tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45912682854529290422024-03-19T00:30:17.863-07:00Undoubtedly HisMelindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11302643878730448847noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4591268285452929042.post-51583986359088334302020-08-03T18:08:00.001-07:002020-08-03T18:08:41.048-07:00Being Who I Needed When I Was Younger<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBJcu7SsjBn_wecD4ARVmxPfbn7sb6fBMCHfVu7EkorS2SQp7EUutSZqPyQXaPo8ui5kzFQCug6QfWL6yHhwRmf2dBkvfQ3sNt2RojtleiQdKwH607ISztmPCJ75PI3bzK0pv6bFNZmo/s1220/78297DDD-04D0-4D0A-AA60-AB16DA5DF249_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1220" data-original-width="818" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBJcu7SsjBn_wecD4ARVmxPfbn7sb6fBMCHfVu7EkorS2SQp7EUutSZqPyQXaPo8ui5kzFQCug6QfWL6yHhwRmf2dBkvfQ3sNt2RojtleiQdKwH607ISztmPCJ75PI3bzK0pv6bFNZmo/s640/78297DDD-04D0-4D0A-AA60-AB16DA5DF249_1_201_a.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="separator"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>If you've been following me on facebook, I'm sure you are aware that I now have three girls in my care. Three precious girls who at such a young age have already experienced much trauma which honestly makes the whole "raising" them quite difficult. I'm twenty four with no children of my own, never really been in a relationship and still healing from my own trauma. So to say that this has been a H U G E roller coaster is quite the understatement. But, with each passing day we have made it through. Sometimes barely and other times with flying colors.</div><div><br /><div><span> The first few weeks were awful, and again quite the under statement. If I'm being honest, I wasn't in the correct state to even take on children. I was barely getting myself out of the bed. I was in such a large pit that adding three children was NEVER apart of my plan. (L O L, "my plan" little did I know). Once I got the girls, things actually went downhill. One of the girls had a really hard time adjusting and settling in. There were door </span>slamming, hateful words, crying, screaming... it was rough. Many times I thought that they would need to remove the child. It was causing so much chaos in the home and even with the other two girls. Many times I thought that there was no way that I was capable of raising the girls and sometimes I still have familiar thoughts. It's no joke. A lot of what the girls are going through and dealing with are the same things I, myself am currently dealing with. How the heck was I supposed to walk through this with the girls when I couldn't even do it myself; I hadn't even learned how to do it, how was I supposed to teach them. </div><div><br /></div><div><span> These girls are SO much like me, it's not even funny. Maybe it's the same trauma, but they react and act just like I did and sometimes even still do. With that being said, it does make me quite a few steps in front of them though. I see how they act and I know exactly why they are acting that way. I know what's going on inside their minds for the most part. So, it does make "handling" them a bit easier if that's even possible because let me </span>tell you, this is NOT easy. Dealing with children or anyone for that matter that has dealt with some type of trauma beginning at a very young age, isn't for the weak. Trauma changes you. It changes the way you think. It changes the way you view things. It changes the way you trust if you even do after such things. I've been changed by my trauma, so when the girls act a certain way, I understand them and I understand why. However, the downside of that is when I'm lecturing the girls on specific things I've yet to even overcome. Now that's tough. How am I supposed to teach them when I can't even do it myself? It's one of those "kick you while you're down" moments. </div><div><br /></div><div><span> In having the girls, it's taught me a lot. It's taught me how absolutely annoying I am. The girls rely on me for just about everything. They rely on me for love, for </span>acceptance, for hugs, for reassurance, literally everything. And sometimes I want to shake them and say "Can I just have 5 seconds without anyone touching me or wanting a hug!" If you know me deep enough, I'm sure you're probably laughing. They are literally me split into 3 tiny bodies. It's comical at times but sometimes it's a rip my heart out of my chest moment. I now see what "my people" deal with from me. It makes me sad and angry all at the same time. Am I really this needy? Do I really need this much reassurance? Do I really need this many hugs? Do I really have to sit by them and never leave their side? It's been quite the eye opener. But it's teaching me at the same time. I have a really huge problem placing unrealistic expectations upon "my people." I look to them for love, acceptance, reassurance, healing.... just like the girls look to me. And while I can love the girls and help them, I can't do it like the Lord can. My love for them will never be enough to heal their broken pieces. My people can love me with everything in them, but it still won't be enough. It'll never "fix" me. It'll never heal me. It won't ever satisfy me. Only the Lord is capable of doing such things. And before having the girls, that was hard for me to accept. </div><div><br /></div><div><span> It's been hard, because it almost feels like I am reliving my own trauma. The youngest is three, almost four and when I was her exact age, I was also taken from my parents. Seeing the way she is trying to understand what's going on and understand how to cope with not being with her parents, has been tough for me to witness. Although, I don't remember much of that age, I imagine I struggled just as she has been. I imagine I whined for my parents and wondered when they were coming to get me. It rips my heart out. It makes me want to go to my three year old self and hug her tight. Makes me want to tell her it's going to be okay. I do it with the youngest. When she whines for her parents and wants to "go home", I try to explain the best I can. I picture myself when I was three and I do what I needed. Sometimes I just don't even have words for her, I just pull her in close and give her lots of lovings. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span> The older girls are eleven and </span>twelve, but this perspective is a bit more trying and difficult. I remember their age. Since I've had them, I've had to walk with them through quite a bit. Things I vividly remember walking through myself at their age. The places they've had to go, the people they've had to speak to, the nightmares they've had to deal with. The feelings and emotions they're had to deal with. I was them. I am them. The exact things I've tried to forget are things I've been having to walk hand in hand with the girls. It's opened up doors I've had shut for years. It's helped me heal in some areas. During that age there wasn't anyone to hold me when I was crying and didn't understand things going on. There wasn't anyone who said "It's going to be okay." I was alone in my trauma for years. However, I have the ability to be to these girls what I needed at their age. And that in itself is just healing beyond words. I can hold them while they cry. I can have tough conversations with them about what's really going on. I can be present. The trauma itself is hell, pure freaking hell. However, the hell and being alone through it does something to you. It breaks you. It tears you down. It creates things in you that should NEVER even be apart of you. And as long as I can, I won't allow the girls to experience the same thing. </div><div><br /></div><div><span> I won't ever understand why I went through the things I have gone through. I won't understand why people in my life chose to leave me and abandon me. I won't understand why people made decisions that would hurt me and affect me for the rest of my life. I won't get it. And maybe I won't ever know why. But, what I am beginning to think is that maybe the pain and heartache I experienced in my own life will help me be what the girls specifically need and desire. Maybe it will help them grow. Maybe it will help them see you CAN survive and come out of this. Maybe it will show them there is hope beyond right now. Maybe it will show them that there are good people in this life who won't hurt and use them or leave them. Maybe this time with me will show them that God has bigger plans. Maybe it will show them that the enemy doesn't get to win. The saying "Be who you needed when you were younger" is in full effect right now. I know what I needed at their ages and I will do my best to be that to them. I will love them with everything in me. I will be with them until the absolute end and not give up when things get hard. It'd be easier to pass them along to someone else because "they are too hard for me to handle" however, what good will that do? It will only show them that not everyone stays, that everyone will leave when it gets tough. I have that mentality and I refuse to allow the girls to feel that as well. I will fight for them. I will stay. I will be present. Because that's what I needed. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><span> I've done a lot of rambling. And if you've made it this far that's great. This is quite a new experience for me and I hope to look back on these posts and remember how faithful God was to me. I want to remember all he has revealed to me throughout this time of having the girls. Thanks for reading</span></span></div></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><span>xoxo</span></span></div>Melindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11302643878730448847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4591268285452929042.post-19142012828740323612019-08-26T14:50:00.002-07:002019-08-26T14:51:29.790-07:00Beauty from Ashes<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwqa9D81udUdZdtjsxHMMEhW7S5iH4SbQZ76ARLeGVSnMzDc7d7J1b9W4xkqoXaH5NTH1QTSTRrlofYt_En5bg5cVv5uWrVXNBsiWbVJWjTnvnwZzam6AJPVSPCll1nHGj21TUsi2yBg/s1600/burn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwqa9D81udUdZdtjsxHMMEhW7S5iH4SbQZ76ARLeGVSnMzDc7d7J1b9W4xkqoXaH5NTH1QTSTRrlofYt_En5bg5cVv5uWrVXNBsiWbVJWjTnvnwZzam6AJPVSPCll1nHGj21TUsi2yBg/s1600/burn.jpg" /></a></div>
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I watched as the
flames began burning my words; burning parts of my soul that were written on
those pages revealed through different colored ink. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each journal represented different years,
different trials and different accomplishments. I knew what every single
journal held and as they begin to burn, I could vividly remember those moments.
