Facing the Darkness: Heading Down ...Volume 2

So...I have changed the title of this "novel". It began as, "My Journey to the Light". It is now, "Facing the Darkness", since that is what I did. Yes, it led me to the truth that lives in the light. The light that God instilled within my being, at conception. The light that I turned my back on as life continued to whip its furry upon me. 

This is actually the 3rd entry, even though it says Volume 2. The first was a preview of things to come.

My last entry most likely left you with either feeling sorry for me, or scratching your head wondering how in the world I could stay, knowing the abuse of a very conflicted husband was inevitable. Regardless of the threats. Well...I was raised to be an obedient child. Children were to be seen and not heard, and girls not even seen, if possible. That stuck with me through most of my young adulthood. I have no doubt our parents loved us deeply. It was just the era I was born in. Looking back, it now seems those years to be an entirely different world. And even though women have advanced by leaps and bounds and for the most part, have the respect of their husbands, during the 60's & 70's, there was still that naive little girl inside of me that bowed to her oppressor. Feeling trapped. 

Thinking about the wedding vows, I wondered why the male even bothered repeating them. That does sound harsh, doesn't it? It's just how I perceived life to be. We girls were expected to honor the vows, but it didn't seem as though the guys had to. Those vows were for the "weaker" sex. And being the weaker sex, we respected the men folk as the stronger ones and we had no place questioning that. Things began changing when the women folk began their journey into the work place, leaving their children for others to raise, as they helped "bring home the bacon." Only problem was, they still had to fry it up, as well as tend to the children, do the laundry, clean the kitchen, etc., when they got home. The family unit was about to be broken, or rearranged, at the very least. Progress, they said. It took a lot of years for men to finally realize that if their wives had to work outside the home, helping them with the financial part of the marriage, then they needed to help with the children & the house work, just to keep things running smoothly. But that's now. And this story is about then...the late 60's and early 70"s. Mostly...

The years spent in darkness wrecked me. I didn't feel repairable. I felt numb, without hope, lost, and very bruised. I had no one to lean on. Coming out of the abusive marriage, I was at a crossroads, of sorts. Which path do I take? I chose the wrong path, as I absorbed all the compliments given by various men. No one had ever told me I was beautiful. That I had a great smile. No one had told me I was too good for a place such as this. It was amazing to me. Little did I know it was only a ploy to get me believing yet another set of lies. Lies that would cause me to believe this was what I was meant for. No commitments, just fun. I really did think I was living the life. A boyfriend got me an interview at Roger Miller's King of the Road Hotel, working as a cocktail waitress at the Roof. This was a lounge located on the actual roof of the hotel, where singer/songwriters, like Charlie Pride, Dottie West, Ronnie Milsap, Tanya Tucker, Charlie Rich (The Silver Fox), and Kris Kristofferson, to name a few, would come to preform. I got to meet so many of these music stars, serving them and their friends from the bar, and of course all the locals who came to listen and drink. It seemed safe to me. No one ever threatened me or spoke with anger to me. They all seemed to actually love who & what I was. I looked forward to my job, my friends, my life. Until about 3 years into it and finding out this "no commitment" deal wasn't something to be desired. This life I found myself to be enjoying, was a life of loneliness. A life where others used you for what you could do for them, not because they valued you. I had walked out of the frying pan and into the fire. Then God began to call my name.

Letters to my sister was a common occurrence once I began my downward spiral. She was the one person I knew I could trust. She had always been my protector, remember? The letters were desperate letters, to which she would always respond with, "Mary, Jesus is the answer you are looking for." At the end of myself, I remember writing to her (a letter I still have, by-the-way), that ended with, "Please HELP me!" Yes, I was a bit dramatic, but the cry came from deep inside me. She called me. Told me to start packing, that she, along with my brother and sister-in-law was coming for me, to bring me home. She was hoping this was the right decision, I learned later on. She, nor my brother and his wife, had any idea what they were going to do with me once they got me back to Oklahoma. All they knew was they had to get me out of the dark pit I had fallen into. I couldn't even bring myself to start the packing process. That's how torn I was. Linked to the life I was living yet knowing I needed/wanted more for my life. Somewhere deep inside of me was still that innocent little girl needing someone to really love her for who she was. 

As my family packed FOR me, I sat in a corner and cried, never lifting a finger to help. I was so deeply lost. Once again, Beck rescued me, and we started the long road trip back to Oklahoma. As the years flew by, I began to realize just how much I WAS loved, and how God's grace had covered me in many instances all those years of walking down a path that would take me to the end of myself. That's where He meets us. When we finally give up our rights to ourselves...

