Friday, November 28, 2014

The painful crossroads, the path untaken.

A few years ago I had a nephew that committed suicide. He had attempted it a few times before he succeeded. He had a lot of problems that were overlooked, marked up as normal teenage issues. No one could understand what had happened. I couldn't understand it either.  I remember the first time I heard about someone ending their own life, I was a young teenager. My dentist's wife had cancer and took her own life. I remember thinking that it just didn't make sense, because it just seemed so wrong. The occasions I have heard about it since then have affected me the same way, it doesn't make sense, nothing could be that bad, nothing is hopeless, or serious enough to end your life over. I had known periods of depression in my life, but nothing that made killing myself seem like an option. 

This has been a huge year for me. My life has turned 180 degrees in a short period of time. At times changes were coming so fast that the 180 seemed more like an out of control tail spin. One minute I was on top of the world, the next I was deep in the valley of despair. Happy, sad, excited, depressed, laughing, crying. Lives ended, new lives began, I started a solo journey, I made dreams come true, I found self worth, I found joy, I found heartache. If there was an emotion out there, I have probably experienced it this past year. Fear, pride, excitement, nervousness. I have had to walk out of church services more times that you can imagine because of crying. I have shed a million tears on the altar. I have had so many people pray with me, as I poured out my heart to the Lord. I know without a doubt that I am saved. I have no fear of where I am going when I die. I just am not in a rush to die. But I struggle. There are times that I have heard about someone committing suicide and gotten angry. I have lashed out in anger and said that I don't believe anything could ever be bad enough to make this the answer.... And I have never struggled with suicidal thoughts the way I have in the past couple of months. 

I am not a suicidal person at all. Not at all. I saw the agony that my family went through after my nephew's death. I would never do that to my family. I would never leave my kids to find my body, to deal with the "what if's". I know God has a plan for my life, and that would never be part of His plan. But the thoughts still remain. At first I thought it was the medication I was on for anxiety, so I changed medication. But the thoughts have recently came back. I struggle with inner fears, with loneliness, with loss of friendships. I have health situations that are wearing me down. I hurt. I have struggled with periods of insomnia so severe that I was literally functioning on a couple of hours of sleep a night, if that much. For weeks. And that is when those little thoughts trickle in to my head.  "take some pills, you will feel better, take lots of them, and the pain will stop."  "life is never going to get any better, you will always be alone, no one loves you."  "No one would miss you if you were gone. Your kids would be better off than having to deal with a mother like you." 

I have disturbing dreams. I dream about death. I know this makes me sound crazy and I am not. I think God is giving me insight to the hopelessness that people can feel, that drives them to this. Because suicide comes from being hopeless. Hopeless. The opposite of hopeful. If you are hopeful, you know that life will get better. That there is a purpose, and that the mountain is just around the bend. But if you are hopeless, then you are without hope. Nothing will get better, it will always be worse. I have been hopeful and I have been hopeless. I am not hopeless, but I have felt that feeling. 

I know that depression has two causes, one is a chemical imbalance in the brain, and one is situational. I know that both types of depression can lead to suicide. You cannot pray your way out of depression, you cannot talk your way out of depression, you have to get help, you have to have God in your life and you have to have supportive friends. I just do not know how you can survive it without these things.  

There are times I have felt as wrung out as an old holey dishrag. When moving takes more energy than I have. But I have a full load to carry and not moving is not an option for me. So each day I climb out of bed, and put one foot in front of the other to get through the day. I sing praise songs, I hum if I can't sing. I smile when I don't feel like it. I work in the public so I have no choice but to talk to people, which keeps me from isolating completely, which is what I want to do most. I can spend hours looking at the wall. I have planned out my funeral in my mind, I have visualized it, as if I was actually sitting there watching it. I see my friends walking past me, I hear the nice things they say about me, things they have said to me in real life, but I never let them sink in to my thick head. My friends tell me I am amazing, awesome, smart, funny, an amazing cook, a great writer, a wonderful friend, a good mom. I lay in the casket of my mind, and hear them say these things. So why can I not apply these truths to my life now, to give me hope and to raise my spirits? Why do I feel like Job, sitting in ashes, scraping my sores and wondering what I did to deserve what I am going through? I have value. My kids love me, they think I am the best mom ever, even when I am struggling. My family loves me, even though we have differences, and I am not their blood family. The parts of my birth family that I care about, love me as well. My church family loves me,whether or not I come to church with a pan of something yummy that I have baked them. 

I would never take my own life. I know that for certain. God has a set time for me to leave this world and join Him in heaven. Its not up to me to make that happen any sooner. He has work for me to do here. I have places to travel to, dreams to fulfill, grandbabies to watch grow up, and new bacon recipes to try. But I don't feel anger at people who take the sad hopeless journey to forever. I won't call it the easy way out, because I don't think it is a decision that comes easy. I think many times it is a spur of the moment decision, that with further thought maybe would be decided another way. I think many times it happens in the heat of the moment, when the hopelessness gets to be more than they can bear. When the demons whispering in their ear start to make sense. I have a great empathy for those who struggle with these tendencies. I am not sure if my depression is chemical or situational. I know that my body is in an emotional overload. But the good greatly outnumbers the bad. I have friends, and family that love me. I have a support team that is amazingly wonderful. I have God in my corner, and I know He has faith in me to get past this "Job" time in my life. The bible says that God will never let us be tempted more than we can bear, and He will always provide a way out of it,  so we can stand up under it. I just have to keep looking for that way out. Keep looking up. Keep the faith. Suicide is a very real, very scary thing. My heart aches for those left behind, but it also aches for those who have taken that road. Because "there but for the grace of God, go I." Life can be bad, but it can always get better. Suicide takes away the possibility of it getting better. My cup may be half empty, but sooner or later, someone will be there to fill it back up. And there are days that it absolutely overflows. I know that suicide is a real and serious issue, but I have faith in God to get me past those thoughts. It may be something I struggle with until I learn the lesson that God is trying to show me. But I know it is a path I would never go down. Tomorrow can always be better than the problems of today.
     And besides, I have a freezer full of bacon and I don't want anyone eating that but me......

Monday, November 24, 2014

How are you.........really???? (To lie or not to lie)

I go to church. Every Sunday. And I stand face to face with my friends, and I lie. Shocking? I don't think I am the only one who does it. I don't even realize most of the time that I have done it. It goes something like this:
Person: Hey Beckie, how are you?
Me: Oh, I'm fine, great, pretty good (insert your favorite adjective here)
Person: thats great! 
Me to myself: they bought it....

