Stronger...

Some of you may not have even noticed, but I shut down my facebook and stopped blogging a few weeks back. It wasn't that I didn't have things to say. I had PLENTY of things to say. These past few weeks have been, well, not pleasant. I am finally on the mend, both physically and emotionally. And the upside to the entire experience is that God did some really amazing things in my life and reminded me that He is with me ALWAYS! I know that I am a very curuios person, especially when I read other people's blogs and while I would love to spill the dirty, ugly details of what I was put through, I can't. You already know through my previous blogs that I am trying to get over this virus that has completely wiped me out, and I mean OUT. There have been several episodes of breaking out in tears. I have tried not to fall completely apart because it freaks Hubby out. I'm trying to hold it together. I really am. So, instead of focusing on the negative, I want to share the God things and hope that they inspire you and bring a smile to your face. I have a new anthem. It's Mandisa's song "Stronger". Look up the lyrics. They are amazing. I have been hearing the song on the radio for the past few weeks and I finally Shazam'd it and downloaded it. I love listening to it. God does too. There were 2 moments that it played on the radio at the exact moment I needed to hear it. My FF and I call these times God's Playlist. After having dealt with the "issue" and feeling very discouraged and questioning myself when "Stronger" starts pouring through the speakers like a salve to my wounded spirit, like aloe vera on a sunburn, like sweet honey on a warm biscuit. God was speaking to me. It was precious. That wasn't the first time God spoke to me last week. The night before hearing God's playlist He spoke to me. In my kitchen. Now before you go all, "no way Amy Lou, you don't even use your kitchen how could He speak to you there," let me finish the story. I was standing at the sink, contemplating having to face something the next morning that I should have never been put in the position to deal with in the first place. I looked up and noticed my Prayer of Jabez card holder. I reached out and picked up the first card. The verse printed on the card was "The Lord will keep you from all harm- He will watch over your life, the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore. Psalm 121:7-8" I shared this with Hubby and he swears that he didn't recognize that as the verse on the card at the front the last time he looked. He would know because he does stand there each morning while making coffee. Wow! I took the card and did not put it down until I went to bed. It stayed on my nightstand. I took it with me when I headed out the next morning knowing I was going to have to deal with the "issue". I carried it all morning. I decided to see what other words God had for me as I was preparing for what was sure to be an unpleasant experience. I opened the Bible app on my phone and decided to try an area around the verse I was already literally clinging to. I turned to Psalm 118. BAM! God is good. (I am putting Psalm 118 at the bottom of this blog.) I spent the morning listening to "Stronger" on my iPod and clinging to my card and re-reading Psalm 118. The "issue" was dealt with and God never left my side. It is my prayer that this is over and I will never have to deal with it again. But if that is not the case, I know that God will be by my side. I feel like everything I have posted lately has been negative and I really want to move beyond that kind of energy in my life. I am picking myself up. I am moving forward. I am stronger. I have a lot of people to thank for standing in the gap for me and being my prayer warriors; Hubby, my sister, my FF, my BF, my parents and probably a few more that I may never know about but that were praying nonetheless. God is good. All the time. Psalm 118 1 Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever. 2 Let Israel say: “His love endures forever.” 3 Let the house of Aaron say: “His love endures forever.” 4 Let those who fear the LORD say: “His love endures forever.” 5 When hard pressed, I cried to the LORD; he brought me into a spacious place. 6 The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me? 7 The LORD is with me; he is my helper. I look in triumph on my enemies. 8 It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in humans. 9 It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in princes. 10 All the nations surrounded me, but in the name of the LORD I cut them down. 11 They surrounded me on every side, but in the name of the LORD I cut them down. 12 They swarmed around me like bees, but they were consumed as quickly as burning thorns; in the name of the LORD I cut them down. 13 I was pushed back and about to fall, but the LORD helped me. 14 The LORD is my strength and my defense[a]; he has become my salvation. 15 Shouts of joy and victory resound in the tents of the righteous: “The LORD’s right hand has done mighty things! 16 The LORD’s right hand is lifted high; the LORD’s right hand has done mighty things!” 17 I will not die but live, and will proclaim what the LORD has done. 18 The LORD has chastened me severely, but he has not given me over to death. 19 Open for me the gates of the righteous; I will enter and give thanks to the LORD. 20 This is the gate of the LORD through which the righteous may enter. 21 I will give you thanks, for you answered me; you have become my salvation. 22 The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; 23 the LORD has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes. 24 The LORD has done it this very day; let us rejoice today and be glad. 25 LORD, save us! LORD, grant us success! 26 Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD. From the house of the LORD we bless you.[b] 27 The LORD is God, and he has made his light shine on us. With boughs in hand, join in the festal procession up[c] to the horns of the altar. 28 You are my God, and I will praise you; you are my God, and I will exalt you. 29 Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever.

