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!
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Since January
I can't believe it's been so long since I've written in this thing, I was getting in such a great habit. I read back through my original postings and it's crazy to me how I've changed only from a few months ago. Life has happened and things are moving along, and I'm such a completely different person now that those postings just reek of anger, frustration and hostility. It somewhat saddens me, but as the same time shows me where I am now and where I've come from.
I did not get into the Refuge in Vero Beach, FL, which was the in-patient PTSD place I really wanted to go to. At first I was frustrated, but I Googled 'Christian PTSD Counseling places in OKC' and as many times and I've Googled the same thing, I've never gotten anything, and now I've found this great place to start doing counseling at. I'm very excited because it sounds amazing, it's close to my house, and I get to stay right here where my family is. I have a great job and an amazing support system and life is going good. I'm going to Victory with my roommate, Lora, and Mark and Jennifer Crowe are amazing! He completely cracks me up every time he speaks. It's great to me the people they have placed on staff there. I have such a heart for the prison ministry and one of the pastors spent time in prison for burglary. He has this incredible testimony and I love that everyone feels welcome in that church!
I actually have had a great revelation since attending Victory. While I was still at The Bridge, we did the David study by Beth Moore, and when Kay Arthur was speaking she just really moved me. So much has happened in my life and I want to use it as a weapon against Satan. I have been through SO much in my life, more than most could even imagine, and without glorifying what I allowed Satan to get away with, I want to allow God to use the things that have happened and I've done in a way that is helpful and healing towards others.
I also just got some devastating news that my cousin, Sean, has been diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. He's just a few years older than myself, and our entire family has always been close. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to have to hear the words, "Without chemo, you only have about 6 months to live. With chemo, if it works properly, you could have about 12-15." Wow. I was stunned, shocked, and oddly at peace. Most call me a drama queen and normally I'd be flipping out, but as I prayed I just felt this amazing peace and I'm not afraid. I know that God has it all under control, and I think I'm finally learning to trust Him 100%. I want Sean to live to see a horribly old age, and I truly believe in miracles, so that's what I'm praying for, but in the event he goes before us all, I know I'll learn a lot through all of this.
I'll keep this updated better, because I want to be seen as the person I am, not the person I was! :)
Peace, love & fried chicken,
Chele
I did not get into the Refuge in Vero Beach, FL, which was the in-patient PTSD place I really wanted to go to. At first I was frustrated, but I Googled 'Christian PTSD Counseling places in OKC' and as many times and I've Googled the same thing, I've never gotten anything, and now I've found this great place to start doing counseling at. I'm very excited because it sounds amazing, it's close to my house, and I get to stay right here where my family is. I have a great job and an amazing support system and life is going good. I'm going to Victory with my roommate, Lora, and Mark and Jennifer Crowe are amazing! He completely cracks me up every time he speaks. It's great to me the people they have placed on staff there. I have such a heart for the prison ministry and one of the pastors spent time in prison for burglary. He has this incredible testimony and I love that everyone feels welcome in that church!
I actually have had a great revelation since attending Victory. While I was still at The Bridge, we did the David study by Beth Moore, and when Kay Arthur was speaking she just really moved me. So much has happened in my life and I want to use it as a weapon against Satan. I have been through SO much in my life, more than most could even imagine, and without glorifying what I allowed Satan to get away with, I want to allow God to use the things that have happened and I've done in a way that is helpful and healing towards others.
I also just got some devastating news that my cousin, Sean, has been diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. He's just a few years older than myself, and our entire family has always been close. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to have to hear the words, "Without chemo, you only have about 6 months to live. With chemo, if it works properly, you could have about 12-15." Wow. I was stunned, shocked, and oddly at peace. Most call me a drama queen and normally I'd be flipping out, but as I prayed I just felt this amazing peace and I'm not afraid. I know that God has it all under control, and I think I'm finally learning to trust Him 100%. I want Sean to live to see a horribly old age, and I truly believe in miracles, so that's what I'm praying for, but in the event he goes before us all, I know I'll learn a lot through all of this.
I'll keep this updated better, because I want to be seen as the person I am, not the person I was! :)
Peace, love & fried chicken,
Chele
Friday, January 7, 2011
Mountains and Mole Hills
A lot of times when I'm frustrated, I write it all down, re-read it, realize how dumb and childish I'm being and then throw it away.....that way I can't go back later and dwell on it. It is a great technique, almost like talking to a friend that knows every single little thing, because I'm really listening to myself.
