Circumstance

 

I recently found this picture among my Dad’s belongings, showing our family and friends in the winner’s circle after one of his horses won a race. It brought back fond memories of those summer nights at the racetrack, waiting for the race with great anticipation and then gathering around the winning horse, jockey, and trainer. (I also loved that a win usually meant a stop at Bob’s Big Boy on the way home!) It felt like we were all in it together. 

About 15 years ago, the small construction company where I had worked for ten years closed down. The owner retired, and his kids decided to get out while they were ahead. It was my first experience with unemployment. I endured exactly a year of a fruitless job search back when applying for jobs meant mailing in your application. I may have applied for 20 jobs during that time and eventually ended up employed at the same place I had worked before the construction company. The job found me after a lunch with an old co-worker, who did not hesitate to hire me upon hearing I was available. 

Fast forward to last week. I'm about to enter my 12th month of unemployment, having sent out over 80 applications with the click of a button. Most of these jobs show at least 100 applicants, sometimes even 1000+, all vying for the same position, which we hope is actually real. While scrolling on social media, a former co-worker mentioned that those complaining about the job market are out of touch with reality and only believe their own circumstances. This person is gainfully employed and living an event-filled, travel-rich life. And I get it, we are living in days where there is so much information being pumped through the airways, it's hard to know what is real. He’s absolutely right… I do believe my own circumstances. They sometimes keep me up at night and make it hard to get out of bed. Sometimes my circumstances make me feel less than, forgotten, and like a failure. 

If you’ve read this far, please know that I am not asking for your sympathy. I understand that my situation is not like others'. I have made choices that have led to my current circumstances, like saying yes to the wrong things and no to things that felt like settling. I’m also well aware that my circumstances include a roof over my head, food in my refrigerator, and no children to support. 

What I am asking, mostly of myself, is how I will stay engaged with others in this state of “unemployment” once my circumstances change? Because I know my circumstances will change. The word “circumstance” is derived from Latin words “circum” meaning “around” and “stare” meaning “stand,” or “circumstare” meaning “encompass or encircle.” When I read the root of the word, it made me think of the picture I had just found, and all the people encircling the winning horse. The win involved more than just the horse; it was a group of people who participated in the process either by training, handling, or simply being family members cheering in the stands (even if it was for the desire of a burger afterward!). 

This reflection made me want to focus not just on my current state of unemployment, but on the people who have encircled me long before the “win” that is coming. Thank you to everyone who has reached out, sent me job leads, gotten on the phone or Zoom, encouraged me, and reminded me that my circumstances are not just a made-up reality. I have been deeply touched by those who have shown up, not just for the winning picture. And know that once my circumstance changes, I plan to continue to stand, in some way, for others experiencing this sometimes harsh, but temporary, reality. And you won't have to buy me a burger!

Divine Anointing: The Death of Doing Things In My Own Power (originally written 06/12/2019)

Last Wednesday, I got home a bit late and made that big mistake most women do at some point in their life: I fell asleep with my make up on. The next morning, my racoon-eyed self stumbled to the bathroom to undo the damage. Unfortunately, as I began removing the makeup, there looked to be a part of my eye that a stye was beginning to form. Thankfully, a few years ago, I had gone to an eye doctor after experiencing another morning of fun when my eyelid actually stuck together due to a bad allergy season coupled with staring at a screen for hours every day. I did what she told me back then last Wednesday, I applied a warm compress which allowed whatever was trying to get “stuck” to not be stuck…and all was good in the eye hood. 

Why on earth am I telling you this? Well, it dawned on me as I was sharing my predicament with Maria later that morning that what the eye doctor taught me could actually be applied to divine anointing. I don’t know if you all know this, but we actually have glands in our eye lids. The lachrymal glands in the upper lid is where our tears come from. The meibomian glands located on the edge of the eyelids produce oil. When my eyelids got stuck together, she explained that the oil glands had become blocked. When the oil glands are working properly, a thin layer of oil is spread on the eye surface each time we blink. This oil actually changes the consistency of the tear, which lubricates the eye. I let the doctor know that my eyes teared uncontrollably most days, but she explained that those tears are not the same without the oil. They don’t lubricate the eye properly which decreases the eyes function. If you go too long without unblocking the oil glands, not only will you have dry eye, but you can have small scratches that appear on the lens which can reduce your sight for life. 

My first thought when learning this is, “aren’t our bodies freakin amazing?!” But then again, we all know who made our bodies. 

Anyway, this got me thinking…this thing I do called blinking…I do, most times, without even thinking about it. I mean, you all probably just became very aware of how much you’re blinking now that I’ve shared this information with you, but most of the times, we just do it because that’s how God made us. And that’s what I see as divine anointing…that thing that God made us to do without even thinking about it. It’s because it’s that thing He put in us and that He works through us. Charles Spurgeon called it “unction.” It’s not something we can force or make happen…we can’t manufacture it…it’s just that smooth oil that slides in with the living water at just the right time to make the body function the way it’s supposed to function. It’s why some of you can preach a portion of scripture I’ve heard a million times, but it cuts through to my heart in a new way. It’s why some of you are the person that people are drawn to in times of need because you ask the good questions with care and concern. It’s also what makes this body we call the church move. There is literally and figuratively “unction” in the “function.” 

The thing that really stuck out to me about all of this is that it wasn’t that I didn’t have the oil gland in my eye, and that there wasn’t oil present…it was that there was just something preventing the oil from flowing. And that, for me, is where the death of doing things in my own power comes to play. 

It’s probably pretty safe to say that everyone in this room knows that “moment.” That moment where we recognize the anointing is flowing…the work that gets completed when you decided to spend time with your family and not your laptop. That church service that we allowed to go in a completely different direction then we planned or that service we didn’t plan at all! That moment you are able to walk alongside a person in a situation that once brought you pain and suffering. It’s that moment when we stop doing things in our own power and allow God’s power to take over…and it’s also sometimes that moment we run into the danger of manufacturing the anointing. 

Probably one of the number one things people will do when their eyes are dry is to put artificial tears or use eye drops. I mean, that makes sense, right? Somethings not wet, you need it to be wet, so you make it wet…but the artificial tear can never be the tear that lubricates the eye. Sure, it can come close, but it’s not the real thing. In fact, depending on what you use, you can actually make your eye dryer. 

So…this is where I’m about to get really real with you all – this is the part of this 7 minute teaching that I was stuck at for 3 days. I was really having a hard time landing this plane. I knew God gave me this revelation about the eye and the anointing, but I struggled with finding the right words to say. For the last few days, I’ve been trying to pull out scripture so I can really make this holy…I even went back and forth with a blog I’d written a year ago that was “really good” and might be able to be used to explain divine anointing, but it wasn’t until I was hashing out my ideas with Paul on the car ride home yesterday that it hit me like a ton of bricks…I once again was trying to do this in my own strength. 

This morning, at 6:17am, I stopped trying to do it in my own power. I put down all the books and blogs I had drug out. I closed the google search page of “divine anointing.” I turned off the youtube sermon I had playing in the background. And I asked God – what is it you want me to tell them? I believe what God is asking me to do individually, and this body collectively, is to stop trying to manufacture the flow…instead of going to the artificial tears when things get a bit uncomfortable, instead of trying to force a flow that doesn’t seem to be coming, how about we just focus on what could be blocking the flow in us? Like I said in the beginning, what I learned is that the oil was there, it was just being blocked. I had to take off my make up, and apply a warm compress and allow my body to work in a way that God made it to work. And this isn’t a call to start to pick apart what he or she is doing to block the flow…it’s starting with my own dry eyes and my own blockages. 