Spring Broke (and I need fixing)

Who wants to spend Spring Break sick in bed? Well, I didn’t WANT to, but that is basically what I got. I am mentally fighting to kick whatever this is, but my body is just a little behind my mental determination on the get up and get moving.

Seriously, Monday was spent in bed. And if memory serves me right, the majority of Tuesday was as well. The exception being the 2 hours I went to get my hair done. I could not take the gray skunk stripe down the part of my hair any longer. By the time we were finished I had enough energy to drive home and collapse in my favorite place. Bed.

Wednesday was a bear. I had scheduled 4, yep, 4 doctors/dentist appointments. I thought it was a brilliant strategy to knock them all out in one trip to Fort Worth. Yeah right! The first one was at 8:30 and the second/third were scheduled for 9:30/10:00. If you have ever been to a general practitioners office, you know the mistake I just made. My mom works for the doctor, so as a rule I don’t have to sit in the waiting area very long. Nice perk. Mom came out to greet me and shortly after I was called back. I will never turn down VIP treatment. My deepest apologies to the man who shot daggers at me as I walked back. He had checked in ahead of me and made a comment about the amount of people waiting at 8:30 in the morning. The down side is that getting back to the room quickly doesn’t necessarily translate into seeing the doctor quickly. About 9:15, I am pulling out my phone to call the dentist to tell them we will be late to my 9:30 appt but that Hunter will be on time for his 10:00 cleaning. Wait. What? Both are at 9:30? That’s not what I had written down. Yikes. But luck was on my side. Mom walked by as I am on the phone and she tells me to go to the dentist and come back for the 2 shots and blood work. Because that is something you want to look forward to for an hour while the hygienist from hell is scraping on your teeth and ramming floss into your gums over and over. But you gotta do what you gotta do. So off we went and luck be a lady. The dentisit took care of my cleaning and Hunter had the nice hygienist. The only thing Cruella d’ Hygienist did was place the spit bib around my neck. Sweet. Wait. What? I have a cracked filling? It needs to be fixed? Can’t a chick catch a break? I made sure to schedule that little trip to Disney World for the beginning of April to give myself time to mentally prepare. Or dread it. Moving on. Headed back to doctors office to drop my drawers and donate some blood. That went really well. And the last appointment was Hunter’s. He is still experiencing break outs. Much to the chagrin of his dermatologist. Another month of Acutane. I think his confidence about Hunter being totally clear is starting to wane, but he is keeping a pretty good game face. Wednesday is a half day for Mom so we scheduled a lunch with her at the Olive Garden. I made up for not having an appetite Monday and Tuesday. Soup and salad and soup and salad and salad! Home to bed.