Lately I've been writing down my frustrations, re-reading them and having difficulty throwing them away. Sometimes I think 'letting go of the little things' is harder than letting go of larger ones. It's somewhat easy to recognize that I need to let things go in order to move on with life, and I've done so with many things, but sometimes those little mole hills are there and I make them into mountains.
I try very hard not to live in the Land of If Only. I know that if I do I'll only go insane......and my insanity level is pretty much maxed out. I try so hard not to ask all the 'why?!' questions, but sometimes they still get the better of me.
We tend to take it to beyond the bonds of the truth, to the extreme, more and more these days. We seem to dig, dig, dig, that mole hill until we uncover, or find something, to make a mountain out of it. I, for one, have had enough of all the dug up dirt, all the mud slinging, to last me for the rest of my life. I think that if people ask themselves, what is the purpose of making a mountain out of a mole hill? Maybe everyone would have different answers. To exaggerate the truth to an uncomfortable level is to show their own need for acceptance and meaningfulness. Another might say that it would be boring if we didn't promote sensationalism. Is it really all about what people think? Only if you're a politician or TV star.
Truth is, we don't need to exaggerate any truths, the real truth can be hard enough to deal with now days.
Lately I've been writing down my frustrations, re-reading them and having difficulty throwing them away. Sometimes I think 'letting go of the little things' is harder than letting go of larger ones. It's somewhat easy to recognize that I need to let things go in order to move on with life, and I've done so with many things, but sometimes those little mole hills are there and I make them into mountains.
I try very hard not to live in the Land of If Only. I know that if I do I'll only go insane......and my insanity level is pretty much maxed out. I try so hard not to ask all the 'why?!' questions, but sometimes they still get the better of me.
We tend to take it to beyond the bonds of the truth, to the extreme, more and more these days. We seem to dig, dig, dig, that mole hill until we uncover, or find something, to make a mountain out of it. I, for one, have had enough of all the dug up dirt, all the mud slinging, to last me for the rest of my life. I think that if people ask themselves, what is the purpose of making a mountain out of a mole hill? Maybe everyone would have different answers. To exaggerate the truth to an uncomfortable level is to show their own need for acceptance and meaningfulness. Another might say that it would be boring if we didn't promote sensationalism. Is it really all about what people think? Only if you're a politician or TV star.
Truth is, we don't need to exaggerate any truths, the real truth can be hard enough to deal with now days.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
My Turn
It was very late on the eve of Labour Day when I walked down the steps at the 10th Street Brooklyn Station. I am still trying to remember how I managed to push myself in with a baby on my right hip, shouldering a bag on my left side, and my three small children trailing behind.
At Pennsylvania Street, Rochester, I was preparing to get off at the next station when I realized that just as it was a problem to get on, it would also be a problem to get off. That's when I saw him. He was just standing there, also preparing to get off, but with on a newspaper to care for. He was a little Puetro Rican man, but one who seemed ready to tackle any obstacle that lie before him. He had a long face, but it held kindness and thoughtfulness. He also had dark eyes; sharp, but nice. He gave me a look of concern, but quickly glanced the other way, shaking it off.
As the train entered the station, a white man generously helped me, placing my tired children on the long platform before walking away. When I stepped out, I then remembered the steep concrete stairs leading to the street above. I saw him look my direction with a questioning glance that left as quick as it came. Should I ask for his help, I wondered. Surely he wouldn't refuse, his face was practically begging to be of assistance. He continued to glance at me, quickly turning away when I looked up to meet his gaze.
I had a Puerto Rican friend before, a doll she was, so kind. She was very selfless, always meeting the needs of others before helping herself. "Julianna," she used to say, "Courtesy is a characteristic of my culture. Our motto is 'live and help live'. Always remember that, it is our way of life. If you refuse our help, you are going against the fabric of what we are taught."
As I stood there, badly needing some assistance, I thought about what might be running through his mind. I was sure he wanted to help, but did he think I would gladly accept his offer, or did he assume I was a lady with preconceived prejudices against anyone with a foreign accent, especially in a deserted subway station, hours past midnight?
