Tag Archives: gina minton kearns blog

In the corners of my mind

Posted on May 20, 2011 | Leave a comment
The past.  One of the most powerful weapons satan has to use on us.  He takes us down the paths that we have already walked and reminds us, in the wee hours, that our shortcomings and failings are always just a thought away.  He reminds us over and over of things we have said, wished we had said, hurts we have caused and the ones that we carry.  He tells us that our mistakes are never forgiven and urges us to not forgive.  But what he doesn’t remind us is that the past is the past.  What is done is done and cannot be altered.  It is what we do from this point on that makes or breaks us.  We can hold onto the hurts and injustices, the pain and the memories or we can break free.  He only has the power that we give him when we embrace the twisted thoughts and memories that surface when we are most vulnerable.  If we embrace the misery that he offers, then our chances of overcoming what we perceive as the most embarrassing or painful moments of our lives become less and less likely.  But there is hope for everyone who is suffering from having a past, and that list would include every human being.  Even the tiniest baby will, if they live, have a past.  There will be lost tempers, hurtful words and actions, pain and heartbreak.  It is a part of being human and living in a human world.  The world around us is as unforgiving of us as we are to ourselves.  It is beyond our own capabilities to outrun the past… and satan knows this and will gleefully use it to keep us from moving forward.  Each of us has a purpose in this life, a reason to be.  Everything that happens to us as we travel through this journey of life can be either a stumbling block to ourselves or it can make us stronger and more able to recognize the warning signs in others of the effect of their real or perceived imperfections and insecurities and enable us to lift them up.  Jesus was perfect.  He had no imperfections and for some, it is impossible to imagine a perfect person.  Someone who has no regrets or things they wish they hadn’t said or done.  I have a life full of things I wish were different and, in the dark  hours of night when I begin to relive those moments, my strength begins to falter and the darkness becomes heavier as I remember all that cannot be changed.  It is then that the Holy Spirit reminds me that what is past cannot be changed.  Rectification, reconciliation, forgiveness… they can all be given, but forgetting what we have lived, well that is a different story altogether.  The things that we have done, said or survived are all part of what makes us into who we will become.  Whether we use the past for harm or good will decide how we will relate to other people and how our actions will alter their lives.  It is not easy to overcome a past full of pain, and impossible to do it alone.  Trust in the One who understands suffering, who understands what it is like to be alone and abused, to be wrongly accused and tortured, both physically and mentally.  Trust that what you have survived will make you stronger and that you will go forth in hope.  It is these things I focus on when my own darkness threatens to overtake me and smother me with all that I cannot change.  When I need comfort, I know where to find it, but self-suffering and guilt-enabling get in the way.  The light that I know is there could shine through if I let it, but at times when I cannot seem to get past the moment, I refuse it.  But the gentle prodding of the Holy Spirit continues until my defenses are broken and the fog lifts.  I always look forward to those moments and delight in hearing the song that my God sings over me.  And during these long nights when all the things I dislike about myself manifest themselves into the demons I fight, I know that I do not fight them alone.  And therein lies my comfort.  Because no matter where I have been or where I will go… no matter what I have said or left unsaid… irregardless of how often I try to handle things myself, He loves me anyway.

Matthew 11:28 ~ Come to me, all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest

Double rainbow over Clinch Mountain, Big Moccasin, Nickelsville, VA

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My Mother’s Heart

Posted on May 7, 2011 | Leave a comment

Tonight, as I edited photographs from the last couple of days, I kept going back, time and again, to the same one.  It was like a hundred more I have taken over the years, with the same shapes and textures, but this time, I saw it in a different light.  I developed the photograph in black and white which brought out each line and crease, each flaw and each vein.  It showed that, although in color, it is nearly perfect, in a pure form, without distractions, my mother’s Bleeding Heart is imperfect and scarred.  My mind began to wander back in time and the years melted away as I saw my mother in a way I can’t ever remember seeing her… as the imperfect jewel that she is.  How her heart must have broken when mine did…  How she, like Mary, must have treasured a lot of things up in her heart.  She hid her hurt, cried when no one could see, and did what needed to be done, whatever it might be.  She cooked and cleaned and did all the motherly things that moms do, but her love is what made home a place I wanted to go.  Knowing she was there was like a balm to a burn… a kind of soothing that comes from a cool cloth on my head… there were special birthday dinners, roller skates, Journey records, leg warmers, ballgames, a huge Andy Gibb poster, a phone in my room, food in the fridge, clean clothes in the closet and a million other things that I took for granted… of course there were disagreements, tears, tantrums, hurt feelings, arguments and, my own signature contribution, plenty of stomping and slamming doors… but when all was said and done, I was me and she was my mom, always ready to run to me if I needed her… Looking back, I see what I’ve known all along… that her heart is beautiful… and so is she.

