I Should Be Writing Something

From a young age I loved reading and the opportunity to string words together myself onto a piece of paper. While I thought of it as fun, I never thought of it as a calling on my life. I grew up knowing who Jesus was very well, raised in church and spending regular time in Sunday school. But as I have written in a previous blog post, I experienced a lot of unkindness growing up in school. A lot of cruel words and actions were directed at me, and by the time I started changing into a young lady, my self worth was in the negative and I was depressed to the point of regularly contemplating my own death. My parents knew a guy from my dad's work who was a pastor and a professional counselor. They took me to see him and my life was saved because He got me to understand from my heart the depth of God's love for me, and that my value did not depend on what others thought. When I went to a vacation Bible school that summer, I realized I couldn't remember a time in my life that I prayed to say that I accepted Jesus as my personal savior, and I went forward at the alter and did just that. From that time forward, all I knew was that I wanted to help other people the way I was helped through the knowledge of God and how great is His love for us. I dreamed of mission trips around the world to proclaim the Gospel among the nations. I dreamed of getting myself a college degree that would allow me to change a life the way my counselor changed mine. I always had empathy for others. Surely God would use my compassion to save someone else. I enrolled into my first basic psychology class without a shadow of a doubt what my degree would be in that first semester of college. And I hated it. HATED. I hated it and the mumbo jumbo I thought my professor was teaching so badly that I dropped the class, and picked up something general instead until I could decide what on earth I was going to do with myself now. Now what would I do to change the world?

I recall very clearly one dearly loved professor that taught me during my first two years of college. He taught English and writing classes, and the classes brought back to me the joy I had experienced all through my education every time I had a chance to write anything, whether it was a book report, a poem, a biography or a short story. I got easy As on those assignments, and this professor encouraged me every time he handed me back a graded paper, telling me that it was so good and how he had enjoyed reading it. I thought back to other people I had admired over the years telling me they thought I was skilled in my writing. And it finally struck me that writing was possibly what I was meant to do. I changed my major to journalism, because at that time I believed the media had the ability to bring about positive change in the world and serve as a protection of sorts for our society. I could change the world a little bit at a time through the written word. I wanted to move to some suburb of some city and write feature stories about things that mattered for a magazine. But life rarely ever goes the way we envision it will. Just as with the original dreams of world travel and psychology degrees, I learned that God had planted different purposes within me, and that He would use the circumstances of my life to encourage people in different ways than I ever could have thought up. The man I wanted to marry and I decided that it was best to stay close to our family, who all lived right here in small town, USA. So instead of a widely circulated magazine, my job was at a local newspaper. While I hated the "hard news" stuff, because my heart hurt where someone was killed in an accident or their home had caught fire, I did love writing features about the treasures found in local communities and positive things people had done. I loved bringing light to needs that got charities and missionaries to receive checks in the mail. I felt like sometimes, having that bi-line in the paper with my strung together words was making a difference.

But when my husband and I finally had our first child, we discovered in his first year of life that parenthood wasn't going to look the way we thought it would either. We were still trying to nail down his diagnosis when I knew I had to leave my job and be his mom, therapist and teacher full time.

 Little did we know when we decided to stay here that Lucas would come along with the needs he had and every service he could possibly need would be right here in this county. We have been surprisingly well provided for when it comes to his therapy and education. I think God knew we were planted where we needed to be. But as the days were filled with all his necessary activities, my writing about much of anything came to a stop. I did get to attend local autism events and write about them on a freelance basis for a while, but then all my acquaintances at that local paper moved on to other things, autism conferences at a local college were no longer offered, and I had nothing I could write about for publication any more. When my son started kindergarten, I tried starting a blog. I wrote on it pretty regularly and then gave it up when it didn't get much of a following. I didn't see the value in putting the effort in for so few people to read it. Fast forward a few more years to dealing with my mother's illness and having a second baby, and having a minute to write more than a social media post was pretty much impossible.

Before that though, I had seen the joy of having my name in a book, and even on the cover of another. Someone I know was asking for submissions for an a book that shared stories of living with depression and perhaps overcoming it. I was so happy to share my story of how all those years ago, God rescued me, and how over the years, whenever depression came back for me, He was my way out. He always helped me have what I needed to beat it.
After that, a dear friend of mine was writing a book about the state of the church in America and asked me to help him. I was super excited and also terrified when he told me to run with a little of it largely on my own. Because there is always that inner chatter about not being good enough. But I did finish. The book was edited and published and distributed, and I have to say, receiving any royalties, small as they may have been in the scope of books published, was very cool.

