Just For Today

A New Road To Travel

2009-10-25T15:20:00.004-06:00

For the first time in I can't remember how long, I finally feel like I am exactly where God wants me to be. He's made it so obvious how this was all orchestrated and I feel blessed. I know the work ahead is hard, but the reward is eternity with my King and a little boy who will respect his Mom.

For those of you who don't know, I am living in a Women's Center in Capitol Hill. It's a lovely place, started many years ago by a group of nuns. The facility in beautiful, but what captivates me more is the stories I hear everyday of women, much like me, transformed. I am at the beginning of my journey, and a bit scared, but as I've said before He is the potter and I am the clay. I am eager to see what sort of masterpiece God creates out of me. For the first time in I don't know how many years, I don't feel vacant. I sense the power of the Holy Spirit in me and he is working. So many of you have prayed and those prayers did not fall on deaf ears. I am surround by women of diversity, but a handful who love the Lord. My eyes have been opened the past few weeks as to what the real issues are and I believe that God brought me to this place to begin working on those issues. It's good to have arrived, but scary to see what lies ahead. This one thing I do know: I walk in faith with my Savior. I walk in confidence with my King. And I walk with my head up with my Redeemer.

There are a handful to have faithfully prayed and I just want to thank you: Grams, Mom, Cheri, Randy, Jean, Terry, Gena, Maelisa, Cindy, Tosha, and a certain 8 year old boy. Amen that God is working! God is faithful. To the road ahead...

A Tapestry

2009-08-20T02:49:00.004-06:00

Writing is wonderfully cathartic for me, so as you read this, you must understand that at this very moment what I am typing seeps from the deepest part of my heart - the very fabric of a tender spot within my soul.

Recently, as I posted earlier in the blog, I felt God calling me to give my daughter Madilynn a precious gift. That gift required sacrifice on my part, but it was so evident that the result now and in the long run is the absolute best for her. The Lord laid on my heart that her stepmom should be able to adopt her. Frankly, to call this woman "stepmom" isn't fair, when the reality is that she has been Madilynn's Mom much more than I have. Introducing and explaining why I haven't been there would take the next decade to explain, so just take my word for it. Anyway, I emailed "C" today and briefly shared my thoughts. My inclination was that she would of course agree, but that the final workings of all this would be played out in the months to come. You can imagine my dismay when after a short time, minutes in fact, I saw a response to my email. C told me that she filed a petition and it was granted in June 2009 (I was unaware of this petition). Honestly, I just sat and cried. I wept for the moments I've missed out on, for the goodnight kisses hoarded in my imagination, for the unfamiliar feel of her hand curled in mine. Those same tears flowed with joy, as I thought of such a deserving Mom who took my stead and the little girl who has not gone without love in her life because of it. I wept out of grief, I wept out of jealousy, I wept with relief.

Lately, it has been difficult to show any level of vulnerability - to let people see the real me. Running away in various forms has become a pastime of mine. I keep thinking about a quote by C.S. Lewis that basically says that God whispers to us in our joys, yet He shouts in our pain. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world. Faithfully, His shouting has been relentless of late and it has broken through the slumber of depression. The process by which I must sort through the tattered shreds of my life feels daunting. Yet, I am reminded that it is God who weaves the fabric of the tapestry together. From my perspective underneath this tapestry, I see only threads, remnants of loosely sewn experiences, the bits and pieces that make up my life. Ever the Master, He sees the tapestry on the proper side. Is it a gilded work of art that displays forgiveness, grace, redemption, willingness and humility? Does He guide the needle gently to intertwine His Spirit through my heart and mind? Will the sum of His efforts someday manifest a creation worthy to be displayed to others, or more importantly, collected in a gallery that reflects His handiwork? It matters not where this galleria is. What matters is that I offer myself to Him, a continuous supply of threads that can be woven and spun.

The cord of motherhood is a part of His design for me. I am sad in some ways that the ribbons I chose have been set aside and replaced with the light of someone else. Yet I hope, that the thread I call Madilynn, will somehow be crafted back into my life as this tapestry is made. I once saw a tapestry of the face of Jesus. There was the slightest sight of a glorious gold ribbon. Without it, His eyes would not have glimmered, attention to His hands would remain unnoticed. This delicate yet sparing gold thread made the tapestry what it was. Perhaps Madilynn is my gold thread.

For the work you are creating, I give thanks that you weave with perfection. May the tapestry of my daughter be the most splendid display of your artistry.

2009-08-01T14:26:00.003-06:00

I keep thinking about this quote I heard the other day. "God does not call the equipped. He equips the called." Admittedly, I feel ill-equipped right now. While I realize that perhaps that furthers my reliance on the Lord, I also recognize that my feelings of inadequacy paralyze me. I've certainly been in worse places, feeling the tattered ends of the rope while clinging on to it with what little strength I had left. I am not at the end of my rope right now, but I could say with certainty that I've been hit with the apathetic stick.

Lord, it's hard for me to express just how I feel right now, but I trust that the Holy Spirit is interceding for me. I am in need of some specific provisions and my looming doubt is trying to convince my heart that you will not come through. Somehow please connect my head, my heart and my soul to your presence. I do long to seek you, to know you more and be crafted how you see fit. I can't even begin to imagine what that portrait would look like, but trust that indeed you are the artist. As the song says "You are the potter, I am the clay. You are the artist and I am the paint. You are the writer and I am your song - I will be your instrument my whole life long. Mold me, change me, color me in shades of you. Play me, sing through me a melody, so when they look at me they will only see who you are. You are my Father and I am your child. An empty vessel, and you are the fire. All that you are Lord is all I desire - Master, Creator...take my life. Make me your work of art." (Shannon Wexelberg - Work Of Art).

To be clearer shades of you is what I ask for.

God's Curriculum

2009-07-13T17:57:00.003-06:00

Recently, I read a prayer from Elisabeth Elliot. I was enamored with it, so I made it my own. "Lord, teach me to treat all that comes my way with the sensibility that you have ordained it. May such lessons spur peace of soul and with firm conviction, may I trust that your will governs all." My Lord, in His infinite humor and steadfast heart of teaching, decided it was time to put that prayer into practice.

To begin with, is that peace of soul something that has hallmarked my life? Honestly, no. I am most certainly one of those people who much prefers to be in the driver's seat. Generally, it's when life turns chaotic or painful that I seek God. This, of course, is not how He intended it to be. But, I am flawed and to say that I run to God amidst all things would be far from the truth. I have, however, lived in said peace long enough to know that it indeed can only come from God, who gives "not as the world gives."

A few months ago, the Lord laid a decision on my heart concerning my daughter Madilynn. Initially, I resisted his prodding to belay the claim I had on her. What claim you might ask? Well, without sucking you into the saga, I have not been the mother she deserves, nor have I been responsible or involved at a level that would warrant typical motherly claims. The Lord has provided immensely for her, giving her a Daddy who adores her and a step mom who has carefully reared this precious blessing in my absence. Could it be God's will that I should step back and give Madilynn, and her step mom, a much deserved gift? That gift would allow Madilynn to be adopted by her step mom. My conclusion is yes. But, arriving there led me down a path in which I had to own my shortcomings, and realize that to make up for them in a worldly sense, would take more than a lifetime. I do believe that His will governs all. In a wrong-filled world, we suffer...and we cause many wrongs. God is here to comfort, to heal, and to forgive. He can bring blessings in abundance out of our sin (which is to say we should enter into sinful behavior hoping blessings might surface down the road). I have been fortunate to encounter this again and again in my life.

I've thought a great deal about the love I have for Madilynn, the love I have for my Lord, yet the disdain I have held for myself over this situation. I wronged her, perhaps in ways she cannot yet understand. I am afraid that someday she will understand, yet I must cling to God's grace to face that day when and if it comes, believing that His will truly does govern all things. Dwelling on this love, I've been assured that love, as God designed it, is very patient, it is very kind. Love never seeks its own. Love looks to God for his grace to help.

Amidst this lesson, I've learned that in this heavenly curriculum, I have wanted to pick and choose the lessons as I see fit. I wish to assemble the curriculum according to my own preferences and areas of need that I perceive. The idea of what I actually need to learn are limited and even more distorted. What I seek from God, is help. Help me relinquish control. Help me love as you would see fit. Govern all of me. Mercifully, God does not leave me to choose my own curriculum. His wisdom is perfect, His knowledge embraces not only all worlds but the individual hearts and mind of each of His loved children. I must trust and believe that He will govern the lessons of my daughter as well. What I do know, is that there are lessons in this curriculum that I wish I could skip. But, I press on, seeking to do His will and apply His truth to my life. Today, I can stand and say what the psalmist said: "I, thy servant, will study your statutes. Your instruction is my continual delight, to it I turn for counsel. I will run the course set out in your commandments, for they bring joy to my heart." Psalm 119:23, 24, 32.

Today, with joy, I drink deeply from the fountain of salvation (Isaiah 12:3) and I dive into the well of instruction God deems for this lesson. With a heart of love, I know that giving Madilynn back to the arms of the Father and allowing Him to govern her life is a gift that cannot be put in a nice box with a bow. It can however, be delivered through the bending of my knees, the pushing aside of my own wants, and the ever fervent desire to do what is best for who I consider to be one of my greatest blessings.

Lord, I give you thanks for your mercy and bringing forth the sweet peace of being in your will.

Keeping A Quiet Heart

2009-04-20T03:18:00.003-06:00

Elisabeth Elliot is one of my favorite authors. She writes in a way that is raw, exposes truth, all while being touchingly compassionate given all that she has faced in life. She has a book entitled Keep A Quiet Heart, which I highly suggest you have in your library. "Lord, You have assigned me my portion and my cup, and have made my lot secure." (Psalm 16:5). I often think about that night the disciples were out on the Sea of Galilee and the storm was raging. They were petrified, convinced they would end up on the bottom of the sea. Yet, our Lord was fast asleep, seemingly unaware of the tumultuous storm raging around them. The disciples were angry and shook Him awake with rebuke. How could he sleep through such an event? His heart was quiet as he rested in the calm assurance of the Father. I don't think any of us possess a heart so perfectly at rest, for most don't live in divine unity, however, we can learn more and more each day regarding what Jesus knew. Kierkegaard said that purity of heart is to will one thing. Christ willed only one thing: the will of His Father. Believing that God has assigned me my portion and my cup, knowing my lot is secure in His hands, is there is no greater simplifier of life? Can we say there are things that happen which do not belong to our lovingly assigned portion (this belongs, that does not)? Are some things then, out of the control of the Almighty? I believe every assignment is measured for my eternal good. As I accept certain portions, others are cancelled out (don't mistake what I'm saying to mean that we do not have the ability to exercise free will), and as I accept my heart becomes inexpressibly quieter. My assignment entails my willing acceptance of my portion, whether I like it or not. Our response is what matters, and quietness creeps in when we wholly believe that our portion is in the hands of the Father. God promises that He will comforts us, just as a mother comforts her child (Isaiah 66:13). The choice is ours. I can willingly see God, receive from His hand that which He offers with gratitude. Shall I charge him with a mistake in His measurement or with misjudging the sphere in which I can best learn to trust Him? Has He indeed misplaced me? Is He ignorant of things or people that might hinder my doing His will? No. God doesn't love me because of me, He loves me because He is God.

The secret to accepting my portion and my cup is Christ in me, not a different set of circumstances. "He whose heart is kind beyond all measure, gives unto each day what He deems best, lovingly its part of pain and pleasure, mingling toil with peace and rest" Lina Sandell

Lord, today I'll do my best to accept what is given to me, knowing that your measurement is for my best. I will keep a quiet heart in the assurance that you, my God, offer me all that I need to live day by day. In the moments that the torment and confusion seem to overwhelm me, grant me the peace that Jesus felt that night on the boat. You are indeed, my blessed assurance.

Merciful Refusals

2009-04-08T17:55:00.002-06:00

Many of us face serious dilemmas and choices in life. In fact, not a single person I know has ever escaped this. I know that I've often prayed for God to somehow remove the struggle, erase the dilemma, and allow me to move on. Usually the answer is "No, not right away." Face it, I must. Furthermore, such situations beckon me to my knees and it is generally there that I learn to wait on the Lord. Notice I didn't say patiently wait. Sometimes patience is in my possession, other times it's as absent as a high school senior the Monday after prom.

St. Augustine said, "The very pleasures of human life men acquire by difficulties." There are times with the entire arrangement of our existence is disrupted and we long for a single quiet and ordinary day. My perception has often been that an ordinary life is greatly desirable, even wonderful, in light of the terrible things that have taken place. I am reminded that difficulties open our eyes to pleasures and gifts clearly taken for granted. The apostle Paul said that he had been "very thoroughly initiated into the human lot with all its ups and downs" (Philippians 4:12, NEB). He was hard-pressed, bewildered, persecuted and struck down. God, in His mercy, didn't remove Paul's hardships. Some of God's greatest mercies are His refusals, are they not? Instead, God made himself known to Paul because of his trials, in such ways as to strengthen his faith and make him an instrument of peace to the rest of us. Hard-pressed Paul was, but not hemmed in - God promises we will never be tempted beyond our power to endure (I can't tell you how many times I've doubted this). Bewildered Paul was, but never at wit's end - God promises wisdom to those who ask for it. Persecuted Paul was, but never left to stand it alone. God promises His unfailing presence, all the days of our lives. Struck down Paul was, but not left to die, although some of Paul's rescues were ignominious in the extreme (think of Paul being let down over a wall in a basket to land on a chunk of plywood). Certainly not the means Paul likely envisioned that the Lord would use to fulfill His promises. But on second thought, why not? Absurdity sometimes does us good. It reminds of God's power and most definitely, His creativity. Yes, life can be absurd - on the surface - but every bit of it is planned, just as Paul tells us. "It is for your sake that all things are ordered, so that, as the abounding grace of God is shared by more and more, the greater may be the chorus of thanksgiving that ascends to the glory of God" (II Corinthians 4:15 NEB). Do I sing a chorus of thanksgiving for God's merciful refusals? Does my song reflect the gratitude of a sinner saved by grace? I ought to think twice about asking the Lord to remove the thorn in my side and instead, seek to find joy in the absurdity of it all. God always answers our prayers. Sometimes, one merciful refusal at a time.