Proverbs 31:25-31

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I’m forgiven… the rest doesn’t really matter

Posted on January 21, 2011 | Leave a comment

 

It’s hard to know, sometimes, when the darkness that feels like it is closing in is, in reality, closing in.  Feelings of anxiety and paranoia mixed with increased self-confidence and a feeling of invincibility co-mingle to give a yo-yo effect that threatens to destroy what may or may not be something meaningful or important.  For someone who has never experienced nor known or been around anyone with bipolar disorder (and those of you who know me, whether you knew it or not, can take yourself off this particular list), it can be befuddling at best and, at worst, frightening.  A person with bipolar disorder can function just as well as anyone else as long as the neurons, protons, croutons and other “ons” in their brain are going about their business as usual… but it only takes one thing, usually something the person couldn’t name as a trigger if a gun was held to their head (no pun intended).  But there won’t be any of the people in the life a bipolarist who won’t see that something was off.  Usually they will talk around the dinner table to their family or perhaps discuss the situation with friends… the one person they do not talk with is the person they perceive is having a problem.  I have to ask this… if someone were witnessing a brutal beating of another human being, would they call the police or try to stop it in some way, or call their friends or gather with their family and discuss that something is wrong.  I guess I sound like i’m ranting, and i am.  I’m pretty upset at this point that all the world around me noticed that “something was up” and that I wasn’t acting myself, but chose to yuk it up with each other and discuss how different and how “not like myself” i’ve been acting.  No doubt, this entry will step on some toes and most likely hurt some feelings.  Sorry ’bout that.  After a problem has been identified, people say  “i knew something was off”.  So what were they waiting for…?  a ribbon.  These folks say repeatedly that they are my friends and are always there for me, no matter what… it is, i guess, sometimes exciting on some primitive level, to be included by proxy, in a critical situation… but what about the everyday?  The little things that don’t add up but happen with increasing frequency like snapping at people, hatefulness, dressing in clothes that look slept in, unusual eating habits, distractability, just to name a few… these need to be addressed quickly as this is especially important for the sufferer/offender, who rarely, if ever, knows this stuff they think they are “dealing with” is noticeable to the world that lives outside their brain.  When there is a known history, it becomes even more important to bring the reality of a possible crisis to light.  People suffering from functional bipolarism (my own made up term) are just like anyone else.  For the most part, their behavior is normal on every level, and during those exceptions when their behavior deviates from the norm, it is the people who are closest to them… who know them best who should be the first to say hmmm…  this ain’t right…  Satan has made me his current pasttime and, for his own jollies, is enjoying seeing me squirm.  But be that as it may, he cannot break me, for the king of my heart and soul is my savior and the song that God sings over me is beautiful.  If the devil thinks this is going unnoticed, he’s a bigger idiot than i gave him credit for.  God sees what that little pissant is up to and GOD will sustain me.  I didn’t recognize the signs.  Well, actually, that is a falsehood.  I did recognize the signs of feeling depressed, but the feelings came around the holidays and during an exceptionally bleak winter.  I attributed it to the lack of sunshine, the stress of the holidays and wild work days… to the devastation of losing my Jim, tay leaving for college, new challenges in my life.  All reasonable, analytical and fair assumptions and things people with normal brains experience just as I do.  What I didn’t see, and what “normal” brains rarely experience on any level that is noticeable, was the change in my behavior.  But many people did, yet they chose to keep that little bit of information to themselves.  Had Jim been alive, he would not only have noticed, but would have made comments on it… comments, i might add, that would have driven me to the point of distraction and i would have made an appointment with my doctor just to get him off my back.  I freely admit that I am outspoken… a trait that took me many years to attain, and one that I have no intention of giving up… but i’m not mean about it.  I often do things at the last moment, but that is no different than any other time in my life… I am an optimist… sometimes to the point where friends and family want to shove a sock in my mouth… but i don’t, on a “normal” day think i can fly… but when my behavior changes enough to be noticed by my dad, a man who would sit with the walls falling in on his head and not know it, then there is obviously a problem and it must be dealt with immediately.  I don’t deny that I am currently in a crisis brought on by my disorder nor do i deny that i have no idea what caused it.  Looking back over the past year, it is likely that jim’s death was the catalyst, but, as any bonified bipolarist will tell you, we are masters of concealment, even when we don’t know we are concealing… i don’t deny that adjustments needed to be made… i don’t deny that, now that someone has made comments on the rapidly changing moods and isolation ( my mom, who knows me better than anyone, said something first and made me evaluate my current state – i called the doctor the very next day), i was able, then,  to see the warning signs and recognize the change in my behavopr… the warning signs were screaming at the top of their lungs… they were screaming “oh my stars, girl, you are losing it”.  I had a friend, more like a sister, really, tell me today that they felt like i hated them.  If that isn’t a flag, i don’t know what is. She told me she wanted to congratulate me on my accomplishments but felt that i had been congratulating myself quite enough.  A braggart?  I don’t now, nor have i ever considered myself to be a braggart… the things i accomplish have nothing to do with me but with my God who empowers and blesses me…. that should have raised another flag. Bipolar disorder really is a neighborhood disease because let me tell you this… during a manic icandoanythingandthereisnothingtostandinmyway phase, i am in the most danger to myself… not because i think of suicide, but because there is no speed too fast,no crag to rocky, no risk to high…. because, well, because i can do anything and it will have no effect on me.  I look around at what i know, while i am drunk and sick from the new meds, and realize that i’m not sure i have friends, but instead, people who think they know me.  People who know me would see things that are out of kilter for me, then talk about it to their friends and family… I know who i can trust… I know who i could, at one time, trust, and I know who I can’t trust… sound paranoid…?  it may be.  But i’m disappointed in my friends and frankly i don’t mind telling them so. The doctor seems to think that meds that would kill a team of clydesdales are the answer, and for now, just to ensure that my brain is able to defend itself from the tentacles of satan, i will take them… but i know in my heart of hearts that what i really need is a boatride on a hot summer day…   To hear a song of praise to my  Father which speaks directly to my heart, click on the title link.  It will take you to a youtube video.  I don’t love any of you any less… know that for sure, but trust is not something i give out lightly and right now, i could count the people i trust on three fingers.  Don’t let your feelings get hurt when I don’t blubber my undying gratitude to you just because you “knew something was going on”.  Life is life… regardless of who’s living it.

