Little Bird

A month ago, I was sitting up in the balcony at The Muse in Wyndhurst. I had just gotten out my paper and pen to start what would be a painful journey: taking Moral Inventory of my life. Things that I did. Things that were done against me. All of it. Written down.

To say that I was nervous and scared and not looking forward to it would be an understatement.

I started writing and was soon distracted by the overwhelming feeling that I wanted to be far away from  where I was and what I was doing. Remember Forest Gump, when Jenny prays "God, make me a bird so I can fly far, far away from here?" That's what I wanted.

Then I saw something moving next to me and heard a noise. I wasn't sure what it was, but suppressed a scream as I convinced myself that whatever it was was going to surely kill me. Then it moved again. And chirped. And ran into the window.

A bird.

A tiny, brown bird.

A sparrow?

At any rate, the poor little guy was trying to escape through the window. Logic told me that it was impossible, that the little bird would never be able to fly out of the window. But, Little Bird didn't know it was a window. He could see through it. He could see trees and a street and the sky. But couldn't get through. He didn't know he was trapped. He thought he was free, but couldn't get to the actual freedom part. And couldn't figure out why.

As I sat and pondered Little Bird and his dilemma, I heard that Still Small Voice tell me, "Go help him."

"Um, no."

"Go help him."

"Birds are gross. I don't want to touch him. And I wouldn't know how to help him anyways. I tried to help many an injured animal when I was a child and they all died. Do you really want me to kill this creature?"

"Go help him."

"But I--"

"Go help him."

I realized that I wasn't going crazy. I pray and talk to God and have had God talk to me. It was possible that God, in this moment, wanted me to help this bird...... wasn't it?

I decided to go ahead and try to help the bird. I mean what's the worst that could happen? Then my mind thought of all the worst-case scenarios, which included screaming really loud if it flapped its wings in my face and embarrassing myself and  getting startled and falling over the rail of the balcony. Both were not ideal. So, I decided my plan needed to involve a "fall and scream prevention plan."

I got up.

I moved closer and closer. Slowly. So slowly that I felt like it was taking hours for me to get over to Little Bird.

When I finally got to the window he was flying through, I realized that I needed to be careful not to startle him, or he would fly up into the rafters and I would never be able to help him.

I raised my arms and inched closer and closer. Very slowly.

As I got closer, I closed my hands around him. His Little Bird Legs found my hand a few times and he chirped in a panic and tried to escape. But it was too late. I had made a cage out of my arms and my hands followed his movement. Closing in more and more.

When I finally got one hand on his body and trapped on wing, he had a full-fledged Little Bird Panic Attack. Although I was talking to him, he didn't know that I was trying to help him and was instead trying to protect himself from me.

I used my second hand to fold his free wing up close to his body. And I just held him for a second.

I turned his body so I could look him in the eye.

And that when it happened. I felt his entire body relax as he surrendered to me.

I was powerful enough that I literally could have crushed him in my hands. And he knew that. But, I was there to help him be set free. So, I just stroked his head for a moment and said, "Okay, Little Bird, let's go get freedom."

I walked carefully down the stairs and noticed for the first time that the entire cafe was silent. They were all watching me and Little Bird.

I shook off my embarrassment and made it to the door. I released my grip on Little Bird and he paused for a second before flying out of my hands. I haven't seen a bird happier to be free.

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I made it back up to my seat and sat down, processing what just happened and why on earth God cared so much about a bird that He told me to help it. Then I realized that I was the bird.

How many times have I thought I was free, but couldn't understand why I wasn't experiencing freedom?

How many times have I fought God, as if He hunting me down to destroy me?

How many times have I struggled against His grip before I ultimately surrendered to Him?

Freedom for the bird was something it never would have experienced on its own. It would have had to fly down in the middle of the cafe, towards people and go out a door on the complete opposite side of the building. Because of Little Bird's instinct to flee people, it never would have been able to be set free on its own. It needed help. It needed to surrender to my hand so I could free it.

I picked up my pen again a changed woman, willing to let God walk me through these extremely painful parts of my life for the sake of freedom.

Laying it Down

I am single.

I have come close to getting married, but haven't actually made it down the isle in the white dress.

I have never been a parent.

I have taken care of children, but at the end of the day I always give them back to their parents.

And yet God is asking met to step into becoming a foster parent to teenage girls.

