Forgotten? No.

Oh, hello lovely readers.  May I share my heart with you?  I’m trying to be real, and honest.  It’s harder than I would have thought, but I want this blog to be a place of openness. 

Because, this past week, I’ve never felt more small.

More lonely.

More single.

It started with the birthday.  Oh, friends, how I was dreading it.  In absolute anxiety over it.  Because, this birthday was to be my first, alone.  My dad had to work, my mom was getting over a heinous ear infection (she still took me out for coffee for 30 minutes after work, which was so kind, considering how poorly she was feeling), my friends were busy.  My coworkers cheered me up with some yummy homemade cupcakes, and lots of well wishes.

After coffee, I bought myself some take-out for dinner.  I had no appetite, so I tossed it into the fridge when I came home.  I wrote this blog post.  I had a cupcake.  And I went to bed.  I wanted to sleep, and be blissfully unaware of the day, or my longing to have been with people, or my childish wish of a surprise celebration. 

I felt like Alice, falling down the dark rabbit hole.  Only at the end of it, there was no Wonderland.

I felt so alone.  Heartsick.

Forgotten.

As the days have gone by, I’ve been crying out to my Savior for strength and healing.  I have been leaning on Him for comfort.  Asking Him to help me remember that I am not alone. 

And then (cue the ghastly ‘dum, dum, dum, dum’ music notes here):  Valentines Day.

The single girls nemesis.  Oh, why, why must my birthday fall so close to this day?!? 

The day was busy, with Valentine parties for the kids in my class.  I was showered with cards, flowers, and candy.  They had such fun passing out their treats to each other. 

I didn’t think much about it.  Then the day ended, and I went to the gym.  I went home, cooked some dinner, and checked in on Facebook.  And then, it hit me.  How happy I am for all the people sharing their Valentine excitement:  the dates, dinners, balloons, flowers, love notes, and romance.  And yet...How much I long to celebrate this day with someone special.  To be showered with attention.  To feel like a princess.

Rather, I simply ate dinner, ate some chocolate, and went to bed.

I felt so alone.  Heartsick.  Forgotten.

Again.

Would this week.never.end?  I woke up every day in a funk.  I would lay in bed and just say ‘Jesus help me.  Give me strength.  Forgive me for feeling...funky.’

I would go to work, and enjoy the mental break.  I laughed with the kids, with the staff, and went to the gym regularly.  But, driving home, the sadness and anxiety would creep back up.  I couldn’t shake it.  I would just cry out to Him.  'Help me not feel alone.' 

At last, the week has come to its end.  I feel raw, and exhausted.  Emotionally exhausted.  Because, all week, I’ve fought  the autopilot need to masquerade.  To smile through the loneliness, to keep my heart protected.  I’ve walked the fine line of wanting desperately to share with people how I felt, so that I wouldn’t feel like my head would explode with my thoughts, and wanting to push it away and press on.  Remember here, where I mentioned the me that fights anxiety?  Yeah, did I mention occasional depression?  No?  Oops...

Regardless, this week it wasn’t a fight.  It was a battle. 

And Team God and I?  We kind of kicked the 'funk's' booty.  I'm taking it one day at a time. 

Regardless of how I felt, I know this truth:  with Christ, I am not alone.  I am not forgotten.  And He will heal my heartsickness. 

And for you:  you are not alone (Jesus is always with you).

You are not forgotten (Jesus holds you closer than you could ever know).

Heartsick?  Do not be down trodden.  (Jesus will lift you up).

Please, readers, I want to close with this thought:  this blog is my place to share my life experiences.  This weighed on my heart all week.  I am not seeking sympathy, or trying to diminish the serious issues that others are facing.  I just know that I, personally, feel like I am quite often the only one in the world who feels the way I feel.  But I know that’s not true.  I want to share these small stories, such as a lonely birthday, or a sad holiday,  because I have a sneaking suspicion that somewhere, someone has felt the same way, or had a similar experience.  I want to be the voice that is willing to speak on behalf of the person who may not want to share.  That’s what this post is about.  Helping someone, anyone, who felt alone this week, or any other time.   

Also, I am not 'dissing' single-ness.  This is the stage that I am at, where God has me.  Generally, I am okay with it.  But, sometimes, it hits harder than others.  This week was a prime example of one of the tough times.

And, lastly, I'm anticipating my next post to be more cheerful. 

Thanks for sticking around to read my posts! 

   

Heart Flow: The Real Me.