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Washington DC… A dream realized

Posted on December 9, 2010 | 1 comment
It’s nearly 11:00, and while I know I should be in bed, I find that closing my eyes, knowing that I am just a 5 minute ride from the heartbeat of this wonderful country we live in is keeping me awake.  I wasn’t sure what I would see or feel or think, never having been in or around DC before… Lisa and I both came to the conclusion at the same time, tho, that were mom here, she would be sick.  The metro sways side to side, speeds up and slows down, and often, we were riding backward… Once in the city itself, I was struck first by the cleanliness of everything.  The streets, buildings, lawns, vehicles… even the squirrels… it is all just busting at the seams in anticipation of something wonderful… or maybe that is me bursting at the seams in anticipation…  the streets and buildings are decorated with lights and wreaths and the effect, with the big ol’ buildings and the stoic trees, is a mesmerizingly fascinating one.  On our walk out and about today, as we scouted out the ticket pick-up line and seating for the tree-lighting, we saw the White House, the Capitol building (from a distance) and the Washington Monument.  There are flags everywhere, on every building and post and on many of the cars.  Statues and sculptures are everywhere… some of the people, whose likenesses are preserved in stone, I have heard of and others, I haven’t.  Around every corner is an aura of oldness… of traditions that haven’t been broken in decades and a pride carried on the faces and shoulders of the locals that says it ain’t planning on breaking them any time soon.  The trees, as I imagined they would be, are stunning.  An incredible contrast between the white of the buildings, the green (how they do that in december i don’t know) of the lawns, the blue of the sky and the thousands of Christmas lights and decorations, the trees stand sentry-like, guarding in their own way those that belong to them.  The White House is beautiful, but having seen photographs of it, that does not come as a surprise… but seeing it with my own eyes made me want to cry… I could scarcely believe that another one of my dreams had come true.  The level grounds surrounding it and the huge trees flanking it on every side made it even more stunning.  And if seeing the White House wasn’t enough, the roads were barricaded and the President’s motorcade came through.  While the tinted, bullet-proof glass offered little give where photos were concerned, President Obama is in the limo, behind the driver.  He is leaned forward slightly and, sorry, Mr. President, but those ears would give you away anywhere.  I am still excited about it… i don’t think it would have been any better if he had stopped, got out, and said, “why, Gina… don’t stand out in the cold, come on and I’ll give you a ride to five guys…”  Just seeing what I saw and knowing what I know to be true was enough.  And I waved at him… I waved at the President of the United States while standing in front of the White House wearing a goofy looking hat and feeling like the cat with the keys to the milkhouse.  A once in a lifetime opportunity… but then this trip is filled with them.  I am thankful that my loving God has blessed me yet again with one of my heart’s desires and that He showed me things this day I most likely would have missed if not for His blessing…  I am not worthy, and yet here I am… God is faithful…

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you just might be a fruitcake…