Remember the gold trimmed Family Bible that sat on my coffee table? After my encounter with it, that one eventful afternoon, I began questioning how God could use me for anything. Total sadness surround a feeling of defeat, of a life filled with failure. I was certain He couldn't, and the dreams wouldn't leave me alone. They were continually consistent, and all happened between the years of 1971-72. 

Most of the terrifying dreams were of water rising up around my feet and I knew I was going to drown. When I was a mere 9 years old, one of my prankster brothers threw me into the deep end of a swimming hole we used to go to at the end of a hot day. "Sink or swim," he had said. I was sinking...going down for the 3rd time, when my sister, my protector, swam out to me and grabbed me. I've been afraid of water ever since that day. 

So many dreams about rising water. In one such dream, I was walking across a bridge that covered a large expanse of water. Water as far as the eye could see. The problem was that the bridge stopped somewhere far away from the shore and hovered over the water with no support at all. When I got to the end of the bridge, with no place to go, it began crumbling into the water and I went in with it. As I was swallowed up, I realized I had a baby in my arms that needed saving. I stretched as far as I could, with baby in between my hands, lifting her head just above the water. I knew she was safe. I had this dream night after night. Same dream. Always. This dream usually lasted 3-4 nights at a time. Recurring from time to time. At that time I had no idea what it all meant, but now I know that it was God showing me that I would be okay, and that I was worthy of saving. The baby was me. I was about to be reborn. Given a fresh start, with all my sins against myself and my God, forgiven and made whole.

Another dream that kept coming was one where I was walking alone somewhere in a wooded area. The ground was mostly sand. All of a sudden, the ground opened up and swallowed me. I begin to try and climb up the sides of this sandy pit. As I put my hands to work, reaching above my head and digging my fingers into the walls, the sand began to fall in on top of me. The more I tried getting free, the more it swallowed me, until I was completely buried alive with nothing but darkness to comfort me. I was so afraid I was going to die there. They say you can't feel pain in a dream, but I felt as if I was suffocating. Without actually hearing the words, I knew to turn to my left. To look away from my situation. What a wonderful surprise! An archway filled with light that came streaming into my grave, stood waiting for me to pass through it. I simply turned and walked out. Free! That's all it takes, folks. We just have to turn from where we find death all around us, and walk away.

As I'm reliving these dreams, I am reminded of the constant companion dream I had as a child. Any time I was afraid, any time I felt in danger, I would simply lift myself up off the ground by waving my arms in the air until they lifted me up into the sky, far above the trees and far away from danger. Those dreams always gave me hope. As I soared above the tree lines, I could look down and see the confusion of my enemy. Even then, God was making a way of escape for me.

God never left me after being brought back home to Oklahoma. Soon after arriving, I took a job in a local bar (it's all I knew, besides factory work...which I hated). It was an "okay" job, but nothing like I had experienced in Tennessee. Here, all the girls put their tips together and shared them at the end of the night. The seasoned waitresses knew how to manipulate and I could see what they were doing. I was given all the tables the first night. "Training" they said, as they stood at the bar and giggled. They worked very little the first week of my employment there, yet was allowed to take home tips I had earned throughout the nights of working my hiney off. Since I knew how to work a table, the tips were good. Not as good as I was used to, but good. I decided being made a fool of was for the naive, and I wasn't going to allow it any longer. So, I quit. No notice, no phone call to my employer. I just didn't show up. That night, the establishment was raided and all the girls were taken to jail. I still don't know the full story on that one, but the irony was more than a coincidence in my opinion.

As the years went by, any time I found myself sinking back into a pit of despair, God would visit me in my dreams. One such dream that I had when facing depression, was of my Mother. Any time I would have flash backs of the years lived in Tennessee, I would experience terrifying nights. The demons I faced were extreme. Satan had lost his battle with me and God had pulled me to Himself. Just beginning my journey into the light, the darkness I had lived in for so many years, attacked me with very frightening images while I slept. Some would call them night terrors. Whatever they were, I would wake up screaming. Blood curdling screams...but then Mom arrived.

