So many blessings . . . .

As many people do, on Thanksgiving, I often take time to reflect on all the things I'm thankful for.  The very first thing I'm thankful for, that summer night so many years ago when I was given a second chance on life.  On that particular night, was I thankful?  The answer is not only no, but a big 'ol heck no!  As I said before, this was the night I turned away from God.

That may seem confusing to most.  Why on earth would I not be thankful and praising our Lord for being taken from the environment I was in?  The answer is actually very easy.  When you're raised in dysfunction, it's what you know . . .it is your "normal".  And while I knew it wasn't right, and I was scared, alone and unhappy, it is what I knew.  Being taken away from your "normal" and thrust in a crisis shelter surrounded by strangers, being visited frequently by law enforcement and social services was traumatic.  Crazy really . . . I was living in trauma, and being taken away from it was traumatic for me.

I was angry with God for taking me from my home, for punishing me instead of "Prince Charming".  You see, he didn't serve time for what he did.  Why?  Because in my fear, I denied everything.  I was afraid of him, afraid of everything . . .I just wanted to go home.

Ironically, what had happened that night, was exactly what I had prayed for.  I had prayed to God to help me.  And, He did.  It took me many, many years to figure that out.  Too many years actually.

I was asked once, not so long ago, how I knew about God, and how I knew to pray.  At the time I was asked, I had to sit back and think about that.  I had no idea.  I, obviously, wasn't raised in a christian environment.  The only time I heard about God or Jesus was in vain, and certainly not in reference to scripture.

Because of the way things were, I wasn't allowed to go out much.  "Prince Charming" couldn't risk his secret being discovered.  I was allowed to go to school and to the public library.  This is where my love of reading came from.  I was able to dive into other worlds, submerge myself into fantasy and escaping my own reality.  There is one series in particular that I read over and over ~ The Chronicals of Narnia.  I had no idea how spiritual these stories actually were, I just knew that I wanted to be like those kids . . .I wanted someone who loved me and believed in me like Aslan did them.  A couple of years ago, knowing how important these books were to me, my wonderful husband purchased this series for me for Christmas.  No gift has ever touched me the way that did.

On one of my many trips back and forth from the library, I often walked by two churches that were near my house.  One was a Lutheran church, and I knew many of my classmates went there.  So, I avoided that one.  There was also a Baptist church right behind my house.  I was curious.  I asked the "Host" if I could go to that church, to see what it was all about.  She, of course, had to get permission from "Prince Charming" first, who, surprisingly, agreed.  I later realized he had ulterior motives, but that's another disgusting story.

So, I started going over there by myself on Sunday's.  I honestly don't remember much, except the singing.  Singing those songs made me feel free and light.  Which is where my love for singing came from.  My favorite song, to this day, is Jesus Loves Me.  I felt safe there.  No one questioned me.  No one teased me.  People were nice, warm and welcoming.  I was invited to attend their Vacation Bible School . . .I vaguely remember going.  What I remember the most, was the singing, and how safe I felt.  To this day, singing praise songs and hymns still touch me in that way.

The day I was asked how I knew to pray, and how I knew God was there, I never did answer the question.  I didn't have an answer.  It's been a couple of years.  And during that time, I've traveled a little further down my path on my journey of faith.  And now, I believe, I have the answer.  I didn't "know", at least, not consciously.  The answer is this:  the Holy Spirit has always been with me.  Guiding me.  Comforting me.  Giving me strength. 

So, on this day, I am so thankful for so many things.  I am thankful for God, and His presence in my life ~ even when I didn't want Him there, and when I didn't think He was there.  I am also thankful that He is so forgiving and understanding.  I am thankful for prayers answered.  I am thankful for my parents, who, without hesitation, took in an angry, scared and damaged young lady.  They endured a lot during my healing process.  I am thankful for my wonderful husband, who understands me and who I am in a way that no one else ever has or ever could ~ and loves me unconditionally despite that.  I am thankful for my three beautiful children.  They are physical proof of God's blessings to me.  I am, of course, thankful for our warm home, my wonderful and loving dogs, my wonderful friends and my church family.  So many amazing people have come and gone in my life, each leaving a foot print.  And each, unknowingly, have helped me along my way.