Selah

My Manifesto

2009-04-04T23:42:00.003-06:00

I was catching up on a friend's blog tonight and came across a post about a Survivor's Manifesto. I read it and then tried to go on about my merry little way. I had to stop what I was doing and come to terms with what I'm experiencing right now. Anger. I'm so angry about so many things. For me, anger is very scary and for the majority of my life, it was never okay to be angry. You see, in our house, it meant that things could turn upside down in the blink of an eye and turmoil in one form or another, always ensued. Often, I use anger now as a buffer, somehow thinking that it will keep people at arms length. In fact, it does, but that's not a good thing. I realized that recently, I've been shutting people out, keeping myself in and stewing. There have been various circumstances as of late that have sent me into a tail spin. Some of those situations warranted anger, many did not. Frankly, I've wanted to scream at other people and say "Why don't you understand me? Is it that hard to identify with what I'm trying to communicate?" Not the best line of defense and generally, no, they don't get what I'm trying to express primarily because my method is, well, just lame. Here are some of the items on that manifesto, adjusted to what I want to say.
1.) Don't judge where I am. You may not know where or how complicated my journey has been.
Even if you've been a part of that journey, don't assume that you know the depths of the impact it has had on me.
2.) Respect the courage it took to survive.
3.) Don't act like my emotions and feelings are flawed.
4.) Don't give glib answers or ideas. I know deep down what I need to do next. Sometimes it takes me time to do the next right thing. Generally, I come around. Let the process run it's course.
5.) Set boundaries with me. Understand that sometimes I don't know what my own boundaries ought to be. Be patient with me and trust that I'll keep striving to learn.
6.) What matters, is not what you intend, but how it feels to me. I'll keep that at the forefront of my mind when I'm with you too.
7.) Just because you don't "get it" doesn't mean I'm wrong.
8.) I'm always questioning my assumptions and working to change/improve my life. With that in mind, please don't act condescending or superior. To patronize me is hurtful adn the most sure fire way to ruin our relationship permanently.
9.) Just because you don't want to believe it could happen to nice people, or in families like yours, in no way does that mean I will stop telling the truth...ever.
10.) I am the expert on who I am and what I need. You may not believe that, or agree with my choices. I might even contradict what you think you know, but there is no way you can have as complete access to who I am and what I've experienced, as I do. The only one with that access is God. Let Him do His job.
11.) Trust that I am doing the best I know how.
12.) What may seem like massive character defects to you may actually be the foundations of strength. Trust that God is working in me.
13.) When I get angry, that usually means that I'm really hurting inside. Instead of continuing to argue with me, ask me what's really bothering me. Be prepared that I will tell you the truth. And by the way, I'm working on presenting my truth in other ways instead of being mad.
14.) I'm much more reflective than you may realize. I'll take a conversation and think about it for weeks afterward. If we get involved in any sort of dealing that includes a great deal of emotion, know that I need space and time to process it all.
15.) I'm very literal. I don't speak cryptically or try to be an enigma. If I say it, I mean it. Take me at my word.
16.) My love language is spending time together. For me to know you care, make time for me. I promise that I'll learn your love language too.
17.) Try not to blindside me. I freak out when that happens. If it's unavoidable, try to understand that a freak out is on the horizon. I'll recover.
18.) If you want to help, believe in me.
19.) If you want to help, pray for me.
20.) If you want to help some more, hug me.

Lord, overflow my heart with your goodness, your joy, and your peace. Let your love reign in me.

p.s. The photo is the japanese symbol for manifesto. Google rocks!

My Life Is In Your Hands

2009-04-03T17:00:00.002-06:00

"My Life Is In Your Hands" Click on the link below before you read this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mUZI8qIkwE&feature=related

You don't have to worry, and you don't have to be afraid. Joy comes in the morning, troubles they don't last always. For there's a friend in Jesus, who will wipe your tears away. And if your heart is broken, just lift your hands and say:

Oh, I know that I can make it! I know that I can stand. No matter what may come my way, my life is in your hands. With Jesus I can take it, with Him I know that I can stand. No matter what may come my way, my life is in your hands.

So, when your tests and trials they seem to get you down. And all your friends and loved ones are no where to be found. Remember there's a friend in Jesus, who will wipe your tears away. And if your heart is broken, just lift your hands and say:

I so often forget whose embrace I remain in. My hope is in Jesus, my strength in the power of His name. Today, I can stand with my head held high - looking to the heavens, because I know who I am in Christ. Today, I am free - liberated by the grace of God. Today, I am renewed in the love of my Savior, who died so that I could live.

2009-02-27T00:07:00.001-07:00

The Norman's

2009-02-27T00:06:00.001-07:00

Get your own Family Sticker Maker & MySpace Layouts.

Further Still

2009-02-26T01:02:00.004-07:00

My goodness, I haven't posted in forever! So much has gone on the past few months, I hardly know where to begin. The learning never ends.

Today, Ash Wednesday, marks the beginning of the Lenten Season. I began to pray several days ago about what the Lord would have me do, or focus on. I believe the purpose of lent is for us as believers to identify more closely with Christ. It is a time for repentance, a deeper renewing of our minds in obedience to Jesus. Often, people give something up for lent, be it candy, coffee, alcohol, or other such things. I do think abstaining is a good thing, but beyond that, I feel that God calls us to action during this season. I asked "Lord, what can I do? How can I grow and where do I need to be more obedient to you?" In the depths of my heart, I knew what He wanted. I resisted at first, knowing that the call was to work through bitterness and anger toward a member of my family. My hope is that my obedience in this area is not for a season, but sets up behavior patterns that will remain the rest of my days.

My anger is deep and has invaded much of my heart. Being angry is so much easier than being hurt. That's really what this boils down to. This person has hurt me deeply. The rift it has caused in our family is big. I am not being included in family get togethers at her behest. Honestly, I just don't understand that part of it. I have my part to play in this, mind you. I know I'm not without fault. I tried around Thanksgiving, to repair this relationship and hit a dead end. What I know to be true, is that forgiveness sets me free. She is responsible for her own actions and I am responsible for mine. No longer do I wish to be enslaved to the yoke of bitterness. Candidly, I feel terribly disappointed in her. For much of my life, I looked up to this woman. She was godly in my eyes; a woman of faith, professing to be a follower of Christ. It is not my place to judge anyone's salvation, so I will not do so. However, I have received the grace and salvation of Christ. He has forgiven me of my sins. He didn't qualify that forgiveness, nor did He say that it only covered a portion of my wrong doings. His blood justified and sanctifies me continually, over all multitudes of sin. Why then, do we as humans, as believers, as women after God's heart, do this to one another? Why am I not good enough to be included in my own family? How is that she cannot move forward? Frankly, my sin (at least in my eyes) has not impacted her directly. I understand the disappointment she has in me. For heaven's sake, I have my own sense of disappointment in choices I've made. Every morning I look in the mirror, I stare the devil's bondage in the face. The moment my eyes open after I've blinked, I see the face of Jesus staring back at me, reminding my fragile heart that I never need go back to the place I came from.

During this season of Lent, I will daily seek the Lord. I will proactively work to let go of my anger, my frustration and in turn, ask for His deliverance. I don't know what this journey will look like. In many ways, I am excited by that. I love the surprises of our Lord, when He works in ways we did or could not imagine. The ashes on my forehead remind me that I will return to the dust from whence I came. In the meantime, all is not lost as I work to draw closer to the Lord. Repentance brings us peace. That peace goes hand in hand with the liberty of my soul. I pray that at the end of this 40 days, that my hope and life will be resurrected with Christ Jesus on Easter Sunday.

Rejoice and celebrate the journey with me. Above all, ask the Lord what you can do during the season of Lent to go further still with Him. He will not tarry to give you His word, His answer, His peace, and His everlasting love.

His Gaze

2008-12-07T19:16:00.003-07:00

I wish I had the energy to write prolifically tonight about all that is swirling in my head. Not going to happen. All I can say is that God is teaching me a lesson I am just so reluctant to permeate all of me. Do you ever have days where it's everything you can do just to cope? I am trying to discern God's will but recognize I'm so over thinking things. The voice of reason was my brother this afternoon, reminding that sometimes the journey isn't right or wrong, it's right or left. Often, I see things as black and white with no middle. What I am facing currently is definitely a circumstance of gray. God is asking me to give up what I consider most precious in my life and rely completely and utterly on Him.

I keep thinking about Peter as he walked out on the water, in the midst of the storm. While his gaze was fixed on Christ, he was given the ability to walk on the water, but when he looked away, gravity took hold and he began to sink. That's my prayer today. God, help me be like Peter in the continued gaze into your eyes. May I find the peace I desperately long for, may I know the joy that comes only in knowing you, and the freedom in giving up that which I hold dear in order to gain everything you have for me. Just now, Jesus, you know the depths of my heart, the hurts that want to run rampant in my soul, but I beg of you to be the only One in my gaze. May all else fall away to glimpse at your loving and tender face, to feel the warmth of your embrace that is the eternal balm for my humanness. Upon you, sweetest One, do I fix mine eyes.

Gentleness

2008-11-20T09:08:00.003-07:00

I often blog to share what I'm struggling with and what the Lord is teaching me. It has been my hope and prayer, with the growing number of people who follow this blog, that when you read it your head is nodding in relation. I laid in bed awake last night for awhile, thinking and praying. I have been keenly aware recently of how at peace I feel. What precipitated such peace? My surrender. As I looked back, I see that I resisted God and His leading, thus creating turmoil in my heart. My daily surrender has led me to let go of what I cannot control and seek God's wisdom in what I can. I can't begin to tell you how happy I am or the immense blessings that God has bestowed in my life.

I read Proverbs 15:1 this morning. Go read it. I will be seeing Kelly this morning. Without getting into massive details, he will be doing 18 months in community corrections. He is angry with me and in turn, his anger has spurred mine. Part of my lying awake last night centered around those circumstances. I woke up dreading having to talk to him. In my mind, I went through my rant and rave, plotting out what I might say. Well, after drudging downstairs, turning on the computer and staring at the daily scripture, God's voice was loud and clear. What my brother needs is gentility, not my anger. What purpose would it serve to lambaste him or take a position that might make him think I don't support him? It's hard for me to not act angry. Generally, my anger is a mask for deeper emotions. I often say "I'm not stubborn, I'm right." This really isn't time to be of that stance, is it?

God is faithful, is he not? His faithfulness continues in spite of our resistance. His love permeates in spite of our anger. His wisdom is available to all who seek it. Have a blessed day!

Love

2008-11-08T13:39:00.002-07:00

I have come to understand that strength, inner strength, comes from receiving love as much as it comes from giving. I think apart from the idea that I am a sinner and God forgives me, this is the greatest lesson I have ever learned. When you get it, it changes you. It changed me. God's love will never change us if we don't accept it.

It's taken me years to learn the lesson. Seasons of wandering off the path God intended for me, hating myself, and taking those around me into the vacuum of darkness. By all accounts and purposes, on the outside few would have known the inner turmoil raging in me. I was stamped and approved, singing my hymns on Sunday, spying the world around me and wondering if anyone else felt the same. The greatest lie I have ever had to contend with is that the universe revolves around me.

Was there a singular change that brought about my acceptance of God's grace and His unconditional love for me? I don't think so. I believe it was a series of moments great and small, starting as a teen working at a christian camp, through having my children and ultimately, hitting the bottom hard two years ago. The seed was planted at that camp as I watched others close to me see and know Christ. The seedling was grown as I marveled that my own children love me without thought or condition. I was changed forever when I awoke spiritually and emotionally after the ravage of addiction had taken hold of my soul. I heard the sound of chains breaking, the prison doors being demolished, and my heart made new with the ushering in of freedom. Beth Moore calls it breaking free. I broke free of the enemy's hold and ran into the arms of my Savior. I received His love and knew it was the truth of all truths. The voices that whispered to me in the dark were silenced when His love came in.

It's the simple things that change our lives.

The Rate of Inflation for Teeth

2008-10-24T20:26:00.004-06:00

Big news in the Norman House! Garrett lost his first tooth tonight. It's been loose forever and he has been so patient in waiting for it to be ready to come out (last night I nearly gagged during snuggle time when he kept wiggling it back and forth...you know that gritty sound...and up with dinner). Here's the down-low on the teeth.

Garrett: "Mom, is my tooth loose enough?"

Mom: "Let me see."

Garrett: wiggle, wiggle, gritty-gross sound.

Mom: "I'm gonna hurl homeslice if you don't stop that sound."

Garrett: "You're a drama queen Mom."

Mom: "Do you even know what a drama queen is?"

Garrett: "Of course, I'm 7 you know."

Mom: "Yes, I know."

Garrett: "Hey Mom? Is the tooth fairy a boy or a girl?"

Mom: "I don't know. What do you think?"

Garrett: "I think it's a girl. Boys can't be fairies."

Stifled laughter. I can barely contain myself...boys can't be fairies.

Side note: conversation with Papa ensues and the question is raised "Papa, how much did the tooth fairy leave you when you were a kid?

Papa: "Uh. Well, I was born in 1944..."

Mom: "Oh, here we go."

Papa: "I think it left me .50 cents or a dollar maybe. But then again you have to take into account inflation."

More stifled laughter. If you're a Republican, it's closer to .50 cents. If you're a Democrat, swing wide. Does anyone have Alan Greenspan on speed-dial?

Garrett: "Papa, the tooth fairy sounds like a cheap-skate."

Mom and Nana are looking at each other and mouthing nonsense to figure out how much cash we have between us.

Garrett: "Mom, you need to leave the tooth fairy a note to tell her to leave more than what Papa got in 1944. By the way, how long ago was 1944?"

Mom: "Closer to when dinosaurs walked the earth I think."

Garrett (out-loud): "I didn't know you could be that old."

Snickering Mother can only utter "He remembers the discovery of oil."

Garrett: "Will the tooth fairy come when a kid is this excited?"

Mom: "YES! And the tooth fairy is so happy you lost your tooth (he's the last kid in his class by the way). Just imagine, she's out there flying around, just waiting for you to fall asleep so she can work her magic."

Garrett: "I hope her magic is more than a dollar."

My son, the future Economics major and his in-debt Mom trying to figure inflation, the cost of a first tooth, supply and demand. Nana and I agreed to two dollars, allowing us room for expansion at a later date.

Moonless Seas

2008-10-23T17:16:00.004-06:00

One simple word seems to sum my existence right now - tired. I got pneumonia right after my glorious nose surgery (and no, for the many who have asked I did not get a nose job. In fact, I had a pretty perfect nose to say the least. I can't say if it will be the same ever again, just wiping it bring tears to my eyes), and it has made a comeback in the past few days. While it's not serious by any means, my body is simply worn out. I made it to about 8:30 last night and was in bed before CSI was on. Another reason I praise God for On Demand. The marvels of modern technology!

Anyway, my tired state in part is due to the emotional roller-coaster I've been living on. My Mom has put her house on the market and her immanent departure back to Seattle is on the compass. Admittedly, I am scared that indeed she will return to Washington. While my Mom and I have had our issues, she's my Mom and her leaving would put me in Colorado alone. I can barely go there - this is a big issue that also involves Garrett, so my heartstrings have been pulled and my hands are in the air. While a relatively familiar position, it remains uncomfortable. It seems that often I'd rather be carrying an arm full of stones, than wait on God. Like I mentioned the other day, waiting appears to be exactly where He desires for me to be. It feels like I've taken my hands off the steering wheel (which anyone knowing me would say that's a good thing) and I'm going mach-90 with my hair on fire. While it may be amusing for some to watch, to me I feel like I'm living on the brink, so to speak.

My brother is safe, praise God, but he is clearly not okay. I am sad about this, as over the past several years, it seems that I'm the only one able to reach parts of his heart. Even then, I have sensed there a large territory that only God can navigate. I feel helpless and wish more than I can describe, that I could shoulder the burden. By every account, my brother is my very best friend and understands parts of me that no other has been able to. I believe, well I know, this is mutual. Perhaps it's because we're siblings, raised in the same house under the same rules, or because our demons are not that different. All in all, I think it's the sum total of all things and that comprehension brings with it relation that few are in the company of. I'm relieved he is safe, but the torment of his emotions is obvious to me and to watch that ship get tossed about on the high seas is almost unbearable. Is this Christ giving me a watchful eye on what has been His portion over the years and His torment in watching me toss about? I remember years ago being taught a lesson about navigating on moonless seas (thank you Elisabeth Elliot and her incredible perception). Some days the compass works, we feel one with our creator and all is in harmony. Other days, the sea's are moonless, the way dark, and we feel alone. No matter the condition, God remains by our side and even in the darkness, we are never alone. Sometime, I think, He breaks our compass so we turn to face the wind, arms raised in the air, so that the Great Navigator can take hold of the wheel, right our direction and bring us out of the White Squall. Praise life in the dinghy.