I could remember the prayers and the pleas. These weren’t your typical journals
where you jot down what you did that day, but these were <span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><b>sacred </b></span>journal<span style="font-size: 10.0pt;">s</span> that held the deepest secrets.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;">They held truths that
no one ever knew.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;">They held prayers.</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;">They held struggles.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;">They held feelings
and emotions.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;">They held me.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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The very being
of who I was over the past seven years that was etched into those books began
to disappear right before my eyes. Every so often as the pages would cripple
under the heat of the fire, turning into ash, I would catch a glimpse of words
and names written on those pages. It caused me to recap moments I knew were
hidden deep into those pages. Vivid memories began flooding my mind. But as
each memory came up, I allowed myself to remember them instead of quickly
pushing them out. I allowed myself to feel. I would catch myself just standing
there in a daze, not really being in the moment, but caught up in those
memories declaring over my mind and myself, “It is over, It is over.” What once
held me in bondage for twenty-three years began burning right in front of my
face. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Fears began burning, memories began burning.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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What started off
as a physical and visual burn, became an emotional burning that would soon
create a spiritual flame. It wasn’t just those pages that were burning; it was
burning the memories, the pain, and the words/actions that have held me down, interfering
with being the complete and free Melinda I was created to be. I could vividly see
the inside of my core stretching and moving beyond the prison it was kept in.
It was freeing. I had put all but one of my journals into the fire pit. A pink
one still sat on the end of the table. I knew exactly what was in it. I wasn’t sure
that I was ready to let it go. I picked it up, bringing it close to my chest
and gripped the sides of it. The thought of putting it into the fire made me
nauseous. What it would entail was something I didn’t think I could handle.
Actually, I couldn’t do it myself. I gripped the sides of the book as if I was
gripping on to the last bit of hope I had left. I felt the physical pain in my
chest of a death. Because that’s what this was. A death; an ending. All the
dreams and hopes imprinted into this book were now going to be really gone and
it was something I wasn’t ready for. Honestly, it was something I never would
be ready for. Who is ever ready for a death? Whether it is a physical death or
in my case a death of hopes, dreams, visions…a life, no one is ever prepared
for it. Just as a physical death, I couldn’t imagine my life without this a
part of me. I still can’t. Even now as I type this, I have a lump in my throat as
tears roll down my face. It’s an extremely hard reality to face. I gripped the
journal tighter than anything and allowed myself to grieve the loss of what was
in this book. Paige’s hand slipped across my shoulder and pulled me in tight,
as Tania began praying over what was burning and speaking life into the new life
we were declaring would bloom from these ashes.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I couldn’t
breathe through the cries and panic. The fear of letting this go were like
fingers strangling my neck. Memories I held onto flashed across my mind making
the tears and sobs even harder. I couldn’t do it but I knew I had to. Anger
began filling every part of my soul. Angry because of how things turned out.
Angry because I didn’t understand the purpose of it. Angry because of the relationships
I would be losing. I was grieving and I was grieving hard. I didn’t want to let
go. I ached for things to be different. I ached for a little bit more hope. I
ached for change just as I had in this one journal. I ached over my responsibility.
I ached over blaming myself. I ached because I was angry with God for not
changing me, for not changing the situation. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting";">I ACHED WITH EVERYTHING INSIDE OF ME.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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I didn’t want it
to be for nothing and although I knew it wouldn’t just be for nothing (because I
know how powerful our God is and what he can do), my mind kept telling me the
opposite. I kept telling myself “Beauty for ashes, beauty for ashes, beauty for
ashes!” but all I could see were the ashes (literally). After grieving until I couldn’t
grieve no more, I put the journal into the fire pit and I set it on fire. Oddly
enough, this journal took the longest to burn and I think it represented the
depth of the pain and the length of my healing process. I watched every single
page curl up, burn and turn to ash. I swirled the ashes around constantly with
a stick. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting";">My words were gone.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting";">The books were gone.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting";">Everything was gone.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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All that was
left were ashes in a pit. No evidence of the journals. A feeling beyond words.