Posted on November 14, 2010 | 2 comments
Ok… now I am beginning to become somewhat concerned… I wasn’t concerned when I listened to Jimmy Buffet over and over day and night for the past two weeks, at home, in the car and at work… I wasn’t really aware that I shouted out lyrics to his songs out of the blue at the oddest of times and already know nearly every word to my favorites (although, if I had been aware, I would have begun to realize that something was up)  Not really worried when I realized that I actually paid money for skull and crossbones tablecloths on a post-halloween sale to use in a “pirate motif” at my birthday dinner… didn’t flinch when I bought the “ghost pirate” at the same post-halloween sale… never occurred to me that there was a time in my life when I had not been a Parrothead and really was bummed that I was an over 40 victim of fate…  never mind my new love of boat drinks…  i’ve put myself in time-out twice for saying hell and damn… two words I never used to say… at least not out loud… It doesn’t bother me that I think, seriously, about flying down south for a few days this winter… not just south, but SOUTH… Now although everything so far has pointed towards obsessive behavior and maybe even a little, um, for lack of a better word, weird, even for me… it feels natural, like a second skin so… I didn’t realize how absorbed I had become by the “island life” and that I actually considered myself an islander… at least not until an encounter at Kroger the other night that made me realize that I might need to run to the nearest Margaritaville and have a cheeseburger in paradise until the whole fruitcake moment has passed… I was standing in front of the febreeze and glade scents… I love those new febreeze pop-up things, whatever they are, and was smelling them… they have a scatch and sniff doohickey on the front… that said, there was this man coming in my direction and he says to me “which one smells the best”… I held the one in my hand up, hawaiian some such or another, and said “this one”… so he goes and picks up one and says to me, “so what does hawaiian stuff smell like”… and I said.. and this is what made me realize that I have earned my Parrothead badge… I said “it smells like one particular harbor”…  now is that messed up or what… i need help and i need it in a hurry…  for what it’s worth, tho, he put the febreeze in his cart…
I LIKE MINE WITH LETTUCE AND TOMATOES, HEINZ 57 AND FRANCH FRIED POTATOES….

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breathe in, breathe out, move on

Posted on November 5, 2010 | 1 comment

Sometimes, at the oddest times, the oddest things happen… and sometimes, this collision of oddness creates a clarity that puts everything in perspective…  Now, just to be honest, I have never considered myself a fan of Jimmy Buffett and certainly not a Parrothead, a Pirate or a rum-drinking beach bum…  But recently, an event happened that jump-started a cataclysmic chain of events…  It was Halloween…. or close to it, anyway, when  Missy gave me a cd… her favorite jimmy buffett songs… not necessarily, as missy said, his most popular, but the ones she liked best.  I took it to the house and when I went to work on Monday, I popped it into the cd player in my car… OMStars!!!  I was instantly, irrevocably and irretrievably mesmerized… Everything I knew about Jimmy Buffett was wrapped up in Margaritaville… I had labeled him immediately as “not my thing”… and years passed.  Then, a few days ago, while listening to the cd in the car, I heard the lyrics that changed everything… “according to my watch, the time is now… the past is dead and gone… don’t try to shake it, just nod your head… breathe in, breathe out and move on”.  Now I’ve had little epiphanies before, little ones that make me say “oooh”… but this was different…  I was, of all places in the shower… Those lyrics came to mind and I looked over the past year, in which I have had to learn to live without Jim… an entire year of “wish jim could see…, as jim used to say…., on this day, jim always…”  An entire year learning to live day by day without the man I thought I couldn’t live without, but was given no choice but to do what I had deemed undoable…. then the words popped into my head “according to my watch the time is now”… and with them, the answer to the question that I didn’t remember asking… that first year, i did learn to live without jim… it wasn’t easy… as a matter of fact, it was the second most difficult thing i have ever faced… but I learned…  and now, “the past is dead and gone”… and there is no changing that… period.  “Don’t try to shake it, just nod your head”… how could you shake it even if you wanted to… life, death, happiness, sorrow, joy, pain… it’s all tied together in life… it doesn’t matter who you are, you know it… and this is where the fork in the road appears…  two choices…take the low road… wallow in what was, but will never be again… stagnate in a pool of self pity and righteous grief… or the high road where you  “breathe in, breathe out and move on”… I choose the high rode.  I spent the last year learning to live without him… Now I will live without him, for to do otherwise is to say that the life God gave me to live isn’t worth living if I have to do it alone… I will take with me the little pieces of jim that i loved so much… but at the end of the day, when the quiet settles and the dark gathers, there is no one here but me… So, with memories that I wouldn’t trade for another day of life, strength born of dragging a burden that was nearly too heavy to bear, courage born of renewed faith and a knowledge that God is who He says He is and does what He says He will do…I’m going to live and  not take a single moment of this precious life for granted…  and if God is willing to send me… I am willing to go… I want to meet His people and look at them through the eyes of the spirit… I want to look at creation… to see it all… I am praying that God will continue to take me down the path of photography until I get where He wants me to be… That I will know what to do when I get there and that every aspect of my life will glorify Jesus… and in the meantime, I will serve Him, I will worship Him and  I’ll breathe in, breathe out and move on…

Yes, I am a pirate… 200 years too late…

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Amazing Grace… how sweet the sound