He is asking me to lay down my independence, my "All the Single Ladies" attitude that somehow entitles me to live me life mostly for God, but still protecting this little section that is only for me. And up until now I have been able to do that with no consequence (other than a pile of laundry and boring chores that aren't getting done). Because up until now, it really didn't matter. Up until now,  I was responsible for only myself.

This part of it is scary. The season before I actually do anything. It took me a month to fill out and mail the application. But, the time is here. In a week and a half, I will begin training. I will begin the process.

I will step into the world of becoming something that I never would have thought for myself.

A single mom.

And through the fear and all the manymany question marks that float through my head, I hear this confident voice. God is saying to me, "Yes. This is the thing that you need to be pressing into. Keep moving. I will tell you what to do next."

And I read passages that guide me.  

"Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds."

In order for new life to happen, I must sacrifice. I need to lay down this life that I so pride myself in. This single life. I need to allow God access to all the areas of my life. All of them. Not just the ones that I want Him to see. But, I need to expose the hidden areas too. I need to allow Him to do a work in me so that I may die. So that I may literally lay down the life that I live in order that new life may spring up.

And as this new life springs up, God will guide me on how to love these sweet girls that just need a home, a place to be safe. A place to learn how to be loved. A place to learn how to love back.  

All this, I am willing to do because He first did that for me. It was God who first sacrificed His life for me. And after He died, He adopted me. He took me into His fold and has been teaching me what it means to be safe. And what it means to be loved. And what it means to love back.

And now it's my turn to give that to someone else.

More Than a Father

I have struggled for as long as I can remember believing that I had love from a father. It's not that my father didn't love me. I believe now, as an adult, that he loved me as best as he could. There were just gaps, and unfortunately those gaps created hurt and pain. And eventually led to my belief that I did not have his love.

When I stepped into a new relationship with God last year, I finally allowed myself to be loved by my Heavenly Father. I finally allowed myself to belong. I think that at some point in time, I had given up hope that feeling cherished and cared for and pursued by a father was possible for me. Oh, how wrong I was.
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It's been two years since my father passed away. This has been a hard season of me processing through grief
and just allowing myself to feel the absence of my father, while knowing that God will use my pain for His glory and ultimately heal those areas that I allow to be exposed.

I think the biggest area that I have felt my father's absence is with my car problems. If you know me, you know all about my Jeep. You can hear it coming from down the street. It's not pretty, has had manymany issues over the years, but it has kept running.

Maybe it seems silly to you, but you have to understand that my father's love was often expressed in practical, manly ways. It never failed that I received a flashlight, fuel injector fluid and a nail/screw set for Christmas. Every. Year.

He was just the practical type. Sometimes it bothered me, but sometimes I found it endearing. He always reminded me to get my oil changed. He always bugged me to keep my car clean and checked my tire pressure. He always checked my fluid levels and kept everything topped off.
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When I returned to Virginia this summer, it was clear that my Jeep was barely hanging on. Honestly, it's been barely hanging on for the past few years. But, the noises coming from the Beast were a little alarming. So, the search started and the pennies began being saved.

Only hours after I looked at my budget and shot up a "I'm not quite sure how this is going to work out, so I really need you" prayer to God, I was contacted by a woman who told me that God had put me on her heart and she wanted me to nanny fairly regularly. When I shared with her that I had just been praying for God to provide more of an income for a car, she mentioned that they had one for sale.

It turned out that they were going to ask for about $2,000 for the car. Very reasonable, considering that it was a 2000 Camry with only 136,000 on it. But.... It would take me months to be able to afford it, and they were wanting to sell it within a month and a half. So, I just told them I would let them know, but not to hold it for me.

About a month later, I got a text from the wife. This is how it went down. God talked to her husband in his private prayer time. He told this man that I needed a new car and to sell it to me for whatever I could afford. I was blown away. I cried (obviously) and told her I would think about it. That night, I texted her the amount I could reasonably afford within the next few weeks ($800). Then she responded by dropping another $200 off the amount.

So, just to recap:

I talked to God.
God talked to the wife.
The wife called me to nanny.
I told her I needed a car (in a casual conversation).
They told me they wanted 2k for it (it was worth $2,600).
I told them I'd think about it (aka blew them off).
Time passed.
God talked to the husband (I found out this was a repeated thing until he eventually told his wife).
The husband talked to the wife.
The wife talked to me.
I calculated and told the wife (this was based on the amount i thought I could sell my Jeep for).
The wife responded by dropping more money (this, she said, was after much prayer again).