How do I describe an incomprehensible ache gently clothed in freedom? I never
in a million years imagined that I would burn my journals. I never even
considered it. But, I learned Thursday night that it’s not just about getting
rid of the journals. It’s about truly shutting the door to the past (thank you
Bro Neer) and not opening it back up. It’s about learning to let go and
trusting that even if you can’t see through the muck, there is beauty on the
horizon for you. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>61 </b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Spirit of the Lord God is
upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings
unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim
liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b><sup>2 </sup></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">To proclaim the acceptable year of
the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn;<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b><sup>3 </sup></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to
give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of
praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of
righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b><sup>4 </sup></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">And they shall build the old wastes, they
shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste cities,
the desolations of many generations. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Isaiah
61:1-4 KJV<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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And a favorite,
verse 7…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><sup>7 </sup></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">For your shame ye shall have double; and
for confusion they shall rejoice in their portion: therefore in their land they
shall possess the double: everlasting joy shall be unto them.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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I have to remind
myself daily (sometimes even by the minute) of these truths that will outshine
those darkest ashes. Jesus came to bring me peace, joy and comfort even in the
midst of all the muck. Despite my weaknesses, He is strong. Despite how
unfaithful I am, He is faithful. Burning these journals meant more to me than I
ever thought was possible. How could pages burning grieve you like no other? Once
I realized the reality behind what was burning and applied it, I was wrecked. These
books held every ounce of evidence of what the enemy meant for evil and what he
*thought* he stole from me. Now that they are burned, I even question why I
kept them at all. I am leaving my journals, the aches, the fear…everything, in
the furnace. I am not saying it will be easy nor am I saying I won’t have bad
days, I am saying despite that,<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I will continue on.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I will persevere.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "lucida handwriting"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I will be new.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br />Melindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11302643878730448847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4591268285452929042.post-28186419519172429102019-01-25T10:24:00.002-08:002019-01-25T10:53:12.222-08:00Potholes, U-Turns and 4 Way Stops<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A couple months ago, I got a phone call that would
completely change my life. Not only would it change my life, but it would
wreck me in the most insane yet most beautiful, perfect way ever. It would
cause me to completely surrender every part of me to our mighty Savior and push
me ever more to say "Not my will, but Yours be done." (Luke
22:42 “<span style="color: red;">Father if you are willing, please take this cup
of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.</span>”) Starting
from a very early age, there were things that I knew I wanted. I even wanted
them so desperately that I would reason with God like “If you give me this, I’ll
never eat chicken strips again” (he probably knew I was lying here). I thought
having what I wanted in life would make my life that much better because obviously
at age 8, I definitely knew what life should be like, right!? But I guess you
can say I learned early that life does not always play by the rule book. It
does not always play out how we intend it should. Natural disasters happen that
we have no control over like hurricanes, tornadoes, and flooding. Things such
as miscarriages and stillborn babies happen everywhere that turn lives upside
down. The roads we thought our lives would take are now filled with pot holes, U-turns,
stop signs, and four way stops. What are we supposed to do when our road called
“Life” begins to look like a construction site instead of the freeway?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When I got the call to take my two sisters in you better believe
Fear, the purple man, inside my head was going C R A Z Y trying to take over
the controls and sending out mayday calls (please watch inside out). I have the
HARDEST time with change. Change is one of my biggest weaknesses. When I was
younger, change happened constantly and from being in 16 homes throughout two
years, you can imagine why it is hard for me. Adding two children to the midst
of me, my tiny, tiny house and my somewhat chaotic life, definitely flipped me
sideways. I’m not the messiest person but I’m for sure not the cleanest. It’s
mainly my clean clothes just not being folded that pile up. But add two more
humans and that’s A LOT of clothes everywhere. Another thing was groceries. I
can survive off of the bare minimal but these children cannot do that. My tiny
house was overtaken. My life was flipped. And we had to develop new normalcy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This past summer I attended Senior Camp in Tioga and while
there I had major breakthroughs with worry, fear and anxiety. I declared to God
and myself that I would no longer allow it to rule my life and be the deciding
factor of how my life operated. Worship sessions where I poured my all out to
God, changed me forever. Sermons and teachings that forever altered the way I
think and believe. Before this camp fear, anxiety and worry literally RAN my
life. I could never make decisions or say no to people without having the fear
of “Oh God, what are they going to say about me?” or “What if they get angry
with me?” I had fears from my childhood that pierced into every single aspect of
my life that hindered growth and hindered relationships. I lived my life based
off of my past and never truly felt freedom. Until this camp. I left Tioga as a
different Melinda with different mindsets. Here I am not even a year later
faced with a situation that has tried to break every single commitment I made
the week I was in Tioga. The Lord has brought those special, vulnerable and honest
moments back to remembrance. The moments where I was praying so intensely,
sweat began mixing with the gut wrenching tears that poured down my face. The
moments where I heard the tiny whisper of God saying, “You’re going back
changed never to return to the old you.” Moments where I declared to God I
wouldn’t become overwhelmed with the crippling fear and worry again. The Lord
has allowed those sweet moments to slowly but surely play inside my mind
reminding me of those commitments I made. Reminding me that fear has no control
over me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In the beginning of receiving these two precious girls, anytime
I thought about the future, I’d crumble into fear and anxiety. Anytime I
thought about how I would be able to afford to feed two more mouths, I
crumbled. Anytime I thought about how my life was changing, I crumbled. I could
not think about anything but the now and what is in the current moment. I was
forced to think second by second, minute by minute. There was one scripture I
thought about so very often that got me through the crippling moments. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><sup><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">25 </span></sup></b><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“That is why I tell you not
to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food and drink, or enough
clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? <b><sup>26 </sup></b>Look
at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your
heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they
are?<b><sup>27 </sup></b>Can all your worries add a single moment to your
life?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><sup><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">28 </span></sup></b><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“And why worry about your
clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or
make their clothing, <b><sup>29 </sup></b>yet Solomon in all his
glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. <b><sup>30 </sup></b>And
if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into
the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little
faith?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><sup><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">31 </span></sup></b><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“So don’t worry about these
things, saying, ‘What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?’ <b><sup>32 </sup></b>These
things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers, but your heavenly Father already
knows all your needs.<b><sup>33 </sup></b>Seek the Kingdom of God<sup>[<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+6%3A25-34&version=NLT#fen-NLT-23292a" title="See footnote a"><span style="color: red;">a</span></a>]</sup> above
all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><sup><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">34 </span></sup></b><span style="color: red; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“So don’t worry about
tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough
for today. </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Matthew
6:25-24 NLT<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This scripture got me through those first few days and weeks
and is what I cling so tightly to now. I like how it talks about the birds and how
they still survive. If something as small as a bird can make it through life finding
food, can we not trust that God will take care of us as well? If our Heavenly
Father takes care of the birds, can he not take care of us? If the flowers grow
so perfectly and beautiful, won’t he also care for me? Worrying how I was going
to take care of these children was not going to change the situation at all? It
surely wasn’t going to help either. It would only make me frantic and fearful. The
thoughts “What are we going to eat. What will they wear?” were absolutely
thoughts that I thought about and asked ALL the time. But I know without a
shadow of a doubt that God placed me here for a reason. If He put me here,
surely he will provide the necessities. And how could I doubt that when in RED,
Jesus says our heavenly Father already knows all our needs and if we seek his
kingdom first, he’d give me (us) all we need. (Red means Jesus said it by the
way). I lived and am still living out this scripture. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My life in the past two months has been H E C T I C to say
the absolute least. Not only has my life changed but so have these girls. They
are learning just as much as I am on how to adapt to their new life. I now only
have one, but not much has changed. It’s unique to watch how much she has grown
in the past two months. From schooling to everyday life, she is learning her
new normal. She is my little sidekick I never knew I needed who asks a
billion and one questions. Life is still unsteady and we aren’t sure of what
each day holds, but we are taking it all day by day. Regardless of where she
goes or who goes with, she knows that my house is always her little safe haven.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As I said earlier in the blog, life doesn’t always play by
the rules and you get some potholes in your road. But I have learned throughout
my (almost) 23 years of living that it doesn’t mean you have been abandoned or
forgotten. I’ve also learned, especially in this season, that God will use
those potholes, U-turns and 4 way stops to draw us closer to Him, change us and
to get rid of those things that are not of the Him; those things that do not
honor Him. The Lord has stripped me and is continuously stripping me of those
things making me more and more like Him. It’s not an easy process and it’s very
testy but whatever it takes to rid me of this world and fleshly desires. I have
always prayed for God to use me for His kingdom and I know for sure that is
what he’s doing in this season. I have an awesome opportunity to reach my sweet
girl in ways no one ever could. To teach her about the love of Jesus and
hopefully make an impact and if that is what this season does, then SO BE IT. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Melindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11302643878730448847noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4591268285452929042.post-20740731429988089862018-11-30T14:01:00.001-08:002018-11-30T14:18:59.662-08:00Healing Beyond The Diagnosis <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Oh bless your heart. You are so young” the nurse said as
she was applying the electrodes and lead wires to my chest after hearing that
this would actually be my third time receiving a heart monitor within one year.
