Walk This Road With Me, Will You? Chap.9

Almost 6 weeks since my surgery. I feel mostly healed up from that. Going on 3 months since I have had a shot for the arthritis. Tonight my joint pain is a 2. I want to be able to tell you that it has been a 2 the whole time. It has not. I have been struggling for the past couple of weeks. Gosh I hate to tell you that. I so wish I could say that my joint pain has miraculously gone or stayed minimal. But I have to be honest.  One day it is my shoulder. The next day, my wrists. Then it is my hip. Then my feet. Always my fingers. The pain has been up to an 8, maybe 9. It is so much worse at night. It steals my sleep. I am on no medication. I did take a pain pill one night, it got so bad. I don't like to do that. I do not want to depend on medication to ease my pain. That may sound crazy to some folks but I just don't.  I believe that medication is good and I do not find fault with those who need it but I have never wanted to take medication on a long-term basis. It's just me. I don't know why.
I've been talking to God a lot lately. Pain forces you to do that. I asked Him why I was having this pain. Why now? He had been so good to me over the past couple of months. I believed that He had answered my prayers ( and the many prayers of others)  concerning healing. I had thanked Him daily for His healing, thanked Him even while I was hurting. But now it seemed that the pain was getting worse instead of better. A few nights ago my shoulder was aching so bad that I couldn't sleep. I decided that I would just have to get up and take a pain pill (I had some leftover from my surgery).  I had done that a few nights earlier and I remembered how after about 20 minutes,  I got that loopy feeling and the pain began to ease and I finally went to sleep. So I was on the verge of doing that again this time. I needed relief.  I decided to pray first. I told God that I needed for the pain to ease so that I could go to sleep. I was aware that He knew how I felt about medicine. I asked Him if He would be my medicine that night. I told him that I believed with all my heart that He could ease my pain. I told Him that I would wait for Him to work, just like I had waited for the pain pill. I closed my eyes and started thanking Him over and over for all of the good things He had done for me lately. And after about 20 minutes, I realized that the pain in my shoulder had eased off. And I went to sleep.
Have you ever picked up a Bible and opened it, hoping that the very first verse you read would "speak to you"? I used to do that a lot. It never seemed to work for me. I would always get an off the wall verse that seemed to mean nothing to my circumstance. So I stopped doing that.  The other morning I was on my porch, in my swing, both wrists hurting, questioning the pain, getting ready to read my Bible. I opened it up and my eyes fell immediately on this verse:  "But He said to me, 'My Grace is sufficient for you, for my Power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weakness, so that Christ's Power can work through me." Ok.   Wow.    I thought about that for a while.  So that Christ's Power can work through me. Could it be that God was using my pain to ultimately make me who He created me to be? To get and keep my attention? To keep me focused on Him because He knows that I may not stay focused if I didn't need him?  That morning in my swing I truly felt that He was speaking to me. I made the decision to trust Him with this pain.
I used to believe in coincidence. In fact I pretty much believed that every situation that was amazing or weird was probably coincidence. I couldn't for the life of me believe that it could actually be a God thing. That seemed too far-fetched. My logical mind just couldn't accept that. I don't know how in the world I even stayed in church, believing in God. My mind was so non-spiritual at the time.
I can tell you that I have had a complete change of heart lately. Now I don't believe there is such a thing as coincidence. He has been with me. He has healed my body. He has eased my pain. He has been my medication. He has stepped in for my loved ones. He has answered some questions. He has spoken to me. He has given me peace. In spite of the pain. I simply cannot figure out how to thank Him enough for that.

This next part of my story is the hardest for me to write. It is from my standpoint but it is not about me. Looking back,  I never thought I would be able to share this part of my story. Never. My daughter shared her story recently and my son is about to do the same. Let me just say that I am beyond proud of both of them. It is not easy. We choose to share because we know that there are many like us who have gone through the same things and had the same questions. We do not pretend to have all of the answers, by far. This is just what we have honestly gone through and what we know that we need to share. We would be humbled if it helps just one.

I remember it like it was yesterday. He was playing with his toys in the kitchen floor. His daddy was at work. His sister was at school. I had just washed my hair and it was up in a towel. I heard his sweet little 3 -year- old voice ask,
"Mama? You know what I want to be when I go to school?"
"What do you want to be baby?"
"I want to be a girl."
And it felt like the floor just opened up and swallowed me whole.

That's when the begging began. Every night I begged God to let it not be true. Not that I couldn't or wouldn't love a gay son or that I would be embarrassed or ashamed, not at all. That wasn't it. It was the hurt it would cause him. I had seen it. Someone else I loved very much had gone through the same thing. I saw the judgement from others.  I saw the hate and disgust.  I couldn't reconcile it with my faith.  I didn't understand it. I was afraid for my little boy. I didn't want him to be hated. So I begged. We put him in sports. He loved to sit right beside me all the time and I made him go sit with his daddy. I prayed and I prayed and I begged and I begged. And I tried to believe. I watched from a distance, him never knowing what I was praying for. I watched him pray too, his little hand on his Bible every night, me not knowing (until much later)  that he was praying the same thing too. It was in his teenage years that we began to talk about it together. Being a Christian, I knew what I should tell him. "Run from it. Don't give in. The feelings will change. God will change you." And I did tell him that early on. I really believed that it would happen. He did too. Ricky has always had a deep love for Christ. I saw that in him very early on. I even used to joke and say that he was even more spiritual than me. It was the truth.  He always had a hunger for God. The homosexuality wasn't too much if an issue when he was younger because he really thought God would answer his prayers. And the prayers of his mother. It wasn't until he left and went away to college that he came to the realization that maybe this wasn't going to change. God seemed to be turning a deaf ear to our prayers. He kept trying. He dated a precious, beautiful girl for two years, hoping that she would be the one who could change his feelings. I remember that he would call me with his questions and look to me to give him solid answers. I couldn't. I didn't have any. By this time I had read not only the Bible, but many other books and watched documentaries and talked with other gay people. Most would tell me that they didn't believe that God was displeased with them being gay. That it wasn't a sin. How could He be when He had made them this way? That they did not choose to be attracted to the same sex. Why in the world would they choose it? I discovered that it was considered harmful to try and change your sexual identity. Many had committed suicide from the pressure of it all. I could not let that happen to my son. So when he would ask me for advice I would tell him the only thing I knew to tell him. "Just be whole. I want you whole. You will know what that looks like for you. Pursue wholeness." It was the best thing I could think of to say to him, always hoping that it was the right thing. I stopped begging God. I had spent too many years doing that. I continued to question Him. About this. Always about this. And about religion and what it all meant. It's funny, you would think that I would have just given up on God and the church but I didn't. I never even considered that. I just always knew that there were answers to my many questions and I just thought I may have to wait until Heaven so that I could ask Him myself. Still I kept searching. Forever searching......

