Is Your Cup Empty?

I have an assurance that God is with me. He could have let the time my mother and I get hit by a train while we sat on the tracks arguing about who was going to hold the ice cream cones. After we heard the loud, obtrusive sound of the conductor blowing his horn, there was just enough time for my mother to surge the gas peddle as the car rocked by the force of the train rushing behind.

I have an assurance that God is with me. One afternoon a dear friend and I were stuck in traffic in downtown Kalamazoo when an impatient driver soared out of a parking lot adjacent to our still vehicle doomed to hit on my side of the car. We braced ourselves for the hit. Miraculously we both saw the truck lift and stop inches from my right shoulder. The driver backed his truck from whence he came with a horrified look that equaled our own.

I have an assurance that God is with me. Thinking that I found true love in a man with false intentions I could have walked the streets of Chicago selling my body headed for regret and possible death. Prostitution was not Papa’s plan!
Why am I not held hostage to the residue of bad decisions, failed relationships and immature idiosyncracies?
I know that an indwelling invisible power lives within me. I have ignored it and denied its commanding voice many times. Times that quickly could become “I should have,” “I could have,” or “I wish I had.” No matter what foolishness I succumbed to divine power waited for me to use it.
I’ve accomplished trophies for dog training, traveled to other countries, earned two academic degrees, enjoyed entrepreneurship, just to name a few attempts toward success.
I can’t strive and push anymore. The world and its allure advertise many possibilities as avenues for achievement, but nothing I do has quieted the demand calling me to surrender. My accomplishing one more great idea will not satisfy the passion that haunts my soul.
I have lived 6 1/2 decades. I have no more steam to be the greatest, the best, or the most improved. What I do have the passion for is listening and waiting for divine direction. It is a much slower process to surrender, let go and follow divine power. I have peace and happiness in my inner being because in this inmost place I am not alone. I want the living water that Jesus told a woman she could have, and she had five husbands!. I want the peace that transcends all my understanding. I want to trust my Papa Divine and acknowledge him in everything I do and say and think. Papa promises to give me the desires of my heart if I seek him first.
I’m giving up control and letting go of what I want. No more resisting, rebelling, I will not take one step backward!

I hear the voice saying. . .

My Child, I am dwelling with you.
You won’t discover My power or complete your calling if you try and build your life on your accomplishments. I have handpicked you to refresh a world that is wandering around in a dry and thirsty land. I will show you how to bring them living water and lead them to the real love.
Oh, friends of mine, is your cup half full or is it empty? Whatever it is, let’s raise them up and walk with a purpose!

Peace.

Move Forward With power!

 

We are approaching the end of another year where we look back and look forward one more time. I am very good at looking back. I will continue to share stories with you that reflect life lessons. Now, its time for me to get serious. I am ceasing to tell myself that I am a late bloomer.

I am blooming!

I have decided that its time to create my future as a writer. It’s time for all my writing projects and my vision of a prosperous published writer to live.
I have written in a journal since I was fifteen. Writing on my blog every day is my first goal. I once had a high school math teacher who sat me directly in front of his desk as punishment for daydreaming out the window, but I couldn’t stop.
As I pursue the art of writing memoir, I have learned that deliberate, conscious daydreaming is necessary for my creativity. I am learning how to focus the power of my mind on the thoughts and beliefs that will help my success.

I am learning that imagination is the beginning of creation. William Arthur Ward shared, “If you can imagine it, you can achieve it. If you can dream it, you can become it.” I believe that our thoughts have creative energy. I began to use my mind when I woke up one morning 31 years ago and decided to live my life half full instead of half empty. At that moment I decided that I would not let Multiple Sclerosis and Spondylolisthesis defeat me. I would conquer both with positive thoughts that develop an ability to overcome disability. That meant not fighting it or denying it but realizing my limitations and being empowered by them. My natural power of imagination energized me to name my MS as MORE STRENGTH and that it is. I like to write about coping with the gift of MS because without it I would not know Jesus so profoundly. I would not have met so many beautiful people in Holland, Grand Rapids, and Kalamazoo, Michigan. I believe the opportunities that presented themselves through three decades became positive channels in my personal development and my leadership in the Church.

As I learn to visualize my dream as an authorpreneur creatively, my thoughts will take on physical reality. Creative visualization has been my default ever since I was a child. Now I can move forward with confidence that dreaming of becoming what I will be is who I am.

Let us all let the past stay there and move forward into the new year with power!

When He Called My Name

Last week my niece asked me an exciting question,
“How did your trials lead you to the Lord?”

My spiritual journey began in March 1975; I was frantically trying to figure out why did male relationships start with utter devotion and soon end in traumatic disclosure?
One of my favorite places to buy books was the Michigan News Agency in downtown Kalamazoo. I discovered a book that I thought had the answer to my dilemma. The title flashed at me like a neon sign,

THE SECRET TO STAYING IN LOVE.

