Monday, September 3, 2012


I had a counseling session today.  Over the past few weeks I have been presented with opportunities to understand and begin to realize the extent of the nasty disease of alcoholism.  I am starting to see my father as God sees him and not as the man who has caused much hurt and abandonment in my life.  I am starting to see the alcohol separate from HIM.  My dad has never been physically abusive.  He was a good father when I was young.  There are abandonment issues I have due to the alcohol and the separation between he and my mother.  My dad is a good man.  The alcohol is a horrible disease.  Just so we're strait.

My counselor asked me if I prayed for my father.  Honestly I prayed for many years, but I gave up because the relationship between my father and myself has gotten worse, just as his alcohol, depression, and family crap has gotten worse.  He has not seen his grandson, my son, Isaac, since he was 9 months old and he's now 3 1/2.  I have not talked to my dad in, on my birthday, it'll be one year.  I have been hurt so many times that I am afraid I would damage him more by exploding all of my pent up anger against him and his addiction.  I need to be healed of my hurts before I can be at a place to love my dad unconditionally.  So no, I haven't been praying for my dad.  I gave up.  I put God in a box.  "The man who created the heavens and the earth and all of the things in this Earth isn't big enough to heal my father."  So I came home and for the first time in at least one year I prayed for my dad before I slept.  This is the dream I had:

I went to visit my father, alone.  I asked him where he was living now and he said, "My father's house".  But when he gave me the address, he was in the same location I grew up at when I was a kid, not at grandpa's.  The outside was almost the same but the house was different.  There were more rooms.  I was confused but I never addressed it.

We had a surfacey conversation standing outside.  We weren't looking at each other, we were facing away from the house looking into the woods where I used to play.  My grandmother had carved out of the woods a place for me to play pretend house.  I had an old queen sized bed covered in plastic where I used to jump and lay on and read during the long summer months.  I also had a kitchen at the bottom of some trees that grew close together which she nailed some old wood in between to make me counter tops.  She gave me old tupperware and pots and pans so that I could pretend play.  Then she carved a tunnel through the blackberry vines that I could run through which started from the inside of the play house forest and went all the way through to the other side of the back yard.  This was my refuge when I was a kid.

There was something different about dad. A kind of peace.  I could see it in his eyes that he knew the hurt he caused me over the years but he wasn't trying to make up for it.  He was just there to love on me.  He was more interested to know about where I had been.  I tested the waters and would open up to little things like visiting his dad and his brother, which were big no-no's growing up (I dare not tell him about my relationship with my own mom, his ex-wife).  If I were to tell him about my relationship with his family today he would be very angry.  But he engaged in the conversation with no condemnation or judgment towards me, as if he had been visiting with them as well.  

"I would have thought you would have gotten rid of this place," I said to dad after a few moments of silence while still looking into my old play ground in the woods.  As he inhaled a puff of his cigarette, he exhaled and said, "Ah....I still have some plans for it." Then he exhaled his smoke and started to walk away with a sligh smile on his face.  Dad hides his smoking addiction from me, even after I found out he was a smoker, still to this day.

As I started to follow him, I looked down and against the house were boxes of things left next to the house, as if someone was moving in.  I saw a box opened with pictures I had taken over my life time of my family.  Pictures of which I had not given my father, but somehow he still had them.  They were nicely framed and respectfully packed as if he just put the box there a moment ago and was bringing them into the house but was interrupted by my visit.  It seemed as though he was just moving in.  I wanted to take these pictures with me when I left but I didn't say anything to dad.

I continued to walk up the side of the house and there was the camper.

As a kid we had spent many hours and weekends clearing out the side of the house to make a parking spot for my grandmother's truck and camper.  She was coming for a visit and we were all going to make a road trip to Alaska for a month.  We pulled weeds, took out bushes, took down a tree, and had to burn the stump down to get the root of the tree trunk out.  Many memories of sitting around the burning stump were made with my dad.  We even roasted marshmallows a time or two.  We would both come in the house smelling like campfire and loved that we had sort of a camping experience in our own backyard.  I felt safe knowing dad was right outside my bedroom window at night as I slept, watching the burning stump, keeping the fire under control so it wouldn't burn the house down.

