What a pity

I was nonchalantly open with people about the outline of my life thus far during those darker times. Different people who had different places in my life, their responses, regardless of the person, to me always felt the same. Pity. Pity for me having gone through whatever they imagined the details of my life to be, pity for my lost, pity that I would never be normal again, pity. No matter how nonchalant my delivery, pity always lingered in their response. At least to me it did. Pity just reminds you of the pit you’re in. I’m still not a fan of it, pity.

Today I know. I understand. I needed to feel that. The shame. The loneliness. The emptiness. The pit. This pit that I was in…. was dug especially for me as well as all the joy and happiness that eventually followed in my life.

A bitter pill to swallow that  saying, “gotta take the bad with the good.” A bitter pill the size of an enormous pit. Alone I couldn’t climb out of that darkness. I had to learn that. I was a slow learner then. But that just meant I learned all the more. Glass being half full and all. All our lives come with good and not so good and sometimes seemingly unbearable moments. Choose to live. Choose to learn when being taught. Choose to allow Him to free you from your time in the pit. When the timing is right He will deliver. For He…He is a faithful God.  

Psalms 25:10 All the ways of the Lord are loving and faithful for those who keep the demands of his covenant.

…We, as people, can be so unfaithful. To loved ones, bosses, ourselves even. He knows we mess up. The great thing is He loves us anyway and He, He never messes up. Who better to keep a covenant with.

 

Meant to bear it

There were those times I wondered, “What was He thinking when He allowed it so, that this would be the cross I would have to bear?” That this was my thing to handle when people said, “He doesn’t give you what you can’t handle.” I wondered but instantly knew better, “What if He got it wrong?” The hurt, overbearing, the loneliness, hollow, the anguish, a pit. Surely not me, surely not this cross, this destruction of a life was not mine to bear. Am I not destined to fail even if I win, this being my cross?

I was at that age of defiance and my stuff don’t stink mode when my mother was taken away. You can only imagine the guilt.

Another heap added atop that cross, my cross. 

How long after the thought of me that made me into existence did He finally say okay that moment would be the allowed time? When the time came I suppose. After-all, his word is truth. Once he says it, allows it, it is so.

I delight in knowing his words about me give me more power over the cross that was set for me. 

How? Well for one, He took it up for me when I let him. The weight of it all that He took on… has made me light and able to go on.

He knew I could bear it because He knew He’d be there to take what was too much for me.

Knowing this do I still have my moments of doubt and take back on what He willingly took for me? Absolutely. I am human. I am flawed. I can be downright dumb at times. But He knows this too. And He is still here, arms wide open to return peace and lightness to your life. My life.

Thanks for reading. Be at peace. Give it to Him.

 

 

Being told excuses

You’re taught at a young age not to make excuses. Why then when we get older all we are fed from one another are excuses? We go from “my brother or sister made me do it” to “the devil made me do it.” One I never thought I would be in the receiving end of would be, “his mental status made him do it.” Fools. They, were all fools. Fools that had been fooled.

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We hear excuses and we give excuses.  Most excuses are given or received, then left at the table, so to speak. I had to endure hearing the same excuse on a yearly basis. “He didn’t mean it and he won’t do it again but to be on the safe side you’ll be notified that he’s not able to attempt to do it again every year, until….”

Excuses. When do you decide to listen and accept? Ignore and reject? Afterall, isn’t an excuse just another lie.

Then again, there are those excuses in life we just have to live with, whether or not we accept, reject, listen or ignore. It’s the biggest horse pill to swallow when you have no control, especially over what you believe to be a lie, a slap in the face.

I think learning over time, over lots of time, to be myself with God helped plenty to be able to live with the horse pill of my life. Asking Him the hard questions and expressing my true emotions, even and especially hate at times, and not pretending, was the beginning of the fog being lifted. It was only but a mire thin layer of the dark cloud, but a layer all the same.

The me that was

Once you’ve gone through certain shocks of life and find yourself engulfed in a domino effect of gut wrenching events that play on every emotion past and present, you tend to focus on that particular person you are then, in that moment.

Today, today I remember my true minnie me. The me before my eyes were opened to this lifes disappointments, betrayals, and chaos. The me that was innocent until she wasn’t but was young enough to remove the unsavory memory…until she wasn’t. The me that laughed, played, loved without conditions. The me that had been closest to Jesus out of all the me’s I would be, in my opinion anyway.

That me. I love her. I have hated her. I’ve learned from her. She hid from some of my lessons. Rightfully so. Who wants to learn when there’s Sesame Street and strawberry ice cream. Which the me now rather not have in my choice of desserts. Just a fun fact.