After seeing the frustration and stress plastered across my face throughout the
visit, she reassured me that everything would be fine and for me not to stress
as I walked out the room. Unbeknownst to her, I would lose it seconds after walking
across the empty parking lot. Many different things and scenarios ran through
my mind. I was aggravated that once again, I would be going through the same
things I had recently gone through months before. Blood work, heart monitors,
EKG’s, echo-cardiograms. But, having a meltdown was definitely not on my to-do
list nor did it even fit, so I quickly pulled myself together in enough time for
my blotchy red face to clear up before I drove up to get my oil changed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The nurse’s words kept ringing through my ears as I drove, “You’re
so young.” While it’s definitely not the first time I’ve gotten this response,
those words kept piercing through my already injured soul. One week prior to
this appointment, I met with another heart doctor who didn’t give the greatest
news either. When I shared the news with those close with me, they were on me
about eating better, staying more hydrated and watching my caffeine intake. Although
these things won’t “fix” my heart, it can definitely help it. The week leading
up to the second appointment, I went back and forth throwing tiny little pity
parties about how I can’t be like a normal 22 year old and eat the junk I want
to eat. “I’m 22. I should not have to deal with heart problems,” I angrily told
myself and others who would listen. I tried reasoning with myself about how the
heck I would be able to eat healthy when I. EAT. NOTHING. I can’t tell you how
many times this past week I have argued with God about the taste buds he gave
me. Like why couldn’t He have allowed me to like more than one vegetable or
allowed me to like healthy food. As silly as that sounds, I definitely have
some angry emotions about my taste buds right now because apparently they’re
decreasing my health as well. The nurse’s words pierced so deep because those
words weren’t new to me. They were the fuel being added to burning flames. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I left 5 Minute Oil Change already running late, so I picked
up the phone and dialed the friend I was supposed to be meeting up with and let
her know I would just meet her there. We spoke shortly and hung up. As I began
driving, hot tears began to stream down my face. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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tears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Frustrated
Tears. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Fearful
tears. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That meltdown was happening and I couldn’t stop it. My
attempts of pulling it together quickly failed me and deemed impossible. I was
headed to church for an event and knew I needed to get it together before I got
there. I had 15 minutes. I picked the phone up and knew two people who’d be
able to calm me down. The first call was no answer but as I greeted the second
call, she immediately knew something was up. “I don’t want to wear this
freaking heart monitor. I don’t want to do any of this” I said sobbingly to
her. Although wearing the monitor is annoying, it’s not the physical means of
not wanting to wear it. It was what it meant. What it imposed. To me it’s the unknown
and what it would reveal in 30 days when I got it off. It was the feeling of defeat
I felt from having to deal with this once again. It was the scariness of the entire
situation. The building up of these emotions came tumbling down minutes before
I stepped into an event. (How convenient). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I started reading Lysa TerKeurst’s new book “It’s Not
Supposed To Be This Way” a few weeks ago but stopped due to a busy schedule and
I eventually forgot about it. While on Facebook earlier this morning, I came
across a post that mentioned her book. It reminded me that I never finished, so
I opened it up on my Kindle app and began reading. I read a chapter or two
before I came across a few things;<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“God doesn’t expect us to handle this. He wants us to hand
this over to Him. He doesn’t want us to rally more of our own strength. He
wants us to rely solely on His strength.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“News comes at us to tell us what we are dealing with. Truth
comes from God and then helps us process all we are dealing with. News and
truth aren’t always one and the same.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Those were like bright lights shining from a dark tunnel.
Why do I have to try and figure it all out? Why do I try to rely on my own
failing strength? As I’ve said before in other blogs, I struggle with feeling
like I have to figure everything out and be in control. That’s one of the
biggest struggles God and I have. I
want to know what is going to happen. I want to know how things will work out.
But when given this 30 day heart monitor, I am forced to step back and release
control. There is nothing I can do to speed up the time. I must be still and
patiently wait. I must trust that God is in control regardless of how my body
may physically feel and even more so regardless of what the doctor says because my healing happened when Jesus was nailed to the cross. I have healing in Jesus.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Do not be anxious about anything,
but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your
requests to God. And the peace God, which transcends all understanding, will
guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Philippians 4:6-7<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">"For we do not want you to
be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about the trouble we experienced in the
province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to
endure, so that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt we had received
the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves
but on God, who raises the dead." 2 Corinthians 1:8-9</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif;">"He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by his stripes we are healed." Isaiah 53:5</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In these next 30 days, I am convinced that I will learn more about patience and how to truly rely on God. To step back and say "Okay God, this is yours."Just as Lysa wrote in her book, I truly was not meant to handle this myself. I must realize that I am not supposed to figure this out. I must hand this over to a God who is M U C H greater than I. The one who has the ultimate say so. The one who can heal me. The one who can give me peace. The one who can give me comfort. I must seek after Him so that I may </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">receive</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> those blessings such as peace and comfort. When my monitor suspects something going on with my heart, it starts to beep. It lets me know that it's been recorded and transmitted. I have made it a point to say "Thank you for your peace and comfort. Thank you for healing my body" every time I hear it going off. I will stand firm on God's goodness and his healing regardless of the beeping and regardless of having to wear the monitor. My healing isn't based off of what the heart monitor reveals or what the medicine can do. It's based off of Jesus and what He did for me and I am standing on that the next 30 days. </span><br />
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<br />Melindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11302643878730448847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4591268285452929042.post-73475542004950268152018-10-25T07:55:00.000-07:002018-10-25T09:57:07.551-07:00Get To Know Me<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Well, considering that my Facebook page has 108 likes, I thought I'd share a little about me being that I'm starting to get famous and all (HA, totally joking).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I started this blog a few years back with no intentions of anything really. I've loved writing and for as long as I can remember, I've always had a journal as a means of expressing myself. It became a stress reliever throughout childhood and as I got older, it turned into prayer journals. I'm definitely not perfect. I'm actually quite ditsy so these are not going to be professional or grammatically correct blogs. BUT,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They are real. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They're my personal struggles.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My leaps and bounds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My encouragement. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My growth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As you read in my previous blogs, my life hasn't been full of rainbows and butterflies. I'm a child born into addictions, abusive homes, abandonment, neglect, foster care... you name it and I have probably been there. BUT it doesn't end there, and that's what I hope this blog will be used for. To show how beauty can come from ashes. That it's still possible to have JOY despite hard situations. To show that you can make it through with God. All glory goes to Him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Enough of deep stuff, let's talk about some interesting and fun thing about myself! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm funny. Maybe not to others, but let me tell ya... I crack myself up over small and stupid things!! Tell me a joke and if I think it's funny, I will be laughing for days over it. We recently just had a preacher come to our church for revival and I think I laughed way too hard at this joke he said. He was talking about how a man was reading his mail and was all up in his kool-aid (if you know what I mean). Not literally reading his mail, but ya know, He knew some things. Anyway, he said "Who invited this man to my barbecue because he is all up in my grill." Y'all, that's funny stuff. I probably laughed the loudest and still kept laughing as tears rolled down my face. Stuff like that gets me right in the core (HAHA).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anyway, I am 22 *ALMOST* 23 years old. I don't know why it excites me when I turn a different age because I'm just getting older, but it just does. I graduated from Covington High School in 2014. I did cross country for a little while and I did swim team which I absolutely LOVED! I went to state both years that I did it as well. After I graduated, I attended SLU for a few semesters but never stayed with it. I never was interested in a job per say. If I could be or do anything in this world, I would want to be a mother. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I can't really describe my family tree because it has limbs and branches coming out of places I didn't even think was possible. So I'll stick simple and maybe explain the rest in a blog further down the line. I have two older siblings and one younger one. Codie (26 in a few weeks), Lorena (24), Me (22), Kasey (20). Spoiler alert, there are five more which makes 9 of us, but I warned you about those branches. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Kasey, Me, Lorena, Codie (sorry in advance Lorena. This was the only picture of us all together)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I currently work at Northlake Gastroenterology Associates. And I spend most of my time at work or in Loranger where I attend church at Pentecostals of Loranger Community. I actually live in Lee Road but you really won't find me there much. I make a joke with my people about how I rent a place just to store my stuff. And surprisingly, I'm way more introverted than I am extroverted so you'd think I'd be home more. However, if I'm comfortable in situations, I'm WILDY extroverted, haha. It's like a guess and see what's going to happen with me. You never really know what you're gonna get, honestly. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I am an actual child at heart. (any of my close people can attest to that). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I eat nothing. No, really I don't. I am the world's pickiest eater. And just like I tell everyone who 'complains' about that...I didn't choose these taste-buds, they chose me. My appetite is that of a 4 year old. I will chow down on anything Chef Boyardee. I probably hate all vegetables give or take one or two. Good thing is that I will be a cheap date. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My love language is quite a toss up. With certain people, I love their hugs. I think the specialty of their hug never diminishes regardless of the amount given. But that is only with like two people. Seriously. But I enjoy quality time and words of affirmation from other people in my life. And throw physical touch in there somewhere. I'm like this little teddy bear with thorns beneath the cotton stuffing. HAHA. (Corrine, I think you'd appreciate that)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I HATE phone calls. I can probably count on one hand how many people I could actually call, aside from my sisters (not my brother because he hates them as well). I hate the pressure it brings to HAVE to respond. Now working at a job where I talk to people on the phone has definitely brought me out of my comfort zone, but I still have my zone. If I HAVE to call you, just know that it probably took a good 15 minutes to hit the call button. It's just who I am. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Those are just a few things about me and my odd personality. Things that make me, me and unique. Throw some coffee, brownies and a baby in there and you win me over ;)</span>Melindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11302643878730448847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4591268285452929042.post-6800601232453164192018-10-22T10:04:00.000-07:002018-10-22T10:05:42.563-07:00Protect Your Landing <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There are many things that occurred in my life that I never would've chosen to walk through had I been given the opportunity to actually choose. And honestly, it's okay if I never have any of my "Why?" questions answered. Don't get me wrong; I would have loved to have a 'normal' home with two loving parents and a typical family dynamic, but sadly that's a lot to even ask for in today's world. It's more common to find dysfunctional and torn apart families. So, ya kinda have to take the cards you're dealt and figure out what you are going to do with it and that's what I'm doing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I make this odd defense coping mechanism joke about how the only thing my mother gave to me was the color of my eyes. It's sad when other people here me say it because it points out the abandonment and neglect, but making jokes about my pain is kind of this fault I have. (shout out to Corrine, Katie, Torri and Beth who encounter these on a daily). Anyway, the color of my eyes isn't the only thing my 'mother' gave me. Somehow, I inherited her anxiety and her pickiness with food. I got her beat BY FAR with food pickiness by the way but that's just a fun fact. I wasn't around my mom a lot, more so she wasn't around me so it kind of boggles my mind how something so big could attach itself to me without having seen her anxiety in action. We've had very few encounters with one another besides the first three years of my life simply because she chose not to. Now that I'm quite older it is my choice to keep her out although she wouldn't want to be around even if I allowed her to, sadly. With all of that being said, one of my main cards is anxiety. I say my mom gave this to me and while I think that has a huge impact, I also know a lot of things that I've encountered has maximized the anxiety as well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Although I had anxiety attacks, my biggest struggle was always with my thoughts. I think about EVERYTHING. I'm a processor. I hate phone call conversations because I want to be able to process and not be rushed to respond so quickly. Like I hate them so much that I will deny the call even with the phone in my hand, text back a few minutes later and say "Sorry, I missed your call. What's up?" Another fun fact about me. Sorry in advance to those who try to call me. Honestly, it would probably save me a lot of trouble if I didn't process so much, but God's going to have to seriously do some hard handy work for that to change, It's just what I do. Another shout out to my tribe who gets books and books from me because I'd rather text and not call (mainly Sis Michelle.. you're a champ). Anyway, here is how my thinking causes my anxiety. One thought will pop in my head. Not so much random, I guess because I firmly believe that Satan knows our weakest points, so he uses that against us. In my case, it's by thoughts. I imagine my head to be like the sky and my actual brain where I stop the thoughts, the landing and runway. There's constantly thoughts running through my head..the good, the bad, the ugly and everything in between. The problem I had is that I allowed every thought that flew across my mind to land because they all seemed reasonable. That's where the enemy gets ya. I had anxiety and fear that people weren't genuine and didn't mean what they said. I feared that people were going to leave me. I feared that all people were going to hurt me. All reasonable thoughts being that two of the main people who are supposed to love and protect me did quite the opposite. I would allow these thoughts to sit and fester inside of my mind, going back and forth about the possibilities that could take place. It would then affect my judgement of those people. I allowed it to twist my judgement and my thinking about who the person actually was and their true intentions. Then finally, it starts affecting my relationships because now I have made myself believe the absolute worst and placed it upon that person. So through all of this processing I've done, these relationships starts to be affected by this due to my lack of trust. On one hand, I do believe it is okay for me to be cautious with who I allow in my life. I want to be cautious in that way. But I also don't want to believe the absolute worst about someone. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With my current relationships, I often focus on this scripture that has gotten me through a lot of mental battles... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Philippians 4:8. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I like the way the amplified says it..</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Finally, [a]believers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable and worthy of respect, whatever is right and confirmed by God’s word, whatever is pure and wholesome, whatever is lovely and brings peace, whatever is admirable and of good repute; if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think continually on these things [center your mind on them, and implant them in your heart]."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Whatever is confirmed by God's word"... "BRINGS PEACE"... "center your mind on them, and implant them in your heart."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I believe that in order to act upon this scripture we must realize that we have control over our thoughts. *LOUD GASP* It's true; we do. Not every thought has to land even if we have every reason in the book to say "That could be true!" or "That could actually happen!" There's plenty of things we can base our thought process on, but the past is absolutely not one to use. We must base our thoughts upon God's word and what He says. If we are proactive and actually fight back, there wouldn't be so much damage. You can stop the damage from happening and gain back your relationships. We give so much control and power to the enemy. And notice that I am saying "we" because I'm preaching to myself as well. I understand the war and the mental battles. But we must protect our landing and be cautious with what we allow to land in our minds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have this little heart problem and a couple months ago, I had a procedure to try and fix it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They went in to try and burn the part of my heart that was causing the problem. However, with my case the problem was too close to the electrical currents of my heart so it still occurs every now and then. Not as much as it had before, but definitely still occurs. Within the past two months or so, my heart started doing this weird little thing where it feels like it flips, stops beating, and takes my breath away all in like one second. And then it goes back to normal. I notice it way more when I don't take my medicine as consistent as I need to, but sometimes it still breaks through the medicine. It doesn't affect my life, it just gets me by surprise each time. But after it's no big deal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think that anxiety is the same way as well. I know that God has delivered me from a tremendous amount of situations that crippled me with anxiety. I know that anxiety USED to control my life. It doesn't anymore. But it's just like my heart problem. If I stay consistent and take my medicine twice a day like I'm supposed to, those abnormal heart beats become less frequently. It's the same with my mind. If I fill my mind with the word of God (my medicine), listen and obey that, and live my life for Him, the attacks and mental battles become less and less. Even if I stay consistent with doing those things, maybe one will pop in and surprise me but at least I know what to fight the battle with and who is going to win it because it's already been won. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">("I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” John 16:33)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My heart beats can be so abnormal at times that even if I'm just a few hours late on taking my second dose of medicine, I realize it quite quickly. My heart reminds me that it needs that medicine to beat correctly and to stay in rhythm. It's just like my mind. I need the word of God to fill my mind so that I am able to be proactive and carefully sort through my thoughts. If I miss out on daily quiet times, I start to feel it just as if I miss a dose of my medicine. The fear tries to creep back in. If I miss out on prayer with God, I feel it. The anxiety tries to creep back in. Just as my heart needs medicine twice a day to stay on track, I need the word of God daily to get me through each second, each minute, each hour, each day. I need him to survive. I need him to help me protect my landing because without Him, all of the thoughts land and all control goes back over to the enemy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I make this joke with my younger sister all the time about protecting my head space and my bubble. But I know that it's actually serious and quite beneficial. I know that scary movies make my fear of the dark even worse, so I'm not going to watch it. Watching movies like that is like saying "Bring on the fear of being murdered or kidnapped as I'm pumping my gas!" And I for sure don't need any help with having those thoughts.... so that's why I got my Pastor to watch me pump my gas last night. God gave me wisdom folks, not fear ;) (also shout out to the best Pastor ever)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Be careful with what you allow to land. Things can fly in your sky, but don't allow everything to land and unload their baggage. And watch what you pickup at the baggage claim when you allow it to land. </span><br />
<br />Melindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11302643878730448847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4591268285452929042.post-14643348759029289932018-07-18T09:39:00.000-07:002018-07-18T09:46:36.978-07:00Not My Will, But Yours Be Done<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was eleven when the questions of "why's" started rolling in. Ya know, it's those tough questions we ask God when we are suddenly faced with trials beyond our control. The ones we are forced to ask when the pain is too deep to even comprehend. The ones we ask when our life is shattered in a million pieces in front of our faces by the ones we loved most. The ones we ask when our life is completely turned upside down.</div>
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"Why me?' </div>
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"What did I even do to cause this?" </div>
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"Why did this happen?"</div>
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"Why did you let this happen?"</div>
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I am the type of person that has to know all of the details about something. I like to mentally prepare myself for everything. Sitting down with new people for the first time, going places without knowing anybody, that's all very difficult for me to do because I don't know what to expect. And the unknowing literally sends my mind on this roller coaster. So, as you can expect, when my questions of "Why?" hit me like a ton of bricks, I was spiraling. I can vividly remember the first time one of those questions popped in my mind. I was swinging on this really old black swing set across from my house. There were other people around me, but for a few seconds, I remember feeling as if there was no one there and the only sounds I heard came from the screeching metal of the swing set as I swayed back and forth. "Why me? What did I do to cause this?" It was a loaded question and the first time I was actually aware of how traumatic my childhood had been. Eleven years old and the weight of it all suddenly hit me. Before this moment, I felt like I was just living and surviving. But what's odd is that I wasn't even aware that I was surviving. It was just something that I knew I had to do. The trauma had always been there, so it became a normalcy. It was all I knew. I had been in counseling for a few weeks prior and it's where I began learning that what I thought was normal wasn't actually normal but quite the opposite. So the weeks leading up to the first initial question, my mind had been in this shock stage. My normalcy had just been shattered and I was trying to process it all. When I started asking the "Why" questions, I was hoping that I would find an answer that would be satisfying. One that would bring peace to my eleven year old mind. An answer that could help me understand why the life I had was so different then others around me. One that could explain it all for me. </div>
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"In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may be had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith- of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire- may be proved genuine and result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed." </div>
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1 Peter 1:6-7</div>
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My pain brought great confusion and mass chaos in every aspect of my life. And sometimes, it still creeps back in. But when I read this, I am comforted. My trials and tribulations are momentarily compared to the eternity in Heaven. My faith is being refined to be more pure and genuine; to trust and be dependent upon Him and not myself or things of this world. I know that He is working even if I do not feel it or see it. We sing a song in church occasionally that resonates with me so much. It says, </div>
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Even when I don't see it, You're working</div>
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Even when I don't feel it, You're working</div>
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You never stop, You never stop working</div>
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You never stop, You never stop working</div>
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I may have never gotten a clear answer, but I am okay with that. I had this vision in my head of how my life should've been, the family I would be in, the type of parents I would have, the type of job I would have. And I'm going to be quite honest with you and say that none of it played out the way I thought it would have or the way I prayed it would. Not even some of it. My life is completely different than what I would have chosen, but guess what... It. Is. Okay. It doesn't mean that my prayers went unanswered or that they were unheard. And I know that because his word says it in Psalm 66:19 "But God has surely listened and has heard my prayer." And also again in Psalm 34:18 "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in Spirit." I am reassured that my prayers were heard and those years of crying out to God NEVER went unnoticed. You might ask me, "So how do you know that you're prayers were answered if nothing played out the way you wanted?" I may not have people to call 'Mom' or 'Dad' the way the world says you have to, or a family the way the world says you're supposed to have, but I probably have something a little better; something more than that. I have spiritual parents in my life who lead and direct me according to His will. They love me, care about me and want the absolute best for my life. And I have an entire church family full of people who bring me into their families and love me as if I was apart of them. I have friends who love me greatly and care for me the same way a family would. My will for my life would've been way different, but good thing living this life isn't about us right?! The way my life is currently has been hand-designed and created just right, in the way God knew was BEST. Every single part of it was put together like a puzzle that fits in just right. </div>
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In those years of questioning why and wondering if God was hearing me cry out to him, He was working diligently and making sure every piece of my puzzle fit together. He made sure all of the corners lined up and each loopy curve fit together with His design. I catch myself looking at where I'm at and wondering "How did I even get here? How did all of these people get brought into my life?" and that is when I am quickly reminded that even when I don't see it, He's working; even when I don't feel it, He's working. And now, as I'm asking those similar questions, I am still comforted by Him. These questions don't shake my faith, but instead pull me closer to Him. I have recently been thinking about a particular situation due to the anniversary of it coming up this week, and I am very saddened by it. I think it's okay for me to grieve the situation, but not to stay in the grief. When the grief is heavy, the sweet Lord reminds me of his faithfulness in my life despite that situation. Even when things may have not turned out the way I pictured it, they turned out the way God intended for them to be. And I'm confident that His way, is better than my own. BY FAR. </div>
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Melindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11302643878730448847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4591268285452929042.post-13006276959312689542018-03-12T10:24:00.001-07:002018-10-24T06:12:49.789-07:00time to get offfor {almost} twenty two years, I have been on a consistent roller coaster but one that had more downfalls than rising ups. I was well aware of the constant downfalls but for some reason I stayed on it with high hopes of the track changing courses. maybe there would be more ups. but year after year, it never changed. my mother, who was supposed to love me unconditionally and want me, was unable to do anything remotely close to that. I became all to aware of her abandonment and manipulation as early as age three. yet year after year of becoming familiar with her ways and continuously being hurt, my heart still desired her. I would go years without hearing a single word from her and the second she comes to “visit” I turn my life upside down to see her. which is what happened last week. after almost two years of not hearing or seeing my mom, she decides to come to Louisiana for an entire week. I chose to see her after already knowing exactly how seeing her would negatively affect me. I chose to see her even when my closest mentors advised me not to. I chose to see her with hopes of her somehow being a different person that maybe something I did or said would change and she could want me. Without surprise, that did not happen. What I had been protecting myself from the past two years, hit me like a dang freight train last week. She put in no effort to see me, the daughter she had not seen in years. And seeing that destroyed me. I sat around waiting for a text from her that said she wanted to see me. That she wanted to spend time with me. But, I never received it. And she never even knew that nor did she consider that I’d want to see her. When I did see her it was because of effort made by someone else. Not her. I was not surprised by her actions, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. It never does. I don’t understand and I get so frustrated that I can’t understand why she is the way she is. But just as many have told me already, I don’t have to subject myself to her and the hurt she brings along. Since her leaving, I have blocked her phone number and all social media so that I no longer will subject myself to constant pain and abandonment. The last few days have been tough because it aches me to finally accept what has been permanent the last twenty two years. It aches me that my hopes of her being different are diminished. It just painfully aches.<br />
