All I Need

Sufficient

Adie Camp

Hear my heart Lord as I cry out to You
Hear my prayer Lord and carry me through
In Your mercy in the promise You made
Be my strength Lord when my strength fades away

Cause when I am weak Your strength is complete
It's perfect
Completely all I need
Sufficient for me
Your grace and peace are perfect
Completely all I need
You're all that I need

In my weakness I'm finding Your strength
In my sorrow a gentle embrace
Through the seasons of laughter or pain
You are listening
When I call out Your name

I'll find You when I seek
I'll look for You with all of my heart
And I'll find You when I'm weak
Cause You are strong

Hear my heart Lord as I cry out to You
Hear my prayer Lord and carry me through
Carry me through

You Can't Handle the Truth

Tonight, believe it or not, I have few words...

I do NOT understand God... it's not that I have ever tried to "figure Him out", it's just that when I think I might know Him, He changes.  I know... bad terminology.  HE doesn't change, but my understanding or perception of Him does.  He perplexes my intellect. He confounds my doctrine. He crushes my precepts, dogma and persuasions. 

It's not that truth, as I have presumed it, is no longer true. There is absolute truth.  Whether I believe something to be true or not does not change the veracity of truth. 

But... what if the vastness of truth is so far beyond my comprehension, that even attempts to understand it, prove the most futile of pursuits. 

I find myself tonight, and perhaps in a season of, an overwhelming sense of consternation.  I am experiencing aspects of what have the appearance of intense grace, but what most would consider "bad theology"... even I.  I don't know what to do with it...

My intellect "warns" of possible deception... but my spirit, the dwelling place of the Spirit of God, resists such a judgment, such reasoning.  "It" cuts deeply and vehemently through my conjectures and suppositions...

Have I so grossly underestimated the magnitude of God's grace that I cannot even recognize it?  Have I prostituted His goodness for "good theology"? 

I am genuinely struggling to put into words all that I am feeling and questioning...

What I know tonight is, that God is infinitely more than I can grasp... His love and His grace are indescribably... extravagantly... more than I can possibly absorb...

'Nuff said.

Nothing Really

I realize that anyone could read this meaningless little blog; but I have made the decision, that as I write, I will do so without thinking about any specific readers.   I need to have the freedom to write whatever is on my heart or mind without being concerned about who or how it may affect a potential reader; or burden myself with thoughts of someone questioning my motives in writing on certain topics.

This is MY blog.  It is an outlet for me, an escape of sorts.  It is where I can be overtly Steffanie... please allow me the freedom to do that.  I welcome your comments. In fact, I actually look forward to "discovering" them... they are like little gifts (cheesy I know, but honest).  I enjoy hearing the feedback of your thoughts on the subject or even (gulp) how I presented the subject.

I am going to pray here tonight...  I don't even really know why, except that tonight I need to cry out Jesus and as you read you can pray with me if you'd like

Father,

You alone are worthy.  You are good and kind.  Your grace and patience are beyond my ability to understand... thank you is SO trite but it is all I have.  I love and adore You.  Your provisions are countless.  It is in Your presence that I find the deepest peace...

Cast me not away from Your presence, Oh God. Take not Your Holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me, the joy of Your salvation; and renew a right spirit within me.

Papa, you know the deepest needs of my heart... I do not.  I know that my heart deceives me; it guides me into places that are not safe for me.  Help me discern safe places.  My heart Lord, is shattered... maybe beyond repair.  Only You know.

I bring some especially close friends before You tonight... seal them in love and bind them together in perfect peace. Bring healing and wholeness.  Give me words of life that I may speak over them as I pray for them.

Forgive me Father,  I am going to sleep now... I cannot even keep my eyes open to finish this.  I love and adore You. May Your grace abound! But ultimatey, may You be glorified!

I bring these things to You in the precious name of JESUS.  Amen.




**I actually wrote this last night... apparently, I fell asleep and woke up 10 hours later to find I had not posted it... I needed that-Thank You, Jesus.

Home Alone

I'm having trouble sleeping yet another night... so I thought I would come and hang out here for awhile.  Maybe I will bore myself to sleep. 

I am struggling a little tonight with some jealousy.  Random right?  It actually surprises me a little.  This is something with which I have I not struggled much.  If any of you reading this know me personally, you know my where life has been and is.  So all things considered, I really have not battled this much, albeit odd. 

I think the catalyst is seeing some of the people around me having what used to be mine.  Being married to your best friend, the one who would die for you.  The one who lays beside you, laughing at the truly dumbest things together; and the one who lays beside you who holds you while you cry together.  Convincing the children you are going upstairs to take a Sunday afternoon "nap".  Sharing inside jokes that no one else in the room gets but the two of you.  Still being friends... while having them walk through the hell of life with you... that's what I envy the most right now... even if it's a hell created by the one of you, you still get to walk it out together.  There is power in that... there is power in being together.  I really miss together. 