Will you keep praying for me? Will you keep walking with me? My son shares his story in his own words in the next chapter. Stay with us........

Walk This Road With Me, Will You? Chap.8

I am posting my daughter's written story tonight on this blog. It is one of heartache and triumph. As I look back on all that she went through, there's a certain amount of guilt on my part as a mother. I missed it. I had no clue. I thought it was just normal girl adolescent behavior. I was absorbed with other things. She didn't know how to tell me and I didn't think to ask. I regret that.  It was not intentional. I have asked her forgiveness. She is such a sweet and gracious person, she says that I have nothing to ask forgiveness for. But I know that I do. Not only do I need to ask for forgiveness, I myself need to forgive someone. And that person is me. I am finding that forgiving ourselves is the hardest thing to do. But I am working on it. And He is helping me. 

Mothers pay attention to your children. Talk to them. Look for clues. Make them feel that they can tell you anything.  They need to know that they are your most prized possession. They need proper discipline just as much as they need to feel unconditional love from you at all times. Above all pray for them. They are gifts to you and they are worth it.

This is my sweet Amber's story in her own words. It takes courage to tell it. It will help someone else. I am beyond proud of her.

 

"My favorite thing to do when I was a little girl was to sing. I sang all the time. I sang at home into a pretend microphone, I sang at church, I sang on the tables at Hardee’s after church.  If I was awake, I was singing.

I remember being a happy little girl, full of joy. I loved everyone and I even liked myself. I was a straight A student  who dreamed of being a teacher, if being a singer didn’t work out.

I don’t know when but somewhere during my middle school years my happiness began to fade. I’m sure that part of it was due to the fact that I was being touched inappropriately by an older boy. I didn’t feel that I could tell anyone about this so I didn’t. The secret made me feel guilty, ashamed, worthless and ugly. I’m sure that hormones played a part in it as well, but I look back now and realize that it was something much deeper. I was overweight, wore glasses (which were huge by the way), and had a curly perm. Well, this scenario was a field day for bullies and I began to be teased relentlessly, everyday. My grades plummeted and I became sullen and moody. My dreams of being a singer vanished. My self-worth was at an all-time low.  

I managed to struggle through high school and then college, constantly feeling that I never measured up. I was clinically depressed at this point and had no clue what that meant. I just lived life the best way I knew how.

When I was 20 years old, I met my husband Dale. He was the first guy I was ever truly interested in. We became friends, then began dating, and got engaged 3 months later. I remember being so mean to him.  My mom would ask me if I loved him and I would sob and say “Yes, yes I do! I don’t know why I treat him so bad!”  I knew that I treated him terribly but I literally could not help it. It was weird but I just didn’t feel like myself and I didn’t have a clue what to do about it. I looked in the mirror and saw a young woman who was angry, irritable, and on edge--- and I hated her.

A defining moment came for me in October, 2000. I actually don’t remember much about the day. I know that I had been watching a show on TV called “Beverly Hills 90210” and on it a girl had shoplifted. I can remember going to the mall. I remember being in Maurice’s trying on clothes. I remember putting the shirt in my purse. I remember feeling numb but at the same time it was a feeling of excitement. I had the money to pay for this shirt, but I chose to steal it. I remember the salesperson stopping me. I remember the policeman and the handcuffs. I remember my Daddy coming to the police station with a bewildered look on his face. I remember seeing my mama fall back on her bed with a look of utter disbelief when we told her.  She got on the phone and called the office of a psychiatrist that she knew. I heard her calmly say, “I need to make an appointment for my daughter, something is wrong.”  She called our pastor and a few close friends to pray. I remember the visits to the psychiatrist’s office, the counseling, the medication. I remember the court dates, the newspaper, the community service hours, the embarrassment.  At church, I was told that I could not teach Children’s Church or sing in the choir for a while. I was told that I should not take the medication because there was really no such thing as depression, that it was oppression, which meant that it was something of a spiritual nature. I remember that confusing me at the time and not getting an explanation for what that meant. I just remember feeling very unworthy and guilty. The thing that kept me going was the love, understanding, and support of those who knew me and the medication which was slowly balancing those chemicals in my brain.

I felt the depression lift. Things were looking up. I married Dale in May of 2001.

While I was beginning to feel like myself, little did I realize that there was another culprit who was replacing depression as my enemy and that was anxiety and panic.

 I was convinced that something bad was going to happen. One night we were at home watching a movie with some friends and my heart started feeling like it was beating out of my chest. I couldn’t catch my breath. My chest would tighten and pain would shoot down my arm.  I literally felt like I was dying. I told Dale to take me to the emergency room where I had a cardiac workup that was normal. I was referred to a cardiologist who did every test imaginable and told me that my heart was completely healthy. The diagnosis was “panic attack.” This knowledge didn’t change the fact that these attacks were real and were occurring more and more. Although Dale was understanding and supportive, I felt very alone and isolated at this point in my life.  

I was a stay at home mom for my now TWO sweet boys and I didn’t have much outside contact. I never felt that I was a bad mom (my boys were my LIFE) but I was just obsessed with the thought that something bad was going to happen. I have to say here that I DID like to watch scary movies and shows about unsolved crime and medical mysteries. I didn’t know how much of this was impacting my anxiety. I can remember watching “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” one night and later could not get the images out of my head. It got so bad that I can even remember thinking about getting a knife and stabbing it into my brain to make it stop. I knew that I needed help. I returned to the doctor’s to get help and one doctor actually told me that if Christians would just pray more, medication wouldn’t have to be prescribed so much. You cannot imagine how much guilt and shame this caused me. You see, I DID pray. Dale and I would always pray when the attacks came. I went to another doctor who put me on anxiety medication. The panic attacks actually got worse. I was a mess and I didn’t know what to do. I stopped watching horror movies and crime stories. I read books and listened to CD’s about how to overcome anxiety but nothing seemed to be working.

