After a lot of thought, I've decided to take a hiatus from this blog. I'm still trying to get a clear idea of what I want to use this blog for, and I think I'm a bit off track from what I want as of yet. My plan is to re-tool a bit, and then continue to post here but with more of a music and motherhood focus.
Until then, I hope you'll stop by the next blog I'm creating: The Wholeness Project. I'm putting it together as we speak, and I'm very excited about it! Please visit me at http://thewholenessproject.blogspot.com/. I'm hoping to have it up and running over the next week.
Thanks for reading!!
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
God bless the broken road...
People that know me really well know that this has been a challenging year for me. It's been about a year since I left my job working for a church ministry. During the last few months of my tenure there, my world was rocked in ways I had never experienced before. Attacks came at me and my family, from people and places I never would have expected. I knew when I finally made the decision to leave that it was the right choice...did not make it any easier to do, though. It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made. People often say that the right thing isn't always the easy thing--it's true, I can attest. When I left the office on that last day, I thought I was turning over a new leaf, embarking on the path to healing and discovering God's true path for me.
Well, that is what He's doing right now, I'm convinced...but He never said that new path would be a direct route. God is taking me on the scenic route, the country road, the long way home. He's had me at a complete stop at several points, which is agonizing to me. I am always on the go, and it is so hard for me to slow down. But, He knows that.
He's had me stop to look around at the walls I've put up around myself, now crumbling because they are not from him. Walls to protect myself from failure, from being hurt, from truly succeeding at my dreams because I've not considered myself good enough to achieve them. These walls are falling apart, brick by brick. They need to come down.
He's had me stand on a hillside to see the gorgeous terrain that lies behind these walls--the plans He's got for me as a singer, as a teacher, as a mother, as a wife, as a person. And these plans are big and grand and far outweigh anything I could come up with. I just need to take down the walls first. I need to trust, let go, and know he's got it under control.
He's had me stop to look at the beautiful flowers planted on the journey: the tree of my marriage slowly growing stronger and higher. A beautiful rose-flowered bush for my daughter, dancing in the breeze. A strong, leafy, deep green plant for my son.
Of course, any time you plant things, you're going to get some weeds that pop up, no matter how you try to prevent them. They are pesky, prickly, inevitable. These plants need to be pruned and weeded so they can continue to grow strong and healthy. They need me to care for them, cultivate them, love them.
He's closed windows where the breeze was too drafty, many of them to my great disappointment. He's flung some wide open for me to enjoy the breeze, when I remember to slow down and really appreciate it. He's left a few doors, hidden along the path, cracked just a bit so I may choose to sneak in when I find them.
And he's shown me a beautiful lilac tree, set apart just a bit from the other elements. The tree had kind of a rough start-dealt with some bugs or weeds or rough weather at different points in its lifetime. But there it stands, still blooming and beautiful, the amazing scent drifting through the air. Overcoming its past and rising up towards the sunshine.
The tree, the plants, the walls: they all reveal some things I've needed to learn about myself. Having a rough past does not mean that I cannot bloom and grow and be beautiful. The closing of a window does not mean that I've failed God, or anyone else. My dreams and God's plans for me are not out of reach just because they're not in front of me yet. My worth does not come from me, or my peers, or even my family. It comes from God, who loved me so much that he gave his son for me.
Because of his love, I can keep dreaming. I can sing, and teach, and care for my family, and care for myself. He's given me these gifts, and if I remember to stand still long enough to listen, He will guide me. I do not have to hide. I can take down these walls. I can heal. I can find my heart. I can follow the path He's got set for me: straight, broken, or detour-filled.
I'm trying to work on our family's summer and fall schedules--Moms run the household! Summer is slowly coming together, but Fall seems to be a mystery, and I feel like it's being obscured from me for some reason. Now I think I understand why.