I hope that everyone feels as blessed as I do on this Thanksgiving day, and everyday.  Many blessings to you all.

Play Nice Kids!!

See that little red headed girl?  What a doll huh?  That was me . . .well, kind of.  You take away the curls, and make the red hair a little deeper ~ and batta bing, you have me at 5 years old.  Why am I using a picture of Little Orphan Annie?  Well, I was contemplating what I should blog about next . . .what part of my journey I should share.  (not to mention, I used to daydream that someday, Daddy Warbucks would come take me away too)  And, the image that kept popping into my head was my Kindergarten picture.  Now, if I could have found that, I'd have gladly shared that instead.  

There's a bit of a time gap in my school pictures.  I have my Kindergarten picture (somewhere in the land of the lost) and then nothing until 7th grade.  Admittedly, it's kind of sad to not be able to look back at each years pictures to see my growth, and how I changed . . .much like I enjoy comparing my childrens pictures each year.  On the same token, I remember what those years of my life were like, and I realize, I really don't want to see my growth or changes.  The contrast between my Kindergarten picture, a healthy, happy cute little girl (yea, I'm biased) and how I looked when I was put in the crisis shelter that summer night is frightening.  I don't remember much, mainly because one's self perspective is often skewed.  What I've been told was this:  at 5'3"(ish) I was vastly under weight weighing in somewhere between 70-75 lbs.  Stringy hair and pale gaunt face.  And of course, freckles galore (ok, that part hasn't changed).  My clothes were always outdated and always too big.

Elementary school was difficult for me.  It's hard to fit in with kids when you're not involved in things outside of school and you're not allowed to go to other peoples home . . .and even more so, when you don't want other people to visit you.  Kids in school were often mean, teasing me about my appearance or anything else they could think of  (which, at an elementary level, is thankfully limited).  Kids on the bus were down right cruel.  Boys had fun smacking me with books, spitting on me, or tripping me when they had the opportunity.  Needless to say, when I had the opportunity to walk to and from school, I took it. 

For many children, school is their safe haven.  It's where they can be safe and be away from a sometimes, very dysfunctional family.  The problem though, is that children are (as they should be) simple creatures.  For the most part, they base their likes and dislikes based on how things look.  How often have you witnessed a child not wanting to eat something because it "looked weird" or not wanted to read a book because it "looked boring"?  Not to mention, of course, the concept of "if my friends don't like it/them, I won't either".  How often, do we, as parents, let critical comments slip out of our mouths about a stranger or even someone we knows appearance?

There was a point in time where I held a lot of bitterness towards those children who teased so harshly.  I realize now, it's not their fault.  Kids, by design, aren't cruel.  What I can do, however, is try to break that cycle and hopefully instill better qualities in my own children.  They don't realize how much their harsh words can impact someone.


When I was in high school, our speech class performed a play for the entire school, and the 5th and 6th graders.  It, in my eyes, was a very powerful play, and I was truly blessed to be part of the project.  The play was called "Carl".  It was about a young man who was teased constantly at school.  No matter what he did, he wasn't good enough.  At the end of the play, it became too much for Carl, and he took his own life.  Sadly, that play hasn't been performed since 1994.  And now, with teen suicide and violence on the rise, the message from that play is needed now more then ever. 


As parents, it's our responsibility to help our kids be open minded, and not 'judge a book by it's cover'.  It's important to remember, what you see, isn't always what you get.  Everyone has a story.  Take the time to get to know someones story. . . .to find out where they are in their faith journey.   If they haven't started yet, then maybe that's your opportunity to plant the seed.

I'M A SURVIVOR!!

Ahh yes . . . . my first blog.  Well folks, I'm not even going to mince words, I'm just going to dive right on in there!!  It's kind of funny actually.  When I first started thinking about starting a blog, I had a TON of ideas!  Now, if only I hadn't been driving at the same time, or I could have written some of this down!