More....

As I said, I grew up in a home that was ruled by alcoholism of the generation past. We were so busy living perfect lives and being perfect examples there was no room for mistakes or weaknesses. The way we dealt with them was to deny their existence. Keeping up appearances was the most important thing in my life. So there was nowhere to turn, no experience to rely on of how to ask for help. We were not long into our marriage when one inescapable fact was glaringly apparent. My husband and I agreed on one thing. We both thought he was the greatest preacher/teacher/man we had ever known. He was truly gifted in ministry. People came to him in great numbers. No matter which community we lived in the church where he preached quickly became a drawing card to the community at large. He did weddings, funerals, graduation speeches….he was truly gifted. But he didn’t’ love me. I became lonelier and lonelier. The verbal putdowns became more and more frequent. The predictable thing happened – I began to believe what I heard which only further exacerbated the problems. I had always wanted a big family – would have been happy to have six kids. Instead I had endometriosis and fertility was a huge issue. By the grace of God I finally got ½ my original 6 but the years of drugs and surgeries and dashed hopes took their toll on my emotional health. I had reached such desperation that I found myself standing at the bathroom sink and staring into my own eyes, willing myself to empty the contents of the medicine cabinet into my mouth. The thought that I had 3 precious babies who needed at least one parent in their home always kept my feet on the planet earth but I was broken as could be. Still, I had a role to play and I played it well. No one knew we weren’t the happiest couple in the neighborhood. No one knew that our marriage was a sham that was ruled by criticism, silence and absence. If the absence wasn’t physical then it was emotional.

Faith story continued.....

My grandfather was an alcoholic. Although he was dry the entire time I knew him, he was very much practicing his addiction when my mom was growing up. Those living with alcoholics learn to keep secrets, to act as though you have no problems and to maintain control at all costs. Even though there was no alcohol ever in our home those coping mechanisms were learned. So you better believe I stayed in the boat. I stayed in the boat with the oars firmly secured in my arms and no other’s. As long as you acted right you could get a "right" result. I carried this understanding into my religious life as well. You went to church every single time the doors were opened and you kept a checklist of the required acts of obedience. Each week you checked them off and then could feel somewhat confident in knowing you were doing right. I didn’t curse, drink, dance or date those who did. The religion worked for me and I thought I was doing exactly what God wanted from me. The boat never even left the dock but I didn’t know it was supposed to. I graduated from high school and began college right in the little town in southeastern Colorado where I had grown up. I was going to marry a local boy, I knew exactly what side of town we would live in, which elementary school our six children would attend and who would give them piano lessons. I met my local boy future husband and he would come to church with me and decided he needed and wanted to be baptized. Then the story went awry. He decided he wanted to become a preacher. Clearly my boat was getting ready to move out into the harbor a ways. I didn’t like it – not one little bit. But I could still see shore – I still had the oars and I adapted. We lived in Denver for a year while he finished school and then we began our lives as “The Preacher and his wife”.

My whole entire faith story

I don't know how God works but I know when He starts nudging me along a certain path there is something up ahead for which He is preparing me. For quite some time I've been thinking about my journey and how I got here. I've shared it recently but I don't think I'm done because there's still not that sense of "AHA! so that's why...." So I am going to be writing about it for the next however many days it takes me to get it all out there...maybe someone will be blessed or encouraged and maybe I'll figure out what I'm supposed to be doing at the moment. And so the story begins....

When you look in your Bible at examples of faith there are many - but the one that I am thinking of right now is Peter, and one particular incident in Peter’s life. That would be when he looked out across a raging storm tossed sea and in spite of everything sane he put his legs over the side of the boat and walked on water. We spend a lot of our lesson times on the fact that he walked on water. That is huge, don’t get me wrong. But for me, the real miracle began earlier. The miracle was he got out of the boat. I mean what is in a person’s head that they would think the thing to do is get out of the boat in the middle of a raging storm? You see, I’ve spent most of my life in the boat. I didn’t know that wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I liked the boat. Reality is, in real life and in spiritual life, I am afraid of the water. I cannot swim. Way back in the days of childhood when summer came my mom enrolled my two sisters and me in swimming lessons. The way it was arranged there were three different groups at the shallow end of the pool. You started at one side and progressed through those three beginner groups until you moved on to deeper water. It took me all summer long to make it to the 3rd beginner group and I am convinced it was a social promotion. I was head & shoulders taller than those kids who were jumping off the high dive but I never got over being afraid of the water. That pretty much symbolizes my spiritual and emotional life as well.
(to be continued)......

Women of Faith

I am SO glad I went to the pre-conference as well as the conference. It was exactly what I needed and my spirit was refreshed. I took away so much that I don't know where to start processing all the things tumbling through my head. I thoroughly enjoyed Dr. Henry Cloud's sessions. I always connect the most with Sheila Walsh. I laughed so hard at Anita Renfroe that I thought I would break a rib. She is without a doubt the funniest lady I have every heard. Nicole Johnson is gifted - I had no idea that I loved Nicole Nordeman but now I do! All in all it was just a blessing and I am so grateful to God for giving me the opportunity.

Dr. Cloud reinforced some things I have been thinking about for quite a while now. I am continually challenged by my desire to be real and my desire to be proper. You generally can't be both I've found and way too often my desire to be accepted is much stronger than my desire to let the real Michelle show through. The Michelle that is wounded, that struggles with doubts, with anger and apathy. I am not sure I can be a vessel that God can really use if I don't become transparent but as much as I love my brothers and sisters, it never really feels safe to be real. Because, all the rest of the church is working hard to be proper too. I think it takes one brave soul to turn the tide and perhaps God continues to call me to be the brave soul. But I am not. Really. But I'm tired of being strong too. I've been reliving "my story" for quite a while now and I am beginning to suspect God is preparing me for something and that is disconserting.