Thursday was Girl Day. I was a trooper. It was worth it. I am a major competitive clearance shopper. I love to get things on deep discount. I am talking the $4.97 racks at JCP. The 70% and more racks at Dillard’s. I will admit to having one label fetish. Ralph Lauren. I love his stuff. It’s clean. It’s classic. It will never go out of style. My favorite pink dress, pictured earlier on this blog, is a 70% off Ralph Lauren. Other than that dress, all of my Ralph Lauren Polo collection is from Marshalls. From the clearance aisle. It must be red tagged or I won’t buy. I found the perfect long sleeve cable knit red Polo sweater. Or maybe Juju found it and handed it to me. Either way, it went home with me. Love it. It’ll look great with the city shorts and great sandals that I found at Ross. Thursday was a success. Home to bed.

Friday was another day in town filled with appointments. Juju and I took Dad to get some stitches out and check on his healing. The report was good and he goes back Wednesday for hopefully more stitches coming out. That man is a trooper and my super-hero for how well he endures the pain. My nephew, Z-man, was scheduled to have surgery on his nose. He had a little incident in Winter Guard where he caught a pole with his face, not his hands. In between these two appointments, I was scheduled to video tape a testimonial about my time with Camp CommUNITY and MCA for the 30th/60th Anniversary of these two organizations. O-M-G. I am mortified. It was like instead of having a low red blood cell count I had a low brain cell count. I couldn’t put 2 coherent sentences together if my life and the life of my family depended on it. I know the poor camera man was thinking “and you people let her facilitate programs at your camp… she’s a teacher? Poor students.” Mortified. I promise you that come time for the Awards Dinner where this is supposed to be previewed, my segments will still be lying on the cutting room floor. And I am OK with that. 20 minutes after trying to get a take, I was drenched from head to toe in sweat. Can being low on red blood cells make you stupid? If so, let’s go with that. My lack of grasping the English language and answering questions about something I have been involved in for 25 years is from low red blood cells. That’s my story and I am sticking to it. I left the interview and went straight to the hospital where Z-man was out of surgery and had only a few minutes before being sent home. We get an update on his status Monday. Home to bed.

Saturday/Sunday. My family is starting to get hungry. The food supply in the house is dwindling. I have given official orders to Hubby and Boy that if they feel starvation coming on, get in a vehicle and go to town. Sustenance is 5 miles down the road. I am in bed.

Going back to work is starting to be a real concern. Can I even sit upright for 8 hours? Trust me, there will not be any roaming the room. Teaching will occur behind the desk or behind the podium. And as soon as that final bell rings. Home to bed. Wait. What? Someone has to go buy groceries? Pizza night. Tony’s delivers.

FOOTNOTE: Hubby has taken AMAZING care of me. He waited on me hand and foot the entire week. He did laundry, he spring cleaned, and made it totally possible for Boy to go and do all the things he wanted. I am a difficult person to live with to begin with (pipe down Too Tall, no need to post all the Amens running through your head right now. I admit my faults) and if you throw being sick on top of everything, I am more high-maintenance than usual. Hubby rocked it. He deserves a million gold stars.

Worship Closet (by way of Florida)

OK, before you go thinking that Amy Lou has finally flipped out from the stress; let me clarify the title of this blog. The point I am going to share at the end of this little ditty is my brainstorm about how a “worship closet” could be the answer to my “I don’t wanna go to church”. “By way of Florida” is just to let you know that I have a lot of stuff I want to say BEFORE getting there. (And D, we just might be going through Georgia to get to Florida- inside joke about my lack of geography skills when discussing the route we would be taking to Florida on a summer youth trip. I teach history not geography. Get over it. If only Hubby would let me forget.) Hang on and hang in there, I got things to say.