Well, life beckons and the microwave just beeped for a gourmet meal. Until my compass turns, I remain watchful of the horizon and hopeful that not all is lost.

Why I Get Angry

2008-10-21T17:23:00.002-06:00

Wow, life has been happening fast. I feel heavy-hearted tonight for a lot of reasons. My brother went back out this weekend and showed up today. I feel sad for him, and even a bit of anger, however, I know the darkness well that pulls him. Sometimes looking at him is like looking in a mirror. Got to love that.

I'm in the midst of the process of military acceptance. We have a few medical things to clear up. If those are accepted, then I'm in. Holy buckets. I think it's a really good thing on so many levels. It will be hard. I am frustrated by how long the process takes. I'd rather be done with it and know one way for certain. God is keeping me waiting really. Waiting on Him. I'm not very good with that. I wish I could say that patience was my strong suit. Yeah, not happening.

I read a really interesting part of the book I mentioned earlier Blue Like Jazz. "Why I get angry when I go to church. It doesn't do any good to bash churches, so I am not making blanket statements against the church as a whole. I have only been involved in a few churches, but I had the same tension with each of them; that's the only reason I bring it up. Here are the things I didn't like about churches I went to. First: I felt like people were trying to sell me Jesus. I was a salesman for a while, and we were taught that you are supposed to point out all the benefits of a product when you are selling it. That is how I felt about some of the preachers I heard speak. They were always pointing out the benefits of Christian faith. That rubbed me wrong. It's not that there aren't benefits, there are, but did they have to talk about spirituality like it's a vacuum cleaner? I never felt like Jesus was a product. I wanted Him to be a person. Not only that, but they were always pointing out how great the specific church was. The bulletin read like a brochure for Amway. There always saying how life-changing some conference was going to be. Life-changing? What does that mean? It sounded very suspicious. I wish they would just tell it to me straight rather than trying to sell me on everything. I felt like I was bombarded with commercials all week and then went to church on Sunday and got even more. And yet another thing about the churches I went to: They seemed to be parrots for the Republican Party. Do we have to tow the party line on every single issue? Are the Republicans that perfect? I felt like, in order to be part of the family, I had to think George W. Bush was Jesus. And I didn't. I didn't think that Jesus really agreed with a lot of the policies of the Republican Party or for that matter the Democratic Party. I felt like Jesus was a religious figure, not a political figure. I heard my pastor say once, when there were only a few of us standing around, that hated Bill Clinton. I can understand not liking Clinton's policies, but I want my spirituality to rid me of hate, not give me more reason for it. I couldn't deal with that. That is the main reason I walked away. I felt like, by going to this particular church, I was a pawn for the Republicans. Meanwhile, the Republicans did not give a crap about the causes of Christ....The truth is we are supposed to LOVE the hippies, the liberals, and even the democrats, and that God wants us to think of them as more important than ourselves. Anything short of this is not true to the teachings of the gospels." The author goes and and at the end of the chapter I sighed in relief. Not relief that the reading was over, but that another human being put into words my exact feelings. This author speaks to the truth and power of the gospels and how by-in-large we as Christians just don't get it. He challenged himself to do what the gospels say: feed the hungry, shelter those without homes and befriend on a sincere level, those that society finds less-lovable. How this simple practice changed his life. I have to admit, I want to do the same thing. The issue for me is that while I have passion for Christ (he likens passion to pouring gasoline in a tank for a car with no wheels...it's belief in action that makes changes), if I were totally honest everyday I act like I am the most important person in the universe. I live out my true beliefs. Whooooo. Praise God that He changes us and Praise God that I finally found the sense to ask for the right kinds of changes.

Anyway, that's my bit for today. I feel like I've been hit by a bus. I got pneumonia right after the nose surgery and think it has not entirely resolved. I am so exhausted and my chest feels like someone is crushing it. Comfy.
Blessings to all!

Faith is the first step...

2008-10-08T10:25:00.002-06:00

"By His divine power, God has given us everything we need for living a godly life. We have received all of this by coming to know Him, the One who called us to himself by means of his marvelous glory and excellence." II Peter 1:3

Everyday I receive an e-mail with the daily encouraging word from KLOVE. If you don't get it, I highly recommend you visit their website and sign up. It's made a huge difference in my life and has grown my hunger for God's word. This particular scripture really struck me. Honestly, I've been having a bit of a pity party for myself and when I read that God has already given me everything I need to live a godly life, I almost passed out. I kept thinking "How could you have given me everything I need for this? I feel lacking in so many areas. God, what am I missing?" I do believe that I'm one of those people who prays and God answers quickly and in such a way that I generally know it's Him. This is no exception. "Beloved, do you remember when you came to know me all those years ago? Do you recall the change in your heart - even now, I'm taking out the stony heart and replacing it with one of tenderness and passion for me. Do you have your own Damascus experience and have forgotten the power I demonstrated to bring you unto me?" No Lord, I haven't forgotten, I've just let it's power diminish and put you in the corner for awhile. My Damascus experience wasn't when I was a little girl. I came to know Christ at a very young age in my bathtub. It wasn't because of what I heard in Sunday school or what the cool kids were doing. Truly, God's voice spoke to me and I knew then that I was meant to be His. However, my Damascus experience has been over the past 18 months or so. Martin Luther King once said that faith is taking the first step, even when we can't see the entire staircase. I have to agree and say that I'm not sure I've ever seen the whole staircase, nor would God want me to as it would lessen my reliance on Him.

In Paul's conversion moments, I wonder if he thought that life would be okay down the road. He knew he had been changed, he knew he wanted to share that change with anyone he could. But in his heart, was there peace, was there a confidence in God's sovereignty and provisions for his life? Perhaps this is exactly why Paul spent time alone and in the quiet shortly after his conversion. God asked him to study His word and quiet himself. In that time, I believe all that Paul needed to live a godly life was given abundantly to him. Why should I be any different?

My sponsor called me last night and we finally had a chance to talk about the craziness that I call my life. She made a very simple yet profound statement that reached a dark place in my heart. "Lisa, you will be okay. God will take care of you." When I speak of that dark place, I think everyone has it. Some may live their lives with it never really awakened. For me, active addiction was the dark place lashing out. Many times I wanted to die, for the misery that was my life to simply end. Today, I am able to say that I wish to live - and for a purpose that entails a great deal. I actually believe I will be okay and that God is God. He will take care of me simply because of his marvelous glory and excellence. He loves me. I am His child, His beloved, the cry of His heart. My Damascus experience is teaching me that indeed God is my beloved, the passion of my life and the reason I open my eyes everyday. What is happening around and in me is truly for HIS glory. Yes, my character grows as a result of it, but really, it's to demonstrate the power of God. It amazes me that He chose me, He called me by name, He knows my every step.

Fairest God, my faith is small and my heart fragile, but I believe you have indeed given me all that is required to live a godly life. Just for today, empower me to live in such a manner as to please you and delight your heart. For in your delight is my delight. In your love, I have found the greatest love of my own.

Conflicted

2008-10-07T11:08:00.003-06:00

To say I've been remiss in writing is a bit of an understatement. Yes, life has been happening (much to my dismay most days), mixed with a little drama and a whole lot of change. The result, blogging has been low on the priority list. In part, much of what has been happening in my head and heart has been too much to verbalize in any sort of manner that would not only make sense, but even be relateable to those of you who faithfully read this blog.

I was resentful for a period of time over some circumstances, but now am coming out the other side, able to own my part and deflect the crap of others for them to deal with on their own. Deflecting has been a big problem for me. Perhaps it's this crazy idea that not only do I have to be right, I have to make my truth heard by everyone within earshot. Without getting into major specifics (breaching the confidentiality of others), I found myself without a job and the place I was staying at turned out to be not entirely the best for all of us. For those of you who don't know, I did have to have surgery mid-September and my jackass doctor thought putting me on major meds was a good idea. My part - I didn't say no and "what have you been smoking that makes you think I should EVER take the particular medication that has led me down the path of self destruction?" Instead, I filled the prescription but did give it to someone else to dispense to me. I was accused of abusing them, which I did not, but recognize that my head was in total active addiction. Being a perfectionist on all fronts, I was devastated. What I realize in hindsight is that I was incredibly depressed prior to this and instead of seeing that and taking action, I did what is natural to me - I isolated and hid out wherever I could. The cost was huge. Last week I had to really feel my emotions, justified or not, and let them be what they were. It was hard and Kleenex made a lot of money off me! I feel so much more motivated today to change some BIG things in my life and even am starting to feel gratitude for the events of the past 8 weeks. Never thought that would come out of my mouth. And as an FYI, I'm not taking meds now. I came off of them and realize that I can never go down that path again, surgery or not.

God has been ever faithful, and a long-time friend is letting me crash at her place. She's one of those friends that you can not talk to for weeks at a time, yet when you get together you pick up right where you left off. She is also the least judgemental person I've ever known and she just takes me where I'm at. The other great thing about her is that she has boundaries and sticks to them. I don't feel enabled in anyway, and in fact have some discomfort (not related to my relationship to her, but really the circumstances I now find myself in), which I've decided for me is a fantastic motivator. Amazing how God works, and His workings are specific to each of us. Anyway, I feel blessed that she is so willing to help. I also feel blessed to have spent a few days just hanging out with a good friend. What I really love about our relationship is that I don't feel like I have to be a certain way, or the good christian, or whatever. I'm just Lisa and that's good enough. Yes, the spiritual parallel behind that is massive and I get it.

I'm looking at a really big decision for my life right now. I've toyed with an idea for several months, but the change would be crazy bordering on upside down, but the benefit is that it provides long-term stability, amongst other things. I can be a disciplined person and can be submissive, but it's been a long time since I've had to be that way. This choice would force me in a short period of time to be both. One of my concerns is that it would involve moving from place to place (if you haven't figured this out I'm thinking of joining the military) and that would uproot Garrett. How do I manage being a single parent with a child who has special needs and advance career-wise? I've talked with my Mom about it and she actually supports the idea. Initially, Garrett would remain with her until I was settled and knew what was coming. And she expressed that if I had to go overseas, of course she would take care of him. That's a relief. I think what scares me most is the initial part of joining the military...getting up at the crack of dawn, 3 minutes to shower, and really being in great physical shape. I'm a fairly athletic person, but honestly, I've sat on my butt for awhile now! I imagine I would need a few weeks before basic training to get my body back into the swing of the physical demands I know will be required. I feel a bit confused. The unemployment rate in Colorado is high and finding a job is difficult. In the short-term I could wait tables or work at Starbucks, and look for a "real" job in the meantime. But even in a few months, where does that put me? Renting a room from someone, not being able to provide for Garrett the way I think he should be provided for, yet still steps ahead of where I am now. Does this make any sense to anyone? If you're reading this and have thoughts, please give me feedback.

I'm really trying to be the woman I know God wants me to be. I've also realized that mistakes are a part of the process. If I live in them, I become paralyzed and change doesn't happen. When I see the part of Lisa that is exactly what God desires, I feel exhilarated, excited that His work is shining through me. I've gotten over if others see it or not. I was enslaved to that way of thinking for 30 years. It mattered beyond measure what others thought of me...do they like me, am I good enough, would someone love me just because? It feels like I've shed that unhealthy mindset and now am working on the self-acceptance piece and really don't give a rip of you like me or not. What matters is that God is pleased with my heart and actions and that I can love who I am (with all my character defects included). It's pretty liberating to say the least.

I could keep writing, but Garrett is home sick today and asking me for a snack. Motherhood beckons and snuggle time is around the corner. Can I just say that having my son tell me how much he loves me, that I'm the best Mom and his best friend is the best balm for my hurts? Sometimes I feel like his love is God tangibly showing me the spiritual love He has for me. Too cool.

Lisa Needs...

2008-08-30T14:47:00.004-06:00

Okay, so my friend Heather (who is a regular blogger too) did this "needs" gig for a post not long ago. You go to the Google website, enter your name and then enter the word "needs" after it. You list the first 10 responses that come up. I nearly wet my pants from laughing so hard when I read mine. Here they are...

1. Lisa needs braces. I spent three years in those dang things. Yes three years, but that's because I skipped appointments all the time. Did I mention that I didn't wear my retainer after I got my braces off? My teeth shifted on the bottom and guess what, I need braces again! Who knew prophecy could appear on Google.
2. Lisa needs new concealer. Dude, I just bought new concealer and I'm allergic to it.
3. Lisa needs a new house. No sh** Sherlock. Although, one could derive a spiritual message from this. Not long ago I did need a new home and God provided a great one.
4. Lisa needs to be on "Big Brother." Right. I need that I like I need a hole in my head. I thought reality TV was a thing of the past. Apparently not.
5. Lisa needs to get a life. I can't respond to this.
6. Lisa needs new underwear. Did you know there is a lingerie designer named Lisa Norman?
7. Lisa needs to be useful, not popular. Can't I be both?
8. Lisa needs a personal chef. This directly relates to the 9th Lisa need...
9. Lisa needs to get back in skinny jeans. Need I say more?
10. Lisa needs to get drop kicked into this century. I'm a Norman, what can I say. My father still uses a wind-up clock because digital confuses him AND he still uses VHS. At least I am further along than that!

My personal favorite "need" is the skinny jeans. If I could just cease my addiction to ice-cream, chocolate, and Chick-Fil-A, I would be on my way.

Growing and growing

2008-08-28T17:42:00.003-06:00

So, my return to choir wasn't well received by the choir-director. I can't even begin to tell you the emotion that's caused, along with some minor brain damage in thinking about it so much. Bottomline, God's will isn't black and white is it? Maybe it really is time to move on to a different church and begin anew. I think there is too much history there. Anyone in recovery knows and understands that our amend process involves protecting ourselves too. Totally there. I'm digging the self-preservation piece right now.

I'm not a perfect person and this past year I've certainly made my share of mistakes. I've really tried to own my stuff, seek forgiveness when I need to, offer and accept grace on a daily basis and just grow up. There is one relationship in my life particularly that has been unable to move forward. It's very disappointing and terribly hurtful for both of us. It didn't occur to me that perhaps the relationship could never recover. I feel (feel being the foundation of the following sentence) that no matter what I do, this person will always keep my past hanging over me. I've been accused of things that I didn't do and frankly, don't understand where this person's information is coming from. They sure as hell aren't talking to me, which just aggrivates the hell out of me. I've spent enough time being the bad guy. If that's all I'll ever be known as by this person, well then, move the f*ck on. Can you sense my anger? I'm tired of trying to be understood, I'm tired of hoping for this person's forgiveness and trust. By the way, I get that trust is earned. But it can never be restored if there is no opportunity given by the other party to restore it. What is so ambigious to me right now is where do you draw the line? When is enough, enough? This is one of those moments that I wish God used neon signs in my life. I'd really like to see one that flashes brightly and directs me one way or the other! I know Lord, a lot to ask.

I'm starting a Beth Moore bible study this next week and eager to see what God has in store. The past month has been pretty amazing overall. I continually step back and stand in awe at what God has been doing for me. What I love so much, or really have come to appreciate, is that His work hasn't been easy. I finally got off my butt and started living. It's been scary. My good friend (who happens to be my boss) has had to endure me crying a lot! God's blessings are abundant are they not? You know what I would really love? Many of my reader's e-mail me and have positive things to say. They encourage me regularly and pray continually. I would love for you guys to respond to this post via a comment or e-mail me, and share what God is doing in your life. How is He working, how is He showing himself? I think it would be a huge encouragement for us all.

