When I was growing up, we lived on a canal that ran into the Great South Bay of Long Island. In the warmer months, I would be able to swim in my backyard without the expense of a pool. Back then, the water was clean and unpolluted, and a very intricate part of my life. Just a few hundred yards from my house was the bay. I would often go to the shore and sit, staring out at the blue water and watching the seagulls.
My father had a twenty-four foot cabin cruiser. I especially loved going to the beach by boat, or going fishing with my dad. He was a good seaman, and I marveled at how he could maneuver that large boat down the narrow canal without disturbing the neighbors' boats that were neatly docked behind each house.
From the canal we would enter the bay. We would either stop to fish or just ride around for a while. I felt very safe in the boat with my father at the wheel, especially in the narrow canal and the bay.
But sometimes he would venture into the Atlantic Ocean. We would pass under a few bridges and then be out on the open sea. This was a little unnerving for me, because I was aware that the ocean could quickly grow rough. When it did, it made our boat feel like a small canoe going down the rapids! But I totally trusted my father's judgement and ability to keep us safe. He knew that if he headed straight into the waves, the boat would "ride" them. And if the sea got dangerously out of control, he always headed back towards the bay, then up the canal, then home.
I was thinking about this part of my childhood this morning, and how it relates to my walk with God. It is very easy for me to trust my Heavenly Father when He asks me to do something simple and "safe". Something within my comfort zone. I can even trust Him when He asks me to go a little farther into the deep. I enjoy His company and the challenge as much as I enjoyed fishing in the bay with my earthly father. But when He leads me into the sea, where I know the waves can be treacherous and my mind can become "seasick," I tend to struggle to trust His leading. It becomes easier to be afraid and to contemplate all the "what ifs " than to face the waves head-on. And the sea can be such a seemingly unending place, so vast. Wouldn't it be easier to stay in the bay where the water is calm, or at most, a little choppy?
But He tenderly beckons me to the sea. He's asking me to trust Him at the helm, to trust that He will not lead me to destruction, that He knows how to "ride the waves" and keep me safe, that He knows the exact time to head back to shore.
Lately, I sense the beckoning call of the sea. I am determined to follow and step into the boat. I am determined to trust my Father at the wheel.
A Support Group for Survivors of Sexual Abuse
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
It IS What it ISN'T
The phrase "It is what it is" has become extremely popular these days, denoting that "this is just the way it is" or "this is the truth." But I dare to challenge that phrase. Just because we feel, see, or experience something a certain way and believe it to be true, does not necessarily mean that it is. Maybe what is, really isn't!
Before you think I am unjustifiably stretching reality into some kind of fantasy, let me explain.
Just this past weekend I wound up in the emergency room with a blood pressure reading that had skyrocketed off the charts. A very scary event for me, because I have past experiences that fuel my mind's anxiety if a BP reading is above normal, so my mind can quickly send it out of control. I have tried so many ways to try to conquer this problem...relaxation methods, prayer, and yes, even meds. After spending hours Friday night into early Saturday morning in the hospital, I was determined that even though the easy solution is to say "it is what it is," I had to try to find a way to help avoid this ever happening again. So I decided to try some serious meditation.
Early Monday morning I shut myself in my bedroom, sat in a typical yoga position, palms up, and put on Pandora radio, set to "peaceful music." As the ocean waves gently washed the shore and dolphins happily communicated with each other, I let my mind take me to that peaceful, sandy beach. I was a little girl again, playing and skipping in the foamy water as it brushed the sandy shoreline. I could see Jesus, sitting on the beach, lovingly watching me. Every once in a while I would run to his arms and he would playfully lift me in the air and smile. It was a very rewarding time of quietness for me, and I believe it brought a new phase of healing to my internal feelings of having been abandonment by Him as an abused child. I thought of the 23rd Psalm and let its comforting words penetrate deep into my mind and soul.