It's not all of the feelings of romantic love that I miss, while great, those have a shelf life, in any relationship.  It is that place of just knowing someone else has your back...always.  That at the end of a really bad day, you get to end it with someone you love and who loves you back.  Being with the person whose footsteps you know; whose cough, laugh,and even sniff, you would know without hesitation.  It's being together even with other couples or families and getting to go home together and share the memories of those times.  It is getting to watch and hear some pretty neat stuff with your children and share the memories of the moments... together.  I find myself having to fight through these feelings as I watch husbands usher their wives out of church with children in tow... leaving together;  as I walk out to my minivan (a family vehicle) and sink into the dreaded driver's seat... alone.  I really miss together.  

I had a close friend confide in me recently about some frustrations of their, just under 20 year, marriage.  This friend shared about, what I would describe as, the mundane and menial things that are very common at that length marriage.  May I propose, that those things that would be considered mundane, menial, common, maybe even at times boring, are the very things that provide safety, security and on some level, comfort... why? Because they are being done together.   Embrace it.  Cherish it.  Be intentional.  Make memories... together.  You are living in the days that you will talk about for the rest of your life, should you get the gift of longevity.  I am telling you, on this side... alone... is far worse than together. 

   

Not Bad Lookin' For a Fat Chic

This post will be short and sweet... ok, mostly short.  I have come to the conclusion that I have become so much more sinister, cynical and negative than I ever wanted be.  I'm going to spend some more time with Daddy to get to the root of it.  I hate it.  Primarily, because I see it present its ugly head most often toward my children.  Rather than looking for the best, I simply seem to see only the worst.   The most hideous thing about that is (gulp) I have become much to quick to point it out.

I am going to do what I do NOT want to do here... confess.  (It is always so much worse when you have to actually say it.)  Let me give you an example.  As soon as my oldest, teenage daughter got into the van after school, the very first words out of my mouth were, "Is that really what you wore to school today? Why don't you care how sloppy that looks?" She just rolled her eyes.  Mind you, she was completed covered.  Nothing inappropriate- for which I should be (and am) glad.  I have other friends with quite the opposite problem. But it didn't end there.  I went on. (Bigger gulp.) "Did you even wash your mascara off last night before bed... it's all running under your eyes." She turned her head away from me and just stared out the window.  What's wrong with me??

Part of me justifies my actions. Deplorable as they may be.  I know people treat you differently depending on how you look... I know this by experience.  I was treated one way as an obese woman (that's a whole other blog); but quite differently when I got smaller; from people at the mall to people at church.  It's true. 

Let me digress for a moment.  Just a couple of weeks ago I was in a conversation with some very close friends of mine.  They confronted me about something I had done/said in relationship to the husband.  I asked them if what I did and said would have been seen differently, if one: I were in a healthy marriage; two: if I was still fat.  The answer? YES.  I could have done and said the EXACT same thing and the response would have just been, "Oh, that's just Steffanie."  They literally admitted this to me. How I looked factored into how even some of my closest adult friends, treated me or responded to my interaction with them.  It matters.

How do I balance this unfortunate reality, with the efforts of teaching my girls to not allow what others think of them to affect who they are... but it does.  (I have now gone in a completely different direction than first I intended here.)  But the question is one that continues to push to the forefront with me.  How do I balance this for myself.  I used to, almost  obsessively, never leave the house without makeup.  When you are obese, people make assumptions about you; you are lazy, undisciplined, and a slob.  I worked to counteract these stereotypes.  If you are being honest, if a skinny girl walks into Walmart with a holey sweatshirt and sweatpants, you probably won't even notice her.  But if a woman (or man for that matter) walked in wearing the same thing at 250 pounds, those assumptions begin to cross your mind.  They have mine.  So I fought to be the "cute" "big" girl; by what I wore, and never being seen without makeup. I wish I could give you a count of how many times I heard, "You have such a pretty face." FYI- we "big" girls KNOW what that really means: "You're not bad looking for a fat chic."  I'm not just being funny here.  Have you ever heard that said, or thought it, about a skinny girl? Have you ever heard someone say to a thin woman "You have such a pretty face"? Yeah, me either.  It matters.

I have a lot more freedom in how I look... do I want to present myself well? Sure.  But it doesn't drive me like it used to.  I prefer to wear my makeup, but I don't stress if I am "caught" without it.  I wear sweatpants, holey jeans and grungy work shirts.  Would I still do that if I were obese? I don't know.  But I know I am beginning to care less what others think of me... or am I now just transferring that to what others think of my daughter? Ugh.

I am sure I will continue to revisit this issue... it is too cyclical to not.  Until then, I am going to work at God's instruction to "...encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today...".  You know what, my daughter looked...um, uh... comfortable! Yeah, comfortable.  Comfortable in her own skin... I want to be like her when I grow up.

Giant Print Edition

Wow.  Just started typing out this post and went back to increase the font size because I couldn’t see what I was typing.  That has determined the direction of this post.  Let’s do something a little more light hearted than several of the previous musings.