This friend of mine, who knows me better than most people as he has been my spiritual mentor and like another dad to me, he often has a question for me on the occasions we got together in person.
Have you done any writing lately? And with the complete understanding that he thought I should be using my gift, I usually sheepishly said no.
When I listen to anything for personal development and hear people talking about the importance of creativity and asking me to consider the purpose I may have by thinking of what I want to create, I always feel convicted that what I want to create most is inspiration for others through written words. So again, I blog a little. For a really small crowd most of the time, anywhere from 20 to 800 max views on my posts. But I read something by a girl named Rachel Hollis recently and she said how writing was her must do also, and she said that she learned that she needed to write for herself, not for others. Write for yourself! Another podcaster and author I listen to, Emily Freeman, said the exact same thing on an episode of The Next Right Thing. She added to the sentiment that we who write or create anything need to do it for an audience of One. God. Wow, I felt the moving of the Holy Spirit trying to communicate to me that He gave me a gift and I have declined to find the time or the motivation to use it. I have had it in my heart that I need to write a book about health and all that I have learned in recent years on how to best care for our health. Some of the things I have learned were so shocking to me, and I know that the majority of people are unaware that they have the power to prevent or reverse so many of the commonly suffered with conditions that occur at such high levels in our country. But the negative inner chatter rises up every time I consider the possibility of writing my own book. I don't know how to publish it....nobody will want to....I am a nobody so nobody will pick up a book written by me....nobody cares what I have to say.....on and on and on. But for the first time ever I feel confident in telling that inner voice to shut up. I have heard the message God wanted me to receive, and I am 100 percent sure that if I have reversed an autoimmune disease through life style change alone, if it's true that maybe my mom did not have to develop dementia or even ALS, and if other people I love didn't have to stop doing all the things they once enjoyed in life because of failing health, it would be wrong for me not to tell people that. I was given a gift by God, I got the education to know how to use it, I have learned how to interview the experts on a topic and I used to do it for a living. Just because life turned out differently than expected and I am busy being a mom is no excuse not to use what I have and share my message. So this is me, promising to myself and whomever decides to skim through this, that I will spend a few minutes of every morning writing something. Because now I really see it clearly, I should be writing something.

What Would Jesus Eat? How the Answer Changed My Life

Imagine being in the places we read about in the pages of our Bible, with Jesus by your side. Day to day, did the disciples ever obsess over what they were eating, how many carbs it contained or if it had too much fat? I don't get the impression that they did. I think there were times they worried about not having enough food, since Jesus had the conversation with them in the book of Matthew about not worrying about what they would eat or wear, but to seek first God's kingdom and God would provide all those things they needed as well. Then of course there were the times they and all the people with them were hungry and Jesus multiplied what little food was present to make it more than enough for everyone. But those worries aside, I have learned that what Jesus and His followers ate was real food, locally grown, farmed or caught.

A quick Google search brought me to an article on the Dr. Oz website that talked about a book called A Year of Living Biblically, which is definitely on my want to read list. Author Al Jacobs and Dr. Don Colbert studied the Bible for nutritional clues about Jesus's diet. They said in His region of the world, lentils, whole grains, fruits, vegetables, dates, nuts and fish were readily available and quite popular. Many people ate their food raw, and with no refrigerators it was harder to eat massive amounts of meat at every meal, as we commonly do in America today. We know if we read the Bible Jesus did eat some meat, which proves to me it is morally right, however I do think God might be unhappy with the current abusive practices of factory farming. That is a post for another day, but this is why I am trying to buy more of the meats we do consume in our house from local farms who raise their animals in a humane way, the way they were raised in the early years of our planet when people in the Bible had livestock.
My point of writing today is this...eating like Jesus ate will restore health to our bodies. I am living proof. It is simple to do, although not easy, as we are bombarded with edible substances all around us that our bodies were never designed to consume. No wonder we have a spike in diseases of all kinds that are cutting our lives short or decreasing the quality of life we enjoy. But I am fully convinced that the answer to losing weight does not lie in fad diets, low carb diets or meal replacements. The answer is to eat what God made. When I drastically decreased processed foods, and seriously increased the number of vegetables I ate, the weight I could never lose finally started to come off. And even more importantly, I was cured of an autoimmune disease.

