For Nathan and Pam and Naomi and Lori and Cindy and all my Marys and Beckies and everyone I’ve been talking to. I hope you know how each of you has helped me. I hope I’ve been able to return that help.
God – December 8, 2014
A few days ago, I posted a lengthy status on my personal Facebook page. Since then, people have commented, sent messages, and shared.
It’s no secret where I stand in my faith. I’m not a Bible thumper. I’m not perfect. In fact, I revel in my imperfectness. I’m just glad there’s a God who loves me the way I am, and who continues to help me be a better person for the world around me.
“Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”
~2 Corinthians 12:7b-9, NIV
Let’s face it. Life is hard. It’s hard when you know God. It’s hard when you don’t know God. This post isn’t about God. It’s about Christians and the disservice we do to one another in our own community by expecting only the Pretties to be seen, by submerging the imperfections, the thorns, the scars.
If we as Christians portray only a perfect example of God, how can draw people closer to Him? If we tell seekers “It’s okay that you’re broken” then why do we expect completeness of ourselves?
The Christian Community can send out false messages. Not intentionally, mind you. I believe our desire is to attract others to Christ, and we feel we can’t do that if we’re shattered or chipped.
I disagree.
We are all damaged. One way or another, we are all broken.
I’m okay with that.
“Stop forcing a catastrophe where there’s not even a storm.”
Because God is the True Healer. He can, has, and will continue to heal my brokenness whether it is caused by others or myself. Whether my brokenness is physical, spiritual, emotional, mental, financial, or any-other-al, He continues to seek me out and heal me.
The healing may not come in the way I want, or as fast as I think I need. But His timing is perfect. And I’m okay with waiting on Him.
Cuz Father knows best.
The following is the Facebook post from a few days ago. I hope it starts a dialogue of honesty and openness. I hope everyone has a friend who accepts them unconditionally. And if you want to know more about my God, I hope you ask.
Please read, comment, share. And watch the video at the end.
Life is hard. But God is always good.
I promise.
You Matter.
~#~
June 7, 2015
So an interesting thing happened. Late last night I posted a status (now removed) of how it’s okay that I’m angry with God. I received some comments and messages that others are praying for me, that others understand, and a few that cautioned me about being so public about it.
Here’s the thing, and I’m not upset, just puzzled . . . but here’s the thing.
Not one person asked WHY. Not one person asked, “How can I help?”
And it saddens me. Not because I need attention (although we all do, right?). Not because I feel alone (I mostly don’t). But because the impression or attitude seems to imply that as a Christian I’m not allowed to have bad days, that I should share only joy and keep the rest to myself.
And it makes me wonder, if the people I know are Christian (myself included), if we are sending out these vibes that it’s not okay to be NOT okay, how are we being authentic? How are we letting others know we’re there for them?
Do we as Christians stifle the outreach and community of those who need us? Is it possible by saying “This isn’t the time or place” that what they hear is “You’re not worth my time or energy”?
I have a lot going on. So do you. So does everyone. I don’t air my “dirty laundry” for everyone. In fact, there is not one single person who knows everything. There are some who know most, some who get headlines without details, and some who get only one story or prayer request instead of the whole basket.
I’m not advocating spilling your entire life on Facebook or other public forum. I’m not agreeing with those people who are “virtue suckers” and complain just to get attention.
But do the people who need us know we’re here for them? Do they really know?
Or have we made it too hard for them to reach out? Have we made them fearful that we won’t reach back?
Or worse, do we assume because we already know them that we know what the current moment is about? Do we pray for them, consider them, reach out to them based on past experiences?
Or do we say “I’m still praying . . .” for whatever issue WE think needs prayer.
When was the last time you came up to a friend and said, “Tell me what’s really going on.”? And didn’t fill your head with presumptions of who you think they are and what you think they’re going through?
So many of us are really going through our own hell on earth, yet we’re expected to live daily as if we’re not. So many of us are so skewed by our own hells that we can’t see someone else’s is different. We can’t see that we’re sometimes hurting instead of helping.
So I apologize, here, publicly, to all my family and friends. I’m sorry that I’ve not reached out to see where you’re at or how I can help you. I’m sorry that I put myself first — my own thoughts and ideas of how life should be, of how you’re doing it wrong, of how you’re not there for me. I’m sorry for not being there for you in the capacity I should be.
I’m sorry.
But hear this: You’re important to me. In many different ways.
Our lives are silk webs that criss-cross and intertwine and pull others into and out of the design and I want to strengthen your thread.
I want to be here for you.
I’ve ignored you, I’m sorry. I’ve made you feel less important, I’m sorry. I’ve made my own hells more important than yours, and that is farce. Everyone’s hell is important. Everyone needs a helping hand to get out and rise above the crud that tries to buries us.