Folks. Blog readers. Friends. This is going to be a tough post, I’m telling you up front. But, I’ve been mulling over this post for…oh, I’d say, less than a week. And I really want to share it. But it's hard, because I'm going to let myself be vulnerable. So, I’m taking a cue from one of my favorite Bloggists (that’s not a real word, awesome as it may be) Summer. She is so honest and open. She seriously inspires me to share my thoughts, my heart, in a more honest, and real way.

Allow me to begin...

Last Sunday, I had the opportunity to go to an amazing church (The Rock), and hear an amazing word.

And, can I just tell you? God was there. You could just feel an energy, a vibrancy, a presence.

The sermon was about worship, and how we can worship God wholly...uninhibited.

Pastor Miles M. eloquently stated that worship is akin to your heart flowing directly to God. Every.bit.of.it.

All emotion, fear, joy, love, worry, thoughts. We need to break free from the things that hinder us from worshipping our God, and have an open heart flow. Like a river of water, from us, to Him.

Personally, I take worship to mean more than singing praise to Him. It is prayer, attitude, thoughts, words. It is every part of every day. It's our relationship to God. This is what this post is about. Not just the act of worship in church, with music, and song, as important as those things are. It's about me, and my daily worship, and my heart.

Here’s where it gets real.

For well over a year, I’ve struggled immensely with my relationship with God. I mean, I have NO words to describe how deep the struggle and the pain has been. Anger, bitterness, frustration. It was Bad, with a fat capital B. I kid you not. As in, church was something I went to, to avoid feeling quilty, my Bible was MIA, I had no motivation for any spiritual growth. I could care less. Period.

And, as I listened to this sermon, and pondered his words, I felt my heart start to beat faster. I felt uncomfortable. We were led into closing worship. I stood. I raised my hands. I sang.

And suddenly, my heart began to break.

It broke for all that I’d missed. For all of my sin. For all of my anger that I refused to give to Him.

I closed my eyes. I imagined a brick wall. The bricks were made, one by one, from my own hand:

Anger, fear of being alone, resentment, jealousy, sorrow, disappointment, and on, and on, and on. Neverending. Disgusting. And as the music carried on, I kept imaging this wall.

Until, a beam of light shot through.

I opened my eyes, singing, amazed. I knew.

He was tearing down my wall.

Friends, I have to admit something. I am terrified of people seeing the real me. The me that I sometimes wish I wouldn’t be. The me that is vulnerable, raw, and broken. The me that I tell to ‘go away, you are worthless.’ The me that is frightened of being abandoned by those I love. The me that feels too deeply, fights anxiety, gets depressed, gets hurt too easily.

Oh, dear friends, I know I must not be the only one. The only one who hides behind humor. Who tries to be the best at everything (because God forbid anyone sees me fail). Who smiles when I want to cry. Who wants to make others happy, even when I can’t seem to be. Who gets tired of the great pretend.

I want to tell you, I have a blessed, wonderful life. I need to make that perfectly clear. A huge percentage of my days are filled with joy and happiness. But these feelings and thoughts sometimes linger under the surface. And when I peel back the layers and find them, I, myself, am often shocked to discover them.

However, I had convinced myself, somehow, that this wall I built around my heart, was my ultimate protection. That, if God were Superman, my heart could be his Kryptonite. He could never reach me. I could love Him on my own terms.

And now I see. I’ve been so lost, because I wandered away. I’ve been in the dark, because I turned off the light. I’ve been afraid, because I refused to be comforted. I’ve been walking through the motions, because I didn’t want to feel. I’ve been so weary, because I didn’t want to seek rest. I hid behind this wall, only to find myself in a war zone.

Yet...slowly, over this week, I’ve been allowing Him to tear down the wall, brick by brick. To change my heart. To romance me. To bring me back to Him.

The remnants are still there. There is loads of work to be done. Yet, I am so encouraged. I’ve thought all week about my heart flow, and how I can be right with my Savior again.

He wants the real me. That me that I sometimes hate. He doesn’t want the fake smile, or the flippant prayers and attitudes. He wants the raw, bruised, honest me.

"I've been wicked and wild and wrong, and I've wondered the price of my shame

I've been hiding my face for so long, it's a wonder that You know my name." {Saving Jane}

He knows my name. He knows the real me. And loves me the same.

My heart is beginning to flow again. To Him. To my faithful, loving, forgiving God.

