A Song for Sunday: "Hills and Valleys"

"Father, you give and take away.

Every joy and every pain.

Through it all you still remain, 

over it all."

Deep. Dark. Despair. Desperate heart clinging on to the last shred of hope. Times I find myself stuck in a valley. Sometimes I am almost comfortable in my misery. Afraid to try to climb up and out. Because I am afraid of falling. Of failing. Of taking 2 small steps forward only to be thrown one big step back. 

Because I've been there. It's daunting. Scary. I am tired, worn, weary. I start the climb, but a huge rock comes rolling down, almost crushing me. I get back up, shake off the dirt and start the climb again. Sometimes I am crawling with bleeding hands and a more damaged heart. Getting up the hill is hard and the view from the top will reveal more valleys that I will have to walk through. 

Ever feel like if I am trying to do everything right, how come things always end up wrong? Sometimes this is me every day. Like what's the point? I try so hard, but I'm not getting anywhere. And yet deep in my heart I know the valley experiences grow me more than the hill-top moments.

The hill-top moments are great. I love them. Who doesn't? But maybe we spend more time in the valleys, because it forces us to look up- to fix our eyes on He who created the hills and the valleys both. 

Maybe it's because the refining fire in the valley is molding me, molding you into some sort of precious jewel. A diamond in the ruff. The most beautiful kind-the one created under the most pressure. 

The valleys are hard. We strive for hill-top moments. We want the job offer. The good news that someone we love is coming home. The suffering coming to an end. The illnesses to stop. The healing to begin. 

And yet sometimes God keeps us in the valley moments. We aren't getting the job offers. Loved ones don't come home. The suffering continues. The illness persists. The healing is nowhere in sight.

And we don't understand or know why. We may never. Goodbyes cut our hearts in two. Seeing loved ones suffer makes us sick. And yet somehow, He is still Lord over it all. And Somehow, He is still good. 

So next time you find yourself in the valley, dreading the climb, revel in the moment. Embrace the journey as much as you can. Doesn't mean you will be smiling all the time. Or that you won't be mad. Or hurt. Or depressed. But delight in the fact that the Lord who created you has a purpose- and this valley serves a purpose too. We may not see it, but He does.

So I will dance in this valley and when the storms come, may I never stop.

Lord, help me to find joy in the valleys. Because no matter what, He is still good.

And He is over it all. He's God of the hills.....and the valleys. 

Amen.

Hills and Valleys lyric video

A Song for Sunday: "When I'm With You"

I am not sure why we think we have to put on a brave face for others all the time. I am not sure why I used to think I had to act like I had it all together in front of everyone else, even when everything in my life was crumbling around me. And I could do nothing to stop it. 

I used to do this. I tried to hide it all. I even tried to hide it from God. As if I could do such a thing. I would feel horrible, crying my eyes out in my room and tell myself "crying is going to get you no where. Now just stop it" As if that actually works, ha! And I didn't like to let people know that I was struggling, that I was not "perfect" all the time. I guess I didn't want them to know that *gasp* I was human. 

But then something shifted. My fiance of about 4 years (we dated for 5) out of the blue broke up with me. The heartbreak was like nothing I have ever felt before. I was, well there's really no other way to put this...I was a mess. I sat in church that Sunday with a sweet family I was close to. They had graciously let me crash at their house the night before and to please not watch any romance movies, haha. We watched movies, laughed, talked, and they just let me cry. And I never cried much in front of anyone. But I did there. 

And then my friend turned to me during one of the songs or maybe after the sermon and asked the question I always somewhat dreaded. "Are you ok?" I was sobbing at this point and it's pretty obvious I'm not ok. However, I used to just say yeah I'm fine and move on. I will never forget the time I looked at her and said "you know what? I'm not ok". Then she looked at me with this scared look on her face like, um I don't know what to say to that. I may have scared her a little bit or shocked her. But then I know it was God who stirred within my heart when I turned to her and said the next words "But I will be".

I didn't know when I would be ok. I honestly didn't think I would ever really be "ok" again. But did I want to be? Something shifted in me that day.

I felt almost a weight come off of me. And I was like you know what? I don't care what people think who see me right now. I just don't care. I am a mess. My heart feels like it's broken into a million pieces. And I just can't slap a smile on right now and pretend everything is just lovely. 

And that felt amazing. Freeing, really. For once I had decided to just be honest with someone, to not try to cover up my pain. And then I realized God doesn't want me to do that with Him either. Especially not with Him. 

That's why the song "When I'm With You" by Citizen Way speaks so to my heart. I am never too much for my Lord to handle. And gosh that's such a beautiful thing.

Because I know I am too much for some people. I know my sarcasm and my crazy antics probably drive some people absolutely crazy. I know some people see me and are like "Gosh do I have to talk to that girl again?" They don't say it, but I can see it written all over their face. 

And yet God looks at me. Me. A low, dirty sinner. In all my mess. And does He walk away? Or say uh no I don't really want to deal with this today? Never. Gosh, I sure would. I would be like yeah that's just too much of a mess for me to deal with. 

But "every hurt, every scar, every secret" He just loves me.  So everything is not always fine and I am not always ok. But I can always come to Him this way. And He meets me there. That's just so beautiful to me.

I think we need to stop trying to put on this show of trying to have it all together when we don't. Because you know what people really need? They need something real. People ache for it. They search for answers in all kinds of things, but only the things that are real and true really satisfy. People need to know that no, nobody has it all together. We are all sinners in desperate need of a loving God to scoop us up and make this mess a masterpiece for His glory.

