so quiet the room was as I said, "I can't tell you I'm beautiful because I'm not. I'm covered in sin and shame and not worthy." Tears coursed down his face as he said, "Oh, but you are. I can see the burdens that you bear. They are so heavy upon you that you don't even stand up straight. But they are not yours to carry, place them at His feet and allow Him to carry YOU."
Reflection: I'm sure for a normal person, a person that trusts and yet still is hurting, this would be a relief, yet this man was challenging all I had built. Everything I had made to keep myself safe and he was telling me to give it up, to hand my life over to the One that had truly kept me safe all of these years. I've never blamed God for anything in my life, but this was a challenge to me, and it made me angry.
"If you see the burdens that I have, then surely you see the hurt, the anger, the confusion, the pain, and then after that, surely you see the sin and shame. I cannot tell you that I am beautiful, because I'm not." I've never seen such mercy and grace in someone's eyes before. I may have been crying before, but I was nearly hysterical at that. As though it was literally Jesus standing before me waiting for my answer, I felt this amazing peace sweep over the room. The room still held several hundred silent students, but I paid them no mind. "I can't tell you that I'm beautiful, I just can't.", I stated as I fell to the floor. He met me at the floor and said, "Tell me that you're beautiful. God gave His only Son so that He could cover you in His blood, His mercy, His grace, and it can be yours."
I couldn't do it. I couldn't say those words because I didn't believe them. On a bad day, I still don't. I don't remember much beyond that point because I cried for hours. I do know that I never told him what he wanted to hear, however, he had unknowingly unlocked a part of me that aided in tearing walls down and allowing God in. God gave Him a word, he listened, and he handed me a key to unlock the pain in my heart. I am forever indebted to him and I have three words that he has been waiting years to hear from me. I may not be perfect or beautiful by society's standards, but I am God's masterpiece and I am beautiful.
Two weeks later, my family and I moved to Oklahoma, and God began to change my life drastically.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Tour The Prison: Sentenced to Life
If you would've asked me what depression meant, at the age of nine, I wouldn't have known. I did, however, feel depressed, I just didn't know it had a name. Sad, scared and lonely is how I spent the next several years of my life. I made friends and started to emerge from that cocoon of fear. I was all about attention. For someone that had been hurt in such a horrific way, you would think I wouldn't want a watchful eye on me, but I felt that if all eyes were on me, I was somehow more safe.
I fell into a dangerous web of self-abuse. I would inflict wounds upon myself to try to ease the inner pain. I cut myself on my inner thighs and under my arms. I stabbed myself with my earrings and hit myself with anything metal that would leave a mark. Sometimes it was the weights I had to lift, or the rubberbands that I did physical therapy with. My curling iron always left marks, and then I would wrap my arm up with some story about how I had hurt myself.
Reflection: I can look back and see God's hand in my life everywhere, because there are so many instances that most people would call coincidence and they are to numerous to count. I don't believe in chances, circumstances or coincidences. I believe in God, and that belief never left me, no matter what.
This abuse went on for a few years and then it got to the point that what I was doing wasn't enough. One night while my family was sleeping, I slipped downstairs and swallowed an entire bottle of pills. I never intended on taking my life, but I didn't look to see what the prescription was. I just needed to hurt myself more. I wanted to hurt like I had that day so many years before so that maybe I could take it all back; maybe it would just all go away. I'm very blessed that whatever I took was something that only caused me to vomit, and didn't cause any more harm.
At the time, my mother was a teacher and my father was still in the Coast Guard. My Mom had a meeting after school and left me instructions to put in a frozen pizza for my brother and myself. As I pulled it out of the oven, I grabbed a large knife instead of the pizza cutter and without another thought, I plunged it into my stomach. Now, mind you, my Mom was supposed to be at a meeting, but just as that knife broke my skin, I heard the crunching of gravel beneath tires. I looked up to see my Mom, whose meeting had been cancelled. I threw the knife in the sink and ran to the bathroom, cleaned it up, and it's my only reminder that I still have today of the hell I lived through.
I was trapped inside of myself; a prisoner with my own man-made walls, and I needed a reprieve.
I fell into a dangerous web of self-abuse. I would inflict wounds upon myself to try to ease the inner pain. I cut myself on my inner thighs and under my arms. I stabbed myself with my earrings and hit myself with anything metal that would leave a mark. Sometimes it was the weights I had to lift, or the rubberbands that I did physical therapy with. My curling iron always left marks, and then I would wrap my arm up with some story about how I had hurt myself.
Reflection: I can look back and see God's hand in my life everywhere, because there are so many instances that most people would call coincidence and they are to numerous to count. I don't believe in chances, circumstances or coincidences. I believe in God, and that belief never left me, no matter what.
This abuse went on for a few years and then it got to the point that what I was doing wasn't enough. One night while my family was sleeping, I slipped downstairs and swallowed an entire bottle of pills. I never intended on taking my life, but I didn't look to see what the prescription was. I just needed to hurt myself more. I wanted to hurt like I had that day so many years before so that maybe I could take it all back; maybe it would just all go away. I'm very blessed that whatever I took was something that only caused me to vomit, and didn't cause any more harm.