Aging sucks.  I am not even forty yet…I know, it’s creeping; but the aging process has been increasingly noticeable in the last year.  I would like to fault the events of life’s recent circumstances, and perhaps they have played a part; but overall it is just the suckiness (yeah, that’s right suckiness- is that with an i or a y?) of pushing 40. 

When did the distinction between my butt and legs vanish?  Or at what precise moment did I mistake my hands for my mother’s? (No intended offense Mother, but you are 23 years older than I.) Dear lord, do I even want to go into facial hair?  It’s like I woke up one morning and could create a locks-of-loves donation for the Chin Hair Club for Women; and that’s a whole separate issue from the verity that I now have more chins than the Chinese phone book (this is not a racial slur; it could be likened to saying- more Schmidt than a German outhouse, just not as fitting.) 

Now, I will say the “up” side to the bust issue is just that.  With age, and having nursed three children, if I want to wear them up, I can wear them up.  If I want to wear them down, I can wear them down.  I can now even wear them to the side. Versatility.  That’s how I’m gonna roll with it (as the whippersnappers say). Nevertheless, I am still frustrated with the whole concurrent arrival of wrinkles AND zits… one of life’s greatest injustices. 

I have also become aware, that I no longer simply arise from a chair… I lean, slide and push up. What is that??  My knees also sound like Rice Krispies upon both, the ascent and descent, of the freaking stairs.  I don’t even know if I can stomach the details regarding hair.  Why is it, that for every two hairs I lose, only one GREY hair replaces it?  Those ratios are completely out of proportion… and SO not in my favor.  Those of you with great hair (and you so know who you are), should be on your face before our Creator in humble thanksgiving for your crown of glory. (Blehk…I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth.)

Okay, well I had the early bird special; watched 60 minutes from the davenport; and the sun has already set so I should probably turn in for the night (I love my Craftmatic Adjustable).  Anybody seen my bi-focals so I can see where to shut off this new-fangled piece of machinery? :/

Tonight's Menu: Lentil Loaf

I don't want to post something on here just to be posting.  I don't want to use up words and space without meaning.  Yet, as I have mentioned in many a post, I often "get" something from Papa when I begin to write.  Although, I am beginning to wonder if He has anything to say to or through me right me now. 

I have heard it said recently, that the Teacher usually  remains silent during a test.  What if I have taken the test and failed?  It is not the failure of the test that is so disconcerting (although painful);  I just know, because God is a good Teacher, that He will "allow" me to take the test again and again until I pass it.  He wants me to pass.  He produces provisions for me to pass.  My spirit says, "Then how can I fail?!" But my soul cries out, "What if it's no longer in me?".  What if I just want to lay my head down on the desk and go to sleep?  Can I just drop out? 

A close friend and I were grappling with this very matter today.  Pain can often times be SO deep, SO intense, SO chronic and unrelenting, that many times we are willing to do just about anything to make it stop.  We want to believe anything that remotely offers to immobilize it,  lessen the frequency of it, or at least provide respite from it. 

I think one of the enemy's greatest deceptions is to tempt us into believing, if we throw in the proverbial towel, that things will get easier.  If we would just cease from waging war... if we would wave the notorious white flag... if we surrender in defeat...resign; then the pain would no longer overwhelm us.  We could get off the tumultuous treadmill of anguish and grief.  No longer would perpetual rejection, justifiable anger, or addiction battle against our emotions or actions.  It may not be freedom in its truest sense or even how we want to experience it, but it would be relief. So we think.

I am reminded of David's three "mighty men"(2 Samuel 23:8-13).  Adino killed 800 men at one time. Eleazer defied the Philistines, after the rest of the men of Israel retreated, by attacking them "until his hand was weary, and his hand stuck to his sword." Finally, Shammah, also abandoned by his troops, "stationed himself in the middle of a lentil field, defended it, and killed the Philistines."  The scriputure pronounces that God brought about great victories through them... for an entire nation.

I can only surmise that, after oh, let's say a couple/few hundred defeated, Adino would have hoped that his battle was soon over. Certainly he was exhausted. Worn down. Despondent, no less.   What if he had stopped there?  What if he stopped at 799?  I am left to wonder if there would have been victory... 

Eleazer? "Determined" is a grotesque understatement.  He was indomitable. What kind of man fights until there is such a grip on his sword that it becomes one with his hand?  Surely he was in excruiating pain.  I reason that it is entirely probable that he lost his hand.  I propose that he considered liberating the sword to save his hand.  Would he experience a sense of relief each time he looked at his fully intact hand; or would the bitterness of defeat haunt him? 

Finally, Shammah. (He's my favorite.)  A lentil patch? Really?  There he was, in the middle of a field, deserted by his troops, surrounded by Philistines.  I can almost hear him. "My family and I tilled this field.  I toiled in this field.  I planted these lentils. I watched over these lentils. I watered these lentils. I weeded these lentils.  I'm going to flippin' eat them!"  What audaciouness.  Could it be that he reconsidered his stand? Might he, standing alone, surrounded by the enemy, have begun to reach for the white flag?  How could he not have weighed out the inevitable fatigue, the foreseeable defeat, the utter hopelessness of a victory, the likelyhood of making his wife a widow?  Retreating must have looked like wisdom... His wife may have had a husband, but would their nation prosper?