*Dad’s surgery was a success. If I wasn’t so squeamish I would have taken pics of each stage, but I only managed to snap a shot of his bandaged head. Therefore you won’t be seeing him looking like an Ooompa Loompa painted all orange after they prepped him. Good news…the doctor said he got the entire tumor. Of course this was in-between talking about his ranch and hunting hogs and Mom quizzing him on his political views. I was totally cracking up. I don’t think the doctor ever saw that coming. Not so good news… Dad now has a hole in his head. Juju is insistent that the hole in his head has had zero negative effects since she is still solid in her standing as favorite daughter. Yeah, yeah, whatever. He also sliced off some nose and felt it would come back basal cell, which is the least invasive skin cancer. Mark that in the good news category. The upside to this little operation is that he got a mini-forehead lift. They had to pinch his scalp together so tight on his right side that he lost some wrinkles and now looks like he is giving the raised eyebrow when he looks at you. Or it could just be me. I’ve gotten that look a lot in my 40 years. Mostly back in the 80s and the early 2000s. (Black sheep syndrome; youth and post divorce). The scar will probably look like a Z which the doctor said stands for Zorro. The same doctor cut on Juju and she has the same Z on the back of her neck. It must be his signature scar. Although Juju calls it her Harry Potter scar because it favors the lightning bolt or something. I don’t know Potter.

*After Dad’s surgery, Mom and I dropped him off at home and headed off to the Olive Garden for our favorite soups and salad. Before you get all judgmental about leaving Dad alone right after his surgery a) he was fine and the doctor said “no activity, just rest” and 2) he hates going out to eat. So Mom and I had a great lunch and some great conversation. I cherish our mom/daughter times. We had some chuckles about her sister, who is 91 and just moved in to an assisted living facility. Aunt Sena Bell is a social butterfly and has quickly made friends and been reacquainted with friends from the ol’ days. I can’t wait to go see her in her new pad. Mom also shared with me a blessing that she had received. It’s really cool when you hear about God doing His thing and it touches someone you know. I am not going to repeat the story here, it’s Mom’s to tell, but it was really awesome. I shared with Mom that my next blog was going to be titled “40 Sucks” and she very sweetly said, “Oh honey, don’t write something negative, be positive”. So you can thank her for the “Worship Closet” and the fact that you are not reading a list of all the ways I think 40 sucks! However, she didn’t get off quite as easy as you. I proceeded to explain to her why 40 sucks and in response she called my doctor’s office (which is where she works, convenient huh?) and made an apportionment for me on Wednesday. I already have 2 other doctor’s appointments that day so this makes it a trifecta. Here is what I envision going down Wednesday (after I tell the nice little dental hygienist to back the hell up with the floss because you are not going to make my gums bleed for days, ever again!) … I am going to tell my doc that I haven’t been able to shake the “winter blues” and I have absolutely no energy. I have insomnia, more than usual, and I can burst into tears at the drop of a well placed commercial for Nutrisystem. We are going to draw some blood, check the thyroid and such, and stick out my hip for a big ol’ B12 shot in the booty. I need a jump start with some energy and am betting the farm that this will work. If it doesn’t, brace yourself for a “40 Sucks” blog.

*Worship Closet. The big finale. What you have been waiting for. OK. At lunch Mom mentions again her concern about Hubby and I not having a church home and the connection to people that comes with it. I listened attentively, because that is what daughters do, but I didn’t jump in to defend my position. I totally understand her concern; I was raised in church. I know all the church-thingy’s that we are supposed to do. But I just can’t go there right now. After lunch with Mom, I had a meeting with some Camp CommUNITY friends and we began talking about relationships, which led to a conversation about faith. It was kinda like getting to Florida by way of Georgia and you don’t need the detour details. Sooooo, I shared with my friends that Hubby and I were no longer a part of a church family and that if I could find a church with an awesome worship service, I would love to go and then leave when the preaching started. It’s the songs, singing, praying through the music, which brings me the feeling of being close to God. It’s not a guy up front preaching AT me, berating me for my failures, etc… As I was considering our conversation on the drive home, the verse about prayer closets came to mind. Matthew 6:6 But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. So if this is what we should be doing in our prayer life, could I not do this in my worship; get up on Sunday morning, go into my “closet” and fire up my favorite worship play list on my iPod and worship. Taking that time each Sunday morning and earnestly seek Him through song and praise. I think I am on to something. I think I am going to try it. I will let you know how it goes.