At the time, my mother was a teacher and my father was still in the Coast Guard. My Mom had a meeting after school and left me instructions to put in a frozen pizza for my brother and myself. As I pulled it out of the oven, I grabbed a large knife instead of the pizza cutter and without another thought, I plunged it into my stomach. Now, mind you, my Mom was supposed to be at a meeting, but just as that knife broke my skin, I heard the crunching of gravel beneath tires. I looked up to see my Mom, whose meeting had been cancelled. I threw the knife in the sink and ran to the bathroom, cleaned it up, and it's my only reminder that I still have today of the hell I lived through.
I was trapped inside of myself; a prisoner with my own man-made walls, and I needed a reprieve.
Tour The Prison: The First Night
Even at the age of nine, I had still seen plenty of Lifetime movies with my mother. You know, some cute guy sees a pretty girl, charms her, marries her, beats her, she leaves him and he kills her. They're all the same, just different pretty faces and names. I had also seen many rape victims stay victim all of their lives, and I refused for that to happen. I was scared and lonely, hurting and I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing. I didn't want to be "Poor little Michele, rape victim." for the rest of my life, so I stuck with the story my friends told, the one where I was chased by Andrea and her friends.
The probelm with one lie is that it spirals out of control and becomes multiple lies. I wasn't okay. I was scared, I was scarred, I was merely a shell of my former self. What was taken from me that day was some of the most valuable things a person can have. I didn't trust anyone, certainly not myself. I wasn't racist, I know abuse knows no gender, race, age, etc. I dreaded going anywhere, I always wanted to stay with a group.
I know what it's like to scrub your skin until it bleeds. I know what it's like to scream and not hear your own voice. I know what it's like to look in the mirror and see nothing. The worst feeling in the world is lying in your own bed wishing for your own death, because you know the pain of that would be much easier than the daily pain you walk with. What those guys stole from me that day was irreplaceable. What they did was horrid, unfair and a punishment I didn't deserve.
In the years after my rape I was like a caterpillar stuck in a caccoon. I would wake up drenched in sweat, barely able to breathe, feeling like I was pinned down, but knowing that I wasn't. I hate the smell of fresh cut grass, the smell of sweat still makes me gag, and the heat has caused me to panic on many occassions. The worst thing I ever did was stay silent about what happened to me. I needed help, I just didn't realize it at the time. In my child-like mind that originially trusted too much, I felt like I would be treated like an invalid, and I was so scared no one would believe me, that silence seemed like the best option.
Freedom costs, as does restriction. I wish I would've known at that moment how much restriction would cost me.
The probelm with one lie is that it spirals out of control and becomes multiple lies. I wasn't okay. I was scared, I was scarred, I was merely a shell of my former self. What was taken from me that day was some of the most valuable things a person can have. I didn't trust anyone, certainly not myself. I wasn't racist, I know abuse knows no gender, race, age, etc. I dreaded going anywhere, I always wanted to stay with a group.
I know what it's like to scrub your skin until it bleeds. I know what it's like to scream and not hear your own voice. I know what it's like to look in the mirror and see nothing. The worst feeling in the world is lying in your own bed wishing for your own death, because you know the pain of that would be much easier than the daily pain you walk with. What those guys stole from me that day was irreplaceable. What they did was horrid, unfair and a punishment I didn't deserve.
In the years after my rape I was like a caterpillar stuck in a caccoon. I would wake up drenched in sweat, barely able to breathe, feeling like I was pinned down, but knowing that I wasn't. I hate the smell of fresh cut grass, the smell of sweat still makes me gag, and the heat has caused me to panic on many occassions. The worst thing I ever did was stay silent about what happened to me. I needed help, I just didn't realize it at the time. In my child-like mind that originially trusted too much, I felt like I would be treated like an invalid, and I was so scared no one would believe me, that silence seemed like the best option.
Freedom costs, as does restriction. I wish I would've known at that moment how much restriction would cost me.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Tour The Prison: Intake
If you're alive, you have breath and a heartbeat. If that breath has ever been taken away or that heart has ever stopped, even for a moment, you have a testimony. Our lives are filled with moments of pain or decisions that clear us of everything we always believed we were and leave us with the shell of who we thought we were.
When I was nine years old I was living in Memphis, Tennessee and going to an all black school where I was the minority. Having never noticed the difference between people, I paid no mind and tried my best to make friends anyway. I had a girl in my class, Andrea, that had it out for me, and I'll never understand why. She and her friends would tease and torment me in class and I tried to ignore them. One day after school I was heading to the spot to meet my brother and other kids we walked home together with when the books and papers currently in my hands went flying in the air and landed scattered on the floor. As I hurriedly bent to scoop them up, Andrea and her friends were kicking at me and teasing me, and I took off running with them trailing close behind. I passed the spot where I was to meet everyone and I didn't stop running. Raleigh Egypt Elementary was very close to the high school and we had to pass the track to get home. Oftentimes on hot days, our parents would take us out there in the evening to play around. As I continued my escape my side started to hurt and I was nearing the track, so I slowed down, let my backpack fall and bent over to catch my breath.
