Category: relationships

Magnificent Adversity ~ Finding Purpose in Pain

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His face seemed sad as he sat quietly beside me. I could tell he wanted to chat, to tell me the thoughts currently plaguing his mind.  

I struggled knowing the right questions to ask, though I could guess exactly what was coming.  

I had urged him to go to an overnight multi church event, telling him it would be fun. 

He’d been hesitant, but agreed to go. 

Since his little sister died 5 years ago, sleep has been an issue, so I obtained permission for him to bring his audio book and a noise machine our family has found to be helpful, pushing back the worry that it may be another way to set him apart. 

Sure enough.  

I watched my son, with tears in his eyes, explain how he had been the object of jokes and how the other boys had told him in plain english that he just wasn’t cool enough to be with them.  

Ugh.

I’ve thought as he’s grown, that boys are so much less drama than girls.  

How incorrect my assumption!   

I know my son is different.  

He’s left handed, dislexic, and big for his age.  

He prefers entertaining younger children over playing games with his peers and still, at age 12,  loves Thomas the Tank engine. 

He’s never been into playing ball or sports of any kind, thought we’ve offered to get him involved. 

Despite the list of things he’s not, he is a mastermind at fixing things. 

He is my troubleshooter, fixing anything from my broken food processor to the tv remote. 

Reading the hard copy of a book is not his strength but he has devoured close to a hundred full length, age/grade appropriate audio books in the past few months. 

Parenting has had many surprising twists and turns. 

I did not anticipate the sheer amount of drama that presents its ugly self each day. 

I remember some drama as a kid but the stuff my kids have experienced makes me contemplate moving the family to a deserted island. 

Just kidding of course.  

In all seriousness though, I long to protect them and just make things be ok. I wish life would treat them kindly.  Not that we need a pass for doses of extra kindness, but from my vantage point, grief pretty much made their playing field uneven, rough at the edges.  

I pray for Godly, kind friendships for each of my children and that they could be kind as God is kind, loving the unlovely and the unpopular. 

Mostly, I hope that I am not making them into feeble, frail persons who as adults will embrace a victim mentality, holding on tightly to every hurtful situation.  

As I continue to observe their stories unfolding, I am made painfully aware of how much I am just like them, insecure, awkward, unsure of who exactly God made me to be. 

This past year has been a real exercise in reminding myself almost daily that I am not the sum of what people have said and surmised me to be.

The pain of being labeled and defined by one’s weakness and past can squeeze the very life out of a hurting soul. 

It’s especially difficult when the most hateful of actions and words come from those professing the name of Christ. 

My teenage daughter spoke complete truth from one of our family’s lowest points this past summer stating simply that if the actions we have seen represent Christianity, she wants nothing of it, no part!

What then is the basis of living like Jesus, learning what God is trying to teach us and finding the good in our adversities?  

1 Thessalonians 5:11 says very simply “Encourage one another and build each other up”….

How do we do that?

The start may simply be understanding that God created each and everyone of us with meaning and purpose and treating those around us with that awareness. 

I recently sat through a super fun, community class where the main focus was studying personality differences.  We looked at our own strengths, weaknesses, joys and needs and then evaluated which other natures we get along with the easiest and how very important it is to remember the need for each and every personality God created. 

While some of the hard times in life revolve around more than simple personality differences, evaluating the reactions of others based on how God created them may help us extend grace much more freely. 

Maybe our focus is key?  

I am hoping that my children will see me work through my own pain, insecurity and awkwardness in healthy ways and that they will find the courage to seek and find God’s unique purpose for each of them and offer that grace to others. 

Living Deliberately

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Today my sweet friend buries her mother.

As I sat and chatted with her a few weeks back, she shared how she had helped her mom pick out the dress and jewelry she would be buried in. As I stood at the casket admiring the sparkle of the fabric and the beauty of the necklace, my mind of course went back to another time and another casket and the thoughts of those moments swirling in my brain.

Each death I observe seems to have that jarring effect.

My mom lost her first sibling a few months back, a brother just younger then her. They were close. My siblings and I are close to his kids. Watching them grieve has made me think about life in that sobering, change your thinking kind of way. Again.