I go to church because I have to. I am not made to, but there is something inside me that says I have to be in church. I have to praise God, sing songs, hear prayers being spoken. I need to hear the prayer requests, know that others have problems worse than mine, but also to hear the praises, that God hears and answers those prayers. I need to be around Christians, to feel the love, get the hugs, the teasing, the smiles. I need the sermon, whether it steps on my toes, or uplifts me and shows me I am on the right path. I need that prayer time at the altar, when I can unload my burden and leave it with God. I need to laugh, I need to cry. But I still lie. 

I am in a valley. A deep ravine of emotional and spiritual agony. I am not sure why  I am here. I know that many valleys are here to increase our faith, or because we have a lesson we need to learn. I wish I would learn faster. I am depressed. I have read a lot about different people in the Bible who suffered from depression. They tore their clothes and sat in ashes. Job was depressed. He lost all he had, was afflicted with sores. He questioned God, but never cursed Him. King David struggled a lot with depression, many of the Psalm's he wrote were crying out to God in his sadness. Abraham, Jonah, Jeremiah, King Saul, Elijah, all struggled with times that they were deeply sad, and depressed. People think that Christians should not have depression, but there are several examples of GODLY men who did. So why do we think we are above it? I am not comparing my struggles with Job. I have not lost all that I have. Job was tested by Satan to see if he would stay true to God if he were afflicted and if he lost all that he had. He succeeded in the test. God had great faith in Job that he would stand true to Him regardless. I wonder if He has such faith in me. 

I don't curse God, and rail at Him as to why I spend so much time in the valley. I guess I question Him a lot. It seems unfair that I struggle so much and others seem to have it so together. Maybe they are better at hiding it than I am. I go to church and lie because I don't figure most of them care to hear about my struggles. I put on my church face, and play the happy Christian. Christians are supposed to be happy all the time, cause we have God and no problems. But what most people do not understand is we also have Satan battling us all the time, especially if we are working for God, and not just warming a pew. Satan is like a lion, pacing around looking for someone to devour. He looks for the weak, to try to draw them away from God. I am weak, so I draw the strength from my church family to make me strong. My friends have started to call me on my lies. When I don't make eye contact when I say I am fine, they bend down and look me in the eyes and say, "are you lying to me? Are you really okay?" I hate it when they do that, but love it at the same time. It shows me that they do care about me, but it makes me feel bad for faking it. There are times when I am truly fine, and I mean it when I say it. When I am on the road out of the valley, headed to the mountain top. When laughing comes easy, when I dash around the church from one location to another. But there are times I want to sneak in the side door, make it to my seat without talking to anyone. But still I go to church, because I know that if I don't, then I am even weaker, and become an easy target for Satan. 

So the question is this. Do I go to church and be truthful and tell them that I am NOT fine? Do I look for a word to use to be more vague so as not to tell too much but not to lie? How do I know who really cares and who is just being polite in passing? I went through a spell when I wasn't sleeping. I got maybe 2-4 hours of sleep a night, for weeks. So I started just telling people I was tired. Not fine, or unfine, just tired. But I want to be fine, I want to be happy. I want to experience life on the mountain top. I have grown weary of the valley. Of the lessons to be learned there. But I have learned to recognize the others who are in their own valleys. I have learned to recognize the other liars at church. The ones who hide behind fake smiles and are crying inside. I have learned that sometimes those whose lives seem the most blessed are also the most empty. I don't think I could learn these lessons on the mountain top. God must have a lot of faith in me to spend so much time on me. He works in my life constantly. Even at my most alone, I know He is with me. So maybe when people ask how I am, I should say. "I am not fine, but I am going to be." Because things could always be worse, but with God in my corner, they are never hopeless. 

Saturday, November 22, 2014

Beckie..... You are Grounded.....

"You are so stupid."..... "You can't do anything right.".... "I have never seen a screw up bigger than you.".... I hear these things being said to me all the time. These, and much, much worse. I don't do anything right these days. I pay the bills late, I burn supper, I forget to buy bread, even though I work in a grocery store. Words such as these are verbal abuse. It's hard to believe that I would put up with someone talking to me that way, but I do. Daily. I am a victim of verbal abuse. I lived for many years in a marriage where I was verbally abused. Made to feel less than. But I am out of that now, and on my own. But I am still abused. Every mistake is magnified, and I am belittled, raked over the coals for the most minor transgression. Punished for every small misdeed. How can this be? But I face my abuser every single day..... when I look in the mirror.

When I heard the term "self abuser" I always thought about people that cut themselves, or otherwise caused physical damage to their body. I never thought about using words or thoughts to abuse yourself. But this is even more damaging I think than the other. Because I was verbally abused for so many years, it became a part of my life. Every action had a reaction. If I was running late from work, my mind would race about what would happen when I got home. Not physical abuse, but accusations, questions, made to feel guilty when I had done nothing wrong. Time limitations. Constant calls to see where I was, who I was with. It got to where I would dodge people in the stores because I didn't have time to talk to them, without getting in trouble. If I wanted to do something that wasn't approved of, then I was discouraged, or told no. I couldn't do this, because I hadn't done that.

After I got away from that lifestyle I thought things would be so much better, and in many ways they were. I found I was very capable of doing things I never had done before. I fixed my own truck, I changed the fuses in the breaker box when one blew. I thawed my own frozen water pipes. I bought a lawn mower. Each thing was a victory, and I was so proud of myself for each accomplishment. But I struggled in many ways too. All of a sudden I sank in to a depression. Each day was a struggle. I would go to work, go home, walk in the back door, kick my shoes off and slide in to bed. There would be days I never went in to the kitchen. My kids would have already eaten by the time I got home and I would eat crackers or whatever snack I had in my room. I was an avid reader, and I haven't read a book in 10 months, maybe longer. It's not that I don't have the time, but I just don't.

When I started counseling the first thing she asked me was how I felt about myself. My first thought out was " I am a screw up." The day before I had my internet disconnected for not paying my bill. Not because I didn't have the money, but because I forgot to pay it. Time got away from me and I didn't realize what the date was. I was so angry with myself over this. How could I be so lazy, all it takes is a phone call. I need a keeper. How am I going to live life on my own if I can't manage to pay my bills on time. The counselor said I needed to cut myself some slack. That I had gotten out of the abusive relationship but, because I was so used to being abused..... that I had begun to abuse myself. And looking over the past year, I have done just that. If I messed up, I would chew myself out until I would cry about it. If I made a mistake at work, I never had to worry about what my boss would say because I had already made myself feel so bad, that nothing he could say would make me feel worse. If I discovered I had mispriced a few cans, I would tell myself, "you are the most stupid person in the world, Beckie, how long have you done this job?" and so on, and so on. And then I would start punishing myself.