I never saw them coming. I never knew that a fraction of a second of not being aware could change your life forever. The next thing I know my things are being taken from me and I'm slammed against a hot brick wall by two black male high school students. I was held there by my hair while they both raped me, with their girlfriends sitting on the bleachers casually flipping through magazines. I know what it's like to choke on your own vomit and scream out in pain and fear and not have anyone hear you because your voice is barely audible. It's been twenty-two years and I can still smell the fresh cut grass, feel the heat of the brick on my back and smell the sweat of their bodies so much so that it causes me to gag.
Once my mouth was uncovered, I begged them to let me go because my brother and friends would be by soon, and just when I thought my life was over and hell would be where I remained, a look of sincerity crossed one of their faces and he handed me my backpack. I ran. I ran like my life depended it, and I barely beat everyone home. I went straight to the bathroom, cried, tried to figure out what had just happened, and told my Mom that I had gotten in a fight. My friends backed that up because they saw Andrea and her friends chasing me.
We never walked to school alone again.
When I was nine years old I was living in Memphis, Tennessee and going to an all black school where I was the minority. Having never noticed the difference between people, I paid no mind and tried my best to make friends anyway. I had a girl in my class, Andrea, that had it out for me, and I'll never understand why. She and her friends would tease and torment me in class and I tried to ignore them. One day after school I was heading to the spot to meet my brother and other kids we walked home together with when the books and papers currently in my hands went flying in the air and landed scattered on the floor. As I hurriedly bent to scoop them up, Andrea and her friends were kicking at me and teasing me, and I took off running with them trailing close behind. I passed the spot where I was to meet everyone and I didn't stop running. Raleigh Egypt Elementary was very close to the high school and we had to pass the track to get home. Oftentimes on hot days, our parents would take us out there in the evening to play around. As I continued my escape my side started to hurt and I was nearing the track, so I slowed down, let my backpack fall and bent over to catch my breath.
I never saw them coming. I never knew that a fraction of a second of not being aware could change your life forever. The next thing I know my things are being taken from me and I'm slammed against a hot brick wall by two black male high school students. I was held there by my hair while they both raped me, with their girlfriends sitting on the bleachers casually flipping through magazines. I know what it's like to choke on your own vomit and scream out in pain and fear and not have anyone hear you because your voice is barely audible. It's been twenty-two years and I can still smell the fresh cut grass, feel the heat of the brick on my back and smell the sweat of their bodies so much so that it causes me to gag.
Once my mouth was uncovered, I begged them to let me go because my brother and friends would be by soon, and just when I thought my life was over and hell would be where I remained, a look of sincerity crossed one of their faces and he handed me my backpack. I ran. I ran like my life depended it, and I barely beat everyone home. I went straight to the bathroom, cried, tried to figure out what had just happened, and told my Mom that I had gotten in a fight. My friends backed that up because they saw Andrea and her friends chasing me.
We never walked to school alone again.
Tour The Prison
I have decided it is high time to start giving my testimony. Therefore, if you're reading this, you are looking directly into my soul. Some of it may shock you, some of it may make you angry, hurt or sad, but nevertheless, this is me, and this is my story. I am not looking for opinions, I am just looking to share all I have gone through over the past few decades of my life. My prayer is that it touches someone's heart, because I know I am here for a purpose.
Before I started recovery, I was writing in my journal one night and I traced my hands. Inside of them I wrote, "Someday these hands will touch the lives of many." And I pray that happens.
God Bless,
Chele
Before I started recovery, I was writing in my journal one night and I traced my hands. Inside of them I wrote, "Someday these hands will touch the lives of many." And I pray that happens.
God Bless,
Chele
Monday, March 5, 2012
How I Walk
Through my entire life, I have learned much about faith and it's friends, mercy, grace, forgiveness, etc. Recently, I have been asked several times how I can still stand after being down so many times, be it by my own mistakes causing me to stumble or by being pushed to the ground. No matter what, my answer is always the same........faith. By faith I shall prevail.
Faith gave me the strength and ability to rise and walk through a life of silence and hurt.
Faith gave me forgiveness and changed me into a new person. And one that is silent no more.
Faith gave me the strength to handle the obstacles that came my way with moving and leaving friends and family behind. The best part was, I probably wouldn't be as close to any of them today if it wasn't for that.
Faith gave me the strength to set my own selfish needs aside and remember that God and my girls are number one and that the rest of my life is a long time.
Faith gave me mercy when I didn't think I could make it when the doctor said, "I'm sorry, but there is no more baby."
Faith gave me the strength, grace, mercy and forgiveness when I hurt my good friend to what seemed beyond repair. When I had to take lessons in humility and learn alot about myself. When I had to find new ground to stand on and find a new friendship, which I think could be better than before.......faith was there.
Faith gives me strength to stand against those who oppose me and seem it fitting to 'hit me with their best shot'.