After Abby died, I thought for sure I would never slip back into my old complacency and the lack of living intentionally. Sadly, I all to easily find myself there.

I don’t know if I will ever come to the place where guilt does not plague the thoughts of my last moments with her.

I was busy, to busy to stop and enjoy the moments.

As much as I know guilt is not the place to live, I struggle with the muddle at that very thin line between feeling sadly and living in peace.

Relationships and life in general can be intense and exhausting. Watching my friend and my cousins cope with the reality of sickness and death has reminded me much how the effort of multiple weekend trips or the time for the phone call are to soon memories and the only tokens left of the life of someone who was a deep integral part of our very foundation.

As I wrote much on my facebook grief page, I often ended with “mamas, GO hug your babies”.

That hug, smile or kind words may be the last moments we get to share.

We don’t know.

We aren’t promised tomorrow.

All we have are the moments right in front of us right now.

For me that means putting down my device or the work I think will never end and listening to my sweet daughters who both still love to talk to me, sometimes incessantly. It means hugging my touch loving son multiple times a day. It’s about calling my own sweet mama for our daily chat.

It boils down to cherishing the good, the bad and the ugly and embracing a life of intentional love.

Finding My Place

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Before I begin,  I want to emphasize:

*1. I am writing in the spirit of Proverbs 11:14 where it says “Where there is no counsel, the people fall; In the multitude of counselors there is safety”  

I am hoping to spark a discussion on a subject that has been kind of taboo.  It may not be an issue in every church and community but it has long been causing controversy, pain and division in my circles.

*2. I could journal privately…some say that may be better.  Words can’t be unsaid. However, this post has been brewing for many months. I released it last fall, and in typical Dorothy fashion caused a stir so I took it down, prayed and edited more. SO thankful for Godly mentors who have been a part of the journey to the re- release.

*3. I am not a radical secular feminist.  I believe God has distinct roles for women. He loves us and created us to bring glory to Him. 

That said, I do believe that Christianity through the centuries has fueled the fires of the ugly side of radical feminism by treating women as “less than” and allowing heinous abuse to continue under the guise of “Godly” male leadership thus encouraging many groups to succumb to embracing a shame culture…

I have bumbled about in my writings and have sometimes posted what some consider to be controversial. I’ve been told I make people squirm and feel uncomfortable, like when I posted on my own blog,  something very personal that happened to me in a 2014 blog, titled “The value of women in the church”. Can be found here: https://dorothymiller.org/2014/01/

The downside of what I have been told are my giftings are the facts that I can be bossy, overly dramatic, pushy…overbearing.  That is not my heart. 

  A while back, at a roundtable discussion of a Christian organization I belonged to,  the moderator read an anonymous comment from someone apparently irritated at how women were becoming “noticeable” in the workings of the group.  While the discussion that emerged didn’t necessarily agree with the comment, other females in the group (myself included) began to question if we were truly stepping out of place. 

This questioning  brought old yuckies out of the dark closets of my being. Part of the comment questioned if women should be “allowed” to pray out loud in public settings.  

Suddenly, I was back in time a few years, cheeks burning, wishing I could fall into a hole in the ground. I had just requested prayer for a female friend who was in a tough situation. As I turned to sit down, the group leader handed me the microphone and asked if I would stand in the gap and pray for my friend.  (Up to that point women in that group had not been asked to pray in public so I was unsure what to do.) I stood there, hands trembling as I watched the next few seconds unfold. It seemed what I had been asked to do was not proper “politically” in that setting, but I felt God’s strength and stood ready. Soon though, amidst mumbling and convo I couldn’t catch, the microphone was snatched out of my hands and a man was praying. It was ok.. but the humiliation was enough to want to make me bury myself for a thousand years.

As I continued processing the questions,  I felt hurt, devalued, a little angry maybe, and now even more unsure of my role and place in that particular group.  I began praying fervently that God would help me find HIS truth.  