Back to her.

That me took some hits in her lifetime, as well I should say. Hits she was able to suppress. Hits that scared her at night. Hits that made her ponder about many things, most of which came from an innocent inquisitive place. Hits that eventually forced her to hide deep within. She even experienced hits that, looking back now, this me, am so grateful for having been one in which Jesus turned back for.

The enemy had and still has his own plans for me. That, well she learned that fact too. But she, she was so bright. She shared some of that brightness with me, this me. She was so fierce…in the beginning. Not this mask of strength and authority. She, she knew Jesus on a whole other level. He loved, loves, love her so. He granted her flying rights. She soar most nights.

As I write this I feel His presence and I’m flooded with the exact love and emotional tie between them. He actually….She flew. I flew. I fly again. What a connection they had and I now possess, that minnie me and He.

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Like I said I am grateful. She probably would have a better more colorful word. Hahaha.

But I am. Just so grateful he returned for me…this me that was once she. He loved me then, through, and even now.

You too. He loves you too. Oh so much.

Continue reading “The me that was”

Did I somehow know?

I was about nine or ten.

She kissed me and said goodbye.

As I watched her from the porch, a few strides closer to her destination, I had the biggest urge I’ve ever felt and could ever remember to this day to yell out I love you to someone, to her. I did. Turning her head back as she adjusted her work purse, she replied back, “I love you too honey.” We smiled at each other and she disappeared into the hedges that blocked the remaining few houses from that angle.

Perhaps it was the hue of the early morning light or the way that dawn sky created a somber atmosphere in the eerie time of morning but as I closed the door quickly behind me to grab a glimpse of her in the front window, leaving pass those prickly hedges, tears ran down my eyes like someone caught up in the emotions conjured up in a movie.

There was no premise for the tears or the overwhelming feeling of abandonment I felt. My mother would be back after work, per usual, later that evening. By that age I knew enough about myself to know that this was too emotional even for me.

I love you. I love you too honey. Tears. Really?

Could it be I was overly swept with emotion or could it be that even then my inner self knew she wouldn’t be with me as long as I’d like in this life? I thought those things to myself, even then, not about loosing her in the future the way it happened of course, but being overly emotional and why I felt so strongly about her just then. Did I somehow know?

I never told her about the tears that escaped me. I wonder if she would think me emotional or connected to her inner spirit as I did?

 

Sink or Swim

There’s something to be said about feeling like a fish out of water. I recently had that experience and today it reminds me of a time back then where I had to sink or swim. It relates to my last post https://wordpress.com/post/piecesofgoretty.blog/225 where I discussed being stripped.

There I was no one to turn to and no place to live in a matter of days, engulfed in grief and pain, blindly living out my days in as close to mummy like as I could to avoid facing my…me. I was a fish out of water and I either had to…Exactly. Sink or swim.

I made my own plans and attempts at getting my situation under control, which to me meant finding a place to rent, have it be it an efficiency. I had finally landed a job I believed I would stick to for a while. Actually, in those days, I had no choice. Anyway, none of my “plans” passed the reaching of a day-to-day get through it kind of life mantra goal.

Thank God, He had his own plans.

Psalms 46:1 God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.

…I had to eventually learn how to swim God’s way. That sometimes meant getting out of His way…and my own.

Being stripped

It became harder and harder to look at myself in the mirror and recognize anything I liked in the reflection before me.

Today I realize that I was being stripped. Stripped of loved ones, sense of security, my dignity, and so much more. Then came the point when I was stripped of a place to lay my head at night.

Unforeseen circumstances “forced” friend/roommates to break our lease. They had their backup set up but I, well I had to figure it out. This lead to being stripped of that friendship, the last from the place I escaped. In hindsight, it was a dysfunctional friendship anyhow.

What a feeling that was. No mom, no family around, no friends, no home.  The feeling of betrayal, embedding itself deep beneath my inner skin, coursed through me with every breath. The tides had to turn and soon before I could no longer recognize myself completely. My circumstances felt too powerful for me to handle. The me I was becoming could not be the me I was intended to be. But I still refused to return to the home I once knew. That home had been dismantled completely and I was in no position to put it back together. The person I was, couldn’t.

Psalm 51:17 The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

…These days I willingly sacrifice my brokenness to Him.

…These days I am oh so grateful to know He sees the me He knows me to be and not the reflection of what I had once been.

…These days I am learning to see the me He sees.