I don't have to pretend with God. So why in the world should I have to pretend to others? You just never know who may need to hear about what you are going through or have been through. Because you never know who is secretly also walking through the fire and needs to hear some words of hope and truth today. You never know who is walking around, tired of acting like everything is just fine when everything is in pieces.

You never know who needs to be told that with God "there's only love, there's only grace." No matter what mess they find themselves in, they can know that there is no need for walls. And when you start letting your walls come down, it's extremely hard but it's one of the most beautiful feelings of freedom. 

Check out this link for the lyric video of "When I'm With You" by Citizen Way below. 

"When I'm With You" lyric video

A Song for Sunday: "I'll Find You"

I go about my day greeting those I meet with a smile and sometimes a hug. I accomplish what I need to do. I am doing life. But what many people don't know is what they can't see behind the mask I don at times.

What many don't know is that I struggle with this thing called depression.

I mean I think we all struggle with it a little bit from time to time. But most people don't know that I have spent hours in my bedroom crying, depressed and in a fog. That I have fought myself to get out of the bed some mornings. That I have been in deep, dark pits where I lay on my bed and ask for God to take me.

And that's why this song called "I'll Find You" by Lecrae and Tori Kelly hits deep with me. This song is about holding on a little longer when the night is creeping in and death may be knocking on the front door.

Depression is real. People commit suicide every day. I mean even I have contemplated it at times. And no one likes to talk about it. Because it's not pretty. It's messy. And dark. And hard. But it's real.

And it needs to be talked about. Because those who struggle the most with depression and thoughts of suicide have it in their head that they are alone in this struggle. Yet they are not alone. Countless others deal with the same struggles, the same hardships.

And the pain may cut deep. It may hurt like nothing you have ever experienced before. Yet, would you believe that it's all worth it in the end?

I didn't at first. I would be stuck in these dark and hard circumstances, pleading with God to just take me out of this world. I would say to Him "I don't want to do this anymore. It's too hard". I remember one night I was telling Him this and I heard within myself a voice in response saying "I know, child. It was hard for me when I went to the cross." And I was like gosh, pierce my heart why don't you?  The point had been made. My trials were nothing in comparison to the cross and the fact my Savior was rejected by His Father due to bearing the weight of the sins of the world.

But even knowing that doesn't always just make the depression go away. It lurks in the corners of my life at times, just waiting to come out. It surprises me when I least expect it. So like Lecrae pens in his song "I'm smilin' in everyone's face. I'm cryin' whenever they leave the room." This is because "they don't know the battle I face". 

So yes, the world is trying to play with my soul and I am just trying my best to trust in Jesus. Through the smiles, the tears, the laughter and the pain. Satan wants to have his way with me. Circumstances come about in my life that are harsh and painful. I want to pray them away or pray myself out;  out of the situation or out of the world. This pain is deep. It's so very real. And it's scary. 

Yet, the lyrics that ring so true with me in this song are:

"They say fear haunts

And pain hates

I say pain strengthens

And fear drives faith."

This sounds strange at first. Like how can fear actually drive faith? However, I know for sure that it is my pain and my fears that drive me to God. I draw closer to Him when I feel like all hope is lost. The pain makes me stronger. And I don't know why I have gone through the many hard circumstances I have had to walk through. But God used them all to bring me closer, to strengthen my faith. And well I don't think I would be where I am spiritually if I hadn't walked through the fire many times. 

So the next few lines from Lecrae's song becomes a sort of heart cry and prayer for me: 

" I don't know all of the outcomes

Don't know what happens tomorrow

But when that ocean of doubt comes

Don't let me drown in my sorrow".

The ocean of doubt will come. It always does. I feel often like I don't measure up. Like I am too much for people or simply not enough. But I know my God won't let me drown in my sorrow. He's the one who rescued me from myself many times. The one who urged me to lift my head out of the water on one of my lowest nights when I just wanted to sink under the water and not come back up. 

On the nights I had convinced myself that the world would be better off without me in it, He rescued me and convinced me it was worth me trying at least one more day. His love has always rescued me. It has given me purpose. It has given me worth. And it has given me life. 

So no matter what you are going through, hold on a little longer my friend. I know it sounds strange, but yes it's all worth it in the end. Just hold on and God will find you. Let Him rescue you from yourself. 

Check out Lecrae's song "I'll Find You" in this lyric video with the link below: 

I'll Find You Lyric Video

"Burn the Ships"

The holidays are approaching. And for the first time, I have decided there is one family member I don't want to see. And for the first time, I don't feel guilty. 

This is huge.

This past week I have been wrestling with my fear and my emotions. The guilt creeps in and I toss and turn in my sleep. I wake up in a cold sweat. I hate feeling like this.

The anxiety comes every time they want to talk to me. Every time they try to reach out, my heart recedes and panic settles in. I have a hard time sleeping. I pray sometimes for memory loss of certain moments. Because I just can't seem to forget. 

It's not that I haven't moved on. Because I have. It's that Satan is really good at making me feel guilty for having moved on. The lies repeat in my mind. Things said to me at night by a drunk father who doesn't remember, but that I will never forget. "You're a horrible daughter. Worthless. You don't love him." 

I have prayed in earnest to God, clinging to His Word and promises. And I just asked Him if it's ok for me not to see my dad for the holidays just give me peace...please. Because I can't take this anymore. 

And then a song came on the radio the other day. I was having a particularly hard morning. The bank also called and I had to deal with credit card fraud as well. I was just drained. I was driving to the bank the first time I heard it and really listened to the lyrics. 