Faith gives me forgiveness when I say or think something that is hurtful and rude to someone else because my flesh rises up in me.
Faith gives me strength, mercy and grace when my phone rings and a girl is on the other end who thinks she can't make it another day and all she needs is someone to listen.
Faith gives me strength on those days when I feel I've failed Him, on the days I get tired of staring at my white walls and I'm not counting my blessings, during the times I feel I've been failed and when I think that nothing seems to be going my way.
Faith reminds me of the strength, mercy, grace, forgiveness, love, wisdom, integrity, dignity and other attributes that my God has bestowed upon me because I am His daughter. I may not always see it and people may not always agree with it, but God does, and I am His and He is mine. There are so many things I have not understood, and yet, through it all, God has always been faithful! Just like Mama Erin has told me for years now......."Keep your head held high and walk in the grace and dignity God gave you. If you do, when you walk through the fire, you won't be burned, and in the end, the truth will always set you free."
And so I shall continue to walk......
Faith gave me the strength and ability to rise and walk through a life of silence and hurt.
Faith gave me forgiveness and changed me into a new person. And one that is silent no more.
Faith gave me the strength to handle the obstacles that came my way with moving and leaving friends and family behind. The best part was, I probably wouldn't be as close to any of them today if it wasn't for that.
Faith gave me the strength to set my own selfish needs aside and remember that God and my girls are number one and that the rest of my life is a long time.
Faith gave me mercy when I didn't think I could make it when the doctor said, "I'm sorry, but there is no more baby."
Faith gave me the strength, grace, mercy and forgiveness when I hurt my good friend to what seemed beyond repair. When I had to take lessons in humility and learn alot about myself. When I had to find new ground to stand on and find a new friendship, which I think could be better than before.......faith was there.
Faith gives me strength to stand against those who oppose me and seem it fitting to 'hit me with their best shot'.
Faith gives me forgiveness when I say or think something that is hurtful and rude to someone else because my flesh rises up in me.
Faith gives me strength, mercy and grace when my phone rings and a girl is on the other end who thinks she can't make it another day and all she needs is someone to listen.
Faith gives me strength on those days when I feel I've failed Him, on the days I get tired of staring at my white walls and I'm not counting my blessings, during the times I feel I've been failed and when I think that nothing seems to be going my way.
Faith reminds me of the strength, mercy, grace, forgiveness, love, wisdom, integrity, dignity and other attributes that my God has bestowed upon me because I am His daughter. I may not always see it and people may not always agree with it, but God does, and I am His and He is mine. There are so many things I have not understood, and yet, through it all, God has always been faithful! Just like Mama Erin has told me for years now......."Keep your head held high and walk in the grace and dignity God gave you. If you do, when you walk through the fire, you won't be burned, and in the end, the truth will always set you free."
And so I shall continue to walk......
The Love Emotion
I was listening to Jeff as he popped off the seal
About what sex does to a culture and what it reveals.
My mind started turning and I started to rhyme,
But my heart knew I needed to write, this was the right time.
“Take a rape victim for example and once it’s revealed,
When the bruises go away, is she totally healed?
Nah, the damage is lasting, you can see it in her eyes.
But if it was just abused recreation, why did it ruin her life?
I mean, if sex is just for fun, why does it take such a toll?
Maybe it’s because you don’t have sex with a body, you have sex with a soul.”
This hit me really hard and I started to cry,
You see my past goes back twenty-one years, back to the age of nine.
I never saw it coming, I never had a defense,
The empty confused looks on their faces will never make sense.
What kind of satisfaction do you get from abused recreation?
This type of thinking, is this what we want to teach this generation?
Casual sex is a façade, and not how God meant it to be.
It’s like handing a girl her sign that says, “Use and Abuse Me.”
You have to understand what goes on in a girl’s head,
You need to love her for her before you ever get her in bed.
For us it’s emotional, there are always strings attached,
But if you can’t respect her, then she isn’t your match.
I know sex is fun, I’m not trying to be a hater,
But fun aside, the consequences are far greater.
The shame that you feel when someone touches you with no love,
Is like standing on the edge of a cliff just waiting for a shove.
You feel unwanted and dirty, lips not moving but wanting to scream.
You scrub your skin until it bleeds, but it never feels clean.
So guys, think twice before you disrespect a lady and ruin her life,
She’s someone’s daughter, sister, future mother and wife.
You have no idea what a smile can hide,
But the emotional scarring won’t easily subside.
Find out if she’s smart and sweet, and not just if she’s hot.
Your body makes a promise to her, whether you do or not.
Now ladies, before you get excited, we’re far from off the hook.
Dressed to the nines, you walk by him slowly, giving him that look.
Yeah, you know what I mean, so we don’t make it easy.
Guys are all visual, so when they see you, what they see is pleasing.
So if you want the respect, you need to give it in return.
And with the way society teaches us, sometimes that is hard to learn.
I’d say, “Watch what you wear.”, but don’t want to be misheard,
But often what you’re wearing gets attention without you saying a word.