"And I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart."
~ Ezekiel 36:26, NLT

Blue Like Jazz

2008-08-25T12:21:00.003-06:00

"I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes. After that, I liked jazz. Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way..." Donald Miller Blue Like Jazz

A friend lent me the above book and this is the preface quote from the author. Obviously, it struck a note. I've said before that I've been a christian most of my life but feel as though the journey of faith began 18 months ago. I went to church this weekend. For those who don't know, I have been praying about finding a new church. The wake left behind as a result of my addiction ravaged many relationships within my church family. The pain on all sides has been tremendous. I wanted to leave, start over and begin anew. Deep in my heart, God was saying that leaving, while easy and convenient, was the cowardly thing to do. I told the Lord recently that I would be willing to do whatever He asked - willing to obey even if I didn't want to. I was put to the test. Everyday my devotions have spoken specifically to the issue of redemption, forgiveness, and the commitment to relationships within my life. I knew what God was asking me to do: stay Lisa, stay.

Last year I intended to return to choir. I thought I was ready and sat down with a number of friends explaining my journey of addiction, God's working and my desire to mend those relationships. In retrospect, I wasn't ready. While my apology was sincere, as was my desire to return to the flock, I had a great deal of growing to do. As is usual for me, I took on too much, too fast. Over this past year, the Lord has taught me about sustaining relationships that mean something. I have to be honest, to return to choir meant facing my fear. It meant facing the hurts of others and I wanted to run away. Yesterday morning, I stood in the choir loft amongst my family, worshiped Jesus and have never felt so right about something. It's time. I'm still growing and will be for the remainder of my days. Last year I felt so much shame - not now. I do not believe that our God is a God of shame. I can't begin to tell you the joy I experienced yesterday morning, as I stood there, not to be recognized, not to be seen by others or gain their acceptance. I stood there to show my love for Jesus, to serve Him, and to walk what He has been graciously teaching me.

Obedience is hard isn't it? Here is what I know to be true today. The act of obedience can pull our hearts in many directions, but the end result is that I grow closer to Christ. I learn and love His heart. I see His passion for me, His desire to see me become the woman He destined me to be. I feel like I'm starting to get it. I am willing to experience fear, pain, uncertainty head-on because I know who stands with me...it's not just 250 other people worshiping God, it is the Great I Am himself. How blessed I am to be loved. The magnitude of sacrifice displayed on the cross means something totally different to me today. He died for ME. His blood provided me salvation, provides me with hope. His blood has given me eternity. He has given me everything.

Christian Dior vs. Aveda

2008-08-23T09:45:00.003-06:00

I've been a bit remiss in writing this past month. Life is insanely busy, but in a good way. God provided a catalyst for change that was uncomfortable, but in retrospect, totally necessary and I'm seeing the blessings even now. I'm loving my new job, although it takes me out of my comfort zone and into something new. You know how I am. I like to think I know most things. Well, in this industry my knowledge is limited and I find that frustrating sometimes. I do like the learning curve and I think everyday my abilities grow and grow. The other day a good friend of mine cut my hair. She said as we were finishing up, that she could see something changing in me for God's glory. I think I walked on the clouds the rest of the day. It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with God's power in my life. Most of the time, I have to just get out of my own way.

I'm in a safe place now and many feelings that I've been putting off are coming to the surface. I don't feel quite so ill-prepared, nor do I feel the enormous fear I felt even a month and a half ago. Grief has been a big one as of late. I think that grief is cleansing, but I have to tell you, it hurts like a mo-fo. God's been good to me again and again. Lately, he's been providing friends with similar beliefs and and a sense of humor that puts Richard Pryor to shame. I haven't laughed this much in ages! It's really adding to the lines around my eyes. Dude, I had to start investing in eye-cream and I don't mean the Walgreen's whatever is on clearance stuff. Hello Aveda. Hello Christian Dior. It helps, but the sudden awareness of aging is quite alarming. I pray that I'll have the glorious skin my Mom does. She kept Christian Dior in business for a long time!

Can I just mention I can't decide if the makers of Playstation should either receive a Nobel Prize or be knocked silly. I can hear three kids in the other room all fighting over who's winning, who's losing, and who basically has no skills about the game. This is all quickly followed by rousing cheers, hoops and hollers and laughter. I'm afraid to go in there. Yikes Batman.

I really have nothing profound to say today. I think my brain is on overload and I can't urp up any spiritual, funny or worthwhile comments! I'm still alive for those of you faithful in asking and yes, life has improved beyond my imagination. Thanks to all of you who have stood by me through all of this. You'll never understand what that has meant to me. Life changing is all I can say.

Obrigado (gratefulness)

2008-07-28T14:08:00.005-06:00

I have the coolest thing ever to share! As many of you know I've been staying with my Mom. As with most family relationships I think we fell into old patterns and for me, one of my greatest character defects of entitlement reared it's ugly little head...a lot. On Friday morning, she came into my room at 9:30 a.m. and said she could no longer live with me and that I had to get out NOW. I was totally dismayed, ticked off like you couldn't imagine and so enraged. I began packing my things, which was a disaster by the way and was gone within a little over an hour. I have to be honest and say I wanted to get high so bad I could hardly see straight. Praise God I didn't, it truly was because of God's grace. Anyway, I drove around aimlessly, crying, screaming, you name it. I don't have a cell phone, so I couldn't call anyone. I finally decided that I would have to sleep in my car and figure things out on Saturday. I drove to our church (and if you attend my church and are reading this, don't you dare tell anyone I did this) and parked in the back of the lot, crawled in the backseat and tried to sleep. Of course, I didn't get a wink, but decided I would go back to my Mom's the next day, ask to use the phone and take a shower. I showed up and she agreed to let me do that. My brother got on the Internet and tried to find emergency shelters and such. Okay, can I just add here that all two of them in the state of Colorado were closed until Monday. What do they think, people don't end up homeless on the weekends? For the love.

I made a few phone calls, and got a hold of two people. One, a dear friend, lives in Arkansas so me crashing on her couch wasn't a reality. She spoke the truth I needed to hear, which was that nothing at this point was beneath me and it was time to get off my a** and make things happen. I've been wallowing in self-pity for awhile in case you didn't know. We prayed together, I cried a lot and she just loved on me. She told me the two most immediate things I needed to do were to find a safe place to lay my head and get a freakin' job. The next phone call was to another friend from our church choir. She and her husband were literally walking out the door. I gave her the Reader's Digest version of what was happening and she said I could come stay for the weekend. They live up in the mountains in the most amazing house you've ever been in. It's called Selah Place, which means to pause and reflect. She asked me if I wanted to go to church on Sunday and then to a picnic. I said no to church, didn't really want to go to the picnic but said yes. We sat out on the porch and talked endlessly and again, she spoke God's truth which I so needed to hear.

Before I left my Mom's house on Saturday I sent out an e-mail to three or four friends from church asking for help. What you have to know is that during my active addiction, I hurt these people immensely. I have avoided my relationships with them out of fear (this is totally my issue and not theirs). I felt bad for sending out this e-mail but didn't know what else to do. I knew I had until today to find a place to sleep. Camping out in my car and peeing on public property is really no way to live. Back to the picnic part...

My friend T and I pull into the park for the picnic and in my heart I'm hating it. She mentions that it was a choir picnic and suddenly I felt better knowing I would see many friends who have stood by my side through more than anyone should ever have to. Truly, within 15-20 minutes a long time friend came up to me and said "So, how would you feel about staying with us AND I have a job I think you would be perfect for." She was one of the people I sent the e-mail to, but again was afraid I'd hurt her too much that her help wasn't an option. This was truly one of those situations I was glad to be so wrong!

I believe with my whole heart that when I prayed to God "Lord, I am willing to anything at this point. Yes, nothing is beneath me and yes, I haven't been focused entirely on you, but please, provide a way." His response was "My beloved child, I have been waiting for you to say that. What I will keep beneath you is a pillow in a house with a christian family. What I will keep beneath you is the strength of my wind to bring you through this storm. What I will keep within you is my never ending love. Wait and see what I have in store, wait and see my love how I will bless you." Never in my 31 years has the Lord provided a way so quickly. He's been so faithful to me time and time again, but I have continued to take it for granted. I think the journey of recovery has helped me so much in just being grateful. I can tell you, my faith has been small as of late and my doubt big.

God, you promised that if my faith was as small as a mustard seed you would move mountains for me. The mountain you just moved seemed insurmountable, impossible, and beyond what I thought you would do. I long to be a light in a dark place, to glorify you, to love you more and give you my best. Thank you for giving me yet another chance to do just that. Help me be the godly woman you desire, one full of gratefulness, full of joy and a countenance that reflects only you. Jesus, you truly are the one and only.

Obrigado dear Lord, obrigado (that's portuguese for gratefulness by the way).

Healing Captive

2008-07-16T17:53:00.002-06:00

"O, God, who frees the captive, do not liberate this carnal slave for freedom's sake. For I will surely wing my flight to another thorny land. Break, instead, each evil bond and rub my swollen wrists, then take me prisoner to your will - enslaved in your safekeeping. O, God, who ushers light into the darkness, do not release me to the light only to see myself. Cast the light of my liberation upon your face and be thou my vision. Do not hand me over to the quest of greater knowledge. Make your word a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. O, God, who lifts the grieving head, blow away the ashes but let your gentle hand be upon my brow. Be my only crown of beauty. Comfort me so deeply, my Healer, that I seek no other comfort. O, God, who loves the human soul too much to let it go, so thoroughly impose yourself into the heaps and depths of my life that nothing remains undisturbed. Plow this life, Lord, until everything you overturn becomes a fertile soil. Then plant me O God, in the vast plain of your love. Grow me, strengthen me, and do not lift your pressing hand until it can boastfully unveil a display of your splendor."

These words have been my life song for over a year now. I can say with profound certainty that my God kept his promise to grow me and strengthen me. He has reminded me of promises he made and that for many, it is time for them to come to fruition. Not all of them are happening in the manner I envisioned, but nonetheless, God and I are going further still to reach them. I love the picture of God's hand gently pressing my brow, bringing me comfort and still, breathing life into a masterpiece. His touch entails so much.

Just for today, I will feel the warmth of God's embrace and know that I am a display of His splendor.

PRESTON!

2008-07-11T18:12:00.002-06:00

My friend, it was good to hear from you. When you reply to a post on the blog, it goes through a modification. I am able to reject or publish, so your comments may become public. I would like to find out where you are, as I have searched to no avail. Please, if you're reading this, leave a comment with your current contact information. I will read it and then reject the comment, so as to leave your personal information between us. I will always love you too, and no, you weren't a dipshit, we were just young. I'd love to catch up. Give your family my love. Look forward to hearing from you.
Lisa

Thanks Mr. President

2008-07-08T21:22:00.005-06:00

"Gee, thanks for the autographed baseball Mr. President. I'll sell it on E-Bay and use the money to buy gas to get to my little league games."

My Prayer

2008-07-08T19:43:00.004-06:00

First, I want to express my gratitude about something. This past week, I've received a number of e-mails, both personal and private, from friends reminding me of their love, their pride over my growth, and general well-wishes. It's hard to see change when you're the one changing, so the outside perspective has been a tremendous encouragement and frankly, God's voice communicating audibly. I have been fortunate in my life to have some close and intimate friendships, all of whom have made me a better person, all of whom taught me something unique. So, to you my friends, thank you for hanging in there. And to you, my dear God, my cup overflows again and again.

My mind feels like a toll road these days. Lots of passing thoughts, heartstrings being pulled this way and that, emotions rising to the surface. I feel a sense of connectedness to myself and to what God brings up. Some things I have to put back on the shelf for the time being, while other things I am so much better equipped to handle. Many relationships within my family are sitting on the shelf. I feel fear around confronting my own anger and hurt. This is a primary feeling related to my Dad. He's computer illiterate, so I don't worry about him finding my blog! He can't even set a digital clock! It's actually a part of him I find endearing. Anyway, several months ago he and I had our own OK Corral-Tombstone type experience...we just weren't on the same side. I said things that were down right appalling and insensitive. I was heartless and didn't express any measure of gratefulness for all my father has provided for me. I can't say that growing up with this man was easy, fair, or without abuse. My Dad, for reasons still inexplicable to me, has never been able to fully own his past actions. While I ranted that I had moved on, forgiven him and no longer focused on the past, I continued to lie to myself. Deep down I was resentful and my fury raged just below the surface. An event with my son a number of months ago, triggered my anger and sent me over the edge.

Let me paint a picture for you. I grew up in a christian home, divided, but christian. My Mom strove to please God, please others, and love both my brother and I for the both of them. My Dad, a policeman, was a wonderful provider, but emotionally distant from his children. His anger tormented much of my childhood. That being said, I am blessed to have been given many of their individual strengths (weaknesses too). My Mom is tenderhearted, wickedly smart, and faithful. My Dad too is equally intelligent, quick witted, has a passion for words and their composition and loyal to the end. Even in the heat of the moment, I never cussed at my parents...sometimes in front of them, never to them. Well, that went down in flames at the OK-Corral. I let them both have it, my Dad bearing the brunt. He hung up on me, which just furthered my incensed state. Ladies, envision the scene from the movie "Divine Secrets Of The Ya-Ya Sisterhood" where Sidda and her Scarlett O'Hara-like mother are slamming the phone down on one another, screaming, yelling and certain all the fault lied within the other person. That was us. Since that conversation my father and I have spoken only once. It's been six months. Shortly after our argument, I learned he had congestive heart failure and was in the operating room having a quadruple bypass surgery. I wanted to take it all back. I wanted to be the daughter he longed for. I wanted to help, to fix it, and make the hurting stop. None of that happened and while my longing was there, I was simply unable to apply it.

My Dad called my Mom's house this weekend (I'm staying with her short-term). You must know, he's been the best grandpa you can imagine to my kids, especially Garrett. He phoned to talk to him. It happened that my Mom, Garrett, Kelly (my older brother) and I were all fat and happy on the couch. My Mom says to him that I'm there...dead silence (he's on speaker phone). You could taste the tension. My Dad worked his way around the family and spoke with them all, but, he would not speak to me. After he hung up, my Mom shared that his health is poor again. I said out loud "Dad could die and our relationship may never be healed." What is startling about this is that my father could live with that. He's so angry and bearing this grudge, that passing into the afterlife without making peace is reasonable. I want to puke when I think about that. So much has come into perspective. My Dad doesn't get high marks for his fathering skills, but I don't get them either in many of my past behaviors. The degrees of separation between us are really small. I let him financially support me as a way of making him pay. That was my punishment so to speak. I thought "fine, you'll never say you're sorry or admit what you did. You can pay financial penance to me." When I first realized what I was doing, I chalked it up to addict behavior. I was embarrassed and yet, glad I'd realized my part. Real change begins when we own up to our stuff. I moved on from there to realize my Dad will likely never change. I can either accept that or not. Either way, I ought never be prevented from my own change.

My heart hurts in the silence. I don't know what to say to make it better, help him see the changes in me. I don't know how we can or will move past this. I can't bear the thought of losing him and him not knowing how much I love and respect him. I feel so sorry for my part. Making amends is part of the process, living our amends goes on for a lifetime. My prayer today is that time not slip past, that my pride dissipate, and peace be found.