I needed those lyrics. The message that there was a time to burn the ships of my past, to dry my tears, wave goodbye and don't look back. "Burn the Ships" by For King and Country is a deep personal story tied with a historical account. The lyrics hit deep. They strike the heart. 

And somewhere in all of that, the lies were destroyed with declarations of truth. The whispers from a loving Heavenly Father saying "You're my daughter and I thought highly enough of you to die for you. Because of me, you are worth more than precious jewels." 

It's as if God was using the lyrics to say to me "I can see in your eyes, dear. It's hard to take for a moment more" but that I don't need to feel guilt for stepping into a new day. Just like every other time before, I will rise up from the dust and walk away. And this heartache? I will dance on it. 

No matter how many times I am knocked down, my Savior will pick me back up again. He will strengthen me and teach me to dance all over again. 

I will light the match, leave the past all over again, and burn the ships.  Lord, help me not to look back. 

Satan, throw what you will at me. But you don't hold my destiny. The ships are burning. Now please move so I can get to my dance floor. 

Check out the music video for "Burn the Ships" at Burn the Ships Music Video

Just click the link. Don't ever feel guilty for leaving your past behind. Let the words wash over you. Step into a new day with the Savior by your side. 

Love can be a four-legged word

I look at you sometimes when you are sleeping. I check on you to make sure you are still breathing. Because honestly, I don't know what I would do without you.

I think back to the day I first met you, in that vet's office with the other puppies, and how you captured my heart from day one, as we brought you home that day. You would never know just how much you would come to mean to me.

Peanut in 2009 just a few weeks after I got him(he was the subject for an art project, I drew this picture for Art using the grid technique.)

It was my senior year of high school. I was full of dreams and hopes. I had been crushed by the weight of losing our family dog and having to sell my 2 dogs previously. But then I met you and all that went away. I didn't have to worry about what college I was going to attend or what career path I would take when I was with you. You didn't care. You were just happy to see me. You loved me for who I was. And you still do.

I stayed home for the first 2 years of college and you were there with me through late night studying, cramming for exams, crying about family drama or school, and more.

You were there with me the night I came home after the horrible wreck. You would lie right next to me as I sobbed the many nights following.

 You met my first love and you didn't really listen to him much. I should have taken that as more of a red flag. But you accepted him, because I loved him. And I love that about you.

I moved away for the last part of college and every time I came home for a visit, it was like no time had passed between us. We always missed each other like crazy, but picked right back up as soon as I walked through that door.

I moved back home and you were there when I was student teaching and crying my eyes out at night, because I was so nervous. You endured the tossing and turning of my anxious thoughts.

You were there when the hardest night of my life occurred and my first love, my fiance, broke up with me. When I felt rejected by everyone else, I know I would never be rejected by you. You let me lay on you and cry my eyes out. You always seemed to know when I needed to hold on to you.

You were with me when I left the church I grew up in. You endured my sleepless nights, my crying out to God, and just plain crying. You were there to be my friend when I felt like I had none. When so many turned their backs on me, I knew you never would.

You were there when I ventured out to a new church home. When I came back from church feeling alone, you sat by me and let me pet you. And I felt better.

You were there when I started making new friends and you welcomed them into our home and your heart, because you knew I loved them.

You were there when I got my first teaching job and I was so excited. Your picture graced my classroom full of dog-themed cuteness. I told stories about you to my students. And they all loved you just as much as I do.

You were there when I had to deal with even more family drama. As I still deal with it. You put up with my silent screams, my throwing of pillows, and my sobs shaking the bed.

You have always been there, through the ups and downs in my life. You have been with me through some really tough valleys. And some really awesome mountain top experiences. You are my movie buddy, my bike riding partner, and one of my best friends.

And one day when I have to say goodbye to you, it's going to be one of the hardest days of my life. Because you are such a big part of me. And I will always hold a special place for you in my heart. Let's not do that anytime soon, ok? The saying goodbye, I mean. For now, let's watch movies, snuggle, go on bike rides, and do life together. I love your four-legged self.

You are and will always be, my dog. My Nook. My Na-Na. My Peanut.

Peanut in 2010

A Song for Sunday: "Masterpiece"

Heartbreaks, a bittersweet sound

Know it well It's ringing in my ears

And I can't understand

Why I'm not fixed by now

Begged and I pleaded

Take this pain but I'm still bleeding"

I'm still looking for a full-time teaching job. I'm still dealing with pain of cutting ties with family members. I'm still crying at nights sometimes, trying to escape the pain of my broken heart. I don't understand sometimes why I'm not fixed by now. I am still bleeding, but I don't want to be.

"Heart trusts you for certain
Head says it's not working
I'm stuck here still hurting..."

My heart trusts in the Lord. I run to Him for comfort. But my head does tell me at times that it's not working, because I am still hurting. I feel alone at times, like God may have turned His back. 

"But you tell me....

You're making a masterpiece

You're shaping the soul in me

You're moving where I can't see

And all I am is in your hands.

You're taking me all apart

Like it was your plan from the start

To finish your work of art, for all to see.... you're making a masterpiece"

This mess of a life is somehow your masterpiece. The miracle comes not in the removal of pain, because it's still there. It comes in the grace that You are walking with me through it. You are taking my life all apart and it's painful, messy, and I don't like it. But it's all part of Your plan, even though I may not understand. Somehow you are working all of this for good. Somehow you are making me a masterpiece. 

"Guess I'm your canvas
Beautiful black and blue
Painted in mercy's hue.
I don't see past this,
You see me now,
Who I'll be then,
There at the end
Standing there as....