Perhaps I'd misjudged him. I hesitated a long minute, the conflicts of the values and attitudes of our conflicting cultures were struggling inside me. Should I ask? Then, as though he had never seen me before, he ran down the platform, leaving my children behind me, my bag on my left arm, and my now-sleeping child on my right hip.
I took the steps of the long concrete stairs slowly, all my frustrations flowing out with each slow step. "So, this is what labels and prejudices can do to a world."
My friend had been right when she said everyone had an opportunity to change a life and change the world. I let go of the situation early on Labour Day morning, but the lesson I learned will stay with me forever. I refuse to fall into society's slanderous divisions and choose to remember the wise words of my friend.
Ignorance breeds intolerance, and intolerance breeds hatred. Only when we each take our turn to change these rules will the barriers of racism and division among us begin to come down.
At Pennsylvania Street, Rochester, I was preparing to get off at the next station when I realized that just as it was a problem to get on, it would also be a problem to get off. That's when I saw him. He was just standing there, also preparing to get off, but with on a newspaper to care for. He was a little Puetro Rican man, but one who seemed ready to tackle any obstacle that lie before him. He had a long face, but it held kindness and thoughtfulness. He also had dark eyes; sharp, but nice. He gave me a look of concern, but quickly glanced the other way, shaking it off.
As the train entered the station, a white man generously helped me, placing my tired children on the long platform before walking away. When I stepped out, I then remembered the steep concrete stairs leading to the street above. I saw him look my direction with a questioning glance that left as quick as it came. Should I ask for his help, I wondered. Surely he wouldn't refuse, his face was practically begging to be of assistance. He continued to glance at me, quickly turning away when I looked up to meet his gaze.
I had a Puerto Rican friend before, a doll she was, so kind. She was very selfless, always meeting the needs of others before helping herself. "Julianna," she used to say, "Courtesy is a characteristic of my culture. Our motto is 'live and help live'. Always remember that, it is our way of life. If you refuse our help, you are going against the fabric of what we are taught."
As I stood there, badly needing some assistance, I thought about what might be running through his mind. I was sure he wanted to help, but did he think I would gladly accept his offer, or did he assume I was a lady with preconceived prejudices against anyone with a foreign accent, especially in a deserted subway station, hours past midnight?
Perhaps I'd misjudged him. I hesitated a long minute, the conflicts of the values and attitudes of our conflicting cultures were struggling inside me. Should I ask? Then, as though he had never seen me before, he ran down the platform, leaving my children behind me, my bag on my left arm, and my now-sleeping child on my right hip.
I took the steps of the long concrete stairs slowly, all my frustrations flowing out with each slow step. "So, this is what labels and prejudices can do to a world."
My friend had been right when she said everyone had an opportunity to change a life and change the world. I let go of the situation early on Labour Day morning, but the lesson I learned will stay with me forever. I refuse to fall into society's slanderous divisions and choose to remember the wise words of my friend.
Ignorance breeds intolerance, and intolerance breeds hatred. Only when we each take our turn to change these rules will the barriers of racism and division among us begin to come down.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Wings
When I was young, I spent a lot of time with my Nana. She was very special to me and she always had wonderful and uplifting things to say to everyone. One thing I remember her always saying is, "Michele, you can place roots anywhere, but make sure to keep those wings open." Being young, I never placed much stock in that, but I heard it all the time. It is only now that I am beginning to understand, and appreciate, her words.
The quiet child awaits the day when she can break free of that mold that clings like desperation. I've always been a shell of myself, I've never truly been 'me'. I want to feel, I don't care if I break down. If I fall, I may be bruised, but I'll rise again. I became much too good at being invinsible, then that changed, and I refuse to let life roll over me. I have wings and I want to fly, into a space where I can breathe and look back at this distance I have wandered. After all, I'm supposed to be someone who can face the things I've been running from.
I have huge passion for many things, and I want the power to affect change. My life is my message, the good and the bad. My passion, I believe, is heaven to no one else but me, and I'll defend it as long as I can be left to linger in its silence. Its silence is beautiful.
This is my time, I don't have to fake anything, I can use my wings to be who I am truly meant to be. Gandhi wrote, 'A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history.' I absolutely love that quote, because I am determined to make a mark on this world. When I die, I want someone to be able to write a book about my life, and I don't want it to be a lie. I've made my mistakes but I'm dusting myself off and stretching out my wings.......I was born to fly.