The healing balm of Gilead is a part of my life today. I pray that the balm be soothing to the hurt for my Dad and I.

Try

2008-07-01T11:05:00.004-06:00

"We recognize the need for change. Our disease involved much more than using drugs, so our recovery must involve much more than simple abstinence. Recovery is an active change in our ideas and attitudes." Basic Text, pp 53

When I first got clean, I didn't recognize the need for change. My family did. My friends did. In fact, I think everyone around me recognized how close I was to death and that something had to give. Otherwise, they would all be attending a wake. I don't mean to be melodramatic, but truly, that's where I was. I rarely share about what it took to get the process of recovery started. I'm not ashamed of it (I think it's a common story), I just don't talk about it much. One night, I overdosed. I remember nothing. My Mom has replayed the story again and again and it's frightening. I woke up, naked on a hospital bed with an IV sticking out of me neck and Nurse Ratchett coming at me with this nasty black solution. I don't recall the doctor or nurse being particularly loving. I can't imagine that I was a nice person either. Next step, the Whack Shack. It took forever (19 days) to detox and it was the most miserable time of my life. God gave me the presence of mind during this time to recognize the matter was life or death and today, I was being given a choice. He opened the doors for a treatment center and the rest of my life began. Deep down, I thought treatment would cure me. After all, who spends that kind of money to gain nothing? I was a "perfect" student, completed all my assignments on time, participated in groups, even went to aftercare. I left after three months and felt like a fish out of water. I bounced around from fellowship to fellowship. During rehab, we took the druggie buggy to this NA meeting. I hated it. The people were nuts and certainly didn't fit into my suburban lifestyle (frankly, they scared the poo out of me). The message was "do or die MotherF*****) and that's not my style. Anyway, I vowed never to return. During what I consider my alien period, guess where I ended up? Guess which group became my home group? Ha!

It was in that small, stuffy room that God revealed that my problem really wasn't about the drugs. It was so much more. I was spiritually bankrupt. This rocked my world. I've always gone to church, had a heart for God, and practiced my spirituality in a religious way. This furthered my shame (at the time I believed you couldn't be a christian and an addict at the same time. See a few previous posts, the cleft in my mind was vast...good thing God is bigger). I knew that all this provided a false sense of security and that I had let my broken relationship with a Higher Power (who I believed to be punitive and plain pissed off at me for being so imperfect) only tap into the surface of my life. This was my huge recognition for real change (or at least the start of it. The subject of reservations kicked my ass later on and provided yet another catalyst for change). I believe this is where God stepped in and helped me begin to change what I believed about Him and what I believed about myself.

Today, and everyday I'm able, I ask myself what lies I'm telling myself. Sometimes it's that I'm not pretty enough, skinny enough, able enough, or that not paying my bills will result in zero consequences. When I see those lies for what they really are, I can change - or better yet, try. I haven't become spiritual overnight, or found some secret to unlock the mystery of God. I just try to cultivate a relationship with Him that works for me. It's based on grace, prayer, and the belief that He always has my best interest at heart. Some days are better than others. Some days I feel connected and in harmony, other days, well, I don't.

So, what can I do? For starters, beware of riding the high horse or I'll be swimming in manure before my next breath. I can share, I can listen, I can try.

A little Gratitude

2008-06-27T22:20:00.002-06:00

I don't have anything profound to say, except that my family (well, Kelly, Mom and Garrett) are all here. We'll be spending the weekend together having a great time. I was all stressed out about some ridiculous crap over the week, particularly today. My doctor called to bitch me out regarding a situation she has no business saying anything but "Are you okay? How can we help." Or "sorry, that must have sucked." She felt compulsed to drone on and on about a subject she's clueless about. Anyway, it pushed a BIG button and I was all wrapped up in it. Then I realized I was renting head space to someone who doesn't belong there. A healthy nap, cookies, reading the text and the book of book, and time alone fixed it. I'm a much better person now.

I'm overwhelmed with gratitude as I spend time with my family. First, my brother Kell is in a good place. He's the clean Kelly who makes me laugh so hard I either pee my pants or spew milk out my nose. He's also the one guy on this earth who gets me, loves me, understands the addiction bit, and never judges me. He's just a big brother who loves his baby sister.

And then there's Garrett, who's new thing is watching the weather channel. It's hilarious. Yesterday, he watched the Seattle area, where a large portion of my family remains. He HAD to call Sha-Sha (my Grandmother) and warn her that there were dangerous thunderstorms coming her direction. Does she have a closet to hide in asked the six year old. He was very serious and I was trying not to erupt in uncontrollable laughter. His seriousness was followed shortly with a noxious fart. All is well in Garrett's world. He could be the next Al Roker you know. Except he's white...and cute....I'll stop there.

And my Mom. She's just being herself and I love it. We laid on her bed to take a nap. Mistake. We talked, I wiggled, she snores, so finally I left. I love my Mom. She's so real, so loving to me and never gives up even when I screw up. She gets the badge and ticker-tape parade for being just a really nice woman. She loves God with all her heart too. She's a superstar.

I'm off to bed.

NASA

2008-06-24T11:43:00.003-06:00

What a week. Sometimes I really love the fact that God continually speaks to me and other times I'd really rather act like a four year old with plugged ears. God was especially poignant this past week, particularly yesterday as I sat through a meeting. The topic was surrender, which of course I'd laid awake the night before with a huge sense of wonderment at the fact I just can't seem to master this subject...nor have I put forth continued effort that creates lasting change. I've always prided myself on being a "fighter" and saw surrender to anything or anyone as giving up that fact. So, this woman from the rooms asked me a great question after the meeting that put the concept of surrender in terms I understand, relate to, and desire to please God in. Imagine that. She was telling me about her very first go around with the first step (for readers unfamiliar, the 1st step is admitting we were powerless over our addiction, that our lives had become unmanageable...easy enough, right?). Her sponsor asked her what the opposite of unmanageable meant. Side note: those of us within in NA are rocket scientists - something's meaning is generally the opposite of it. She responded, logically, that the opposite of unmanageable was manageable. Her sponsor's thoughtful response was simply, MM no. In general, addicts are especially proficient at unmanageable. We thrive on chaos, live for drama, and are generally addicted to most people, places and things. Manageable is mediocre at best. We deserve more. I deserve more. I believe, as her sponsor did, that God intends more for us. Eventually, as she worked this step (and so graciously shared that work with me), she found that the opposite of unmanageable was harmony. To live in harmony with others, with God, with myself. Ha! I get it! Suddenly, surrender doesn't look so daunting, so unreachable. I just have to get out of my own way.

I watched a profound and extremely well done documentary last night on Discovery "In The Shadow of The Moon." It was about the United States accomplishment of landing on the moon via Apollo 11. It followed the lives of those astronauts, along with the ensuing four missions in the following years. I was captivated. I'm not a space geek and really don't understand the whole physics gig, but I love documentaries, love Ron Howard and so forth. Gene Cernan, a NASA pilot/Apollo 11 and 17 member, stated that there was a moment, in the shadow of the moon, that held such ecstasy and excitement, followed by an incredible feeling of a power so much greater than himself. He remarked what a life changing experience it was and that his view of terrestrial relationships, the state of the world, religion - everything was seemingly changed forever. In short, he became a believer. He saw harmony, he lived it and has carried it's message since. At 26,000 mph, a one hundred percent oxygen environment and in a little metal carrier that would go down in flames with the smallest spark, he saw God, he surrendered, he knew in his heart that he had purpose. While NASA rewarded him with a ticker-tape parade and a little patch, God gave him lasting hope, unending grace, and a pretty sweet retirement package that goes on for eternity.

Buzz Alderin said that in the final moments just before the lunar module landed on the face of the moon for the first time, both he and cool-headed Neil Armstrong lost faith in hopes of landing, as the terrain was so jagged. He noted that in guiding the vessel, they faced four simple options: pitch right, pitch left, pitch back, pitch forward. The first three made viewing outside terrain impossible. You went from 100% visibility to zero. If, however, you pitched just slightly forward and kept going, the lunar module maintained course and visibility was 360 degrees with complete visibility. While I believe his statement was not meant to be spiritual, I couldn't help but be blown away by the concept and it's simple relation to my life. Long live NASA, long live the message of hope I received, and long live basic cable.

Addict in Chief

2008-06-22T11:57:00.002-06:00

First of all, I love the NY Times. Secondly, I'm so glad that there is a coming election. I pray for real change in our oil-addicted lives. The proposed energy plan will make it affordable for every american to use natural and alternative sources of fuel and stop our addiction to forgien oil. You can find this article at nytimes.com. Remember, this is my opinion, if you do not share it, that's okay. I have never left a politically charged post, but thought this was worth it. I'll have a personal one coming shortly.
Mr. Bush, Lead or Leave
Addict-in-Chief
By THOMAS L. FRIEDMAN
Published: June 22, 2008
Two years ago, President Bush declared that America was “addicted to oil,” and, by gosh, he was going to do something about it. Well, now he has. Now we have the new Bush energy plan: “Get more addicted to oil.”

Actually, it’s more sophisticated than that: Get Saudi Arabia, our chief oil pusher, to up our dosage for a little while and bring down the oil price just enough so the renewable energy alternatives can’t totally take off. Then try to strong arm Congress into lifting the ban on drilling offshore and in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.
It’s as if our addict-in-chief is saying to us: “C’mon guys, you know you want a little more of the good stuff. One more hit, baby. Just one more toke on the ole oil pipe. I promise, next year, we’ll all go straight. I’ll even put a wind turbine on my presidential library. But for now, give me one more pop from that drill, please, baby. Just one more transfusion of that sweet offshore crude.”
It is hard for me to find the words to express what a massive, fraudulent, pathetic excuse for an energy policy this is. But it gets better. The president actually had the gall to set a deadline for this drug deal:
“I know the Democratic leaders have opposed some of these policies in the past,” Mr. Bush said. “Now that their opposition has helped drive gas prices to record levels, I ask them to reconsider their positions. If Congressional leaders leave for the Fourth of July recess without taking action, they will need to explain why $4-a-gallon gasoline is not enough incentive for them to act.”
This from a president who for six years resisted any pressure on Detroit to seriously improve mileage standards on its gas guzzlers; this from a president who’s done nothing to encourage conservation; this from a president who has so neutered the Environmental Protection Agency that the head of the E.P.A. today seems to be in a witness-protection program. I bet there aren’t 12 readers of this newspaper who could tell you his name or identify him in a police lineup.
But, most of all, this deadline is from a president who hasn’t lifted a finger to broker passage of legislation that has been stuck in Congress for a year, which could actually impact America’s energy profile right now — unlike offshore oil that would take years to flow — and create good tech jobs to boot.
That bill is H.R. 6049 — “The Renewable Energy and Job Creation Act of 2008,” which extends for another eight years the investment tax credit for installing solar energy and extends for one year the production tax credit for producing wind power and for three years the credits for geothermal, wave energy and other renewables.
These critical tax credits for renewables are set to expire at the end of this fiscal year and, if they do, it will mean thousands of jobs lost and billions of dollars of investments not made. “Already clean energy projects in the U.S. are being put on hold,” said Rhone Resch, president of the Solar Energy Industries Association.
People forget, wind and solar power are here, they work, they can go on your roof tomorrow. What they need now is a big U.S. market where lots of manufacturers have an incentive to install solar panels and wind turbines — because the more they do, the more these technologies would move down the learning curve, become cheaper and be able to compete directly with coal, oil and nuclear, without subsidies.
That seems to be exactly what the Republican Party is trying to block, since the Senate Republicans — sorry to say, with the help of John McCain — have now managed to defeat the renewal of these tax credits six different times.
Of course, we’re going to need oil for years to come. That being the case, I’d prefer — for geopolitical reasons — that we get as much as possible from domestic wells. But our future is not in oil, and a real president wouldn’t be hectoring Congress about offshore drilling today. He’d be telling the country a much larger truth:
“Oil is poisoning our climate and our geopolitics, and here is how we’re going to break our addiction: We’re going to set a floor price of $4.50 a gallon for gasoline and $100 a barrel for oil. And that floor price is going to trigger massive investments in renewable energy — particularly wind, solar panels and solar thermal. And we’re also going to go on a crash program to dramatically increase energy efficiency, to drive conservation to a whole new level and to build more nuclear power. And I want every Democrat and every Republican to join me in this endeavor.”
That’s what a real president would do. He’d give us a big strategic plan to end our addiction to oil and build a bipartisan coalition to deliver it. He certainly wouldn’t be using his last days in office to threaten Congressional Democrats that if they don’t approve offshore drilling by the Fourth of July recess, they will be blamed for $4-a-gallon gas. That is so lame. That is an energy policy so unworthy of our Independence Day.

Never Alone, Never Again.

2008-06-02T13:37:00.003-06:00

It's been a few weeks since I've written. Much has been going on in my life. I went to a meeting last night and I was the girl sitting in the back of the room with her arms crossed, eyeing the others, ungrateful, and so wanting to be elsewhere. I have to change my clean date. It's taken me awhile to admit this and I've not verbalized it to anyone. I used to be one of the people in the rooms who thought I could stay clean the first time around. I took the suggestions, got a sponsor, started doing the work, went to meetings, but internally I was a raging wildfire fanning the flames with lots of reservations. Reservations you ask? Not if God is real, but does he work? Can this program and these steps really reveal another way to live without drugs? Can I really share my secrets with my sponsor and other women in recovery? Am I really an addict? I didn't work through these reservations, which in the greater picture meant I didn't and would not completely surrender. It took not only hitting the bottom, but the bottom dropping out, that I've come to understand the nature of surrender. I also better understand that the nature of addiction is compelled to rebel against continued recovery.

I've felt like such a failure. A massive disappointment to all in my life, especially my family. My "aha" moment came this weekend when I realized that others are not the barometer of my success. I am on the journey of self-acceptance. I thought about my God, who gave what meant most to him. A man on a cross, arms open to anyone willing to come. One hand reaching back to the past, the other reaching toward the future, with forgiveness, grace and love just for me. To God, I am no disappointment. He reminded me that being human isn't a character defect! And yes, I maybe a failure in the eyes of others, but to my Lord, I am simply his child. Today, that is enough for me.

Never alone, never again.

Reconnected

2008-05-18T15:58:00.002-06:00

I recently reconnected with an old friend that I've known for some time. He is serving in the military in Afghanistan currently, while his wife, Amy, and their children remain here in the states. Not only do I have great respect for the fact that Craig is protecting the liberties of this nation, I respect and admire his wife for enduring what military life brings. They are a strong christian family. I've added Craig's blog to my list on the left under "Tecmire." Please, pray for his safety, the safety of those he's with, along with praying for his wife and two kids. It's isn't just about our troops, but their families too.

www.navygoesarmy.blogspot.com

Recent Pictures of Garrett and Madilynn

2008-05-15T14:27:00.003-06:00

Madi laughing her pants off. This picture is at the bottom of the blog but is fuzzy.

Only in 1st grade do you celebrate 100 days of school. Isn't he adorable? He's my heart!

Not much to say today except I'm worn out! Felt like showing off my kids!