I was with a bunch of people I didn't know, yet followed them into a cave that appeared to be a house. I was left alone and trapped, with no way out. Then I "heard" my Mom calling my name. It was just knowing she was calling out to me, rather than an actual voice saying my name. I looked out through the muddy tunnel that was gradually filling with water, and saw her surrounded in light with her hand reaching out to me, beckoning me to come to her. Showing me the way out, she stood with a gentle smile on her face. I couldn't believe my mom was there, yet there she was asking me to come toward her. "Mary, come this way." Mom had been deceased for many years, living with her Creator, yet she appeared to me in this dream with instructions on what to do. On how to survive. Again, I had no idea what that could mean. As a young Christian, the choices of days gone by, haunted me. They invaded my new life as I was being renewed from the inside out. I believe God had sent her to show me what needed to be focused on. I needed to follow the light. Not the darkness. Darkness hides our deeds, light exposes them. Good, or bad.

All these dreams were metaphorical, of course. God was entering my world to pull me out of that sandy pit that sought to consume me, up out of the dark waters that were drowning me, but saving the new life that was mine, and then called to me through my Momma to come up out of the dark, smelly cave that I had willing walked into. What do the metaphors relate to, you ask? 

1) The sand pit was the life I was living, and as I tried to free myself from it, it only encompassed me more. I was trying to do it on my own, and clearly that wasn't working.

2) The partial bridge that ended in the middle of the sea, was the road I was traveling at that time. It was leading me to certain death. Death of who I was created to be. The baby was the spirit God had placed within me during the knitting together time in my momma's womb. God was helping me save that part of who I was born to be. He was giving me a second chance at getting it right.

3) The muddy, water filled "cave" was once again, the choices I had made that resulted in me being trapped in a lifestyle that produced only loneliness at the end of the day. There's always a way out, we just can't see it when we are bound and blind. And the consequences of seeds sown, must also reap a harvest that takes time to destroy, so a new crop can come up. My mom was sent as someone I trusted to be a gentle soul, with only truth spoken, or implied. The fact she was encased in light, was symbolic of the place she now resides, with God. I never felt more loved than in that dream, even though I was about to die. All I need do was to choose to obey her, because she was sent from a loving God.

4) Dreams of flying, when I was a child. I just think was a way of escape for me. When I couldn't outrun my problems, I found a way to rise above them, not allowing them to hurt me. I wanted to stay there forever.

Welllll...that's enough for today's snippet of doing life without the life giver. I promise this will all be over soon, and I will get on with posting lighter content.

As the years fly past me, I want more and more to help someone, anyone, that may be having thoughts of suicide, or giving up, or having feelings of worthlessness, or having virtually no hope. I want to be one that reaches out a hand of hope, one that brings truth into dark places, into the dark recesses of the mind, and position them face forward into the light of redemption.

Travel with me, here, in Mary's World...

Dead or Alive

 I can feel myself giving up. I don't like this feeling…it's never been a part of me.

Those around me try to encourage me. They sometimes speak harshly to me, as they tell me of the disappointment they feel upon hearing my words express failure. They're not accustomed to that. They want to push me forward, no matter how it's done. And they quietly take on my heaviness…

Sounds pretty dim, doesn't it? In reality, I will never give up on life, but I might give up on trying to resuscitate that which is seemingly dead. Most people go through stages of wanting to quit, because what they have put their hand(s) to, just hasn't produced what they expected. It's not that enough time wasn't given to produce…

Last night was the kicker. I poured over my books looking for reasons not to bury the dead horse, instead of pushing her to live. She still breathes, albeit shallow, but none-the-less...breathing. There is a small amount of life, but it's as if she weighs 2 ton and cannot move beyond the borders of her small, little box. Is it because I'm so used to prosperity? Used to having work in front of me, once I arrive? So used to familiar faces and activity? Accustomed to the sound and feel of life?

I must face the ultimate questions. Is it truly a different season, a different calling, a different purpose or need for my life? How long is long enough? 1 year, 2 years, 3 years? How long should I hold onto
this thing I have called opportunity? How tightly should I hold on? Did I somehow miss the mark? How do I stir up excitement in what I do…again, when all my efforts never seem to be enough?

I've never believed in retirement. I always have, and still do, believe there is something we can put our hands to as long as we have breath. Something that produces fruit from our labors. Yet, too much of a good thing (without challenges), will bring the stench of death. You know it's true. We all have walked this path, or will, at some point in our lives. It's there for a reason. There's only one other time I've walked this way. It was during times of hiding. Hiding from life. Hiding from fear of being seen. Hiding for fear of my life. And the quietness that surrounded those times, was deafening. Still is…so what am I afraid of, NOW?