I walked along the path between the house and the camper and found dad doing yard work in the front yard.  As a kid my dad was always angry to do any kind of yard work and I was not allowed to be outside with him while he mowed the lawn.  He let me just be with him this time and watch him as he pushed the mower with his strong arms and trimmed the shrubbery along the front of the property.  The old gravel driveway was now paved and where there used to be grass was now the squishy foam stuff you'd find on the floor of a McDonald's indoor play yard.  I commented on how nice it would be to put this under Isaac's play set.  I thought it was strange that my dad was not discouraging me from this idea but it was almost as if he just knew I wasn't going to be able to do it.

As we walked back towards the house, along the path we just took, through the outside garage door, into the door from the garage to the house, and into the house, the house was not the same.  It was a completely different house that I had never seen before.  There was an excess amount of furniture as if it were a college frat house and many people lived there, but there was only my dad and myself present.  We walked into the living room where we had more conversations.  He was in the kitchen fixing a snack for us.  He always had a way of making something from nothing and it always tasted good to me because he made it.  If I were to eat the same foods that he prepared today, I'd probably gag.  But he made it with love and I loved my dad, therefore, I loved the food he cooked.  I loved watching him cook.

He stepped out of the room for a minute and I was alone in the house.  I looked around to gain more knowledge about who my dad is by the furniture and decorations in the house.  Then I stared at the big white refrigerator.  I walked towards the fridge and placed my hand on the handle.  Should I open it?  If I did and saw beer cans, I would be devastated.  Once again it would be another seemingly nice meeting with my dad until his disease gets the best of him and blows up on me over something insignificant in life, causing more of a divide between the two of us, while making me feel like nothing.  But it was different this time.  I didn't have to open the door.  I knew he was no longer drinking.

He walked back into the room and brought a few of his friends with him.  These friends of his happened to be some of my older friends that are currently the same age as my own father.  I've had two counselors in my life and they were there.  Both walked in and sat down on a couch.  Another friend of mine (who has a relationship with his adult daughters, even though it may be dysfunctional, they are still a close family, and I can only long to be as close to my father in that way) was running in and out of the room as if he was busy doing something, preparing for something.

Dad took me on a tour of the rest of the house.  We walked into a room full of dressers, couches and miscellaneous furniture, all stacked nicely one in front of the other as if they were in store a warehouse waiting to be sold and moved.  I asked what all of this was for and he said, "I'm moving grandpa in."  This confused me because if he was living in his "fathers house"...why would he be moving his father in... with him... to his house?  Then I saw a stair case.  I asked dad if I could see the rest of the house.  He said, "I wasn't expecting you.  It's not quite ready yet and we've got a while to go, so it's messy up there, but you're welcome to go up there and take a look around."

At the top of the stairs I saw bags of presents, balloons, rocking horses, toys, baby gates.  I realized my dad had prepared all of this for Isaac, who I had left behind because I couldn't trust myself around my dad and didn't want Isaac to witness a blow-out.  I felt horrible that he was expecting to see Isaac and I had not brought him.  As I walked back down the stairs I began to panic.  I left my son behind, but with who?  I couldn't remember who was taking care of Isaac.  I started to freak out and my counselors were comforting me.  My other friend handed me his phone after dialing a number.  "Tell him what you need and He'll help you," he said in a hurried fashion.  "What is this, a psychic line?" I said as I grabbed the phone and he ran off.

Him:  "Hello?"  "Can I help you?"

Me:  "Can you tell me where my son is?"

Him:  "I AM sorry, I can't tell you."

Me:  "Can you at least give me a hint, I'm freaking out here.  It's like my brain can't remember where I was before I got here."

There was a long silence.

Him:  "She is afraid you will leave her again."

And then He hung up.

Immediately, I knew who He was talking about.  My son was with my mom.

(After my grandmother (my father's mom) moved in with dad, soon after our Alaska trip, my mother was made to be my enemy in our house.  My 9th grade year would be the last year I would spend with my mom for 7 years.  We have healed our relationship over the years and she is an integral part of my life as well as my family's life.)

When I gave the phone back to my friend, I started to grab my purse and keys to go get my son and bring him back... that's when I woke up.