The quiet child awaits the day when she can break free of that mold that clings like desperation. I've always been a shell of myself, I've never truly been 'me'. I want to feel, I don't care if I break down. If I fall, I may be bruised, but I'll rise again. I became much too good at being invinsible, then that changed, and I refuse to let life roll over me. I have wings and I want to fly, into a space where I can breathe and look back at this distance I have wandered. After all, I'm supposed to be someone who can face the things I've been running from.
I have huge passion for many things, and I want the power to affect change. My life is my message, the good and the bad. My passion, I believe, is heaven to no one else but me, and I'll defend it as long as I can be left to linger in its silence. Its silence is beautiful.
This is my time, I don't have to fake anything, I can use my wings to be who I am truly meant to be. Gandhi wrote, 'A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history.' I absolutely love that quote, because I am determined to make a mark on this world. When I die, I want someone to be able to write a book about my life, and I don't want it to be a lie. I've made my mistakes but I'm dusting myself off and stretching out my wings.......I was born to fly.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Secrets
It's nothing small to carry around a secret so big. I, of all people, should recognize this. As much as I am the talker, I'm also very quiet when it comes to my own personal life, secrets bottled up for years. But now I'm done being silent, Satan has taken enough from me and I refuse to stand by and watch.
I led a double life as a child. On the outside I was everything I was supposed to be, but on the inside, I was slowly dying. When I was nine years old, an unthinkable act happened to me. To me. I remember always watching Lifetime movies with my Mom and thinking, "Those poor women and children, to endure such tragedy, I don't know how they do it."
It's been 20 years now. Twenty years and I can still smell the fresh cut grass and the heat of the brick against my back. I can smell their sweat and it causes me to gag. I can hear their voices and see the blank expressions on their faces. I can feel my hair being pulled and remember what it's like to choke on my own vomit.
The age old rhyme of 'Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone.' rings very true here, however, at the age of nine I would've never guessed how much evil would've rooted itself in my life. It's like a cancer that just spreads, but it stops now.
God has saved my life and He has saved my death, and it's time to start living. It's time to not be afraid of fear anymore and to trust people......and myself. It's nothing very small to carry around secrets so big, trust me.
I led a double life as a child. On the outside I was everything I was supposed to be, but on the inside, I was slowly dying. When I was nine years old, an unthinkable act happened to me. To me. I remember always watching Lifetime movies with my Mom and thinking, "Those poor women and children, to endure such tragedy, I don't know how they do it."
It's been 20 years now. Twenty years and I can still smell the fresh cut grass and the heat of the brick against my back. I can smell their sweat and it causes me to gag. I can hear their voices and see the blank expressions on their faces. I can feel my hair being pulled and remember what it's like to choke on my own vomit.
The age old rhyme of 'Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone.' rings very true here, however, at the age of nine I would've never guessed how much evil would've rooted itself in my life. It's like a cancer that just spreads, but it stops now.
God has saved my life and He has saved my death, and it's time to start living. It's time to not be afraid of fear anymore and to trust people......and myself. It's nothing very small to carry around secrets so big, trust me.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Rolemates
When he got home that night I served dinner, stared at the floor and said, "I've got something to tell you." Staring at me intently, I knew he knew what was coming and I wanted to melt into the floor.
Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to tell him what I was thinking. "I'm leaving, I want to leave." The words flowed out so easily.
"Like really leave, or just go away for awhile?", he asked. "For real, forever", I stated calmly.
This made him angry. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he told me he didn't even know who I'd become. "I second that", I whispered. That night, we didn't talk to each other. He was weeping. I knew he was going over every aspect of our marriage, all the highs and lows. But I could hardly give him a satisfactory answer; he had lost my heart. I didn't love him anymore.
This man who had spent ten years of his life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for his wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I said, and in all honesty, I didn't want to. Finally he cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me this cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce had weighed heavily on my mind for a very long time, and now we were all forced to be okay with it.
In the morning he presented his divorce conditions: he didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. He requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. His reasons were simple and hardly anything I could argue over: we had two very young daughters and there would need to be a time to cope and sort things out. He also ask that he have full custody, since I would be leaving.
This was agreeable to me, although giving full custody over broke my heart. No judge worth their weight would give sole custody to me, but I still wanted to be their mother. But then he had something more, he asked me to recall how he had carried me to bed for much of our marriage.