This morning, I decided I'd try this meditation technique again, and the thought of using Psalm 91 popped into my mind. But I quickly dismissed it. Why? Because it has always been a psalm that I have struggled with. When I was in my early teens, my pastor's wife was my Sunday School teacher, and in her class, we learned this psalm by memory. I still can recite it today! My resistance to this particular psalm is not because I didn't like my teacher; on the contrary, I adored her. But her husband, the pastor, and 50 years my senior, was sexually abusing me at the time that I learned this psalm. It was especially hard for me to believe verse 11: "For He shall give His angels charge over you to keep you in all your ways..." So I dismissed it as the psalm I would use, and started my time of meditation by reading Psalm 108 instead. As before, I set Pandora Radio to the station I had created for peaceful music. Instead of instrumentals or nature music, it randomly played some hymns. There was a song about resting our minds in Jesus. It was perfect, and I could feel my body and mind relaxing as time went on. A praise song followed, right in line with Psalm 108. I was losing myself deeper and deeper into the tranquility of the music and words. Then the most beautiful song about God's love played, and at the end of the song, a soothing male voice read Psalm 91. I sat in awe. Tears welled in my eyes. Each verse penetrated my heart as he softly read. I knew God was healing another part of my soul. "It is what it is" concerning this Psalm in my life, gently became something it hadn't been in the past. It became truth for me for the first time, and truth always sets us free. What were the chances of Pandora playing that particular song with Psalm 91 at the end? I knew it was no mistake.
Many times we are content to say, "It is what it is," but we must be aware that even though we perceive things a certain way, our Creator has the ultimate word. I am so grateful that that's the way it is!
Before you think I am unjustifiably stretching reality into some kind of fantasy, let me explain.
Just this past weekend I wound up in the emergency room with a blood pressure reading that had skyrocketed off the charts. A very scary event for me, because I have past experiences that fuel my mind's anxiety if a BP reading is above normal, so my mind can quickly send it out of control. I have tried so many ways to try to conquer this problem...relaxation methods, prayer, and yes, even meds. After spending hours Friday night into early Saturday morning in the hospital, I was determined that even though the easy solution is to say "it is what it is," I had to try to find a way to help avoid this ever happening again. So I decided to try some serious meditation.
Early Monday morning I shut myself in my bedroom, sat in a typical yoga position, palms up, and put on Pandora radio, set to "peaceful music." As the ocean waves gently washed the shore and dolphins happily communicated with each other, I let my mind take me to that peaceful, sandy beach. I was a little girl again, playing and skipping in the foamy water as it brushed the sandy shoreline. I could see Jesus, sitting on the beach, lovingly watching me. Every once in a while I would run to his arms and he would playfully lift me in the air and smile. It was a very rewarding time of quietness for me, and I believe it brought a new phase of healing to my internal feelings of having been abandonment by Him as an abused child. I thought of the 23rd Psalm and let its comforting words penetrate deep into my mind and soul.
This morning, I decided I'd try this meditation technique again, and the thought of using Psalm 91 popped into my mind. But I quickly dismissed it. Why? Because it has always been a psalm that I have struggled with. When I was in my early teens, my pastor's wife was my Sunday School teacher, and in her class, we learned this psalm by memory. I still can recite it today! My resistance to this particular psalm is not because I didn't like my teacher; on the contrary, I adored her. But her husband, the pastor, and 50 years my senior, was sexually abusing me at the time that I learned this psalm. It was especially hard for me to believe verse 11: "For He shall give His angels charge over you to keep you in all your ways..." So I dismissed it as the psalm I would use, and started my time of meditation by reading Psalm 108 instead. As before, I set Pandora Radio to the station I had created for peaceful music. Instead of instrumentals or nature music, it randomly played some hymns. There was a song about resting our minds in Jesus. It was perfect, and I could feel my body and mind relaxing as time went on. A praise song followed, right in line with Psalm 108. I was losing myself deeper and deeper into the tranquility of the music and words. Then the most beautiful song about God's love played, and at the end of the song, a soothing male voice read Psalm 91. I sat in awe. Tears welled in my eyes. Each verse penetrated my heart as he softly read. I knew God was healing another part of my soul. "It is what it is" concerning this Psalm in my life, gently became something it hadn't been in the past. It became truth for me for the first time, and truth always sets us free. What were the chances of Pandora playing that particular song with Psalm 91 at the end? I knew it was no mistake.