A few hours after completing this this morning, God gave me a vision… He showed me a picture of an oil well…you know the ones you see in Texas? But what He reminded me of is that I used to drive past them as a child on the way to my Mom’s eye doctor. You all may have seen them in parts of LA…I remember as a kid there was an educational cartoon which explained where oil came from…they said that the oil was formed when the earth was covered by water and all the plants and animals died off. They said the pressure of the water and sand eroding and pushing against them turned them into rocks…they actually would show dinosaurs turning into oil…which why as a kid my mom would point out these large contraptions drilling the land and say “look Gena, there’s a dinosaur.” The weight of the rocks in conjunction with the heat of the earth forms the oil and the continued pressure then pushes the oil up and through any crevice that is open. I don’t think God showed me this to say, “Hey, this is how oil is made.” I think He is reminding me once again that there is oil in the field. And we aren’t going to have to put a contraption on the field to pull the oil out…He’ll take care of that in His power. But what we just have to do is allow God to change us in His strength and not ours…unblocking our own well. 

I believe and prophecy that we are about to experience an outpouring of oil in these fields…this staff…this church…this city…like we have never seen before. 

Let it start with us.

Breathe

A couple weeks ago, I got off the phone with some friends and was in a funk. It was so good to catch up with them, but I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach soon after getting off the call. Maybe it’s because it was the beginning of June, and June has been quite a month for the past few years. Maybe it’s because as the world opens up again, not much has, or seems to be, changing in my world. I’m still here. Walking alongside the widow. Fighting the heaviness that tries to consume this space on the daily. Knowing I’m ultimately victorious, but not always feeling like I have the upper hand. The pangs of grief began to intensify in me. 

So I decided to open up my junk email, the email I use for all my shopping and information websites, and I start doing what anybody would do in that state of mind: clean my inbox. (Hey…it was a win in the moment because I didn’t go eat something.) Not sure why I decided to pop open the random email titled “Breathe – Out Now!" But I opened it. The email was announcing the release of a new single called “Breathe” and it was on the album being released by Maverick City called Jubilee: Juneteenth Edition. I knew immediately I had to hear this song. “Jubilee” is the word the Lord gave me for 2021. Juneteenth (other than being a very important day in American history) is an important day in my own personal history: the day my Dad took his last breath in 2018. 

I clicked on the link and it wouldn’t work. I had to subscribe to something, and although I was sure of the presence of the Lord, I was not about to subscribe to anything! I began to google it. And as I googled, I found a lot of stories on Juneteenth. I knew about the day, but I never knew, until that moment, that the day was originally known as “Jubilee Day.” As the tears of knowing began to well up in my eyes, I found the link to the song and began to listen to the words that would consume me. This was no coincidence. This was a visitation. 

They sang about being tired and weary. Being frustrated and waiting for better days ahead. They encouraged not to hold your breath…but instead release the heavy burden and breathe. They reminded us we were given the miracle of breath, there is power in our breathing, and that we were given breath so we could praise the Lord. They sang and repeated “I can feel my lungs taking air again…I can feel my strength coming back again.” 

The song was a proclamation. And as I listened, I could feel God’s presence and His supernatural breath in my lungs. And as I write this, I’m taken back to January 2020. 

I was getting ready to drive into our “Legacy Nights” at church, a week-long series of services where we pressed into God’s presence and power, and prayed for revival. I remember one day while I was getting ready, I was praying for the evening, asking God what He had for us. Asking Him what I should pray if called upon during the huddle. 

He reminded me of what He taught me about always “kissing Him goodnight.” He reminded me of the word I heard in 2016 at Azusa now: 

He showed me that to be revived, one must usually come close to passing out, or dying. I started thinking about CPR. I started thinking about the steps that I once learned about CPR. I felt like God was unpacking the steps that needed to happen for revival to come about in the church.

The first thing you learn to do before giving CPR is to point to someone and say, “Call 911.” When someone loses their breath, chaos can ensue. Not everyone will jump in, but some have been called to not only jump in, but to lead, and engage others. Although the actual act of CPR happens between two people, there are many others involved. 

The second thing you learn to do is to listen. Listen for breathing. Can you hear signs of life? Is there something blocking the airways? To do this, you must sit still and not be distracted by the chaos that may be going on around you. You must not succumb to the fear and anxiety in the room. You must focus on the one that has been put in front of you in that moment, and lean in close. 

The third thing you learn is to do is to breathe, mouth-to-mouth. You literally kiss the person who has lost their breath. The most intimate thing that one person can do with another. 

The forth thing you do is blow breath into the one who has lost their breath. You essentially are hoping to impart life into the person. 

Lastly, you pump the chest to activate the heart. To activate the very organ that will keep life going once you are no longer there to do so. 

Revival can’t happen without reconciliation. It can’t happen if we don’t involve others, listen closely, get intimate, breathe life and activate the spirit. It is truly a miracle that we get to breathe. 

I will never know why the CPR that was administered on my Dad the morning of June 19, 2018 didn’t work. I may never understand why 2020 became the year that so many had their breath taken away. It may never make sense that so many people had to hold their breath this long for Juneteenth to become a federal holiday. What I do know is, when you look at the mechanics of breathing, how fast it can be taken away, and how fast it can be given back…it is truly a miracle. 

So although I have felt a bit weary, I am choosing to believe that revival is here. I am thankful for the divine interventions of a word from the Lord in a beautifully timed worship song. My Heavenly Father knows exactly what I need, and is leaning in close to make sure I remember to prophesy to the breath...I can feel my strength, coming back again! 

Jubilee

I got into a habit a few years ago. I’d have a dream, or get a prodding from the Holy Spirit, and I began to make a note of it on my phone. After my Dad passed away, and we found ourselves going through his things, I even thought to myself, “Man, people are going to think I’m nuts when they read the stuff on my phone!” Most of what I’ve recorded may not be a word from God. But some of it…some of it is undeniably spot on. 

I think it was the end of 2010 when I started following a blogger who spoke about choosing a word for the year. I thought it was a great idea, and as the years went by, I was always surprised how my words always did tie into the year I was having. Of course, some skeptics told me that I was just looking for the word once I had established it. That’s why it’s hard for me to be around skeptics! At the end of 2010, I started what would be a year-long journey of unemployment, and I really needed a word to stand on. He gave me “strength” and it helped get me through a year of not knowing what tomorrow would bring. 

As the years passed, I’d find friends and co-workers who did the same thing. We’d share our words at the beginning of the year. We’d even write them up on the dry erase board in our office. It was our way of putting a stake in the ground for the year. We’d celebrate together when God would reveal deeper levels of why the word was meant for us in the particular year.

I was curious as to what my word for 2021 would be. My word (that ended up being “words”) for 2020 were “abide” and “arise”. I remember being perplexed as to how they fit together, they seem so counter to one another. But as 2020 began to reveal itself, it was clear how you could do both at the same time. 

In the year that seemed to take so much away, I wondered how God would follow it up for me. I remember hearing the whisper on 10/29/2020, “Jubilee is coming.” I remember putting a note in my phone when I heard it. I wish I had written how it was confirmed on 11/2/2020, but all I know is that it was. And once it was confirmed, it started popping up in so many places.

At first, I tried to make sense of it in my own understanding. I am turning 49 this year…actually today. Yes, I am actually typing this up as I turn 49 and enter the year of jubilee counting up to my 50th birthday. 

Oh God…I’ll be 50 next year. 

How could THIS be jubilee? I am still unmarried, without children, living in a pandemic with no sign of any freedom, debts being cancelled or deals involving large portions of land. The “Jubilee Year” is supposed to be the year of release. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in a house until a pandemic ends. 

But just as God has done so many times before, He has taken me on a journey of redefining what the jubilee year looks like for me. I remember being in a staff meeting at the end of 2020 where everyone was sharing how they were “thriving” in 2020. Whether it was starting a family or relationship, getting healthy or succeeding at work…I sat in my zoom square trying not to reveal the tears that were welling up in my eyes. If thriving and success were going to be measured by those standards, then that ain’t me! I didn’t have anything to share except that I recognized that what I had with Jesus is special. 

I recognized that what I had with Jesus is special. 

