I live in the south. No, wayyyy down south. Where the real, real southerners live. We’re the last city you see before you hit the warm gulf waters. Mobile is a beautiful city filled with true southern hospitality and charm. We boast yummy foods that most northerners do not understand. We love tradition. We love the coastal life and we love each other. However, we do not completely understand a life filled with distinct seasonal changes. Our landscape doesn’t change that much from one season to another, with the exception of spring when our cozy little spot at the most southern part of Alabama explodes with color….and allergies! As we stroll through our spring enjoying azaleas of every color, every imaginable shade of green in our foliage and relishing in the salt air floating in from the gulf, we find ourselves loving the world. It’s hypnotizing! A few days later, summer stomps in announcing a season of sunbathing, island living, hammock swinging, barbecue loving, horseshoe playing, baseball throwing, outdoor concert dancing, boat riding and every other warm weather, summer loving, activity you can think of. Did I mention we have very long summers? We are located on a bay, connected to an island by a small bridge, an hour drive to a sandy white beach and a quick thirty minutes to a small artsy town. Again, our summers are long. So long we find ourselves every year saying “Summer was never this hot and long when I was growing up!” Every year. We long for fall weather, pumpkins, sweaters and spiced lattes and yet, they are very slow in coming. We do our best to bring on cooler weather with our fancy fall door hangers and decorations. We sit in our air conditioned cars, warm lattes in hand, wishing for that pre-thanksgiving crisp air. We fear we will jump from summer straight into winter, completely skipping the cozy fall weather. We’ve even been known to have a late season hurricane, as if nature is making a last ditch effort to show us her skills. Thanksgiving is a toss up as to whether it will be cool or warm, we never know. We just hope. Today it is cold outside and rainy. Our hopes rise. Sweaters are jerked out of the bottom drawers and the lines at Starbucks are long. It’s fall y’all….at least for a few days! Winter will be upon us before we know it…..at least for 15 minutes! Then we will head back into spring and then summer. It’s been said about Mobile that if you don’t like the weather, hang around for about fifteen minutes and it will change. It is so true. I believe this has produced a culture that adapts quickly to any weather change. Well, except for that occasionally snow flurry that happens about every five to ten years and causes school and work shut downs because we have no clue how to drive on ice and snow. No worries, though, it will be gone tomorrow!!! But today it is fall. Like legit fall. Like in the mountains of Tennessee fall, except we still have green leaves on the trees. Enjoy it while you can, because we Mobilians know Thanksgiving is coming and we’ll probably be wearing t-shirts, shorts and flip-flops while eating smoked turkey, dressing, green bean casserole, sweet potato soufflé, dumplins, carrot cake, pecan pie and sweet tea! Happy Fall Y’all!
A Year and a Half Ago
I woke up this morning still tired after a night of sleeping and waking and thinking. My life has changed so much in the last year and a half, and continues to change and move into a new season. A year and a half ago I lost my job. But it didn’t seem to matter so much because we were in the trenches of cancer and I was thankful to walk every step with my big guy, holding his hand, praying, listening, hoping. After the “all clear” words came from the doctor, we went home and just sat in our living room quietly. The words we had hoped for and prayed for had come. Now for finding normal. That was in May and life has continued to move forward as if the year of cancer never happened. A year and a half ago we were welcoming a new grandson into our lives. A year and a half ago we were in the midst of planning baby girl number two’s wedding. A year and a half ago we lost my sweet Daddy.
I began keeping our new grandson when my daughter returned to teaching during this past year. It has been a joy watching him grow and getting to love on him on a daily basis. But this past August, when school began again, my daughter decided to put her boy in daycare in preparation for a second baby on the way. I am told finding and getting into a good, reliable, and desirable daycare is both competitive and difficult. I had no idea. So he went to daycare after a year of staying with Lolly. He loves it and has adapted quite easily. My man cub is growing up too fast!