I don't know what lies ahead... I do not even know what to expect with the sun's rising, except that it will.  I do know I want to be "done" in so many areas and in so many ways.  My flesh is ready to liberate the sword, retreat in exhaustion, or at least seek a temporary respite.  BUT, if I choose to not press on, will the Lord give me a great victory?

I too, wanna eat my flippin' lentils... I pray I have the strength to stand.

Memoirs of a Midget

I have gone back and forth about whether or not I would post this.  I have decided it is just to "rich" not to do it.  Our middle daughter has a birthday the end of February.  She will be 12 this year (omg).  She has recently learned that this is a leap year and is fascinated by it.  While on the trip home from school she begins, once again, to wonder out loud about it. 

"Mommy, you know that if I had been born on leap year I would technically only be 3."

Smiling, "Yes, honey I understand what you are what saying. But not necessarily technically. You would still be 12."

Deeply serious, "Ok? But I was wondering, Mom.  If I had been born on leap year would I still be in a really little body like when I was three?"

With every ounce of volitional choice to forbid the eruption of laughter, I choke out, "Ahem, um... no, Sweetie. You would still have grown into the body you have now."

* I adore this child. She is simple and exact.  She is on the honor roll.  Yet, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I am still brooding over how this child was produced by my husband and me.

** I am expectantly awaiting her next inquiry. "So were midgets born on leap years?"

*** Yes, I know the "pc" terminology is "little people", but she would say midget! :o) 

You Never Let Go

 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
Your perfect love is casting out fear
And even when I'm caught in the middle of the storms of this life
I won't turn back
I know you are near.

And I will fear no evil
For my God is with me
And if my God is with me
Whom then shall I fear?
Whom then shall I fear?

Oh no, You never let go
Through the calm and through the storm
Oh no, You never let go
In every high and every low
Oh no, You never let go
Lord, You never let go of me

And I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on
A glorious light beyond all compare
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
We'll live to know You here on the earth.

Yes, I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on
And there will be an end to these troubles
But until that day comes
Still I will praise You, still I will praise You!

Worship with me...

Private Ponderings (well, kinda)

I am sitting in a “park”… should be working, I know.  However, I am thoroughly distracted by the ponderings of my own hypocrisy.  I have preached, exhorted, encouraged, even demanded of people that I love, to “take their thoughts captive”.  Yet, I feel as though my own feeble attempts to do so are like trying to lasso the wind.  Tell me I am not alone in this.  Why can I not seem to walk out the very thing I have “sermonized” so many times?  I have not been without victory in this… so why is this SO hard now?

I have come to the point in my life where I despise my own humanity.  I know these are things as Christians we are not say out loud, but I am so over that… I told a friend recently that I believed part of my calling was to speak life, abundant life into others.  How could I possibly speak into someone what I cannot seem to live out?  I KNOW that Jesus has and wants more for me… I KNOW that… but my heart cannot seem to grasp this.  It is as if everything I have ever learned has been thrown out the proverbial window…

As one who often operates within my intellect, I am finding it increasingly difficult to know what to do with all of the questions of the heart that cannot be “answered”.  If I were looking at myself and my circumstances from the outside, I would know exactly how I would counsel me.   Let me try to articulate what I mean. I would say, “You have legs… I know you don’t feel like you do, but you do.  Now on that truth, get up and walk.”   I get that.  But somewhere I must not really believe my legs, if I still have them, will really allow me to walk… or is it that I don’t believe that walking will really be better than not walking.  Am I making any sense at all?

Please do not leave me any comments about how I need to quit trying to “figure it out”.  I am really quite tired of hearing people tell me that… it is part of how I am wired. Deal with it. (Sorry, that was a little harsh.)  I need a safe place to just be honest about where I am… right now, that place is here.

Whoever you are, wherever you are… thanks for “listening”.

Coming Out of the Closet

Most often, I am fairly insightful when it comes to discerning specific issues or concerns with my children.  But yesterday I had something occur with my youngest that I still have yet to uncover.

Let me give you some background.  My husband and I conceived twins 16 years ago. I gave birth to death on July 25, 1996.  Our son and daughter were not even one pound each and died in womb.  We knew, for two excruciatingly longs days, that their tiny lives had ceased  before their delivery, but were uncertain as to their sex.  My husband, without that knowledge (of gender) declared their names: Joshua and Jennifer. The doctor's initial pronouncement was that they were girls, but after closer examination (they were so tiny and had already begun to decompose in womb) realized that one, in fact, was a little boy.  Our only son.  To maintain the focus of this post, I do not need to go into the detail of that season of our life... that may be for another day.

We have talked openly about the twins (and two miscarriages) with our living children.  We have taken them to the cemetery to see where their brother and sister are buried.  Our girls also know that, as sad and painful as it was for us, if Jesus had not taken Joshua and Jennifer home, we would not have them and we would not want it differently.