After another sleepless night, I got up and started diligently searching the scriptures.  They are packed full of tidbits of wisdom and truth and are filled with all manor of commands, to love, to exhort, to be like Jesus and how that looks.  Now bear in mind that I am not a Biblical scholar by any means, though I do enjoy a good word study. This is where I came out at.

The 2 passages that have often been the basis for the role of Christian women, focus on what women can not do and from what I understand, basically refer to women not teaching or preaching to men in a church setting.  1 Corinthians 14:34 says “the women should keep silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be in submission, as the Law also says”.   1 Timothy 2:12 says “I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet”

There are many more instances in the Bible, especially in the New Testament where women are mentioned in a positive light/what they CAN do and showcase the fact that women were indeed involved in the early church.  

In Acts 16 Lydia is mentioned as one of the first to come to Christ and upon her conversion openly used her gifting of hospitality and invited Paul, the famous missionary to stay at her home. 

In Acts 18, Priscilla is mentioned along side of her husband Aquila as an example of people who actually mentored the Apostle Paul.  

In Romans 16, Phoebe served as a deacon (imagine that!) and supported the work of the church through seeing the needs of the saints.  

Acts 21 mentions the great evangelist, Philip and his daughters who were prophetesses (not a real quiet or perhaps socially pleasing calling…) 

Women in traditional Christian settings typically serve on food and sewing committees and occasionally teach Sunday school,  all of which are worthy needed parts of what makes organized church happen.  

But if we are going to say that we take 1 Corinthians 14:34 literally, then are those “offices” even ok? I may sound fanatical in asking that but really…

Passages like Romans 12 speak of the many parts of the body working together to make the Body of Christ what it is.  Are women not a part of the body?

Quite frankly I’m thinking my husband is NOT wishing to be more busy in the work of God’s church, but if women are to be quiet and only speak at home he may have to.

I don’t want to be guilty of pulling out scriptures and making them say what I need them to say.  

I fully understand that as women (and men too) our giftings and the way God created us must be tempered with his love, grace and the constant infilling of his spirit so that things will always be done to bring HIM glory. I am trying fervently to understand what God wants women to be in his church and how that really looks?

So I write here, and as I said at the beginning, am hoping to spark discussion that will shine the light brightly on God’s truth.  I thought incorrectly that when I got to the ripe old age of 40 that the Bible would be more clear and that stuff wouldn’t be so murky. 

I am finding that seeking the truth is imperative to my survival as a daughter of God. As a mother of a 13 year old female who asks many of the same hard questions that I do and who mirrors in sometimes scary ways my own nature, I must find what God really says so I can help her find her foundation in Him.

There is no doubt in my mind that each and every one of us is specially designed and created with value and purpose!

I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Beautiful Words

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Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones. Proverbs 16:24

The knots in my stomach got a little tighter. I felt my heart breaking into teeny tiny pieces as I sat with my husband listening to the angry voice rage on and on at the other end of the phone line. The room filled with tension as the voice got louder and more shrill, carelessly tossing words full of insult and accusation about as freely as the falling rain. They surrounded us both like a heavy blanket, rendering one nearly unable to breathe from the sharp pain of unsuspected attack.

The days following overflowed with numb exhaustion as we grappled with the aftermath. The line between truth and the dump truck load of accusation and condemnation that had just bombarded our tender, raw souls was barely discernible.

Sleep was laced with the uncertainty of how the situation would resolve. One morning in the last hour before dawn, and before the house was stirring I sat, Bible in hand, searching for God’s thoughts on our current perilous position. My husband groggily came to inquire what I was doing. We discussed the importance of proper response to words that are not life giving in nature and were able to do some combat against the presence of those recent hateful words and their affect on our lives using the simple truths of the Bible.

God’s word is full of instruction about words. Not only are words filled with either curses or blessings but we are told we will give account of every unnecessary word we speak. Proverbs 12:18 says “The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing“

Unbeknownst to me, God was already working to bring healing to the wounds I had received from those angry accusing words. We’d stopped at one of our favorite fast food spots to eat after our daughter’s volleyball game. As I was finishing, an old friend whom I hadn’t seen in 2 decades came up to my table and began to visit. As she walked away she hugged me and whispered “you are really looking well, you look so at peace…” She could not have known the turmoil happening in my inner soul or the pain that threatened every conversation with tears, but God did and orchestrated our meeting precisely.