One of my heroes in the health industry is Dr. Mark Hymen. Listening to his podcast, The Doctor's Farmacy was the first thing that made me believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that I could heal from my autoimmune disease buy fixing my nutrition, and therefore fixing my gut health. The information he gave me was absolutely correct! It worked! Functional medicine is an amazing thing and I look forward to the day that it becomes more accessible in our country.
When I read the book The Daniel Plan last year, I loved it so much that I purchased the Bible study materials and videos so that I could share them with my challengers. Dr. Hymen happens to be one of the medical experts interviewed in the book and on the video series. The simplicity of something he said struck me as the real key to health. "If God made it, eat it. If a factory made it, don't." That quote has come back to my mind this year as the answer to reclaiming my health, and it is what I tried to follow most of the time that gave me success after struggling for well over a year. If God created the food, it is good to eat. Even if it has natural sugars. All those foods found in nature were designed to provide our bodies with what they need to thrive. The Daniel Plan book has scientific evidence to back up the Biblical belief that this is the best way to go. Throughout the journey of the book, we learn about everything that is needed to help us achieve and maintain good health. It has five essential categories of faith, food, fitness, focus and friends. I am so happy to be in a partnership with my coach, Andrea, as we agree that we have the same heart for teaching people about health as a result of faith in Jesus Christ. We both know that the only way to achieve lasting freedom and peace in every area is through a relationship with Him. As I have just shown, the answer to everything you need to know can be found in the pages of the Bible, including the healthiest diet. I would be so happy to have you dive into this amazing Bible study with us, starting at the end of this month in an online group. Consider this your invitation to join! Ask me for details and let's dive in to our best lives together.

A Tale of Two Apples

Death and life are in the power of the tongue....Proverbs 18:21


Whoever guards his mouth and tongue keeps his soul from troubles. Proverbs 21:23


We hear these messages and more like these in the Bible but do we really take them to heart? Or do we even believe they are truth? Do words really matter THAT much? I have often said my mouth gets me in trouble, but growing up, I actually prided myself in having the last word, whether is was a good word or not. I had to be able to be right. Now I know, as an adult, that I have done years of damage by speaking the wrong words and thinking the wrong thoughts.

For as a man thinks in his heart, so is he... Proverbs 23:7

Let me take this a step further and have us consider whether or not our words said over time have become the truth about our lives. What we fear, what we SAY we fear, and ruminate on or worry about....have those things ever come to pass in your life, after keeping your mind parked on that place? I won't go into details about what issues this has been the case for me, but I will just say that it has happened to me. And I have become what some of my limiting beliefs about myself said I was too. I thank God for showing me clearly that the power to change things lies with me. If you don't believe that our words have power to bring about good or bad, I am about to show you shocking visual proof.
Take a look at these two random apples, both taken from the same bag bought at the store, having been in our house for the same amount of time, and I will tell you a story about these two apples.

They look the same in this picture, do they not? Well it happened that a dear friend of mine and I had been talking about the power of our words and the importance of speaking life and love over every situation, instead of negativity and complaint. She told me over lunch once that a friend of hers had written words on two pieces of fruit. On one, life and love, and words like that. On the other, words like hate and death and curse words that are commonly said in our culture. And she put them away. My friend relayed to me that one piece of fruit, the one with the life giving words on it, stayed in perfect condition. The other, with the words of death on it, rotted through! What? Seems unbelievable but I DID believe her. I agreed that words have more power than we know. Then not long after that, this friend made a social media post about two jars of cooked rice in which the same thing was done. The jar of rice weeks later that had beautiful words written on it still looked like rice. The jar with the hateful words on it rotted to the point of being brown liquid! Both had the same amount of rice and the jars had been tightly sealed. I decided to try this for myself. Some people I know told me they did not believe anything would happen. I honestly was unsure of what was going to take place but I tried it. On one apple, I wrote words of love and life. 

The Work

As I take a look at everyone's children in their perfectly posed first and last day of school pictures, that show only their physical growth, I know that each child has grown in so many ways that can't be seen with the eyes. Each child has learned new things in their own way and hopefully grown in spirit, becoming one year closer to the person God sees them becoming as an adult. My own child's schedule works differently than most, and he will attend summer school. His growth appears way differently than most children too. Lately I have had to remind myself to look for it, and not let it be lost in what has not yet come to be. As I try to snap pictures of my own moving 12 year old, who does not pose for photos, as he gets off the bus on the last day before his week long break, I think it's time to share the part of his story that came to light for me recently. It's a piece that nobody knows about and some of it I will not be proud to tell, but in the end, it's a signal of hope for the future. And if I can inspire another parent like me to know that it is never too late and we should never give up no matter how many times we have to start over, then the story needs shared. I say this knowing that not many will click on this little blog and read it. But I have been prompted by the Holy Spirit to share my thoughts when I can, and the ones that He gives to me, because there has to be one other person who needs them. It makes it worth the effort.
(Note: even if you don't believe in God, if you are a special needs parent I hope you keep reading what I learned. I just can't leave God out of our story because He has been the biggest part of it.)
Speaking of the Holy Spirit, I remember hearing from Him clearly when Lucas was a baby.