Many times we are content to say, "It is what it is," but we must be aware that even though we perceive things a certain way, our Creator has the ultimate word. I am so grateful that that's the way it is!
Thursday, March 22, 2012
When Everything Says "No", Go!
Perseverance. Going on even though you want to stop. When everything inside you says "I've had enough," perseverance keeps you marching forward, keeps instilling the slightest hope that you are on the right path, and that on the other side of the arid, steep mountain, there awaits a luscious, green valley.
Perseverance is believing in God when He seems silent, continuing on a journey towards emotional wholeness when one feels fearful and anxious, and sometimes conjuring up the strength to just get through the day. It truly can be so difficult to move forward at times. But we must. We must keep marching.
It was nearly four years ago that I began a journey of healing from childhood sexual abuse. In the midst of the healing process, a well of new creativity began to spring forth, and I started designing and making purses. It has been, overall, an awesome journey so far. I have met new people, shared my story, and started a business in the worst of times and seen it stay debt free.
One of my weekly activities is going on Saturdays to a local farmer's market where artisans sell their creations. I always enjoy these times, and it has been beneficial financially to be there. But last Saturday, I just wanted to give up. No one was buying my purses, or stopping by my table to have any meaningful conversation. I was doubting that I should continue this venture, and frankly, was feeling rejected. Other vendors were selling. Maybe no one liked my creations. Giving up certainly felt like a good direction. Just do something else with my time.
The day was almost over when an elderly lady came to my table and started chatting. One thing led to another, and I was able to share some of my childhood story. She looked at me, obviously also an abuse survivor, and said, "I have chills, you have made my day!"
I answered, "You have no idea how close I came to making this my last day here." She said she'd return again so we could talk more. And I knew I had to keep marching.
This week, a wonderful new venue opened up for my business. It could take me in a whole different, exciting direction. What would have happened if I had not decided to persevere in spite of utter exhaustion and discouragement?
Granted, there may be times we need to change the direction of our lives. But most of the time, if we persevere in our faith, march on towards healing, and when everything cries "stop!"' keep going forward towards our dreams, then we will find ourselves on the right path, in the right direction. And when we get to the peak and can see down into the valley, we notice that it is full of fragrant flowers!
Perseverance is believing in God when He seems silent, continuing on a journey towards emotional wholeness when one feels fearful and anxious, and sometimes conjuring up the strength to just get through the day. It truly can be so difficult to move forward at times. But we must. We must keep marching.
It was nearly four years ago that I began a journey of healing from childhood sexual abuse. In the midst of the healing process, a well of new creativity began to spring forth, and I started designing and making purses. It has been, overall, an awesome journey so far. I have met new people, shared my story, and started a business in the worst of times and seen it stay debt free.
One of my weekly activities is going on Saturdays to a local farmer's market where artisans sell their creations. I always enjoy these times, and it has been beneficial financially to be there. But last Saturday, I just wanted to give up. No one was buying my purses, or stopping by my table to have any meaningful conversation. I was doubting that I should continue this venture, and frankly, was feeling rejected. Other vendors were selling. Maybe no one liked my creations. Giving up certainly felt like a good direction. Just do something else with my time.
The day was almost over when an elderly lady came to my table and started chatting. One thing led to another, and I was able to share some of my childhood story. She looked at me, obviously also an abuse survivor, and said, "I have chills, you have made my day!"
I answered, "You have no idea how close I came to making this my last day here." She said she'd return again so we could talk more. And I knew I had to keep marching.
This week, a wonderful new venue opened up for my business. It could take me in a whole different, exciting direction. What would have happened if I had not decided to persevere in spite of utter exhaustion and discouragement?
Granted, there may be times we need to change the direction of our lives. But most of the time, if we persevere in our faith, march on towards healing, and when everything cries "stop!"' keep going forward towards our dreams, then we will find ourselves on the right path, in the right direction. And when we get to the peak and can see down into the valley, we notice that it is full of fragrant flowers!