The rest of that week was filled with more incidents just like that. Time after time, God sent people into my path to be honey to my hurting soul and remind me of his love and divine plan for me. Since, He’s been showing me the words He says about me in his divine word.

He says I am free from condemnation (Romans 8:1,2).

He says I have HIS spirit (Romans 5:5)

He says I am chosen (Isaiah 43:1, Psalm 139:13-16)

He says I am loved (Ephesians 2:4-9)

He says I am worthy (Matthew 10:31)

Scripture is packed full of great and precious promises so this list could go on and on. But I am thinking HIS words about me are so much more valid then whatever the enemy seeks to throw at me.

I continue my quest for finding God’s truth about the power of words and hope I can truly live according to Proverbs 31:26 She opens her mouth with wisdom,
And on her tongue is the law of kindness.

Between Two Camps

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When I first started writing in public places, I set my heart on writing from real places about real things, real emotions, real life, hoping to focus on the blessings and finding joy in life. Lately, I’ve been accused of airing dirty laundry, of speaking before thinking and being to critical, just to name a few lesser favorable opinions, so I have thought long and hard about this post and I am not out to make jabs at anyone, just kind of thinking out loud on somethings I have been pondering.

I am a big back ground person so bear with me as I get to the camps part and please hear me. I am not here for pity party or complaining. **For the record, many of you have told me how brave and strong I am, I am really not all that….

Photo by: Kali Miller

Since Abby died almost 5 years ago, it has sometimes seemed as if our life goes from one crisis to another. I am not all that fond of crisis mode. The last 2.5 years have been especially difficult. I got sick in the fall of 2017 and stayed in that state for 18 long months and during that time nearly died of sepsis and staph infection.

I was still recovering from the long illness, when one of our children became the center of some really ugly circumstances that should not have happened and have ripped at the very core of who our family is. As we have stood with our beautiful daughter, defending what we shouldn’t have to defend, the reality of sin staying hidden repeatedly reminds us of our constant need of Jesus and his light to shine into our dark circumstances.

As this particular situation has drug on and on with seemingly no resolution, it has taken it’s toll on all of us stress wise. Thinking it was just stress and the residue from how sick I had been I ignored my body trying to tell me it had more trouble, until it became apparent I would need surgery, the lovely female kind. Not quite 2 weeks ago, that happened. As I have spent time at home recovering, a trip to the ER revealed more potential scary in the form of a what the dr called a large, suspicious mass on my thyroid along with a few smaller nodules. I have excellent lab work and a 90% chance of it not being cancer but it’s a little unnerving none the less. So now I wait for more appointments with more doctors, more tests, a biopsy, results….

Here’s where the camp part comes in.

As we have have walked on in our journey, prayer is the key factor that has kept us sane. As each event has unfolded many well meaning persons have offered wise words, books, scriptures and podcasts on prayer, in addition to standing with us and actually praying.

As I see it, there are basically 2 kinds of pray-ers. There is one camp that claims and proclaims that all of their requests will be answered in the requested format. The other is more laid back in approach. Everything is asked in the “if it be thy will mode”. Both “camps” tend to be radical about their chosen view point and one can quickly feel confused or even guilty about one’s choices of how to pray.

I remember sitting with friends after Abby’s funeral and hearing them share about people they knew who had had a young child hurt in an accident. Over the course of the hours where it appeared the child might die, the parents did the “claiming prayers” and the child pulled thru. Unbeknownst to them, the child would grow up to totally reject God and his way and died in a drunk driving accident after which the parent’s grief spoke out on how they would have been much more sure of her eternal end had she left as an innocent child. Now I know that story sounds almost prudish and could be perceived as legalistic in nature. I also know that scripture itself says “you have not because you ask not…” and “by his stripes you are healed..” I have also personally seen God move in mighty ways answering both kinds of prayers. He is THE God of miracles.