Shortly following their birth/death, my mother gave me a set of Lennox porcelain dolls.  Newborn babies. Twins.  A baby boy dressed in a blue sleeper with a tiny blue blanket; and a girl in the same but in pink. Both with their eyes closed... so peaceful.  I keep them "displayed" in my closet on a shelf.  The girls have been reminded countless times who they represent and that they are not toys.

Present day... I was in the bathroom yesterday, getting ready to come out, when I  noticed my youngest daughter (8yo)  standing in the doorway.  She was cradling the boy baby doll tightly in her arms and close to her chest.  She burst into tears and cried, "I WANT A BROTHER!"... more tears. She just looked at me with tears streaming down her face and then held "him" up to her face to nuzzle him more closely.  I simply walked over to her and drew her into my chest.  I assured her that she was certainly feeling a lot of emotions right now and was probably really tired too... what could I say?

I don't want to psycho-analyze her, but I do not want to ignore it either.  So I suppose this particular post is really to take in any of your thoughts, discernment or counsel.

I confess, there are days I am so thankful that some of my children were spared the pain of this life...

Awh, Fatty!

I realize that what I am about to post some of you will not find nearly as funny as I do (ahem, those of the maternal nature).  May I remind you that this is MY blog. :)  I have been in enough of a funk lately that I literally watched the following video enough times that I began the "awh, Fatty!" laugh* that I have not done in a very long time.  You don't have to think it's funny... but more than likely, you'll watch it more than once. :D

*"Awh, Fatty" is a bit by Adam Sandler- this is what my husband affectionately calls me when I start laughing until I wheeze.  It became slightly awkward for other people (to our amusement) to hear him say that to me as a (then) obese woman!

I guess this would make me the "black lung"

Here I Go Again on My Own (not really- just a cool 80's throwback)

Eyes open?  Check. Feet to the floor?  Check.  Coffee?  Check.  Good morning, Monday.  Thankfully Mondays are not new for me... this ain't my first rodeo. (Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to even write "ain't", even when I am trying to be cute?)  I am really going to begin this week with a new focus... uh, I just need to figure out what that's going to be first.  The fact that I was out of bed by six is good; a start.  I know several of you who read my blog, and some of you I do not.  But any of you who talk to Jesus, I would love for your conversation with Him to include me on some level if that is cool to ask of you.

There are many things I don't get to do/have "my" way in this life... I was really walking in a place of freedom when I was surrendered to His way.  I have somehow walked away from that.  I have been incredibly focused on all that I can't have, don't have, that I know I have lost sight of all that I do have in Christ.   That being said, I also know that I am too weak, without others around me, to manufacture that level of focus right now... I need you to raise up my arms.  I don't usually pine for this, but if you have a word of encouragement please feel free to leave it under the comments or there is an email link under my profile (I think) where you can send me an email directly from this site (I think the email availability is under the first contributor profile-blogger not google+).

I realize that this really is not a post with much "color" and I hope to change that soon, but it is a dimension of me... right where I am.  I cannot be anyone or anywhere else right now. 

I am surrounded by some pretty amazing people.  May I just tell you in advance to your prayers and encouragements: 

I love you...

It Matters

I have returned home.  My mind has been everywhere but where it needs to be, so more than likely, I will have several different postings (trying to keep the things in my head sorted out in some manner) this afternoon/evening.  Bear with me... (or not. You don't have to read any it!).


I looked around the room this afternoon at the people in the retirement home.  While I may be far from "old" I am so in the aging process.  I have found myself looking in the mirror more lately. (Yeah, that's a little awkward to admit.)  I must tell you, I am less than thrilled at what is looking back at me.  I don't know that I have ever thought myself ugly (there is always better and thereby always worse).  But I don't care what they tell you in church, or anywhere else for that matter, beauty does matter to a girl.  I KNOW that what most matters is the beauty of the soul.  I fully agree and get that.  But to say that a girl shouldn't care about how she looks it completely unrealistic. 


It totally matters whether or not a woman feels beautiful.  I will confess, I thought it would become significantly less important as I got older... it hasn't.  I had a friend, of the male persuasion, tell me recently, that a man wants to know at certain age that he's still got "it".  I don't know that as women we need to know that so much, as we want to know if we are seen as beautiful... genuinely beautiful.  The kind of beauty that stands out... that gets noticed...  that is specific.  Are my eyes beautiful?  Even if they are now showing the footprints of small birds?  Do they intrigue you?  Is my smile one that captivates your heart? Even if the lines around it remain when the smile doesn't? What about my hair? My nose? I don't need to go on... read the Song of Songs.  Solomon shows us how it's done.  Even scripture validates our need to know... to feel... to be... beautiful.  It totally matters.


If it doesn't matter, then why did most of the women at the service today still have their hair done and many with make-up on?  Of course it matters.  I know it matters to me... even with more gray hair, lines and ugh- fat.  Maybe especially now.  I had someone give me a really nice compliment on my twitter profile picture. I was actually surprised and a little embarrassed at how good it made me feel... it matters.