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However, I have been reminded of a few things... some with the help of close friends and some of personal realizations.<br />
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If I never receive the unconditional love from her, I am not lacking love.<br />
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Just because she can’t love and want me, does NOT mean there is something wrong with me.<br />
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I do not have to subject myself to her hurt, her abandoning me, or her manipulation.<br />
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One person not capable of loving me does NOT mean I’m unloveable.<br />
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I have been extremely blessed with mother figures in my life who DO love me, who DO want me around. I cannot just focus on the one who doesn’t. This past week I set myself up to be hurt and completely manipulated. That was my fault because she no longer has the control to hurt me the way she did when I was a child. I am old enough now to protect myself and here on out, I will do that. I’m no longer the little girl who couldn’t defend herself, who couldn’t protect herself. I am learning at quite a slow pace, that the love Jesus has for me, the love of my church family and the love my closest friends have for me is enough to fill my voids. She’s the one missing out, not me.<br />
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Melindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11302643878730448847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4591268285452929042.post-9057660918466512092018-01-17T14:03:00.000-08:002018-01-17T14:03:06.084-08:00Fighting Against The Odds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Me, Kasey, Lorena.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large; text-align: center;">3 Sisters. 3 Different Homes. 3 Different Stories</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Reminiscing on what seemed like happened in a matter of seconds. </span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Something that I keep replaying over and over. Something I keep thinking about because it was such sweet moments spent with my sisters. So much laughter released at a high-top table outside of Chimes in Covington. Surrounded by so many strangers who knew not a single thing about us but only heard the chaos coming from our table. But we didn't care. We were too excited about the three of us being alone together for the first time in over 5 years. We took so many pictures; so many selfies. We honestly did not care about the older couple walking down to the waterfront staring at us as we made such ugly faces in the pictures we were taking. We did not care about the man paddling down the river in his kayak, who could clearly see my other sisters 'droppin it like it's hot' as I sat on the dirty bench just a clicking away and capturing the moments. What the older couple walking down to the waterfront and the man kayaking didn't know was that we three were sisters and we hadn't been able to have dinner, just the three of us, in over 5 years. </span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In our mid-teen years, we became separated into different families, different lifestyles, different schools, different churches, new sisters and brothers. Our lives that once were the same, became very distinct in differences. We no longer saw each other every morning, every evening, every night. Although Lorena and I stayed pretty close in our relationship, the relationship we had with Kasey dissipated as the days passed. Underneath the childhood anger we had with one another, was a love and bond we cherished. A love and a bond that lasted through extremely difficult circumstances. A love and bond that despite the odds, fought through the tough battles that screamed at us to forget one another.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">Not only with one another, but with ourselves individually. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The hand of Christ has been on our lives since the very beginning. If it had not been for that, we three would be drug addicts, alcoholics, or anything else on those lines. We could have taken what was done to us and the things we saw and allowed it to make us those addicts and alcoholics that life said we should've been. But we did not. We beat the odds and statistics that said we'd never accomplish anything in life because we trusted in God and still do trust in God to use our testimonies. To use our hurts, our brokenness and make it into this beautiful creation more than any of us could ever fathom.</span></div>
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Melindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11302643878730448847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4591268285452929042.post-64345798218830156822018-01-16T22:36:00.000-08:002018-10-24T06:11:03.876-07:00a slave no more<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="font-size: large;"><i>Children often times model themselves after their parents or the parental figures in their life. Their personal view of themselves become discretely molded and crafted by the actions and words of their parents. Combined with other influential matters, the positive or negative way children view themselves are revealed through their parents perceptions. What parents say about their children, what they say to them and even how they view their own selves greatly influence how their children's identity is being formed. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i> As a child, my parents did not have a healthy involvement in my life. Having been removed from their care at age three, it allowed them more freedom (so to say) to live how they wanted without any regards to having four children who needed them. Although our caregivers raised us to their best ability, my identity began forming and being molded by my mother and father. As far back as I can remember, I felt like I constantly had to fight for my parents attention, love and affection. Both of my parents had their own addictions and made their significant others more important than their children. Which in return made me feel like I had to do or be something in order to gain their love/affection. I wasn't good enough. When I became old enough to see their lies and broken promises, I began to distrust everything. I learned very quickly and so hard that nothing I did or said could make them change or want to be different. Their addictions, their selfish desires, their wants...it overruled my desperate cries for their attention and affection. Through that, I learned that my own feelings were not valid enough. They didn't mean anything. They weren't worth anything. As quickly as I learned these things, I encountered other traumatic experiences that just maximized the identity already molded by my parents. By age eleven, my identity had been formed based off of my parents and these experiences. And lets just say, it was not a good one. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i> "If my parents couldn't love me, how on earth could someone else want to love me", "My parents lied about everything, how can I trust that you won't do the same" were some of the thoughts I constantly had running through my head about other relationships. "I am not good enough", "I won't ever measure up", "Something is wrong with me" were some of the ways I harshly viewed myself. I thought the decisions my parents made were a direct view of myself, what it said about me. My mom moving to Ohio revealed I wasn't important enough to make her stay. My dad choosing to value his girlfriends children more than his own revealed something in me that just wasn't good enough for him. As I got older, more relationships began forming which meant more distrust, more negative thoughts about me if something went wrong. Because my identity was created at a young age, I carried it with me and allowed it to stick throughout my entire life. I thought my identity protected me. I thought it warned me from possible heartbreak. Possible hurt. But it didn't. It created this anxiety within me that was always prepared for the absolute worst. When beginning new relationships, it created a war within my mind that made me question the other persons motives. It sent me on quests to find out if their words actually held any truth. It began destroying my mind...that is until I deeply studied Romans 6.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i> I have read Romans 6 multiple times before, but a couple week ago when I was studying it, something different stood out to me. The entire chapter is explaining what dying to sin and living for Christ actually means. Romans 6:4-11 says,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b style="background-color: black;"><span class="text Rom-6-4" id="en-NLT-28034" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">"4 </span>For we died and were buried with Christ by baptism. And just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glorious power of the Father, now we also may live new lives. </span></span><span class="text Rom-6-5" id="en-NLT-28035" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">5 </span>Since we have been united with him in his death, we will also be raised to life as he was.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span class="text Rom-6-6" id="en-NLT-28036" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">6 </span>We know that our old sinful selves were crucified with Christ so that sin might lose its power in our lives. We are no longer slaves to sin.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span class="text Rom-6-7" id="en-NLT-28037" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">7 </span>For when we died with Christ we were set free from the power of sin.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span class="text Rom-6-8" id="en-NLT-28038" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">8 </span>And since we died with Christ, we know we will also live with him.