I am becoming more and more inclined to think that it is more important THAT we pray and maybe not necessarily such a big deal HOW we pray.

So as I sit on the eve of another week filled with doctor’s appointments, I will continue to trust in the one who already knows the outcome even if it means I have to go back and trust all over again every single minute. And I humbly ask for your prayers, however you choose to pray.

I have also found great comfort and distraction from my own stress in praying for others. So I am availing myself here in a public format to pray for what you are facing. Comment here or message me on the link on my homepage or via facebook or instagram.

The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much…

New Things

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Isaiah 43:19 – Behold I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.

New things.

For me, new means change. Sometimes “new” is welcome. Like the new blooms after a long winter.

Other times “new” is difficult to process and endure. “New” can feel cold and be daunting, frightening, exhausting.

Photo by my daughter, Kali

Getting a website of my own and working with more definitive purpose on following a dream, my calling of sorts, is downright terrifying.

I’ve made a million mental lists as to why I should just stay put in my nice comfortable space. They go something like this. There are already a million other writers, mommy bloggers, wanna be published authors out there. What do I have to say that’s any different? What if people don’t like what I have to say? What about the chiding and scolding I’ve already experienced that just about silenced my voice forever? What if I’m not good enough?

But then I think about God’s love and provision as our family has walked through some really dark times. I think about my health and how very sick I have been and how God has spared my very life. Reflection not only brings gratitude but it helps define purpose. My purpose. If I truly believe that I am alive, breathing, here, for purpose then what do any of my lists prove? matter?

I am ok with being writer, mommy blogger, wanna be author, number one million and one. I am good with an audience of one as long as it’s the creator of the universe who designed and created me with value and purpose. Through HIM I am good enough no matter the hurtful debilitating insults tossed my way.

I’ve been listening to Zach Williams over and over as I came to the choice to actually step out (and yes I am still learning about how to be techy in presentation of links) The song is Fear is a Liar

https://youtu.be/1srs1YoTVzs

So as I embark on a new journey of sorts, I invite you to join me. What is God calling you to do? To be? What adventure is waiting for you?

Choosing Joy Over Fear

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I’ve been pondering a lot of things as I sit thinking about the year that is leaving and the year that is to come. 
It’s been a not so fun year with all my crazy health issues that lasted through out most of 18 months. My last living grandfather went to heaven this year. 
Some dreams got worked on.  Some dreams died. 
Abby’s been with Jesus for almost 4 1/2 years now and our family is doing alright. We’ve actually done well, I’d say, with all that has happened to me. 
Recently though I started connecting some of the dots to key areas we seem to struggle with….It mostly boils down to allowing fear to dominate.
 
Several times it has come up in our grief therapy. I can see it in my children.  It’s much harder to identify in myself. 
It hit me this past week. 
Beings I have been so ill, we had made the choice late this past fall, to stay home from our yearly trek to spend Christmas with my parents and siblings in South Carolina.  It was hard. I was sad.  My children just about couldn’t fathom Christmas with out Nana.
It turned out amazingly. 
Pretty near perfect. 
We had a friend’s wedding on Saturday and hosted Lowell’s mom, aunt and siblings/families on Sunday. Then it was just us.  Just us, uninterrupted for 2 whole days. We played games, laughed, relaxed, ate fun food and stayed in our jammies. I realized a bit in, that making our own traditions wasn’t half the work I had thought. 
I can not remember the last time my husband and I laughed so much or did so much dreaming together. 
It was refreshing. 
As I lay down to sleep one night, those old emotions started knocking. 
Our last 21 years has had its share of tough times. Sometimes I have really missed the fun we had before all the hard stuff hit. We used to laugh more.  We hosted people and enjoyed it immensely. We planned things together and had the most fun seeing them through. Looking at old photos, shows the laughter in our eyes and not the deep underlying grief and sadness. 
 It seems life is full of seasons and the last real magical time was the family trip to Edisto beach.  The ocean greeted us with open arms. All 5 of us have expressed feeling the magic of that time with my parents and siblings and their families.  We took a gazillion photos, ate seafood hammer down, played games and built sandcastles. We rode bikes around the island and ran after the ice cream truck. We took a huge family photo on the beach complete with Pawpaw dancing around to keep the tears at bay. 
 