Rock Climbing and Clenched Fists

2008-05-14T20:38:00.003-06:00

I have to admit I've been struggling so much the past few days. Many may not know that my brother Kelly is an addict and got into addiction at the age of 11. He's not been clean since. I got a call Friday that he said he was ready to deal with this and could I help. When I got sick in 2004 I became addicted to painkillers, so I get what his journey has been like (to a degree - pill head and street drugs are very different lives). Anyway, I jumped and said yes. I spent the next several days trying to get him safe and into treatment. Road block after road block and I was clutching on to this whole thing not surrendering to God. I was like one of my kids who has something they shouldn't and Mommy asks them to give it to her. What I get is a closed hand that looks like a clenched fist and I have to pry each finger open to get what's inside. That was me for several days regarding Kelly and recovery. Well, he bolted last night. Let me back up. Our whole family gave funds for a motel, food, on and on. I took him all over BFE yesterday as the treatment center he wants to go to has a long list of requirements (including a TB test oddly enough). I didn't know where he would stay for two more nights (they can get him in Thursday), called my father and begged if he would help. Kelly called a friend and said she was going to let him stay two nights and so on. So I call last night to talk to him and find out that he lied to me. She never said he could stay. Long story short, he made it back to the motel. This is where the lesson of boundaries had to hit me in the head. I realized that I was doing all these things with the expectation that Kelly would get clean. Well, that is my want and perhaps not his. He surfaced today and I told him that the rest is up to him. Part of recovery is being willing to go to any lengths to get it. I was going to all lengths I could think of and letting him off the hook. Oops. It felt like not only did I get kicked in the head, the a**, but really in the heart.

I prayed long and hard last night about all of this. NOTE: I've been a basket case. God reminded me of that passage of scripture that promises we are on the wings of the Most High and find refuge in him. I was trying to find refuge in controlling things. NOTE: that doesn't work. It's been a good lesson, just a tough one. I'm not afraid to bear my hurts, my scars or bruises, because I know what the balm of Gilead feels like.

Garrett went to Avid for Adventure today. Can you imagine a child who can't walk rock climbing and then repelling down? HE DID IT! I was so proud. He also got to ride a bike with four wheels, which he thought was the coolest thing. You know one of God's greatest gifts in Garrett's Cerebral Palsy? Other kids adore him, I mean, they're nuts over him (especially the girls). I was so worried in the beginning that no one at school would accept him, love him, or be his friend. Now I worry that a fight doesn't break out over who gets to push his wheelchair. God always makes a way does he not? Too cool.

The picture above is not Garrett (my boy is way cuter), just what I imagine he must have looked like!

Breath of God

2008-05-07T14:19:00.003-06:00

I shared this with a dear friend today and thought it was worth sharing again.

When Elijah came out of the cave waiting for God to speak to him and give him the words for the people, he expected this big lightening type show. He wanted God to show up BIG so he wouldn't miss it. Fortunately, by this time the man had perception enough to know when God was directing him. The lightening never came. The big sign saying "Do this and that" never happened. God came in a "puff" or a breath to Elijah. He spoke quietly to him, deep within his heart -the breath of God really. I often expect the speaking of my God to come in big ways and more often than not, it doesn't. He speaks to me through others, through reading and prayer, but most of all he speaks when I quiet my heart. I believe, at least for me, all that is in my life is my portion and my cup. Nothing is out of His hands. When I give thanks for what He's given me, not matter the portion or how filled up my cup is, my heart quiets and faithfully God directs me. The gentle breath of God is all I need. My prayer for you right now is that not only will God speak to you, but bring you distinguished joy in all your circumstances.

I am praying that He bestow wisdom to you, blessing, and most importantly that you sense His nearness in your life. You have so much purpose, so much to give and I believe He has magnificent things in store for you. I believe this for myself as well.

Be lifted up in the gentle breeze of our Savior. It carries through all things and is ever near.

Dirty Socks

2008-05-05T11:59:00.004-06:00

Okay, so I've been a little remiss in writing for awhile. Life happened and the luster of writing all the time faded away. I've been remotived, so hold on to your socks. Maybe it's the turn of my spiritual journey as of late, could be the huge amounts of coffee I've been drinking, or a little Creedence Clearwater Revival cranked up. Who knows, who cares.

My lesson has been about a couple things. Surrender. Ooo, kind of a scary word when we really don't want to let go and allow God to have the drivers seat. I'm raising my hands going, THAT'S ME! Funny how when you pray for the willingness to surrender, God answers. I just had to hit the pavement on my face and let the sting pass until I realized that he wanted me to let go. This lesson was excruciating. Emphasis on painful. However, I'm on the back end of it now and see what it's done for me. All of this was marked by God's unending grace (my stubbornness was a hallmark too but I won't get into that). Do you want to know what I see on the other side of surrender (thank Brooklyn Tab for these words - they're not mine)? "I don't have to worry, I don't have to be afraid. Joy comes in the morning, troubles, they don't last always. For there is a friend named Jesus who will wipe your tears away. And if you're heart is broken, just raise your hands and say: Oh, I know that I can make it, I know that I can stand. No matter what may come my way, MY LIFE is in your hands. With Jesus I can take it, with Him I know I can stand. No matter what may come my way, my life is in your hands. So when your tests and trials, they seem to get you down, and all your friends and loved ones are nowhere to be found; remember there's a friend named Jesus, who will wipe your tears away, and if you're heart is broken, just lift your hands and say....I know that I can make it. I know that I can stand. No matter what may come my way, my life is in your hands." If you're looking for the song, google "My life is in your hands." Trust me, you'll be changed.

You see, I've had to lose a lot recently to surrender, to really understand that no matter what comes my way, I can hold my head up. It's a pathway that's had a lot of curves, bumps and a detour or two. But, my faith in a power bigger than me holds me up. Sometimes we have to lose everything in order to have everything. I'm so in that place!

One other thing...my son as many of you know has Cerebral Palsy. He's playing on a baseball team. Each kid has a "buddy" and it's a bit of a circus but the kids live for it. I see Garrett's tender heart on a regular basis, but Saturday I went to the game. There were kids with special needs ranging from not obvious to the sort that just tugs at your heart. I saw an innocence on that field that touched my heart in a special way. It's not just because they get to play (although, that's a huge piece) it's that they're a part of something. All of us want to belong, we want to be included and feel like we're on a team of people who give a rip. It is my belief that we often separate ourselves, be it out of shame, guilt, self-depcriation or so on. I've done that more than I'd like to admit. For me, it's often out of pride or a sense of terminal uniqueness. I didn't just wake up and smell the coffee (it was more like smelling dirty socks), my soul was awakened to the desire God has for us to be in His fold. Do I trust my Shepard? Not always (can you hear me hitting the pavement again?). Do I believe His fold is enough? Mmmm, sometimes yes, sometimes not so much. But what I realized is that it is not the company I keep in the fold, but the one who leads it. I often feel like the lamb on the Shepards shoulders...you know that one? She keeps getting lost and the Shepard always finds her.

Life is hard. We end up in places we didn't foresee or plan on, but we never have to be alone again. No matter what may come your way, and it may be a lot, our lives can be in the hands of one who wipes away the tears and brings joy in the morning.

It's good to be back. Dirty socks and all.

The Queen of Everything

2008-02-04T15:32:00.000-07:00

Here is my Cookie Monster...

Here is my Queen of Everything!

A Song In My Heart

2008-01-29T17:52:00.000-07:00

My very good friend, Gena, sent me a devotional today that rocked my world. I've been on a journey of spiritual discovery lately. Frankly, it's been frightening. Anyway, the narrative of the devotional was something I related to in a remarkable way. I've lived a life of some faith, but never really had the courage to put it into practice. I desire to be more than just a good church girl. I long to have more than knowledge, which is primarily what my existence has been up until now. One can be full of knowledge but be completely starved of experiencing God Himself. I'm that one. My prayers have been "bless me" and now I realize it's time to pray "expose me." To be honest in the same manner the devotional was, I have lived a life that has required little faith. How much further still will God take me if I surrender my unwillingness? More and beyond is His simple reply. Today, I confess my apprehensions, my doubts, my fears.

I know many people who are dying to live. I am one of them. The old Lisa, the selfish, self-centered, manipulative, critical, half-hearted must die in order that the beauty of God's Lisa may live. "The more we see God as He is, the more compelled we are to give our all to Him." My dearest God has been wonderfully faithful recently to show me who He is and yes, the more I see, the more I surrender. My question of late is not so much is God real, but does He work? My desire is that the answer to both of those questions be a resounding yes, that my life and how I live day to day reflects that. Oh, that God would be the song in my heart.

Gena, thank your faithful dedication to passing on encouraging words, for showing me God does work and loving me because of and in spite of.

Watercolor Mister

2008-01-18T12:29:00.000-07:00

Where to begin. Have you ever had moments where you look back on some things and shudder at your initial response to a circumstance, but are just too egotistical to take any of it back? My week has gone a little something like this.

In my last post, I emotionally lashed out. While my feelings and emotions were on fire and illustrated perfectly what I needed to say, I should have waited a few days before spewing all over the place. The benefit, however, is that I recognize my measure of haste, but also clearly recognize to what a necessary place my feelings took me. The comment my friend made and the gigantic button it pushed, was long overdue in it's course of presentation. The art of that presentation was a tad lacking, I heartily admit.

So, here is the Reader's Digest of my recent spiritual discovery/growth. I was born in church. In fact, the hospital my mother delivered me at was mere blocks from the brick building I grew up in, learning about God. Frankly, it would have saved time if she would've just stopped by North Seattle Alliance Church and popped me out in the sanctuary. My biblical teachers were not noteworthy scholars, but homemakers, Moms, deaconesses and my Grandma. Indeed, many were scholars, they've just managed to fly under the radar all this time. Every Sunday the Norman family was planted in the pew, off to Sunday School and brunch after church. We prayed before meals, gave money to the needy, and our family's money laced the red buckets of the Salvation Army each Christmas. God was indeed a clever rhyme, a pretty watercolor painting proudly displayed on the off-white walls of our Sunday school room. God was woven into every note of every church song I sang, he was in the laced prayer-folded chubby fingers of all the other seven year olds in room 110.

This went on for years, until the time came that our family's splinters were much more evident for others to see. A time arrived that amongst my parents and brother, I was the only one who attended church regularly. I began attending a different church with our neighbors and can say that my spiritual independence was planted then. I started working at a christian camp during the summers and my knowledge of things theological took off. So did my self-righteousness. From various sources, I was fed right and wrong, good and bad, along with everything in between. What I didn't do, and frankly haven't done up until a few months ago, was question. I ate everything up, gravy and all. I became shackled in guilt, bound to the yoke that I could never measure up. Sure, God's grace had been explained to me countless times, I just couldn't take it in. I went on about my way, believing that I had all the answers, that I was invariably right, and those who didn't see it my way weren't wrong, they just weren't going to heaven. Yes, that was the cleft in my mind. You weren't wrong, you just didn't get eternal life.

In adulthood, I wore my judgement like a badge. I can't begin to tell you how many decisions made resulted in paralyzing guilt and shame. I wanted to do the right thing, I wanted to fit in, and more than anything, I just wanted to be loved. Deep down, all those things seemed to elude me. It was beyond all reasonable thought to imagine a God who loved me just the way I was. Instead, I had to meet this checklist, be among the chosen few. I knew in my head what grace was about, but the grip of it had never held anything beyond a fleeting thought, let alone my heart. And so, with each decision that resulted in consequences, or the disapproval of those around me, I felt the iron bars of a cell of condemnation come crashing down. It's a sound I know better than any other - the clamor of unbreakable metal, the distant sneer of the enemy, the sound of each tear that hit the floor as I believed more and more I could never be free. I didn't understand then what I was enslaved to. That lesson wouldn't be revealed for years to come - not because God didn't want me to see, I just couldn't bear to open my eyes long enough to find out. I went on and on. I'm sure many of you can imagine. God's judgement and disdain for me were real. I spent a lot of time trying to make up for what I perceived to be windfalls of character defects. If I did enough, prayed enough, got involved in enough church activities, I might have a fighting chance. What I thought to be God's voice, took on the voices of many people I knew in church, all imposing their moral code, and me taking it like I was being spoon fed pureed bananas for the first time.

The pit of self-loathing grew deeper and deeper. I masked my hatred for who I was with self-righteousness. Believe me, I did things both in the name of God and not in his name that I have been so ashamed of. I thought my self-hatred was a secret. But, those close to me really knew what was going on. They tried to help, but I cast them off for various reasons. The committee in my head was saying "no one can ever be your friend, they don't love God or hold the same convictions you do. You're in a class all by yourself." The truth of what was really happening was that I believed in my heart I was a lost cause, so why bother? Once in awhile I would catch an authentic glimpse of how God really saw me. Overcome with emotion, I tried my hardest to let love in. I just hated myself too much to find a new way of life.

Even when my life was downright unmanageable and insane, I threw up my hands in defeat and prepared (actually, hoped) for the end. I couldn't bring myself to contemplate that God was bigger, I was smaller and that grace looked entirely different than what I believed. Looking back, I see that the bottom had to drop out and my a** had to be kicked bad enough for the light to shine in. My biggest enemy was myself.

The security blanket of self-righteous judgement has been taken away. My adult "woobie" got thrown in the trash and I don't have anything left to lug around or tuck away for false comfort. God keeps feeding me grace and mercy. Half the time I spit it out, like a baby eating solid food for the first time...they just don't know what to do with it. One would think with the shrinking away of all waht is false, all that is destroyed, this overwhelming peace would set in. That's not the case for me. Granted, I have moments of that, but most of the time, I feel like the woman who tucked her panties into her nylons and is walking around with her butt hanging out. It's just no one bothers to mention the pantie problem. Stop laughing, you know exactly what I'm talking about. You look to your sides over and over again, see nothing wrong. It's not until you look in the mirror at the right angle just long enough to realize your butt has been on display like the "Titanic" exhibit at the Smithsonian.

There are some differences in me today. The cosmic prison cell I had myself enslaved to for so long, doesn't exist anymore. God gave me the keys. The voices of condemnation don't take up so much air space. Most of what I hear is a gentle whisper reminding me that my hands thrown up to the heavens is just where they belong. And, I am gripped by none other than the grace so freely given by a God who sees nothing but beauty in me.

That's me, just for today.

Concerned Observer

2008-01-09T16:52:00.000-07:00

I had a "concerned observer" leave an anonymous comment regarding my recent blog entries.

Said observer left this: "I couldn't help but notice the difference in tone and subject matter this blog has taken as compared to the first 2 or 3 entries. I appreciate that these entries reflect various aspects of your daily life, but it almost seems like the person who started this blog is different from the one writing now. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I thought your first few entries were encouraging and thought provoking. They showed me a little bit of how God is working in your life. The recent entries leave me wondering if there aren't some very important issues that still haven't been turned over to God. Please know that I love you and I pray for you and Garrett and Madi often. "

I have thought about this all day long and been left with a feeling of unease, even a bit down right pissed-offness (I have a great grip on the English language by the way). I realize that journaling in this format does allow others to leave their comments and thoughts about what has been written. Generally, I welcome those responses. What I do not welcome is someone offering what they label concern and what is really judgement. The added kick to this is that the author states they pray for Garrett and Madi often and love me. To whoever you are, if you love me as much as you claim, why remain anonymous? Secondly, if you love me like you say, why don't you take the time to find out what's really going on in my life? If you did, you would recognize how terribly wrong you are in your assertion. The work I am involved in and the depth of my spirituality through the process of recovery is mine and is private. I am happy to share it with those around me, especially those not involved in the Fellowship. My stipulation is however, my spiritual growth is left to my own discernment to share on this site. Finally, my children are off limits to you.