My heart pounding heavily and tears starting to well up in my eyes, I started to process this whole dream immediately after I awoke this afternoon from a nap.  I was confused.  Majorly confused.  But my processing was quickly interrupted by a loud, "Heaven", in my head.  *gasp!* *lightbulb!* I was in heaven visiting my dad some time in our future after he passes and I am left on earth without him...and without closure or healing.  My dad WAS in his Father's house, his heavenly Father.  My friends who love and care about me had been waiting for me right along side my dad, getting to know him to pass the time until I arrived.  I hadn't arrived yet.  I wasn't dead.  I was visiting him for just a quick moment.  My dad had been preparing a place for all the people he loved to arrive: my room was in the woods where I still find my refuge to this day, Isaac's room was upstairs with all of the presents my dad wished he would have given him over his lifetime, and the back room full of furniture for his own father.  The box of photo's were pictures God gave him to comfort him in all the time he missed out on.  I can imagine God sitting down with my dad in heaven going through each and every memory my dad has missed out on and re-living it with him, for him.  God was filling in the gaps of my father's life that has been taken by alcohol, depression, and family hurts.

This was my first memory verse as a child when I attended Christian school for Kindergarten and 1st Grade:

Jesus Comforts His Disciples:
"Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Trust in God; trust also in me.  In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you.  I am going there to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will com back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.  You know the way to the place where I am going." John 14: 1-4

God then spoke to me and said, "I love you.  And I know all of your hurts.  I know the pain your father has caused you.  I also know your father and know all of his hurts and I. Love. Him. Too.  It is not your responsibility to fix your father.  He is mine, not yours, and his life is mine, not yours."

I sat up in my bed with tears rolling down my cheeks.  I was heavily weeping.  For a moment I pondered, "Was this really from God?"  Then my ears tuned into my son's radio where we keep the christian radio station on 24/7.  "I Can Only Imagine" by Mercy Me was playing:

From the 2009 Dove Awards: Mercy Me - I Can Only Imagine and Finally Home

I may not be able to fix my father, but with God's help, He's healing me one day at a time from the lies that have been planted in me my entire life.  I pray that someone will come into his life and tell him about this great God of mine.  And I pray he can be healed from his own lies planted in him before it's too late and enjoy some of his time on earth.  My dream gave me hope.  My God gives me hope.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Security Blanket

I still consider myself a baby at times.  I became a Christian 9 years ago and was baptized 7 years ago.  There are days I feel I just don't get this whole mess and then I remember, I am only 9.  I remember 9.  I was in the 3rd grade for most of 9.  The year we learned to write in cursive and my teacher had an amazing teddy bear collection I envied.  I was old enough to think, "Isn't she a little old to have stuffed animals"?  We made crayon art by melting crayons on a burner and pouring them on a piece of paper.  I was old enough to be given the responsibility to work with appliances that could potentially burn me.  I became a woman that year (I'll save you the details...women, you know what that means), wore a bra, and beat every boy on the playground at teatherball.  I cursed one out and got in big trouble.  I was old enough to know right from wrong, old enough to start thinking about others instead of myself...not all the time of course, I was only 9.  But I realized when I cursed that boy out how I must have really embarrassed him in front of all of his friends and felt horrible about what I had done.  And in bed at night as I slept, I still sucked my thumb with my blankie.

In many ways, my walk with Christ is just as if I was in the 3rd grade.  I've walked with Him long enough to be entrusted with things that might burn me if I'm not careful.  I'm becoming more of a woman of God the closer I get to Him.  I know that when I'm not choosing to walk with Him, my thoughtless words spoke in the heat of a moment can hurt and embarrass others just like I caused hurt and embarrassment to that little boy on the play ground.  And in bed at night as I fall asleep, when my thoughts are racing through my head prevent me from "resting", I turn to my security blanket for comfort.  Matthew 11:28, "Come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest".  The hardest lesson right now is learning to put myself last and God first.  Learning to die to myself daily.  This is an especially hard task from someone who was an only child and conditioned to need the approval of others.  What people think of me could be considered my form of idolatry, idolizing the opinions of people rather than serving God.  The bible is very clear that we can't serve two masters.  Matthew 6:24, "No one can serve two masters.  Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to one and despise the other".  

My husband and I are embarking on a calling from God that challenges this weakness in me.  I'll share more when I can but for now know that this calling puts ourselves in the direct line of fire to become persecuted for what we believe in.  People will judge us and many people are afraid to do what we have been called to do for fear of a reputation among man.  And while I wish so badly to cuss out those who have already caused us pain, I march on trembling at the knees, with the strength to take down the giant who is oppressing the people of this community, gathering my strength from the One who saves.  