Showers of Blessings and Mercy Drops

There shall be showers of blessing:
This is the promise of love;
There shall be seasons refreshing,
Sent from the Savior above.
Showers of blessing,
Showers of blessing we need:
Mercy-drops round us are falling,
But for the showers we plead.

Those verses come from a hymn that I can remember singing in church when I was a kid and I never understood what “mercy-drops” were. As an adult, I think “mercy-drops” are those little glimpses of light when the world seems dark around you.

It has been a while since I have blogged. I just haven’t had anything funny, snarky or worthy to post. In fact it has felt like a black cloud hanging around my head and to be honest, it hasn’t come from anything that affects me directly. First of all, I have a high school friend whose 19 year old son collapsed at his college gym while jogging. After spending 2 weeks in ICU, he has been moved to an acute care facility where he is slowly making progress. Can you imagine? A healthy 19 year old collapses and so many lives are changed forever in that instant. Today I spent the morning at a funeral for my co-worker/friend’s father who passed away from Lymphoma. He was 64. My Daddy is 70 and has been in remission from Lymphoma for 5 years. I can NOT imagine having to go through what my friend is experiencing right now. I am Daddy’s little girl. The black sheep. The one that keeps things interesting. But still his little girl. I am taking him next week to have some carcinoma removed from his head. He battles skin cancer on his head, face, and arms on a pretty regular basis. I don’t think they promoted sunscreen when he was out picking cotton, plowing soybean fields, or riding motorcycles in his youth. I love my Daddy and I want him here with me forever. (and I want my Mom forever too!)

I realized as I was trying to shake off the dark cloud, I have many blessings in my life. I should focus on those when there seems to be a lack of light. My family. I am so lucky that I have a family that is close and loves each other through thick and thin. I am blessed that my Mom still spoils us by serving Sunday Dinner at her house each week. I cherish those days and do not like to miss. It seems lately that we have been having the best conversations around that table. The grandkids are getting older and they have started joining in sharing insights about the world we live in. When I leave that table, I think “Good Times. Good Times.” I have an instant shopping partner with my sister and usually a movie and dinner date as well. That may not be a blessing to my wallet, but we always have a great time. Then there is the blessing of second chances. Hubby. Hubby spoils me rotten. He loves me, faults and all. He listens to me when I have had a bad day. He laughs with me. He cooks for me. And for himself when I am out with my shopping partner. He’s not afraid to have sandwiches for dinner. Twice a week. Blessings of family. They are priceless.

My friends. People have many different types of friends. I am no exception. Friends that I see on a regular basis. Friends that I work with. Childhood friends that I can pick up with where we left off when I run into them at Homecoming or at Walmart. Couple friends that we make dates with when we need a night on the town and adult conversation. And for me, I have a FF. Forever Friend. She’s 3 hours away, but if I ever needed her, she would be here in 2 hours 45 minutes. No questions asked. You might have an FF too. In fact, I hope you do. FF’s are the friends that know you. The core of you. They know the facts that you don’t want in your obituary and will make sure they don’t give you a Sally Field football helmet hairdo at your funeral (Steel Magnolia reference in case you are lost). I reached out to my FF this week begging her to tell me something great. I felt like each day this week I was getting darker and darker with the trials and tribulations of people around me. I needed to be lifted up. In true FF fashion, she immediately replied with a song. This is what she sent…