I want to leave you with this, the greatest revelation, and sweetest encouragement I can offer:

After imagining that brick wall, and the realization that He was trying to reach my heart, I fought it. I opened my eyes, got distracted, and refused to focus on the worship. But, as hard as I resisted, I was pulled back.

I closed my eyes again. I felt the tears stinging, and the lump in my throat.

And instead of that wall, I saw Jesus.

Clearly, beautifully. Smiling.

You know what else?

He was dancing with me.

And my heart was happy.

He is Risen.

Image Source

'Til on that cross, as Jesus died,

The wrath of God was satisfied.

For every sin on Him was laid,

Here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground, His body lay

Light of the world, by death was slain.

Then bursting forth that glorious day

Up from the grave He rose again!

And as He stands, in victory,

Sin's curse has lost it's grip on me.

For I am His, and He is mine,

Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

I hope you had a wonderful Easter, celebrating with loved ones. 

I am thankful that I have been made righteous through the death and resurrection of Jesus.

He has conquered death.

He is risen indeed.

I spent the day with one of my best friends, and her awesome family.  We ate a delicious breakfast, went to church, and then my nieces enjoyed hunting for Easter eggs.  It was lovely.

Unearthed Treasure {A Personal Post}

Today, I found this:

I almost forgot about its existence, for it has been packed safely away for so long.

Oh, this little journal. 

I think journaling is a great way to record experiences, emotions, thoughts, hopes, and the like. 

I’m just not very good at it.  I’ll get excited about the notion of journaling, then will lose interest.  In fact, most, if not all, of my journals have been thrown away over the years.

Except this one.  This one is meaningful. 

It starts on July 21, 2006.  It ends on November 24, 2008.  Its small pages are filled with sporadic entries that covers 2 years of my life.

Those years, specifically the first one, were pivotal for me in my walk with the Lord.  My heart had been deeply broken, and I began to fully pour out all that I had to Him.  The funny thing is, in reading some of the entries, I never really expressed in writing my prayers, or blessings, or any of the process of growing in the walk.  Rather, it is very situation specific.  It simply documents events, and my thoughts about them. 

This book speaks clearly of a time in my life that happened.  I can almost read it objectively now, (though not completely without a stab of pain) as enough time and healing has passed.  And I am better for the experience.

I look at it, and though it holds no words of my strengthening walk, I can see it written all over the place. 

God brought me comfort, and drew me close to Him.  He soothed my doubt, healed my heart, turned tears into laughter, and matured me in a way I was never expecting.  I remember my prayers at that time, and I can say in confidence that He answered them.  His answer was to my question was no, but He helped me understand that it was for my own good.  I asked for His will to be done, and it has.

Today, I unearthed a small treasure. 

A simple reminder of God’s unfailing love and grace. 

A reminder of growth and healing. 

Life is funny.  I needed this reminder now, more than ever. 

“Memory…is the diary we all carry about with us.”  Oscar Wilde

Worth More Than A Sparrow.

Have you ever felt insignificant?

That you are just muddling through the day to day tasks?

Have you ever thought:  what more can I do?  And then played the comparison game, which puts you against every other person in the world?

I have felt this way.  I’m not going to lie, and say I haven’t.  But, sometimes I feel stuck in the daily grind, like I’m waiting for the next big thing, for a lightning bolt of significance.  Not unhappy.  I enjoy my day to day life for the most part.  It’s good, and productive.  It’s living. 

I love birds.  Sometimes, when I have my ‘blah’ days, where I take out my mental measuring tape, and try to compare my worth against the expectations of others, and I shake my head in frustration because I still feel insignificant, or not ‘good enough’, I think of birds. 

Birds live their day to day lives, building nests, searching for food, raising their young, and singing joyfully.  When I hear their heartsong outside of my window, I thank the Lord for them.  They sing praises to God, because He has created them to do so.  They don't stress about anything, or try to make themselves more important, or struggle with self worth.  They just live their little lives. 

Luke 12:6-7 says:  “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies?  Yet not one of them is forgotten by God…you are worth more than many sparrows.”

I love that verse.  Not one of them is forgotten by God. 

Not.One. 

Even the most insignificant creatures are remembered and valued in the eyes of the Creator.   

And how much more so are we?

I want to encourage you of this:  on the days when you are feeling small, or without value, or that you are not meeting the standards of your peers, God sees you.

You are never forgotten before God.

Just look to Him.

If His loving eye is on the tiny sparrow, it is more so on you.

You are valuable.  You are important.  You are remembered.