There are just a few things in life that I love to do. I love to read, I love to garden, I love to write and I love to bake. So every time I would think about reading a book, and I have a tall stack of "to read" books, I would tell myself, "you haven't done the dishes, you don't have time to read." "You don't need to read that, you have other things you need to spend that time doing." I had heard those things for years, but now that it was my choice to do what I wanted, I was still limiting myself, and punishing myself for what I wasn't doing. I have several flower beds, and I love tinkering in them. but mid summer I let them go, let the weeds take over and rarely even went out to smell the flowers. Why? Because my yard wasn't mowed, or my floor wasn't swept. If I don't have time to get the work done, I don't have time to do the pleasurable things. I had quit writing years ago because it was belittled, unimportant. Or my words were taken out of context and used against me. Journals were not private, I couldn't jot down thoughts or emotions and have them be private. So I quit writing and started to internalize everything. I would still bake, but only because that fostered the other insecurity in my mind, that people at church only liked me because I baked stuff for them.

I have recently started isolating myself again. Not really going places or doing things. If something fun comes along I do my best not to go. Sometimes my friends drag me, and I have fun. But I always tell myself I don't deserve to go, because I have so much work that is undone. I am lazy, unmotivated, worthless. One thing my counselor said that really made me think. She asked me what my friends say about me. I told her that they say I am awesome, amazing, funny, smart. She asked me if my friends were good people. Yes. Do they lie? No...... Then I should believe them. If they tell me I am a great person, then I am a great person. Think about the people who put me down. Are they good people? Do they lie? Then why do I believe their words over the words of good people who don't lie? If I was truly that bad of a person I would have no friends. My friends would not be encouraging me to do things. they wouldn't be showing up at my house to drag me places. My phone would not be blowing up with texts seeing how I am. My Facebook page would not be covered with inspirational sayings and pictures of bacon wrapped turkeys and hot dogs. My friends love me, they think I am amazing. So maybe I need to take a long look at that person in the mirror that is always calling me names, and putting me down, and tell her to shut up! STOP! Enough is enough. Abuse is a cycle. And its time I break that cycle. I don't talk to my kids the way I talk to myself. I don't talk to my friends the way I talk to myself. So why must I treat myself as less than the way I treat others? The saying that I am my own worst enemy is very true. I left an abusive relationship, only to become abusive myself. I have to learn to love myself, to see my own awesomeness, to reward my accomplishments and cut myself some slack on my screw ups.  I need to make myself read, even just a chapter a day, until I get past that self imposed grounding from the things I enjoy. I need to choose a warmer day and clean out the flower beds for next spring. I need to relax, and remind myself that God sent His Son to die for me! That He loved me enough to plan a life for me. He loves me no matter how much I screw up, and regardless of whether my dishes are done, or my lawn is mowed. My friends don't care if my truck needs washed, or if I baked some awesome dessert, or walk in empty handed. I am an amazing child of God, and I need to quit treating myself so bad.

My son and I started a new habit. Every time we put ourselves down we have to counter it with something positive about ourselves. If I get caught telling myself I am stupid, I have to then complement myself to make up for it. Combat negative with positive. It helps. I notice that my thoughts about myself are starting to improve. I still struggle with self abuse but I think admitting the problem is the first step in fixing it. I have a ton of friends, so I have to be a good person. God made me, and He doesn't make mistakes. I am starting to like myself,  so I know that I am on the way to loving myself and you don't abuse the ones you love. You treat them well.... and feed them bacon.

Friday, November 21, 2014

A Nut Burger, with a Side of Crazy Fries

There are two types of people. Those who deal with their problems and those who do not. I am, unfortunately, the second type. And what do you do with a problem when you don't want to deal with it? You bury it, deep inside, you put it in a can, put a lid tightly on it, and stack it on the shelf of your mind, hopefully never to think of again. Of course, you do. Nothing can ever be truly forgotten, if your mind is healthy. Its like going to your kitchen cabinet, opening the door and scanning the contents to decide what's for supper. Every so often you reach a point in your life when you have a trigger that makes you remember those events, but you scan on past that can, because you don't want to deal with what is inside of it. Like the great supper decision: "Green beans, corn, hominy, spinach (gag), nope, none of those sound good, so I will have a bacon sandwich instead." All these problems sit on the shelf of your memory, and once in awhile you scan across the shelf: "bad relationship, problems with my mother, that fight with my friend, my adoption (gag), nope, none of those need to be dealt with, so I'm just going to go bake cookies." But what happens when your shelf gets too full of cans? When those cans get old, start to bulge, and sooner or later the lids pop off and the contents start to ooze out? Then your shelf is covered with poison, rotten thoughts and emotions that start to cover the good cans, it drips down on to the shelf, on to the floor, and sooner or later, your whole being is just covered with toxins. And then you get a headache.......

I told a friend of mine several months ago that there were things in my life that I only dealt with, but not dealing with them. It seems like ever since then, slowly but surely I have had something trigger one situation after another until I have been forced to deal with them. I have learned that I have to talk about these things. I have to work through them. No matter if its a tiny mushroom size can, or a gallon of rutabaga size can, it has to be opened, and the contents dumped out and dealt with, so that I can make room on the shelf for better things. For boxes of chocolate, for bacon bits, for macaroni. For happiness, contentment....peace.

Verbal abuse has been the greatest part of my life, greatest as in biggest, not the most wonderful. It seems I have spent my life around people who take pleasure in putting others down. Or maybe they don't even realize they are doing it. Even as a little girl, crying about something, and being told to shut up because no one wanted to hear it. Always having the fact of my adoption pointed out. You aren't a "real Block". Being put down in school, for not dressing as well as the other girls, for being clumsy, for being a slow runner in gym, for talking and getting the whole class in trouble. I spent my whole life searching for love, because the one person who should have loved me never did. So I felt....unlovable. I got in relationships I never should have been in, because I was searching for love. I never felt loved within my family, not because I wasn't loved, but because I never felt like I fit in. Most of my struggles are internal. That old saying is true. I AM my own worst enemy. If I had to think of the one person who has verbally abused me the most, and caused me the most damage, it would have to be..... Beckie.

No one ever told me I was unloved, I told myself that they couldn't love me, because I wasn't theirs. Oh I had someone remind me with great regularity that I wasn't a true Block, that I had different blood in my veins, that I owed my parents for taking me in, that I was different. But I internalized those remarks, repeated them over and over in my head, until it became a distorted form of truth. I looked like no one in my family. There was no common DNA, so I didn't resemble anyone. I had dark hair like my dad, but no other features. I acted like no one in my family. I am quirky, at times down right weird. My family would pile their dinner all together on their plates, and here I am, nothing can touch, panicking if my corn juice drains in to my spaghetti. I am sorting my M&M's by color, because I cannot eat two different colors at the same time. I am a reader in a TV watching family. I chose Tonka trucks over Barbie, fishing over shopping, and would rather dig in the dirt than wear makeup. My mom wanted a girl, but I was never girlie. I wore dresses, but wore shorts under them. I have pictures from prom, with me in a ruffly pink formal. What doesn't show, is I was wearing sweat pants under it. I was a great disappointment as a daughter, because I was more like a third son.