It was months after my joy had been so complete in finally becoming a mom. It was what I had wanted to be most. And it took a while. I had a heartbreaking loss of a pregnancy first. So when my baby boy was born healthy, I experienced the happiest day of my life. Albeit the most painful. Until the day when I realized my baby was not a typically developing baby. When there was no denying that he wasn't going to be doing things in life the way I envisioned when I first held him or even felt him moving in me and didn't know if he was a boy or girl. You know, I just thought he would be like most kids. And it hurt to see that he wasn't. So as we started the long diagnostic process we took him forward in the little church we attended then during a healing service, where people were invited to come forward, have the pastor and others in the church lay their hands on you and pray for healing, as the Bible tells us to do. I wanted a miracle for my son. I wanted the kind of miracle where Jesus spoke and things instantly happened. He spoke and gave sight and made lame people walk and freed them from demon possession and even raised them from the dead. Right away. And I know that those miracles still happen today when we pray in His name. But God spoke to my heart that day, even as we were in the middle of our prayer for Lucas, and He told me that was not the type of miracle I was going to get. Although I have had my days when I still struggle to see it, the miracle God promised we WOULD receive was better. He said to me that day in front of the alter that Lucas would do well in his life and succeed, but it wasn't going to happen instantly like I asked. God said I would have to put in the work, because it was in the work that God would be glorified. I felt peace about it in that moment and I accepted God's answer. And from that day forward Lucas got everything he ever needed to help him do his best. We have certainly seen small miracles happen every day.

But here comes the part I hate to admit. The last two years have been different. And I have come to realize that my attitude had changed and I had stopped believing for the best. It started as my son approached his tenth birthday. I became depressed as we entered the double digits years, because I didn't think that after 10 years of doing the work that my child would still have so much more work to get through in order to become even semi independent. I didn't think there would still be so many dirty pull ups at this age, or messes that you would expect out of a 2 year old, but not a 10 year old. I didn't think he would still have so little to say. I didn't think he would still be lashing out physically after so many years of therapy. And I went to the dark place of wondering what good it all had done if this is still where we were. Also, my mother was getting more unwell by the day. Her body and brain failed her and I had to help out a lot and spend days with her so my dad could have respite. We did the best we could for her but it was horribly sad to watch what took place with her. So I was just trying to survive the days at the time. Also, I had experienced extreme emotions over not having a second child in our family. We never wanted Lucas to be alone. We always thought he would get a sibling through adoption, and then God revealed a different plan, one that had involved having another baby of our own, despite the fear of Fragile X, the disorder Lucas had that had affected him so profoundly and caused him to have autism, among several other issues. Well in following that call for a second baby when my son was already 10 years old, I had another miscarriage, this one worse than the first, because I had been pregnant for a whole trimester and the event landed me in the hospital over night. After the procedure to stop the extreme bleeding, I was released late the next day while my son was still in school. I wanted nothing more than to hide from the world. Consumed by the pain of what happened, I returned home to my dad asking me immediately to sit with my mom the next morning. The mom who I would have loved to cry with but who had no idea about what was happening. I had to keep pressing. I had no choice. So I left my son's progress for the moment in the hands of his therapists and teachers. Because being his therapist while caring for an ill parent and trying to process my hurt was more than I could do. Two weeks after my Lucas's 10th birthday, my mom, his Grammy, passed away. And as with any major change, he had a hard time with that. But his very limited verbalization left us unable to tell how much he understood or exactly what he felt. This is everything that happened in October of 2016. Two days after Christmas, I found out I was pregnant again and we announced it months later when everything with this pregnancy was deemed normal by my medical team.

As we shared it at the time, our superhero was finally getting his sidekick. We were over the moon and of course delighted when little brother Liam was born, during a much less traumatic birth, thanks to the epidural I had this time. 