So, now, for the last two months I have been trying to figure out what next. Yes, there are wedding plans still going on for baby girl number three, but that will be over in another thirty-nine days. But then what? I guess last night it was on my mind and I would go to sleep, dream, wake up, think about it for awhile, then start over again by filing asleep. I’ve talked about getting a job, but I’m not sure if I’m even supposed to get a job right now. I’ve prayed about it, and I get the sense from the Lord that I am exactly where he wants me to be for now. I’m just having trouble adjusting, even after a year and a half. I’m trying to find some routine. I’m trying to write a little each day, even if it is just to blog a short piece. I’m trying to figure out what the next step the Lord has for me. I’m trying to establish a regular morning time with Him. I even got out my daughter’s Kurig and am trying to drink coffee like a real grown up….decaf, of course! The crazy thing is I can’t remember the last time I had quiet time like this in the mornings. I’ve been raising baby girls for the last twenty-eight years. I remember dreaming of slower mornings, peace and quiet, a clean house, time to write and here I am.
For now I will enjoy the peaceful and quiet mornings. I will enjoy having time to spend with the Lord. I will enjoy the slower pace. Maybe I will eventually be able to write about my big guy and I going on adventures. But today I’ll sip some decaf coffee and enjoy this rainy morning…..and maybe check my to do lists for the wedding, prepare my devotional to deliver to the students on Sunday afternoon, do some laundry, clean the kitchen, make the bed……
For anyone reading this blog, don’t stress over the season you are in at this moment. If you have a personal relationship with our Heavenly Father, you are not alone. He is with you. He will walk with you and guide you. He will listen to you as you tell Him about your concerns, your dreams, your life. He truly cares. Only He can wrap you in a peace that passes all understanding.
2:48 AM. The last time I looked at the clock this morning. Here I sit. Awake. Miserable. All because of a large unsweet tea from Foosacklys. That’s right. I’ve been robbed of blissful slumber because I can’t handle my caffeine. I admit it. What was I thinking? That’s the problem, I wasn’t. I just rode through that drive-thru with my daughter, chatting away, ordering dinner, and as bold as a twenty-something, I ordered a LARGE unsweet tea with my meal. I’m 58 years old and I know that I cannot consume anything caffeinated after 5:00pm! I admire those people that can guzzle coffee or tea, or even devour chocolate at any given time of the day and not suffer from sleep deprivation! The sad part of this saga, is I have lay in my bed for the last 4 hours straining to go to sleep, my eyes feeling like sandpaper, but my mind running in five different directions all at once! I have redecorated soon to be vacated bedrooms, organized things to do for a ministry kick-off, planned rehearsals and costumes for student choir, sent out texts to people (and that should be interesting when they get up and read the time I sent them), reviewed details for a meeting I need to have on Thursday, planned out how to help two of my daughters get settled in their new houses over the next two weeks, hold on, I’m not done yet, made notes of editing I need to do on my childrens book, chided myself for not being more disciplined about dieting, planned Christmas gifts for family members, planned dinner for tomorrow, I mean today, made a list on my phone of anything and everything I need to do in the coming days with neat little check off circles so I can feel good about myself when I check them off, and considered what kind of things we want to do on the Alaskan cruise we’re planning for next year. I’m just going stop right here. There are probably twenty more items I could add to that list. Now you see why I just surrendered and got up, I mean I had already started writing this blog entry in my head, so why not just get up and go ahead and put it in black and white! Why not, I’m awake, right? Did I mention in that crazy, chaotic thinking, I was counting forward twenty years to 78 and wondering if I’d be still kicking! I mean, who knew I’d get to 58 so fast, and still feel 38 in my head? The last 20 years have flown by so fast, I’m sure I’ll wake up tomorrow, if I ever go to sleep, and be 78! I won’t be drinking any tea after 5:00pm, you can bet on that!
So, as I get ready to post this and try to leave you with something spiritual to chew on, check out this verse I found during my sleeplessness:
“In peace I will both lie down and sleep, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.”