But I do know that when I come to the end of my life, ultimately the physical beauty, as I know it, will fade... it will be who I am and what I've become that will display my truest beauty .  I hope to feed my soul and live my life in such a way that when I am 97, I will have a man look me in the eyes and tell me how beautiful I am...
(ok, let's not play... I'd take it at 38!)  

*Sigh*

I am getting ready to go the local retirement community to have an opportunity to serve through music... I feel so inadequate and unworthy today.  But it will be good to focus on others.  I will go, using the gifts God has given me, but somehow it feels less than my best.


Worship was good this morning... a few more of my "go to" songs were appropriately sung (Blessed Be Your Name, Hosanna- Paul Baloche I love him, Hear Us From Heaven).  I must keep my eyes on Him. 


Why is it such a battle these days?  The loneliness that has set in is almost unbearable.  Actually, it is a little scary.  I haven't struggled with this in as long as I can remember, believe it or not.  This is the first time in years we have not been invited somewhere to watch the Superbowl.  My oldest is going to a church party and my youngest two have been invited to go watch the game with their daddy... is Jesus trying to kill me?  I don't want to be alone today... again.


I'm sure I will be checking in later... off now to attempt to make other people happy.

The Crying Game

I am thankful to have had a good night at church tonight.  I am even more thankful for the dearest friends... truly.  Having a good experience tonight, while needed, leads me to another place of honesty.  I am anxious about going to my "home" church tomorrow.  See, very few people actually know me on Saturday nights.  I can go worship, hear good teaching, be blessed and go home.  I know that is not how "church" is supposed be.  We are to know each other... be in community... live life together.  But that is part of why I am struggling.

Most people only have a "Sunday morning" perspective of who I am.  Not because of anything that I am trying to hide nor anyone else's neglect; but I believe it is a combination of not really having the time to get to know one another and people often decide what they want to believe about you, true or not.  Sadly, I wish this were only true of people I know casually. 

Let me try to explain.  As you now know, I have had a pretty awful week.  I 've felt extremely alone and at times in deep sadness (among other crap).  I cannot go to church in the morning and just be in this emotional "place" with people.  Please understand, I am all about authenticity and being real.  I am not about wearing masks.  Most often, I am who I am, like it or not. 

Here is the problem: people do not know what to do with Steffanie when she is not "like" Steffanie.  For those who do not know me well, they assume something is wrong with them if I somehow overlook them because I am distracted in my pain.  Because I am generally and genuinely about other people, if there is an occurence where that is not happening they become offended.  Then there are those who do know me better, even well in some cases.  If I do not come in "shining" they can spot it fairly quickly. 

I would not be exaggerating to say that some of them, upon seeing my "lack of luster", will actually walk away before making eye contact... they don't know what to say.  And then there are those who know me well (this is true in any area of my life not just church), but do not know how to "handle" me when I am down.  I am sure that is in part because I rarely am, but when I am down, it's not pretty.  I also think that people have come to know and expect me as the truth-telling exhorter; which I am... most of the time.  But I am multi-dimensional.  People see me as strong, capable, witty, encouraging, and happy.  I am all of these things.  But I can also be weak, (utterly weak) incapable, and deeply wounded; and guess what... I even cry.  I am telling you, people do not know how to handle me when I am in one of those such places. 

Very few people have seen me cry... like actually sniffing, snotting, or any noise, crying.  There are two reasons for that.  One, I don't cry when you are supposed to cry... like at funerals or when someone else it crying, really, about anytime it is expected. I hate it actually... I feel it inside of me but nothing comes out. (Although, I am a sap for Folgers commercials, Hallmark- I take kleenex when picking out cards and chic flicks.)  I just realized as I made that list those are all times that I am typically alone or noone is really watching me.  That leads me to the second reason. 

This last reason goes back to what I said earlier... people do not know how to handle me, or deal with me when I'm down or crying.  I wish I could describe to you the looks on people's faces when they look onto my tears... so I just don't cry much in front of others; to spare them the apparent torment of feeling helpless.  Not only that, but it feels like a rejection of me... that place in me that needs to cry, that needs to feel deeply, is a dimension of me.  If someone cannot handle that, they are essentially rejecting a part of me.  I am not making this stuff up... I have been told (more than once) that people have confessed to not knowing what to do with me.

This is one of the deepest appreciations I have had for my husband (and one of the things I miss so terribly).  He was never afraid of my tears.  He most often, just had an innate sense as to what I needed and he just did it.  He let me cry.  He did not judge me.  He never questioned if my tears were manipulative (and they weren't).  He didn't question me at all.  He didn't think me weak.  He let that dimension of me play out without even a hint of wondering what was "wrong" with me.  It was one of his truest forms of love and acceptance of me.  If I cried hard, even to the place of weeping and sobbing, he just held me tighter... God, I miss that.

VERY few have seen me cry like my husband has... but if you are one of them, thank you.  Thank you for making it safe enough and being strong enough.