Posted on September 28, 2010 | Leave a comment

This is a speech that I wrote after being asked to speak at a church in Cleveland, TN.  It was written shortly after Jim died, within a month or so, and was integral in my healing from this shock… God is faithful… and He is worthy.  I wanted to share this, as there may be another new widow out there who needs to know that God will not forsake them… no matter what

 
Hello.  Thank you for having me with you today.  My name is Gina Minton Kearns, and I am, among other things, a Christian, a photographer, writer and greeting card designer.  I live in a very small town in Southwest Virginia, on my parent’s farm.  The fields stretch out in front of the house, all the way to the road, nearly a half a mile.  The mountains loom behind it and rolling hills bypass it on either side.  It is a peaceful place.  I love it there.  I’ve loved it there since the first time I ever sat foot on it, before my Dad decided to buy it and move there.  He later, after my Jim and me were married, invited us to move by him on his land.  We went and that’s where we spent the last few years.  Jim and I would have celebrated our tenth anniversary this year.    He was called home two weeks and two days before our anniversary.  It was an awesome shock and completely unexpected.  I really can‘t think of a time in my life when the shock has literally brought me to my knees.  Coming home, expecting to find him doing something around the house, and find him dead over his coffee instead.  I remember thinking, all in a matter of seconds, “well, he’s fallen asleep at his table” and before that thought was complete “he wouldn’t do that”.  And that was true.  He wasn’t asleep.  He was dead.  Had been dead for the several hours I had been trying to reach him.    I can’t say that I was really worried about him when I couldn‘t reach him.  I assumed that he had gone somewhere and forgotten his phone, or as a worse case scenario, he had fallen or become disabled somehow while tending his peppers.  It never occurred to me that he could be dead.  It never once, not even when I was thinking of all the things that could have happened to him, not once, crossed my mind.

I went through, then, what you’d expect:  weeping, wailing, oh-noing, questioning, screaming, crying.  All of it.  Then the funeral home came and took him away.  He was buried in the little cemetery of our beloved church, in a beautiful place that watches the sunset through one of the most beautiful trees I have ever seen.  It’s like it was sewn there, by the birds or the wind, for Jim.  God knows all things.  

I love trees.  I love the sound they make in the summer, when they are full of leaves and the wind blows them.  I love the sound of them in the Autumn, when the leaves are drying and rustling in the wind – then blowing into the air to  make a colorful rainfall of leaves and falling to a carpet that smells earthy and wonderful… and the lonesome whistling as it weaves through the bare branches of wintertime.  Our lives are very similar to that of a tree through one full cycle of seasons.  We start out new and bursting with life.  Growing strong in the sunlight and the rain and all the other blessings of God… and then a season passes and we are mature, having children, bearing fruit for the next generations.  Thriving on health and fullness of life, dancing wildly in the winds and the rains after toiling in the heat of the day… and then another season passes and the children are grown, the seed mature, and gone to their own lives.  Our strength begins to falter and the winds are much harder to withstand.  By the time another season passes, we will be old and waiting for the final call of God when we can give up our suffering and be with him forever.  Bare and naked before the Lord, yet beautiful in a battle-scarred body and our faith… knowing that after another season, there will be rebirth into the place where there will be no death.  God is faithful.

It was hard losing Jim.  He was a precious gift to me from God… a gift that helped to nurture my spirit and soul as we worshipped the Jesus we loved together.  My heart was heavy, too heavy for me to bear alone, so God sent a blessing to me far beyond my wildest imaginings.   I’d like to share my story with you for it is beautiful to me how God works.  He has no care for time, for He is time… all time.  Anyway, I had cleaned out Jim’s closet as I wanted someone to get some use out of his clothes.  They are too good to waste, taking space, that if allowed, would become shrine-like and sacred.  Nothing short of what is God’s should be considered sacred.  Some of them hadn’t been worn in a long time and they smelled stale, so I washed them.  It was on the way to the clothesline with the washed clothes that God spoke to me.  We often think that we can only hear from God if we are in church or during prayer.  But God is with us always, including when we are not in church and not praying.  He is with us when we are hurting and sorrowful.  When we are guilt-ridden and burdened by the trials of this life.   So on the back porch with a basket full of wet clothes, God reached out to me.  There a blooming flower caught my eye.  A beautiful, perfectly blooming, orange calendula.  All the other flowers in the surrounding pots were dead.  The frost had killed them and they had turned brown and stood in the pots like dead trees that had never fallen.  It was then that I noticed that although the bloom had caught my eye, I could only see a tiny corner of the orange bloom, and I realized at that moment, that was how I felt.  Hidden and lost behind a forest of pain and sorrow… grief and guilt… tears and tears and tears and tears… slumping from the heaviness of the burden I had been given to bear.  I moved forward a bit and could see a bit more of the bloom.  The dead zinnia stalks with their dead seedpods were still the most prominent thing in my sight, yet there was more of the bloom than there was before.  And it was here that my journey started.
 God spoke to me through sights and feelings.  I used my camera and could feel the urging of Holy Spirit as I snapped off the photographs that were coinciding with the moments of my life I was being shown.  All the while, with each new vantage point, the days of my future were running through my head and my heart.  Not the actual day, but the essence of it with the weight of the burden I was dragging.  It was in real time.  I knew what I would feel.  I felt what I would feel.  I felt weightless and free as I lived in the moments that God was showing me. There are many trials that we face in life that drag us to our bellies, with our face in the dirt.  Obstacles that seem unsurpassable and burdens that feel unbearable.  And they are unsurpassable and unbearable if we try to get through them ourselves.  But when we turn to God to lift us up and hold us until we are able to stand, the path becomes clear and the burden lighter.  God showed this to me on that day, on the back porch, with the laundry basket at my feet.   