As I write this today, Liam is 21 months old. He adores his older brother just as we hoped. We know he is going to be his friend for life. What a blessing he has been to our family! But also, what a life changer. Wow, I didn't know just how difficult it was going to be for me to care for both these people every day. We went from nursing around the clock to complete mobility and shenanigans so quickly. Both things kept me very busy with the new addition to our family. And as I mentioned, when life is changing, Lucas's behavior changes too. And Lucas continued to need all that he needs. Not to mention that he is in that preteen and prepubescent stage. When you see the major life events that have occurred over the last two years in writing, it seems no wonder why we would be in a place that we feel like he has been stuck concerning his improved development. But that hasn't made it any less emotional. God has still revealed to me that in my moments of crying out to Him through hot tears of anger, saying things about how He promised that Lucas would be okay and what we see now is NOT okay, I had simply gotten my vision and perspective distorted. 

In these years that seemed stagnant for positive change in his abilities, God showed me that I was speaking way too much negativity over our situations. I spoke badly about what was going on and to and about my son. I yelled at him for bad behavior instead of remembering that he doesn't have it in him to do things just for the purpose of being mean or spiteful. He is only ever trying to defend himself against what bothers him or what he doesn't want to be forced to do. And if you don't think the way we speak about our lives matters, check out my upcoming post, one about the tale of two apples. You will get the visual on how much words make an impact. But there was a little more revelation that came to me recently, about why I had the "I give up" attitude just because my son has so much more to learn, and because we lost his home therapy, and because his medical and teaching staff seemed to be all out of new ideas on how to move him forward. 

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." Proverbs 13:12

When I read this verse I was hit with the reality that my hope for Lucas had been deferred time and time again. And it only seemed to get worse when we lost so much of our help and those who were still on board could not seem to help us. God showed me more. When I had gotten sick over the last year, another major life event, and I felt helpless because nobody was giving me any good advice, God revealed to me that I only needed him and the brain he gave me to do the research I needed for myself. I was my own help. And in this season, I could be my son's help too. As hard as it feels, if I abide in Jesus, I have all I need to find out what will help Lucas and carry it out. He showed me that in our state of survival mode through family illness and sleepless weeks with a new born and treading water with my kids to keep from drowning, I had abandoned the actual work for Lucas before the work was finished. Remember that is the part God said I must do in order for the promise of my son's full potential to be brought to completion. God is glorified in the work that He does in us and through us and we can't grow tired of doing good, as scripture says. Our reward is yet to be reaped. Hope may have been deferred but in Christ there is always still hope. Our tree of life is coming. The past and the present do not determine my son's future. I have seemed to stumble upon new information about how we can get him some more momentum accidentally, but I know there are no coincidences in the order of things. I have a feeling that some day, on his actual last day of school, when he will have grown into a man, I will have a photo of a guy who has achieved more than we even dreamed possible. God is cool like that. I am looking forward to our longing fulfilled. But first, the work. 

From Darkness to Light

This is the story of a girl I know well. She was born a people person who would prefer to be in the company of others most of the time. As a toddler she pitter pattered about on her chunky little legs, constantly chasing after her big brother and seeking his attention.

 As a preschooler, she often felt lonely playing by herself, even if she didn’t know the meaning of that word or how to describe the feeling. She would always ask if her friends could come over and play, and felt dejected any time the answer was no. Likewise if mom or dad or big brother were busy and wouldn’t want to read, or toss a ball or play with dolls at the moment. She was pretty excited to go to kindergarten and make new friends. She went in fully equipped with the simple script her parents had given her when she nervously asked how she would make friends with anyone new, since the friends she already had were not going to be in her class. All she had to do was say “Hi, I’m Jenny. What’s your name?” Easy enough when your 5, right?

And Jenny DID make some friends, but that year was also the first time she had encountered serious unkindness directed towards her as well. Words of other kids that were meant to hurt and cut down and reject. That pattern continued in elementary school, making it hard for a born people person, because she felt like she didn’t fit in with her peers. She was unaccepted. When middle school came, she wished for a fresh start, because it would be a new building and lots of new people she had not met before. But some of the names that had been assigned to her in grade school followed to the next place, and she was given some new labels as well. None of them were true, but in the middle school world, what does that matter? One thing was certain, the feeling of isolation had taken a toll. The girl felt like nobody accepted her, nobody loved her, nobody cared if she lived or died. So maybe, she would just die. Life felt too hard and she didn’t have anything to offer anyone anyway, she had come to believe.  She wasn’t wanted. Except she was very much loved and cherished by her mother, and her parents found a counselor who could get the reality of God’s love for her to reach the depths of her heart. So it was that her fresh start came not by the acceptance of other people, but from Jesus. She learned to understand that she was created by God, who makes no mistakes, on purpose and for a purpose. 