I sat with God in that. I wrestled with Him a bit. I asked Him why I had found myself speaking into so many people’s lives and situations to see Him then move in those lives and situations…but yet I still stood here feeling like I hadn’t gotten my own “moment” yet. What about me?  And as I sat with Him in a very vulnerable place, exposing the “ish” that I felt about that, I felt like He asked me, “But what if that’s your way to thrive?” What if your “thing” is that you hear from Me and then speak it over people, and then get to see those things I share with you happen for them? What if that’s your thriving?”

Since I made that proclamation in my own heart, it seems that the years of not feeling special, seen and loved fell off. This entire time, God was preparing me for this year of jubilee: the year that I fully grasped the cancelled debt of insecurity and the freedom that comes with knowing He and I have something special together. 

Now, I won’t say that I still haven’t had my moments. There are still things I want so bad for Him to tell me about my own life and situations. But I believe as I continue to focus on my special relationship with Him, He will continue to redefine the person I see staring back at me in the mirror.

So here’s to the next 365 days around the sun. I’ll go ahead and get my shofar ready to blow. 

She's Single...Bless Her Heart (originally posted on 12/21/2016)

This past week at church, my Pastor gave a great message which included an example that made me chuckle. He explained that where he grew up in the south, you could turn any insult into something that sounded less like an insult by adding the phrase, “Bless his/her heart.” For example: “Man, she’s put on a lot of weight since high school…bless her heart.” Or, “He is dumb as a doorknob…bless his heart.”

You get the idea.

On the way home from meeting up with some friends, I started thinking about the fact that at my age it seems like an awful lot of people could describe me as, “She’s single…bless her heart.” Like being a woman at this stage of life and single is an insult. The reason I can say that with some certainty is that I remember my 25-year old self thinking the same thing about the older, single women in my life. And I can’t lie…sometimes it feels like an insult having to say out loud that I’m “still single.” Definitely painful during this time of the year. Or national holidays. Or that dreaded bouquet toss at weddings. Especially if they play “All the Single Ladies.” I mean you might as well “bless my heart” right then and there.

I can easily start down that slippery slope of “How did this happen?” The problem with coming to that question is there really is nowhere to turn for the answer but to blame myself. Something I did or didn’t do or somewhere I did or didn’t go.

But the upside of being this age and single is I’ve also been privy to seeing a lot of my friends and family manage the “being single,” “being married,” and sometimes “being divorced.”  None of these seasons are easy, and they can all feel like an insult at times. In fact, during all these seasons I’ve heard people say, “How did I get here?”

So where does that leave my blessed heart? Well, it leaves me today with embracing where I am and remaining hopeful for what’s to come. You see, I am certain that I will be married someday. God has put that desire in my heart, and I am made for it. I remind myself of the day that I heard Him say “I’m preserving you for someone.” And I know I hear His voice. (Because…hello, who else would use those words?!) I have to sometimes remind myself more of that on days like today where I wish I had a partner I could call and talk to about the breakthrough in physical therapy. Or about how afraid I am about my Dad’s upcoming heart procedure. Or about the cricket I hear chirping and am praying is not in my room. (I hate crickets…they’re like beige roaches that you can hear.)

But I digress. Being single is not an insult. It’s a season of preparation for what’s to come. I’d like to believe I’m like a really fine wine that is aging for just the right palate. Or a steak marinating for just the right barbecue. God’s working through me and in me for just the right man that will come at just the right time. If you’re reading this, and single, and feeling insulted by it…I pray you will take heart. In fact, take your blessed heart and get to praying for your future mate.

Today’s Forecast:  I’m still single.

Silver Lining: Bless my heart.

Motherhood Without Children

My good friend DeShawne Edwards asked me to write a guest post for her series "Mom Memoirs". 

Take a look at what I wrote about "Motherhood Without Children" here.

Whether you're a mother or not, you'll want to follow my friend's blog here.

She's pretty amazing. 

Vulnerability

I love that one of the silver linings of 2020 was getting connected with a fabulous organization called "STRETCH." 

The mission of STRETCH. is to facilitate spaces for women to be vulnerable, embrace their weaknesses, and experience the unconditional love of God.

Not only was I honored to become a part of this organization's board, but they asked that I share a journal entry on "vulnerability" here.

If you are a woman, and you're looking for a place to rest, be loved and be seen, please check out www.stretchforwomen.org. 

What I Learned About Scary Santa (originally posted 12/17/2017)

I came across this picture and laughed to myself as I made a connection I’m not sure I had ever made before. You see, I grew up deathly afraid of Santa Clause. I’m not sure if it came from some scary Santa story my brother told me, or maybe it was just the creepiness of a dude showing up in our house in the middle of the night. I would not even walk on the same floor of the mall as Santa! And the one year my Dad borrowed the company Santa suit to surprise me Christmas morning…well, I guess he had to tear the beard off because I lost my mind when I answered the door only to find Satan…I mean Santa…standing in front of our house. I loved the one special gift Santa left each year that was wrapped in some different paper or had my initial painted on it with glitter (because surely it was from him and not my parents…Mom would NEVER glitter paint our packages!) But anytime he made an appearance…forget it…I was not having it!

This is literally the only picture I have of myself as a kid with “Scary” Santa. Looks like I’m nervous…but I’m not crying. And why you may ask? Well, what I do remember about this picture that even my Mom doesn’t remember is what happened before it was taken. That blue overall set with the matching  turtleneck was a little snug. So snug that my pants ripped the moment I jumped on his lap! Now thankfully, nobody else noticed that this happened, and it was close to the end of the day so I’m sure I just tied my jacket around my waist. But perhaps THIS is where my fear of Santa began!

It’s interesting to think that there was fear associated with the first Christmas. I mean, how could the birth of our Savior elicit fear? But a few years ago I watched The Nativity Story, and it was one of the first times I really connected with what Mary and Joseph went through. I mean if anyone had a reason to be fearful, it was Mary, who found herself pregnant as a virgin in a time where her fiancé could execute her for being so. And could you even imagine the amount of emotions that Joseph must have gone through at that time? Both had to believe that they were visited by angels and instructed on what their next steps would be and they had to choose to obey. I am sure that they had heard, or maybe even been witness to, a woman executed for cheating on their betrothed. Yet, instead of connecting that past experience with their current one, they chose to have faith and believe that they did not have to fear. They had to believe they heard from heaven and they had to have faith to endure. What I also love is that heaven knew how they were going to feel…and they weren’t shamed for it. Instead, messengers were sent to remind them, “don’t be afraid.”

The connection I made with my “Scary” Santa incident is that one instance could have been the reason I never wanted anything to do with him. Maybe I wasn’t really afraid of him. Maybe it was just the memory of him and, what could have been, a very humiliating day. Maybe I was more afraid that I’d jump up on his lap again and possibly rip my pants in a way that everyone would notice.

It made me think: Are there areas in my life that I am letting one past experience create fear in a present one? Do I let fear keep me from experiencing life because of that past experience? Have I “walked-the-top-floor-of-the-mall” in hopes that I would not have to face the fear head on?

If I’m honest: yes, yes and all-the-way yes.

Many have said that “fear not” is written 365 times in the Bible. I’m not sure if that’s true (I’ve never counted), but what I do know is that it was said a lot. And it was said by Jesus. And if it was said a lot in the Bible, and said by Jesus, then I know that it’s somewhere I want to be. A place where fear does not paralyze me from living my best life. A place where fear doesn’t stop me from opening up to new people or new situations. A place where fear does not control my decisions based on past heartbreaks or disappointments.

Today’s forecast: Memories tell me, " Don't do it, you  might split your pants again."

Silver Lining: Heaven tells me “Fear not! We know a pretty good Seamstress.”

Always Kiss Me Goodnight

Today is my Mom and Dad’s 59th Wedding Anniversary. I say “is” because it very much still feels like they’re married. I know the vows say ‘til death do us part,’ but if you were in this house, you would sense it…she is still definitely Gene’s bride.