1 Samuel  17:45-47, "David said to the Philistine, “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will hand you over to me, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head. Today I will give the carcasses of the Philistine army to the birds of the air and the beasts of the earth, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give all of you into our hands.” 

Now that's the ultimate cuss-out. 

Please pray.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Hoppy Easter!

This week has been full of pain and suffering. It seems every year during Passion Week I experience a small glimpse of Christ's suffering. My son has a cold. *insert big sad face* We're embarking on a HUGE community awareness campaign (more to come on that soon). And it seems as though there's not enough hours in the day. But my spirits are up! Seriously, I've been walking with my buddy Jesus the whole time and He's providing me everything I need. Including some time to decorate for spring. :D

Here's to hope, redemption, health and strength. Have a very blessed holiday!

posted from Bloggeroid

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Ah ah ah ah Work Out!

So here's the deal. I hate working out unless it's fun. Running? Not fun, unless you're chasing someone or playing soccer. Stair climber? Not fun, unless your 'stairs' are on the side of a hill, in the middle of the woods, in the form of stumps and rocks. Lifting weights? Not fun unless it's in the form of a 3-year-old, or shopping bags. Row machine? Not fun, unless your on a lake with a real boat and real paddles and have a fishing pole.

So what am I doing to uh uh uh uh work out? I put together a list of activities I love to do, cut them up and stuck them in a jar. Every day when I'm ready to sweat, I pull a piece of paper out and get surprised with a fun work out. I don't do routine and I don't do mundane.

Here's my list:
Dance with Isaac.
Play dart gun wars with my hubby.
Work out video to some hot work out beats. (work out beats are listed below)
Take Isaac on a bike ride.
Wrestle hubby. (and lose)
Take Isaac to the park and chase him.
Walk to the thrift store with Isaac.
Work out to a Wii game. (Zumba, Wii Active, or Wii Fit)
London Bridge, Row Row Row Your Boat, Ring Around The Rosy, Rosy, Crab Crawl/Bear Crawl, with Isaac.
100 workout.

Chase Isaac around the church and go up and down the stairs 10 times. (we're a pastor's family and live right next door to the church)
Play kick the ball (soccer) with Isaac.

I'll add more as I think of them.

What do you do to keep active?

Here's my work out play list right now:
"Sexy and I Know it" LMFAO (I play "Elmo and I know" it because Isaac likes that version better)
"Eye of the Tiger" Surviver
"Get Low" Lil' Jon & The East Side Boyz
"Everybody Dance Now" C&C Music Factory
"New Sensation" INXS
"Somebody Told Me" The Killers
"Moves Like Jagger" Maroon 5
"Remember the Name" Fort Minor
"Enter Sandman" Metalica
"Lose Yourself" Eminen

posted from Bloggeroid

Friday, March 16, 2012


I can't believe you're 3!

It was just yesterday I was holding you in my arms as an infant. Man, it's really true how much faster life goes when you're having fun! I couldn't imagine my life without you. You bring me so much joy, laughter...a lot of laughter, and growth. I've become a better person every day because of you.

Here's a few of your favorite things:

Cars and trucks and trains and anything with wheels.
You love your bicycle.
Stuffies, especially Ham and Bacon (your pigs) and your monster pillow
Super Why, Dinosaur Train, Sid the Science Kid, Curious George, and Thomas.
Music, especially playing the drums or the piano, and the air guitar while exclaiming, "rock staaar!"
Books! You love to read them back to me when I'm finished.
God. You have a unique love for God for a kid your age. You already show the gift of evangelism.
People. You love people of all ages, from babies to the elderly.
Peanut butter and jelly samwiches
Art. I think you're left handed.
Praying. Anytime. Anywhere. You're the only kid who prays with the worship team before we go on Sunday mornings. And if you don't get a chance to say a prayer, we have to pray again.
Good smelling things. You always notice when I have perfume on.
Complimenting and encouraging others. You always say, "good job". Every morning when I get dressed and ready for the day you tell me I'm beautiful.
Being polite.
Making up your own words.
Taking pictures even if you don't have a camera.
Family, especially your Grandparents.
Going somewhere, anywhere. You just love to go.

The list goes on.

You are rediculously incredible my crazy son. I love you very very much. Happy birthday.

posted from Bloggeroid