2 months later Abby went to heaven and joy seemingly left, leaving grumpy tear filled days in its place. 
 
Our Miss Kendra has explained many times that in grief, it may be hard to allow oneself to enjoy life, to laugh, to live fully. 
Like I said, I see it in my kidos. My youngest in particular goes bananas, usually ending up hiding under her pillow when we watch a funny show as a family.  Laughter is almost frightening.
Her young mind and the trauma she has experienced put up a wall that make the joy in daily life painful.
 
As I lay, trying to sleep, pondering the thoughts slamming through my brain, it suddenly hit me. 
Coming through the magic of a few amazing, seriously enjoyable days serves as a breeding ground for a heavy feeling of doom and almost bracing myself for another tragedy and losing another soul I love. 
 
I can not and will not live there. 
 
Don’t get me wrong.  I am not naive. I know that life is full of good days and bad days, happy and sad, blessing and tragedy. 
I am well acquainted with grief.  My rose colored glasses have long since disappeared. 
But, God is faithful.  He is good.  I can indeed trust HIM in the easy and the hard.  He is with me in the valley and on the mountain top. I am also fully aware that the trauma we have faced as a family will continue to affect how we see things. But, I know that when the hard emotions come along, He will walk with me through the working through them process.
Do I then have it all together?
Absolutely not! 
But I know He does….
So as I set off into 2019, my conscious thought process is to allow joy to seep in and bring the gifts of laughter and dreaming along with it, thus defeating the monsters of fear. 
 
Who is with me? 
 
This is our family anthem….listen and be encouraged…

Let The Real Church Arise

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Today was a very different day then I had planned. I baked some treats to deliver to friends and neighbors. 
It was supposed to be quick. I’d be home again in 20 minutes.  
I took Lexi and as we made stops she’d jump out and run to the door, pink Santa hat bobbing. If the folks were home she’d hand off her chosen treat, wish them a Merry Christmas and head back to the warmth of the van. 
We had just a few bags left and suddenly I found myself turning down a road I hadn’t planned on going down. I thought for sure no one was home. As we waited briefly, my neighbor, whom I know just in passing, came to the door and seemed very glad to see me when she figured out who I was. We shouted polite pleasantries back and forth until I realized she wanted more. I climbed out in the cold and sat down beside her on her cement front steps. As the conversation moved along my heart broke and I watched as what seemed to be a huge dam in her heart crumble as she wept over pain many decades old. I awkwardly patted her back whispering prayers for wisdom. She’d been hurt bad by organized religion. God had let her down and she built walls high in a heart riddled with grief at the death of sibling at a young age. Christianity had recited well all the trite pious nonsense typical for those who are not well acquainted with pain and loss.
She kept thanking me for listening and kept excusing all of my time she took. I kept assuring her I was just fine and invited her to my home for a visit.  I also asked her if I could pray with her before I left. She obliged. 
As I drove home, my heart kept breaking for her pain and for the pain of others so wounded by the organized church full of those of us who are supposed to represent the name of Christ.

As I arrived home a return call was waiting for me from another person I have not seen in some time. I’d left several messages on her machine and was praying for strength to do the right thing. I’d been feeling for several weeks that I needed to apologize to her as I know she has been deeply hurt by a grouping of Christian people I am a part of.
This dear one came into our midst as a brand new believer. She was eager to learn. And she loved Jesus! Instead of encouraging her and coming along side her we showed how good we were at spouting massive amounts of judgement and harsh Pharisee like righteousness at her at every turn. Needless to say, she didn’t stay with us long.
Now I was never openly mean to her, but I didn’t step in and stop the ridiculous happenings. And to my shame I joined the mean gossip about her all to frequently.
So recently, when a similar un Christ like incident happened that I of course in typical Dorothy fashion got involved with, God started gently pressing on my heart the importance of calling her up and replacing that bad experience with grace and standing in the gap for the group collectively in asking her forgiveness for how she had been treated.