It never occurred to me that I would have to bear two deaths when Jim passed away.  The physical death paled in comparison to the second death.  Though both were painful, it was second, enduring death that left me shattered, broken and lost as I struggled to grasp the magnitude of enduring the reality of losing that part of him that merged with my spirit and made me feel part of the whole.  It is the knowledge that your spirit, though not broken, is severely bent and seemingly irrevocably sorrowed.  It is now that there is only the slightest glimmer of who you are behind all the pain, sorrow and weeping agony that plagues us through silent, lonely nights and empty mornings…  But after a season, although we will still be hidden behind the shadow of their missing spirit, there will be more of us.  Day by day, week by week, a battle fought hard and bitter, though at times so beautiful, the Father will continue to hold us up until our strength returns.  
 
After another season, those things which made us unique will begin to show.  The loss will still be there at the center of our heart but our spirit will slowly be spreading its wings… then at some point, there will be more of our spirit shining through and less of the pain and sorrow that ravaged it.  Although the pain and sorrow will still be there, we will be able to face it, each time, a little better than the last – for as long as we travel in this world, the sorrows and anguish will come unexpectedly… but by then, we will have become stronger than we’ve ever been.  God will have refined our faith in Him and each refining gives us strength and faith beyond what we had before.  God doesn’t want our losses and sorrows to break us.  Though we may cry, weep, pray, scream, question, beg, bargain and crash, in the end you need to choose to live your life in peace, following the roads and dreams that have culminated over a lifetime to make you special… that part you lost that completed the whole, just like the parts of others you’ve lost over the years never left – it is simply smothered, for now, underneath the grief and sorrow, but it will re-emerge in you, and through Grace, you will begin to feel whole again.  For after all, to everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.  Ecclesiastes 3:1

When we are faced with trials, sorrows, tribulations, temptations and the myriad of other things we will come across as we walk through this life, God doesn’t want us to face them alone.  We are like a candle, whose flame has not been lit.  Once lit, we can either flare out or flare up.  If we flare out, we have noting… but if we flare up, we have hope.  If the trials of life put out our light, we are no good to anyone, especially to God, since with guilt, hurt or betrayal, what more, except those curses, do we have if we have no light.  Instead, we should flare up to God.  Ask him for understanding if it is his will, but don’t give up hope.  For salvation is our hope.  And that is more important than everything else combined.   So as we sorrow or grieve for that which haunts us, we should rejoice as well, for we are children of God and have been saved by the blood of his perfect lamb.  For though this world is just a little while, Salvation is eternal, never ending.  I can’t even imagine never-ending.  I’ve tried.  But in my never-ending, there’s always an ending.  I cannot fathom something without end.  How vast – more than vast- the ocean and earth are vast, but they have ends.  Salvation without end is greater than my mind can bring clear.  Do you really and truly believe all that God has said about seasons, forgiveness, love, everlasting, salvation and eternity?  If so, then flare up for Him so that others can see His light through you.  As God said in Isaiah 1:18-20:  “Come now, let us reason together” says the Lord.  Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, though they are red like crimson, they shall be like wool.  If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land; but if you resist and rebel, you will be devoured by the sword.

Call on the Father who loves you more than anything…  Enough to watch His beautiful boy die a horrific death so that you could live with Him in glory.  He only asks for your obedience and acceptance of His son.  As we enter the season of celebration of the Holy Virgin Birth, call out to God to be with you.  He will never, ever leave you.  And He won’t, as we have done to Him so many times, let us down.  
 