Take my hand and walk with me a while
Cause it seems your smile has left you
And don't give in, when you fall apart
And your broken heart has failed youI'll set a light up
On a hilltop
To show you my love
For this world to see
You can borrow mine
When your hope is gone
Borrow mine
When you can't go on
'Cause the world will not defeat you
When we're side by side
When your faith is hard to find
You can borrow mine
Take my love when all that you can see
Is the raging sea all around us
And don't give up 'cause I'm not letting go
And the God we know will not fail us
We'll lay it all down
As we call out
Sweet Savior help our unbelief
You can borrow mine
When your hope is gone
Borrow mine
When you can't go on
'Cause the world will not defeat you
When we're side by side
When your faith is hard to find
You can borrow mine
When you are weak
Unable to speak
You are not alone
The God who has saved us
Will never forsake us
He's coming to take us
Take us to our home
You can borrow mine
When your hope is gone
Borrow mine
When you can't go on
'Cause the world will not defeat you
When we're side by side
When your faith is hard to find
When your faith is hard to find
You can borrow mine
Take my hand
Take my love
Don't give in
Don't give up

I haven’t always been the best of friend to people in my life and I know that I have hurt people and wished a million times that I had a do-over. But I would like to think that if you needed a friend, I would be there for you.

Thanks to my Sister for sharing her date night with her youngest son and meeting me and Boy for dinner last night. Thanks to my FF for rescuing me with a song. These were my “mercy-drops” this week.

Family Tree - we got branches!

Make no mistake, I love history. Couple that with my love of family and I have the perfect new project to work on during the summer. My Family Tree. Let me give you some background. I come from a large extended family. My mother is the youngest of 7 kids that produced 26 first cousins. (I don’t know the correct algebraic equations it would take to determine the correct number of 2nd cousins.) We didn’t spend summer vacations at Disney World, etc. We spent our summers camping in Oklahoma with aunts and uncles and then taking the trailer to Grandma’s house in Arkansas and camping in her back yard for a week. These were the BEST times of my life. I could write for hours about our adventures and misadventures; sitting on the back porch singing gospel hymns so my Grandfather could hear them through his bedroom window, shucking corn under the giant tree, cutting a watermelon on the tailgate and eating it right off the rind, shelling purple-hulled peas until your fingers were stained, learning to drive in the old farm truck in the pasture, walking to the store and filling your poke sack full of candy, finally getting the courage to jump from the back porch to the yard which seemed like it was 3 stories high, swinging on the porch swing so high you thought you would fall off and hit the ground 3 stories below, or something close to that, playing hide and seek, jumping off the wood shed, using the outhouse, drawing up water from the well and everyone drinking out of the same dipper, oh the list could be exhausting. These are memories that are precious to me.

My mom and I have been doing a little digging using her Family History books, from the counties her and my dad were born in, combined with the Internet. It has been a blast. We intend to get serious over the summer because she is going to retire by then, we think. The date is a little fuzzy on when that occurrence is set to happen, but I feel good saying that by summer she’ll be a lady of leisure and most deservedly so.

Here is a preview of what I know…
* I am a first generation Texan. And that makes me proud. Real proud. And sometimes obnoxious.
* Mom and Dad are both Arkansas born and bred so I have some hillbilly blood mixed in with my Texas upbringing. But not to the point that I think it is appropriate to go barefoot or forgo dental hygiene or marry a cousin. Flirt with a 2nd cousin at my 40th birthday? Yeah, that’s ok. He’s young. And cute. He kept buying me drinks. I got sloshed. It happens. Moving on.
*Maintaining my Southern Belle-ness is important to me. Who doesn’t love a southern girl? I do not want to be discovering any Yankee blood up here in these veins.
*My great grandmother, Dad’s side, is from Alabama and Mississippi. Keeping it below the Mason-Dixon baby!
*My great-great grandfather was a successful rancher. He land rushed TWICE in Oklahoma. Uh oh! When I read this part, I knew I was in trouble with the Hubby. Land rushers are thieves according to him. That would make me a descendant of a Boomer Sooner and that is not good. I hope my marriage survives.
* Back to me. GGG was also reported to be an expert marksman. (Remember my blog about my success with a .22. It’s in my blood. Of course I am a natural.)
*Now here is where it could get dangerous. GGG’s family is traced back to colonial Maryland. Now before we go sounding the Yankee alarms, take a deep breath. I am a history teacher and I know things: out of the original 13 colonies 4 were northern, 4 were middle and 5 were southern. Maryland was a SOUTHERN colony. Our nation’s capital is located between Maryland and Virginia as a way to appease the SOUTH during the Compromise of 1790. It had to do with a northerner, Hamilton, ripping off the south and buying back bonds from speculators in the north. And Maryland is below the Mason-Dixon. It’s all good.