During the times of hiding, voices come into your mind…loud and clear. Fear of those voices mocking you, making fun of you, chiding you, showing disappointment in you...all so very overwhelming! You tend to notice body language, when there are no words coming from the recipient of your questions. Smirks, the infamous eye-roll, the shaking of the head (however minimal it might be). You notice the increased volume in people's voices, as they respond to you…when they respond to you. Who are we dealing with here? Is it others? Or ourselves?

King David, from Old Testament readings, once said, "I have been young, and now I am old; yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken, or his descendants begging bread." ~Psalm 37:25 Can that be true? Was that meant to be a universal statement? There is no way of knowing, for sure, the completeness of what David was saying. Or can we? All we can rightly suppose, is that because of the trust we have in God, we push ourselves to be productive people. And with that push, we depend on God for results. If the results are not there, we may need to consider if we are choosing rightly. Right? Or maybe we've chosen our path without inviting God to direct our steps...because we're quite capable of managing our own lives, thank you.

Change is ever present. And even though "there is nothing new under the sun" (Ecclesiastes 1:9-10), change in individual lives constantly happens. Nothing stays the same..in our body, in our conscience state of mind, in our observations, in our livelihood, in our spiritual debates, etc., etc. It's all happened before we came along. It's not a new thing. It shouldn't surprise us when those who have lived a long life, understand our dilemmas. Never tell an old person they can't possibly understand because this is a new era. Geez…how long does it take us to understand there is wisdom that comes from living life, that when applied to life, actually makes a difference in the outcome of life?

Sometimes it seems as though I am doing the same thing, over and over and over, while all along expecting different results. We all know what that means, right? Albert Einstein claimed it to be insanity. We must change with change. We must not try to hold onto what God is prying out of our hands…so-to-speak. Can we continue to express what has been our passion for so many years but possibly in a different scenario? Can passion change for lack of activity? Can it die? When life goes out of our passion, how, or can, it live again?

I think this vein has been tapped. It's collapsed, and gives no life. Now, what do I do? It is a grievous task to be afflicted with. It all seems to be in vain…like striving after the wind."

_________________________________________________________________________________

What you just read was a post from July 18, 2014, saved to a draft. I was feeling lost after almost 2

years of what seemed like butting my head against the proverbial wall as I tried to establish a new business in a new state. The post never got published. As I searched through the archives, looking for a particular article and never finding it, I ran across this one titled, "Dead or Alive". It peaked my interest.


Today is February 29, 2016. Maybe, since it's been a year and 7 months ago that my world looked so glum, I should tap into what seemed a mind set on that particular day and see if there may have been answers along the way. I will share the most recent...

Yesterday, Sunday morning, Feb. 28, 2016...I was eating breakfast when a thought entered my mind. Dennis had gone to serve at the church, so I was alone with my thoughts. I like those moments. *wink*

Thought #1: "Sometimes you need to chase the wind. You just may find yourself mounting up with wings as those of an eagle." Scripture reference from Isaiah 40:31 says, "...but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Ahhh...sweet confirmation (notice the very last sentence of the 2014 post). Interesting. Yes?

It has long been said that those who "chase the wind" are living in a fantasy world. That they are trying to cause something to happen that has "impossible" written all over it. If there has been anything I've learned during the years of my existence, it is that the impossible is the place you find God the most. That's His territory. That's where He can show himself faithful. That is the place where you finally realize your abilities are not the end all. Where we fail, God does not. It all has purpose and if we look close enough, we'll see God's hand at work in our lives. Not just our businesses. They are both the same, really. We cannot, or at least, should not, be a different person at work than at home. We are to be who we were created to be, wherever we find ourselves to be.

Thought #2: So, what does this look like, for me and the business we began in 2012? How do I "chase the wind?"
     1. I must extend myself in the difficult areas of what I do.
     2. I must continue to educate myself in industry changes, as I listen for God's guidance.
     3. I must run towards the impossible...prove God's faithfulness.
     4. I must increase my energy levels by eating healthy at ALL times. We are to honor our physical bodies that were designed by God, maintained by us.
     5. I must think bigger than myself and the space I take up. Give more than I get.
     6. I must push through barriers. Resistance creates strength.
     7. I must not allow discouragement to consume my thoughts.