There was one particular week in early 2009 where I was having panic attacks every single night. These were different and lasted longer than the other ones had. I remember one night in particular. I was having a bad panic attack and Dale was praying for me and trying to talk me out of it. I began to think, “He doesn’t deserve this. My boys don’t deserve this. They deserve so much better than me. With every new thought the panic would get worse. I remember lying there and thinking that I was going to die. It even progressed to thoughts like, “ What if I just do something bad to Dale? What if I hurt the boys?” I felt that my mind was literally unraveling.  I was exhausted. And I knew that I could not keep going like this. I felt like I had reached the end of my rope. I cannot verbalize the desperation that I felt sitting on my bed that night.

It was at this moment something happened.  I began calling on the name of Jesus. I remember whispering over and over again, “Jesus help me! Jesus you have to help me! Jesus! Jesus!”

And suddenly it was over.  It was gone. The voices fell silent and I felt peace. I layed my head down for the first time in hours and went to sleep. And I slept soundly the rest of the night. And every night after that.  That was three years ago. It was my last panic attack to this day.

I’ve always loved and followed Jesus even through the “monsters” that I was dealing with.  I am convinced that when I called His name that awful night three years ago, He heard me. There is power in Jesus’s name. I do know that God has a plan and a purpose for all of us, and His plan is to give us a future and a hope. He breaks through the lies of the enemy and He gives us back our identity. I know. He gave me back my song. He gave me back my self-worth.  Because now I don’t measure myself based on what I do. It’s all about who He is and what He did. My purpose is to exalt Him, and lift His name. For years I didn’t feel like I was even worthy enough to lift my hands to praise Him. So I didn’t. I couldn’t. Now I know that it has nothing to do with me, but it has all to do with Him. I now lift my hands to Him because like Psalm 40 says, “ He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit and gave me a firm place to stand.”

I don’t want you to think that I no longer struggle, I do. Those “monsters still try to creep in at times, but I know who I am in Christ. I am His creation and He is stronger than any “monster” that comes my way."   

I thank my daughter for her story. She has helped me along this journey more than she knows. My faith was encouraged when she told me what happened that night three years ago. And that was huge for my questioning mind. I thank God everyday that he rescued her. I cannot thank Him enough. 

I want you to know that although we are telling our stories, none of this is about us.  Everyone has a story. As I have said before, the whole purpose of telling our story is for the sake of others. I am convinced that someone needs to hear what others have to say.  

Next you will hear some of my son's story.

Keep walking with us.........

Walk This Road With Me, Will You? Chap.7

My shoulder started hurting the other day. Bad. 8 on the pain scale.  It had been 2 months since I had taken a shot for rheumatoid arthritis and this was the first real pain that I had had. Like in previous times it started with that deep, sickening ache and got worse as the day went on. By night I couldn't lift it. I prayed off and on all day. When I laid down and tried to sleep, the pain was all I could think about. I tried to ignore it. I tried to think of something else but my mind started going to thoughts like, "What am I going to do? I can't take the shots and ibuprofen doesn't even touch this pain. I could get the doctor to put me on prednisone but I can't be on that for long-term. By morning I will probably be hurting all over. I really need to be able to function. Why now?  Where is this going to end up? What in the world am I going to do?"
Then I remembered. I thought about what He had done for me at the beach. I thought about the surgery He had just brought me through and the good report of no lung cancer. I thought about the many people who had been praying for me throughout this journey. I remembered that I had asked Him for healing. I had trusted that He was going to come through for me on this. I started thinking about His promises on healing which are absolutely clear in His Word. I know because I have read them over and over. I have discussed healing with others and have gotten different opinions on what healing actually looks like. Should we pray for specific healing or should we just pray for God's will? The Bible indicates we should expect healing when we ask, that it is His will for us to be healed. I have questioned why many pray (and are prayed for) for healing and don't seem to receive it.  In fact I don't know many who have been miraculously healed, but I know a lot who have not. My son reminds me that I do not need to focus on these situations and outside circumstances more than I focus on the promises of God. I get that. That makes sense to me.
So as I laid there with my shoulder throbbing, instead of asking Him again for what I had already asked for, I started thanking Him. I thanked Him for healing me. I thanked Him over and over and it was not just words, I thought about all that He had brought me through and I sincerely thanked Him from the depths of my soul. I was able to go to sleep and when I woke up the next morning my shoulder was still aching. It ached all day. I thanked Him all day. And I came to a realization that day. I don't believe that pain and sickness are from God, but I do believe that He uses these things to increase our faith. To wake us up. The thought came to me that if God had completely taken away my pain, I would certainly not be depending on Him so much now. I realized that I was asking Him to heal my body yet I was giving no thought to the unhealthy foods that I was putting into my body nor the healthy foods that I was not feeding myself. I had wanted Him to do all the work but I realized that I bore some responsibility in this also. I believe without a doubt that He showed me this on that day.
That afternoon the pain left me. That was 4 days ago and my pain level is back down to a 2.
I don't know what's going to happen with this. I'm not bold enough to emphatically declare that I am healed!  I want to do that but honestly I don't yet know how. What I do know is that He is with me. He is speaking to me. I know what He promises me. And that promise is that ALL things work together for my good. And His glory. I choose to believe that I am healed. He's still teaching me. I'm still learning. I don't think that part will ever end until I actually see Him face to face. And on that day I will be able to thank Him in person......with a pain level of zero. :)

I want you to understand how incredibly amazing it is that I can talk to you the way that I have above. It didn't used to be me. I was somewhat of a doubter all of my life. Something happened to me the first part of July of this year. I was awakened spiritually. It came before this recent physical episode I just dealt with. It is this experience that I have been waiting to tell you about. I don't want to lose you. Stay with me. You will hear some of my son's story. I have his permission to include it. Keep walking with me. I still have so much to tell you......

Walk This Road With Me, Will You? Chap.6

It has been 2 weeks since my surgery. I just went through all of the face book messages on my page from the past few weeks and I am completely overwhelmed. All the love, prayers, well-wishes....I just can't wrap my mind around it. To say thank you seems so lacking but I don't know what else to say. I just hope that everyone knows how much I have felt and am still feeling the love. I am on the mend and doing well. Still have to watch it though. One day I will feel pretty good and over-do it a little and the next day I pay for it. I'm not use to my strength being so depleted. The biggest thing I am dealing with right now is night sweats. Oh my goodness, they are miserable! They are so different than just the hot flashes of menopause. My sheets and gown literally get soaked. It seems that they are pretty common after major surgery. My poor husband is having to change the sheets every day. I pray that they go away sooner than later:) As for the arthritis, it is not an issue. My joint pain stays around a 1 or 2.  It has been almost 9 weeks since the Enbrel shots.  I thank Him every day.