I think that’s a sweet promise. A promise that if we will quit trying to plan, make lists, re-think our lives or even plan out the next twenty years, we can know a peace that passes all understanding, we CAN lie down and sleep, for in His arms we are safe, knowing He is our Lord, our Father, our Savior, our Provider, our Redeemer, our Healer, our Everything! I think I’ll sign off now, and go lie down and sleep. He is such a sweet and loving Father to give me this verse in my delirious, caffeine induced insomnia. He is bigger than my sleeplessness!!! Goodnight!
It Matters. (Found this in some old files of things I had written a few years ago)
I stayed home from work today. I felt somewhat achy, was it headache? Was it a tummy ache? I wasn’t quite sure, but I stayed home. The thought of sitting at my desk pushing papers to and fro, and answering the endless phone calls was all too much to face. I gave into the aches and pains that usually disappear within moments of my fifty-three year old feet hitting the floor.
After the hustle and bustle of one daughter off to college and work for the day, another daughter starting her second week of her sophomore year and my sweet hubby heading off to work, the house was at last quiet. I sat on the couch still in my nightgown and looked around my “lived in” house. “Lived in” is my daughters favorite line to use when I am on a rampage about the house being messy. “Mom, it doesn’t matter, it just looks lived in?”, they will say. They don’t understand the inner pressure I struggle with to make my home look like a Better Homes & Garden magazine, or worse, Pinterest! “It matters to me” I will tell them and then I set off on a mission to clean every nook and cranny.
I sat there on that couch for an hour, in the quiet, just thinking. I thought about my life and the road I have been travelling for the last fifty-three years. It isn’t playing out exactly as I had planned. That sounds like I am unhappy, but I am not, though I am finding myself at a crossroads. Many parts of my perfect plan have come to fruition. I am happily married to a wonderful man who loves me more than I ever imagined being loved. He makes me laugh, he understands me to the best of his ability as a man to understand a woman, and he supports me. I have three amazing daughters. The oldest is newly married, the middle daughter is in college and the youngest is in high school. They are strong in their faith and they are living it out. Nothing could make me more proud. I attend a wonderful church with many longtime friends. I have been on mission trips and I have taught Sunday School for high school girls long enough that I am now teaching the teenagers of the students I taught years ago. Frightening!
We have experienced hardships just like everyone else. God has blessed us time and time again. He has met our needs even when we probably didn’t deserve to have those needs met. We have learned so much as a married couple and as a family about God’s grace and mercy. All this matters.
Five years ago I went to work full time after working five years part time. Our daughters were getting older and more expensive. My husband had experienced a lay-off from a job he had been at for nearly ten years and had started over at a new company. Financially it seemed the right thing to do. Up to that point I had only worked twenty hours a week to help out our finances. The full time employment came at a time we were really struggling. Now five years later I am still working full time, mostly because we have become accustomed to the extra money.
This full time employment had never been part of the plan. I was supposed to have finished my first book, become published and obtained a lucrative book deal for additional sequels. The plan also consisted of me becoming a women’s speaker and ministering to women through conferences and retreats. This kind of work mattered.
I got up from my place of contemplation on the couch and decided to do something that matters. I got to work cleaning up the house. I made beds, I washed some clothes, I organized a cabinet and I even straightened up the girl’s bathroom. I had forgotten what it was like to be home in the middle of the day. The house was peaceful and I was getting so much done. The last time I had been home during the day on a regular basis was when my youngest was four years old.
At 3:00pm my fifteen year old came in from school. We sat and talked for an hour about school, friends, homework and anything else that came to her mind. Things got quiet for a moment and she suddenly said, “I like you being home when I get home from school.” Then she was off to her room to take a short nap.