Your masterpiece"

The canvas of my life does not look so beautiful to me right now, in this moment. Somehow I am painted in Your mercy and to You, it is beautiful. Because you see beyond right now, beyond this moment. You see me and who I will be in the time to come. You see me at the very end. I can't see that. 

This song "Masterpiece" by Danny Gokey reminds me of who I am in Christ. How He sees me. Beyond the pain, beyond the mess, I am His masterpiece. It also reminds me of a poem from Corrie Ten Boom, which I will include here. 

“Life is but a Weaving” (the Tapestry Poem)

“My life is but a weaving

Between my God and me.

I cannot choose the colors

He weaveth steadily.

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;

And I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper

And I the underside.

Not ’til the loom is silent

And the shuttles cease to fly

Will God unroll the canvas

And reveal the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful

In the weaver’s skillful hand

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern He has planned

He knows, He loves, He cares;

Nothing this truth can dim.

He gives the very best to those

Who leave the choice to Him.”

― Corrie ten Boom

I am merely the work, He is the worker. I am the tapestry and He is the master weaver. I forget so much sometimes only He sees the upper, the finished product, while I see only the underside, full of tangles and knots. The underside looks ugly, like one big mess. And I think how in the world does God use this? But God sees the finished result, the upper part, and how it all comes together to make a beautiful pattern He has planned. 

No matter what comes your way in this life, rest in this. That you are still His Masterpiece. Even through the pain, the hard nights, and the mess of a life. He is working in you still. Keep trusting and don't always listen to your head. He is moving where we can't see and He is shaping us. Always. 

A Tale of Survival

I survived.

Sometimes barely.

But I did.

It's difficult to put into words what it's like to grow up with someone who deals with PTSD, is an alcoholic, and exhibits many narcissistic behaviors. Someone who is one of the most anal, type-A, crazy people you will ever meet.

But I'll try.

You know what it's like?

It's being told that you make up things, that you lie. They deny their part in things. If they can't remember, it didn't happen. If you remember it, then you're crazy.

You argue with them. You get mad. You cry. It gets you no where. So eventually....you stop. And they win. And you hate that. But it's just easier.

It's not knowing what character of the person will walk through the door. It's bracing yourself for the absolute worst, but hoping for the best.

It's screaming matches. It's yelling. It's covering your ears at night to try to drown out the noise.

It's the answering machine telling you he will be home late, because of work. But it's not because of work.

It's never measuring up. Never being good enough for them. It's trying over and over to win their approval, but never getting it.

It's being manipulated. Coerced. Tricked. They play with your emotions like it's a game.

They throw around the word love and offer fake praise when they want something from you. And if you don't give it to them, they throw out the insults once more.

It's them never being able to own up to their mistakes, their poor choices. They are always the victim. Always the abused, but really they are the abuser.

It's being accused of things you never did or said. It's the mentality that it's their way or the highway. And honestly, you start thinking the highway doesn't look so bad.

It's trying to get you to be the "middle-man" and place you in positions you don't want to be. It's trying to get others fighting over issues they think is important. It's pitting family member against family member.

It's playing with your mind. It's emotional and verbal abuse. And sometimes physical abuse.

It's watching them crush the spirits of the ones you love. It's the hatred you see in the eyes of your family members and in your own eyes. It's seeing them take your family member's love and passion and making it die.

It's them not being there. It's them being absent when they are there. It's knowing that somehow they are disappointed in you, but you have no idea why.

And then you grow up, all confused and hurt and broken. And the cycle doesn't stop. The person is still like that. You find yourself like that at times and it makes you sick. You literally get sick.

You sit in your bed at night and the lies come back to whisper in your ear. His voice sounds so real and it makes your breathing heavy.

The images flash in your mind and things you wish you never knew have a hard time escaping from your brain. It doesn't matter if your eyes are open or closed. It's still there.

You wonder if anyone could truly handle all of this. If anyone could truly love you. Jesus, you know, yes. But a person, outside your family? You aren't sure.

You think to yourself, who would want to deal with this? Because you don't even want to deal with it.

You are broken and hurt. But you are restored and redeemed. God's Words bring healing. You cling to them. You run to Him each time the lies make their way into your head again. And you feel safe. Loved. Protected. You don't know what is going to happen in the future, but you are glad He is by your side through all of it.  The good days and the bad ones.

The days you forget all about it and go on with life. And the days you stare at the bath water like it can somehow solve your problems and drown you without you really trying. The days you laugh and talk with friends. And the days you secretly sob in your room plagued by the past.

So what's it like to have a PTSD, alcoholic, narcissistic parent? It's deep and dark depression. It's anxiety. It's panic attacks. It's night terrors. But it's also knowing how to cope with it. It's learning how to breathe when you feel like you are drowning. It's learning how to reach out to others.

It's sharing your story. To let people know...they can survive too. Because I survived.

A Song for Sunday: "Losing"

Is there anyone who did not get to go home because of you? Do you know what that feels like?

I do.

It was an accident. A terrible vehicle accident. I didn't mean to. I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't see him. But I ran into him.

And because of me, he didn't make it home that night. He didn't make it home any night after that.

Lights flashing. Sirens wailing. Police questioning. My heart stopping. The shock. The confusion. The pain.

I didn't even know his name. I didn't know him. But because of me, he is dead.

Some things are just too heavy. It's been almost 9 years, yet I still remember that day. I won't ever forget...