Now I did not wave a magic wand and fix her pain. I am not achieving some level of holiness and am not working on brownie points with God, but my heart keeps breaking repeatedly at the crass cruelness we as Christians exhibit to other persons God created and loves! 
When will we get it?
When will our focus change to what’s truly in the heart of God and his will for each of us?
When will we grasp how short of a time we have left here and become passionate about taking as many as we can to heaven with us?

My friend Russ took this picture of my son and his friend at our last communion. I love it on so many levels.

I wonder when we will learn how to roll up our sleeves and serve each other in love, leaving harsh judgement, criticism and un Christ like attitudes where they belong?
I wonder how many will take a stand with me and repent for the sin in our midst (even if we don’t see ourselves as guilty) and learn what exactly it means to be Jesus with skin on to those around us?  And I really wonder what could happen if we joined forces and stood together as an organized body and follow God truly? 

Time is short. Let the real church arise!


In as much as you have done it to the least of these…you have done it unto me.


2 decades plus…

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21 years ago I said I do to the man I had dreamt of marrying for several years.  
I could not believe when my prayers were really truly answered and he called and asked me out that September night in 1996.  We dated for 3 months (yup…truly)  and got engaged during the 1997 New Year’s Eve fireworks in my parent’s yard in rural Abbeville county South Carolina. 
6 months later, 9 months to the day from our 1st date we got married in a little church in Greenwood, SC with about 200 of our closest friends, family members and 500 plus fresh roses. 

 Then began our life together.  We often refer to those first 5 – 7 years as the magical ones though sometimes sadly the sadness and tragedy of the latest decade dims the beauty and the happy memories that I am glad to have recorded in photos. We had infertility which was hard and consumed a lot of moments but other then that we really did have fun.  We traveled somewhere fun for every anniversary, something I really do miss now sometimes. We had 8 anniversaries before God answered our baby prayers. 

If we are truly honest, each of us married folk will admit several things.  First off, no marriage is perfect. We have ups.  We have downs.  There are, like our marriage vows stated, good times and bad.  We have health and then sometimes sickness.  Sometimes we have plenty and sometimes nothing…
Our last decade of marriage seems to showcase those worsts. But God has always remained faithful.
We lost everything we owned (home, van, dignity..) in a failed business venture.  Through that process we nearly caved  and lost us too. But God was faithful and glued us back together. Our reunion after nearly a year apart produced what we called our 2nd honeymoon baby. 


That was the only pregnancy we took professional photos to preserve.  Abby was born 9 months after we got back together and aptly named Abby, meaning Father’s joy.  She brought joy from the father and to her earthly father and all of us in ways we could not understand. 
Then God decided He needed her back and our hearts were broken into millions of tiny pieces.  But we held on  despite the statistics that showed higher then fathomable divorce rates after the death of a child. And God was faithful.
Through Abby’s death, several people came to know the Lord in personal ways including Lowell who came to a fresh and new salvation in October of the year she died.  You can see the joy evident in his face in the pictures from that time…


The next year my mom was diagnosed with end stages colon cancer and I and the children spent 3 months once again apart from Lowell, caring for mama.  Hard hard times as our grief from losing Abby was still so very fresh.  But God was faithful.  Mama survived and is thriving…



Last fall (2017) we became well acquainted on a personal level with the “in sickness and in health” part of our vows when I became ill with sinus infection which became super bugs and resulted in surgery after which I was hospitalized with sepsis (a serious through out the body blood infection…often fatal) and staph infection.  My recovery road is long and discouraging.  9 months from my initial illness, I still am fighting off stuff that Dr’s are trying to figure out how to best treat. I have very little energy some days and sleep a lot. I am trying to go on with life but my physical limitations are restricting and I am told the recovery window for the stuff I have most recently encountered is 6 to 12 months. 
On days like today when I want to be able to feel up to celebrating I instead must focus on that faithfulness from Father God that we are well acquainted with and think with gratefulness on the blessing of simply sitting with the man I love! 
We recently enjoyed going through our wedding songs. They are all favorites however the one that stands out to both of us as a testament of what commitment really looks like.  
We hope to be able to get our very old VHS put onto a more permanent DVD or other digital format but until then we got this song uploaded to You Tube.  I think you can see it by clicking on the words below.