It was from that day forward she grew in her relationship with Christ and cared more about what he thought than what others thought. A month later, she was baptized just before 14 years of age and thought she had buried all her past hurt from other people under the water and had come out on the surface completely new. She did grow in more confidence in who she was and became unafraid to stand up for herself in high school and college. After she had blossomed into a young woman and grew her hair out and learned how to fix her kinky curls, nobody ever called her ugly anymore, and in fact, she began hearing that she was beautiful. Although she never wanted to please people more than God, it helps to grow confidence when you hear nice words over negative. ( That is something to keep in mind when you talk to the people in your life.) So she firmly believed the past was in the past. But she didn’t know that she still had a little backpack of emotional baggage that she would carry with her into adulthood and into marriage, and parenting and everything else. As an adult, who had been a mom for 12 years and married for nearly 17, she began to learn some things about herself through others. Personal counselors and friends and personal development books helped her understand that there was still anger and bitterness in her heart that came out any time she felt isolated, unheard or uncared for. A favorite author by the name of Lysa Terkeurst had written these words that brought further revelation. “If the enemy can isolate you, he can influence you.” Our enemy, the devil, goes around looking for ways to attack and deceive us. He wants us to believe the worst about God and ourselves and others. He wants us to forget that it’s HIM we are fighting against and make us fight against one another instead. And a feeling of isolation is one this girl has known for most of life. When she was that little girl wanting to just have lots of friends but was met with cruelty instead, she felt isolated. When her closest friendship unexpectedly ended, and she could never quite get that kind of relationship again with another friend, she felt isolated. When other friends that she had for years suddenly seemed too busy for her, or disinterested in getting together with her, she felt isolated. When her son was born she had intended to keep working part time and have “the best of both worlds.” But her son had developmental delays that could be detected early on and she had to quit working and stay home full time in order to help him, and she felt isolated. She wanted to be home with him but she also wanted to be in an office, talking to other adults some days, and using her gift for the written word. The more her son’s special needs emerged and she tried to have him at all the gatherings with family and friends but ended up off in the distance with her child who was not interested in playing where the other kids were, she felt isolated. And when her friends couldn’t understand the challenges she experienced with that child, or when others started to not include HIM because of his differences, she felt more isolated than ever before. Fast forward a few more years to becoming a mother for the second time in a season of life where her mother had already passed away, her husband worked late hours, and it became harder than ever to get out of the house, because now there would need to be a sitter who didn’t mind watching a special needs boy and a baby. It was a baby who was very attached to his mother and might not want to go to bed without her at that. Small group Bible studies that once brought connection to others came to an end. Date nights were no longer a possibility and getting out for friends’ special occasions on weekends was nearly impossible. More isolation. More loneliness. There was even a long stretch where when she really tried to make the personal connections she longed for that something would block every attempt to follow through. Her husband would agree to watch the kids so she could have a mom’s night out and then she got sick. Just repeat that scenario with the illness moving around the house from person to person, for about 9 months time. Very little church, socialization or otherwise could take place. And one day, during a morning workout that was accompanied by a sermon, this girl who tried her best to take care of herself and fill in the gaps with Jesus heard just a few words that culminated into the revelation that led to this story being typed out and shared. Pastor Steven Furtick spoke about how the devil only comes up against people who are a threat to him, in a message called “You must be Important.” The basic principle of the message was that you can know how important you are to God by the size of your storms in life, because those are often the attacks of the enemy coming against you to keep you from your purpose. And then he said this: “What does the enemy attack? What you value most.” In case the name and the details of my life didn’t give the story away, I have been writing my story. And on this morning, when these words were spoken, I set down the weights and the end of my set and felt the weight of the whole world fall off my shoulders at the same time, even as I was hit hard by this realization. What I value most are relationships, and the devil has been attacking me in that area for all of my life, and I had no idea. I never realized that from the time I was that tiny toddler, he was using my longing for relationship with others against me.  But now I know. And now I see how he used my value on relationships and quality time with people to hurt me and cause me to save up all sorts of untrue limiting beliefs about myself. I see how he used the feeling of isolation to drive a wedge between my husband and me, as I tally up the record of wrongs or perceived unfairness in his ability to be out among the living while I am limited to a screen with profiles or pictures. I have left behind friendships with too little fight because I carried that little backpack of baggage from childhood, and withdrew from any relationship where I felt left out or tuned out or whatever other slight may occur, without ever having the nerve to just simply tell the person what I was thinking and let them clarify their intentions. And don’t get me started on how much I hate it when someone interrupts or talks over me. Isn’t it ironic that I married the most talkative human being alive, and he as ADD so he wants to get his words out the second they come to mind? Life is funny. But as you can imagine, it is freeing to have figured out the truth. It was freeing to verbally declare to the enemy that he can’t have my family, my marriage, or me. I will address this and know that no power in hell can keep me from making it to the purposes God has for me. I will fight for my relationships from now on. I will make time for the ones that matter, no matter what obstacles the enemy tries to place in my way. Greater is He who is in me, and I am so very grateful this day for His revelation about what has been going on and why I don’t have to let it hurt me or my loved ones any longer. I have a clear view of whom I am fighting and it is not any other person in my life. Praise God, the one who has been turning my values against me is under my feet because of Christ’s glorious defeat of him. What do you value most? I wonder if anyone reading this can also see where the enemy uses that for harm. What he intends for harm,  God will use to make something good! 