I don't like to talk about it. I would rather just bury the memory in the recesses of my mind. Tucked away, secret, not to come out. Yet from all that, I learned a valuable lesson in forgiveness.

The man's wife contacted my family a few months after it happened and wanted to speak with me. I didn't want to meet her. I didn't want to look her in the eyes. I was the reason her husband did not come home that night. I was ashamed.

I was told I needed to. That it would bring closure. I went only because my family pushed me to. I tried to make myself feel numb. She looked me in the eye and told me she forgave me. I had to look away. I don't think I even cried. She said she didn't blame me. I thought, well that's realllly nice, but I do. I blame me.

She handed me her husband's funeral announcement and I didn't know what to do. She shared with me about him and that it was just his time to go. I will never really know.

What haunted me at night was that he may not have known Jesus and I put him in his grave. It made me want to share with everyone about Jesus all the more. It also made me want to die myself. I used to ask God why He didn't let me die instead. I was ready to meet Jesus, I have no idea if he was.

The ability for that woman to forgive me after such a tragedy taught me so much. It made me more open to forgiving others who wrong me. Though it's not easy, they certainly didn't put someone I love in the grave. I did that and she forgave me. I didn't cry when she said it, but I broke down afterwards. I just couldn't take it. How could she forgive me? After what I did? It was too heavy.

But then again, how could Jesus forgive us? After what we have done? That is way heavy. I went through this journey of seeking forgiveness, but learning that I needed to forgive myself. I am still not sure if I am all the way there. But I know He died for this too. And maybe all that happened to teach me a big lesson in forgiveness. I will never know.

The song "Losing" by Tenth Avenue North comes on the radio and I sob. Because I am also called to forgive others. And it's not easy. It's really hard. And yet I know, that I am the one really losing if I don't forgive.

They may not say sorry. They may continue to do it. And yet I am called to forgive. 70 times 7 times. "Lord, give me grace to forgive them. For I feel like the one losing."

Losing Music Video

A Song for Sunday: Symphonies

The night terrors are back. I lay my head down to sleep and visions flash in my mind, my throat feels tight and I can barely breathe. I toss and turn. I silently scream. I throw a pillow. And I don't where the tears are coming from, because I feel like I have already cried myself dry. And yet my face is all wet. 

Words come back to haunt me. Images plague me. The simplest things set me off. And I am spinning, out of control, and I feel sick. Everyone always talks about how hard it is for people who have PTSD, soldiers who drink their sorrows away and have anger issues that are unfathomable. But seldom do people want to talk about what it's like for a family member who grows up watching them, being hurt by them, watching others be hurt by them. Feeling rejected, alone, and unable to please. Because growing up with an alcoholic with PTSD brings about a certain type of trauma on the brain. Trauma that is hard to erase and almost impossible to escape. It follows you everywhere you go.

And I put on a brave face during the day, fill my day with activities and push myself to be busy. Because it's easier than having a moment to sit, be still, and remember. And sitting still was never my strong suit anyway. It's true that nothing here in this moment is worth singing for.



And yet, a song arises. Because even in the darkest night, nothing can steal my song. I sing praise songs at the top of my lungs, with tears pouring down my face, trying to banish the visions. I tell Satan who I belong to. The raging storm will know my force, will know that I belong to the King of Kings. And so I sing. And nothing can steal that song from me.

The song of the one who is knocked down, but gets back up. Who finds her knees on the valley floor, but climbs up the mountain no matter how hard it is, even if she has to crawl with bleeding hands. Who knows who her Savior is and won't let the enemy have the final say. So I will keep bringing symphonies to Him, over and over. Every breath I breathe. 

"Symphonies" by Natalie Grant is my anthem lately. I play it on repeat in my car, I sing it in the shower, I whisper the words in the dead of night. Satan, you can throw what you want at me. But I will never stop singing. 

And when I can't find the words to say, Lord teach my heart your melody. 

"Symphonies" lyrics

A Song for Sunday: Before the Morning

I don't like the night. Give me the sunshine. Give me the day. Give me the business that keeps me from stopping to think. Give me the agendas, the to-do lists, the work, the chores, the escapes. 

Because when night comes, when I don't pass out from mere exhaustion, my mind starts to wander and think and remember. And I don't like that. I lay in bed and battle with my mind, my emotions and beg for sleep to come so I can escape it all. Problem is I'm a night owl. I do some of my best thinking at night and my mind gets a second wind and I am wide awake. This can be a good thing and a dangerous thing. Depends on the night. 

I can't wish it away or pray it away. Sometimes we just have to walk through dark moments, no...dark seasons before the day dawns. Before the morning. I don't understand it. I hate panic attacks. I hate anxiety. I hate when people seem to think it's just mind over matter and I could wish it away if I wanted to. I can't wish it away. Because I can't forget. I can't free myself ever. There were always be a tiny bit of fear at the back of my mind. It drives me in a way. It makes me cautious. It makes me consider things I might not if I hadn't experienced what I did. 

Don't get me wrong. I don't let fear completely drive me. I know Satan is a liar and he comes to steal, kill, destroy. I battle with my spirit just like anyone. I run to Jesus and let His words provide me with a healing balm. Like medicine to my soul. But I experienced things that make me think twice before trusting anyone and cause me to tread lightly when opening up to people. I may seem open, but so many layers of me are not revealed to anyone. Because they are dark and messy and I don't even know how to cope with it allS so I don't want to invite anyone else to that struggle. 

I know others walk through deep valleys and battle like I do, some in deeper battles than others, some in darker valleys than I am. Josh Wilson's song "Before the Morning" has lyrics that cause me to break down and cry tears of thankfulness. 