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span class="text Rom-6-9" id="en-NLT-28039" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">9 </span>We are sure of this because Christ was raised from the dead, and he will never die again. Death no longer has any power over him.</span><span class="text Rom-6-10" id="en-NLT-28040" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">10 </span>When he died, he died once to break the power of sin. But now that he lives, he lives for the glory of God.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span class="text Rom-6-11" id="en-NLT-28041" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">11 </span>So you also should consider yourselves to be dead to the power of sin and alive to God through Christ Jesus."</span></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i> When I read these verses, I was reminded that my old self had been crucified with Christ when I was baptized. My old ways of thinking and viewing myself no longer has dominion over my life. Jesus didn't just die. He was resurrected and raised from the dead. Just as I spiritually was too, I now have the ability to walk in the newness of life. My anxiety, my fears, my worries, and all that I have allowed my self to be a slave to NO LONGER HAS DOMINION OVER ME. Those things do not have the final say. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i> As a child, my identity was molded by my parents. As a child of God, I must allow my identity to be molded by my father, God. He's a loving father who is working all things together for good and for His glory, in his timing. He is a father who loves me and sees me as valued. A father who accepts me as I am and diligently works to make me new. A father who loves me enough to correct me when I need correcting. Just as I formed those negative thoughts from my parents, I can form positive and life changing thoughts about how God sees me and what was done through Jesus. </i></span></div>
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Melindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11302643878730448847noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4591268285452929042.post-3144029442382026492017-06-24T18:51:00.000-07:002018-01-16T22:46:30.387-08:00He Will Hold Me Fast<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Image result for he will hold me fast" 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" /></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On June 8th of this year, only by the grace of God, by countless prayers and by many talks with sweet friends/mentors, I stopped counseling. Almost three years of weekly (sometimes biweekly) counseling sessions filled with gut-wrenching memories and gruesome conversations all came to a close. And what a blessing that closing was. </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Since the sixth grade (11 years), I have had nothing but the trauma of my childhood in an easily accessible spot planted inside my brain. The hurt and the memories were deeply imprinted even months and years after, continuously awaiting a trigger that allowed for sporadic flashbacks and nightmares to occur. They were filled with similar feelings and emotions that I once experienced; an overwhelming sensation of enduring it again. This created different emotions that became like a volcano waiting to erupt throughout my life and relationships, taking away my ability to feel loved and safe. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After living this way for seven years, I made the decision to get professional help. I had gone to counseling before a few times, but not because it was something I wanted but because I was forced to go. Each time, the counseling never lasted long. But freshman year of college, I knew I needed to seek help. I looked online and found a counselor that incorporated scripture and the bible into the sessions. The first two years, I never spoke unless I was asked questions. My counselor did a lot of the talking as I just sat there, often times in another world unaware of what was being said. I did the "homework" and would talk about "surface level trauma" (as I like to call it). Nothing of the trauma I endured was easy to talk about, but there were situations that weren't as hard to discuss. So, for the first two years, I never thoroughly talked about the abuse from my brother or father. I could speak of them but never about what happened. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Although going to counseling, I still experienced the nightmares and had the triggers. The smell of my father's cologne, the smell of cigarette smoke, and the smell of mint gum combined with alcohol breath (my dad tried to cover up his drunkenness by popping in a mint gum when he dropped us back off) were some of the triggers that erupted my thoughts, emotions and feelings. It didn't end until about a year ago when my counselor forced me to talk. I was in mid-sentence of answering her question when she interrupted me pointing out abruptly my lack of talking and the short surface leveled answers. My mind raced with anger and frustration as I argued with her in my head "How could she be so rude? Did she just not hear me tell her what happened this weekend (after having been asked)?" Oh, man was I furious! After the session was over, I got on the phone the SECOND I stepped foot out of her door, ready to complain to a mentor about what just happened. And surprisingly enough, after hearing me complain and nag about what was just said about me, my mentor, who knows me way better than I know myself, says, "What if she is right?". After getting over my pride and frustrations, I realized the scary depth of that truth. I had been going to counseling for almost two years yet I had not even come close to touching the deep trauma. MIND BLOWN. I had been discussing my day to day life struggles, reverting it all back to my childhood and seeing why I acted and coped the way I did. But never did I open the door to discuss what happened behind those closed doors and the memories that not many knew about. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">At the same time, I dropped my Criminal Justice class due to various triggers from the discussion topics and it was in those moments of knee bent prayers, that I knew I had to talk in counseling. It wasn't simply just talking though, it was being honest in counseling and with myself about the abuse as well as the emotional effects I still carried around with me. It was allowing the light of God's grace, mercy, love and forgiveness to be shown into the darkness of the trauma. It was allowing his truth to be spoken to me through my pain.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After talking with my counselor about potentially being ready to really talk, we began a book titled "Shelter Through the Storm"; a book that is full of scripture and of God's truth to the reality and depth of sexual abuse. I completely freaked out a few weeks as I awaited the arrival of the book. I began over analyzing the strenuous memories and being fearful of what I would feel after deeply remembering again. I cried out to God at the very start of this begging him to be near and knowing that this road ahead of me would be challenging, he did just that. At times when the memories overwhelmed me and hindered me from wanting to continue, I sought the Lord. Even when I sought out help and comfort from others, they all pushed me back to him. Even when I wanted to quit, H E held me fast. Even when at times it felt like it was only becoming worse, the Lord remained faithful and gave me hope.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We have been talking about the life of Joseph (one of my favorites) at church these past few Sunday's and it has been so good for me. The story of Joseph is one that I am always drawn to. Joseph was thrown into slavery by his own brothers, falsely accused of rape, and then thrown into prison for years. He suffered repeatedly for years and just when things began to look good, something else was thrown his way. But every time another trial came up, Joseph knew the Lord was with him.<br /><br /><b>"The Lord was with Joseph, and he became a successful man, and he was in the house of his Egyptian master. His master saw that the Lord was with him and that the Lord caused all that he did to succeed in his hands. So Joseph found favor in his sight and attended him, and he made him overseer of his house and put him in charge of all that he had." (Genesis 39:2–4)<br /><br />"But the Lord was with Joseph and showed him steadfast love and gave him favor in the sight of the keeper of the prison. And the keeper of the prison put Joseph in charge of all the prisoners who were in the prison. Whatever was done there, he was the one who did it. The keeper of the prison paid no attention to anything that was in Joseph's charge, because the Lord was with him. And whatever he did, the Lord made it succeed." (Genesis 39:21–23)</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Joseph endured years of trial but he stayed dependent on God and trusting in him. He stayed faithful to the Lord throughout all the detours of his life and the Lord was faithful to deliver. Joseph went from being a prisoner to being in charge of all of the Land of Egypt. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Although it took many years and challenging trials, He fulfilled his promise to Joseph. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eight months after starting the book and having stopped counseling, I am in awe of the work God has done in me and his faithfulness to me when I, at times, doubted his presence. Looking back at the past ten years, I realized I was in bondage. My thoughts, my feelings, my memories, my emotions were all entangled together with the trauma of my past being its anchor, holding it down. I allowed my life to be defined by what happened to me forcing myself into believing lies that said I was unworthy and unloved. I spent years thinking that if I only knew why, it would lessen the hurt. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Through the <span style="font-size: large;">MIGHTY </span>work of the Lord and counseling days that I thought would never end, I am content. I have seen countless stories revealing God's faithfulness and true character in the bible that I don't need to know why but just trusting in God and having faith in his promises is enough. And man, it is not easy for me. I like to know everything and if I don't know something, it scares me and makes me become fearful. But I am slowly learning to take life day by day. I am not oblivious to the struggles I will have even after stopping counseling. Situations will come up dealing with my childhood trauma, and they will be hard. But just as he has always done, the Lord will hold me fast. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10</span></i></div>
Melindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11302643878730448847noreply@blogger.com0