A few months ago someone I really admire told me I was living a beautiful life. At the moment I wanted to slap her. My life was far from beautiful. I was struggling with my past, facing it finally but I would face it by day and smother it with food by night. I wanted to face the pain but when I did it hurt too much. And that's just what was going on then we won't even delve into the past that brought me to that point.
Life has been a struggle this year, far from beautiful. Yet every time I see this friend she reminds me I am beautiful and I think about my beautiful life. I have sorta taken back my life this year... taken it back from anti-depressants, shame, loneliness, pill popping. Then, I reluctantly handed it back to my Father.
This is where it gets beautiful. He took it. All the pieces I had found, then, he went and found some more. He put them all together so flawlessly that it is hard to tell that I strayed from His plan, that things in my life were created by evil, that was not Him. He is Amazing. He has made a Beautiful Life.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Scars
I love scars.
It may be that I am covered in them but, I think it is something different. Growing up I was questioned about the scar on my chest a lot. I hated it then especially the nick-name I aqquired because of it ("Frankenstien-Chest" real clever for a first grader). Looking back the scar helped me out a lot. People could tell where I was coming from when I was afraid to play a contact sport or could hardly breathe after running (the first 6 mos or so).
Scars tell stories. And the bruises and scrapes that come before them show real pain. You see a 5 year old girl with a scab on her knew and you know it's been kissed a thousand times. Growing up pains are often deeper. There is no visable scar for someone who has been disowned, let down, or lied to. Yes, you can sometimes tell a woman has been wronged by a man by the way she reacts to other men. You'll never know how severe it was, how deep the hurt ran.
Scars give an opening to talk about pain. Sometimes it is uncomfortable to mentions scars. If a woman has a scar across her face or your tattoo artist is missing a hand. How do you say, "Hey where is your other arm?" and "Are you sure you don't need it to put this mark on my body?" with compassion.
I wish my big hurt had left a scar. Something to bring up the pain. Hiding it inside just isn't working and pretending it didn't happen lost it's simplicty a long time ago.
It may be that I am covered in them but, I think it is something different. Growing up I was questioned about the scar on my chest a lot. I hated it then especially the nick-name I aqquired because of it ("Frankenstien-Chest" real clever for a first grader). Looking back the scar helped me out a lot. People could tell where I was coming from when I was afraid to play a contact sport or could hardly breathe after running (the first 6 mos or so).
Scars tell stories. And the bruises and scrapes that come before them show real pain. You see a 5 year old girl with a scab on her knew and you know it's been kissed a thousand times. Growing up pains are often deeper. There is no visable scar for someone who has been disowned, let down, or lied to. Yes, you can sometimes tell a woman has been wronged by a man by the way she reacts to other men. You'll never know how severe it was, how deep the hurt ran.
Scars give an opening to talk about pain. Sometimes it is uncomfortable to mentions scars. If a woman has a scar across her face or your tattoo artist is missing a hand. How do you say, "Hey where is your other arm?" and "Are you sure you don't need it to put this mark on my body?" with compassion.
I wish my big hurt had left a scar. Something to bring up the pain. Hiding it inside just isn't working and pretending it didn't happen lost it's simplicty a long time ago.
Silence
Last night at Bible Study we discussed how Noise can be distracting, how it God speaks in silence.
So... I decided I wanted to hear God this morning. I decided last night actually.
Off to work this morning my purse is loaded with bottles and bottles of water, tons of evelopes, my lunch (some shrimp fried rice, thanks mom), my loud cell phone, and my CD face plate. Out of pure habit I shove my face plate in and start my car. Since it was disconnected it doesn't come on unless I turn it on. I go to turn it on... and then remember... Silence.
It takes about one minute for me to get to the red light at Cedar/Shepard that's when I decided: this is crazy, I am crazy. I continue driving. First, in complete silence; then, humming; and then, full out singing (with no accompaniment of course). After about two stop lights I feel guilty. Okay, God Silence. Speak. .... I said speak God. I am seriously listening. ....
This continues down Palm and halfway down Shaw. Silence, thinking, demanding God to speak to me. Then it happens.
I say (out loud), "Ashley, He's not talking to you."
