I'll be heading South later today. I'm going to celebrate Thanksgiving with my mother's side of the family. Good times; we always have good times. Can't wait to pull my little cousin Nick aside for a one on one chat. That boy (21, over 6 feet tall, plays college football) has a lot going on and his big cousin needs to hear where his head is. It's been about 18 months since we've had the chance to do that.
When I get back I have a lot to tackle...HEAD ON! Gotta break through that roadblock I mentioned in my last post. That's a MAJOR undertaking, but I have no coice but to be up for the challenge.
Pray for me!
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
The Power of "WE"
I am struggling right now. Not with my relationship with Jesus; not with ungodly living; not with habitual sin. I’m not even struggling with acknowledging and accepting God’s Call on my life anymore (I never thought I’d be able to say that). I am struggling with the past; or maybe it’s the future. Actually, I’m struggling with how events in the past may affect the future. I’ve prayed about it, I’ve cried about it, I’ve tried to ignore it, I’ve tried to psych myself out about it. None of that worked; it keeps sneaking up on me and jumping on my back in an attempt to wrestle me to the ground.
So, a few days ago, I was sitting with someone going over paperwork and I kept seeing a name…over and over and over again. Because of the nature of the work, it was necessary for me to read and so I kept saying the name…over and over and over again. I felt my stomach tightening as my mind went down a rabbit trail. What I mean is this; the name I kept seeing had nothing to do with what was bothering me, but the association of the name did. Seeing that name and allowing my mind to follow Peter Cottontail, took me back. So, as we finished our discussion and I was about to be excused; I stacked my papers and tapped them on the table to line up the edges….over and over and over again. For a few minutes, I was silent (if you know me, you know silence is not my M.O. unless I’m angry or in deep thought). I began to erase blank spots on the paper and my heart started to race. The tightening in my stomach increased and I blurted out the connection that name had. I glanced up into surprised, thoughtful eyes as the person to whom I was talking said; “oh, mmmm”…over and over and over again, before asking me a single question.
The question I was asked opened up another can of worms and then…there was silence again. I rubbed, scratched and stroked my face repeatedly as the tightening returned to my stomach and my heart began to race again. So, without looking up (I kept right on erasing blank spots on that paper); I asked for help. That is not something I do well. I mean, if I need help with a project or I don’t understand something, I have no problem asking. But, to ask a person to help me understand me…nope, no good at that. I purposely wasn’t clear in my asking because I was hoping the person with whom I was working and talking would exercise some form of ESP and know exactly what was troubling me without me having to say it. If they did, they didn’t let on; so the questions came and I began to explain.
I’d asked them not to give me typical “Christian” or “churchy” answers. I didn’t need a bunch of Scriptures thrown at me. I know what The Word of God says and this isn’t about the spirit man of Engla, this is about the flesh, the woman, the totally human side. So, I didn’t expect super spiritual answers. I kind of expected to be questioned about why this thing was still an issue and why I hadn’t been able to let it go and move on. But that’s not what I got. I got compassion, some solid counsel, some transparency that let me know the person understood exactly where I was coming from, assurance that I’m not crazy (at least not based on this particular matter), confirmation that there isn’t anything wrong with me, and a committed resolve that “we will get this fixed; we’ll get through this stuff”. How about that... We…not “you”; but “we”.
When you’re hurting, when you feel like you may be alone and perhaps out of your mind, when you are confused and unsure, when you’re facing a Goliath and you see yourself as David without even a sling shot or a single rock; “we” is the single most powerful, valuable, affirming word you can hear from another human being. Especially when that human being is one you trust and whose input and opinion you value. I know I’m facing a lot, but the assurance that I’m not facing it alone in the Earth realm makes it just a little less daunting. So I say, thank you to the “we” people in my life. When the “I” part of “we” wants to run, I am confident that the “you” part of “we” will insist I stand (even if you have to help hold me up). The best thing about “we”, is that it works both ways. Whatever you face; “we” will get through that too.
So, a few days ago, I was sitting with someone going over paperwork and I kept seeing a name…over and over and over again. Because of the nature of the work, it was necessary for me to read and so I kept saying the name…over and over and over again. I felt my stomach tightening as my mind went down a rabbit trail. What I mean is this; the name I kept seeing had nothing to do with what was bothering me, but the association of the name did. Seeing that name and allowing my mind to follow Peter Cottontail, took me back. So, as we finished our discussion and I was about to be excused; I stacked my papers and tapped them on the table to line up the edges….over and over and over again. For a few minutes, I was silent (if you know me, you know silence is not my M.O. unless I’m angry or in deep thought). I began to erase blank spots on the paper and my heart started to race. The tightening in my stomach increased and I blurted out the connection that name had. I glanced up into surprised, thoughtful eyes as the person to whom I was talking said; “oh, mmmm”…over and over and over again, before asking me a single question.