Of course I remembered, it was something that started whenever I had a seizure, but carried on through. He requested that every day for the month's duration he would be allowed to carry me to the bed. I thought it was an odd request, however, I conceded in order to make our lives bearable.
My husband and I hadn't had any body contact for a very long time, so when he carried me to rest on the first day, it was very awkward. I closed my eyes and said softly; "Please don't hate me forever." He nodded, feeling somewhat upset.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. I leaned on his chest and could barely even feel a heartbeat. I looked up at his face and could read the stress. And while his arms were still strong, he must have lost at least twenty pounds! For a minute I wondered what I had done to him.
On the fourth day, when he lifted me up, he seemed so hurt. This was the man who had given ten years of him life to me. "Perhaps I'm overly committed", he said quietly. I had no response.
On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that over the years we had lost being soulmates and had simply become rolemates, playing a part everyday but not actually taking care of one another.
Wrestling with him and the girls one evening, I was pinned down and I started screaming for him to let me up. Suddenly it hit him. I had so much hurt, resentment and fear buried in my heart that I wasn't a whole person and I certainly didn't have a whole heart to give him. He reached out and just held me.
"I understand, at least as much as I can, " he stated one evening. "I just can't do it anymore, I wish I could, but I don't even know how to love you because I don't even love myself. I give advice like I'm a Pez dispenser, and I need to take my own advice. I need help," I whispered through my tears.
He picked me up and I hadn't noticed that our life lacked every day intimacy. A kiss on the forehead when he came in the door and one at night. Wow, that was all.
"I want to keep my ring, if you don't mind. Even though I don't feel worthy of wearing it, it still means something to me." He looked at me as hurt as could be and said, "I gave you that ring, I don't want it back."
My marriage life was never boring, but rather lonely. Most days we rarely saw each other, me working at the house and caring for our girls; him out working providing for us.
You'd be amazed at the things you accumulate over ten years of life. Cleaning it all out, separating what was mine and his was a difficult and sad task, but it had to be done. After it was all said and done I looked at him and said, "I wish I had something to give you, but I have nothing. You have needs and I've got nothing left to give. My greatest wish through all of this is that we can still be a family, that we can still be friends."
"You have a very delusional view of what a family is. A family is a husband and a wife that love each other and are great parents to their kids," he said firmly.
"A family is what you make of it. We aren't a husband and wife that love each other, but that doesn't mean we can't be good friends and be great parents to those girls," I fired back.
On one of the last nights, we were almost to the bedroom when he said, "I don't hate you, I just love you. Sometimes I think I love you too much."
"I don't believe that to be true, but I don't love you enough, and that is where the problem lies. You hold on so tightly and I am so quick to let go. I don't know any different," I said with a sigh.
"You've never had roots anywhere, you go where the wind blows you. I've been here all of my life and want to stay," he said, stating one of our obvious problems.
"I'm an individual. We may have come together as one, but we are still ourselves. Relationships are like sand you hold in your hand. Held loosely, with an open hand, the sand remains where it is. This is like allowing everyone to be who they really are. The minute you close your hand and squeeze tightly to hold on, the sand falls like rain through your fingers. You may hang on to some of it, but most will spill out. By forcing someone to be who they aren't, you are holding them tightly and they will eventually slip away and be lost. That is like me. I have to be allowed to breathe, to be me. Not just 'me' as a wife and a mother, but me as what God has designed me to be. You're prevential. You'll stay here all of your life and you're okay with that. I'm not. We're so different," I said, sadly.
"Then I hope you find what you're looking for in life," he said, having exhausted all options.
"What I'm looking for first and foremost is to be your friend. Please," I said, with hope in my voice.
"Friends," he asked. "Friends," I stated. He picked me up on our last night and said, "I promise I'll try." Looking up at him I said, "That's all I ask for. Love is an ideal thing, marriage a real thing; a confusion of the real with the ideal never goes unpunished. Thank you for carrying me to bed all these years," I said quietly.
"It's been my pleasure. I wouldn't have it any other way," he said with a smile.