So, this whole time, I was feeling super encouraged by God. How many fathers would negotiate the price of a car down to a price that their daughter could afford? Probably tons of them. But, how many fathers would be able to negotiate the price and have it dropped from $2,600 to $600. None. That's right. None. Why? Because God is able to do so much more than our earthly fathers. It's in His nature. It's part of who He is. He is above all things. He is WAY bigger than the cost of a car.
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When I went to pay for the car and get the title signed over, I had money in the bank to pay for the car (another thing God did in an amazing way). I took my checkbook in the house and as I was writing the check out, the husband told me, "Hey, just make the check out for $1.00."

"What?"
"Yeah, just make the check out for a dollar. If that's okay. I just kept praying about it and felt like God wanted us to just give you the car."

Once I regained the ability to move, I wrote the check. I expressed my gratitude and left in shock.

Here's the thing that I didn't realize until a few days later (with the help of my mentor): God chose to give me this car at a specific time. I've needed a new car for years. I've been searching for years. I've tried to get second jobs and failed. I've begged and pleaded for help, believing that He would help me when it was the right time. But it was in this season, as I approached my father's birthday and the anniversary of our last few conversations and ultimately the anniversary of his death, that I needed my Heavenly Father the most.

It was in these moments when my heart ached and the what-ifs clouded my head that I needed to be reminded that there was a Heart to which I belonged. And that Heart would anticipate my every emotion, my every move. And those emotions and actions would be coupled with His actions of love and compassion. And I know now, two years later, that if I had never lost my father I wouldn't be able to experience God in this way. God has unveiled my eyes to show me that because my father passed away, I am able to have a unique relationship with my Heavenly Father. How amazing is that?

Love and compassion.

In a way that exceeds anything that I could ever ask Him for.

In a way that exceeds anything that I could ever imagine.

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." (Ephesians 3:20-21)

The Bully

Last week, someone was in my apartment while I was getting dressed. Every article of clothing I put on, they would comment.

"You shouldn't wear that. It makes you look fat."

"Pull your skirt down a little bit. I don't like how your knees look."

"That doesn't fit you like you used to. You shouldn't have stopped working out. Now you look frumpy and unattractive."

"That color makes your skin look weird. Why did you waste your money on that sweater?"

Finally, I was able to find an outfit that both I and this person were satisfied with.

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Then, came the hair and make-up.

"Your eyelashes are too short. You need better mascara."

"Don't wear eyeliner. You look like you're trying too hard."

"You should get those eyebrows waxed! They are SO not feminine. But, that makes sense, since you're not much of a lady."

"Dreadlocks? What were you thinking?!? That was such a mistake!"

"Your bangs look weird. You should swoop them the other way. Better yet- why do you even have bangs? They don't make you cool, just so you know..."
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Then, I looked at myself from all angles, trying to figure out what other people would think when they saw me. But, it didn't matter. The person that was standing next to me let me know what other people probably thought. It wasn't pretty.

I'll spare you this part, because it just got downright catty and nasty. And, to be honest, I don't really feel like reliving that on my blog.

I never stood up for myself. I never talked back. I just listened and accepted their words. I felt defeated and hurt; scarred and slightly humiliated. I can't explain why I never stood up for myself. Maybe the words are too familiar. Maybe I've grown accustomed to just taking it.

When I finally got in my Jeep and the other person had strapped into the seat next to me, I was on my way. Fully insecure, fully taking in this person's words, fully believing them.

Does this make you angry? Does it upset you that I would just take it? That I would believe the toxic words? That I would let it internally affect me? That I would take their words with me, strapped to my back like a L.L. Bean school bag? That I would slowly let their words become the filter that defined how I saw myself?

Don't be mistaken: This person has been abusing me for a long time. With words. Harsh. Blunt. Cruel. No feelings spared. Crippling in most social situations.
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Now for the truth: I am this person. I am this abusive person that judges everything about myself: My laugh, my teeth, my eyelashes, my glasses, my body. Every move I make, I critique myself. Harshly. "Don't laugh that loud. You'll draw attention to yourself." "Don't slouch; it makes you look fatter." "Don't sing too loud; you're off key."

The list goes on and on. And this is what I know: I am not alone. Women and men alike. We all abuse ourselves.

I didn't realize until last week when I was having lunch with a dear friend what I do to myself. We were talking about the abusive thoughts we have about ourselves and the analogy popped into my head of being bullied.

Recently, I was bullied by a literal person. Someone who thought they knew what they were up against. There were manymanymany things I wanted to say to this person, to tear them apart verbally. Although I did say some things that I wish I could take back, the majority of what I wanted to say, I refrained. I tried to be careful with my words.