There are so many issues I cannot really go in to on a public blog, because you never know if the ones who read it are reading it for something to talk about, or if they read it because they care, or can relate because they have "been there, done that, outgrew the t-shirt." I have been the topic of gossip at the cafe. A lot over the past year of life changes. Sadly, its the ones who are supposed to love me most that are at the center of the gossip, because I am finally stepping out of the shadow of the abuse and neglect of my life, and am starting to live for myself.

But the cans are still piled up on my shelf. And the lids are getting loose, popping off. There are things that must be dealt with, because dealing with it, is the only way its ever going to be cleaned up, cleared out and gotten rid of. The pantry shelves of my heart and mind are overloaded, and God is telling me its time that junk goes! You can only keep that stuff buried inside you until you reach the breaking point. Then you have three choices, you kill yourself, you have a mental breakdown, or you deal with it. I am at that intersection. I won't take that first road, so all that is left is the other two choices. My friends won't let me take that second road, so I guess all that is left is dealing with it. And that is a painful road to take. Full of potholes, deep ditches, low branches, thorn trees and the view is just awful. Now is when I find out just how strong I really am, and how good my friends really are.

I can go crazy, or I can be healed. I am checking in to long term counseling to try to deal with all of this junk. I know that God will be here with me as I take that journey because His word tells me that He will never leave me or forsake me. God made me strong. To handle all of the things in life that I have had to deal with, and He will keep me strong as I sort back through all of these things and put them to rest for good. I need to nail them on the cross and leave them there. I wish there was a way to pack it up without having to deal with it, but that isn't the way it works. So hang on Beckie..... its gonna be a bumpy ride....... but I know that at the end of the road, is peace, true happiness, and hopefully my friends will be there holding a bacon sandwich, heavy on the bacon.....

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Feeling like Bologna in a Life Sucks Sandwich

Have you ever had one of those days when it hurts to think? When you want nothing more than to just stay in your pajamas and eat ice cream out of the carton, and watch sad movies so you feel justified for crying? Its been one of those days.... Heck, its been one of those months. I battle depression, and right now, it feels like it is kicking my butt.

I guess I have always struggled with the blues, melancholy, down in the dumps or what ever term people use when they don't want to use the Big D word. I remember when my oldest son was small, I hated winter time. Still do. But I would stand at the window and just cry. Not sobbing, just tears running down my face. To me, wintertime is like death. There are no leaves, no grass, no flowers, no color. It is darker longer, and cold. I know deep inside that God created all the seasons and winter time is simply a time for rest for all things. But it still feels dead to me. My son used to color flowers, green trees, big yellow suns with smiley faces. He would cut these out and tape them all over the windows. He figured out that when I would look out the window I would see color, even if it was simply ON the windows. I never told him to do this, and I don't even know where he got the idea. But at 4 years old, he was helping me combat depression. The doctors have a name for this. They call it Seasonal Affective Disorder. Winter blues. Several people I know have this. Winter is  a real struggle for them as well. But I also know lots of people who don't understand it. I have been told to "snap out of it", "pray more", that I obviously am not right with God or I wouldn't be feeling this way. "Christian's aren't supposed to be depressed." I pray a lot. Daily, weekly, every Sunday at the altar, begging God to take these feelings from me.

When my dad died I fell in to a deep depression. I cried all the time. Oh, I went to work every day, never missed. But I cried all the way there, and all the way home. I didn't eat. I lost weight. I ended up on two antidepressants and spend five years in an emotionless state. You couldn't have paid me to cry. I was isolated, in a controlling environment and had zero friends. After awhile, I hit rock bottom and moved to town. I got off the medication.  I got closer to my family, and made friends. Ended up getting back in church, got saved. Life was great! I was working for God. But then the depression hit again. How could that be? Life was supposed to be good. "Too blessed to be depressed". But I am. Blessed. And depressed.

Have you ever taken one of those questionnaires that ask about the life changes you have gone through? My life has taken a total turn around in the past year. I have had my marriage end, I have lost a loved one, I have a family member with a serious illness, I have dealt with cancer scares of siblings, my son graduated, my other son got married and he and his wife had a baby. I have traveled for the first time in 20 years. Twice to Nebraska, once alone by bus. And I spent a crazy weekend alone in Chicago fulfilling a life dream. I have learned to be independent, I have made new friends, and lost new and old friends. I have stood in front of my church and told my testimony. I have had the walls around my heart torn down, and at times feel emotionally naked.

I have learned to put on an act. I can laugh, and tell jokes, and act as though nothing is wrong. Many people look at me and think that nothing is going on at all. But there are the ones who have gotten close enough to me that they can look in my eyes, and see the pain in my heart. The ones who have decided that they love me enough to dive in to the mess that is Beckie, and try to pull me out of the muck of depression. The ones who decide not to walk away, thinking I am too much trouble, and they are in for the long haul. Those people are few and far between. A lot of people tell me, "I am here for you, I won't ever leave you", until I have a major down time. And they get tired of the tears, the pain, the sadness, and cut their losses and walk away. The ones who understand the most are the ones who have battled depression themselves. They understand the demons that I battle. For they have battled their own.

When Robin Williams committed suicide people were in shock. He seemed to have it so together. He had it all. But he battled demons that none of us knew about. He covered it up with jokes, and made us laugh, but deep inside he was tormented. I won't lie and say I have never been suicidal. I have struggled with those thoughts as well. I know that is not a route I would ever take, but I have been at that intersection many times. I had a nephew that took his own life a few years ago. I remember the agony his family went through. I held several family members while they cried. I would never put my own family through that torment. But those thoughts still visit from time to time. And I fight them.

Battling depression is just that, its a BATTLE. You fight every second of the day. I know much of it is Satan. I am doing mighty things for God, and Satan wants to bring me down to keep me from working for God, and at times he gets me down, and I have to struggle to get back up. But I keep fighting, I keep making my way back to my feet. And then the feeling lifts. I can smile freely, I laugh and mean it, I am happy. But then it comes again. And I pray. Asking, begging for deliverance from these feelings. I soul search for things that I might have standing between me and God. I sing praise songs, I read Psalm's and all kinds of scriptures. I start to isolate myself. I don't want to be around people. My friends notice and force me to get out. I work in the public so I am around people, but I can be in a room full of people and feel totally alone. I can isolate myself in a crowd. I rarely answer the phone. I dodge people in the aisles at the store so I don't have to talk to them. Because I don't want to pretend that things are great. But I also don't want them to see that things are not. I am back on medication for depression. Somewhere I swore I never would be. But I don't consider it a permanent situation, just until I get my life in a balance. And even when I have been at my lowest, I know that God has never left my side. There is a reason I am going through this. God has allowed this depression for some greater good further down the line. I will praise Him in this storm. I know I am in the valley now, but the mountain is just around the bend. I have depression, but depression does not have me, because I am a fighter. And "greater is He that is in me, than he that is in the world. " and besides. I have a freezer full of bacon and a ton of new recipes to try. I found a recipe for bacon jam. I am really wondering how that one would taste.....