♥Always remember to be friends with your spouse. Love is just love, it's not a fairytale and it can be lost if it's ignored. Most often divorced couples are better friends than married couples. Don't just be rolemates, be soulmates, forever. Go on dates, leave little notes on pillows, speak kind words. But if the day comes that those things don't happen, at least be friends.♥
*Disclaimer - This is a fictional story, this is not what is necessarily going on in my life between Brandon and myself. My apologies for anyone that was confused. This is merely my feelings towards the situation, in fictional form. :)
Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to tell him what I was thinking. "I'm leaving, I want to leave." The words flowed out so easily.
"Like really leave, or just go away for awhile?", he asked. "For real, forever", I stated calmly.
This made him angry. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he told me he didn't even know who I'd become. "I second that", I whispered. That night, we didn't talk to each other. He was weeping. I knew he was going over every aspect of our marriage, all the highs and lows. But I could hardly give him a satisfactory answer; he had lost my heart. I didn't love him anymore.
This man who had spent ten years of his life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for his wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I said, and in all honesty, I didn't want to. Finally he cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me this cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce had weighed heavily on my mind for a very long time, and now we were all forced to be okay with it.
In the morning he presented his divorce conditions: he didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. He requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. His reasons were simple and hardly anything I could argue over: we had two very young daughters and there would need to be a time to cope and sort things out. He also ask that he have full custody, since I would be leaving.
This was agreeable to me, although giving full custody over broke my heart. No judge worth their weight would give sole custody to me, but I still wanted to be their mother. But then he had something more, he asked me to recall how he had carried me to bed for much of our marriage.
Of course I remembered, it was something that started whenever I had a seizure, but carried on through. He requested that every day for the month's duration he would be allowed to carry me to the bed. I thought it was an odd request, however, I conceded in order to make our lives bearable.
My husband and I hadn't had any body contact for a very long time, so when he carried me to rest on the first day, it was very awkward. I closed my eyes and said softly; "Please don't hate me forever." He nodded, feeling somewhat upset.
On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. I leaned on his chest and could barely even feel a heartbeat. I looked up at his face and could read the stress. And while his arms were still strong, he must have lost at least twenty pounds! For a minute I wondered what I had done to him.
On the fourth day, when he lifted me up, he seemed so hurt. This was the man who had given ten years of him life to me. "Perhaps I'm overly committed", he said quietly. I had no response.
On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that over the years we had lost being soulmates and had simply become rolemates, playing a part everyday but not actually taking care of one another.
Wrestling with him and the girls one evening, I was pinned down and I started screaming for him to let me up. Suddenly it hit him. I had so much hurt, resentment and fear buried in my heart that I wasn't a whole person and I certainly didn't have a whole heart to give him. He reached out and just held me.
"I understand, at least as much as I can, " he stated one evening. "I just can't do it anymore, I wish I could, but I don't even know how to love you because I don't even love myself. I give advice like I'm a Pez dispenser, and I need to take my own advice. I need help," I whispered through my tears.
He picked me up and I hadn't noticed that our life lacked every day intimacy. A kiss on the forehead when he came in the door and one at night. Wow, that was all.
"I want to keep my ring, if you don't mind. Even though I don't feel worthy of wearing it, it still means something to me." He looked at me as hurt as could be and said, "I gave you that ring, I don't want it back."
My marriage life was never boring, but rather lonely. Most days we rarely saw each other, me working at the house and caring for our girls; him out working providing for us.
You'd be amazed at the things you accumulate over ten years of life. Cleaning it all out, separating what was mine and his was a difficult and sad task, but it had to be done. After it was all said and done I looked at him and said, "I wish I had something to give you, but I have nothing. You have needs and I've got nothing left to give. My greatest wish through all of this is that we can still be a family, that we can still be friends."
"You have a very delusional view of what a family is. A family is a husband and a wife that love each other and are great parents to their kids," he said firmly.
"A family is what you make of it. We aren't a husband and wife that love each other, but that doesn't mean we can't be good friends and be great parents to those girls," I fired back.
On one of the last nights, we were almost to the bedroom when he said, "I don't hate you, I just love you. Sometimes I think I love you too much."
"I don't believe that to be true, but I don't love you enough, and that is where the problem lies. You hold on so tightly and I am so quick to let go. I don't know any different," I said with a sigh.
"You've never had roots anywhere, you go where the wind blows you. I've been here all of my life and want to stay," he said, stating one of our obvious problems.