The question I was asked opened up another can of worms and then…there was silence again. I rubbed, scratched and stroked my face repeatedly as the tightening returned to my stomach and my heart began to race again. So, without looking up (I kept right on erasing blank spots on that paper); I asked for help. That is not something I do well. I mean, if I need help with a project or I don’t understand something, I have no problem asking. But, to ask a person to help me understand me…nope, no good at that. I purposely wasn’t clear in my asking because I was hoping the person with whom I was working and talking would exercise some form of ESP and know exactly what was troubling me without me having to say it. If they did, they didn’t let on; so the questions came and I began to explain.
I’d asked them not to give me typical “Christian” or “churchy” answers. I didn’t need a bunch of Scriptures thrown at me. I know what The Word of God says and this isn’t about the spirit man of Engla, this is about the flesh, the woman, the totally human side. So, I didn’t expect super spiritual answers. I kind of expected to be questioned about why this thing was still an issue and why I hadn’t been able to let it go and move on. But that’s not what I got. I got compassion, some solid counsel, some transparency that let me know the person understood exactly where I was coming from, assurance that I’m not crazy (at least not based on this particular matter), confirmation that there isn’t anything wrong with me, and a committed resolve that “we will get this fixed; we’ll get through this stuff”. How about that... We…not “you”; but “we”.
When you’re hurting, when you feel like you may be alone and perhaps out of your mind, when you are confused and unsure, when you’re facing a Goliath and you see yourself as David without even a sling shot or a single rock; “we” is the single most powerful, valuable, affirming word you can hear from another human being. Especially when that human being is one you trust and whose input and opinion you value. I know I’m facing a lot, but the assurance that I’m not facing it alone in the Earth realm makes it just a little less daunting. So I say, thank you to the “we” people in my life. When the “I” part of “we” wants to run, I am confident that the “you” part of “we” will insist I stand (even if you have to help hold me up). The best thing about “we”, is that it works both ways. Whatever you face; “we” will get through that too.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
My Pastor
I haven't blogged in a while and this one will be brief. Yesterday afternoon, we lost one of the greatest women of God of this era; Apostle Betty P. Peebles of the Jericho City of Praise. Pastor Betty; as I lovingly called her; was a great teacher and a woman of true integrity. I will miss her terribly. She has taught me so much and I will forever carry with me the many, many things I learned at her feet.
I know all of the "proper Christian" things I'm supposed to say. But truth be told, I can't rejoice. I can't thank God...not right now. At this moment, all I feel is an incredible sadness. I know it will ease, but right now, in this moment, this is where I am and I need to be here for just a little while.
I know all of the "proper Christian" things I'm supposed to say. But truth be told, I can't rejoice. I can't thank God...not right now. At this moment, all I feel is an incredible sadness. I know it will ease, but right now, in this moment, this is where I am and I need to be here for just a little while.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Too Much of a Good Thing
Here's Gus trying to scale the back of the couch and make a quick getaway. I guess she was tired of the gifts, the sugar cookies (yes, we let the baby eat a cookie) and the pictures. Of course, the monkey pajamas were a gift from me. Is it obvious why I thought monkeys were appropriate?
I'm outta here, folks!
- Gus McMonkey, Escape Artist
I'm outta here, folks!- Gus McMonkey, Escape Artist
Gus's First Christmas
Here are some pictures from my neice's first Christmas. This girl loves to be photographed; and it's a good thing, because her Auntie loves to take pictures.
And no, her name is not really Gus. It's a shortened version of her previous nickname "The Wuggus". Gus just stuck and believe it or not, it suits her perfectly.
No, she is not blowing kisses. She's doing her Native American battle cry.
Posing for her public.
I promise, she only had the tissue paper in her mouth for a second.
Now, if only I could get her 14 year old brother to be as cooperative when I try to take his picture. Actually, I'd be satisfied if he'd return a phone call. Alas, I remember being a teenager and I'm sure most days I bore him to tears. Fortunately, the baby is only 11 months old and still finds me entertaining and interesting.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
My Boy on the Tractor
Okay, this picture is old...months old. It was taken the first week of March when we had a lot of snow in Southern Maryland. I still think it's a great picture. This is my then 13-year-old (he turned 14 in June) nephew on my Dad's tractor. He drove it over from my Dad's house to push my driveway. I always say "plow", but since it's really not a plow, he informed me that he's "pushing" the snow! I took this standing in the back door of my house while I was watching him. My Mother wants me to print her a large black and white copy to have framed. She wants to display it with a coal drawing she had done of the house in which she grew up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)