The Bread of Life, Broken for Me

I have made it no secret that I have had a life long struggle with junk food addiction. In any stage of life, when things got stressful, I could turn down my emotions with a pint of ice cream, a bag of chips or whatever else you can think of, because this girl has had a love for all flavors salty, sweet or deep fried. Somewhere in my first year of health and fitness coaching, I did a Daniel Fast for myself and to bring me closer to the Lord during that time and see what He would reveal to me. One revelation I did get during a sunny day at the ball park where my son and his family were one selected to attend a Pittsburgh Pirate's game along with his autism school. Some wonderful sponsors had gifted us their box seats for the day and paid for catering and a private visit with the Pirate Parrot. We and our great kids truly received the VIP treatment that day. And there was SO much food. But, this occurred during my fasting period when only a few of the things available were allowed on my menu. And it was then God spoke to me through His word on something I had only looked at in a different light previous to that day.


"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothes?" Matthew 6:25

In this verse, Jesus had been explaining to his disciples why we need not worry about our daily needs being met, and how worry achieves nothing for us. But when I heard these words in my mind this day, I thought of Jesus simply asking if life was not about more than food, and on this day I realized that it truly was so much more. There were so many more important things to enjoy that day than the food I refrained from eating. It was indeed a beautiful day, and even though my son did not understand the game or want to watch much of it, he enjoyed the attention he got from his teachers, and walking around the ball park to see all the sights, and especially seeing the Pirate Parrot. My husband had gotten the opportunity to enjoy baseball, something that was special to him because of the many games he attended with his grandfather, with his own son that day. This was something that would not happen without the special seating because Lucas does not care about sports and loathes to sit still in one place for long. But today it happened and everyone had fun. Who cares about chocolate cake?

I thought my eating struggles were over forever. But then life happened. Isn't that always the way? My mom was getting more sick by the month, and more forgetful, and more confused. And during that time span God had also led me to a promise about a baby that I never thought I would have. I had planned to never give birth to one of my own after my oldest again. Because I was afraid. But God had something else in mind. And when He showed me that, I anxiously awaited a positive pregnancy test month after month and it did not show up. As my beloved mother's health declined, I wanted desperately to tell her of another grandchild on the way, to give her something to look forward to, in the hope that it would help her hold on and get better. The positive result did not come for about 11 months. When it did, I was so overjoyed and so sure this was God's plan come to fruition that we shared the news with the world quickly. I was pregnant for 3 months and thanking God every day that my baby was going to live, but then that was not what happened. I miscarried so violently that I had to spend a little time in the hospital. And the one person whose shoulder I would have cried on most, other than my husband, was not with the mental or emotional capacity she once had to even understand what I had just been through or fully know what had been lost to our family. And that person, my mom, who had always taken care of me my whole life, she needed me to take care of her. So while I did not turn my back on Jesus, and I prayed daily and listened to sermons to build my faith in a time when I had never been so confused or disappointed, I also used anti depressants to keep me going in order to put my emotions aside and be there for my parents. And I used food, as well as alcohol occasionally. But I kept showing up every day until she passed away in late October.

It was 2 days after Christmas that I found out at a doctor visit for something else that I was pregnant again. The first time we had made an attempt since the loss, even though it was scary to do, was successful. I had already stepped down off my medicine because I knew we wanted to try to conceive once more. But food was still there. And God used something else to show me there are two times when I had always been able to give up the things that were bad for me and stay away from emotional eating. One was during those fasting times when it was an act of drawing nearer to God and away from any idols in my life. The other time I could do what I should without losing control was when I HAD to. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, and HAD to make sure it stayed under control for my safety and that of my baby. I did great for the duration of my pregnancy. Then my second child was born, and the reality of dealing with a special needs boy in his prepubescent stage and a newborn, largely by myself while my husband worked long hours really set in.