So while I was busy trying to find answers to my array of issues, life was marching on. My best friend and soulmate died of cancer at the age of 41, my daughter got married while struggling through depression and anxiety, my son went off to college while on a search to find truth, my sweet grand boys joined our family, bringing unimaginable joy, my loved ones struggled with substance abuse and I took a 10 year journey with my hero of a daddy through Alzheimer's disease. It was a most horrible journey. And it did nothing to help build my faith or answer my questions. As confused as I was, I still loved life though. I was still able to find joy in living. The good that I had always overpowered the bad. I was happy in my home and in my job. I loved my church but still there was a feeling of disconnection. Not with the people but with the religious part of it. I just felt like I didn't fit in for some reason. I still cannot explain it. But I knew one thing. I would never leave my church. That thought never even entered my mind.  What happened though is I began to lose interest. It was subtle. I used to be in church every time the doors were open. I had been so involved, all of my life and I loved it. But I found myself questioning too much. Not being able to find answers. I didn't really know how to talk about the issues I was dealing with, the Holy Ghost thing, the tongues, the homosexuality. I began to skip Wednesday nights. Then Sunday nights. It got easier and easier to just not go. My husband had his own set of church issues to deal with so he was content to stay home with me. We stopped being involved. We hardly ever gave money. We were physically and emotionally disconnecting from the church family that I had known for almost 50 years and we hardly realized what was happening. Still I never thought about leaving. I would never leave my family, even though I felt like I didn't belong. That was not anyone's fault but my own. I never got anything but love and acceptance from my church family. They just didn't know what I was going through because I didn't know how to tell them.
Shortly thereafter, a series of circumstances took place which eventually led to our leaving my church. I  can tell you in all honesty, I had never planned for this to happen and I was devastated. I literally felt like part of who I was was ripped away from me. For a long time I was numb. We immediately started looking for another church and ended up staying at the very first one we went to. I remember that the first message the pastor taught on was about Jesus. And His Grace. And how simple that is. Now, I am sure that I heard the message of Grace many times before at my former church but I had let other things that I didn't understand get in the way of it. This seemed fresh to me. And freeing. I now believe that I was in such a place in my life that I needed to hear it all from a different angle. I still missed my church family terribly but the messages I was hearing here were like life to me. I was so moved by some of them and felt like they were directed right to me, I literally could not get up from my seat when the pastor finished. I rarely cried in church, but I found myself sobbing during some of the sermons. It didn't take me long to realize that as painful as it was to leave my church, God had led us away in His timing.  I want to make it clear that it was not because my former church was bad or wrong in any way. It is a wonderful church. When we left and people would question why, I would always say, "We left a good church and we are now in a good church."  I believe with all my heart that because of the circumstances in my family's lives, some that are not even mentioned in my blogs, we were led to our current church for a reason. I will always believe that. I love my church. I miss my former one. It will likely always be like that for the rest of my life. 

I have more to tell you. The search was not over. In fact I believe that we will always be on a search for something in our lives. But I have some answers that satisfy me now. Answers that completely feel like truth to me.  And believe it or not it was my children who led me to discover answers to some of my most pressing questions about God and life. That is an amazing thought. God has used the children that He gave me to help me now understand what He is about. It is so true that He works in mysterious ways:)

My daughter will be telling her story this Sunday,  September 2nd at Forest Park Church at 8:30a,  10:00a and 11:30a. It is an incredible story. Pray for her. Come hear it if you can. And thank you again for sticking with me.......

Walk This Road With Me, Will You? Chap.5

8 days since my surgery. I am healing up well and feeling stronger every day. I have had the best caregivers:) My family and friends have been amazing to me and I could never thank them enough for caring for me so well. It has honestly not been nearly as bad as I dreaded. But usually that is the case. Dreading and waiting are the pits. 
I saw my doctor today and got the final diagnosis on what the mass was. NOT lung cancer. A carcinoid tumor in my lung. Very different from lung cancer. Rare. It is technically considered a cancer but no where near as serious as lung cancer. From what I have been told it was a slow-growing tumor, not known how long I had had it, not sure what caused it. It was completely removed and was not in my lymph nodes. So it is gone. There is no need for further treatment, just follow-up with chest x-rays at intervals. 
Now while the sound of cancer is still scary, I realize that this scenario could have been so different. I feel blessed beyond measure. The joint pain still has not been an issue. I feel that I am walking the road towards my healing. Whatever my path I know without a doubt that He is with me every step. I trust Him completely. It feels good to say that. I couldn't for a long time. 

I have always been a thinker. Let me change that. I have always been an OVER-thinker. For as long as I can remember I have tried to figure out the answers for everything. "Why are we here, what is our purpose, what is life about, how is it that we believe differently and who is right?" I have never been one of those people who can just accept things simply. "I go to this church because my mama did and so that's why I believe the way I do."  So what if your mama raised you in a different church, with different beliefs? You would then believe a different way, right?
I don't mean to sound negative about my life. Not at all. I have had a wonderfully happy life and know that I have been blessed in countless ways. I know that. I would not change a thing about my life. I have just always been aware that for me, something was missing. I know that it was spiritual. I'm not sure why this quest to find out the truth was so all-important to me, but it was. There are many, many people who are either just satisfied with what they believe or who are content to just believe nothing at all. I could find no rest in either one of those ways. Because I couldn't settle I begin to ask myself some very deep questions. I went back to the core of what I really believed. I asked myself, "So Vicky...do you believe in God"? I thought about evolution. I read about atheism. I studied the Bible. I researched it all. It did not take long for the fact that there is a God to settle within me. 100% of me believes in a Master Creator. The absolute perfectness of creation and the universe does not allow me to believe otherwise. I find it much easier to believe that "God has always been" rather than "we came from nothing". So with that fact settled, I searched on. "Are we here for a reason?"  Well if God created us, we must be. It makes sense to believe that we are. And so then I think about the Bible. And how long it has been around. How it cannot be destroyed. Now I know that it was man who actually wrote the Bible, I've heard that and actually said that a lot in my life. "Written by man but inspired by God". That seems impossible to think about, but I can tell you that there have been so many times that I have picked that Bible up in the midst of my despair and it spoke to me. That I cannot deny. Jesus? Was He really here on earth as the Son of God?    Was He really born to a young virgin girl? As a man did He really love like that and teach like that and heal like that? Did He die an awful death? For us to be able to live forever? Was He really raised from the dead and now lives with the God who created us? Is that true?  How incredible to believe that. How absolutely beautiful and amazing to believe in the hope that that brings. To us. To me. Why was it so hard to just embrace this as truth and be satisfied?  I had too much religious baggage. Too many questions with no answers. Too many unanswered prayers....... 