I am so excited about this journey and if I find out any other cool stuff, I will definitely keep you posted. And if I find any Yankee blood, you will find me curled up in a fetal position gnashing and wailing, “This is it, I've found it, I'm in hell.” (What good southern girl can’t quote a little Ousier Boudreuax from Steel Magnolias?)

Birthday Breakdown

February 14th isn't about Valentine's Day in our house. It's Hubby's birthday and this year was a big one. The big 4-0 to be exact. Yeah, yeah, I robbed the cradle. Get over it. I like younger men. (nearly 6 months to the day- ha!) Since this was a special day and Hubby demanded no party or fuss, we decided to forgo the work world and spend the day together.

Here is the birthday breakdown...

*First stop, AT&T in Lake Worth where we purchased the iPhone 4 for Hubby. The service was awesome. You should go there if you ever need anything. Ask for Fasio.

*Best auxiliary purchase at the store, Otter Box. Hubby's phone went flying out of his hand the first time he opened the door to the truck. I will not be repeating what he said at that moment. This blog is PG13. For the most part.

*Next stop Winchester Gun Range. Woohoo. We were all redneck up in there. Momma learned how to shoot a 22 and I am a natural. Or so I say. Hubby says "Stay still. Don't move. Give her 3 or 4 minutes to set her grip, pull the hammer back, and think about the trigger pull and at 15 feet you are one dead sucker!"

*He better watch what he says.

*Razoos for lunch.

*Academy to restock ammo. And buy a snazzy pink set of hearing protectors for moi. Hey, if I am going to be all Ninja in the range, I am going to look stylish.

It was a great day and I am so thankful that Hubby and I were able to spend it together. Sometimes you just gotta say work shmerk...

Beat Me Up for Jesus or Live Loved. The choice is yours...

The picture included in this blog reminds me of my past. When I saw it I was struck that I actually knew someone that should take heed of the sign’s message. (WARNING: This blog may not be for the faint of heart. I won’t be using any names or naming locations, but if you are a personal friend, you might recognize some of the things/people I will be referencing. Feel free to click off now. You won’t hurt my feelings. I understand that talking about religion is sometimes a touchy subject or even uncomfortable. But at the same time, I began this blogging journey as a way and a place for me to share my thoughts and experiences.)

As mentioned in an earlier blog, I am in the midst of reading a book by Jake Colsen “So You Don’t Want to Go to Church Anymore”. The reason I don’t want to go is because of the big honking scabs left by the wounds of my previous Church experience. (Note: the capitalization of Church is used to reference a particular building without naming it) Now, let me say that after much soul searching I realize I created many of these wounds by my own actions. It all really started when I began to think that I mattered in Church. Trust me, when you leave a church and no one sincerely reaches out to you, the realization that you did not matter is quick to sink in. A dear friend used this analogy with Hubby and it rings so true: put your fist in a bucket of water. Now take it out. The time it takes for the water to fill the space where your fist was is how long you matter to those left behind. The upside to this experience is our Friends who supported us and held our hands and loved us through this entire process. And it is a process. In fact during our last visit with our Friends, I made the statement that one day we would be able to have dinner and coffee and NOT have to decompress our shared experiences about Church. It wouldn’t be the THING that entered every conversation. And later through tears, I acknowledged for the first time, out loud, my guilt over my sin in thinking that I mattered. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t easy, but it needed to be done. (Sidenote: while in Church, I loved the people I worked with. These people loved the Lord and served Him willingly and I had some life experiences that would have never happened were it not for my time spent there. But at the end of this journey, I realized that for me it had become more about ‘look at me and all the work I am doing’ and less about the selflessness of serving God) With that journey complete, I feel free to take my time and experience this new journey.