During the week I started reading, my mother calls me every day pleading with me to go to a revival at her church. Attending church was not a part of my life especially not on a Tuesday! She calls me again on Friday afternoon. I am deeply involved in reading the book, going to work every day and waiting for a phone call from a guy who promised to take me to Chicago. He said together we could make a lot of money. I was naive and did not realize his intention. He was a pimp.
The words of the book were not about how to keep a man. The author wrote about unconditional love that I could receive at no cost. I am inspired. I want my girlfriend to read it. I wanted her to experience this beautiful thing happening to me. Something inside my inner being was drastically changing.
When my mother called the third time, I gave up waiting for the phone call and went to church. I went to a revival on a Friday night!
We get to the church, and I am nervous. The preacher stands tall and distinguished. He speaks of the same unconditional love I’m reading in the book. I am awestruck. My mother hands me a Bible. I can’t hold back big crocodile tears silently rolling down my cheeks. I am ready to go home.
On the way out the door, a deacon stopped me, “Did you enjoy the service?” I said I enjoyed hearing about love. I hoped he couldn’t tell that I was trembling. “Would you like to hear more? My mother stood with a twinkle in her eye so I agreed to join him and the pastor in his study. The pastor opened a bible and showed me in Scripture why God loved me. He asked me did I believe that Jesus died for my sins. I felt a strange sense of urgency as if God is pulling me out of a long dark mire. I have to reach up and grab the hand that is saving me. On March 10, 1975, I said Yes Jesus come into my heart!

I wrote this poem as a love offering unto the Lord.

You Were There
I was drowning
You with there Lord
reaching for my heart
I didn’t see you
through all the disappointing love affairs
physical abuse, emotional fears
self-affliction, self-destruction
You with there Lord
reaching for my hand
I couldn’t see you
I  gave you just a little
keeping the rest
for myself
Club on Saturday night
church on Sunday
unless I brought
someone home
then Monday was back
to self-condemnation and guilt
by Tuesday I might
call for prayer
Confession.
I thought about it
by Wednesday
my rationale was
winning
he called me
he loved me
he said
I was beautiful
I felt good again
being with me
that’s all I needed
so by
Thursday the plan
was in motion
I’d spend Friday
deciding on my image
telling my girls
laughing about
how fine he was
I’d forgotten the
pain, the sin
Saturday I would rise
to the wardrobe
and plan my disguise
I was the master, you know
but you with there Lord
shielding me
hovering all around me
saving me from myself

as Saturday night came and went
Sunday morning
rang church bells
in my ears
each new day’s sunshine
called me to my knees
until finally I
heard your voice
call out my name
my child, my child
come unto me
I will give you rest

“And the peace of God that transcends all understanding
shall guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 4:7

Amen

Laugh With Me!

I am sitting at my desk with my bare feet touching my favorite wicker stool, and I am thinking how am I living my life as an MS survivor? That’s what my friend asked me in her critique of my writing. I wonder, have I been pretending for thirty long years? I have lived my life with courage and trust that Jesus would help me with every awkward moment in a day. And he does. I have made a deliberate effort not to burden others by complaining or giving them a list of my woes every time someone asks me how I am. If someone says, “How are you?” Unless someone genuinely asks I usually remain positive and thankful. I am thinking about this because my friend says others may like to hear how I am doing and how am I coping. She thinks I should write about my MS journey. She says my readers want to know me.

Every day I have different sensations that use to scare me to death, but the way I cope is to empower others to trust Jesus for their ‘tough stuff.’  The Lord tells us to comfort one another with the same comfort that he gives us, right?

There are some hilarious stories that I find comforting and have taught me to laugh. Laughter is healing. Laughing at myself is acceptance. My kids use to get so angry with me after a fall, and I would laugh. It was awkward to fall. But, I had to find a little humor to keep from crying or screaming! I learned to stop moving so fast so as not to lose my balance. Learning to laugh was one of my first steps in coping.

Here’s a ‘Funny’

I once was on a circuit singing in Reformed morning worship services in Kalamazoo, Michigan including lots of neighboring little cities in a 50-mile radius. Once when I was invited to sing at a church in Holland, Michigan, I had what should have been a most embarrassing moment. I am singing one of my favorites songs “His Eye Is On The Sparrow.” It’s a unique day with various guest pastors sitting in a row behind me on the stage. I am just about to hit one of my most potent phrases, and I suddenly feel a tug on the back of my dress. You see, before walking on the stage I went to the ladies room one last time, and because of my MS numbness in my fingers, my dress remained tucked into my pantyhose!