I sat there a while longer thinking about that moment. It won’t be long till she is graduating and then off to college. This is what matters. It matters that I am there for her when she comes home. It doesn’t matter if we have lots of extra money to spend. Being there for her is what matters. Preparing my home is what matters. Serving others is what matters. Seeking God above all else is what matters. This is not what the world preaches through every social and public media. It is subtle. It is constant. But it ways in heavy on what really matters. We become confused about what is important. We strive to have it all and do it all. We push our children to be involved in everything and to maintain great grades while forgetting that they sometimes just need to be kids. We feel like failures when we haven’t achieved some kind of recognized symbol of an extraordinary woman who is perfect at parenting, leading and achieving, all while providing healthy meals, a spotless, well designed home and meaningful moments all chronicled on social media for all to admire.
I cannot compete with the ideal that floats around in my head of how I should be doing everything. It’s too exhausting. I will never live up to my expectations. The realty of life is that my house is not always clean, I do not have a particular set of skills that allows me to have every room decorated and looking magazine worthy. I am not a great cook! There I said it. I have go to meals that are no longer considered healthy or “Keto friendly” or any other kind of healthy friendly. I don’t have a deep desire to be a chef. I probably won’t be the granny cooking up amazing treats and creating lasting memories. I will probably never be a published writer. As of this writing, I have yet to have the children’s book I wrote achieve even one request for further chapters.
Loving, talking, laughing, hugging are things that matter. Nurturing is what matters. Encouraging faith in a God who loves unconditionally and who sacrificed His Son just so we could spend eternity with Him matters. Cheering each other on matters. Calling a friend matters. Writing a note matters. Listening matters. Spending time with our sweet Savior matters. Not measuring ourselves against the world’s standards matters.
Our family is FAR from perfect. We are loud. We laugh inappropriately sometimes. We may be a little judgmental at times. No one is brilliant. No one is incredibly talented. Not one of us will be famous. We are not rich. But what matters is we love each other. We talk about everything. Our girl’s poor fellas probably find the constant conversation overwhelming sometimes, but we all know what everyone else thinks about everything! We share meals, we share vacations, we share last minute road trips. We support their activities, we beam with pride at their accolades. We go to church together. I love how my youngest daughter once told us, “Not all families are like ours! We are freakishly close.” If freaky means we love each other and we are in constant communication with each other, that we talk a lot, we laugh, we cry, we fight. We hug and make-up. Then yes we are freakishly close.
There is one thing that matters. Love.
Rock and Roll, Baby!
Last night something was confirmed about me that may surprise many of you. I am not a rocker. I know you are shocked and surprised. I’m not even a poser. (I had to look that term up, fyi) It was evident by my lack of knowledge about the music or words to the signature songs of the band. I spent more time entertained by the people in attendance than the actual concert. My husband and I were given tickets by sweet friends to a concert by The Black Jacket Symphony: A Night at the Opera and The Best of Queen. My big guy was very excited about hearing favorite songs of his younger years. I confess that I wondered what kind of opera the symphony would play. I honestly expected an orchestra. I was wrong! I am not completely in the dark, I do know who Queen is, but I didn’t realize it would be a real deal rock and roll night! You may not believe this, but I’ve never been to a rock concert. It’s true! I know I’ve surprised you again.
Parking was the first step to getting to our night of rocking and rolling….obviously not an easy task in downtown Mobile when a rock concert is about to happen! We finally parked in a church parking lot with a sign that said “Private Parking for…(and I’ll leave the church name out here just in case someone wants to report two rebellious fifty somethings!): Violators will be ticketed or towed at owners expense. I was a little anxious as we got out of the car and proudly walked toward the theatre, impressed by our night of living on the wild side. I secretly asked God to forgive us and please allow the car to still be there when the night was over!