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Just a short walk

Posted on September 15, 2010 | Leave a comment
Earlier tonight, i commented on a post by Janet… she had told of helping her older neighbors by walking their dog… that’s all i know about the entire thing, but it planted a seed in my head and the words just tumbled out, almost faster than I could write them… and my Father showed me a morning with my dad, when he was older and more feeble… anyone who knows him will recognize him… and anyone who doesn’t know him personally will recognize him… because his generation is everywhere…  we just usually choose not to see it… Father, help me treat others as I want my parents to be treated… with love and compassion, help and healing, conversation and company… let me serve you, LORD…. Anyway, without the Holy Spirit, my words alone cant possibly do it justice, so, if you’re willing, whether you believe in it or not, try to see it through the eyes of the spirit… here goes…
The wind rattled his bones just as hard as it rattled the windows, the shingles, the siding and the half-broken porch swing, dangling by one chain, that he just wasn’t able to fix.  Not thinking about the things he could no longer do… at least trying not to think about them, he took a deep breath and began the process of getting out of bed.  What, once upon a few decades ago, would have been quick and easy was now slow and painful.  He had tried looking at getting up in the morning like yanking off a bandage… quick and painful, but over soon… well, it wasn’t quick, but it was painful… and the soreness lasted for three days… so he’d stuck to slow and easy so he could get downstairs to breakfast.  He looked at his wife, still sleeping, and thought of how different it used to be… how more able he was to protect her and take care of her… of course that didn’t diminish his love and devotion to her… she was a strong and steady force in his life and he knew he didn’t want to live without her and selfishly, yet shamelessly, prayed, as he had ever since he laid eyes on her,  that he would go first…  he shook his head, a habit he’d picked up along the way, and took his first unsteady steps of the morning and went in the direction of the bathroom to wash his face and stuff before he went downstairs for the day.  He thought of the bathroom downstairs by the kitchen and remembered toying with the idea of expanding it into a full size bath.. of thinking how convenient it would be… he went back down the hall, passing his bedroom on the way and noticed that she had turned over… knowing she would be up soon and looking for some coffee, he made his way down the stairs, looking out over the foggy meadow toward the road… beautiful, he thought… he moved into the kitchen, glancing, as he put the kettle on to heat, toward the tiny, useless bathroom… but that was a long time ago and he couldn’t do it now even if he still wanted to… and that galled him some, still.  That, even though he does want to, he wants to very badly, he can’t…  he stirred cream into his coffee, then looked toward the stairs to make sure Flo wasn’t there, then put extra.. he sipped and sighed, then went back to his thoughts… he can’t expand the bathroom, he can’t fix the roof, he can’t mow the yard, he can’t drive… he can barely walk, even on level ground… sometimes, where his garden used to grow, he stands and gazes toward the mountain… longing to walk a ways so he can feel the breath of the wind on his face that he can’t get here on this flat ground… shaking his head,  he turned toward the east window and watched the day burst open… nothing he can do with it now anyway… he’s just too old… he feels the depression, always just a breath away, threatening to swallow him if he’ll just give in… but give in?  no way…  he’ll be there as long as his time lasts.. and when he’s done, he’ll go to Heaven… he’s never doubted that… no, he murmurs to himself, he’d never doubted that, but he also hadn’t looked ahead to reality… to becoming feeble… he just wished he were stronger… like in the old days…  But, there was trouble in the days of strength, as there is with anytime… and as he stood in the kitchen with the light of the sunrise pouring into the window, he realized that, though his body is weaker, his mind, his heart and his spirit are stronger than ever… He nods at the day and walks through the house toward the front door.  He heard the first bang of the hammer as he opened the screened door and walked onto the porch…  he heard the footsteps overhead as his roof was repaired before winter… he wasn’t able and he wasn’t rich… and God, faithful God, had, as always, provided… He thanked Him for the young men who lived nearby and had offered to do some work around the house… they were photographers and were willing to trade mountain time for hard labor… to help him and his wife  It was, he realized as he listened to the good-natured banter of youth, a good day to walk… just a little ways… into the mountain… he yanked on the new chain on the porch swing, now hanging sturdy and straight,as he opened the screened door then went back in the kitchen, fixed two cups of coffee, both with just a touch of cream, and creaked his way back up the stairs to see if his wife was up to a walk…  just a short walk, of course…

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Posted in christian, dad, farm, farmhouse, God, help, man and wife, older, story

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How Great Is our God – a true story