Again, I thank you for your prayers. Thank you for reading my blogs. Thank you for staying with me. I continue to heal as you walk beside me.

Walk This Road With Me, Will You? Chap.4

Tomorrow is the day of my surgery. Ready for it to be behind me. Ready to know. Naturally I have been thinking a lot about healing lately and what that even looks like. I have asked Him for healing. I have asked Him to let it not be cancer. I have asked Him to heal my body completely. I know that He can do this. I am believing that He will.  He is God, no matter what.
The arthritis pain is still under control. No where near what I thought it would be by now. My family and I pray daily for the pain to be manageable. And I continue to be amazed that it is. I have Tylenol and Advil just in case. So far I have not had to take either.
I have so many people who tell me they are praying for me. So many messages, cards, calls, visits.  I cannot tell you what that does for me. You are walking this road with me and I do not feel alone. There is no way I can say thank you enough for that.

As you continue along with me on my spiritual journey, I need to let you know about something else that was a major contributor to the confusion and questions I had in my quest to find out the truth about God and religion. This very thing pretty much consumed my mind during the many years of my "spiritual search".  I almost do not include this part in the telling of my story but it is so much a part of my journey that I don't see how I cannot. It is a topic that has caused many questions and much confusion by the vast majority of people. I know that it has done that for me. This that I speak of has, over the years, taken my sleep, puzzled my mind, and did nothing to help solve the never-ending questions of what God was all about. In fact it succeeded in making things worse. It is the subject of homosexuality. I cannot tell the full part of my story concerning this because it intertwines with the stories of others and theirs is not my story to tell. I can only tell you that for 25 years I have seen and listened to  people that I love and trust tell me that their sexual orientation is towards the same sex.... and they didn't choose that..... and they can't change that.  And I believe them.  And the reason is,  I've watched them cry. And I've watched them pray. And I've seen them hopeless. I have watched them struggle. I have seen and felt the hate towards them. I have witnessed the judgement. I have seen them accept it. I have seen them reject it. Only to accept it again. And my questions and confusion grew.
Which brings me back to church. And God.  I don't really remember hearing much about homosexuality while growing up in the church. It just wasn't talked about. And on the rare occasion that it was, I knew it was a bad, bad thing. The worse. In fact, whenever I did hear it mentioned, the word HELL was in the same sentence. I remember thinking that is was a good thing I wasn't that. I surely didn't want to go to hell. I didn't know anyone who was a homosexual so I didn't have to give it much thought. Then it presented itself to my world. To those people who were precious to me. People that I love very much. People that I trust. People who would not tell me lies about themselves. For the life of me I could not reconcile what the church said with what my loved ones were telling me. It just did not make sense to me in my logical mind. Thus began many years of searching for answers, reading the Bible, talking to others, listening to others, reading books, watching documentaries, begging God to change it, crying myself to sleep and just trying to come to peace with it all........

In my search I have seen that there are those who think you can just throw a Bible verse or two out and that solves the problem. They are the ones who like to say that they love the sinner but hate the sin. They are the ones who think that this particular sin is far worse that any other sin mentioned in the Bible. They think the answer is simple. Just don't be gay. Don't give in to it. I have never been able to be that person. This is too close to my heart. Too personal. And I haven't seen where that has worked. I can see where it has only caused division between the church and those who live with this. I will never forget what one person who struggles with this said to me one time. He said, "The way I see it I have 3 choices. I can live a lie and marry a woman and be miserable, or I can be who I feel that I am and be rejected by the church, or I can be alone for the rest of my life and never be in a relationship with someone I love. And for me, all of these choices suck".  I remember that statement making me so sad. I didn't see any hope in it.  I couldn't get things to settle in my mind. And I kept on searching and praying and searching.

I have to be at the hospital at 9 am tomorrow morning. I would appreciate your prayers for me and my family during these morning hours. Thank you all for holding me up so far. You can never know how thankful I am for you.
Keep reading my blogs. You cannot stop here. I have so much more to tell you. I have found some answers along this journey. They are answers that have brought me peace. They are answers that I believe to be truth. My prayer is that my answers will speak to some of you. I will never find them all and I will be on a search for the rest of my life but I am sleeping now. He is right beside me. I am thankful.

Walk This Road With Me, Will You? Chap.3

The thing that I have been thinking about so much lately is this: I am getting ready to tell you some pretty unbelievable stuff about my spiritual journey.  For most of my life I would have been the one who would read something like this, rolled my eyes and thought, "ugh, another overly religious nut-case."  I have learned that people do not listen to religious nut-cases.  Especially the non-Christian. I have seen so many times how completely ineffective that way is at leading others to Christ. I have fought hard not to be that, so I don't want to lose you while I tell you my story. I want you to believe what I am telling you. I understand, I really do. And I of all people would not tell you any of this if I didn't believe it with my whole heart.

We got home today from a wonderful week at the beach. A week that we all needed. Before we even went though, I worried about something. 4 weeks ago the doctor stopped the shots I am on for rheumatoid arthritis because of the abnormal chest xray. The effects of the shots stay in my body for about 3 weeks and then the pain in my joints comes back with a vengeance, making even washing my hair and getting up from a chair almost unbearable. I have tried at times to delay the shots because I hate being on medication but I always would end up taking a shot after about 3 weeks because the pain would be so bad. This has been the pattern my body has followed for about the last 3 years. 

Well I knew that our beach week was right at the time the shots effects would be worn off and I worried that my week at the beach would be miserable. I even thought about not going, I just knew it would be bad and with no relief because of not being able to take the shot. I didn't really know what to do about it. 

Prayer used to be a confusing thing for me. I have prayed all my life. For years my prayers were begging God for a particular thing and for years He didn't seem to be answering me.  My best friend died of cancer at age 42, my hero of a daddy got Alzheimer's disease, my daughter suffered from clinical depression, my son struggled with his identity, I was diagnosed with RA, and on and on. So I got to a point where I wondered if prayers really worked. Maybe it was just me He wasn't listening to. 