The whole first year I enjoyed every moment of having another baby in my arms, but it was also HARD. And I had self doubt and chronic stress taking over. And then around my baby's 10th month, I was slammed with something I never expected. I got incredibly sick and felt symptoms I never had in my life. Shortly I found out I had a hyperactive thyroid, yet continued to gain weight, and later I received a diagnosis of Grave's Disease, an autoimmune condition. The prognosis you get through mainstream medicine is not good, and gives you very few treatment options, the least invasive of which is to remain on pills for a life time. I knew another time had come that I would have to change things in my diet in order to get well. God does not create disease in my opinion and belief but it exists because we live in this broken world. But God will use anything to work good in us and around us. Romans 8:28, my favorite promise in the Bible says God works all things together for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. God led me to the right answers on combating this disorder that had risen up in my body. He prepared me for this season of Lent when I would refrain from ALL my emotional buffers and be willing to sit with them and drop them all at His feet instead of numbing them with food or wine. I heard lots of messages leading up to this season about keeping my eyes fixed on Him. Would I be able to see Jesus, the Bread of Life and the Living Water, above all the commotion that continuously seems to take place in my life? Could I allow myself to be filled by Him instead of chocolate, potato chips or pink moscato? I am getting it. Because of this time I have had to get close to God by allowing my feelings to be what they are instead of trying not to feel them. I have learned that I have always been afraid to fully address my feelings because if I didn't numb them down at least sometimes, I would just cry a lot. Who wants to do that?  This life always has so much uncertainty and there is pain in waiting to see what God is doing. I have so many days when nothing sounds better than covering over everything that just happened with a bag of something salty, a hard cider and a binge watch of whatever show I am into at the moment. In giving up all that for Lent, there have been SO many tears and unfortunately, a few angry outbursts with my family. Take an emotional girl away from all her unhealthy coping mechanisms and it might get a little ugly. But God makes everything beautiful in its time. I can see Him more clearly. I have received new revelation from Him about the depths of Jesus' suffering that took place just so he could save us all, make us close to him and know what it is like to be human and hurt. I have been made to look at things I never thought of before in my life when it comes to the amount of physical, emotional and mental anguish the perfect Son of God went through because He did not want Heaven without you and me. In the past, when I have cried out to him, I have thought that Jesus did not live my specific set of circumstances, so I wondered if he really did get it, In my moments of extreme exhaustion and frustration and feeling sad about having to do all I do alone, I have cried and told Jesus that I am so tired of being alone. I miss my mom. I want my husband home during illnesses and minor emergencies instead of having to work to support us every day at crazy times. I have cried a lot and through my tears lamented being all alone. Now, Jesus has allowed me to see that nobody knows isolation more closely than Him. His best friends couldn't stay awake to watch and pray with him on his final evening. They scattered in fear when he was being arrested. The religious leaders accused the Light of the World of being a liar and blasphemer and they abused him and disrespected him in the worst ways, and all the while he had the power to defend himself and leave that place but he did not. And while he allowed all this injustice to take place against him, nobody he had ever helped spoke up in his defense. Nobody was there to intervene when they beat him so badly he probably should have died right there. Everyone continued to make fun of the situation while he hung on the cross as a curse for us, so we would not have to pay the penalty for our own wrong actions. Where was everyone he had healed? Where were the friends who had followed him everywhere? There is no mention of the people he arose from the very dead being there to speak on his behalf. No one held his hand while he was dying. Even his Father had a moment before he died where He could not look at him because all the evil ever done in the world and every sin that would ever be committed in the centuries ahead culminated onto the body of Christ, given as the ultimate sacrifice for all, and God could not bear the sight. In him there is no darkness and they can't coexist. So Jesus does know isolation in a time where one would only hope for some help or some comforting words. Jesus knows what it is to be alone and to face hard things alone, more than we could ever imagine. As a result of Jesus' bold actions, we can know that while we may feel all alone in the world, we are not. Jesus promises to be with us always. (Matthew 28:20)
The bonus of allowing God to work this out in my heart is that I have gotten healthier in every way, but that is a post for another time. The main point I am hoping to share with anyone who needs it is that it's okay to just FEEL anxiety, frustration, fear, sadness and even depression. If you will bring those things to Jesus, instead of covering them up, He can heal. What stays concealed can not be healed. Whatever addiction you have, please ask yourself if you are relying on it because you are afraid to feel how you actually feel. If you stop hiding the emotions, and you address them with the One who knows how you feel and understands you better than you do yourself, all can be healed.