I reply, "I know but, I am trying to listen and all I hear is your voice demanding Him to speak. You're so pushy."
"Well, I wouldn't have to be pushy if you would just listen in the first place."
This my friends is how I lost my mind.
So... I decided I wanted to hear God this morning. I decided last night actually.
Off to work this morning my purse is loaded with bottles and bottles of water, tons of evelopes, my lunch (some shrimp fried rice, thanks mom), my loud cell phone, and my CD face plate. Out of pure habit I shove my face plate in and start my car. Since it was disconnected it doesn't come on unless I turn it on. I go to turn it on... and then remember... Silence.
It takes about one minute for me to get to the red light at Cedar/Shepard that's when I decided: this is crazy, I am crazy. I continue driving. First, in complete silence; then, humming; and then, full out singing (with no accompaniment of course). After about two stop lights I feel guilty. Okay, God Silence. Speak. .... I said speak God. I am seriously listening. ....
This continues down Palm and halfway down Shaw. Silence, thinking, demanding God to speak to me. Then it happens.
I say (out loud), "Ashley, He's not talking to you."
I reply, "I know but, I am trying to listen and all I hear is your voice demanding Him to speak. You're so pushy."
"Well, I wouldn't have to be pushy if you would just listen in the first place."
This my friends is how I lost my mind.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
So Many Thoughts...
- Budget- Can I do it? I know I can do it. But have I accounted for everything?
- No clothes?? What? Did I just say that out loud. The thing about sharing your personal commitments/convictions is people hold you to them. Scary. No new clothes for a year.
- Why are crazy fools getting married when I haven't even had a prospect of a decent date in over a year (okay, One complete year of it was my fault but since March-nothing) My mom's mother's day request is I go on a date, seriously.
- How much money should I give to God and how much should go to savings? I know 10% is tithe but I am looking beyond that. And does the Bible say anything about a savings account, or something ancient that is comparable? Or is it a modern and unholy concept?
- Why is forgiveness something that seems to come and go in my life? I feel like I have forgiven him and then I see or hear something and I have all this rage. I know Gods not like that. I want to forgive him at this very moment I realize that he was a sick individual who was in need of a straight jacket, psychiatric help, and, mostly, God. But If I wake up after I nightmare I'll hate him and pray for him to go to hell. That's so bad... there's not even a word for that.
- Vegetarian?
Friday, May 04, 2007
There's beauty in the breakdown
How do you know you've reach the point of forgiveness? How do I know when I have really forgiven him? Is it when I don't think about what he did to me for a whole day? When I go a month with out a nightmare? When I am not afraid in a car? How do I know when I have moved on? When I can talk to a male with out my heart racing and having a panic attack?
How do I move on? I tried the whole physical going through the motions bit and that was a bust. So do I wait till I feel ready? The thing about my feelings is they are intense and almost always way out in left field.
I am scared. I think that Grace is an Amazing thing (that is obnoxiously cliche). I know that God offers grace for the things I did. And I think that him giving me grace will leave me with grace for A. I just hate where I am at it should be easy. Jesus forgives me. Jesus says love your neighbor. I should just love my neighbor not sit here late at night losing sleep over how to love my neighbor. Or wether he deserves any love. Or questioning God on why He forgives him for what he did. It's not right and it's not fair.
Don't get me started on the church "Christ dying for you wasn't fair, either" answer. I know this, I have told myself a hundred times. I just won't listen. In my head it's not that simple.
Let go...
How do I move on? I tried the whole physical going through the motions bit and that was a bust. So do I wait till I feel ready? The thing about my feelings is they are intense and almost always way out in left field.
I am scared. I think that Grace is an Amazing thing (that is obnoxiously cliche). I know that God offers grace for the things I did. And I think that him giving me grace will leave me with grace for A. I just hate where I am at it should be easy. Jesus forgives me. Jesus says love your neighbor. I should just love my neighbor not sit here late at night losing sleep over how to love my neighbor. Or wether he deserves any love. Or questioning God on why He forgives him for what he did. It's not right and it's not fair.
Don't get me started on the church "Christ dying for you wasn't fair, either" answer. I know this, I have told myself a hundred times. I just won't listen. In my head it's not that simple.
Let go...
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