I must say, and frankly I don't care if this pisses anyone off, I grow tired of our "christian love" and the "please know I love you" crap. I am a christian. Not a perfect one, but one who loves my God with my whole being. I grew up and have practiced for years the good christian attitude and find it empty of true authenticity. I can't count the number of times I've felt it my place to correct some one in the name of God's love. I wanted to show them "the way" - a way I felt was right and entirely rooted in God. I pointed out their "issues" all while blinded to my own. How often I did not acknowledge that person's intimate relationship with (or without) God; I offered them little grace and no compassion to what other forces may be at work in their lives - forces that are good and bad. And, I always tailed my pontifications with an "I love you," or "I'm praying for you." So here's my assertion at its core: you, whoever you are and whoever may be reading this, stop praying for me and pick up a phone to talk to me. It's easy to judge on a website, easier to think you have perception into someone when you spend five minutes a day reading and not actually taking the time to be with them.

You know, the most spiritual and authentic people I know in my life aren't from my church (with the exception of a few). I have found these precious people in the rooms of Narcotics Anonymous. When someone looks into my eyes and says "I love you," I know they mean it because it isn't generated out of this obligatory christian stance in which somewhere along the line we accepted we had to offer love, regardless of whether it was true or not. Their love is born of experience, born of walking together on a journey that few understand. They have no reason to say is unless it is the truth. This may sound terribly bitter, but I don't care. I'm exhausted from people who say they're my friends, who say they empathize with my issues, who say they're praying for me. Of the countless who say it, two people practice it. You know, Jesus didn't only pray for people. He walked with the one's who were hurting. He knelt beside them, hugged them, looked into their eyes and with every fiber of his being, offered himself. Who would have thought that the most love I receive and give is in a room full of addicts and junkies. I am home there. My walk with Christ isn't some pretty little poem or a watercolor picture on a Sunday School wall. It's in the pages and pages of journaling I do, it's in the telephone calls I give and receive with others that share similar experiences. It is marked by the hours spent with people who are hurting; demonstrated when they walk with me through my own hurts. It is hallowed in the dark rooms of small churches, where we gather to share and practice the greatest spiritual principle - unconditional love. And we don't do it anonymously. We talk loud, we cry loud, we love loud.

We don't get together once or twice a week in our Sunday best and lightly discuss spirituality. We huddle together everyday because our lives depend on it. We don't sit in our chairs and worry about niceties or lacing our conversations with indignant christian love. No, we curse, we yell if we need to, we gather around in a small circle and surrender our lives to a power greater than all of us. Note to the reader: if you're reading this and are just simply shocked that I use profanity, that I question God, that I have relationships outside of the christian comfort zone, you don't know me at all. If you think surrendering issues to God is done only in church or in a quiet prayer life, you are mistaken. Surrender, at least for me, is messy. It hurts, it's agonizing sometimes, but for me it is the only way to live a life rooted in victory. If you want to see Jesus, if you want to see the message of hope, if you want to see surrender tangibly take place, if you want to see a person dying to live - well, my home group meets seven days a week in a church on Hampden. Oh, and in case you've realized you don't know me, let me introduce myself - I'm Lisa and I'm an addict.

Pee Committee

2008-01-07T16:20:00.000-07:00

I feel compelled to share a rather interesting experience I had yesterday. So, the man friend was over this weekend and says he'd like to spend Sunday together. "Doesn't a nice drive up into the mountains with a fabulous lunch in Vail sound like a good idea?" "Why yes dear." So, we wake up early (note: I like to lay in bed with a cup of coffee and talk to man friend during this lazy hour) and the man is on a mission. You'd think the Rolling Stones were going to play in my living room, he was so dead set on getting ready. I hop in the shower and contemplate what to wear on our little driving adventure. I'm a little behind on laundry; another note: did man-friend's laundry this week. He says, after I've done 6 loads and have another 6 to go, that I don't have a knack for domesticality. Profanity spills forth on my part and not to mention, I put his laundry ahead of my own. Codependents Anonymous has just gained a new member and I will never to man friend laundry in my lifetime. Needless to say, my choices range from pj's to my Choir Christmas outfit that leads to a little chaffing, so I'm somewhat at a loss. He advises me to wear something comfortable. Good idea. Knack for the obvious that man has. Anyway, I decide that since we'll be in the car mostly, I don't need to dress like an Eskimo. Sexy sweats it is.

We're on our way, destination unknown, but sharing quality time together as we argue over radio stations. I have the seat warmer on and am enjoying a hot butt. Another note: when man friend comes over, I'm stuck with a six inch margin of the bed and the corner of a blanket. I am perpetually cold when he's around. God love him though. So, having heat generated from BMW leather to warm my cheeks is bliss. Traffic begins to slow as I begin to think how badly I have to pee. Those who know me well, know that I have a bladder the size of a pencil eraser. Traffic now comes to a complete stop and we're in the middle of nowhere. Slicing pain through the bladder as the pee-committee is urgently telling me they need to convene and SOON. I am now gripping the sides of the seat, white knuckled and for whatever reason, not wanting to let on to man friend that I'm having a bladder crisis. I casually mention that I need to hit a bathroom. He makes some sarcastic remark about not peeing on his seats (for the love, I'm a 30 year old woman...do you actually think I'd pee in someone's car?). I move beyond casual and now forcefully say we must get off the highway. Hmm, road sign next to the still not moving car indicated the next exit is 5 miles and just below it reads "No Services." Of course. I am now considering just pulling over the shoulder and allowing half of the Denver-metro area on the road with us, to witness a white butt in the air. Reason takes over and I make myself believe we can make it five miles. Can I just say that was the longest 5 miles in the history of mankind? The pee-committee is ready to stage a coup. Alas, we reach the No Services exit. Remarkably, there are half a dozen other cars lined up. Trying to salvage any shred of modesty available, I ask man friend to drive over to the snow bank along the on ramp. He kindly obliges. I bolt out of the car to arrest the crisis. Let me paint the snow bank picture: It's as tall as I am, and it's snowing sideways by this time. And do you remember me saying to myself in the shower that there's no need to dress like an Eskimo? The gift of foresight eludes me still. Anyway, I climb the snow bank, drop sexy sweats and try to maintain balance and not fall into the yellow snow. The pee-committee is pissed (literally) and I lose my balance. Yep, ass up in six feet of snow (missed the yellow stuff by a thread). However, I now have snow in every body crevice below my belly button. As I pull up my pants I realize that my butt and who-who are now frozen together. Seriously. How does one explain to man friend that I'm frozen shut? I open the car door and he's laughing and denies that he witnessed the pee incident. As the BMW butt warmer kicks in, the snow melts and it looks like I've wet my pants. How do Eskimos pee, by the way? Is there some class I missed in Girl Scouts where they teach you how to drop traou and not pee down the side of your leg while enjoying the bountiful beauty of nature? I so did not get that badge.

Having bonded with nature a little more, and having gained the true meaning of road signs that read "No Services," I press on to share my experience, strength and hope for other women with unruly pee-committees.

Obligatory Resolutions...

2008-01-05T16:19:00.000-07:00

After yet another conversation with Man Friend about New Year's Resolutions, I decided I would "pray" about it and see where a power greater than myself took me (note: said higher power often takes me down the cookie aisle at the grocery store. His idea of a life of contentment - who would go against that kind of HP?). After a few days of very worthwhile ideas, I began a list. I thought about putting that list up on the fridge so I would ever be reminded. Then it occured to me that after a week, the list would be covered up with the Chinese Take Out Menu and the reminder to get a mamogram next month. So, a mental list that never leaves, although could be clouded with moments of senility. After much prayer and serious self-evaluation, I came up with some resolutions that make perfect sense for me and will in no way lead me down the path of shame as they are not met. So, with great pride and a drum roll you must imagine in your head, here is said list...

Drink at least four Carmel Macchiatos per week. This is to stimulate a better economy. It is my personal goal that Starbucks meets it's first quartely profit projections, plus a bonus.

Take a lot of naps.

Blog, rather than clean, cook and do laundry.

Make very believable, but still rather lame excuses as to why I can't hit the gym today.

Pretend that white-sticky rice in my teriyaki bowls (slathered with sauce that's "low-cal") is a really healthy carb.

Buy into the theory that dark chocolate is good for the heart. Must strive to maintain that my house is well stocked.

Be sure to argue with Man Friend now and then. That way, we can practice the great "art" of making up.

Share God, especially late at night with my neighbors...they hear a lot of "Oh dear God" being shouted out in the wee hours. This one practical way to let others know about a Higher Power.
Think about actually dressing nice on occassion instead of wearing elastic-waisted yoga pants. But, for the sake of time and practicality for the day's events, leave myself an out with the yoga pants.

Invest in eye cream to attack the crows feet. I hear dark chocolate is also good for this problem.

Buy my physician a new scale. His is continually incorrect by 10lbs.

Call me practical, call me a pragmatist, call me realistic. These are the best resolutions EVER!

I'm feeling empowered by these you know. Could be quite a year. Well, I'm off to the store...I have a coupon for dark chocolate.

Resolutions and buttless chaps...

2008-01-02T16:07:00.000-07:00

So the new year begins and I'm without a resolution. The man-friend was over the other day and with great dismay, he couldn't believe I didn't have a new year's resolution. I'm just not that way. I love to sit back and listen to others talk about what huge, inventive, practical or imaginative things they're going to accomplish in the coming year. And then, February rolls around and those resolutions are squashed, tabled, or forgotten. My big goal this year is to read some of the classics. Boring, I know.

Anyway. I got this quiz the other day via e-mail and thought I might post it here. Gives you better insight into the space between my ears.

Name? Depends on who is asking...to Garrett I'm often Crackerjack or homeslice. Most of my family calls me Lis, with exception to my brother who generally calls me Bean. In high school, I worked at a summer camp and we had nicknames...I was Tattoo (off Fantasy Island).

What color pants are you wearing? Who says I'm wearing any? I'm sporting buttless chaps. The chaffing is insufferable.

What are you listening to? The sound of my stuffy nose trying to suck up some air.

What's the last thing you ate? A chicken teriyaki bowl.

Do you wish on stars? No.

If you were a crayon what color would you be? Red. A loud and very noticeable shade.

Favorite person on this earth? I can't choose just one. My kids take the cake.

Last person you talked to on the phone? A Douglas County Court clerk.

Favorite drink? A triple Venti, 6 pump vanilla, nonfat, extra hot, carmel macchiato. Yes, the people in line behind me at Starbucks hate me.

Favorite sport? Does putting packing tape on the paws of my cat count? You should see it, I almost peed my pants from laughing so hard. For a legit sport, definitely college football (GO HUSKIES!!!).

Hair color? Creme Brulee according to the box label.

Last movie you watched? 21 Grams.

Siblings? Yep. A big brother.

Favorite food? Crepes with homemade whipping cream. Did you know that whipping cream is a multi-functional food? Oh the possibilities.

Favorite day of the year? My clean date.

How do you vent anger? Lately, profuse use of profanity.

Summer or Winter? Autumn, duh.

Hugs or kisses? Both, as much as possible.

Chocolate or Vanilla? Both.

If you were to step outside right now, how should you dress? Again, buttless chaps. Nevermind the ensuing doctor bill for thawing out butt cheeks that were frozen together.

Right now, your feet feel? Cold. They've been cold since October and won't thaw out until April. My favorite thing to do with them is stick them on man-friend's legs to warm them up. He doesn't see this as very endearing.

Favorite place? Under a down comforter.

Favorite activity? Not for general audience knowledge.

What do you think of when reminiscing on the 80's? Jelly shoes, leg warmers, Dirty Dancing. Oh, and Michael Jackson was still black.

Favorite joke? I only know one...How many kids with A.D.D. does it take to screw in a light bulb? Wanna ride bikes?

One thing you love about yourself? My sense of humor.

One thing you would change about yourself? Physically, it would have to be "the girls." I'm hoping a little Dr. 90210 action might fix that. Mental/Emotional, this would be greater self-sufficiency.

Most fun you've had recently? Watching Alan karaoke to "I'm Just A Gigolo" followed by what we dubbed as a gathering of social misfits.

What scares you? This is a loaded question.

Most embarrassing moment? I have so many, I could apply the Dewey Decimal System to categorize them. Recently, a complete stranger walked into my house and saw me buck naked. Man friend forgot to lock the door behind him. The poor kid who came in was paralyzed. I saw him a week later...he's my next door neighbor (he was drunk and thought he was walking into his apartment). I relive the nightmare every time I see him.

That's it. Now you know all about me.

Champagne taste verses Budweiser braggin'

2007-12-20T14:52:00.000-07:00

This is a tangible expression of my feelings about Christmas shopping this year. I'm so over it! It began a few days ago when I decided to venture to Wal-Mart. I went in the afternoon, thinking it would be slightly less crowded. I was delirious and such was my state of being for several days. Anyway, it was wall to wall people and every banshee child acting like a flaming tantrum on wheels was in appearance. All of us adults were just wandering around aimlessly, looking like a poor doe with her vacant stare into the headlights of an oncoming car. Two and a half hours later, a cart full of who-knows-what, and the overwhelming desire to run my car off a cliff, I managed to escape.

That same evening my "friend with great benefits" and I agreed that we would go Christmas shopping together the following night. So here's my thinking. We'll hit the mall, I'll get something for my Mom and one of the kids. This would also provide me the chance to get a better idea of what to get "the man who has everything." By the way, this is the greatest mystery I've been faced with in quite some time. Back to the story. While I had goals in mind, I thought this would be a leisurely kind of thing. He explained to me who he had yet to buy gifts for and so I figured we'd also knock those out one by one. After the fact, I concede to the fact that this was a hallucination. We never made it past Macy's. I suggested heading to Nordstrom to find a gift for his Mom. It was explained to me that I have champagne taste and he loves Budweiser. After an hour and the purchase of one gift on my part, we headed home. Later we get to talking and he announces "So, you know how much I care about you?" "Uh, yeah..." "Let's agree to NEVER go shopping together again!" "You're kidding right? What's wrong with how I shop?" Recap of the beer vs. champagne thing and...."You're just really bossy." The thump that ensued was me fainting over such an allegation! Me, bossy? Was he delirious? How could my simple suggestions be perceived as bossy? How could my comment of "get up off the couch, we're not finished yet" be construed as officious? That's just good leadership on my part!!! He also mentions at this point that my understated manipulations for things I want are about as subtle as a freight train. Here, all this time I thought I was being coy while putting my toe over the line. Cleverness, I thought, was my greatest adversary. Humph. Have you ever had a moment when you've been figured out, discovered, called on the carpet? You know the other person is right and all you can do is sit there with a poo-eating grin? Insert my face here with such a grin. All this time, I thought I had him in my back pocket. He's smarter than I thought!

I'm off now to Toys-R-Us. Later this evening you might hear something come from my Scarlett O'Hara alter-ego..."Darlin', I have suffered so. Oh, the madness of it all and yet I pressed on. Fix me a drink and hand me a Nembutal..." So, the drink would be eggnog and the Nembutal a diuretic to cure this ever worsening water-weight gain...but that's another story!

Happy shopping to all!

The best part of being a reindeer...

2007-12-13T22:54:00.001-07:00

The week's events and other mindful things from the mouth of a six year old little boy...