Several times, I had to stop and pray. Were my words glorifying God? Was it my place to take them down? Was it my job to seek justice? One thing was clear: it's best not to fight dirty. I kept my head high. I stood up for myself. I felt proud that I didn't dissolve into a puddle like I did when I was bullied as a child.

But, now a thought occurs to me: Why do I bully myself? Why do I quickly "Oh NO you DIDN'T" when a person verbally attacks me, but I take abuse from myself??
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I don't have all the answers. But, I do know this: God has been super intentional about showing me who I am to Him. I have been so focused on not letting other people's words affect me. Maybe it's time I started silencing the voice inside myself too. Maybe it's time to look at myself in the mirror and use God's Word to build me up, the way I would for a friend.

How does this resonate with you? Do you find yourself picking yourself apart until there's nothing left?

We're a Catch

In the last 10 or so years of my life, I have dated a good number of men. Some were mistakes. Some were good relationships that just didn't work out; they weren't meant to be.

But, here I am. 31. Still single.

I've gone "back to the drawing board" more times than I want to think about. I have reevaluated my standards and my "list" so many times that there is nothing left to examine. I have also cried and screamed and been extremely frustrated with this one thought that keeps lingering.

Why do men keep "throwing me back?"

You know those fish that people catch and deem not quality enough to keep? Because they are too small, or female instead of male or the wrong type of fish.

Thrown back.
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This all changed a few days ago.

I was having a conversation with a good married friend about dating and at the end of the conversation, he added, "You're a catch."

I thought that he was talking about a specific guy we had been discussing, so I responded, "What? He's a catch?"

"No. You're a catch."

I felt a little uncomfortable, since I can't remember a time when anyone has told me that. But, hours later, God opened my eyes and the words sunk in. What truth!! I am a catch! I am someone worth keeping. Not throwing back, but keeping.

This is true for all of us. We are all catches. We all have qualities that are worth getting to know. We all have characteristics that will benefit someone's walk with God. And while I don't believe in soul mates or "the one," I do believe that we should all be looking for someone that we feel would add to us (and us to them).
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Let this sink in: God looks at you and He sees beauty. He sees His handiwork- His craftsmanship. He sees qualities of Himself. The freckles. The curly hair. The big feet. The awkward words. The clumsy movements. The bad posture. All of it. He sees all of it, and adores every last bit. He made your body and personality and brain. And He loves it. He adores it.

The next time you have a chance, look in the mirror. And not in the hurried, I-don't-like-how-I-look glance.

Take a long look.

And remember.

You're a catch.

The One About Emotions

If you have known me for more than 5 minutes, you will probably learn without me saying anything that I am a sensitive person. I have a high level of empathy, sometimes taking on the emotions of others. I also can be affected by situations with more severity than others. And sometimes, embarassingly enough, I lose complete control of said emotions and become that person.

"That Person"

You know that person that I am talking about. That person kind of freaks out about things that maybe they don't need to freak out about. That person deals with their emotions in an unhealthy way. Sometimes drinking or overeating or punching something/someone or breaking a lamp or road raging are involved. That person needs to get a grip. On Jesus. Like, for real.

Don't miss what I'm saying. I am that person. We are all that person at some point in time. But, sometimes I feel like I am that person more often than I am a holy vessel of God.

Sometimes, I feel like I run to ice cream or an ice cold soda before I run to God.

Sometimes, I feel like I may think that I am showing people who God is when really, I am showing them who I am. You know.... that person.
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This weekend, my Grammy fell down. She shattered and dislocated her poor, 84-year-old wrist. It was so sad! While she was in surgery, I had a lot of down time. I took that time to send my friend some encouragement from a study that I did on JOY. It was like this whole intricate word/usage-in-the-Bible/how-does-it-apply-to-me study. I got a lot out of it last year when I was terribly struggling with depression. In fact, I wrote an entire series on depression. You can find it here.

As I was reading what I wrote, so much stuck out to me. Not like a memory, but like a, "I don't remember writing that, but wow, does it resonate with me now" feelings. I realized then that so much of what God has been teaching me this last year has been a build-up. He was teaching me, even when I hadn't let myself belong to Him. He was guiding me, even when He knew I wouldn't obey. He was rallying my heart for one purpose: to know Him in a deeper way.

You're probably all, "Be quiet and tell me the thing that you read!"

Okay! Stop yelling!