Those pastors sitting behind me just could not stand the sight of my exposed bottom, and so one of them courageously stepped up to the pulpit and pulled my dress over my voluptuous brown hips! Can you imagine the humility required for such a task? Primarily by a very conservative Dutch white male! I didn’t have time to be embarrassed. I couldn’t just stop and say thank you. I had proper training that when something extraordinary happens while performing you just improvise. I still smile wide when I remember this occasion. Poor Pastor. The funniest part was that I felt so sorry for the guys. I was utterly exposed because I only had on pantyhose—no underwear!
Jesus has a sense of humor, right?

Selfies

I want to tell you about why I take pictures of myself, and why I have decided that it’s a good thing. My exploration is not an expose’ on why or how to take photos of oneself.
It’s all about my quest in search for the authentic me.
It is an exploration in discovering who I am. There are some things I can change and some I can’t. I can’t reverse the wrinkles that suddenly appear overnight. I can’t change the incoming white hair (two decades ago the hairs were grey.)
When my hair was noticeably grey, my brother-in-law asked me, “Why would you dye your hair that color?” I was stunned. He couldn’t tell that the color was real. He said I was too young to have grey hair.

Honestly, I like the color.

I can’t change the deepening smile lines that seem to stretch further towards my ears with each passing year. It is good I can’t afford a facelift because when I pull the skin in front of my ears up and back, I say, “whoa, Girl you still got it going on!”
Then I do a little happy dance!
Pictures of myself achieve an inner spark of self-confidence that directs deep thoughts and highlight my mind.
I have decided to change my negative self-talk.
“You all know this sound, right?”
When I was in high school, I told myself not to think I was better than anyone. I would sometime hear girls talking in the bathroom about other girls, I mean they would be doggin’ a girl out about the way she wore her hair or what she had on that day; I would think these girls probably talked about me. I thought they were either conceited or square. I didn’t want to be like them.
Trying so hard not feel right about me created a disconnect from accepting myself.
I have come to believe that one should know how one affects others.
My Ray (husband) checks out my selfies and discards some. He is very good at defining my mood by the way I look. I miss all that if I don’t look intently at a picture.
Looking at pictures of myself help me to determine how genuine I am. I want to stop being shocked when I see me in a mirror. I am not talking about “striking a pose.”
I have been amazed what I see when I am angry, disappointed or depressed.
I want to see myself as I am. I am no longer claiming shy, self-loathing inner thoughts because that’s not who I am. I know peace; sometimes I see a pretty me other times I see fatigue or pain in my eyes. When I smile, it’s not about how good I think I look but how thankful I am to be

sassy, sexy and over sixty!

Spoken Word

SOMEWHERE

in the little

quiet spots of my mind

There is a symphony

already written

It is a Melody of love

ETCHED in shades of crimson

across my passionate heart

distant notes come closer

completing the melodious concerto

of the fruits of the spirit

love, joy, and peace, specifically

challenge my soul

long-suffering, gentleness, and goodness

pulsate a harmonious arrangement

fulfilled in faith, meekness, and temperance

Somewhere

in the little

quiet spots of my mind

There is a blending, a shading, and shaving

of my self-centered idiosyncrasies

the Symphony crescendos

my inner self-becomes naked within the

spiritual ecstasy of

. . . contentment with God

***********************************

I am lightning up a bit,  taking a break  – Sharing some Spoken Word. I have some questions to answer for one of my followers and I’ve got some thinking and praying to do before I publish my answers.

I am always

 on the journey with ya!

I Am Grown Up

I AM GROWN UP!

It is hard being me today

I am not sure what to name the imbalance I feel

I felt a different personality inside me

Was I dreaming?

She was soft, indifferent, present, filtering out all stressors, confident

suddenly I was aware that I was accepting me

and liking me

all my tensions began to fade

I fell asleep

When I woke up

she was gone

Now I am back to being hyper-intense

Worrying like I have work to do…

things to write… places to go…

I am not obligated to do any of the above

my husband keeps telling me

NO WORRIES, NO PRESSURE, NO BAGGAGE, NO SHAME

I want to throw out STUFF maybe start over with my life

can I do that? Will this help?

does this have to be a “to be continued” self-proclaimed

Inner movement toward personal achievement?

I JUST WANT TO BE ME!

I don’t want to find out ‘what I want to be when I grow up.’

ANYMORE

besides…I AM GROWN UP!

I have got to start BEING.

FROM THIS MOMENT FORWARD!!!!!

maybe I am not losing my mind

perhaps I’m finding it

 

(2012)

Behind Those Eyes!

What could our life look like if we had the power to create and shape our emotions, our self-confidence, our moods, even our abilities just with thought?

I want to answer this question for the sake of inner healing for myself and you. I am ready to continue the memory that I began on my last post two days ago.