"I'm an individual. We may have come together as one, but we are still ourselves. Relationships are like sand you hold in your hand. Held loosely, with an open hand, the sand remains where it is. This is like allowing everyone to be who they really are. The minute you close your hand and squeeze tightly to hold on, the sand falls like rain through your fingers. You may hang on to some of it, but most will spill out. By forcing someone to be who they aren't, you are holding them tightly and they will eventually slip away and be lost. That is like me. I have to be allowed to breathe, to be me. Not just 'me' as a wife and a mother, but me as what God has designed me to be. You're prevential. You'll stay here all of your life and you're okay with that. I'm not. We're so different," I said, sadly.
"Then I hope you find what you're looking for in life," he said, having exhausted all options.
"What I'm looking for first and foremost is to be your friend. Please," I said, with hope in my voice.
"Friends," he asked. "Friends," I stated. He picked me up on our last night and said, "I promise I'll try." Looking up at him I said, "That's all I ask for. Love is an ideal thing, marriage a real thing; a confusion of the real with the ideal never goes unpunished. Thank you for carrying me to bed all these years," I said quietly.
"It's been my pleasure. I wouldn't have it any other way," he said with a smile.
♥Always remember to be friends with your spouse. Love is just love, it's not a fairytale and it can be lost if it's ignored. Most often divorced couples are better friends than married couples. Don't just be rolemates, be soulmates, forever. Go on dates, leave little notes on pillows, speak kind words. But if the day comes that those things don't happen, at least be friends.♥
*Disclaimer - This is a fictional story, this is not what is necessarily going on in my life between Brandon and myself. My apologies for anyone that was confused. This is merely my feelings towards the situation, in fictional form. :)
Friday, December 3, 2010
My Grown-Up Christmas List
I have a grown-up Christmas list, however, it doesn't include anything than can truly be wrapped and placed beneath a tree. Most are seemingly unattainable for this world, however, they are my wishes nonetheless.
♥Tolerance
Far too often in this world do we judge someone based on race, religion and creed. In this day and age, we need to practice what we preach, which is the message of God. How are we to fulfill the Great Commission if we don't meet people where they are? We are all human, we all bleed the same, we all feel emotion, we all win and lose, and we are all capable of love. We kill our brothers with malice in our hearts, and most often, we don't truly understand why.
♥Understanding
People do not respect that which they do not understand. This is one of the reasons I enjoy studying theology, so that I can understand people, and even if I do not agree with them, I can still have respect. Everyone has a story and we would all do ourselves a great justice to hush (my own problem!) and listen. Heed the wisdom of those around us and those that have gone before us.
♥Compassion
Compassion is the greatest form of love humans have to offer. My definition of compassion is forgiving, loving, helping, leading and showing mercy for others. We will never know how far a little kindness will go. There is life and death in the tongue, so speak life.
♥Mercy & Grace
Most often these are thought to be the same, however mercy is not getting what you do deserve, while grace is getting what you don't deserve. Mercy is like a judge finding you guilty and then withholding your punishment. Grace is like the same judge awarding you a million dollars after finding you guilty. In Greek as in English, mercy can also be defined as pity or compassion, and in the KJV of the Bible, the word 'love' is often translated into 'mercy'. We get both grace and mercy from Jesus and we should give the same type of grace and mercy to others.
♥Peace
When I think about peace, I automatically think about a beauty pageant contestant stating that they want 'world peace'. Peace comes in all forms, and I mean it in all forms, but most of all one, and that is a personal peace. I think that is something only God can truly give, however, I understand that not everyone will believe in God and I just pray that they have the most perfect peace that they can know under those circumstances. Peace comes from living in the moment and looking for the good in others. Peacefulness comes from facing our fears and letting them go - trusting that things will turn out all right. Peacefulness is also a way of approaching conflict with others so no one is made wrong. Everyone wins because we then work to find a peaceful solution.
♥Love
Ancient Greek text has traditionally distinguished three notions that can properly be called 'love': eros, agape and philia. Respectively they are a passionate love, a Godly love and a brotherly love. We all feel love, we all have love to give. It is a part of each of us and we need to spread it around.