 Most mornings, I wake up and lay in bed for a few minutes thanking God I woke up. It may sound morbid, but if there is one thing I’ve learned in this past few years, tomorrow is not promised. There’s something about waking up early in the morning in a quiet house with the sprinklers on outside and just a hint of the sun coming through the window. It’s like I’m thankful I get another chance to try this thing called life again. The world is my oyster, and for all I know, the day could be a big fat pearl waiting for me! A new chance. A new opportunity. It’s not hard to thank God for that…I mean His Word even says it. Weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.

 On July 20,2019, as I was lying in bed thinking about the fact I got another day to give it the ol’ college try, I heard a whisper:

 “Always kiss me goodnight.”

 At first, I figured it was due to what I ate before I went to bed, paired with maybe a late night search on Pinterest. I knew I’d seen my share of photos of signs that say that under the “I Do” and “Wedding” boards! But then my mind started going to remembering the night before. I was super anxious for some reason. A lot had happened the day prior that left my mind racing and my nerves a bit frayed. But, before I turned on the house alarm and got into bed, I made sure to kiss my Mom on the cheek and say goodnight.

 It dawned on me, for the first time that morning, I had naturally fallen into the same pattern I had seen between my Mom and Dad my entire life. At the end of the day, whether it was a “good” day or a “bad” day, my Dad would make sure to kiss my Mom goodnight. I knew that was one of the many things my Mom missed in his sudden passing. I couldn’t remember whether I said goodnight to him the last night he was living. I had gotten home really late from work that night, and he was in his office on his computer. I was so exhausted, I’m not even sure if I stopped to say hello.

 I realized that the combination of remembering him in that nightly ritual with my mom, and the regret I had from the last night I saw him, I had taken on the habit. Every night since his passing, I make sure I say good night to my mom and give her a kiss on the cheek because tomorrow isn’t promised. So why this whisper on July 20, 2019? Always kiss me goodnight? I knew it was a God whisper, so I took some time to meditate on it. I started asking myself whether I was as thankful at night with my heavenly Father as I am with him in the morning. Do I “kiss” Him on the cheek before I go to sleep? Do I thank Him for the day, whether it was a day filled with old hurts or new beginnings? Or do I climb into bed, tired, hurt and let down, just wanting to get to another morning that if He allowed me to wake up again, I’d give it another try?

 I did what I always do when I get a word like this…I google all the things. I found myself at an article written for religionnews.com by Nadine Epstein. The article broke down the religious history of “X” and “O” which explained the religious background to why we sign letters with an XO. The article said:

 “Once it was a sacred symbol, the “x” represented “faith and fidelity,” says Marcel Danesi, a professor of linguistic anthropology and semiotics at the University of Toronto. It became the signature of choice in the Middle Ages, when few could write and documents were sealed with an x embossed in wax or lead. This may be when the “x” first became associated with the kiss: It was customary to close books with a kiss, and oaths of fealty to kings were sealed with a kiss.”

That was it. The King of all kings was asking me to seal my day, the day He had given me, with a kiss. No matter what did or did not happen in that day, would I seal the day with a kiss? However much I did or did not perceive Him working in my life, would I kiss Him goodnight? Even though I know that He promised me that joy came in the morning, my Heavenly Father was asking me to stop for a minute before I went to bed, and seal the day with a kiss.

 It’s not a practice I’ve gotten down perfectly. But on days like today, and nights like tonight, I am grateful again that I have another chance to kiss Him goodnight.

Untitled

I literally don’t know where to start. That seems to be the “norm” this year, if there could ever be a norm to 2020. At first, I thought I was receiving the tie up to a writing I had started but never finished. Then I thought I was getting some pretty package of what my words for 2020 really reflected. Then I sat and stared at the screen and read something that took me to a place where I could literally feel the “girl shrugging” emoticon rise up from my toes as the overarching gesture to God I’m feeling right now. 

I simply have no title to what is happening right now. 

I was drawn back to that thing I wrote about quicksand a couple years ago. Once again, an overwhelming feeling of being stuck, only to be reminded not to try to scurry out of it. Sure, there will be people who will tell me I’m stuck because I choose to be. Those people don’t know the eternal struggles I have on a daily. They aren’t with me in the midnight hour when all in me wants to run from this place. Those moments I want to pull my way out of a tough situation that seems to be swallowing me whole. The moment when what seems to be the “perfect solution” is placed in front of me…only to have the honest conversation with myself that I placed it in front of me, not God. What I’ve learned about quicksand, and more importantly, those places…the more I fight to escape, the more I am engulfed by the circumstance. 

What God taught me then, and He is ever so gently reminding me this morning…”Lean back into me. What’s the last thing I told you? When you find yourself stuck in the muck and mire of a circumstance? When you feel in your bones you are going under and this time for good? When you are fighting with all of your might to get out of something that you think I did not intend for you? My daughter, what is the last thing I told you?” 

It’s those moments that I’m not only reminded of the last thing He told me, but that also heard Him right. Just like the article said about quicksand, “Lay back and create a bigger footprint by allowing yourself to float. Yes, do the exact thing that sounds absolutely crazy. Lay yourself back and allow your body to float above the very thing trying to suck you in.” 

Fighting back in something He’s told me to release has always ended up with me even deeper into a circumstance I was not supposed to be in. A place I was not supposed to walk into. I was reminded of the last time I said yes to something that seemed like the perfect solution to me. One week in, and I had to make the painful realization that I had taken things into my own hands and walked into a place He had not prepared for me. It was hard to admit, but had I not made the hard decision to say, “This isn’t right, I need to leave,” I would have missed the last 4 years of the people I have met, the experiences I have had, the healing I have experienced, and the full understanding of how much my Father in heaven loves me. Even in circumstances that try to make me feel like I’m unseen and not valued, I have come to a place where I recognize I am fully known, seen and loved by God…and that is enough. 

Today’s Forecast: A story with no title. 

Silver Lining: God’s a better writer than me.

My Achilles Heel

On July 23rd, I was putting together a donation pick up that I completely forgot I had scheduled. I blame it on being four+ months into a pandemic with a sprinkle of grief. The donation pick up was mostly to handle the cleaning out of my Dad's closet. I'd bagged up most of his belongings a few months prior, but had now been given the green light from my Mom to have the bags taken away. Since the truck was coming, I figured "Why not binge some of the stuff in my own closet?!" As I went through my piles, I found myself wanting to hold onto items I hadn't warn for some time. Items that were too big for me now. As I slowly skipped over the "just in case" pile, I felt a gentle nudge: "You're never going to wear that size again, let it go." 

So I did. 

It's now 77 days from that day, and I have refocused on my health, started a regimented food program and I am now working out regularly. I'm close to hitting my first goal of 25 pounds and am feeling like I could actually do it this time!

One of the blessings that has come from this refocus is actually experiencing the healing that has taken place in my heel. After tearing it two times in the last 4 years, I wondered if I would ever be able to be active again. I wondered if my achilles heel would actually always be my achilles heel! I remember days I sat in chairs crying because I couldn't walk, and the pain of taking the next step was greater than my willingness to even try. What if I tore it again? What I didn't know is that injury and the time of facing a weakness I had no control over, set me up for some future storms that were coming. Just as 2 Corinthians 12:9 says, His grace is sufficient and His power is made PERFECT in my weakness.

I decided to go back and read about that time, and wanted to share it here. 

The Rain Is Coming

God brought back into memory two things He taught me in the past 2 years. We obviously find ourselves in a desert season. The heat is quite literally, and figuratively, rising. I woke up this AM in a warm home with the sun beating in and remembered, “Oh yeah, a heat wave starts today.” I’m not a fan of the heat. It has the tendency to feel like it sucks all the life out of me. I wish I were one of those people who thrive in it…but I literally pray for it to go. I pray for the rain.

The silver lining is the Holy Spirit has taught me to not only be comforted in these seasons of intense heat, but to recognize that they are temporary seasons. I'm always comforted by the impending rain, but even the rain can bring things I'm not expecting. Whether the heat and drought bring a superbloom or quicksand after the rain, He has taught me to learn from both.