Maybe it was because I didn't have the Holy Ghost. Maybe I just didn't know how to pray. They just didn't seem to be getting through. I kept praying though.  I just got to a point where I didn't think it was doing any good. I started putting all things spiritual in a box. Things I didn't understand. God. The Holy Ghost. Religion. Salvation. Sin. Prayer. They all went into the box. I searched with all my might to find answers and truth. For most of my life I have searched. I have never been one to settle on things just for the sake of settling. I have to know the truth once and for all and I was beginning to think I might never find it.

Back to the beach. I decided to pray. I told God that I needed to be able to move and function while I was at the beach with my family. I told Him that I didn't want to not be able to play with and hold my grandchildren. I told Him that I needed my knees to be able to climb stairs and that I needed my hands to cook and wash my own hair. I told Him that I really needed for Him to come through for me this time. I asked Him with all sincerity...."please come through for me this time." Somehow my prayer felt different than before. Way down deep inside of me, I believed that He was listening.

We are home from the beach now. It has been 4 weeks since I have had a shot. I spent our week at the beach climbing, swimming, cooking, washing, and hugging. The pain is not gone but on a scale of 1 to 10 it stayed around a 2 all week. Usually it would be an 8 or 9 by now. I have thanked Him all week.  There was one day in the middle of the week where I woke up with that familiar dull ache in my shoulder. Usually that meant by the end of the day, the pain would be almost unbearable. My son was the only one with me on this day. I didn't want to tell him because I didn't want him to be discouraged. We decided to get up really early that morning and watch the sun come up over the ocean. As we sat there my shoulder began to ache even more than when I first got up. My first thought was to question God. Instead of doing that I looked at my son and said, "You know, my shoulder is aching this morning. Will you pray for me?" Without hesitation, he placed his hand on my shoulder and prayed. Then we sat there and watched the sun come up. A few hours later, he asked me about my shoulder. I had not even been aware that the pain was completely gone. And never did come back. That had never happened before. I sit here tonight writing this blog still in awe of how minimal the pain in my body is.

I have no other explanation for this other than the fact that God heard our prayers.

I don't know the reasons why sometimes it is "no", sometimes it is "yes", and sometimes it is "wait".  I don't have to know the reasons. I am content now to just know that He is God.

I want to thank you for being with me on my journey. I have had so many wonderful messages, notes, cards, etc from you and I can't thank you enough for that. You are helping me more than you could ever know. For the ones of you who are silently reading and struggling to believe, I ask that you stay with me. I was you one time not long ago. My hope was fading. The logical side of my brain was far overpowering the faith side. There is truth here. It really is beautiful. Stay with me........

Walk This Road With Me, Will You? Chap.2

Chapter 2

I am writing this while sitting by the ocean at dusk. The sun has gone down and there is a full moon out. The beach is quiet. There are a few fishermen out surf fishing, my son being one of them. There is a soft and wonderful breeze blowing off of the ocean. I feel that I could literally stay here forever.

I saw the surgeon today. He showed me the CT scan of the mass in my lung. He is not one hundred percent positive that it is cancer. The lung doctor is almost sure that it is. I am scheduled for surgery on August 16^th. The surgeon explained to me that I would be put to sleep and special tubes would be placed in my lungs while he removes the mass. While I am asleep he will send it to pathology to see if it is cancer. If it is not, he closes me up and I go home the next day. If it is, he removes the lower lobe of my right lung and I stay in the hospital for a few days. By removing the right lower lobe, he feels certain that the cancer will be gone and I will not need chemotherapy. Also he said that because I have never been a smoker, my breathing should continue to be normal. He did say that I might not be able to become a professional singer in this lifetime. Thank goodness that is not one of the items on my bucket list of things to do:)

Pray for me. Pray that the surgery goes well with no complications. Pray God’s will for my life. He is the worker of miracles. He is able to do anything. He is God no matter what. He is our shield, our Glory and the lifter up of our heads. Not only am I asking you to pray for me today, but please say a prayer for the family of an 11-year-old girl who drowned this week in my hometown area. I cannot imagine their pain. I am asking God to give them a peace that is unexplainable in this very dark time for them.

When I was a little girl I remember being happy to the point of almost being giddy all of the time. It’s hard to describe but I remember a euphoric fullness rising up inside of me at the least little thing. It was just an incredible sense of knowing who I was and loving this life to the fullest. Our family was not wealthy by any means but I never remember wanting for anything. I loved my family, I loved school, I loved Christmas, I loved books, I loved my church, and I loved potato chips. I cannot think of a thing back then that did not bring me joy. I was an unusually happy little girl with the solid belief that all was right with the world. That genuine happiness stayed with me throughout my childhood, my teenage years, and into my marriage and beyond.

I don’t remember giving God much credit for my happiness. That’s pretty strange to say since church was a huge part of my life. From birth, I was raised in a Pentecostal Holiness Church and stayed in that same church until I was almost 50 years old. I was there on Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, Wednesday nights, and all revivals. I loved my church family. They were (and are) some of the best people that God put on this earth. The friends who I grew up with are like sisters to me. I loved the singings, the picnics, the Christmas plays, the sleepovers, the trips we took, I loved everything about my church.  Except for the spiritual part. That was the thing I just could not figure out for the life of me. 

One of my earliest memories of church was when I was about 8.  I was kneeling at an altar in my home church. I remember several well-meaning older women, hair up in buns, all around me, their hands on my head, my shoulders, my back, my face. They were crying and praying and shouting for the Lord to fill me with the Holy Ghost. I remember that I was sobbing. It seemed that the more I cried the louder they got. Some of the ladies were speaking in tongues. They kept pulling on my jaw, telling me over and over to keep praying, that I almost had it. I remember feeling confused. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I don’t remember anyone ever explaining to me what the Holy Ghost was all about. I just knew that in order to be ok in God’s eyes, I needed it. I went to the altar many times after that and even though I prayed and cried and asked, it was the same. I didn’t get it. Maybe next time.  I didn’t know it then but I was beginning to develop an unhealthy view of God.  I began to believe that maybe something was wrong with me. There must be or He would give me the Holy Ghost. It made me afraid of Him.  I was taught that He didn’t want us to smoke, drink, wear nail polish or go to the movies. My skirts and dresses were always longer than my school friends and that always embarrassed me. When I got to school I would try to hike them up so I would look like everyone else. It is mortifying to be in middle school and be different.  I thought God was always mad at me and I lived with feelings of guilt. I just felt like I could never get it right and that devastated me because I wanted to so badly. Please don’t get me wrong here. I am in no way blaming the wonderful people in my church for any of this. Yes, some of the things I saw and was taught may have been misguided but these were people who truly loved me and had my best interests at heart. I was the one who internalized it all and never really talked with anyone about it. The love for my church family far outweighs anything negative that I may have experienced and I would not change any of it even if I could.