Enjoy! 
 Happy Anniversary to my handsome hubby…here’s to 21 more.


Real. Different. Real Different…(and all that entails)

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I have always had my quirks, those things that make me me.  I cherish the unique, the stuff that sets me apart. Sometimes it’s been simply clothing. I love my multi colored shoes from 10th grade and my black and white dress that had both stripes and polka dots on it. I derived a sense of freedom and immense happy each time I chose them from my closet. Other times it has been embracing an idea no one else gets or cheering for the underdog…
So when different doesn’t pan out to be the most coveted spot in the planet, where does the quirky, proud to be odd turn?
Life is full of seasons.  As a woman, I am not blind to the fact that many factors from our female properties make some of those seasons a bit crazy.
My writing and just being me in general has always been real. I really have nothing to hide. But sometimes I really see that real setting me apart to the point of crazy being the sign over the door and then I wish I could be not quite so open. As I age that real me has seen some real lonely. Some days, like the one I just lived thru, remind me of being the 3rd grade odd ball.  I wonder if I have horns growing out of my snout and if I am crazy for feeling like everyone on the planet has a problem with me.  Wow.  Did I really just say that out loud?    ***Here is where I could easily hit delete or close and walk away with out exposing any more of my vulnerable soul. But due to some strategic conversations recently I will plod on along…
Life sometimes sucks. Yup I said that out loud too.
For some close to me, harsh realities and unexpected not life planned out have turned normal day to day into worry central.  We are busy. And tired. We run and race to get to all we need to do.  Rest evades us. The urge to please exhausts us. We are islands to ourselves trudging through the crowds as alone as a lone ranger on a dessert path.
Yet, there is a common thread that connects us all, a God designed plan of being here to do life together. I don’t have some great profound method or plan for carrying out that plan but I have sure pondered more deeply what other women and folks in general are saying when I really stop to listen to their hearts.
My children for example,  are grappling with the concepts of growing up and many times recently as they have done new things they come around with the same old nagging question that has plagued us all since the beginning of time…”what if they don’t like me?” or “they don’t like me..”
I wonder how I can teach them to be confident in their God given quirks when I at 42 years of age am most insecure of all. I think they are amazing perfectly wonderful gifts from God (and I see some of my quirks coming thru). Often my oldest will say “but MOOOOMMMM, you think that because you’re my mom…” “Yup kido I am indeed your mama but God created you to be you…accept it.  Love it.  Embrace it.” 
It’s those conversations when my heart is bursting with love for my children that I am reminded how my Daddy God sees me.  I am sure his heart breaks when I believe the lies hammering in my ears…”you are unloved…unimportant…uncared for…ugly…worthless…annoying….


So back to that God designed plan, I was recently reminded of how important encouragement can be among us in this thing called life. My inbox stays fairly clean but the kinds of things that stay are those such as a love note from my man and a short paragraph of complete unexpected encouragement stating I was a good mother that is dated Feb 15, 2014 and is from a friend I haven’t seen in probably 20 years.
It didn’t take this friend much effort, I assume, to type a few words that have had such a profound impact on my soul.  I know I can offer that same gift to others and that is something I really want to work on doing more of. But so often I am to self absorbed and busy being me to care enough to show it.
Doing the together thing isn’t always that simple and sometimes requires more of us. We may have to get sticky, dirty and more exhausted. We may have to jump out of our comfort zone.  We may have to get really super uncomfortable.
Sometimes I think the levels of pain in our lives and in those around us walking around breathing (breathing is a connecting factor…we are alive and have purpose despite) has reached epic proportions.  Life is hard enough with out all the extra trash we throw and accept into our deepest being when it’s pitched our way.  So I will wrap these rambles up with a question or two (and I’d really love active discussion…) In what ways are you being real and different and what is your contribution the bettering the together?