"Sinking Sand" written August 13, 2018.

"Superbloom" written March 16,2019.

This Isn't What I Asked For

I have to admit…I was feeling a certain kind of way as I got in the car after my hair appointment.

“Jesus, let it not be as short as it looked in the big mirror.”

” Jesus, let that “bowl cut” I saw staring back at me just be due to the fact that my need for glasses was not just for reading anymore.”

“Jesus, let that sticker I see “objects may appear closer than they are” really mean “your hair may appear shorter than it is.”

No such luck. As I looked at my reflection and then down at the Pinterest picture on my phone that I showed my hairdresser, only one thing was certain:

This isn’t what I asked for.

I had to laugh at myself for a minute because I realized that it was my own darn fault. I’ve been coming to this guy for 20+ years. He cuts and dries my hair in 30 minutes, he’s still only charging $50 for a cut, and I can go at least 10 weeks before I’m tempted to take the scissors to my bangs. That’s like unheard of in Los Angeles! He does straight hair really, really good. And for this curly-haired girl who’s always wanted straight hair, he’s been a blessing. But I’ve been down this road before. I know he’s not good at color, and he’s not good at curls.

It’s funny how life can feel like that more days than others. I’ve written about self-pity before, but now looking back at my life 6 years ago and my life now…I kinda want to go back and slap some sense into myself. Although I recognize there have been times in my life that I’ve been limited to what I could and could not choose to do, this season is so much different.

I realize that my life does have, what appears to be, a few circumstances that have created limits to what I can and can’t do. At times, I imagine it feels like my friends who have kids or are married. Your life and your life choices don’t only affect you. And although I am neither married, or have children, I currently have some life circumstances that carry a different weight of responsibility than that girl who was just feeling overlooked and uninvited to a few shin digs.

Just like my haircut, I used to have a picture of what I wanted my life to look like. By now, I thought I’d be going on 20+ years of marriage. The stretch marks I see on my stomach would have been from having a few kids, not from years of yo-yo dieting and bad health decisions. The house I was living in was supposed to be mine, not the one my Dad passed away in 2 years ago. I wouldn’t have a front row seat in watching my mom navigate widowhood 24/7. Instead, I’d have a front row seat in watching my parents live out their last days in their dream home together, loving on their grandkids and their other daughter, our dog Daisy. I’d actually be longing for the days I had a moment to myself. I would be in that familiar rhythm with a husband who adored me, so it wouldn’t matter how freakin’ short my hair was…he’d be happy on the days I brushed it and put on a little make up, because it would remind him of the girl he fell in love with.

Recently, my pastor preached a sermon he entitled, “The Devil Made Me View It.” It was all about recognizing that although the devil is real and he is a liar, a lot of what happens in my life can’t be blamed on “the devil made me do it,” but rather on how “the devil made me view it.” The devil never told Eve to eat the apple. Instead, he asked the question “Did God really say…” so that she would change her perspective and then actually move out of alignment with God.

Often times, God will allow us to be in a place of discouragement so we can be reminded that He is with us, He is for us and He is faithful. It’s just a matter of a perspective shift. Even Jesus had that moment, and the vulnerability to ask, “Father is there ANY other way?” But Jesus quickly had the perspective shift, “not My will, but Yours.” It brought Him into alignment with the Father’s will and the rest is history!

What my hair mishap reminded me of today on my 48^th birthday is that I’m a different girl than that girl who has asked, “Why am I not where I want to be?” And although the last 2 years have been some of the hardest moments of my life thus far, it has also been the biggest perspective shifter in how I view myself and how I view God. I do allow myself that moment, every so once in a while, to look in the mirror and say to God “this isn’t what I asked for.” But the difference now is that He has brought me to a place of quickly getting back into alignment with His will for my life. He has already told me and shown me who I am in Him. He’s put the desires in my heart and He is faithful. I don’t care what it looks like, I now hold onto my heavenly perspective. And this perspective could have never come without experiencing the lowest of low moments, only to be surrounded by His presence, and then reminded of His strength, that lives inside of me.

So, this morning when I woke up and stumbled into the bathroom only to be greeted by a girl one year older with really short hair…I wiped the gunk out of my eyes and took out all my best curling products. I re-washed my hair and styled it as best I could. Even though it’s not what I asked for, it will grow back. I still have a really good head of hair on me. This will be SO much easier to cover the gray, and it literally takes ¼ of the time to get ready.

Today’s Forecast: It may not be what I asked for…

 Silver Lining: …but it is how I see it.

A Love Letter From Dad

Recently, we were asked to begin to think about what the gospel means to us. I’m on a church staff, so that should be easy, right?  Yet, I have to be honest, I wasn’t sure how to answer that in a cohesive thought. I felt like I was in the front row of an A.R. Bernard sermon about to be asked the “easiest” question and my mind goes blank so I crawl under the pew assuming the fetal position sucking my thumb. Okay, so a little dramatic…but really, I know I should always be prepared to give an answer for this hope that I have. I guess where I get tripped up is thinking that it has to be this really deep thought/sermon that explains the origins of everything with slides to go with it.

So I sat on it for a while.

The first thought that came to mind is me sitting in my catechism class probably in 4^th or 5^th grade. I remember the “Good News” book being in the front of the class. I don’t remember ever getting to open it until then, and I’m not sure I even realized it was a bible…or portions of it. It couldn’t be the same old black bible with gold pages that was sitting in the small makeshift library of the wall unit in the living room. You know, the room only special guests on holidays get to sit in? I mean, you had to be really careful even touching that book…and I remember having to be oh so careful dusting it.

Wow, how my relationship with that “book” has changed since I started my relationship with Jesus. I still have the first bible someone gave me, and now I have probably about 20 of them in all different colors and translations. There’s usually one in a bag, in a bookcase, in my car, at my desk. I can’t remember the first time I actually wrote in one, but I’m sure I flinched a bit when I did. It wasn’t until I accepted Christ into my life that I learned that I could not only start to have a relationship with Him, but with the Word as well. One of the first verses I was told to memorize in my new relationship was John 1:1, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

The Word was God…the WORD was GOD! I guess I could understand why we were all so concerned with bending the pages! But just as my relationship with my Lord and Savior had changed, my relationship with the Word followed suit. It was no longer a relationship I had through someone else. It was a living and breathing and open to me to read, digest, question, meditate on, and run to. It’s a relationship that continues to develop day by day, the more time I spend with it and meditate on it, like any relationship, the more I learn about what He is saying to me, who I am, and what I believe through the humans He chose to communicate His Word through. The Word is a road map meets character builder meets a poetic love letter.

And that’s when it hit me…the gospels ARE like a love letter from Dad.

I’m not sure how long everything in life will come back to losing my Dad, but I’m grateful that in the midst of such a sad season, my Heavenly Dad reveals a little bit more of Himself to me. For the last month, I had taken some time off from work to get our house in order…the house that seems to have stood still in all its “stuff” for the last 18 months since he left this Earth suddenly. The notes, cards and emails I was finding myself running into from my Earthly Dad were similar to some of the “notes” I have read and learned from in the Bible from my Heavenly Dad.

Love Note #1: I love you.

My earthly Dad was really good at making sure I knew he loved me. He started out showing that to me very early in life by remembering every Valentine’s day, every birthday, every Christmas… I have so many cards that he wrote just to me, even in the awkward teenage years, or the years I wasn’t living at home, just to make sure I knew he loved me. And in turn, any time someone compliments me on my ability to “love well,” I know it’s in part because my Dad showed me how.

Our heavenly Dad says in John 3:16 that He loves us so much, He sacrificed His one and only son. In 1 John 4 He says our ability to love others is because He loved us first. In Matthew 10:30 He says He knows every hair on our heads and in Psalm 139 He says He knows all our ways…and He still loves us! I don’t know about you…but I got a lot of ways…and a lot of those ways are let’s just say…hard to love. So He made sure to let me know…yes…I even love THAT way of yours.