So, tomorrow will come.  I will walk into a church full of people, husbands with their wives, father's with their children,  and I with loneliness, a broken heart, and a smile... no one will know the difference.  No one will know that I am sparing them from the awkwardness of not knowing how to respond. 

I just had this "vision" of Jesus walking up to me as I am looking to the floor... He lifts my face up from under my chin, looks me in the eyes and says "Broken is beautiful Baby... you are beautiful and accepted exactly as you are Steffanie, not in part but the whole of who you are."  I begin weeping... uncontrollaby... and it is good.

State of Heart

As an occasional reader in the bloggisphere, I am easily annoyed with those that frequently post songs.   I am on your blog because I want to read what you have to say.  Yet, I now find myself as a musician (using that term loosely) and singer (slightly more accurate), with few words (withhold snickering); as such, it is the power of music and articulation of other, more adept artists, that seem to best express my current state of heart and mind.  Please indulge (or forgive) me...

Who can hold the stars
And my weary heart?
Who can see everything?

I've fallen so hard
Sometimes I feel so far
But not beyond your reach

I could climb a mountain
Swim the ocean
Or do anything
But it's when you hold me
That I start unfolding
And all I can say is

Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me
Help me to sing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me
I'll choose to sing hallelujah

The same sun that
Rises over castles
And welcomes the day

Spills over buildings
Into the streets
Where orphans play

And only you can see the good
In broken things
You took my heart of stone
And you made it home
And set this prisoner free

Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me
Help me to sing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Whatever's in front of me
I'll choose to sing hallelujah

 (Bethany Dillon - I first heard this on Pandora where she does a complete acoustic version...beautiful.)

Whatever's in front of me help me sing hallelujah...



Voice of Truth

I am sure I am not the only one experiencing this: the war in your soul rages... you desperately want to follow your heart. The "calling" is SO strong that you believe if you go where it wants to take you, that an ocean of relief will overwhelm your soul; like an unquenchable thirst finally satisfied with streams of water. Yet, the Truth reminds you that the heart decieves you and wants to take you where your spirit cannot allow. Speak ever so loudly Voice of Truth...come strengthen my broken heart and utterly weak flesh.

Free Falling

I really should not be posting right now... I am not in the frame of mind that will express encouragement to others.  However, this is MY blog and I need to "talk" but I really don't want to talk to anyone.  Does that make sense?  To those of you who are external processors, you get me.

This has been a really bad day...  it's been hard all week actually, but it has gotten progressively worse; today it peaked (I hope).  My life circumstances have remained essentially the same.  But I have had to face some minor set-backs.  I have had to deal with yet another issue of betrayal and deceit from someone close to me. I have been home most of the week (our office has been closed) trying to get caught up on some things; I am now thoroughly disgusted with myself for not accomplishing that.  Yet, I cannot discern any one "thing" that has provoked me.  It is the culmination of things I suppose. 

I wish I could completely describe all that I am feeling... all that is weighing so heavily... It doesn't even seem to be in my mind, it is like a deep, intense agitation of the soul.  Ok, so to be completely confessional, of course some of it I have battled in my mind and heart, but it seems to go even deeper. 

I have made some really bad choices in the not so distant past... unthinkable, actually.  While I know there has been genuine repentance and forgiveness, I can't help but think that part of what I may be experiencing is some residual effect of my sin. 

I received a text today that said, "Being a Christian doesn't mean I won't fall... it means Jesus will catch me when I do..."  Well, I have fallen and I now I feel like I am free falling.  

I am surrounded by incredible friends and family... incredible; but I feel SO alone.  I want to stop falling, Jesus...  I want to be caught and then held by You.  Oh, that You could lay beside me and have arms to wrap around me until I fell asleep...  I want to feel covered... protected... safe... accepted... cherished...

I'm tired... I don't want to be in the driver's seat anymore.  I want to be led into righteousness.  Is it time yet, Father? Are we almost there?  How much longer, Daddy?

I know I am to be more than a conqueror, but today, this Warrior is a child...

My Daddy Calls it "Stinkin' Thinkin'"

I received an email this morning from someone very close to me who has been struggling with some physical issues... nothing critical or life threatening (which testing has confirmed), but the issues are limiting; some of which, with the passing of NO judgement, are repercussions of some life choices, adding to the emotional drain.  I have their permission to share portions of my response to their email.  I am sharing it here because, in usual Jesus-to-Steffanie fashion, He taught and encouraged me as I wrote. And I pray He may show you something of Himself in it as well.

*Note* I will use {........} for information that I have intentionally omitted from the original email or for the sake of clarity.

{Beloved},

Sometimes I can go weeks without checking my email so I'm glad I checked it this morning.  I don't understand what God is doing or choosing not to do, but this I know: He loves us and His heart is toward us.  He is good- NO MATTER WHAT.  I shared with {friend} about my struggle with "hope" and the raw pain of genuine hope... she gave me a much better perspective. It's "trust" that I need; more than even hope.  I need to trust Jesus no matter the outcome or circumstances.  Conversely, "hope" can become about a specific result or change.  I can trust Him because I know His incredible character... where sometimes hope (as we often understand it) may lead to despair, without HIM as the focus.