I do not need to be “Beat Up for Jesus” which is what my previous experience came down to. The constant mandates from the pulpit of the Church to pray harder, do more, give more, it can never be enough, you must sacrifice friendships, family time and any pleasure in order to be pleasing to God is so ridiculous. And as we knew that our time in Church was coming to an end we began to watch and listen. Very carefully. It was shocking. The idea that the Church was open to everyone was false advertising. There were those that belonged and those that didn’t. Those that told the truth and those that didn’t. And before you start pounding the keyboard to remind me about throwing stones and judge not lest ye be judged, I was there. I was in the trenches and I know truth from fiction. When being honest was no longer sacred, when it became negotiable for a means to an end, when people could stand up and choose political correctness over the truth, however uncomfortable it might have been to speak it, I walked out never to step foot in Church again. There are so many other things I could point to in hindsight but it is not warranted here. When we reflect on the entirety of what we saw and heard going on around us it is no wonder Christians have a bad rap.

Fundamentalism is not for me. Living Loved is for me. That phrase is such a sweet sound in my ear and I am forever grateful to the friends that introduced the concept into my life. Jesus loves me. He loves me when I am teaching in my classroom. He loves me when I am sitting with Hubby on the couch watching NCIS marathons. He loves me when I am doing laundry. He loves me on Sunday morning when I watch Boy go to Youth service and I stay home to read, rest, relax. Just because I am not in a pew on Sunday morning does not mean that He does not love me. Right now the most pressing concern of not having a church “home” is where they would have the meal after my funeral if I died. So I am thinking if that is the only scenario giving me pause about not “being in church”, then I am OK. (Suggestion, have it at Mom’s church. It is where I first started attending church, at birth, and would be a fitting book end to my life. I will lay out all the other plans for my funeral in another blog, but in case I don’t have the chance to write it, the plans are in a spiral in my Bible. And thank you in advance for attending, or singing, or speaking, whichever I have lined you up to be responsible for. And eat a lot and laugh a lot and display tons of pictures of me. Ok, I digress)

Living Loved. What a concept. Why did it take so long for me to get to this point? To quote an excerpt from an article on this topic, “You are simply transitioning from religious obligation to a relational reality.” Now, before you read on, please understand that I am NOT trying to convert you to my way of thinking. I am simply sharing my thoughts. I am not judging you or trying to convince you that my way is better. It’s not about that at all. The ground work for me being able to leave the striving behind is from my wonderful opportunity to form relationships with people from many different backgrounds/religions at Camp CommUNITY. It has allowed me to grow, accept, not judge people who do not worship as I do. The fact that they are Jewish/Baha’i/Buddhist/Catholic/Methodist/and on and on does not mean they are “wrong”. Putting right and wrong in the matter of faith no longer sits well with me. I would never attempt to try and “convert “my Buddhist friend from her belief system to mine. (And by the way, a Buddhist wedding ceremony is one of the most beautiful things I have witnessed on this earth.) Let me go back to what I stated earlier. It’s about relationship for me now. No hoop jumping, no judgment, no beating me up for Jesus. It’s about love. I choose love. I will always choose love. And since I am not revoking my Christianity, just transitioning my thoughts about my daily experiences and walk with Christ, I’ll use a standard Christian Sunday School song to sum it up… Jesus loves the little children. Did you catch the most important word in that song? LOVES… it says it all.

Instead of plagiarizing an entire article, I am providing a link that was generously shared with me by my Friend and I would encourage you to check it out. And most importantly, live loved. http://www.lifestream.org/bodylife.php?blid=59