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Coming Down From The Tree
When I was a little girl, I loved to climb trees, especially the apple tree in my grandmother's back yard. It was so much fun to see my surroundings from that perspective, perched out on a limb. And the apples seemed to taste so much better when I grabbed them from the high branches! And maybe I liked sitting in the midst of apples and leaves because it felt like a safe place. Whatever it was that attracted me, I was always disappointed when my grandmother would call me and I'd have to climb down.
This morning I was reading the familiar story of Zacchaeus. If you grew up at all in any type of Sunday School, you will remember the song and all the little motions that went with it. He was a "wee, little man" who climbed a tree so he could see Jesus, because the crowds were so huge. And when Jesus saw him, he told him to come down, that he wanted to go to his house and spend some time with him. I can imagine Zacchaeus' excitement that this "teacher" would notice him, an abusive tax collector, and even want to fellowship together! Unlike my lingering in the apple tree, I'm sure Zacchaeus immediately responded when Jesus called.
I know in my own life, I often need to "climb a tree to see Jesus." The crowded activities and worries of everyday life push and pull me, and even though I want to see Him, my view is blocked. So I try hard to "climb the tree" by setting aside time to read, pray, and just be still... to see things from a higher perspective, and focus my thoughts. I "wait for Jesus to pass by so I can catch a glimpse of the Master." If I climb high enough, quiet my anxious thoughts enough, I not only see Him, but hear Him. He's calling me by my name. He's telling me He wants to come to "my house" where he can truly fellowship with me. If I climb down and allow Him to come home with me, it means letting Him into the deepest secrets of my life. It means letting Him see how I truly live. It means coming down from the safety of the tree. That can be difficult, especially, if like Zacchaeus, there is shame hovering over me. But climbing down and truly allowing Jesus to fellowship with the most hidden and profound parts of my being always results in new- found freedom and salvation from the remaining "dark" areas of my life. For Zacchaeus, it meant "righting the wrongs" concerning the people he had cheated, and giving to the poor. For me, among many other things, it has meant facing the fact of sexual abuse and forgiving, even confronting, one of my abusers.
I think I will always love to "climb the tree and eat the fruit." Yet when I'm willing to come down when Jesus calls my name and accept His invitation to come to my house and fellowship, that's when I truly experience His marvelous salvation!
This morning I was reading the familiar story of Zacchaeus. If you grew up at all in any type of Sunday School, you will remember the song and all the little motions that went with it. He was a "wee, little man" who climbed a tree so he could see Jesus, because the crowds were so huge. And when Jesus saw him, he told him to come down, that he wanted to go to his house and spend some time with him. I can imagine Zacchaeus' excitement that this "teacher" would notice him, an abusive tax collector, and even want to fellowship together! Unlike my lingering in the apple tree, I'm sure Zacchaeus immediately responded when Jesus called.
I know in my own life, I often need to "climb a tree to see Jesus." The crowded activities and worries of everyday life push and pull me, and even though I want to see Him, my view is blocked. So I try hard to "climb the tree" by setting aside time to read, pray, and just be still... to see things from a higher perspective, and focus my thoughts. I "wait for Jesus to pass by so I can catch a glimpse of the Master." If I climb high enough, quiet my anxious thoughts enough, I not only see Him, but hear Him. He's calling me by my name. He's telling me He wants to come to "my house" where he can truly fellowship with me. If I climb down and allow Him to come home with me, it means letting Him into the deepest secrets of my life. It means letting Him see how I truly live. It means coming down from the safety of the tree. That can be difficult, especially, if like Zacchaeus, there is shame hovering over me. But climbing down and truly allowing Jesus to fellowship with the most hidden and profound parts of my being always results in new- found freedom and salvation from the remaining "dark" areas of my life. For Zacchaeus, it meant "righting the wrongs" concerning the people he had cheated, and giving to the poor. For me, among many other things, it has meant facing the fact of sexual abuse and forgiving, even confronting, one of my abusers.
I think I will always love to "climb the tree and eat the fruit." Yet when I'm willing to come down when Jesus calls my name and accept His invitation to come to my house and fellowship, that's when I truly experience His marvelous salvation!