May I lovingly admonish you?  Change your mind...   This battle may not be as much about what is going on in your body so much as what is attacking your mind.  What if rather than seeing all that you need/should do (possible religious spirit), you begin to focus on what you CAN and GET to do!  You CAN love Jesus.  You GET to trust Him. You GET to spend more time with Jesus, growing in Him, being transformed by Him, preparing with greater focus on the things He wants to reveal to you to share with others... While painful, you CAN walk.  You CAN sing.  You CAN get to where you need to go.   Let me re-phrase a scripture in hopes that it is not blasphemous... You CAN'T do anything without the strength of Jesus Christ.  When you have the thoughts of "I can't", I propose, that you would be right.  But the strength and power of CHRIST IS IN you!  And He says you CAN! When you can't, it's probable that you are striving to function within your own strength (I am not exactly sure what this looks like or how it works... right now , I just know it is the truth and Jesus can work out the "how" that gets walked out). 

{Beloved}, I love you. You have been and are a blessing to me... {.................}  I am saying these things because of love. You have been very straight with me {.....}... so I am returning the favor (truly).  I want you WHOLE.  And so does Jesus.  I hurt for you.  Change your mind... change your focus.  Let Him raise you up from the pit... In order for Him to do this you must believe He wants to and will!  You are NOT being punished... Are there consequences for our choices? Without a doubt. BUT God desires and WILL still save, deliver, and free us from ourselves... He does it for me every day, when I LET Him. 

{Beloved}, you know this, but I going to say it anyway THERE IS NO CONDEMNATION IN CHRIST JESUS.  If you are feeling shame, guilt, condemnation- it is NOT Jesus!  Have a JESUS filled day  {which Beloved says often}... then you CAN do ALL things, yes even those things that you have been deceived into believing you could never do for {your lifetime}.  (You do know I am preaching to myself right now right?!)  YOU ARE NOT DEFEATED.  {....God revealed significance in Beloved's given name....}

There is this incredibly wise person of God that has often referred me, and countless others, to a passage in Philippians... chapter 4 verse 8.  You should check it out.  It may just change your life. {This is one of the most quoted scriptures by Beloved!}  It's interesting how the Lord gives us very specific life verses.  My primary life verse has been Proverbs 3:5-6. As one who is pretty "teacher motivated" {spiritual gift}, I have discovered and appreciate the apparent significance that "I" chose  that verse; consequently,  many of my life's lessons have been directed at  learning how to NOT lean on my OWN understanding (or desiring others to “lean” on mine either) but to acknowledge HIM and THEN my path levels out...  Is it possible that one that walks in a gifting of mercy would need the constant reminder about where to focus her thoughts so that her emotions would line up with truth? And let's throw in the tendency of the prophecy to see the "wrongness" of their choices and that wrongness becoming a potential focal point (and WIDE open door for condemnation) instead of the river of grace to which Jesus is calling you.

I usually like to use the NKJV, but for the purpose of this "discussion" (and the satisfaction of my "exhorter" gifting) look at how The Message translates: "Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies." 

What is true?  Really? That in Christ, you can't?  Or that you CAN? What is the BEST? What are things to PRAISE not CURSE?  (Will you praise that you CAN walk, not CURSE the cane...) What is beautiful, not ugly? (That you set an example of pursuing Jesus and ALL of your children and grandchildren do too- do you really want to focus on those things that you think are destroying your quality of life, OR on those things that have been beautifully created through you and your faithfulness to the only One who can change any of it anyway?)

May I now be incredibly bold? (gulp) Stop thinking about yourself... and all that you are and are not.

Please know my heart.  I am NOT trying to trivialize the physical issues... they are real. But you teach the truth and I am now compelled to remind you of it.  What are the verses that precede Phil 4:8? 6 ""Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; 7 and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." 

I know you want to stop hurting... I KNOW how that feels.  But my sense is that you are not walking in a place of peace, especially in your emotions.  He does not tell me to be anxious for nothing and then not tell me how to accomplish that.  He sets me up to succeed!  He gives me the "how".  And when I apply the "how", He gives me a promise: peace.  Not just ANY peace, but a militant (that is the original understanding) guarding of my heart AND mind. I am finding (slow learner here) that He does not allow me to have a problem without the provision of a promise.

While under different circumstances, I think sometimes you and I can "feel" like we are dying...maybe we are. If our focus remains on earthly things: circumstances, pain, limitations, self (sigh), then Truth says we are missing out on life and peace. "For to be carnally minded is death, but to be spiritually minded is life and peace." (Romans 8:6) Let's work together at focusing on being spiritually minded. Let's CHOOSE life and peace.  Let's "set our minds on things above" as Colossians says.

I love you beyond words.... I shudder to think of the chasm that would exist should my life be absent of you.

My heart aches for you... I will be talking with our Father about you often...

I pray that you hear my heart. But above all, that Holy Spirit reveals His heart through any of my meaningless words and that He would do so exponentially and with haste.

xoxoxo,

{Steffanie}