Well, that is what He's doing right now, I'm convinced...but He never said that new path would be a direct route. God is taking me on the scenic route, the country road, the long way home. He's had me at a complete stop at several points, which is agonizing to me. I am always on the go, and it is so hard for me to slow down. But, He knows that.
He's had me stop to look around at the walls I've put up around myself, now crumbling because they are not from him. Walls to protect myself from failure, from being hurt, from truly succeeding at my dreams because I've not considered myself good enough to achieve them. These walls are falling apart, brick by brick. They need to come down.
He's had me stand on a hillside to see the gorgeous terrain that lies behind these walls--the plans He's got for me as a singer, as a teacher, as a mother, as a wife, as a person. And these plans are big and grand and far outweigh anything I could come up with. I just need to take down the walls first. I need to trust, let go, and know he's got it under control.
He's had me stop to look at the beautiful flowers planted on the journey: the tree of my marriage slowly growing stronger and higher. A beautiful rose-flowered bush for my daughter, dancing in the breeze. A strong, leafy, deep green plant for my son.
Of course, any time you plant things, you're going to get some weeds that pop up, no matter how you try to prevent them. They are pesky, prickly, inevitable. These plants need to be pruned and weeded so they can continue to grow strong and healthy. They need me to care for them, cultivate them, love them.
He's closed windows where the breeze was too drafty, many of them to my great disappointment. He's flung some wide open for me to enjoy the breeze, when I remember to slow down and really appreciate it. He's left a few doors, hidden along the path, cracked just a bit so I may choose to sneak in when I find them.
And he's shown me a beautiful lilac tree, set apart just a bit from the other elements. The tree had kind of a rough start-dealt with some bugs or weeds or rough weather at different points in its lifetime. But there it stands, still blooming and beautiful, the amazing scent drifting through the air. Overcoming its past and rising up towards the sunshine.
The tree, the plants, the walls: they all reveal some things I've needed to learn about myself. Having a rough past does not mean that I cannot bloom and grow and be beautiful. The closing of a window does not mean that I've failed God, or anyone else. My dreams and God's plans for me are not out of reach just because they're not in front of me yet. My worth does not come from me, or my peers, or even my family. It comes from God, who loved me so much that he gave his son for me.
Because of his love, I can keep dreaming. I can sing, and teach, and care for my family, and care for myself. He's given me these gifts, and if I remember to stand still long enough to listen, He will guide me. I do not have to hide. I can take down these walls. I can heal. I can find my heart. I can follow the path He's got set for me: straight, broken, or detour-filled.
I'm trying to work on our family's summer and fall schedules--Moms run the household! Summer is slowly coming together, but Fall seems to be a mystery, and I feel like it's being obscured from me for some reason. Now I think I understand why.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
You, You, You Oughta Know...
I'm a huge fan of Facebook...some might call me an addict, but for today we'll go with "fan." I think one of my favorite things about the site is the wide selection of apps and activities. I've subscribed to the God Wants You To Know app since the beginning of my FB membership. The daily messages will very often resonate with a situation I'm facing or a feeling I'm working through. Some have been extremely poignant, and today's message was no exception. In fact, it's probably one of the most applicable messages I've received.
On this day of your life, we believe God wants you to know...that your pains are God's way to rouse you from slumber.
Pain in your wake-up call to awaken, to look deeper into yourself, to adjust the course of your life. God tries to be as gentle as possible, and only if you ignore the call does your pain get stronger.
Ouch...literally!!
In general, there are very few days or stretches of time where I feel rested and energetic. I kind of just plod along, not very happy with where I am but apparently not uncomfortable enough to change it. Then, times like this happen. I started losing my voice, the mainstay of my job, on Saturday. Somehow I got enough of it back to be able to sing for Easter services, and then it started to fade again. By Monday morning it was totally gone. Then, to top it off, on Monday I developed severe stomach pain. I figured out, too late to remedy, that I was having a gall bladder attack even though my gall bladder was removed several years ago. If you eat too heavily or don't take care of yourself, you can still experience those heart attack-like symptoms because your bile ducts and liver are working overtime. I was in terrible pain most of the day and well past the time I usually go to sleep. Today, Tuesday, the majority of the pain is thankfully gone. I'm just left with the aftermath, that soreness that you'd feel after having the stomach flu or food poisoning.