This is me. Being as authentic as I’m allowed to be.
I let you down, and I’m sorry.
I’m here for you now. All of you.
All I’m asking is that you be here for me, too.
And the rest of your people.
Make sure they know.
It’s 6:37 am. I’ve been awake for just a few minutes, and need to get ready for the day job. There’s so much I have to tell y’all, so many updates for #DoingTheWriteThing and for life.
We’ve been stretched to breaking, put back together, and redirected. If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, you might have an idea. It’s quick to post a short status or a wordless photo that seems to capture a moment.
It’s been hard to get the words out. No. That’s not true. I’ve been posting quite a lot on my private Facebook page. But here . . . what do I write/not write?
I don’t have time today to give you all the details, so here’s the headlines:
In December, a dear friend, my male mentor, my “Church father” passed away after a long struggle with cancer.
Throughout January, God has been throwing me into writing and opening up networking possibilities. He is definitely answering prayers in bold and specific ways.
But the best and biggest item on our knock-the-socks-off list is this:
Engaged!
My daughter’s boyfriend came over a week ago Tuesday “to ask a question”.
And that’s all the time I have this morning. This weekend I’ll get you caught up. In the meantime, we’re planning a wedding.
I said this to a friend yesterday. I was completely sincere.
He’d had a heart attack nine months ago. Without warning. I woke up one Sunday to read on Facebook, “Had a heart attack last night.” I tried to figure out what he meant. Was he referring to a fright? Did his sports team lose? It wasn’t until he posted a photo of him in the hospital bed that I realized he was serious: he’d had an actual heart attack. As we were chatting this weekend about so many things in life, I thanked him for not dying.
Another friend of mine went through a bad health scare a few years ago, yet focuses his attentions on helping others before himself. Still someone else is suffering depression and it saddens me that I can’t be a stronger help for her.
So many people don’t realize their importance to others. We take our friends and even our families for granted. While we share ourselves to an extent, we may never really know what’s going on inside someone else’s mind, body or soul. Anything can happen at any given moment.
Everyone has something to offer; a reason for being in our lives. I’m a strong believer in letting people know how you feel.
This is for each and every one of you still in my life.
My Dearest Person,
Thank you for not dying.
You are valuable to me in ways I can’t fully express. You have honored me with your trust, your respect, your company. You are an example to me of how live through hard times, and celebrate Something Good.
There are times when I have felt useless and burdensome yet you never let me stop being me. You helped build the foundation of my life and while I try often, I don’t think I thank you enough.
Words can’t express what I really want to say to you. I’m so grateful to have you to laugh with, to cry with, to ask help from and be a help to. I want you to know that being a part of your life is so rewarding to me. You’re not perfect; I’m not perfect. But together, we’re a perfect blend of give and take.
My memories of us will never be forgotten. I love that we’re adding to them constantly. I can’t possibly imagine my life without you. And I’m so glad at this point in time, I don’t have to.
Whatever you went through, are going through, will go through… Thank you for not dying.
As I start this, I just know it will end up on Shell’s “Pour Your Heart Out” Page. I’m thankful for her keeping that weekly link up open so I can spill my emotional vomit and not be the only one doing it. Misery loves company, right?
Okay, so it’s not all miserable. But it’s a lot of what I can’t, or won’t, normally write. Today’s post is about life. And death. And a few things in between.
The last week has been a mixture of endurance, sorrow, mourning, and sickness. The details don’t really matter. My Blog friend, Jenn, nailed it when she said this is “vague blogging”. Not so much a fan of teasing y’all… but there really are some things I just can’t say. Ever.
Except today I’m sad. I’m just utterly sad and tired and worn out… and, of course, hopeful. Because regardless of how bad things are (and I thought they were bad a month ago… boy was that just a prelude!), nevertheless, I’m still loved. And sheltered. And cared for. And breathing. So it’s okay.
That’s the part I’m choosing to remember. The parts that turn the bad stuff into Something Good. That even my worst is someone else’s best. I’m blessed, I’m rich, I’m healthy. Even when it doesn’t seem like it.
And I could sit here giving myself a Pity Party. I choose not to. That doesn’t mean I’m not tired or worn out or feeling down. It just means I can still smile about it. And if all I know is only that, it’s still enough.
I can’t even say life goes on… for some, it doesn’t.
It’s completely strange yet comforting that most of my tears fell at the end of FLASHPOINT. It wasn’t just the end of this wonderful series that got me. It was the catalyst that allowed me to face the pains inside. It gave me permission to cry. It was a bit confusing… and a bit cathartic.
It was symbolic of so much. The highs and lows of the last week. The beginning of some things… and the end of others.
And then there are the stories I can’t tell, because they’re not mine to tell. The stories that leave a pain in my soul that isn’t easily healed. So I hold on to hope that this, too, shall pass.