Stilettos, short skirts, tight shirts and jeans, yeah, you know where it’s at,
Just remember it’s not necessary for him to know Victoria’s Secret.
Now does this mean what you’re wearing justifies an action? No, so no yelling yet.
This isn’t a speech about how if you dress like that, hurt is what you get.
But guys love curves, so if you show them, you can’t condemn if they look
Mixed with flirty attitudes and the kissy profile pics we took,
It’s no wonder sometimes respect isn’t given.
Like I said before, guys are visually driven.
There is life and death in the tongue, so watch what you say
Even in fun, it has an effect, and will get worse day by day.
They deserve our respect as much as we deserve theirs,
So don’t get defensive, just pay heed to what you’ve heard.
My final topic is one that causes my heart to beat out of beat,
Because it brings up my past and my face starts to heat.
Respect is what I’ve talked about, but this point is even more real.
What has happened in your past is nothing to conceal.
One night a pastor stopped his sermon with a word for me and I started to cry.
He saw the pain in my past and I saw the mercy in his eyes.
He said, “Those burdens aren’t yours, lay them at His feet.”
I said, “I’m covered in sin and shame, He wouldn’t want me.”
“It’s exactly what He wants,” he whispered, tears coursing down his face,
“That’s why years ago He gave His life and justice met grace.”
God saved my life and my death that night, but there’s even more,
That mercy and grace I found, that can be yours.
But you can’t give love if you don’t love yourself,
So go to the only one that can truly make you melt.
He’ll love you and care for you, and make you white as snow,
I know it’s sounds cliché, but it’s how the story goes.
Have respect for yourself, just like you would for another,
Because trust me, there is nothing attractive about having a big number.
‘It’s not love, but it’s close enough’, isn’t right, there’s so much more.
You aren’t made for failure and hurt, victory is yours.
It took me years to learn this, but it’s all so true.
Jesus should be first, He’s the only One that can truly love you.
**These are my personal words after hearing Jeff Bethke's Open Mic Night Poem, Sexual Healing. If you haven't heard it, you need to. It's an amazing aspect about how backwards this society is on the subject of sex and love. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IlJFvxad1_A
About what sex does to a culture and what it reveals.
My mind started turning and I started to rhyme,
But my heart knew I needed to write, this was the right time.
“Take a rape victim for example and once it’s revealed,
When the bruises go away, is she totally healed?
Nah, the damage is lasting, you can see it in her eyes.
But if it was just abused recreation, why did it ruin her life?
I mean, if sex is just for fun, why does it take such a toll?
Maybe it’s because you don’t have sex with a body, you have sex with a soul.”
This hit me really hard and I started to cry,
You see my past goes back twenty-one years, back to the age of nine.
I never saw it coming, I never had a defense,
The empty confused looks on their faces will never make sense.
What kind of satisfaction do you get from abused recreation?
This type of thinking, is this what we want to teach this generation?
Casual sex is a façade, and not how God meant it to be.
It’s like handing a girl her sign that says, “Use and Abuse Me.”
You have to understand what goes on in a girl’s head,
You need to love her for her before you ever get her in bed.
For us it’s emotional, there are always strings attached,
But if you can’t respect her, then she isn’t your match.
I know sex is fun, I’m not trying to be a hater,
But fun aside, the consequences are far greater.
The shame that you feel when someone touches you with no love,
Is like standing on the edge of a cliff just waiting for a shove.
You feel unwanted and dirty, lips not moving but wanting to scream.
You scrub your skin until it bleeds, but it never feels clean.
So guys, think twice before you disrespect a lady and ruin her life,
She’s someone’s daughter, sister, future mother and wife.
You have no idea what a smile can hide,
But the emotional scarring won’t easily subside.
Find out if she’s smart and sweet, and not just if she’s hot.
Your body makes a promise to her, whether you do or not.
Now ladies, before you get excited, we’re far from off the hook.
Dressed to the nines, you walk by him slowly, giving him that look.
Yeah, you know what I mean, so we don’t make it easy.
Guys are all visual, so when they see you, what they see is pleasing.
So if you want the respect, you need to give it in return.
And with the way society teaches us, sometimes that is hard to learn.
I’d say, “Watch what you wear.”, but don’t want to be misheard,
But often what you’re wearing gets attention without you saying a word.
Stilettos, short skirts, tight shirts and jeans, yeah, you know where it’s at,
Just remember it’s not necessary for him to know Victoria’s Secret.
Now does this mean what you’re wearing justifies an action? No, so no yelling yet.
This isn’t a speech about how if you dress like that, hurt is what you get.
But guys love curves, so if you show them, you can’t condemn if they look
Mixed with flirty attitudes and the kissy profile pics we took,
It’s no wonder sometimes respect isn’t given.
Like I said before, guys are visually driven.
There is life and death in the tongue, so watch what you say
Even in fun, it has an effect, and will get worse day by day.
They deserve our respect as much as we deserve theirs,
So don’t get defensive, just pay heed to what you’ve heard.
My final topic is one that causes my heart to beat out of beat,
Because it brings up my past and my face starts to heat.
