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.