Then this message came up...and totally ruined me. I've complained for what seems like forever about not feeling well, wanting to have energy and be confident with myself. In short, why can't I just feel BETTER??!! Then it hit me like a ton of bricks: you can talk the talk about wanting to change all you like, but when you keep going back to the same bad habits and expect a miraculously different result, you're going to be disappointed. Isn't that the tongue-in-cheek definition of insanity?? God laid it out on the table for me: Until you're willing to truly change your ways and step out of the comfort zone, you're going to constantly end up back at this point. And since I love you far too much to let you stay here, I'm going to remind you from time to time about the repercussion of your poor choices. Take a different path!!
This pain, which I've had quite a bit over the last few months, has been more bothersome each time. I'd thought it was the flu, or food poisoning. It's cost me money from cancelled lessons, time from laying on the couch, progress toward my goals for the need to rest and recuperate.
God is constantly finding ways to silence and still me so He can talk to me. I'm now fully convinced that each bout of laryngitis is an effort to do just that. So when that happens, I try not to get too discouraged, and instead I ask what He's trying to say. I think he wanted me especially silent and still to hear this big truth.
Read you loud and clear, God. Help me to stop, be silent, be still, and take a different path.
I'm listening...
On this day of your life, we believe God wants you to know...that your pains are God's way to rouse you from slumber.
Pain in your wake-up call to awaken, to look deeper into yourself, to adjust the course of your life. God tries to be as gentle as possible, and only if you ignore the call does your pain get stronger.
Ouch...literally!!
In general, there are very few days or stretches of time where I feel rested and energetic. I kind of just plod along, not very happy with where I am but apparently not uncomfortable enough to change it. Then, times like this happen. I started losing my voice, the mainstay of my job, on Saturday. Somehow I got enough of it back to be able to sing for Easter services, and then it started to fade again. By Monday morning it was totally gone. Then, to top it off, on Monday I developed severe stomach pain. I figured out, too late to remedy, that I was having a gall bladder attack even though my gall bladder was removed several years ago. If you eat too heavily or don't take care of yourself, you can still experience those heart attack-like symptoms because your bile ducts and liver are working overtime. I was in terrible pain most of the day and well past the time I usually go to sleep. Today, Tuesday, the majority of the pain is thankfully gone. I'm just left with the aftermath, that soreness that you'd feel after having the stomach flu or food poisoning.
Then this message came up...and totally ruined me. I've complained for what seems like forever about not feeling well, wanting to have energy and be confident with myself. In short, why can't I just feel BETTER??!! Then it hit me like a ton of bricks: you can talk the talk about wanting to change all you like, but when you keep going back to the same bad habits and expect a miraculously different result, you're going to be disappointed. Isn't that the tongue-in-cheek definition of insanity?? God laid it out on the table for me: Until you're willing to truly change your ways and step out of the comfort zone, you're going to constantly end up back at this point. And since I love you far too much to let you stay here, I'm going to remind you from time to time about the repercussion of your poor choices. Take a different path!!
This pain, which I've had quite a bit over the last few months, has been more bothersome each time. I'd thought it was the flu, or food poisoning. It's cost me money from cancelled lessons, time from laying on the couch, progress toward my goals for the need to rest and recuperate.
God is constantly finding ways to silence and still me so He can talk to me. I'm now fully convinced that each bout of laryngitis is an effort to do just that. So when that happens, I try not to get too discouraged, and instead I ask what He's trying to say. I think he wanted me especially silent and still to hear this big truth.
Read you loud and clear, God. Help me to stop, be silent, be still, and take a different path.
I'm listening...
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