As afraid as I was of God, I was terrified of the Holy Ghost. I can remember sitting through highly emotional Holy Ghost-filled services and being so confused.. People were shouting and speaking in tongues and running around the church and falling out in the floor and I just didn’t get it. When we had those kind of church services, I remember sitting in my seat and feeling so alone. I loved church when all we did was sing and hear the preacher preach. But when the Holy Ghost showed up, that’s when I shut down. The only one that didn’t seem scary to me was Jesus. I was taught that he loved the little children. We sang songs about it and had pictures of Jesus smiling with children all around Him. I remember really loving Him because I believed He loved me. I remember asking Him to live in my heart. He was the one I prayed to when I was afraid at night. He was the one I pictured in my mind when I felt alone. He felt like a friend to me and He didn’t seem to be disappointed in me.  I didn’t realize it then, but I know now that I was clinging to that with all of my might. Little did I know, this was all the beginning of a spiritual journey for me that would I would be on for most of my life. As you walk with me I will share what I have discovered.  I am still on the journey and I still have so much to learn but I have taken a turn in the right direction. There is no way I cannot share this with you. Please stay with me……

Walk This Road With Me, Will You?

Chapter 1
Well July 2012 has been what I will call the most life-changing month in my life of almost 55 years. The sheer fact that I am laying my life open for anyone and everyone to see is amazing in itself. If you know me well, you are aware that I am a pretty private person when it comes to my family and I. However lately I have learned that unless we share our stories, there is not much of a chance of helping others who may need our story to help them through theirs. 

This July has brought about two significant events in my life. One is spiritual and the other is physical. My spiritual journey is the one that I am most excited to tell you about. But in order to get your attention, I will begin with the physical one. 

A week ago I went to a pulmonary doctor because I had an abnormal chest xray. He ordered a PET scan and today he called me with the results. A mass in my right lung which he is 90% sure is cancer. The scan came back "highly suspicious" so he wants me to have the mass surgically removed. No,I have never smoked. But I have been on a drug for rheumatoid arthritis in which one of the side effects is possible cancer. The scan showed no other areas of concern so he feels that it is contained in my lung. I have an appointment scheduled to see a surgeon next week to get more details. 

I will be honest. The fear tries to creep in. How could it not? No one likes to hear that dreaded "C" word. I have spent the last week waiting for the results, hoping and praying for the best. And while I am so thankful it is only in one area, I am aware that I have a hard road ahead. If you are willing to listen, I will bring you along with me every step of the way. I need for you to come with me if you will. I need for you to say prayers for my family and I. Most of all, I am hoping that someone will be helped by my story. It is the sole reason for telling it.
I want you to know that I am ok. Really I am. I am hopeful and very optimistic that the surgery will take care of this. I feel prepared to walk whatever path I am destined to. 
The fear that tries to creep in doesn't last long. I know what to do. And it works. I have not always been able to say that about fear. I have had fears that were different than this one and they almost paralyzed me. But I have discovered the answer to paralyzing fear. I am confident that it will work every time. And In the times when I am weak and cannot seem to get it under control, I know that there are those who will remind me of the One who can destroy fear and replace it with a peace that is unexplainable. 
There are some of you who know exactly what I mean. This blog is for the ones who don't. My story is for the ones who have no use for God. Or church. Or anything religious for that matter. It is for the ones who have shut the door. The ones who just don't think about what happens after death. The ones whose fears paralyze them at times. The ones who are searching and searching for something that they just can't seem to find. The ones who desperately want to believe but the confusion just makes it seem impossible. I know. You are the ones I need with me on my journey. I want to tell you my story. I want to share what my search has led me to. There is no confusion. It's very simple. It's all real. It's all true. I would not tell you that if it wasn't so. 
It is what's going to take me through this.

When I Live On A Mountain

When I live on a mountain, I will not miss a chance of getting up early to greet the gift of a new day.


I will grind my whole coffee beans and use fresh cream from my cow and a little real sugar:)


I will sit on my porch, sip my coffee, and stare at the sun coming up over my mountain.


I will listen to the birds sing and thank Him.


Before the dew disappears, I will walk up my mountain, Eli by my side, to gather wildflowers in the Spring.


If it is Winter, I will gather firewood.


If it is raining I will put on my boots and raincoat and go anyway. I will lift my head back, close my eyes and feel the splashes on my face. I will taste the drops on my tongue. I will consider this a gift from Him.


In the snow I will stand quietly and cry for the beauty.


I will eat and drink what He gives me from the Earth.


The wild ones will know that I am their friend.


We will watch over each other from a distance.


The days will be the same but none will be routine.


In the evening I will sit on my porch and watch as the sun leaves.


I will listen to the night's chorus and thank Him.


Then I will sleep and think of nothing. I will just sleep.


When I open my eyes, I  will feel the same joy to see the day.


I will be glad to do it all over again.


When I live on a mountain.

This Thing Called Joy

This morning was different down the lane. It started out routine, Eli needing a walk, I needing some exercise. I always pray as I walk. I don't know, something about the lane does that to me. More than not I cry. Sometimes the things I pray about overwhelm me with sadness. Someone sick. Someone discouraged. A situation. A death. When someone says "pray for me", it is most often because they need help. You almost never hear, "will you pray for me, my life is fantastic right now!" There seems to be so much pain all around. It casts a shadow on life. So even as I am thanking and asking Him for the good, my spirit still hurts for the sad. I know that this is normal. I just want the joy to outweigh the sadness. It seems funny that I have to remind myself of the joy yet I need no reminder of the sadness.    When I pray, I always thank Him first, admittedly not really feeling much joy, knowing that the sad prayers will follow. And the crying. I am not proud if this, I am just being honest:) 
This morning was different. As I thanked Him, I began to feel something. Not the usual sadness, but something different. How do I describe it?   An awareness. A knowledge. A bubbling up of something inside of me. Joy. I remember that feeling. I felt it all the time when I was a child. It was the feeling of being safe, the feeling of trusting that my father would make sure that everything was alright. I remember feeling sad at times but the joy was always there. I lost that somewhere along this journey called life. I didn't realize how much I have missed it.   
My steps got quicker. I felt a strength that I rarely feel. I started the sad prayers. I had much to pray about this morning. A family who just buried their mom yesterday. Another family already going through the unimaginable pain of Alzheimer's disease who had yet another tragic event happen during the night. A friend in a bad situation. Sadness. Usually by now I would be a blubbering, sad, helpless-feeling mess. Now don't misunderstand me, there is nothing wrong with crying and feeling sad. There is absolutely a place for it. But there is something wrong when that sadness turns into helplessness. I felt the sadness. But, on this day, I also felt the joy. I wasn't crying. I felt strong. I prayed with an awareness. I began to realize that when we pray, we should pray with the knowledge that He is listening. We should pray with authority and a boldness that shows we trust HIm. Even when it seems like things are falling apart all around us and we feel that He is not listening to us, He's got this. That's hard. But we have a choice to wallow in helplessness or rest in knowing that whatever happens, it is going to be alright. As a child I believed this. And I had joy. Pure and simple joy.
I want to get back to that. I don't want to have to remind myself of the joy, I want it to  never leave. Sadness? It will always be with me. So overwhelming at times that I am aware that joy may not be felt for a season. But I am learning a secret. It's the knowledge that if I trust with abandon and never look back, the joy will always flicker and never die out. It will always flame up and conquer the sadness, just when I need it the most. I am trusting that My Father will make sure of it. And that thought alone brings me the most incredible joy imaginable. 