Love Note #2: I know sometimes you might do wrong. I still love you.

I knew when my earthly Dad was upset with me. Most times he was upset with me, he really had reason to be.  Funny enough, I was the “good kid” in the family, meaning I hardly ever got in trouble. There was never a parent meeting to talk about my grades. When he told me I was too young for red lipstick, I took it off immediately. There was never a late night call to pick me up from jail. But there were some emails I came across that he sent after we had a disagreement. Many of those emails would either end in some sort of “funny” or be followed up by an encouraging email chain he had received. I loved when they had to do with faith.

Our heavenly Dad says in Luke 15 that even when we get off track, He’s going to be there when we return. Even when we think we are unworthy, His Word says He loves us just the same and will celebrate our return to Him. In Jeremiah 31, He says He loves us with an everlasting love, and will build us up again.

Love Note #3: I love you so much, I took your pain for you.

My earthly Dad loved music. He loved finding songs that fit every situation. He loved everything from Motown to Country to Pitbull…yes, Pitbull. His all-time favorite was Ray Charles. I remember after a really hard time in my late teens, we were driving home from somewhere and it’s like he knew I was in the backseat feeling sad about a boy. He put on Ray Charles’ rendition of “If I Could.” If you don’t know it, it’s basically a song about a Dad wising he could take the place of his child during the lonely years. I know a lot of times, even when he was upset with decisions we made that put us in the middle of pain, he wished he could take the pain for us.

As Romans 5 says it, our heavenly Dad demonstrated how He loves us by sacrificing His only son when we were still sinners. And in 1 Corinthians 13 He lets us know He hasn’t kept an account of what we have done, but instead believes the best of us. Even in our wrongdoing, His love never fails or leaves.

Love Note #4: I want you to love yourself the way I love you. And I want you to love others the way you love yourself.

One of the things that always blew me away about my earthly Dad is how he loved others. The crazy thing was that he didn’t really have a Dad himself that showed him that kind of love. And maybe it was because of that that my Dad always had an eye for those who had been forgotten. I heard so many stories of the “love notes” my Dad had sprinkled through out his life after he passed away. The single moms who worked for him and said it was his encouragement and words that helped them to now run large corporations. The family members he would drive hours to pick up so they wouldn’t be alone on Christmas. The young men who others disregarded that came forth and said how my Dad taught them everything they knew about management…he even sent one of them to Vegas when they were 21 years old!

Although our heavenly Dad may never send us to Vegas…He does have a way of seeing those who others don’t, and making them feel loved and valued for who they are. In Psalm 65 He reminds us that He is a father to the fatherless. In Psalm 146 He reminds us that he protects strangers and supports the widows. In James 1, He says that pure and undefiled religion in His sight is to visit the orphan and widow in their distress. He has an eye for those people, just like my Dad did…just like we should.

Lastly, Love Note #5: Though we are separated now, we will be together again.

There was no written last note from my earthly Dad. I can’t even remember the last words he said to me, or if I even told him good night before I went to bed on June 18^th 2018. So when he passed away suddenly on June 19th, I definitely learned that whole thing about our lives being but a vapor. I still had his Father’s day card that I forgot to write out 2 days prior sitting on the pile of papers in my room. On June 27^th, I wrote him my last love note on Earth in that card and placed it in his coffin. I let him know how much I had learned from his life, and that I’d take care of Mom until she joined him in heaven.

My heavenly Dad loves me so much, that He didn’t let the love letters stop there. On July 19^th, 10 days before my Dad’s Celebration of life, I found a letter in my parent’s safety deposit box at the bank. My Dad was the only one who had access to it to that point – my Mom had no idea what we would find in there. In the box, along with banking information, my high school diploma, and a couple of pieces of my Grandma Jo’s jewelry was a letter to my Mom and Dad from my Aunt Ann. A portion of the letter was starred and underlined, and read:

"I talked to Aunt Jo and she told me that Gene was at the age of 1 month “Dedicated to God.” That’s how babies are “Blessed before God.” The church was the Italian Christian Church 215 Travis Ave., Trenton, NJ. The pastor was Rev Guido. They don’t baptize babies, they are blessed with oil.”

I stood in the bank in tears. Of all the things my Dad felt that should be in a safety deposit box in a bank…it felt like another love letter from both my earthly Dad and my Heavenly Dad. A love letter letting me know that they were together in the beginning…and they were together again today.

I started writing this in November of 2019, and am just finishing it up today…I knew it was something I needed to write, but I wasn’t sure why it was taking me so long to put words to paper. Now I know it’s because He was still revealing how wide, and long, and high and deep His love is for me. My prayer for 2020 is that my Heavenly Dad would continue to reveal Himself to me in His love letters…that I would continue to abide in His love and that He would continue to abide in me…until we meet again.

Letter to My Future Husband

As I was going through some boxes, I came across the journal I started at the end of 2016. Well, I was supposed to start it then...that's when God told me too. I was so afraid to communicate out loud that my heart still desired to be married. I didn't want to be "that" girl at church who continually was waiting for her husband. Instead, I purchased a few  really cute journals with the title, "Letters to My Future Husband" for some of my other single friends.  Within 2 months, one of those friends was engaged to be married. I'm not sure why I didn't purchase one for me at that point and start writing immediately!

Instead, I took out one of my plain journals and started writing. I was so uncomfortable, but so full of faith at the same time. So far there are three entries. The first two entries were in early 2017. The third entry was May of this year, a day after my Dad's birthday. I had forgotten I wrote it, but remembered what a powerful week that was for me. In the midst of missing my Dad, I believe God gave me a gift of breathing life into some dry bones. Since this last week seems to have had a theme of vulnerability for so many in my life, I'm sharing one of the letter's here.

Dear Future Husband,

Two years have passed since I started writing to you…well, one year and 5 months to be exact! But who’s counting? #Me

A lot has happened this past year and it’s not a surprise to me that writing to you was not at the top of the list. You have definitely been on my mind, no doubt! I have wondered where you are and when you’re going to get here, but have been learning new levels of trusting God’s timing. You will be right on time and I believe you are closer than I know.

This week, I had a moment that seemed to ignite something in me that made me think of you and reminded me of my letters to you. I believe I am in preparation for you, and as that time nears, I am realizing more and more the sting of you not meeting my Dad. Perhaps it’s strong today because his birthday was yesterday. Perhaps it’s the realization that I will walk down the aisle of my friend’s wedding in a few weeks…a trip down the aisle that I imagined would be with my Dad the next time I took it. I had to take a minute to grieve that moment.

I am certain you would have loved him. And I am equally sure that he would have loved you. He only ever really wanted a man who would cherish me. Not just take care of me, but love me for who I am. I believe you will have some of the characteristics of my Dad. You will be smart. You will be wise. You will probably have the gift of negotiation, but not in that bully/intimidating way. You will be able to take control of a room or situation without anyone feeling attacked or discouraged. You will be an encourager. You will recognize the underdog and the forgotten and make sure they feel uplifted and seen. You will be generous with your time and resources. You will love family, even if you didn’t come from the best one. You will be filled with dreams and passionate about life. You will know how to close a deal for the benefit of all involved. I won’t have to chase you because you know a good thing when you see it, and you will let me know how you feel about me. Your words will have a weight to them unlike I've ever experienced in my life. I'll trust that you want the best for me, and that you see the best in me when I can't.

You would have loved him!

You might not get to meet him in this world, but you will get to know him by knowing me…and isn’t that every good Father’s desire?

Thank you for understanding that I may have moments of still dealing with this loss. He left a void in my life and the life of my family for sure, but I don’t expect you to fill that void.

I just look forward to introducing you to the other man who changed my life.