Respect is what I’ve talked about, but this point is even more real.
What has happened in your past is nothing to conceal.
One night a pastor stopped his sermon with a word for me and I started to cry.
He saw the pain in my past and I saw the mercy in his eyes.
He said, “Those burdens aren’t yours, lay them at His feet.”
I said, “I’m covered in sin and shame, He wouldn’t want me.”
“It’s exactly what He wants,” he whispered, tears coursing down his face,
“That’s why years ago He gave His life and justice met grace.”
God saved my life and my death that night, but there’s even more,
That mercy and grace I found, that can be yours.
But you can’t give love if you don’t love yourself,
So go to the only one that can truly make you melt.
He’ll love you and care for you, and make you white as snow,
I know it’s sounds cliché, but it’s how the story goes.
Have respect for yourself, just like you would for another,
Because trust me, there is nothing attractive about having a big number.
‘It’s not love, but it’s close enough’, isn’t right, there’s so much more.
You aren’t made for failure and hurt, victory is yours.
It took me years to learn this, but it’s all so true.
Jesus should be first, He’s the only One that can truly love you.
**These are my personal words after hearing Jeff Bethke's Open Mic Night Poem, Sexual Healing. If you haven't heard it, you need to. It's an amazing aspect about how backwards this society is on the subject of sex and love. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IlJFvxad1_A
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Finished
انتهى (Arabic), завършен (Bulgarian), skončil (Czech), færdig (Danish), terminée (French), finito (Italian)........finished. The sounds are all as different as the lands from which they came, yet when it comes down to it, the translation in English slang would be: fade to black, roll the credits, the fat lady is singing......that's it.
I suppose we don't put too much emphasis on this word, however, it holds a lot of power. Lately I have heard, "I don't want to turn out like him/her!" so much that it has truly affected me. Placing a judgement on someone definitely bothers me so much, I try my hardest not to do it, however, when you place that type of a label on someone, you have no idea what you are doing.
It bothers me to hear someone say that, because it all actuality, God isn't finished with us yet. As long as we have breath in our lungs, we are alive and God is still completing His work within us. Isaiah 64:8 says, "We are the clay, You are the potter. We are all the work of Your hands." I have a lot to learn. I’m in awe that the older I get I find out just how much I still have left to learn. Are you the same way? It’s not that I thought I would get smarter along the way, I guess it’s just that I thought I would know how to more confidently handle those things that DID come my way! And I know that’s not always the case. Thank heavens God doesn’t leave me this way! I am so glad that I get the chance to continue to learn and grow – and I’m trying to grasp that opportunity with both hands.
I may not know it all but one thing I do know and have learned is that it’s okay to not know it all. It’s okay for me to admit that “I don’t know” or that I might have made a mistake. I don’t want to be a “poser” or someone who acts like they have it all together; because I certainly don’t. God didn't design us to be perfect, He designed us to be happy, healthy and whole.
No matter how old we are, we can still be learning. We can still be growing, bettering ourselves, rethinking things, and changing our minds about what we like and who we want to be! It’s okay! Don’t let the world scare you into thinking you can never change your mind! I change my mind a lot. Each time I do I seem to get a little closer to the vision I have for myself and what I want for my life. So it’s more than okay to change your mind as long as you find yourself moving forward.
God isn’t finished with me yet. He’s not finished with you either. And those people that we say, "I don't want to turn out like them!" about, He's not done with them either. There’s a lot in our lives to whittle away, mold, scrape off, throw out, gently prod about, and sift. Sometimes it’s painful and other times it’s welcome… just like a storm. But either way we can find solace in the fact that He loves us and He has a beautiful plan for us. He’s not out to harm us, He doesn’t intend on neglecting us, and He doesn’t ever shame us. He encourages, guides, sometimes disciplines, and always, always continues to try and get our attention so we can grab hold onto the life He has in mind for us – a fulfilling life.
I want that. Don’t you? So let’s keep on learning. Let’s do what it takes to gain wisdom, discernment and grow from our past and our mistakes. Let’s swallow our pride and learn humility as we follow His leading and direction. If we want to be better people, if we want to be all that we can be for Him (and for ourselves) it’s the only way.
Trust in Him- for He’s not finished with you yet.
I suppose we don't put too much emphasis on this word, however, it holds a lot of power. Lately I have heard, "I don't want to turn out like him/her!" so much that it has truly affected me. Placing a judgement on someone definitely bothers me so much, I try my hardest not to do it, however, when you place that type of a label on someone, you have no idea what you are doing.
It bothers me to hear someone say that, because it all actuality, God isn't finished with us yet. As long as we have breath in our lungs, we are alive and God is still completing His work within us. Isaiah 64:8 says, "We are the clay, You are the potter. We are all the work of Your hands." I have a lot to learn. I’m in awe that the older I get I find out just how much I still have left to learn. Are you the same way? It’s not that I thought I would get smarter along the way, I guess it’s just that I thought I would know how to more confidently handle those things that DID come my way! And I know that’s not always the case. Thank heavens God doesn’t leave me this way! I am so glad that I get the chance to continue to learn and grow – and I’m trying to grasp that opportunity with both hands.