My Dream

I rarely dream. This one was so vivid, so real, I need to tell you about it. 
It was night. It was dark. I was driving, alone. I came to a stop and knew that I had to turn right. There were no other cars on the roads. I made the turn and began to pick up speed. The roads were familiar but I can't tell you where I was. I knew that I was going to close my eyes. I was not sleepy. I was going fast. I felt like this was really happening. I closed my eyes. I knew that in a few seconds I would run off the side of the road. I felt it happen. I was aware that I could open my eyes any second and pull the car back on the road. I chose not to do that. I felt the jerking and shaking of the car as it plowed off the road and into whatever would be. I didn't slow down. The jerking and shaking got worse. The noise was deafening. I felt calm. I remember wondering when it was going to hurt. I waited for the pain. I was not afraid. I wanted this to be happening. It felt like this lasted forever, the jerking, the noise, the waiting. Then I suddenly woke up. My heart was racing. I could remember every detail of the dream. As I tried to make sense of it, at first I was disturbed. Did I want to die? I didn't think I wanted to die, I really love life. What could it mean? 
For the rest of the night and into the morning, I re-lived the dream over and over. For some reason I didn't want to forget it. Have you ever tried to remember a dream the next day and couldn't for the life of you? Even though I couldn't make sense of it, I knew that it was important for me not to forget it. The next day as I was telling my husband about it, a strange thing began to happen. I was beginning to understand what I believe the dream meant for me. 
I didn't realize it for a long time, but I have always been a controller of my life. I thought if I did this just right and did that just right, I would always have control of what goes on in my life and in the life of those that I loved. I thought that there was nothing that I could not fix. Just hand it over to Vicky, the fixer, and everything will be all right. Then life began to throw some things at me that I couldn't fix. That I couldn't control. The people I loved the most were being attacked. Cancer. Alzheimer's. Depression. Anxiety. Drug addiction. Identity. These were just too big for me. I didn't know how to fix them. I was devastated. I had lost control and that was very scary for me. 
When I think back, I wonder now, who in the heck did I think I was? To think that I had the power to actually control my life and the lives of others? Really?  And where had I placed God in all of this? I have been "churched" all of my life. I have always believed in God but I had a problem with trusting Him. If I allowed myself to trust, then I didn't feel in control. Besides, He didn't seem to be answering any of my prayers anyway. How could I trust Someone who I believed turned a deaf ear to my cries? I would wear the religious name for many years but I was unconvinced that He really cared about me and the affairs of my life.
Some people can go through life and never even have the desire to really seek the truth. They are content to believe and embrace whatever was taught to them or whatever they made their minds up about early on, even if it didn't make much sense. I have often wished I was like that. Life would be a lot easier. However I am not. I have questioned everything I have ever thought I believed at some point or another. I have gone down to the very depths of my soul and asked myself some very hard questions. Do I believe there is a God? That answer has always been unchanging for me. Nowhere in me is the belief that there is not One. A Godless universe and world makes no sense to me. My mind reasons that everything is too perfect to have just "happened". So if I believe in a Master Creator, as amazing as that is, what else do I believe? Why did He put us here? There must be a reason. Are we here for a purpose? There must be a plan. It makes no sense to believe otherwise. I think about the Bible and all of the incredible stories and I have heard over the years. Did it all really happen? Did this God really create an earth for us to live on, providing everything we need, giving us the ability to love, hate, be sad, and joyful? Did He later destroy the earth by a great flood? Was Noah a real person? Was Mary really a virgin when she had Jesus? Is He really the Son of God? Was He really who He said He was? Could He heal? Was it possible for Him to teach all of that in the short time He was here? Did He really love like that? Did He die on a cross? For us? And come back to life? Did that happen? 
Some say we can never know the truth about it all. Doubters try to reason it away. Some of us just never think about it. I am not that person. I have to be settled about it. Once and for all.


The way I see it I have a choice. I can believe that:
There is no God. This all just "happened". There is no reason for us to be here. This life is all we have. It's all about us and whatever it takes to make ourselves happy. Why be concerned for others? When it's over, it's over. And that's all there is to it. Live for today because there really is no tomorrow.


Or I can believe this:  
There is a God. It all really happened. He has a plan. We are here for a purpose. It is not just about us. We are here to share ourselves with others. 
His Son is the way for us all. It only takes that belief, by faith, for us to live forever. We can live forever.


I ask myself, which one of these choices do I make? Which is the one that I truly believe, way down deep in the very pit of my being? And in asking myself that question I find that I really have known the answer all along.


If I believe any of it, then I believe it all.  


I rarely open up. But this revelation that is changing my life is so vivid, so real, I need to tell you about it. It has been night for so long for me. I have often felt alone in my thinking. I am at a place where I know I need to make a turn. The right turn. I want to close my eyes and pick up speed. I want to trust Him with abandon and never look back. I know that at any second I can open my eyes and pick up that control again, but I choose not to. I realize that I will be jerked and shaken and life will be deafening and painful at times, but I want to stay calm and unafraid. I want to trust Him for what seems like forever. I want this to happen. And just as suddenly as I die, I want to wake up, heart racing, remembering every detail, re-living every promise, never forgetting that it is He and only He who is in control of every aspect of my life.


Even my dreams.