Weekend plans

Two weeks in a row I have taken Friday off! What a joy. Tomorrow two friends and I are going to the Women of Faith pre-conference and I am looking forward to it so much. I know I am going to laugh. I know I am going to cry. I know I am going to be standing on Holy Ground....I just can't wait. We're going to make it a real experience by riding the Dart Rail down too - three old gals on an adventure!! Since they are several years younger than me I'm thinking they won't want to know I included them in the old gal category. We are going to have to leave at dark-thirty tomorrow and Saturday to make it though - so I am crashing early tonight. I know God is going to do something great this weekend -- I just pray I am an alert enough to recognize it when it is happening. God bless ya!

A little piece of heaven..

Last Friday morning DH and I hopped on a Southwest Airlines terror machine plane and went to Amarillo. Then we drove to Spearman. This was DH's birthplace and home for 18+ years, mine for just 7. But it feels like home to both of us. It is also the place I get to see these loved ones. It was a much needed break from the craziness that is city life. While we were there we went out to the old homestead to view the newly installed solar powered water well. Here is the solar part: and here is the well part: and here is the peace part: It restores my soul.
I wanna go back. Soon.

Silver

Where do you hear God most? For me, the kitchen sink. Doesn't quite look like holy ground does it? WE INTERRUPT THIS DISCUSSION TO ISSUE THIS DISCLAIMER. The picture above was taken in the midst of remodeling. No, my backsplash is not lovely sheetrock. Yes, I know the sink is not clean. And now, back to our story. I have had a couple of experiences when I was overwhelmed with God's presence - when I knew He was wanting me to know something about him and me and our relationship. Invariably those times were times I was polishing silver. That's just not an every day occurrence around here. Honesty forces me to admit there is very little in the way of housework that is an every day occurrence. However, I have been forced to polish silver when those pieces were needed for a wedding shower or reception of some kind. Once it was because we "inherited" DH's mother's silver tea set. In his childhood home that silver service was a thing of beauty and it held an honored place in the dining room. After his mom died and his dad remarried that silver tea service was moved to the garage, unloved and unwanted. When it was brought to our home I didn't celebrate it's arrival to be sure. All I saw was a whole bunch of work and an item that didn't fit into our life style. God impressed upon my heart that I was just like that silver. I had been created for beauty and honor and sin had blackened my life. The blood of his Son restores me to the beauty that was intended for me. As I applied the polish I began to see my reflection. That's my desire - that looking at my life you'll see the reflection of the one who polishes me.

Well, I am

completely thoughtless. Not as in, rude, uncaring, arrogant or unlovely. As in WITHOUT. ONE. THOUGHT. WORTH. BLOGGING.ABOUT.

It's a sad testimony to the current state of affairs in my life. Nothing remotely interesting, even to me! The saga of the kitchen remodel is going to go on forever so I don't even want to THINK about that, let alone write about it. (Latest tragedy problem is one of the outlets is dead.) How does one go about fixing that you ask? You rip a big fat hole in the wall - the same wall you spent an entire weekend putting up tile. The thoughts in my head are not pretty at the moment and so you see why I cannot share them.

We are finally having a "normal" summer in the metroplex. This means it is 110 degrees in the shade. It IS mid-August after all, but all that rain and cool weather (trust me, 92 degrees IS cool for summer around here) I have been woefully spoiled. It's too hot to even move outside. Saturday we went out to eat with friends that live at the end of our street. I would not even walk to their house. They came and picked us up in their car. I'd already decided we were driving to their house if they didn't. I do not like to sweat.

Last night (Sunday) darling hubby and I went to the Majestic Theatre in downtown big D and saw "Defending the Caveman". He has an incredible ability to make you laugh uproariously at your own behavior. He nailed the differences between male and female down. Funny, funny stuff. You should definitely check it out. Thomas had gotten these tickets for me for my birthday. He definitely outdid himself - our seats were ON THE FRONT ROW. AND we had valet parking. So Happy Birthday to me all over again!!

There you have it - the comings and goings of the C family. Perhaps my relaying of these events will trigger some writing mania and I'll get beyond the writer's block that is paralyzing me at this time. Until then -- see you!

Step right up and get yours!

She was lifting and pulling at the same time, one foot firmly planted on the floor while the other one was braced against the monstrous device of torture. Just a little more lifting, a little more tugging and the object of her attention would be torn from it's God-intended place of residence.

Yep. It was time for my yearly mammogram. And that was my womanhood she was yanking and lifting and pulling. In all likelihood she was not born in the U.S. Her accent was strong enough that I comprehended very little of what she was saying but I did understand "Now, relax." RELAX??? I was standing in a room wearing nothing from the waist up while a total stranger was holding my breast in her hand. Once she was certain it couldn't be pulled anymore she lowered a large flat plate which commenced to flattening my boob into something resembling a potato pancake. "Hold your breath." This was a totally unnecessary command since all the wind had been knocked out of me shortly after 1500 pounds of pressure had been applied to my chest. I couldn't have moved if I wanted to and besides all that I had blacked out shortly upon seeing that plate lowering toward me.

• In·dig·ni·ty a : an act that offends against a person's dignity or self-respect : INSULT b : humiliating treatment

Of course I am extraordinarily grateful that the technology is there and that I can be reasonably assured all is well each and every year. But hopefully there is a woman somewhere, locked in a laboratory, who is devoting herself day and night to creating something a little less painful.

I'm just saying.