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Who am I and How did I get here?

The first time I ever got my heart broken I was three years old. I don't remember it, but I have heard the story numerous times, so I feel like I remember it. Does that make sense? My mom had taken my brother and me to the store, and this was back in the early 70's when it was acceptable to leave your kids in the car while you went in to the store, without fearing that they would be kidnapped and murdered. My brother told me then that he came from Mommy's tummy and I did NOT. Mom said I came in the store bawling, loudly crying about what he had said. She simply paid for her groceries, took me home and showed me my baby book. There in the front cover, were some papers they had taped inside. Certificate of Adoption. It was true. I was not their daughter by blood. I think that learning the truth at that young age was probably the best thing to happen, because it just always WAS.

Growing up I always felt different. I never really fit in with my family. Oh, I guess I looked enough like my dad that people didn't always believe that I was adopted. But, I was so different inside. I have quirks, I hate for my food to touch, I color coordinate my closet, I live in organized chaos. I have a strange sense of humor that my family finds weird. I am left handed which made it nearly impossible to teach me to do so many things, like knitting, tying my shoes, shooting guns. I had to adapt and do many things right handed. I was allergic to milk. Life wasn't always easy growing up. We were poor, and really struggled at times to have enough food to eat. There were times we were hungry, and the lunch served at school was the best meal we had all day. I lived on a farm, and ate lots of eggs, and learned to fish, clean the fish and cook them myself, so that summer days when I was home by myself, I could take care of myself as well.

I have always been a writer. When I was a little girl I would write these crazy stories. I was born with an over active imagination, and every sound was more than I could handle. But I always had this idea in the back of my head, that, being adopted meant that I had a family out there. I used to fantasize about it, like I was a kidnapped princess, and somewhere there was a family desperately searching for me, and one day they would show up on my door step and take me to this wonderful fantastic home, and I would live happily ever after. I would think about my poor birth mother, and how she must have been forced to give me up, and that she cried every day wondering where her sweet daughter was. I used to dream of finding her and having this fantastic, happily ever after fairy tale ending.

Looking in the mirror was the hardest. Who am I? Who do I look like? I have dimples, that no one else in my family has. Where did those come from? I have hazel eyes, everyone else has blue eyes, or brown eyes. I have crazy unmanageable hair, everyone else has straight hair. As I grew older, those questions got harder. Where did these huge feet come from? Doctor visits were impossible. They hand you these forms asking for family history, and I have to just leave them blank. Write on there "adopted, no family history available." I would look at my adoption papers, and read them over and over. There was one line in there that used to tear me up inside every time. "Infant Jiner, a Minor and Illegitimate Child." Jiner. That was who I was. Not Beckie Block, but Infant Jiner! But the other part, Illegitimate Child. As I got older, I knew what those words meant. And one boy in grade school told me very openly, with one harsh word, exactly what that word meant. My parents had always told me I was chosen, special. Their gift from God, because they weren't able to have a girl. But by the time I was in my teenage years, I realized that what I was, really, was somebody's mistake. There was no one crying for me. Someone messed up, I was the product of that mess up and they gave me away because they didn't want me. That became the focus of my thoughts. I didn't matter. I was rejected.

When I turned 21 I petitioned the court to get my adoption records. I found my birth mother, and got a lot of answers to my questions. But that is another story, for another day. The feelings of rejection got worse as the years went by. I do not know who my father is. I found out that a lot of my odd quirks come from my mother. The ones that do not, I can only assume come from the man who did his part in creating me. Especially the big feet. I joke that since I have such big feet, and so do my children, and the wild unmanageable hair, that my father must be Sasquatch! I found a photo on the computer of a Sasquatch, and keep it on my phone, and tell the kids that is their grandpa! I find humor in the situation now. But the pain still exists. Why am I here? Why couldn't I have been born in to a family the regular way? What is wrong with me that the one person who should have loved me more than anyone, cast me away like an old sock.

A guy at my church told me one day that the reason I am here, is because God needed me here. Here on the earth and HERE in this family. He said that my birth mother was never supposed to keep me, that she was simply the vessel that God used to get me to earth. Similar to how God used Mary to get Jesus here. (Not claiming to be anything like Jesus, just making an analogy). I originally wasn't even supposed to be in the Block family, there was another family on the list that was supposed to get me. But God worked that situation around as well, so that I came home Beckie Block. Sometimes I wonder as well, what my life would have been like if I had gone to that family. You know, each person is two parts, part Nature, and part Nurture. My nature would be the same, but my nurture would be different because I would have been raised in different circumstances. But then I wouldn't be Beckie. I would have a different name. And maybe not a cool one that is spelled different enough that it drives people crazy! And I would not be here, in this place in time, with the people in my life that are here, with my kids, and my church family. Its not that I am dis-satisfied with my life, its just that I feel like I don't fit in. I am still so different. You look in the mirror, and you know exactly where each trait comes from. Great Uncle Buford's ears, Aunt Bertha's eyes, Grandma's nose, etc. You see the quirks and you know where those come from too. Sometimes I feel like a complete stranger, in my own family. I look around at people, and wonder if perhaps they are relatives. When I found my birth mother, I also discovered that my first husband was a not overly distant cousin. And that is yet another story. Being adopted, for me, has been painful, and a life full of questions. I can't say I regret it, because I had a better life than I probably would have had otherwise. And my life now is very blessed. I am who I am. I am who God created me to be. God used two people to give me life, but He always planned for me to be here. Right here where I am. He knew me before I was born. He gave me the quirks that drive me and others crazy. I will never know who my father is, but I know who my FATHER is. I was adopted in to the Block family, which was good. But I have also been adopted in to the Family of God, which is wonderful!

Sometimes I think that I don't matter. I get hung up on being rejected, instead of realizing that, while I was unwanted in one family, that another family considered me their blessing, their gift from God. I just wanted to be normal, with a normal story, but God created me to be different, and have a different story. And He gave me a talent to write, to use it to help people who may have gone through the same things I have, and to use my words to glorify Him. So I need to embrace my different-ness. I need to love my crazy hair, big feet, can't let my food touch, bacon obsessed self. I am here for a purpose, and I am who I am. And for right now, that is good enough for me.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Discouragement: who holds the power over you?