I know the pain that I've been feeling can't compare to the joy that's coming. Little joys on earth. A child's hand in mine. A squeal of delight from one I love just to see me. A friend to confide in, laugh with, cry with.  The greatest joy to come one day when I see my Jesus face to face. And I know I still have a reason to sing. Always. Even in the darkest nights. 

So on the nights of anguish, I will lift my voice and sing to my Creator. Like I have since I was 8. Like I did to "drown" out the screaming. Like I did with tears pouring down my face when my heart was broken. Like I did when God's direction seemed to be opposite of what most everyone else was saying and I just didn't know. 

Once again I am at a crossroads. My future is uncertain. I don't even know what I will be doing in August yet. What job I will have. I am pursuing options, applications, interview possibilities, paper work. I am putting myself out there over and over again. I know He will lead me to what He wants me to do. But right now there are so many possibilities. And this whole not knowing thing is for the birds. It's daunting. 

But "Maybe there are things (I) can't see, And all those things are happening to bring a better ending". Because I know my ultimate ending. I know that this pain will fade one day and it's just the dark...the dark before the morning. 

Click on the link below to see the official music video to the song "Before the Morning" by Josh Wilson. Let the words seep into your soul. Yes, you still have a reason to sing. 

Josh Wilson's "Before the Morning"

A Song for Sunday: "Broken Prayers"

It's the late nights, the long days, the days when you feel you are barely surviving. It's when things from the past play on repeat in your mind like it's some sort of terrible nightmare you can never escape from. It's crying out to God and then not really knowing what to say, but just know that you need to come. And so the tears spill out and your broken heart aches and no words can be formed from your mouth, but there are so many of them in your heart. And He hears. He sees. He knows. And He does not care that you are not all put together. That you don't have all the right words. That you don't have any words. 

The song "Broken Prayers" by Riley Clemmons could be about any one of us. I know it definitely rings true with my life. Yeah I've been taught how to pray, what you are supposed to say, how to say it, the list goes on. But truth of the matter is God doesn't really care about the style of how you pray. He merely cares that you are coming to Him at all in the first place. Because when you don't know what to do, when you are at a dead end, when you feel like the world is crumbling in on you... the fact that you even come to Him at all is huge. And it doesn't go unnoticed. He hears. He sees. He knows. Trusting Him with even your ugliest of moments and your most broken of prayers is the most beautiful thing. Because it means you know He is important and that only He can make it right, even if you have no idea how in the world that will ever happen.

So next time you come to pray and you don't have the words to say, don't worry about it. Just breathe. And cry. And be with Him. Listen. Let your heart do the talking. Sing. Even when you don't feel like it. Pour yourself out before a holy God, empty yourself and let Him fill you up. 

Being okay is not the way to reach God. It's being broken. Humble. Poured out at His feet. Because it's in those moments that He meets us in a way I can't really describe. When I am at my worst, He meets me there. He sees beauty. Even in my messy, broken prayers. I  don't how or why He does. But I know He does. Because He wants all of me. And He wants all of you. Not just the fake facade we may put out on social media to look good. Not just the happy, carefree, lovely moments. But the deep, dark, messy ones. The ones we can't even share with anyone else, because they are too deep and too dark and too messy. So let Him meet you there. In your broken prayers. 

Youtube link for "Broken Prayers" music video:
Broken Prayers

Teaching is a Work of Heart

Today is National Teacher Appreciation Day and this week the school I work at is celebrating Teacher Appreciation week. I can't help but go back down memory lane and think of all the great teachers that stood out in my mind and some not so great ones that all made me into the person I am and have influenced how I teach.

So many of them have touched my heart in a special way and have taught me more than academics. These are the lessons I will hold on to all of my life. 

So without further ado, I thank you...

My Kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Bailey...

Who worked with me through my bursts of crying because I was shy and didn't want everyone staring at me for show and tell. 

Who let us write our spelling words in shaving cream and I thought it was so fun. I still do that with the kids I work with today. 

My 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Adams...

Who we thought was so strict at first but was really one of the best teachers ever.

 Who paid for us to get ice cream when we all had a great report from the PE teacher and made us walk with it behind our backs, so we didn't flaunt it to the other classes we walked past. 

 Who let us work in the garden. 

Who struggled and worked to have all of us again in 4th grade and you accomplished that. 

I had to move due to a tragic event and I just cried. 

Because I wanted you to be my teacher and I didn't want all the change. 

Who treated me like I had never left when I came back to visit. 

I will never forget that.

 It did my torn 4th grade heart so much good. 

My 4th grade teacher, Ms. Berna...

 Who was a brand new teacher and endured me correcting her spelling in front of the class and pointing out when people had skipped paragraphs in reading aloud.

 Who didn't fuss too much when I cried out of the blue. 

Because my life that year was really tough and you had no idea what I faced at home.

 But you made me smile in class.

 And I needed that. 

Who told me I was gifted and my heart soared. 

My sweet and extra-special 5th grade teacher,  Ms. Schlichter (at the time) back in Florida....

Who ministered to my heart in a way I could never fully express. 

Who let me sit in the reading corner and cry it out before starting work, because I tried so hard to be strong for my mom and tried never to cry at home.

 But when I came to school, it all came out.

 And you didn't know all of it, but you just let me cry. 

I will never forget that as long as I live.

 Because 5th grade was one of the roughest years of my life. 

Some mornings we came from a different house, because our house wasn't safe to stay at the night before.

 And I was ashamed. 