♥Intelligence
I have noticed that far too often are we influenced by the media or by what others tell us. You should never accept second-hand knowledge as the absolute truth, but study it for yourself. You do not have to attend a fancy school or even school at all to be intelligent. Be objective in your learning, take from both sides, even if you disagree. Be open-minded to new ideas. Ignorance breeds intolerance and intolerance breeds hatred.....and we wonder why our world is the way it is.
♥Time
Sometimes it flies and other times it cannot go fast enough. Do we make the moments in our lives, or do the moments in our life make us? Many people die with their music locked in them. Too often it is because they are always getting ready to live and before they know it, time has run out. Do not put off for tomorrow what can be done today. God has given you 86,400 seconds during this day, what will you use them for?
♥Blessings
The biggest thing you can do is step outside of yourself and be a blessing. The most prominent people to us gave up their most sacred things: Mary & Joseph gave up their reputations. God gave up His only Son. Jesus gave up His very life. When you give of yourself you will always be blessed in return. Winston Churchill wrote, 'We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.' Here are some gift suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect.
Blessings to each and every person, I pray everyone has an amazing holiday season.
♥Chele
♥Tolerance
Far too often in this world do we judge someone based on race, religion and creed. In this day and age, we need to practice what we preach, which is the message of God. How are we to fulfill the Great Commission if we don't meet people where they are? We are all human, we all bleed the same, we all feel emotion, we all win and lose, and we are all capable of love. We kill our brothers with malice in our hearts, and most often, we don't truly understand why.
♥Understanding
People do not respect that which they do not understand. This is one of the reasons I enjoy studying theology, so that I can understand people, and even if I do not agree with them, I can still have respect. Everyone has a story and we would all do ourselves a great justice to hush (my own problem!) and listen. Heed the wisdom of those around us and those that have gone before us.
♥Compassion
Compassion is the greatest form of love humans have to offer. My definition of compassion is forgiving, loving, helping, leading and showing mercy for others. We will never know how far a little kindness will go. There is life and death in the tongue, so speak life.
♥Mercy & Grace
Most often these are thought to be the same, however mercy is not getting what you do deserve, while grace is getting what you don't deserve. Mercy is like a judge finding you guilty and then withholding your punishment. Grace is like the same judge awarding you a million dollars after finding you guilty. In Greek as in English, mercy can also be defined as pity or compassion, and in the KJV of the Bible, the word 'love' is often translated into 'mercy'. We get both grace and mercy from Jesus and we should give the same type of grace and mercy to others.
♥Peace
When I think about peace, I automatically think about a beauty pageant contestant stating that they want 'world peace'. Peace comes in all forms, and I mean it in all forms, but most of all one, and that is a personal peace. I think that is something only God can truly give, however, I understand that not everyone will believe in God and I just pray that they have the most perfect peace that they can know under those circumstances. Peace comes from living in the moment and looking for the good in others. Peacefulness comes from facing our fears and letting them go - trusting that things will turn out all right. Peacefulness is also a way of approaching conflict with others so no one is made wrong. Everyone wins because we then work to find a peaceful solution.
♥Love
Ancient Greek text has traditionally distinguished three notions that can properly be called 'love': eros, agape and philia. Respectively they are a passionate love, a Godly love and a brotherly love. We all feel love, we all have love to give. It is a part of each of us and we need to spread it around.
♥Intelligence
I have noticed that far too often are we influenced by the media or by what others tell us. You should never accept second-hand knowledge as the absolute truth, but study it for yourself. You do not have to attend a fancy school or even school at all to be intelligent. Be objective in your learning, take from both sides, even if you disagree. Be open-minded to new ideas. Ignorance breeds intolerance and intolerance breeds hatred.....and we wonder why our world is the way it is.
♥Time
Sometimes it flies and other times it cannot go fast enough. Do we make the moments in our lives, or do the moments in our life make us? Many people die with their music locked in them. Too often it is because they are always getting ready to live and before they know it, time has run out. Do not put off for tomorrow what can be done today. God has given you 86,400 seconds during this day, what will you use them for?
♥Blessings
The biggest thing you can do is step outside of yourself and be a blessing. The most prominent people to us gave up their most sacred things: Mary & Joseph gave up their reputations. God gave up His only Son. Jesus gave up His very life. When you give of yourself you will always be blessed in return. Winston Churchill wrote, 'We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.' Here are some gift suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect.
Blessings to each and every person, I pray everyone has an amazing holiday season.
♥Chele
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