I may not know it all but one thing I do know and have learned is that it’s okay to not know it all. It’s okay for me to admit that “I don’t know” or that I might have made a mistake. I don’t want to be a “poser” or someone who acts like they have it all together; because I certainly don’t. God didn't design us to be perfect, He designed us to be happy, healthy and whole.
No matter how old we are, we can still be learning. We can still be growing, bettering ourselves, rethinking things, and changing our minds about what we like and who we want to be! It’s okay! Don’t let the world scare you into thinking you can never change your mind! I change my mind a lot. Each time I do I seem to get a little closer to the vision I have for myself and what I want for my life. So it’s more than okay to change your mind as long as you find yourself moving forward.
God isn’t finished with me yet. He’s not finished with you either. And those people that we say, "I don't want to turn out like them!" about, He's not done with them either. There’s a lot in our lives to whittle away, mold, scrape off, throw out, gently prod about, and sift. Sometimes it’s painful and other times it’s welcome… just like a storm. But either way we can find solace in the fact that He loves us and He has a beautiful plan for us. He’s not out to harm us, He doesn’t intend on neglecting us, and He doesn’t ever shame us. He encourages, guides, sometimes disciplines, and always, always continues to try and get our attention so we can grab hold onto the life He has in mind for us – a fulfilling life.
I want that. Don’t you? So let’s keep on learning. Let’s do what it takes to gain wisdom, discernment and grow from our past and our mistakes. Let’s swallow our pride and learn humility as we follow His leading and direction. If we want to be better people, if we want to be all that we can be for Him (and for ourselves) it’s the only way.
Trust in Him- for He’s not finished with you yet.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Respect......today I found out what it meant to a lot of people, including myself. Today Westboro Baptist Church showed up in Simpsonville, South Carolina, where I work, to protest the funeral of a 20 year old fallen soldier, Justin Whitmire. He was killed in the line of duty and deserves our utmost respect.
I was raised in a family where I was taught to respect everyone, regardless of age, sex, race, religion, circumstance, etc. There is so much to learn from other people. I truly believe that most are good at heart, and that everyone has something positive to offer to this world. Now, have I always done that? Heh, no. I'd be lying if I said I did. There have been many I've lost respect for, however, most I've gained back, at least to some extent. But in those moments, I still learned something.
Today I had to serve coffee, donuts and anything else on our menu to members of the Westboro Baptist Church. Having seen and heard about many of their protests, the very idea made me want to vomit. I had decided that if they came through our door and I knew they were a protestor, I would do a protest of my own and use my right to refuse service to them. If another member of our team wished to serve them, so be it. My own silent stance against them. Unfortunately that didn't happen because we became so busy that we didn't know Adam from Eve as we practically tossed products at people. Amongst that insane rush were members of Westboro wearing buttons with Justin's picture on their lapels with an X over his face. Such shame I felt, knowing we had no option but to serve them.
After the calm of the rush came, we went to help defend the Whitmire family against any attacks, joining forces with the thousands on foot and bikes that came to do the same. It was such a feeling of unity, and while at times it felt like a parade, it also felt like such an honour to do something to respect a young man that gave up his life so I could stand there holding my flag. I gained a lot of respect for those that were around me. People had come from near and far solely to make sure the family could lay their son, brother, cousin, nephew, grandson and friend to rest peacefully.
Mother Teresa said, "There is always the danger that we may just do the work for the sake of the work. This is where the respect and the love and the devotion come in - that we do it to God, to Christ, and that's why we try to do it as beautifully as possible." I may not have wanted to serve those Westboro people, but I like to think that my attitude after I realized what we had to do was in the right spot. Perhaps this is some of the only kindness these people ever see, and I wouldn't want to place shame on the city that lost such a great young man. I also wouldn't want to disappoint God, who obviously placed them in our path in such a way for a reason.
We protected you because you protected us.
Rest in Peace PFC Justin Whitmire
Monday, January 2, 2012
Beginning to End
If anyone does happen to read these posts and they start at the beginning, which was in 2010, I think, I just want to clarify that I have only left them up because my prayer for 2012 is that people begin to see the change in me. If you read those posts, they are full of bitterness, hurt and anger, and I was very full of all of those. But God has radically turned my life around, and while I'll still have my moments as we all do, I pray that the posts of 2012 show who I am now. I still have much to learn and much to work on, but when I read ALL of my posts, I see a HUGE change.
~Chele
~Chele
My 2011
One of my New Years Resolutions is to write in this thing at least every other day, just for my own sanity. Even if no one ever reads it, I'll have it to look back on. As for my first post, I thought I'd write about 2011...........hold on tight, lol.
For me, 2011 started out with a divorce and moving into the city with a roommate. It was a hard decision to make, it definitely wasn't the favored one, however it was the best decision for me. I started attending a new church and started working. My life was hectic, I worked alot and I let work get in the way of me seeing my girls. I would call and cancel last minute or I'd end up being too tired, and I suffered for it. I wish I could change it, but the only way to do that is to not let it happen again.
