Jun 082013
 

Five Minute FridaySometimes I feel like I have fallen so far behind I will never catch up. Then I realize I am the one who sets the standards and only I know whether or not I have fallen behind or not. So, why does this matter?

It matters for a lot of reasons. I feel like I am not being lazy when I get something accomplished. I enjoy walking into a tidy home instead of a messy one. I like to have freshly baked goods for my children instead of one’s that will last until next year. A cookie should never be safe to eat a year later!

As my brain scatters about today the word fall has suddenly reminded me of the times I fell on stairs. The darned twisted ankle or being pushed while I was pregnant and when I fainted at the top of the stairs because of a medication and falling backwards down them a lifetime ago.

Then I wonder why on earth I want to jump out of an airplane someday when falling always tends to hurt. I must be crazier than I had thought! Oh, to be free falling through the air being slowed down by the wind as I fall through it at the same time. It sounds magical, scary, exhilarating and even terrifying.

I think a lot of people associate “fall” with failing. The fall of an empire, the rise and fall of a governing force, of rancid people like Hitler, of countries that go from the top to the bottom in a matter of minutes.

Who decides who has fallen though? Is it society or culture or individuals or maybe the news that broadcasts it?

What about the people who have a personal fall that goes unnoticed? Does this mean that the fall never occurred because no one cared? Much like the question “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound?”

The best part of a fall is being able to once again rise!

Jun 022013
 

I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.
-Elie Wiesel

Five Minute FridayImagine…

The desperation one must feel to end their own life, to fly to their demise, to hang themselves, or shoot themselves in a school washroom. All stories I read this week about kids, and I mean kids, ranging in age from 9 (yes 9!) to 15 years old.

Imagine…

Being a child who wants so badly to get the attention of their parents that they have a 4.0 average, are on every team and participate in every extra-curricular activity available in hopes that your parents would see you and be proud.

Imagine…

Those parents when they found out not only did their child died at their own hand, but they died because they so desperately wanted to be noticed and loved by their parents.

Imagine…

Having to ask your child’s friends about her favorite things because you know so little about the child you had raised.

One family doesn’t have to imagine this because that is their reality. It’s unfortunate that they missed out on knowing their child; it’s unfortunate that they will never get the chance.

Bullies don’t always come in small packages (aka children) sometimes we are our own biggest bullies, sometimes our bully is perception or a feeling of being uncared for or unloved. I have known far too many people who have taken their own lives and yet instead of thinking it is a “cowardly act” likes so many proclaim. I think that it is a brave one, it is taking back control of yourself, your emotions, your life and death. It is selfish, but we all need to be selfish at some time in our lives, if we aren’t then we are only giving of ourselves and ignoring our emotions and at some point our needs are going to come to the surface, boil over and not necessarily end well.

Now Imagine…

That you reached out and talked to your children, asked how their day was, asked about their friends, put yourself into their lives, instead of just being a disciplinarian it is more crucial now than ever to also be your child’s friend and confidant because if you aren’t you may not know the pain behind the smile.

Plan to be your child’s disciplinarian, best friend, guidance counsellor, driver, biggest fan and be a part of their lives. If you think it’s too late you are wrong. Jump in wherever you are and show them the unconditional love you have for them. Make the time, because time doesn’t always exist. Unfortunately, too many of us learn this the hard way.

“If I commit suicide, it will not be to destroy myself but to put myself back together again. Suicide will be for me only one means of violently reconquering myself, of brutally invading my being, of anticipating the unpredictable approaches of God. By suicide, I reintroduce my design in nature, I shall for the first time give things the shape of my will. ” -Antonin Artaud

Imagine…

A world where kids are kids again and life no longer hurts. Imagine being free while here on earth, freedom you can achieve through Jesus if you are taught how to accept that freedom.

*Heavenly Father, please take the little children into your arms and end their suffering, give them the strength to face tomorrow, kick their personal demons out of  their lives and allow kids to be kids and love to overflow. In Jesus name I pray –Amen*

May 252013
 

Five Minute FridayI miss my old house, the house that was on family land owned for multiple generations that we had to sell this year because it just made sense financially. I miss the views, yes views. Laying in bed or on the couch and looking out the windows at trees that are so old and tall that one must stick their head out the window and look up to see the tops of these beauties.

I miss running my dogs down the trail to our spring. The view halfway down the trail that of old cow pastures that haven’t been used in years, grown in with beautiful hay that sways with the most gentle of breezes. Then of course, there is getting to the turn around point where you can see marsh and sometimes lake and you can hear the trickle of the spring, you can see it bubbling, even when it’s minus 40 and you wonder why you are outside the size of that spring and its beautiful clear water with a sandy bottom flows, it doesn’t freeze, it becomes surreal to have feet of snow around it and then to have running water right there with hundreds of animal tracks from those who live there too and need a drink.