Divine Anointing

You know those times in your life that seem to start just like any other day? But then there’s a moment you feel that has marked you for life? I am excited to say I’ve had a few of those this month. One of them happened a couple of weeks ago when I was asked to give a 7-minute teaching on Divine Anointing at our all staff meeting. Most people who know me know I don’t really like speaking in front of groups. It’s not that I don’t think I have a lot of good things to say, I’m just not always able to get my thoughts out of my mouth. I guess that’s why I’ve always loved to write…sometimes the thoughts come so fast and from so many directions, writing gives me a way to organize them before spitting them out.

I have to say, speaking in front of groups really took a turn last year when I gave a eulogy at my Dad’s celebration of life. Because my Dad died suddenly, I didn’t get to say goodbye. In fact, he died 2 days after Father’s Day, and I never even gave him his Father’s Day card. I had to write out his goodbye and put it in his casket. Yet another moment where I had to write all the things I wish I had been able to get out of my mouth. But as I stood in front of the 100+ guests the day we celebrated his life, I felt an empowering of the Holy Spirit like I had never had before. I was able to say goodbye, and show a side of my Dad that brought him honor and made me proud to be his daughter.

Fast forward to June 12, 2019. I was feeling really challenged at what to share with the staff about Divine Anointing. I’m not the most Bible read, my speaking voice annoys me, and I usually find myself twitching in some way when I have to share in front of a group. Although I’ve lost 30 pounds, I’m still super self-conscious of my body. I can’t stand up and recite a cohesive thought like the Pastors I’ve sat under through the years. I knew I was going to have to write the entire teaching out, and read it straight from a piece of paper. I knew my glasses would slip down my face, and that I’d try to look up and make eye contact, but most likely, I’d be lucky if I didn’t burst into tears at some point, or pass out.

But for whatever reason, God gave me a word and I spoke it the best I could and the response was one I was not expecting. The response was one that you know you really did speak a word from God. And I’m even uncomfortable typing this, but I’m just so blown away that God speaks to me and I hear Him. I mean…duh…He says that He does speak to us, and that we can distinguish His voice, but I’m so blown away that I actually hear it! And that He would allow me to have a moment to believe that my words can carry His power…I’m so grateful! All these years of feeling less than, unheard, and unseen…and He gave me the moment of recognition that His words coming through my voice have His power?! I truly mean it when I say that even if I never have another experience like this, I have been marked for life by it.

One of my favorite people in the world, one that I respect as a leader, a wife, a mom, and a pastor, pulled me aside after the meeting. It felt like God, through her, took my face in His hands and said, “I see you.” She encouraged me to take the pages I read from and frame them. Do whatever it is I need to do to mark the day for myself. I took her words to heart, because I know how important those “days” are…the days that God manifests Himself into a moment that marks your life forever. It was one of those days.

So as an act of obedience, and of vulnerability, this is me framing that day…but differently than I’ve ever done before. Instead of posting the words, I’m posting the video. The barely audible, cracked voice, eye-glass twitching, looked-up-from-the-pages-maybe-twice video, of how I see Divine Anointing. And it doesn’t really matter who does or does not see it…what matters is that God saw me, He sees me, and He has more for me if I trust Him.

Today’s Forecast:  Shaky voice with a chance of twitching nerves.

Silver Lining: My take on Divine Anointing.

This Time Last Year

One of the most powerful sermons I’ve ever heard is the one my pastor gave on September 4, 2016 – This Time, Next Year. It’s about your life changing one year from today. It’s a great message of hope for what’s to come when life isn’t working out the way you thought it would.

But today I’m really thinking about this time LAST year. It’s a day that I need to look back at for a minute. It marks the day that everything changed in my family forever. From this day forward, there will never be another “first time without Dad.” Nope… this time last year was the last day my Dad would take a breath on Earth.

This time last year, we had just celebrated a beautiful Father’s Day with my family. All my brothers came out, which was a first for at least 6 months. A lot had transpired in early 2018, and I really wasn’t sure how this gathering would turn out. In fact, I almost volunteered to work so I wouldn’t have to be there. I’m so glad I didn’t do that. I was able to not only be present, but see that even in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, my family was still my family and a place of joy and laughter. We ate pizza. We played poker. And for whatever reason I felt compelled to take a picture of my Dad and his sons…the last picture that would ever be taken of my Dad.

Two days later, this time last year, I was in the midst of a very busy conference season and a lot of transition at work. My mom called me at 9:30 am to say, “Dad fell!” She was frantic, so I knew it wasn’t just a fall…when she said, “They're working on him now." I knew I needed to get home as soon as my car could get me there. The 40-minute drive was the longest, fastest drive ever. I kept hearing, “He died. He died. He’s gone.” I kept rebuking the thoughts that I was sure were from the pit of hell…only to find out that my brother was on his knees praying for my Dad in his living room after he got the same phone call and was hearing the very same thing. The words, “He’s gone,” were quickly replaced with “Life is but a vapor.” It took a minute for my brain to catch up with what had happened…my Dad was here one night and gone the next morning. It was the most surreal moment of my life.

This time last year, I started a journey of learning all about the peace that surpasses all understanding. I knew my friends were praying for me and praying that I'd experience that type of peace. I can’t even explain how I mustered the strength to call people and tell them my Dad had passed away. How did I set up the celebration of life? How did I drive his clothes down to the mortuary? There is no doubt in my mind that God is close to the brokenhearted. His presence was so thick and so real…it was the most beautifully, painful time of my life. I had joined the “club” that everybody does at some point of their lives, but nobody really talks about…and once you do join, you’re so glad there are others who have joined and navigated it before you.

This time last year, I didn’t fully understand the grief of a widow. I’m not sure I fully understand it now, but having witnessed and walked alongside my Mom during it, it has made me love Jesus all the more. He really understood the pain. It’s why He told people to care for the widow and orphans. I kept thinking, “Wow…this is what they mean when they say until death do us part.” But man, marriage doesn’t seem to end because somebody dies. Like I said, it’s been one of the most beautifully, painful times of my life…and listening to the stories of my Mom and Dad told through the eyes of a widow has just made me appreciate marriage all the more. I haven’t experienced marriage yet, but oh how I will see it differently forever. I remember a friend who was navigating a divorce asked me, “Why does it hurt so much?” The only thing I could think to say, “Well…the Bible says it’s two becoming one flesh, so it must feel like flesh being pulled apart.” I’d say I’ve witnessed the same watching my Mom navigate the loss, but it’s different. No one made the choice to go, but he’s not here anymore.

So today I took the day off. I cried a little. I laughed a little. I remembered a lot. I thanked God for all He has done in this last year. All that He has walked alongside me through. My faith and hope in the future couldn’t be any stronger. This morning during my quiet time I heard the words, “You are your Father’s daughter.” I’m not sure I fully knew or understood that this time last year. But today I know I’ve inherited both my earthly father's and my Heavenly Father's strength.

I am so, so grateful.

Today’s Forecast: A lot of memories.

Silver Lining: A lot of memories.

Superbloom

This past weekend was especially rough. In the process of assisting my Mom in some tasks that she is trying to tie up, I found myself knee deep in my Dad’s emails. Many of them written the last week of his life. Like so much of his life, he was working on helping a family member, he was doing it with everything he had in him, and he was doing it with excellence. There really was no one like my Dad when it came to handling all of life’s “stuff.”

I found myself in tears as I read through emails that didn’t really matter to the world, but they were the last words my Dad would write. The last ideas he would have had. The last thoughts he would have thunk (so not a word…but I’m crying now and trying to laugh through it.) I wondered why I had to be the one to do this. Why did I have to spend most of my nights home, knee deep in responsibilities with a grieving wife and a dog that whines until you pet her? I was having a major pity party.

As I was sorting through this, along with the gazillion other things that needed to be done, the news came on the tv about the “superbloom” that was going on in the California desert. If you know anything about California, you are aware of the fact that we have been in a drought for a few years now. I’m not sure we’ve had substantial rainfall since I was in college…and let’s just say that was many moons ago!