As we entered the door of the Saenger I was asked to open my purse for security. I looked at my big guy and asked, “Are these people famous?” The security guy asked him if he had any weapons. He confessed to a pocket knife and suddenly the guys hands went up and said “You can’t enter with a weapon, sir.” I looked around at the other security people standing ready to pounce, beginning to wonder if the real Queen was in the house. My sweet husband informed me later that the lead singer died in 1985. He handed over his knife, it was obvious to me that it was worth the sacrifice to hear the band! We then walked to another security checkpoint and were scanned with a wand for any other concealed weapons. This didn’t make me feel comfortable about the obvious possibilities of events that could happen if there was this much concern for what people would carry into the concert hall! We finally got to our seats and waited. We were in the balcony, third row, dead center. Perfect view of the stage. I noted the massive speakers hanging from the ceiling, both sides angled right at us. This wasn’t going to be good. There was an atmosphere of excitement all around me. As I watched people, which I love to do, I realized the average age in the room was somewhere in the mid fifties. But the energy was more like a crowd of twenty somethings! I noted the lights, the instruments and party like atmosphere. Suddenly the lights went down and the band ran out. The crowd went crazy. The lead singer belted out lyrics and people were screaming. I looked hard at the singer trying to recognize him. I did not. But then a familiar tune came, Bohemian Rhapsody. I looked at my big guy and said “I know this!”, but my words were lost somewhere in the midst of the screaming crowd and the blasting music. He leaned down and I got as close to his ear as possible and I repeated my words. He smiled and nodded. I still don’t think heard me….but I saw the smile on his face as he took in the loud music and I knew he was having a good time. I found myself watching people more than the concert as they got lost in the music, reliving the moments of the 70’s and 80’s when they first heard the songs. People were standing and dancing, hands in the air and singing at the top of their lungs. These people knew every word. Then I heard a familiar beat….the crowd began to stomp, stomp, clap, stomp, stomp, clap. I looked at my man with shock, it was my high school senior class song! I found myself following along and singing “We will, we will, rock you”. I was no longer a fish out of water. A square peg in a round hole. I was a rocker! They sang Crazy Little Thing Called Love and Another One Bites the Dust. I suddenly felt cool because I knew these songs. I didn’t know all the words, but I knew the songs. At the end of the night, my ears were numb and I honestly was glad to be headed home. I observed something as I left. It was 10:15pm and the crowd that had just been jamming out for two hours were leaving in an orderly manner, laughing and chatting as we exited the nearly 100 year old Saenger Theatre. Forty years ago, these same people would have been jumping up and down demanding an encore still full of youthful energy, demanding to be blown away by the rock band, Queen. We made it back to the church parking lot (along with many other concert attendees) and our car was still there and no ticket on the windshield. Prayer works! We drove home and I listened to my sweet man talk about the band and how good they were and how fun it was to hear some of his favorite songs. I listened and thought how thankful I was for the gift of tickets for us to enjoy a non -typical night out for this “square” chick, and to sit next to my man who has had such a difficult year. All I can say is…..rock on!
Tomorrow I wake up to the 30th Valentine’s Day with the man God gave me. But this year it is different. This year I will be mushy. I will kiss him every chance I get. I will tell him I love him every hour of the day. I will give him his favorite peanut M & M’s and maybe go have a spur of the moment lunch somewhere. Things could be so different. This past year made the fragility of life so real to me. It gave me a reality check that we are getting older and we need to cherish every day, even the ones when he is driving me crazy and pushing my buttons. Because the truth is I love this man. I know the lengths God went to to orchestrate the events and people to have our paths cross. Even the back story to us meeting is an amazing logistical undertaking. His plan for us to meet was two years in the making! We knew from the beginning that what we had was special and we wasted no time in starting our life together. I love this man because he sees me. Not the fat girl I see in the mirror every morning. Not the failure I think I am. He thinks I am beautiful and smart, and he tells me often. He values my opinion on everything. He calls me friend. He is not perfect, but neither am I. He has held my hand through giving birth and through miscarriages. He has put up with my strong opinions. He has encouraged me in my writing. He has held me close and let me cry when my Mom died. He has told me many times that everything would be okay, when I was shaken over circumstances. He has worked hard to take care of me and his baby girls. He has taken care of me when I have been sick and when I have had surgery, and been so sweet when pain meds made me whiny and weepy. He has made me laugh so many times when I wanted to be mad at him. He has held me close when I needed the security of his arms around me. He held me up and gave me strength to walk through difficult family situations and then the death of my Daddy. This man loves God and has learned to trust His hand this past year. He is the spiritual leader of our family. I love him and I am so proud of the man he has become in the last thirty years. I could not have survived without him walking by my side. My daughters are so blessed to have grown up with a Daddy who was at every event, said yes a thousand times, helped pick out prom dresses and even knows what pantaloons are and all the other parts of a Trail dress. He can brush hair into a ponytail and can cook up some amazing potato gravy and biscuits when his baby girls come asking. He has taken them on motorcycle rides and played with them in the surf at the beach. He has laughed as hard as they have on every ride at Disney. He has given them an amazing example of what a father is supposed to be like. They are strong, opinionated young women who can hold their own with any boy because of him. I love this man and tomorrow I will kiss him and tell him that I am blessed because God gave him to me.