The views are different now, the trees not quite as old, the fields are smaller and the trees shorter even some of the animals are different even though I am only 15 minutes away. I see the sky so much easier here. I am not covered in a canopy of vines and branches and hundreds of flowers are not poking through at my feet.

The one plant I did take, my bleeding heart, my grandma’s bleeding heart, has grown to several inches already and I look at it and I feel happy that I moved it and sad that I had to leave her plants, her home, her land. I can’t wait for that plant to bud and blossom for the hearts it holds that bleed remind me so much of myself, so much of the pain I feel regularly while beauty surrounds me and even becomes me at times. Yes, a view that is representative of how it hurts to know my grandma is gone, a view that gives me hope for the eternal life, a view that tells me that even when my heart bleeds beauty resides inside of me, around me and in the Heavens above.

I tire and feel saddened by my journey to where I am right now, yet the fires and the marshmallows and the “hillbilly” baseball played with a stick instead of a bat make it worth the change. The trees may be different, the walls and the light all are different, but the end gift is so worth giving all of those things up. The giggles, the belly, laughs, the excited stuttering and ever the mood swings are all a part of growing up and they are my new “view”.bleeding heart may 18th 2012

May 172013
 

Five Minute Friday

As I lay here pretending that it is warmer out then it actually is with the window open I hear the song that God created, the wind moving through the trees that are still void of leaves, the birds that sing happily even though they must think they came back far too soon. I watch the cotton candy fluffiness of the clouds float through the heavens causing the sun to go from bright to dim with the purest of blue poking through allowing me to see in a world that seems so dark and scary in the night. This blue was painted for me, this sky was painted for me by God Himself and how blessed I truly am. Reminding myself that tonight when the darkness covers the sky and the clouds hide the stars that the blue sky, the light of my God is still there, no matter how dark the sky becomes His light will always shine brighter than the sun.

Reality sings a song along with the breeze and the chirps, I hear a tractor in the distance, my dad doing something that likely doesn’t need done but gives him joy to create. Yesterday it was the chainsaw as he cut downed trees into small logs for the fire that will warm the air as we put our electronics away for several hours and the kids will roast and burn their marshmallows and the dogs will undoubtedly want to fetch until everyone’s arms are sore. The sky will still be bright as the sun doesn’t slip beyond the horizon until nearly 10 and by then everyone but me will be in their beds and likely sleeping, the mama bear in me poking my head in to hear their breaths so my heart can rest and I can sleep content that my little ones are safe.

I will inevitably hear the dogs snore and the sounds of the fish tanks water falls will sing me into my own dreams. Tomorrow when I wake up and put the critters out I will hum Amazing Grace like I always do and I will once again hear my dad outside doing something, I will hear the birds chirp and stare up at the sky.

Life isn’t just my song, it’s my lullaby.

May 042013
 

Five Minute FridayPeople say I am brave because I have been through so much in such a short amount of time and have come out the other side of hell without struggling with addiction or alcoholism or something else. What they don’t realize is how bad I hurt inside. How much I lean on and even fear my God because of the manipulation done to his word to suit the needs of man in their efforts to torture me. A large part of me is dead inside another part is perpetually bruised and the part that lives is terrified of life. So how brave am I really?

I compare my life to someone like Jaycee Dugard and in her I see bravery, in myself I see a weakness that is like a shattered mirror that has been glued together so many times all that’s left is lines and crevasses and I wonder if the next time I shatter, the next time I break if there will be enough glue to pick up the pieces and create a new me with new scars yet again. How many times can one be pushed over the edge before chards is all you are?

Some say I am brave for telling my story, but the truth is I am terrified, terrified that if I don’t speak my mind, if I don’t tell my story that someone else will become the victim of the same hands that captured me and held me for nearly 5 years. I struggle to live with myself now. I can’t imagine holding all of this in and then finding out that someone died because I kept my horrors to myself.

The only thing I feel brave in is my walk with God. For those years God and scripture were a large portion of the chains that held me firmly in the grasp of my captor. Yet I chose to face my fears and pick up a Bible and read those same words with a different pair of eyes and I saw that it wasn’t God’s will at all, it was Satan who I realized could also read, also learn scripture and quote the Bible that hijacked my life and ultimately tried to kill me.

Satan. Not God.

So while people look at me and think I am brave please don’t tell me I am brave. Don’t hold me to that word. Don’t force me to a standard I which I am unable to meet. Today I am together, for now, later one who knows. I don’t want to be an idol, I don’t want to be someone  to look up to for strength when I am so weak. Don’t turn me into a fraud by calling me brave. Instead praise the Lord that I survived and that HE saved me both now and in the end. Praise the Lord for opening my eyes to the true meaning of His word. Praise the Lord that he didn’t turn his back on me and instead he works in me every day, even when I try to push Him away. Even when the night is deep and dark I know that His light shines and that somehow, someway I will get through. I will be scarred, I will be damaged but I will belong to God –the bravest of all.

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