If I had to choose one word that has the most power to break a person, I would have to say its discouragement. Just think about it. You have a great idea, a dream really, of something that you want to do. You are so excited and you start talking about it to people around you. You have the ones who tell you that you can do anything, that it is a great idea and that you will do great at it. But then in creeps the Negative Nellie's. Its foolish, its been done before, no one cares about that, you are doomed to fail. All of a sudden, doubt creeps in. You start to question yourself, second guessing if it is a good idea or a bad one, and then after awhile, you just give up. I wonder how many great inventions, or potential cures, or masterpieces of art, were given up on, because someone got discouraged by those around them.

When I was in high school, I loved reading and writing. I loved words, spelling, learning a new word and how to use it was exciting. (yes I was kinda nerdy). My favorite word is acquiesce. I love the way it spells the way it sounds (Ah-kwee-ess). It means to accept something reluctantly but without protest. I was never able to apply that word to my life. I could accept things, but never without a protest. I was active in speech contests, and school plays. My senior year, my English teacher came to me and said that she was told that I was very good in past plays, that I was very bright and she was giving me the largest role in the school play, and letting me help choose the rest of the cast. Wow, what an honor! And it was exciting. But when I was in 8th grade, I had a math teacher. I always struggled with Math, and still do. I do well with the basics, but throw a letter of the alphabet in there and I am lost. Back when I was in school Algebra was not required. You could take the algebra route, or the general/consumer math route. When we first started studying algebra in 8th grade, I was lost. I spend a good portion of the class every day at the teacher's desk with her attempting to explain to me how to find x. Finally in her frustration, she looked at me and said, "Beckie, you are not smart enough for Algebra, you need to take the general and consumer math classes in high school." For a girl who already had self esteem issues, all I took out of that conversation was that I was dumb. I struggled on through the class, getting help from my friends, and never again went forward to ask her for help. My friends tried to make me make sense of it, but I was always so frustrated, and would just tell them, "I'm too dumb to learn this." To this day, you mention algebra and my brain fogs over. In college I squeaked through Algebra only with massive tutoring. So on one hand I had a teacher tell me I was extremely smart, and one that told me I was not. Which one do you think affected my life the most? I only actually remembered the English teacher when I was trying to think of people who had encouraged me in high school. The math teacher I remember every time I have to do math.

I read somewhere that it take five positive comments to erase one negative comment. Read that again. FIVE positive comments to erase ONE negative comment. So if you make a comment to someone that brings them down, its going to take the next five people behind you, to make up for that. If you have a person with low self esteem, it may take more, or if bad enough, it may never go away, and may scar them for life. Ephesians 4:29 says

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. (NIV)

I think it rolls back to what our moms and grandma's said to us growing up. "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." I am guilty as anyone about not thinking before I speak, about being hateful and gripey, especially before I got saved. But now I try to be encouraging. If someone has a dream, I try to stand behind them, and encourage them to reach for that dream. I recently started something new. I pray every day on my way to work, that I can be a blessing to at least one person. I also try to find five people each day and take an extra effort to say something kind, to complement them, encourage them, or do something extra to help them. Some days it can be a struggle to get the five but other days I may do ten or more! I might comment that I like their shirt, or purse, or jewelry. Or ask about their day and listen as they tell me and then ask questions to draw them out, showing them that I care. Or if it is someone who has told me something the time before I try to remember and ask them about it the next time I see them. It makes them feel good to know they mattered enough for me to remember and ask. Its encouraging! 

As Christians we are called to be the Body of Christ. The BODY. God did not create a body of Butts to sit around and do nothing. We are to be the Eyes, to see those around us who need help.. We are to be the Ears, to listen to those who need someone to talk to. We are to be the hands and arms to reach out, to hug, to lift up those who have fallen, both literally and emotionally. We are to be the feet and legs, to go out in search of those who need us, not just wait for them to cross our path. And we are to be the Mouth, to speak good, to speak kindness, love and encouragement. I challenge everyone that reads this to find one person every day to encourage. Not a friend, because we do that automatically. But a stranger, someone you encounter at school, at your job, on the street. Take a minute out of your day and build someone up. Be a blessing to those around you. It will make them happy, it will make you happy, and it will make God happy.  

Sunday, November 9, 2014

The Struggle with Forgiveness

Have you ever made a mistake? I am not talking about a small mistake, but a HUGE one. One that totally changes your life, and not for the better. The kind of mistake that you just can't seem to get over? The kind that haunts you. No matter how much you ask for forgiveness, its still there. You pray and pray for God to forgive you, and you know He has, but then a few days later, its back again, that feeling of regret. And you ask for forgiveness again. And again. And again. And God is right there, and He is saying to you, " My Child, I have forgiven you and forgotten this, as far as the east is from the west. " So you realize two things. First of all, that Satan is the one that keeps bringing those mistakes up, rubbing your face in them, trying to make you feel unworthy. And second of all, the unforgiveness that you feel, is within yourself. As a reformed grudge holder, I have realized that the hardest person to forgive.... is myself.

I used to hold many grudges. Anyone that has heard my testimony has heard about my list. I kept a written list of people that I hated. I referred to it as "The Top Ten People I Would Kill if I Became a Serial Killer". And it was always full. The names changed once in awhile as I found someone to hate more than someone else, but I never forgave anyone, they were just moved farther down the list. No longer top ten. When God started working in my life the first area He worked on was my unforgiveness. How could I ever ask God to forgive my sins and save me, if I didn't know what forgiveness was? It took several months for most of the list to disappear. Most of the people were no longer in my life anyway, so it was not a hard thing to do. Then as we got to the top of the list, it was harder. One grudge I had held on to for over 30 years! But after awhile, God kept plugging away at me, and I forgave this person. But it wasn't enough for me to say to God, that I forgave that person, He then led me to tell that person that I forgave him. I was afraid that he would laugh at me, or make fun of me, But anyone that has ever argued with God knows that He will not give you peace until you submit, so after awhile I wrote him a message telling him that I forgave him, and why. Well, he messaged me back and oddly enough, not only did he not even know I was angry, he didn't even remember doing what made me mad in the first place! I had wasted 30 years of my life hating someone for something they didn't even remember doing. Its like that old saying "Holding a grudge is like drinking poison and waiting on the other person to die." But he did apologize for the incident that he didn't remember and thanked me for forgiving him. It ended up cleansing us both. We are now good friends, and the years of hatred are something I can laugh about. In kind of a sad and pathetic way.