Posted on August 20, 2010 | Leave a comment

Have you ever heard a story over and over through the years and realized one day that you hadn’t really heard the story at all and had no clue what may or may not have happened.  Well, as of today, I have.  There is a story that has been told in my family for many years about a woman who was caught in a flash flood.  I guess all the recent rain and flooding brought it up…  The way I understood it  was that there was this woman who was caught in a flash flood, grabbed her kid, jumped out of the car and ran to a neighbor’s house, just as the car was washed away.  My WHOLE life, I have thought this to be the WHOLE story.  A little scary, but nothing to get goosebumps over.  At least not until tonight.  I was talking to mom on the phone and after exclaiming over the rain and puddles and streams and… well, you get the picture – she mentioned this story.  I said, as I have many times in the past, “yeah”, or something else lame like that.  But this time, I said something about the lady getting wet wading through the  water…It was then that I found out that I didn’t know Jack… or Jill either for that matter… but she gave me the real scoop… There was this lady living with her husband and little girl  up on a ridge over near where we go to church.  Driving down the side of the ridge into the valley, she was heading to work and was taking the little one, about eighteen months old, as she did every weekday, to the babysitter’s house.  It was raining, but, as I understand it, it was April… and around here, it rains in April.  Now, if you’ve ever been over in these parts, (or if you are from Ireland or Scotland) you know what rolling hills are and that often, the valley between two hills, over time and necessity, becomes a road.  That’s the way it is when you live in the rolling hills.  It is beautiful to look at, but, as mom told me this story, I realized how incredibly dangerous it could be.  But, I digress… so she was in the car driving down one of these little valley roads, and i use the term road loosely, when it started to rain harder.  She was mildly concerned but didn’t really worry because she’d driven on this road in all kinds of weather without any real trouble.  There was a creek (or a crick, depending) on one side of the road and the hills, quite steep, were on both sides…Having driven that road thousands of times going to church, I can say that it is a bit like driving in a city where you can only see the sky above you, except that it isn’t buildings on either side of you, it’s creation, which is a whole ‘nother ballgame.  Again, I digress… ANYWAY… it began to rain harder and water, which had been trickling down the hills, began to fill the ditch on one side of the car and the creek on the other.  A little further on, the heavenly storehouses of rain burst open and dumped the rain as from a bucket onto the already saturated ground.  The water running off the steep banks quickly became a waterfall of mud, rocks and debris barreling onto and over the car from the creek side.  Now, if you notice, at no point did I mention that the lady or her baby got out of the car.  They didn’t. The water was coming over the hills and onto the road so hard and fast that it pushed the car backwards several feet.  The car began to slide and turn sickly in the road and she tried desperately to turn the wheel away from the creek.  This is where God steps in… I just love it when He does that and love it more when I get to hear about it…  the tire of the car caught in the ditch and became wedged there, keeping it from flipping over into the creek. The water, even muddier than before and now full of rocks and debris, was pounding onto, and over, the top of the car.  Fearing that they would both drown if the car flipped into the creek, she rolled her window down.  This let in a deluge of water through the window.  This is the moment when she realized she was in BIG trouble.  The river of muddy water wasn’t just going over the car, it was pushing against the car with such force that she couldn’t open her door.  She was trapped, with the baby, in a car that was rapidly filling up with water.  She sat the little girl, who had been sitting in the front seat, (remember, this was over 40 years ago so there were no car seats) on the back of the seat to try to keep her out of the water, and rolled down the window on that side.  The water was running in her window and out the other side.  Hoping to let more of the water out, she leaned over and cracked the door on the baby’s side so some of the accumulating water could go out.  By this tiime, the water in the car was up to her bra.  Outside, the world had gone wild.  Lightning slashed the sky like a blade… before one strike could vanish, another one would be there to slit the sky open.  The thunder rolled down the valley like a bellowing bull… and the water continued to rise.  Mom said that at that moment, and I can just hear her saying this, she told me that we would ask Jesus to take care of us.  Time has a way of fooling you when you’re scared, but not only did the rain have to stop, but the water had to stop flowing over the car before she could even consider getting out.  After a period of time, she was able to push her door open, and get out.  The water she stepped into was a river of mud and rocks that came to her knees.  She took me out of the car, (she said this was the only time I cried… and can you blame me for not wanting to get out in that) and carrying me, walked, WALKED, through the muddy water, unable to tell where the creek or the road or the ditch were.  The rocks and debris that she couldn’t even see were there, were hitting her legs. Even so, she didn’t fall… she didn’t even stumble… God at work!!  There were rocks in the road that were bigger than the car she had been driving… in the road, I might add, where we would have been if the car hadn’t slid backward.  Her dress, underwear and bra were full of mud as she carried me, who wasn’t wet except a bit on my feet, to the house of a woman named Acklin… now it is pronounced just like I spelled it, but I have no idea if it’s spelled like it sounds.  She got to Acklin’s house and called Mamaw Daphne and told her we were stranded.  Grandaddy said he’d come on the tractor to get us.  A while later, Mamaw called back and said he couldn’t make it because there were rocks in the road that were BIGGER THAN THE TRACTOR.  So, in the front and the back, there were rocks big enough to crush the car, there was creek full of rushing water and a waterfall coming down on top of the car.  There is no reason we should have lived through that.  God pushed that car in the ditch because He knew the rocks were going to fall.  He saved us, plain and simple.  Jesus protected us, just as a frightened young mother and her little girl asked Him to.  Now I ask you…… HOW GREAT IS OUR GOD???  As I said, I’ve heard that story a million times, but until tonight, I didn’t even know the half of it. (by the way, the babysitter was Granny Minton) My mom is, by far, the bravest woman I have ever known.  And because of what she told me tonight, I feel brave and empowered myself.  I feel like I can do anything… and with the help of the same Jesus who looked out for mom and me on that flooded country road, I can.

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Posted in baby, blog, faith, Life, Mother, Scott County, story

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