That next morning I walked into my therapy session stunned and hesitant. As I sat in the client’s chair, my therapist asked had I ever experienced a blackout? An incident when I had no recollection of time?
A blackout would have been welcome about now so that I could bypass the next words out of my mouth.
The ‘fiery eyes’ that I wrote about were like a protective force field. I read once that when a child is traumatized, it can mentally escape the physical discomfort by imagining themselves behind a wall or underneath floorboards. Even though the eyes were frightening, they were my protection from clearly seeing my father’s faded image.
My father was my protector and the love of my life. I used to sit on his lap and smoosh the elastic skin on his hands into straight lines until he smoothed them out with a fist. He took me with him when he drove the combine to harvest corn. We had a big vegetable garden on the farm and I loved picking the potatoes out of the cold black soil as my father dug them with a pitchfork. He was a big guy, very tall and a white, black man.

My therapist began the session with a calm, relaxing tone. I was comforted by the sound of her voice. I trusted her. When she asked me to look at the eyes, I froze. My body was rigid. My hands are gripping the arms of the chair.
“See if you can make out the image.”
I knew it was my father; I just could not see his face.
I saw his white figure behind those fiery eyes coming at me with his whole body.
“What do you smell?”
I could smell his aftershave. Why couldn’t I move? I felt pressure on the tops of my shoulders. My back was against a window. I could feel the cold tile under my bare feet. Then I saw the white skin and long legs with no pants. That strange taste in my mouth returned, and I blacked out.
I woke up still sitting in the chair; my therapist asked did I see anything else before I blacked out? Yes, I did. I saw what had to have been my father’s penis, but it had a large hole on the end of it. My therapist said a child could create this kind of likeness. The image paralyzed me. I didn’t want to look anymore.
Even as I write this memory, I want to comfort myself with cookies. But I don’t have to harm myself. I know this emotion.
I don’t have to submit to its control. I can shape my emotion and choose to love me.
The old is gone. The new has come. Jesus knows my pain, my shame and he still loves me.

I am free!

…behind those fiery​ eyes!​

What could our life look like if we had the power to create and shape our emotions, our self-confidence, our moods, even our abilities just with thought? I believe it is possible because I have had to overcome obstacles by developing my feelings to celebrate living.
I hadn’t thought it was possible to shape my emotions until my niece called me a few days ago with some powerful words of encouragement that inspired me to respond to her questions regarding my December 11th  post entitled “STRENGTH”. She told me that she reads my blog! I liked hearing that. I thought about our phone conversation many times during that day. You might revisit that post to follow my response.
She wanted to know more about the horrifying dream, like why did I think I had it over and over? What made me cut off a braid of my hair and why did I suck my wrist?
I must first say her questions are the kind of feedback that I sincerely welcome., so don’t hesitate. What I found most intriguing was her observation that maybe I was not ready to disclose what was going on in-between the lines? What was I leaving out? I pray that my answers will bring you courage to face your demons, meet your weaknesses and take a step towards your healing.

I was 34 when I learned the cause of those desperate acts I fell into in my elementary years, especially cutting a whole braid off my head. During my first year of Multiple Sclerosis, I counseled with a therapist who specialized in listening to the newly diagnosed. After a year of therapy, he informed me that he would like to bring in another therapist with my consent. With the other therapist present, he tells me that in several sessions over the course of the year he witnessed extreme differences in my personality. At times my voice changed to a provocative tone and my appearance altered through my choice of clothing. During some sessions I appeared very confused and fearful, others I was confident and relaxed. The other therapist specialized in multiple personality disorders. Both therapists assured me that their methodology was to facilitate my healing in bringing the best of each part of me into one whole healthy person. I agreed to a kind of hypnosis where I chose a childhood picture to gaze on while the therapist guided me on a meditative journey in which I attempted to remember the sights and smells that the image represented. The therapist encouraged me to call immediately after each session if I recognized any new details.
One particular afternoon while washing dishes I had a sudden flash of the nightmare with the fiery eyes. It was so vivid and shocking that I sat down to stabilize myself. When I experienced a strange taste in my mouth, an image behind those eyes forced me to call my therapist. The next morning under a guided meditation the vision behind those fiery eyes began to focus.

…on the journey with ya!

THE VOICE

I am aware of a distinct voice in my head. An invisible force that silences all my good intentions AND that I refuse to let influence me.

I know the dark, seductive voice covering my promises with deception and doubt!

I hear it, SAYING…

“Go ahead; you can have just one more bite, one more drink, one more look.”

“You have already broken your promise, go ahead, you can start all over tomorrow.”

How many times have I told myself… tomorrow? When tomorrow comes, and I let the LIAR seduce me, then today begins another cycle of self-degradation because I have failed again.

I went to sleep asking God to show me the root of my behavior, and I woke up rejoicing!
Today I am stepping into the light of God’s grace, and I am not turning back!

HOLD ON…

I’m on the journey with ya!