The top two people took a little longer. Though the wounds were not as old as the other, they were much deeper. One was an abusive relationship, and one was my birth mother who rejected me. God showed me that while the abusive relationship was bad, some good came out of it, and that I could never heal inside as long as I carried on with that anger. It was like having a cut, and tearing the scab off day after day, and making it bleed, instead of letting it heal. Finally I gave in to that one, and forgiveness came. The next time I ran in to the person in town I walked up and spoke to him. We had not spoken in almost 20 years. He was shocked, but it worked, God did not push me to tell this person I forgave him, but just to let bygones be bygones. The proof that I had forgiven him, was when he had a health situation come up and I was able to pray for him. And NOT the prayer of earlier years: "God, just please let something bad happen to him, make him suffer.... and die...." Yes, I actually prayed that way, years ago. It breaks my heart to think that I prayed to God expecting Him to do that. It makes me deeply ashamed. And so very thankful that God is forgiving of our ignorance.

The final act of forgiveness is more recent. God finally got it through my thick head that my birth mother rejected me because it was never His will for her to raise me. I was brought here, through different means than most people, to be put exactly where God needed me to be. I am living the life that God intended me to live. I have never managed to follow the right path, and He has had to map thousands of detours to get me back on the path that He had set up for me to go. But now I realize that I have to be in His will, and listen to His voice, so that I can be on the right path.

But back to the original topic. (yeah, sometimes I like to take the LONG way around the barn. Why is it so hard to forgive yourself for your mistakes? Is it because we expect more of ourselves? Do we hold ourselves to higher standards? Or is it that Satan won't give us enough peace to forgive ourselves? Does he send his little demons to whisper in our ears over and over, reminding us of our mistakes, so that we always have to feel bad. I know others who have made terrible mistakes and they have been able to forgive themselves, and find peace within their lives. Its something I struggle with, but I pray that as I grow stronger in Christ, that I will find the answer, and be able to lay these things to rest once and for all. Because if God has forgiven us, then who are we to not forgive ourselves?

I had a complaint from a friend that this was supposed to be a blog about my faith, my walk with God, and bacon. And she had yet to see a single recipe. So, here is my recipe for cheesy chicken, bacon mac and cheese. Its my new favorite food.

Cheesy chicken Bacon mac and cheese

1# of noodles, cooked and drained. (I like penne, or rotini)
2 cups cooked and diced chicken
1# bacon fried, cooled and broken up
1 stick of butter
1/3 cup of flour
4 cups of milk
3 cups shredded cheese (I like mild cheddar or cheddar jack)
salt and pepper to taste

in a pan melt the stick of butter and then whisk in the flour, its going to be kinda like a gravy, you add the milk one cup at a time until it gets to be a thickened sauce. Then add 2 cups cheese until its melted. Then stir in your noodles, chicken and your bacon. salt and pepper however you like it.  Put in a 9x13 baking dish and sprinkle remaining cheese over top and bake until cheese is melted. If you put it in a crockpot afterwards instead of baking, then pour cheese over top and put on low til cheese is melted. It really makes a lot. I can't say how many servings as I eat a huge plate of it with garlic bread! But its sooooo delicious, and even good warmed up the next day.

and if you happen to be holding a grudge against someone, forgive them. Make a pot of this and take them a plate, I'm pretty sure they will be forgiving once they get a bite of this cheesy yumminess.

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

the trouble with walls

There is an old Rick Springfield song called Human Touch, I remember listening to it in the 80's. There was a line in it that said, "You know I've got my walls, Sally calls them prison cells." I have always had walls around my heart. I never wanted to let people in, because then I could get hurt. I kept people at arms length, because if you let them too close, then they could see the things you tried to hide. Then they would have ammunition to hurt you, or to control your life, It gave people power over you. So I had really, REALLY big walls. Great wall of China walls.
 
But as time went on, I realized that walls were lonely. I didn't want to get hurt, so I didn't really have a lot of friends, because friends could hurt you. I had fair weather friends. The kind that were there in the good times but left when things got hard. I couldn't make true friends, because I had to keep them at arms reach. A friend told me last year, that walls were bad. That they kept you from getting hurt, but they also kept you from experiencing the real joys in life. That even though there was no guarantee that you would not get hurt in life, the good would definitely outweigh the bad. This friend kept chipping away at the walls, until there got to be a hole. Then the people in my life noticed the hole, and started to pull the bricks away more and more, until they were able to get inside the wall. 

And yes, I got hurt, there were times that the pain of betrayal was so bad, that I wanted to put the walls back up, to push everyone out of my life and go back to my solitary life. But what I found, was the ones who cared enough to tear down the walls and come inside, loved me too much to leave. Oh there are still the ones who just want to look inside and see if there are any good skeletons that they can gossip about, or use to hurt me. There are the ones that want to be my friends when times are good, or those who just want to remind me they are my friend when they need or want something. But, there are those who keep tearing the walls down. They aren't content to just be inside the walls with me, they want the walls gone, so that I can experience the fullness of life. And its painful. There are times I feel emotionally naked, and because I had spent so many years hidden inside those walls, I am not equipped for life on the outside. I trust the wrong people, I say things I shouldn't because I was so used to keeping things bottled up inside that now that I am opening up and talking about things, I don't know how to shut up! 

Emotionally, its like a prisoner being let out after so many years, I feel raw at times. I talk about things I have kept bottled up for far too long, out of fear, or shame, or regret. And I realize that I am not alone in this. That there are others out there that have struggled with the same things I have. They have been caught up behind their own walls, battled their own demons and lived that same solitary, lonely life that I have for so many years. Walls can make you feel safe, but its a half life, because life is about taking chances. If you never overcome your fear of falling, how are you ever going to soar like the eagles? If you never let anyone love you, how are you going to know what love feels like? Yes, there is the agony of heartbreak as well, but even when your heart is broken, there is that feeling of joy and love that came first, and that will come again. 

I experienced the pain of a lost friendship recently and I told another friend that maybe I needed to get my walls back in place, because the pain of this loss was almost unbearable. She simply looked at me and said, "No, your real friends won't let you put those walls back up. God won't let you put those walls back up. " And I realized that, while walls are comfortable, they keep you from living your life to the fullest, from being able to reach out to others and help them tear down their walls. Because walls were never meant to be a form of protection, they truly are prison cells. I would rather risk being hurt and be free, than to go back to that lonely solitary life. 