With a new life came new friends. I worked with a lot of great girls, but they were also young. I noticed my language got bad, things I would normally never say were constantly flying from my mouth, and I had to learn the hard way about being impressionable. I would rather be a leader, not a follower, but thus wasn't the case. I also made friends at church, and my roommate Lora and I had mutual friends. I began to notice the healthy, God-filled environment that Lora and I had created in our home start to crumble. Satan attacked us in every way possible and while we thought we were fighting him, we weren't fighting him the right way.
July was the worst month of all. Rylee's birthday was July 1 (the only happy occasion), I quit my job on July 2 and on July 3 I broke my heel and my ankle. July 4th our friend and Lora's Mercy sister, Chandra checked in to a treatment center and on July 6th she came to live with us. July 8th held a great anniversary for Lora, 1 year free from self-harm addiction, and I'm grateful we got to celebrate. July 13th Lora had her gallbladder removed and July 18th I had metal put in my foot. July 24th we all got into a huge fight and I ended up leaving the house for good. July 25th I spoke to Lora for the very last time, and July 31st I decided to stay with my best friend Rachel and her husband until I figured out what to do.
When I was originally looking for a place like Mercy, I found 3. One was The Refuge in Vero Beach, FL, one was Word of God Ministries in Greenville, SC and the other was The Hope House in NY. So I decided to come to the Word of God Ministries in Greenville, SC, against everyone's wishes. I had several friends there, one in particular that they did not like at all. But I knew what I was coming for and nothing or no one was going to hold me back. Of course, this meant leaving my girls, and while that was hard, it was also a peaceful decision because I knew I couldn't be the kind of Mom they needed until I got the help, and that meant removing distractions.
So here I am, I left Sept. 1, 2011, and I am doing amazing. I was counseled by Elizabeth at the WOG Ministry and she led me to Celebrate Recovery. There are over 19,000 CR across this nation, and it is an amazing program helping everyone from the faithless to the people with lists a mile long. I think everyone could benefit from CR, it's full of amazing people. It's really hard being away from my family, but I know I did the right thing in order to allow myself to allow God to work in me and make me whole.
So here is where I start my 2012. Praise God for allowing me to even still be alive on this blessed planet, and for keeping everyone I love safe! Let's go 2012, I'm ready for you!
For me, 2011 started out with a divorce and moving into the city with a roommate. It was a hard decision to make, it definitely wasn't the favored one, however it was the best decision for me. I started attending a new church and started working. My life was hectic, I worked alot and I let work get in the way of me seeing my girls. I would call and cancel last minute or I'd end up being too tired, and I suffered for it. I wish I could change it, but the only way to do that is to not let it happen again.
With a new life came new friends. I worked with a lot of great girls, but they were also young. I noticed my language got bad, things I would normally never say were constantly flying from my mouth, and I had to learn the hard way about being impressionable. I would rather be a leader, not a follower, but thus wasn't the case. I also made friends at church, and my roommate Lora and I had mutual friends. I began to notice the healthy, God-filled environment that Lora and I had created in our home start to crumble. Satan attacked us in every way possible and while we thought we were fighting him, we weren't fighting him the right way.
July was the worst month of all. Rylee's birthday was July 1 (the only happy occasion), I quit my job on July 2 and on July 3 I broke my heel and my ankle. July 4th our friend and Lora's Mercy sister, Chandra checked in to a treatment center and on July 6th she came to live with us. July 8th held a great anniversary for Lora, 1 year free from self-harm addiction, and I'm grateful we got to celebrate. July 13th Lora had her gallbladder removed and July 18th I had metal put in my foot. July 24th we all got into a huge fight and I ended up leaving the house for good. July 25th I spoke to Lora for the very last time, and July 31st I decided to stay with my best friend Rachel and her husband until I figured out what to do.
When I was originally looking for a place like Mercy, I found 3. One was The Refuge in Vero Beach, FL, one was Word of God Ministries in Greenville, SC and the other was The Hope House in NY. So I decided to come to the Word of God Ministries in Greenville, SC, against everyone's wishes. I had several friends there, one in particular that they did not like at all. But I knew what I was coming for and nothing or no one was going to hold me back. Of course, this meant leaving my girls, and while that was hard, it was also a peaceful decision because I knew I couldn't be the kind of Mom they needed until I got the help, and that meant removing distractions.
So here I am, I left Sept. 1, 2011, and I am doing amazing. I was counseled by Elizabeth at the WOG Ministry and she led me to Celebrate Recovery. There are over 19,000 CR across this nation, and it is an amazing program helping everyone from the faithless to the people with lists a mile long. I think everyone could benefit from CR, it's full of amazing people. It's really hard being away from my family, but I know I did the right thing in order to allow myself to allow God to work in me and make me whole.
So here is where I start my 2012. Praise God for allowing me to even still be alive on this blessed planet, and for keeping everyone I love safe! Let's go 2012, I'm ready for you!
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