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Centurion
I haven't written in a while, but not because life has been dull. It's been anything but that! But I apologize for not sharing recently. I have been getting up very early in the morning, (not as easy as I would like it to be), to spend some time reading, praying, and just being still. It has been a healthy discipline for me, though, both spiritually, emotionally and physically.
Yesterday I was reading in Luke about the centurion whose servant was very sick, and I can't stop thinking about this story. He loved this servant, and had heard about Jesus' ability to heal. What struck me was the fact that as important a person as the centurion was in that society, he felt unworthy to go to Jesus or to have Jesus come to him. In modern terms, he felt unworthy to go to God or to have God come to him: simply unworthy to be in God's presence at all. Yet he needed God's help in a situation he could not control.
I know I have also been there many times, feeling unworthy of God's love, attention or time, yet needing help because life is out of "my" control. In those circumstances, I tend to pray less, withdraw, and fill my days with busyness. Yet the centurion understood something about Jesus that I many times forget: that He has authority just by His word. Even if I don't feel worthy to enter His presence, (for whatever reason), I can be assured that His word is powerful and true. It can heal. His authority to meet my needs does not depend on my feelings, especially on how worthy I think I am, but solely on who He is...."Emanuel"..."God with us."
That Jesus was physically present did not matter to the centurion. He understood the power and authority given to Jesus (and today to His church). And Jesus said, "I have not found such great faith, even in Israel!" (Luke 7:9)
We can't "see" Jesus as in ancient times when He was physically on the earth. Yet we can imitate the centurion. When we feel unworthy of God's love or presence, we need to remember that His word is what matters, and He says He loves us and we are His sons and daughters. It's amazing how healing happens that seems impossible when we grasp this truth! Even healing of the deepest wounds!
Yesterday I was reading in Luke about the centurion whose servant was very sick, and I can't stop thinking about this story. He loved this servant, and had heard about Jesus' ability to heal. What struck me was the fact that as important a person as the centurion was in that society, he felt unworthy to go to Jesus or to have Jesus come to him. In modern terms, he felt unworthy to go to God or to have God come to him: simply unworthy to be in God's presence at all. Yet he needed God's help in a situation he could not control.
I know I have also been there many times, feeling unworthy of God's love, attention or time, yet needing help because life is out of "my" control. In those circumstances, I tend to pray less, withdraw, and fill my days with busyness. Yet the centurion understood something about Jesus that I many times forget: that He has authority just by His word. Even if I don't feel worthy to enter His presence, (for whatever reason), I can be assured that His word is powerful and true. It can heal. His authority to meet my needs does not depend on my feelings, especially on how worthy I think I am, but solely on who He is...."Emanuel"..."God with us."
That Jesus was physically present did not matter to the centurion. He understood the power and authority given to Jesus (and today to His church). And Jesus said, "I have not found such great faith, even in Israel!" (Luke 7:9)
We can't "see" Jesus as in ancient times when He was physically on the earth. Yet we can imitate the centurion. When we feel unworthy of God's love or presence, we need to remember that His word is what matters, and He says He loves us and we are His sons and daughters. It's amazing how healing happens that seems impossible when we grasp this truth! Even healing of the deepest wounds!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
A Talking Horse?
I was standing Friday evening inside my barn watching my mare. I had the door slightly open and I was leaning against the stall wall, talking softly to her. But her attitude was anything but friendly. Her ears were flat back against her head, and she had turned her backside toward me. I didn't move, just quietly stood there talking to her and wondering if she would ever trust me again.
This past Monday I had asked my farrier ( the man who shoes horses, in case you don't know equestrian vocabulary) to give my two horses their yearly shots. My husband usually did it, but he was practically immobile with back pain. The problem occurred when the shot was given too high in the muscle, which caused the mare pain and swelling. She was definitely angry with me, baring her teeth and threatening to kick. I had worked so hard in the past trying to earn her trust. She had been born on our farm, and now was in her early twenties. Ever since she was young and we had sent her off for training, she had a very distrusting mentality towards humans. We always knew she must have been mistreated and abused during those early years of her life to have developed such a fear and inability to trust the very people who truly loved and cared for her.
So I stood talking in a soothing voice, watching and wondering if the situation would ever be redeemable, if she would ever really trust me even in the slightest.