The newscasters explained that because of the lack of rain, there were seeds that laid dormant in the desert for decades just waiting for the sky to open and dump enough rain to wake them up. Well, it happened this year. And after record rainfall, we now have fields and fields of wildflowers in the desert.

The news snapped me out of my funk. I mean, how profound and biblical is that?! Seeds that have laid dormant for DECADES have been WATERED and have BLOOMED in the DESERT!! If there’s one thing I know about God it's that if He does it for the seeds, then He will do it for me too!

So how do you get through the season before the bloom? Here’s a few things I’ve learned along the way:

Recognize your seeds are dormant, not dead.

This is temporary. And when you forget that, repeat: This. IS. TEMPORARY! I know temporary doesn’t always make me feel better because temporary could be days, months and sometimes years. But what I loved about the story about the Super Bloom is that a lot of times, in the desert seasons, I could start to think that everything is dead. My dreams. My circumstances. My hopes. To know that even in the desert, seeds could just lay dormant and then one day, suddenly, erupt in the most beautiful of flowers made me take a long, much needed sigh. It made me look forward with great expectation to those things that I can’t see now, but believe are coming anyway …hey, that kinda sounds a lot like faith, huh?

Make sure you continue to water the desert.
Those dormant seeds stay dormant unless they receive the rain. Lots of it. When I think about “watering” my desert season, I think about checking my thoughts and my words. Where do I let my mind go? What thoughts do I actually allow to travel from my brain and come out of my mouth? We all know that death and life is in the power of the tongue, so remember to speak life when you find yourself in the desert. Another great way to make sure you are watering well is to surround yourself with others who will water your desert too. The desert season is not a good place to have naysayers, aka hot wind storms, kicking up and making you feel even more parched. It has been important during the desert season to have friends who check me when I begin to waver from speaking life over myself.

Prepare for the impending bloom.

You gotta believe it’s coming and you gotta prepare for when it does! If there’s one thing I have learned in my desert seasons is that I could either waste my time feeling sorry for myself, or I can use my time to prepare for the harvest on the way. Because guess what…that’s what the desert season is for! If I spent my time speaking death over my life, looking forward to nothing and not believing anything is going to change…I’m going to either miss it when it happens, or be so overwhelmed with life that I can’t enjoy the bloom once it’s here. Harvest. IS. Coming! I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I do know I want to be ready for it. And sometimes that’s hard for people like me who are so used to making things happen. Sometimes God just wants me to lay “dormant” for a while, get some things completed, forgive some people, rest and rest some more. At the right time He will make it happen and I know I will fully bloom into all that I am meant to be.

Today’s Forecast:  Rain in the desert. A lot of it.

Silver Lining:  Even in the desert, the more rain, the more flowers.

My Forever Valentine

“When I think about my Dad, I think about how I always had a Valentine. Every year, since I was born, he did something to remind me that I was loved, whether I had a Valentine or not.”

Those were the first words I spoke at my Dad’s celebration of life last July. They are the words I woke up to this morning in my head. The rain was loud outside, but those words were louder as I slowly pulled myself out of bed to walk to the bathroom that would not have the card and some type of small gift sitting on the counter from him.

Somewhere in the piles of boxes that are in our garage and storage, there are pictures of me as a toddler propped up on our fireplace sitting next to a rose for every year I was alive. At some point, it changed to a card expressing his love for me and a small token of his affection. As I got older, it was sometimes an email or text when I no longer lived under the same roof. But when I moved back in a few years ago, the card on my bathroom sink with a $20 bill was there every Valentine’s morning.

It stung for a minute. The pangs of grief were all the way real this morning. And it wasn’t because I didn’t have a Valentine. It’s because I no longer have the man who reminded me every year that I was loved no matter what on this day. As I’ve grown up and grown older, I have become SO aware of what a Father’s love (or lack thereof) can do.

I had been thinking about today for the last week. Every “first” without my Dad has been an interesting thing. The days I thought would really be hard, sometimes aren’t. And sometimes there are days that sneak up on me out of nowhere. But I knew that walk from my bedroom to the bathroom was going to be hard. And maybe today is hard for you for very different reasons than me, but here’s some things I did to help me through the day:

• Made a Plan: I didn’t act like it wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t pretend it wasn’t a big deal. I allowed myself to think about it, cry about it, and process it, even a week before it happened. So much so, I asked for today off, a month ago.


• Spread the Love: I started asking God a week ago who I could share a little love with. He put people on my heart and I shared love with them the way my Dad taught me to. I left a little note and a small token of my affection letting them know I see them, I feel for them, and that I am believing with them on matters of the heart.


• Spend some time with God: I took some time to let my Heavenly Father speak to me and comfort me. It’s times like these that Psalm 3:3 becomes so real. I envision my Heavenly Father actually taking my face in His hands and lifting it towards Him, letting me know He is near and He sees the pain.

Today's Forecast: Another Valentine's day without the "one."

Silver Lining: Grateful for the "one" I'll always have in my heart, and the "One" who comforts my heart. 

The Heart of the Matter

Three months after losing my Dad unexpectedly to what, we believe, was a sudden heart attack, I found myself sitting in the waiting room of a cardiologist’s office praying to Jesus that the little palpitation I was feeling was nothing. After speaking to the doctor about my family history, and my current state of being, he decided to have me wear a heart monitor for two weeks. This little contraption was strapped on and keeping track of my every move…at least it felt like that’s what it was doing! Thankfully, they have come a long way in the world of heart monitors, so I could secure it under my top with nobody being the wiser. It made me feel like I was walking around with this little secret around my neck. As the days went on, I told some people about it just in case I started buzzing due to an electrode popping off. I also told some people because I was just plain scared. It was weird. I became very, very aware of my heart. Could everyone tell I was hiding something? Should I make sure to side hug people, or not hug people at all, so I wasn’t found out? But the biggest question of all…was my heart working properly?

The day of my doctor’s appointment, I almost punked out and didn’t go. All of a sudden, the thought, “What if something is wrong?” came flooding in. Which was followed by the just as helpful thought of, “I don’t have time to deal with a heart issue right now…there’s too much to do.” That thought made me wonder if it was time to get my head checked too! There’s NEVER a GOOD time to deal with a heart issue…but deal with it I must. Especially if the issue had any chance of killing me.

As timing would have it, this journey of my physical heart issues had come at the heels of a 2-year long journey of some spiritual heart issues. In January 2016, in a moment of great transition, I received a word that my season of working with my hands would turn into a season of God working on my heart. I was also told that God was trying to show me love, but I wasn’t receiving it. At the heart of the matter, I believe my heart had grown weary. Years of unmet expectations, feelings of being overlooked and abandonment had left me believing that no matter how much I worked, or tried, or cared…I wasn’t going to have what other people have.

So, in a sense, God put a heart monitor around my neck at that moment. I had become acutely aware of all my “ish.” I began a journey of letting go. Another season of being put out to pasture. Moved out far from everything and everyone I knew. Or at least, everyone I thought I knew. Obscurity. A season of not making a move unless it was a move that God told me to make. A season that He didn’t tell me to move much, which was way uncomfortable. A journey of learning to hear Him in new ways. A season of becoming acutely aware of my rhythm…a rhythm that was beginning to beat at the same pace as His. Connected to Him in a way that I had never been connected to Him before. Just like that heart monitor I had hanging around my neck…I went nowhere without Him and was aware of Him at all times. If my heart was off beat, I pressed into Him a lot like I pressed that little button any time I had a palpitation.

Well the good news is, nothing major was found at the end of two weeks. I can get back on track of doing what I need to do…drink less coke and eat more green stuff. I can’t say I’ve been 100% successful at that yet…but I believe I’ll arrive there at some point. As far as the work on my heart that God is doing…well, I’ve learned that journey will take a lifetime to complete. I’m grateful that I have the “heart monitor” AKA Holy Spirit “around my neck” at all times. He reminds me with a gentle nudge when my rhythm is off and teaches me how to love wider and deeper.