Today. Today was the last day of the last treatment for my big guy. Woohoo! He’s been a trooper through it all. He has endured eight weeks of five day stays in Springhill. He has had 114 bags of chemo pumped into his body. He has had optimistic days and grumpy days. I would probably have had a lot more grumpy days. We can honestly and wholeheartedly celebrate Thanksgiving next week! We are so excited. We are headed to the mountains. We planned this trip a year ago. Lynn has always wanted to go to Gatlinburg for Thanksgiving. We had no idea what the next year would hold when we gave the kids a year notice to plan for this Thanksgiving. God is so good! He knew. He knew every storm we would walk through. He knew we would desperately need time away as a family to breathe and be normal. So we are off to a cabin in the woods. We will sit around a long table eating turkey. We will laugh and yes, we will probably cry. But mostly we will enjoy time together away from the normal we’ve been living in for the last year. We’ve had good days and bad days. And He has been faithful. We have been afraid and confident. And He has been faithful. We have been optimistic and unsure. And…He has been faithful. Because that is who He is. He is faithful when we are faithless.
Deep breath. I am thankful for every storm this year. Every painful moment, every emotional roller coaster, every shaky moment has moved us to walk a little closer to Him, to hang on tighter to His hand, to acknowledge Him in our lives and to trust Him. He allowed us to experience the love of His people through texts, visits, emails, meals and hugs. He took away a job that allowed me to walk every step of the way with my big guy. He allowed a precious moment with my Daddy hours before he went to be with Jesus. He had his hand on my new grandson born 5 ½ weeks early without complication for him or my precious daughter. And I watched my big guy walk his beautiful middle daughter down the isle for her wedding. There are a few other storms that I won’t mention here, but in each one God was there, holding me up, brushing the hair out of my eyes and the tears from my cheeks. I have missed more church then I ever have and I have had to step back in a few ministries, but I feel I am walking closer with Him then I have in a long time, because the walk isn’t based on any “works” or “faithfulness” on my part. I am not sure if this will make sense to you as the reader, but I know what it means. It means that inner part of me that sometimes gets a little wrapped up in doing, that pride part of me that rears its ugly head concerning being faithful was taken down a notch or two in the midst of this stormy year. I cried out and He heard me. I cried out and He wrapped His powerful arms around me. I cried out and He loved me right where I am. Not because of anything I did or because I deserve it, but because He loves me.
God is amazing people. We have absolutely no idea what the future holds. And that’s okay. Because we know He will be walking with us through it. I trust Him.
Letting Go is hard to do….
So my baby girl has graduated. She’s college bound….somewhere. She’s still in the midst of graduation events with friends and I haven’t seen her much in the last week. It’s hard. I’m not ready to not be a 24/7 Mama. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. I’ve been mothering for the last 26 years non-stop….but now? Now I find that I’m more of the keeper of the living accommodations! I know she and her sister still live here, because I see the evidence. My husband and I are usually already down for the night when they return. I peep in on them sometimes during the night, just to make sure they are breathing (old habits are hard to break, right!) How is it you spend nearly every day for eighteen years with someone, loving, guiding, nurturing, and protecting them, then BAM you become invisible? I’m not okay with stolen minutes here and there. I understand the natural process, don’t get me wrong. But we spend so much time preparing them for the big step, we worry over grades, over choices, over their safety and then they are off with a quick peck on your cheek and their graduation robes flapping in the wind!!! We stand there staring after them as they disappear into the distance and think, “Now what?” I think I’m holding on to apron strings that aren’t attached to anything!!!