As I gave a deep sigh, thinking of the alternatives if she did not respond positively, it was as if I heard a still quiet voice call my name. "Sally, your mare is just like you. Can't you see? When she was young, she innocently trusted humans. But the first time they caused her pain, she developed a seed of mistrust. Each time something happened that caused her more pain at the hand of a human, that seed grew. This new pain is making it very hard for her to trust you, even though you love her."
Wow, the picture of my life! So suddenly crystal clear. The people I innocently trusted as a child repeatedly hurt me. It definitely has had it's impact on my ability to trust, even the people who truly love me. Not to mention my ability to trust a God who I cannot see.
But the good news for me is that God kept quietly waiting at my heart's door, as I was standing now at my horses's stall door. He kept speaking softly to me, understanding my fears and mistrust. And one day I finally turned around and welcomed Him into the deepest places of my fears. I am still learning day by day to trust Him more and realizing how very much He loves me.
My mare still cautiously watches me, not daring to show any sign of welcoming my presence. Yet God's gentle voice spoke through her straight to my heart, revealing more of my own self, bringing more healing to my life. He used a donkey to talk to a man once. Friday night, he used a horse.
This past Monday I had asked my farrier ( the man who shoes horses, in case you don't know equestrian vocabulary) to give my two horses their yearly shots. My husband usually did it, but he was practically immobile with back pain. The problem occurred when the shot was given too high in the muscle, which caused the mare pain and swelling. She was definitely angry with me, baring her teeth and threatening to kick. I had worked so hard in the past trying to earn her trust. She had been born on our farm, and now was in her early twenties. Ever since she was young and we had sent her off for training, she had a very distrusting mentality towards humans. We always knew she must have been mistreated and abused during those early years of her life to have developed such a fear and inability to trust the very people who truly loved and cared for her.
So I stood talking in a soothing voice, watching and wondering if the situation would ever be redeemable, if she would ever really trust me even in the slightest.
As I gave a deep sigh, thinking of the alternatives if she did not respond positively, it was as if I heard a still quiet voice call my name. "Sally, your mare is just like you. Can't you see? When she was young, she innocently trusted humans. But the first time they caused her pain, she developed a seed of mistrust. Each time something happened that caused her more pain at the hand of a human, that seed grew. This new pain is making it very hard for her to trust you, even though you love her."
Wow, the picture of my life! So suddenly crystal clear. The people I innocently trusted as a child repeatedly hurt me. It definitely has had it's impact on my ability to trust, even the people who truly love me. Not to mention my ability to trust a God who I cannot see.
But the good news for me is that God kept quietly waiting at my heart's door, as I was standing now at my horses's stall door. He kept speaking softly to me, understanding my fears and mistrust. And one day I finally turned around and welcomed Him into the deepest places of my fears. I am still learning day by day to trust Him more and realizing how very much He loves me.
My mare still cautiously watches me, not daring to show any sign of welcoming my presence. Yet God's gentle voice spoke through her straight to my heart, revealing more of my own self, bringing more healing to my life. He used a donkey to talk to a man once. Friday night, he used a horse.
Monday, October 10, 2011
The Caregiver
I woke up this morning with the 23rd Psalm on my mind. Only it was a very personal version, an answer to some inward struggles that I have been dealing with... fears that still grip me at times, that have roots from my childhood. But they are things I am willing to face, because I know the truth will set me free and will take me one step further on the road to wholeness.
I decided to share this morning's early inspiration, in hopes that it will speak to you as deeply as it did me.
Psalm 23
I decided to share this morning's early inspiration, in hopes that it will speak to you as deeply as it did me.
Psalm 23
The Lord is my caregiver, so everything I need is supplied.
He makes me rest and be quiet so that my soul can be replenished.
He leads me in a good direction so my life brings Him glory.
Even when times are hard and I can’t see through the darkness, I don’t have to be afraid, because He is there to comfort me. He pours his love and grace on me when I am struggling or misunderstood, and it fills me to overflowing.
His goodness and mercy will be the shadow that follows me wherever I go, and I will always live in His presence.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)