And I didn't know what to tell my friends who asked me where I was at the bus stop.

Who picked me up after school from latchkey sometimes or let me sit in your room and drove me home, because well 5th grade was tough.

Who bought me a soda one afternoon and Mrs. Haupt walked in and said something so funny to you that I laughed so hard soda came out my nose.

I tried so hard to hide it, but then I just smiled.

 Because I couldn't remember the last time I truly laughed. 

Who believed in me and told me I could do anything. 

Who spoke life into my heart that felt so dead and bleeding at times. 

Who made science so much fun until most of my middle school teachers ruined it for me. 

Whose words I just found in my yearbook out of the blue 

And I fight back the tears.

Because I needed to hear those words today too.

Who once told me I would change my mind when I told her she would always be my favorite teacher.

I never changed my mind. 

My 8th grade science teacher, Mrs. Aydelott, who is no longer here.

Who I miss more than words can tell.

Who I wish I could have said good-bye to.

When I grabbed a plastic folder for student teaching in 2014, I realized that very faintly was written my name and Mrs. Aydelott's name and I cried.

Because I realized it was my folder from 8th grade.

I almost got another folder, but then said no. I carried it with me for my inspiration.

She is my inspiration. 

The teacher who drove me to Gulf Breeze Elementary School latchkey to meet my mom and pick up her son after school every day I was with my mom, before I was ever even in her class. 

Who told me that quoting Genesis 1:1 was not the correct answer for how the world was created, since it asked according to the evolution theory. 

But tried hard not to crack a smile, because I know you believed that too. 

Who allowed me to make-up a test when I admitted to her that I cheated and I felt awful about it. 

And I came confessing to you, expecting to get a zero. 

My creative writing teacher, Mrs. Bentley in High School who encouraged me to write even the hard things. 

And told me I had a voice.

And who influenced my writing.

My 9th grade Math teacher Coach Knapp,

Who was the only coach who ever taught math that I could understand.

Or didn't laugh at us when we failed. 

Who took the time to sit right beside me to explain concepts in Algebra I just didn't get. 

Who allowed us to play games on Fridays after tests.

My 11th grade AP English teacher, and 12th grade Speech teacher Mrs. Donalson...

Who told me I had too many details in my writing. 

Who gave me constructive criticism I needed.

Who was so surprised when I took Speech, but then was blown away by my abilities. 

My 9th grade History honors and 12th grade AP US Government/Economics teacher Mrs. Ryder/Reimer...

Who brought in a burka and allowed us to try it on. And I thought it was so neat.

Who didn't tell my secret of leaving the cafeteria early so I could get to her class first and avoid the crowds. 

Who told us "Welcome to AP! There is no extra credit."

Then proceeded to tell us that there would be no extra credit in college.

First college class I had, the professor mentioned extra credit and I was like what is this foreign concept?

And thought you would be so disappointed. Ha! 

Who taught me more about my country than I ever knew and things I still remember today. 

My 10th grade History Honors and 12th grade AP U.S. History teacher Mrs. Reilly....

Who always gave us hands-on history experiences.

Who gave us fun projects.

Who brought history alive for me and I just loved it.

Who gave us  the song "We didn't Start the Fire" to either sing or memorize for extra credit and were blown away when I recited all of it by memory to you, because I was afraid of singing in front of people. 

My 11th grade Advanced Vocabulary teacher, Coach Price.

Who taught me more about words, which I loved.

Who introduced me to some really neat books.

Who could always make me laugh. 

These are not all of my teachers, but these are the ones that stick out the most in my mind that have made a positive influence on my life. Thank you seems so inadequate to say, but I don't know any other words. 

So thank you for teaching me lessons that go beyond the textbook. For loving me even in the tough times. For helping me through some hard moments in my life. For helping me along my own teaching journey. 

You may never know just how much you meant to me. On the tough days, I hope you remember that even making a difference in the life of one child is worth it. And I know you all have made a difference in the lives of so many children. So go out there and do your thing. This world only has one you and you rock at being you!

"To the world you may just be a teacher, but to your students you are a hero!"

Thanks for being my heroes. 

Beauty in the Ashes

I have learned to find beauty in all sorts of places where most people wouldn't dare to go looking for it. Not by choice, but just as I walk through this life. This world can be so painful and full of agony, but if I have learned one thing...it's that I have learned to find beauty even in the ashes. 

Late at night. I glance to my left and see the closed door, but it doesn't shut everything out. I clench my pillow, cry silent tears and my heart breaks as my family falls apart. Ashes. 

Yet, I hear a voice call out to me- God lowers His hand to mine and I take it. I whisper words to a praise hymn and I finally drift to sleep, silent tears pouring down. Beauty in the ashes.

I walk through the door, in shock, confused, and hurting. My world rocked upside down once again all in the matter of a drive home from work. My heart is bleeding. I ache. I feel unworthy. I look at the car and shudder. I don't even want to drive one anymore. Ashes. Dark, painful ashes. 

Yet, I cling to His word on nights when I can't sleep and the enemy comes back to haunt me. There I find solace and rest. I relate to those saints of old who had terrible things happen by their hand through some awful accident and God still opened His arms to them. And He opens His arms to me. Beauty in the dark, painful ashes.

I get off the phone and drop to the floor in deep, painful sobs. I can't stop. My heart is ripping in two. Just four words that rocked my world upside down all over again. It even hurts to breathe. I dedicated all of myself to one and that trust was broken, shattered into a million pieces. Who could I trust if not him? No one died, but it felt like someone had and I wanted to. Ashes. Heart breaking, life changing ashes. 