Am I too old to start to work on my dreams? I don’t know. Do I need to make some changes in my life? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. All I do know is that I’ve been mothering for 26 years and I don’t know how to do anything else right at this moment. I’m sure I’ll figure it out. But letting go is hard to do. It requires great restraint. Can I get an amen!!!
I hate when you wake up in the early morning hours from a bad dream….the kind that drags you back to some scarring experience in your childhood and plays it over and over in your mind adding dynamics that increase the pain you already are familiar with when the nightmare swirls around in your memory. That was this morning. Waking up to bad memories…memories that while they are part of my life, I would rather completely forget them. Memories that stir up fear in my spirit. I tried to ignore the dream and ignore the dark clouds gathering. These memories are like the first drops of water in a gushing avalanche of water. I know how this can go. I’ve forgiven. I’ve moved on. I’ve broken free. Yet memories cannot be erased. I got in my car headed to work and turned the radio on. Breathe, Dana, just breathe. I prayed, “Lord, intercede for me. I don’t even know what to pray, but I know you know what’s going on in my head and my heart right now. I don’t want my day, my thoughts or my attitude to be affected by these memories. Help me. “ I rode toward work, KLove playing in the background softly. I continued to pray. Then the words of a song pierced the gloominess….
“Tell your heart to beat again
Close your eyes and breathe it in
Let the shadows fall away
Step into the light of grace
Yesterday’s a closing door
You don’t live there anymore
Say goodbye to where you’ve been
And tell your heart to beat again
Just let that word wash over you
It’s alright now
Love’s healing hands have pulled you through
So get back up, take step one”
Leave the darkness, feel the sun
‘Cause your story’s far from over
And your journey’s just begun
The Lord knows me so well. He knows what will cut through the darkness, He knows what will remind me of who I am, He knows how to speak right to heart right where I am. I fall in love with Him all over again as I realize He sees me….He hears me. Because I don’t care who you are, what you believe, what you are going through, you have to know that God orchestrates such moments to speak to us….in a real, audible voice. That song at that moment snatched me from the screaming voices of the enemy around me and pulled me into the light of truth. He is my healer. He is my provider. He is my Father. He does hear me. He does see me. And He thought I was important enough to play that song at that moment for me.
What do you need…..
What do you need? What will make your life complete? What thing would you do over and do differently? What would make you happy? There is so much this world has to offer to satisfy what ever is making you hungry. Hungry for love. Hungry for attention. Hungry for admiration. Hungry for fame. Hungry for fortune. But none is satisfying. None of it quenches that thing inside you needing to be rescued and answered. There is one thing alone that will wipe away the endless grasping, the endless longing, the endless quest to be satisfied….to be happy. The loved of God can wipe away every dark place we hide in our souls of things we hope never flashes across social media or finds it way to the ears of those we love. He alone can rescue our battered hearts from perpetual longing to be loved. He alone can wipe our slates clean. He alone forgives and forgets. He alone makes us new and clean and fresh and free. His Son made that sacrifice. His Son paid the price. His Son thought of us. He made a way for us to walk weightless through this journey of life. He became the bridge between us and God, making a way for us to freely come into the very presence every moment of every day. Imagine that we believe, we repent, we are forgiven and we immediately have access to the Almighty God who is everywhere, all the time, the One who created everything, who always was and will always be.
Choose today my friends. Choose now, while you read this post. It’s no mistake that you are here, now, reading this. It’s a divine appointment. Choose Jesus.
Message me if you need someone to walk with you.