Ready?

Here it is:

Psalm 51:10-12

“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from  your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

The Greeks feared emotions because they sought permanent balance. Hebrews take a different track. Emotions are the fodder of choice. I can let them drive me or I can coral them in the service of the King. Once, David allowed his emotions to carry him far from his King. Now, he seeks restoration and emotion is the train he rides to reach his goal.”

This is that part that gets me..."While no emotion is permanent, every emotion can draw us toward [God] or push us away. We are at liberty to choose.” (taken from http://www.skipmoen.com/)

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So, you're telling me that I in the middle of my raw emotions and freak-outs, I still have a choice what I do with those feelings? Yes.

So, if I'm depressed and I want to eat a whole container of ice cream because I feel like I deserve it, then I can stop myself before I even start? Yes.

So, if my husband/boyfriend/dad has just made me feel like crap again and all I want to do is drink, I can like.... not drink? Yes.

People, I have a choice. You have a choice. We all have a choice. And, it is possible to glorify God in the middle of what we are feeling. My friend shared with me that we can be angry/sad/depressed/etc. We are human and we have feelings. But, we (and I'm talking to myself too) need to train ourselves to stop and ask God, "What do You want me to do with this feeling?"

Believe this: He. Will. Tell. You.

He will.

He wants us to come to Him in our hour of need. He wants us to draw near to His heart. He wants us to draw from his strength and energy. He wants to fill us up so that we can handle what He has allowed in our lives.

He wants us.

He wants you.

He wants me.

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What about you? How do you deal with your emotions? Are you that person too?

Growing and Growing and Growing...

 When I moved back to Ohio a little more than a month ago, I didn't think that I would be farming. In fact, if my mom had said, "Hey! Let's dig up dirt and plant things! Then we can eat them later!" I would have laughed.

Well, I'm officially an urban farmer.

My mom had an idea to start a pallet garden, which basically means instead of tilling the ground and planting seeds, you create a series of small raised-beds from old pallets and plant your crop in the slats.

Maybe because of my love of pallets, or maybe my sudden desire to be more productive with my time, I quickly agreed and hopped on the tailwinds of her excitement.


 I collected manymany pallets (okay, like 10 or so) and we got our garden-planning-hats on. Three kinds of lettuce/leafy veggies. Two kinds of zucchini. Beans. Peas. Watermelon. Pumpkins. Tomatos. It's all happening in our backyard.

Because I have a very limited income, and wanted to help my mom be as resourceful as possible, I talked her into starting seedlings indoors in cardboard tubes. We incubated them in a clear storage container and once their roots began pushing past the bottom of the tubes, looking for more soil, I transplanted them to containers.
 I've always had a blacker-than-black thumb. Like, I would bring a plant home and it would die of fright, just knowing that I was responsible for it. I am just not good at taking care of something that can't tell me when it's hungry! Fish. Lizards. Plants. They all die.

So, I was pleasantly surprised when one, two, three then four little buds started peeking above the soil. I actually teared-up a little bit.

Once the had graduated to their containers, they really started to flourish!
 This week, we will be putting our tiny little, adorable seedlings into the ground. We have the pallets prepped with weed-control fabric to keep the soil from leaking out the bottom and sides and we are excited!

My goal is to harvest seeds from each item the plants produce. That way, we can save even more money next year!

Another project we are doing is planting a Sunflower Fort. If you have never seen one of these amazing things, check out this link. It's every country girl's dream come true! So what if I live in the city. It's happening!!!

I've felt really motivated to try to create a relaxing, refreshing backyard for my mom to enjoy. Who knows what relationships it will help build with those around us!

As I've been spending more and more time outside, I have felt myself more motivated. I've felt empowered. I feel like I'm able to do more than I've given myself credit for in the past.

I think that some women have the mindset that they are less-than. And once we meet our "other half," we are able to be productive and live full lives. I have been in that camp of people before. What I have found over the years is that I actually feel more confident when I'm single than when I'm seriously dating someone.

I'm not sure exactly why that is, and I'm not sure the "why" is important. The cool thing is that because I'm single now, I find myself pushed to accomplish things that otherwise my "other half" might do for me. And in these moments of independence, I feel strong and smart and a different kind of joy.

So over the next few months, as I establish spots of peace and tranquility here in New Rome, I am excited to see what God has for me. And my mom. And our neighbors.

For those of you who are interested in a more detailed update of what is going on here in Ohio, please email me at cardigan.sweater1@gmail.com.