And on a random note, I was talking to some of my friends the other day, and I told them I had figured out the saddest story in the Bible. They looked at me and asked which one it was. I told them, that the saddest story in the Bible was the one where Jesus cast the demons out of the man at the tombs in Matthew 8. They asked how that was a sad story.  (yep, I bet you can see where this is going...) I said well, Jesus cast the demons in to a herd of swine that ran over the cliff in to the water.... and what a waste of all that bacon..... :)


Sunday, November 2, 2014

Battling Demons

I think with Halloween so soon behind us, most people will think this would be a fitting topic. But its not the Halloweenie kind of demons I am talking about. Its those little voices that whisper in our ear and tell us we are unworthy. I struggle with them CONSTANTLY!! The conversations go something like this:
Me: Well, its time to get around and go to church.
The voices in my ear: Why? No one likes you there anyway.... You don't fit in....You don't dress as nice as the others do... All the other women are there with their husbands, you look ridiculous walking in by yourself, and if you sit with someone else, you look like a third wheel... Isn't this bed soooooo comfortable?....Hey, remember that book you wanted to read? You could spend this two hours reading it..... You are so ugly, they make fun of you when you aren't looking.... You know they don't even care about you, they only look happy to see you because you bring food....You don't belong there....
And this happens EVERY TIME. So lets look at these voices. The very first day I walked in to my church a little over five years ago, it was full of people I went to school with. They were very excited and happy to see me there, and over the five years, those friendships have been renewed and grown closer. Why would they NOT be happy to see me. I may not have as much as, or as fancy of clothing as many others do, but most of this is my own choice, because I hate to shop, and I am cheap. If I had fifty dollars to spend on a shopping trip, I would buy a $15 hoodie, have a good lunch and save the rest of my money to buy bacon or baking supplies. FACT. Yes I am there without a husband, but last time I looked, a spouse was not a requirement. It does at times make me feel like a third wheel, but that is my own situation, and nothing to do with God or going to church. I don't begrudge the fact that I am spiritually single, and I would rather be this, than be marriedly lost. (in Beckenese, that is proper grammar). Satan sends those demons to discourage me. To hold me back and keep me from doing God's work and His will. Lately, God has been calling me to do more and more. This past year as I have gotten out from under a bad marriage and started living for God, I took some advice a friend gave me. She told me to make God my husband. To take that loneliness, and give it to God. When I have a bad day at work, and want to come home and tell my husband all about it, I talk to God. When something amazing happens I want to share, I talk to God. When I am lonely, and scared, or sick. I imagine God wrapping His arms around me, holding me tight, and saying, "Beckie, I love you and its going to be okay," God's love is unconditional, He doesn't care if dinner is late, or I forgot to pick up milk. He doesn't yell at me if I pay the electric bill late, or bully me, or tell me I am stupid or worthless. He tells me I am worthy. I am chosen. I am loved, and cherished. Making God my husband was the best thing I could have ever done, and if, at some time in the future I decide to start dating and get married again, someone has some really big shoes to fill.....
But back to the demons. (yeah, gonna need a roadmap to keep up with my train of thought, I am very random at times) The Bible says: For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Ephesians 6:12 NKJ
I never really thought about this before, or understood it, but we battle Satan every day. God is love, and positivity, so if you have negative thoughts these come from Satan, and his little demons. Demons named Sorrow, Hate, Despair, Depression, Sickness, Fear, Pain, Shame, Loneliness, Discord, Bitterness. and so on and so on. Think of any negative emotion that you feel, and it is probably a demon that whispers in your ear to feed this emotion. It is a bad visual, but I see it as the old classic cartoon vision, you sit there, and on your left shoulder is the little devil, telling you lies. But you have to make sure that on your right shoulder, you keep the angel, the word of God, to battle those lies. But in my case, (because I have a vivid imagination) its more like a buzzard like creature, with long flowy feathers, and long claws so it can hold on to me tighter to keep me prisoner while it spreads its discouraging message. It flies above me, studying my life, so it can figure out the best way to hurt me, to throw me off the path, to keep me from being what God intends me to be. But as I recognize it more, I know how to fight it. With God's word, with praise songs, and by surrounding myself with Godly people who love me, and want to be with me, no matter how many times those voices in my ear try to tell me otherwise. God is good, and He created us all. If we don't reach His goals for us, its our fault because we listen to those voices and get off the path. So think about it, whose voice is whispering in your ear today? Is it one of those demons? Or is it God, telling you He loves you, that you are worthy enough that Jesus died for you, and that you have a purpose, you just need to get busy living it!
And now, I have to go cook. I have a brand spanking new crockpot I need to break in! :)


Saturday, November 1, 2014

Welcome

Welcome to my blog. I have so many things I would like to say, that I don't even know where to begin. My goal with this blog is to share the many things that God has done in my life, to share thoughts, insights, stories, and recipes most of which contain bacon, because really, there is nothing more amazing in the food chain than yummy bacon! It truly is the duct tape of food! :)

Have you ever noticed that, when you struggle with things, that you have a way of isolating yourself? You don't want to be around other people, or go out and have fun, you just decide you are tired and want to go home and go to bed. I wonder why that is? I struggle a lot with loneliness which leads to being depressed. But rather than go out and find something to do or someone to do it with, I go home, put my pajama's on, climb in my bed with my laptop and sit here all alone, lonely and sad! But my friends (and I have great ones) have started forcing me to get out and go places. And they literally have to force me! I will think of every excuse in the book, sometimes multiple ones to try to not go. Tonight was our fall harvest party at church. My friend wanted me to go and I wanted to go home and go to bed and be sad. So I told her, in one text message: I have a headache, I don't want to go alone, I might get lost, (I am famous for being lost somewhere), and I didn't cook a dessert for the dinner. Well, she shot down every excuse and even came to pick me up! Within five minutes of being there I was having a great time and was glad I had gone. The internal excuses I told myself was that it was going to be too cold, no one really cared if I was there or not, no one would miss me, my head hurt and I was bad company. Other than the cold (which was true) and the fact my head hurt, the rest was all lies! Satan has a way of discouraging me, and my feelings of not fitting in and not being wanted are the easiest way he has of doing this. When I got there, several friends came up and hugged me and told me they were so happy to see me. I had two very nice conversations that I am thankful to have had. One was about how a friend and I struggle with feelings of depression and not being wanted. The other was with a woman who was talking about how, the more we do for God, the more Satan tries to discourage us to keep us from wanting to do more. I was able to share my thoughts on God, how He is working in my life, and be encouragement to people, which I could not have done while I was sitting in my bedroom alone and sad.

Life is for living. Its too short to spend it sitting alone wondering what everyone else is doing. I have a lot of people who care about me and I need to cherish the time I have to spend with them. I spent many years not really having friends and wishing I did. Now my life is full of people and I spend all my time trying to figure out how not to spend time with them. I know its Satan, and too many years of feeling inadequate. So happy for the friends who reach out to me, and always glad to be able to reach out to someone else that I see is struggling with the same feelings. Life is a journey, and I need to start enjoying the trip. :) and now, I need to go set bacon out of the freezer for our church dinner tomorrow. Not sure what I am going to fix, but whatever it is, there will be bacon in it. Never made scalloped potatoes with bacon in them, but I bet they would be amazing.....