Dot is under the weather tonight. I’m hoping she just needs a good night’s sleep. We’ve been house-hopping to Mom’s for a few days because the furnace is out. Again. The fifth time since Christmas. And it’s finally been given its last legs, a new one has been ordered. It was suggested that we get a carbon monoxide detector “just in case”. While it hasn’t sounded an alarm yet, there’s that keyword yet. I’ll be sleeping less peacefully until the new one is installed on Saturday.
We’ve been intermittently staying at home in the cold, staying at mom’s in the warmth, and thankfully, the furnace is working just enough tonight for us to stay home comfortably. I expect it to go out again tomorrow, as that seems to be its pattern. At least the cats are happy to have us home. But the turmoil hasn’t been good for Dot, and now she’s feeling ill. I hope it’s not the flu. She has so much on her plate, that’s the last thing she needs.
And a Momma never stops worrying about her babies, no matter how old they are. My mom and I are evidence enough of that!
I’m waiting to exhale when the Cookbook Project is finished. I don’t understand how I could believe in something so completely and not be successful at it. But that glimmer teases me. It’s not over yet. One more week. I have one more week. And, as the last week has evidenced, anything can happen. Even the unexpected. Be it good or bad. I believe it will be Good. But getting there is terribly stressful.
Mostly, tonight, I can’t shake the feeling of sadness over one small thing:
I never hugged Grandpa Jack.
He’s not my Grandpa. He’s the father-in-law of my dear friend. She’s been a motherly-mentor to me for nearly two decades. We were at their house for Thanksgiving, and the whole family was around. And when it came time to leave, I was selective in my affections. And I awkwardly never hugged him. Because after knowing the man for 18 years, I still didn’t know him. And I was embarrassed by my shyness. So we left. It was the best time we’d ever had together at the Great Turkey Shoot. I told myself I’d hug him at Christmas.
But I didn’t see him again.
And now he’s gone.
I never hugged Grandpa Jack. And that horrible thought haunts me. Because now I never will.
I don’t know what to do with all this pain… except sleep on it and know that tomorrow I’ll wake a bit more refreshed. A bit more warm. A bit more optimistic.
Because Shell let me get it out of my system. Sometimes, all we need is a friend to say, “How are you, really?” and mean it. Even if it’s just on a Blog.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote.
Help me to reach my funding goal before February 1st! Just click on the photo below and click “BACK THIS PROJECT” to pre-order YOUR copy of The Unemployment Cookbook, Second Edition!
You don’t know me, but from what I’ve heard in the past two weeks, we would be good friends. I’m a childhood friend of your brother-in-law, Dan.
It was just over two weeks ago that I heard from a friend that his brother passed away.
No. That’s not right.
It was just over two weeks ago that I heard your husband was shot and killed in the line of duty.
Since then, I’ve cried. I’ve prayed. And I’ve paid attention. I’ve wondered what it must be like to be you: a mom with four young children, left alone. Dan has shared your strength and faith with me and with many. And I see that while you are now without your husband, you are definitely not alone.
The Community has really reached out to help you. And it inspires me. It’s what a Community is supposed to do.
I pray for you and your kids every day. I hope you don’t feel terribly alone. I pray that God’s arms are supporting, comforting, and protecting you.
I wish I could be there with you. I wish I could get to know you and your kids. I’ve heard stories of how strong and wonderful and considerate you all are.
We’ve suffered some losses in our lives, but I don’t equate those with your loss. Ours was outside the immediate family. And even though I have an inkling of your pain, it can’t compare to what you’re really going through.
I want to say, I’m sorry. I’m sorry there are people in the world who have no hope. Who feel they have no support and no reason to live. I’m sorry they feel the need to take out their anger, depression and frustrations on those around them. I’m sorry the world is so confused, and your husband had to pay the ultimate price.
But I’m so thankful your husband paid the price. I’m so thankful to know that there was someone out there willing to put his life on the line no matter what. Willing to help others before himself. And willing to share his faith with all who would listen.
Your husband is no longer physically here, but his legacy is. And I’ve been so touched by reading stories on his Facebook page, and reading your own postings.
You, Patrick, and your children are so very inspirational. I’m so sorry it took his loss for so many in the world to see that, including me.
But I want to thank you for the encouragement you have personally given me. You don’t even know me but you have encouraged me to keep going. To not give up. To not be selfish. To love. To forgive. To move on.
No. Matter. What.
You are a remarkable woman. And we would be great friends, I just know it.
So if you’re ever in my neck of the woods desert, I’d love to offer you a great cup of coffee and get to know you better.
Until then, I’m just so sorry for your loss, and wish there was so much more I could do.
With love, hugs, and many prayers,
Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
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This post is linked up with Pour Your Heart Out at Things I Can’t Say.