"The best thing about being a reindeer is watching Santa fall off the roof."
In reference to a man pinned down to the ground at the mall (he was being arrested for shoplifting - lots of cops and the whole nine yards), our nightly prayers heard this: "For that bad guy on the ground, I pray that he goes to jail and when he gets out, he promises to be a nice guy."
Nana says to Garrett "You're being a grumpy butt." Garrett replies "Nana, you know that butt is a bad word." Nana, "You're right. You're a grumpy bottom." Garrett, "Please Nana, say nice words. Bottom isn't nice." Nana, "Indeed. You're a grumpy tush." Garrett: laughing so hard he nearly pees.
Garrett, "Hey Mom, I wanna be a professional wrestler." Mom, "Aim high kid. You better start training." Garrett, "Where's the tissue paper?"
Mom's had a bad day, she's a little tearful during prayers. My son is preciously sensitive. He farts and says "Did that cheer you up Mom?" Not necessarily, but the choking while trying to gasp for breath sure took my mind off things.
"I love you crackerjack." "I love you too, homeslice."

In His Grip

2007-12-13T11:25:00.000-07:00

It's been several days since my last post. Life has been busy and I've been sick.

I was on my way to a meeting last night, thinking about some of the circumstances in my life and how I feel about them. I went back in my mind to how I used to deal with some of these things, and well, it wasn't a pretty thought. God has done such a tremendous work in my life and brought me so far over the past nine months. I've learned that even when I'm not holding onto God, He continues to hold onto me. The meeting topic last night was change. I think it's safe to say that I've changed a lot recently, some very easy and graceful changes, others quite difficult and obtuse. All for the better, I believe. It's been my experience that change breeds insight and not the other way around. I generally don't have "aha" moments and change my life from that point on. It seems that I am in the midst of change when the "aha" occurs. What I do know for certain, is that in the quiet moments of my life, when I lift my hands to the heavens, I open myself up to God's will for my life. I've carried around so much shame for so long. Shame is not what the Lord wishes from me, and it certainly is not something He cast upon me. When I lift up my hands, sometimes in utter despair and frustration, I make myself available to have that shame lifted.

I heard a song on the radio last night that nearly brought me to tears. To ask God how far the east is from the west, He simply says it's the distance between one nail scarred hand to the other. And so it is with His love for me, His desire to go further still among the lessons of life. My grip on the Savior is a little tighter today, but I rest in peace knowing that his grip never lessens.

Little boys, bodily noises, and a future rap star!

2007-12-06T12:24:00.000-07:00

Garrett is home sick today, so we're busy hanging out. We've had a cheerios war, played cars, watched cartoons, had a bath and hugged an awful lot. For those of you who don't know, Garrett has cerebral palsy and is not able to walk independently. When people find out about his disability, I usually get the "Ohh. I'm so sorry." This is generally spoken in a whisper, as if saying out loud that Garrett has a disability might make it worse. For whatever reason, this just cracks me up. I keep thinking if I whisper about weight gain, it might not make it true, or at least slow the process down. That's the funny thing about truth, at least absolute truth. 2 plus 2 is always 4. Once you've had 2 babies, nursed them both, followed by a complete hysterectomy, generally a lap-sack/fanny addendum makes it's truth known. I live with this absolute truth everyday. Sometimes my denial rises up above reality, Ben and Jerry come over. Somehow one bite turns into two, ten and so on. I seem to believe I can defy the laws of physics and that expansion doesn't occur while consuming Half Baked. My awakening to the reality of caloric intake minus physical activity is another story. One that often concludes with some curse words and wriggling my way back into either my fat pants or something with an elastic waste. Have I mentioned my love affair with elastic? Elastic makes everything right in the world. So does Ben and Jerry's.

Anyway, I was talking about Garrett. He was in the tub having a grand time and I was working away on the computer. From the bathroom I hear "Hey homeslice, I want to teach you a new song. Come up here." Yes, homeslice is a term of endearment in my house. I trudge upstairs to find my naked six year old, bright eyed and ready to burst at the seam. I'm thinking (in the 15 seconds it takes me to get upstairs) that perhaps he's going to teach me some cool song he learned in music class, like "America the Beautiful" or "Father Abraham" - yeah, notsomuch. Instead, I hear a song he and his friend Michael "made up." It goes something like this: Yo-Yo, do you wanna bam-chicka-wow-wow? Think of the bass line in the Seinfeld theme song mixed with a little adult-entertainment music (and NO, I don't watch that garbage - don't ask me how I know that type of music). Bam-chicka-wow-wow. Bam-chicka-wow-wow. I doubt that our little angel Michael came up with that on his own. I begin to laugh, which of course tickles Garrett to no end. Now, he wants to call everyone in our family so they can hear his song. I can hear my father muttering that he's heard that song before somewhere. So then, King Nakedness then moves into the bedroom, shivering and making the bam-chicka sound like a wayward soprano with a vibrato that has it's own zip code. I'm hysterical at this point. We agree that we should come up with some more words to the song. Another absolute truth...it's hard to formulate words when you're on the verge of peeing your pants because your naked six year old thinks he's Eminem. Garrett is either destined to be a Grammy winner or will eeek out a living singing jingles for infomercials.

He gets off the bed and begins to scootch his way down the stairs, stilling singing a mixture of songs and laughing. As I write this, he's in the other room teaching his red convertible corvette and Optimus Prime to duet to something along the lines of "Yo Mama..."

I just asked him what the funniest thing he knows is. In true boy fashion, take a wild guess what his response is? Farting is the funniest thing he knows and does. He tells me that he especially likes pizza farts. Ooop, now he's going to give me an example. Gasping for air. Must keep breathing. Another absolute truth: boys love anything to do with farts. This fascination doesn't end until the day they cross over into the next life. I have a number of men in my life, all of them obsessed with out-doing each other in this particular area. I have one question (this could be deemed irreverent, but I swear it's not meant that way...): God made man in his likeness, so do you think God gets a little gassy if he eats too much Mexican food?

To the truth of little boys singing, farting, and the lost art of Bam-chicka-wow-wow talents...

Homegirl from the Hood Alter Ego

2007-12-05T11:06:00.000-07:00

I have a few alter-egos that have made their debut over the past number of years. When I scrapbook, Martha Stewart on steroids shows up. While cooking, you're likely to see Rachel Ray on speed and when wanting to feel loved and chosen, I often look like Donald Rumsfeld who stood before the Defense Budget Committee. Last night and again this morning, my favorite schitzo-side made an appearance...Homegirl from the Hood. Ahhh, yes. This is when I forget that I'm a white woman with two left feet and somehow am transformed to a Broadway Chorus Line dancer with an ability to breakdance. Close your mouth from the horror of this thought. And try not to laugh to hard the next time you see me.

Last night while at choir rehearsal, during this particular soulful song, we (as in 300 white folk with little rhythmic abilities) have to do this step-touch thing. Mind you, one must step-touch to a beat, sing the right words and pray to the dear Lord that you remember what part you sing. I'm sure some of you must be asking, how hard can that be? Trust me, it's more complicated than it seems. So, in good Lisa fashion, I call upon my days as a bright six year old who thought she was destined to be a ballerina for the next Nutcracker performance. Another fine example of where my best thinking takes me. Anyway, so let me set the scene. This grooving song plays on, 300 people must step and touch all in unison and keep from tossing our cookies from the shaking of the risers. The director gives his post, the drums and piano set the beat...and the blonde white girl transforms herself to Homegirl from the Hood. I'm sure looking onto the stage from the audience, one might think I was having body convulsions just like Elaine did on Seinfeld. I'm oblivious to my actual state. As I continue onward, ever thinking that we've pulled it off (especially me), the wave of nausea begins to rise. Dear me. I must hold my nose while covering my mouth to keep back the tide. This is hard to do when your arms are flailing about, continuing to hit the lovely man standing next to me in the butt (sorry Gale, more than likely, this will repeat itself through our final performance). I endure. Step-touching away, and eventually all is well. Homegirl retired for the evening - only to rise again this morning.

I arrived at the library this morning to do a few things. I forget that Wednesday mornings is children's story time and activity hour. I poke my head in and the volunteer lurches at me like a cat in heat. He must have seen Homegirl, or was just terribly pressed to find a matronly figure to help out during the activity. An aha moment for me: I have transformed into "matronly." cornered at this point with nowhere to run, I oblige. Then he tells me that the kids will be dancing to a Paula Abdul video with a few minutes at the end for their own "interpretive dance." Still recovering from last night's motion sickness, I begin practicing holding my nose shut to keep the spew from, well, spewwing out. Mr. Tom announces that a new helper has arrived and I wave like a politician staring at a beauty queen. As the VHS is pushed in, Paula Abdul bounces onto the screen. Tom whispers to me that there is one little darling who must be watched closely. Last month, her interpretive dance to Amy Grant's Rocking Around the Christmas Tree, went from innocent to a cartoonishly lewd striptease very quickly. I think to myself "I've danced in my skivs plenty of times to that...what's so wrong with jamming to Amy?" Another example of fine thinking. With my eyes perched to this little girl, along with the other kids, some of whom look like placid little cadavers slinking from their little tyke chairs, I begin the step touch movement. Paula busts out a little James Brown and suddenly we're all little Soul Train divas and soul-gods. I've decided by the way, that wiggling is good for the soul. All of us seem to shine when we wiggle a little. I was a flood lamp at this point if shining is what happens when dancing. So, the break dancing begins and this little girl with Down Syndrome asks me if I'd do a cartwheel with her. Marylou Renton I am not, but to her I must look like a human pretzel. Suddenly, panic sets in. It's the same kind of panic I have when I can't fit into my pants and I get on the scale to see the damage. The 3/10's of a pound I've gained must be stuffed back down with a brownie. I must press on, I must give this child her dream of me doing a cartwheel (can you sense my Scarlet O'Hara alter-go coming out?). Now mind you, my version of a cartwheel resembles a duck with it's butt in the air, head in the water hoping for a little krill to come along. This coupled with a rocking motion and my hands firmly planted on the ground. Duck butt and all, I give it my best shot. I hear only a few snickers coming from the others. I'm the only adult in the center of the room attempting to refine her gymnatic skills.

I look around the room and see kids of all different shapes and sizes. Some are cute, others more homely. A few can actually dance, while the rest of us lurch and fall, jump and crash, and gyrate our hips in a very Brittaney Spears way. It occurs to me that the human desire to be something other than ordinary sets in at a young age. Somewhere along the way, we lose sight of laughter. Suddenly, being silly is transported from innocent to ghastly. Like Donald Rumsfeld, we just want to be loved and chosen. A great truth in life hits me: all of us are loved and chosen, even Dick Cheney and Osama Bin Laden. Oh, that God loves us all, simply because God loves.

Mr. Tom decides to do a lesson on the Electric Slide. Do you remember this little dance, often found at bars - where generally the participants have to be gorked out of their heads to do it. Been there. Got the T-shirt. Little ensembles of children dive right in. They all seem to master the elusive and ever complicated pivot. I nearly tear my ACL. Children are more limber, right? After instruction on where to put your foot and how to turn, I cheat and just turn. My childhood races before me again - trying and striking out at basketball, ballet, geometry, and square dancing. Homegirl has a bruised ego that toddlers look better doing the Electric Slide. Finally, we all fall to the floor laughing. I'm in good company when I see the four-year old boy next to me laughing so hard he's holding his goods to keep from peeing everywhere. Another been there. Didn't get the T-shirt, just an overwhelming desire to invest in big-girl diapers. The kids are magnificent in their joy, their clumsiness, and their acceptance of a 30 year old homegirl-wannabe. The girl with Down Syndrome says that she liked the helper. "She does cartwheels and laughs a lot." The very essence of how I wish to be remembered in life is uttered. Will my obituary someday read "Lisa tried to help. She danced even when she looked silly and did cartwheels through life."

Homegirl, may you rave forever.

Advent

2007-12-04T13:20:00.000-07:00

I love this time of year as each day my excitement for Christmas grows. As a child, my grandmother gave me an Advent Calendar. It began the first day of December and each day had a very special surprise attached to it. The gifts went from candy to ornaments to small toys. Every morning I would run into the kitchen to see what treasure I would find. This is one of the happiest memories from my childhood. As I recall, my Advent Calendar continued until I graduated high school. Now that I am an adult, the meaning of advent has evolved. Our church has a special advent program this year that I have found incredible. The word advent refers to the "coming arrival." It is a season filled with great anticipation. The advent is the four weeks leading up to December 24. Each week, a candle is lit, representing light spreading out into the darkness. The church has created a gift envelope to open each week. The envelope contains a scripture reading, an activity, a theme and a chance to write out a prayer surrounding that week's theme. Last week, I lit a candle for hope. This week, we light the candle for truth. A dear friend of mine and I agreed to open our envelope and light our candles at the same time each week.

One of the questions about hope asked if I have ever had to wait for something. Oh yes, yes, I have. Waiting is hard for me as it often symbolizes unknown and quietness. I am now in a season of waiting. I have found it increasingly frustrating and difficult. Countless times I've raised my hands toward the heavens, asking God to reveal the next step for me. His revelations have been faithful, but I have been upset that they aren't what I was hoping for! Last night as I prayed and opened this week's envelope, I was reminded that God is in the waiting. Surely, as He is the beginning and the end, he must certainly be all of the in between. The space between my ears has been a symphony of chaos to say the least. My hope today is that I can be quiet enough to know the presence of something greater than myself, to sense the needs of those I love, and to wait...patiently or otherwise, on the faithful leading of one who has only the best for me.

My advent calendar now is even greater than when I was small...the gifts in store must be beyond all my imagination.

Let the blogging begin...

2007-12-04T12:51:00.000-07:00

I've finally succumbed to the newest rage of blogging! A good friend of mine recently undertook this little project and I've found myself on almost a daily basis reading her posts. It's proved to be a great way to keep up with what's going on in her life. My "keep in touch" skills have been seriously lacking, especially amongst my friends who live in other states. So, here I am, blogging away with the hope that this might bridge the gap in communication between some of us. I've lost my blogging virginity. Hmm, never thought I'd say that.

So, what's happening in my life? Boring doesn't seem to be in my vocabulary. Readers Digest version: I have a job that I love but isn't paying. Looking for a new one that will propel me into financial ease, which essentially means I could be looking for a long time. The kids are great. Garrett is making his way in first grade (much to my chagrin, he's a celebrity in our little suburban school). He is as precious and hilarious as ever. God blessed him with an incredible sense of humor. Madilynn is as smart and pretty as a whippet. It's actually a bit frightening. She's so articulate and focused. Little Miss Indepdendent. Can't imagine where she gets it. I've recently renewed my commitments at church. I took time off this past year as I had to deal with some very major issues. It's good to be back in Choir - worship is a great passion of mine. This weekend is Christmas At The Ranch. We attract several thousands of people over the period of three days. It's a fantastic venue and a strong message. Go to http://www.chcc.org/ to find more information.

I've been involved in a 12-step fellowship since March 2007. I think that God has been shaping my testimony to be one of redemption and unending grace. For those of you unaware, following my illness in 2004, I became addicted to prescription pain medication. As I continue to blog, I'll share more about that. Anyway, God saw fit to keep me alive and give me a second chance at this thing called life. My journey these past nine months has been an absolute miracle - a true story of redemption and restoration. I am passionate about my personal recovery, and as of late, a growing ember has burned for other addicts still suffering. I am so blessed to have a number of strong relationships in my life that have been born out of recovery. The women who continue to mentor me and guide me through the everyday business of living, are an ever remarkable example of God's purpose in my life. My gratitude speaks...

You are welcome to keep tabs on my journey as I share the current happenings and growth taking place in my life.