Yet, I eventually get off that floor and get back up. The Lord carries me for a time and then teaches me how to fight for myself and I am wounded yes, but I am stronger. I cling to His loyalty, because the truth is no one else really deserves my trust like He does. Because He's the only one who could really earn it. I learn more about who He is and how great a word forgiveness is. Beauty in the heart breaking, life changing ashes. 

I lay in bed, wrestling with the Lord. My eyes have been opened and it's so painful. To obey would be uncomfortable, but to disobey would be miserable. People I grew up trusting no longer have my trust and it hurts. I cry at night thinking of all the ones pushed out and I stood by and did nothing. I was fed the lies and I believed them. It makes me sick. I step out and do what the Lord has called me to, but it comes at a high price. People I thought were my friends turn their backs, I am unsure of who to trust and who I can talk to in true confidence. My heart aches like nothing I have ever known before. It wasn't an easy decision, but it was needed. Ashes. Soul aching, spirit moving ashes. 

Yet, I come to a place where I once again have to trust Him completely. Not men. Not churches. Not organizations. Not ministers. Just Him. And He is enough. I grow more than I ever thought possible and I push through the soil once again, to flourish under His guidance. Through it all, I have grown closer to the Lord than I ever was. Oh such beauty. Beauty in the soul aching, spirit moving ashes.

There are times in life when we just have to trudge through the ashes, no matter how deep and dark they are. Because, my friend, I can promise you one thing. If you are willing, you will encounter beauty in the ashes too. It will come in a simple kind word from a stranger, a thoughtful gesture from a friend, a hand reaching out to help, a heart opening up to love, or merely in the sun that rises again day after day. Beauty, yes, even in the ashes. 

"To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness, that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified.” - Isaiah 61:3

Thanks to you...

         

Thanks to you....I learned that people can't be trusted.

Thanks to you....I had to deal with a broken heart before I was even old enough to know how to cope with it. 

Thanks to you....I have a hard time when people make promises, because I am expecting them to break it even while hoping that they don't. 

Thanks to you...people looked at me weird when I yelled at them for making fun of drunk people, because they had no idea what it was like to live with one. 

Thanks to you....I found out that one could indeed actually be so scared that they make themselves sick. 

Thanks to you....I  grew up fast and was confused with the role reversals. 

Thanks to you...I cried many nights and prayed for sleep to come just so I could escape my thoughts. 

Thanks to you...I woke up in the middle of the night screaming with night terrors. 

Thanks to you...I have a hard time trusting men. 

Thanks to you...I am not even 100% sure what a good earthly father looks like. 

Thanks to you...I can't truly enjoy when people give me a lot of gifts, because I am wondering at the back of my mind if they feel guilty for something.

Thanks to you...I am afraid of even drinking one glass of wine, because I don't want to end up like you. (But turns out I hate the taste of it, so that's how God works for you lol).

Thanks to you...I freak out when ever things change. The bigger the change, the higher my anxiety level.

Thanks to you...I wasn't even out of high school when I learned how to go visit people in jail and knew the ins and outs of security checks. 

Thanks to you...I lost many nights of sleep, struggled to survive, and learned how to put up walls. 

These are all true from growing up with an alcoholic father, but my story doesn't stop there...because....

Thanks to you....I learned that Jesus can be trusted.

Thanks to you... I realized that the best one to hold my broken heart is Jesus Christ. 

Thanks to you...I figured out that God's promises are always true and He doesn't lie. 

Thanks to you...I have learned from your mistakes and have no desire to ever follow in your footsteps. God has showed me that I can break the cycle. 

Thanks to you...Now when I am scared I remember the God who was with me through it all and sing praises to Him.

Thanks to you...I learned my role in God's Kingdom and it gave me new purpose and meaning.

Thanks to you...I can lie my head down to sleep now and when I start crying, remembering those days, I can just drift to sleep in peace because I know my God holds my tears in a bottle. 

Thanks to you...when I wake up with night terrors, it just gives me an opportunity to spend sweet time with Jesus. 

Thanks to you...I learned the tell tale signs of the type of guy I don't want to marry and it has helped me realize what men can be trusted. 

Thanks to you...I turned to the Scripture to figure out what a dad really is supposed to be. 

Thanks to you...I learned that Jesus is the greatest gift-giver and there are no strings attached. 

Thanks to you...I didn't have to learn the hard way what alcohol can do to you and how it can destroy relationships 

Thanks to you...I can handle changes better, because I know my God NEVER changes. 

Thanks to you...I have compassion for people, want to help, and strive to love even the unlovable. 

Thanks to you...I am very thrifty, financially responsible, and learned that God is a God of second chances and grace which helps my walls fall down. 

Sure, growing up with you was tough. I don't feel hatred or resentment anymore, but are there nights then the past comes back to haunt me and I remember how I felt? You bet. But I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Yes I actually said that. I'm glad you were my dad. Why? Because I really doubt I would be close to Jesus if I hadn't gone through all that. God showed me that He cares for the broken hearted and is a father to the fatherless. Would I have come running into His arms so willingly if I hadn't been so wounded? I really don't think so. Many times when we are at our lowest, we learn how much we really need God. And I am so very glad that I learned that. I hope I never forget it. So thank you, for being my dad and teaching me some of the greatest lessons ever. Thanks for teaching me what it really means to put forgiveness in action and letting me practice loving a difficult person. Why? Because...that's how God loves and I want to love like He does. 

                                Thanks to you....I have been rescued and redeemed.