I was so pumped after this "revelation." I can do this! Take care of grand-baby during the week-days, work at the salon, nights and weekends. Then I went to church. And what does the pastor minister on?  Patience. I was all over that, with ears perked up, confirming my decision to push through difficult work hours...until the last word he spoke for the day. He said, "The first service didn't get this story..." And then he told about a particular tribe that enjoyed eating certain types of monkeys. They always had a hard time catching them, so they set a trap filled with food so that when the monkey reached for the food, it's hand could not be removed, because it was unwilling to let go of the food. He used the illustration to tell us to let go of what we were holding onto so tightly. Then we could live. WHAT?!!!

Back to the drawing board, because that story was just for me, right? Patience in letting go of what I've always thought to be good for me. Death would give way to life, if I'd just let go.

And this, my friends, is how my mind treats me ALL. THE. TIME. I make what I feel to be an excellent decision. A God led decision. And then, bam! The for-sure decision gets knocked out of the ballpark, just so I can go searching again for that darn ball. Maybe that's my problem! I keep searching for the ball that was thrown out. Oh my goodness......

There may be changes in the seasons of my life, the chapters of my life book, where I continue to try and create what used to produce life in another reality (instead of letting go), but I'll never give up on the One who directs my steps, all found here...in Mary's World. Stay tuned...

The Little Things

I find myself watching birds more closely than at any other time in my already lived life. They fascinate me. I'm not sure when this all started, I just know that it's now a real thing.

My first emotional connection to these creatures, or in this particular case, their likeness in a ceramic form, was during the Christmas holidays back in 2012. I had moved to North Carolina that past August. I moved ahead of my husband (he stayed in Oklahoma, to sell our house), to get the new salon up and running before the holidays hit. We both thought it the right thing to do, since 1)we had been told our place would sell quickly, and 2)the place I had my eye on to set up business, was quickly filling up. If we didn't act now, the chances of getting the spot I wanted would slip away. So we made the decision, together, that he would stay behind. I didn't like it. It was the hardest thing to send him back once we arrived in NC, with little more than the clothes on my back.

One of our oldest daughter's upstairs bedrooms became my home for the next year...and Dennis had our house all to himself. Like most things, there was the good and the not-so-good attached to that plan. We talked each night before going to bed, reassuring each other (okay...he reassured me), that it was all going to be okay.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, I began to feel myself falling. I was able to maintain somewhat of a positive attitude, but with each long day, my confidence began disappearing. I allowed myself to become easily intimidated and feelings of uselessness overtook me. So unlike me.

That first Christmas, Dennis flew in to celebrate with us...his family, that was now 1200 miles apart. We, along with Todd & Lindsey & Meg, took a small road trip, going West, to Boone and Blowing Rock. They have a lot of really cool shops in both these small towns. Upon entering one of those shops, my eyes immediately saw the prettiest ceramic birds I seen up to that time. I loved the coloring on them, and the touch of detail to their wings and tail feathers.

For no reason at all, except for the fact I was an emotional wreck by that time, I could not contain my tears. We had already spent what money we planned on spending for each other, and they weren't just pocket change. I may have said something like, "I have no place to put them even if we could afford them." Yup...feeling really low. I wouldn't allow myself to even consider we were close to owning our own place again. 

I think it was Lindsey who spoke to her daddy about getting the birds for me as a deposit of something better to come. For hope of a future together again. Along with the birds, he had also purchased a large flat screen television to put in my room. He was helping me cope as best he could. Such a thoughtful guy...and I was so happy to actually be able to look at something (the birds) I could wrap my head around for better days ahead. Something of promise.

I fell in love with the birds and the significance they spoke of. Freedom. How I needed freed...from myself. From my thoughts. From my lack of perspective. From my increasingly growing waistline (and neck). And most of all, from my moping attitude.

So began my love affair with these creatures.

A year after my move, our house sold, and D was able to make his move to NC as well. Now, we have bird feeders, bird houses, and bird baths, in our yard. It is so much fun watching God's creatures as they build, eat, and bathe. They bring a sense of peace to our place...and now I need a deck...it's always something, right?

A couple of days ago, I was meandering around downtown Cary, checking out the businesses that I have not taken the time to visit yet. I came upon a little home and garden shop. I loved the style of the exterior, so decided to venture inside. They had so much to look at, but in a little back room I spotted a couple of small birds that I knew I'd be taking home with me. Aren't they the cutest little things? And unlike the ones purchased in Boone, these little fellas cost me only a bit of pocket change. They're an "I told you so", another prompting to notice the little things in life and not become weighted down from a lack of perspective. When we look at the dust around our feet, it doesn't take long for that dust to become a mire much like quicksand. And it's only purpose is to consume us so that we might not see purpose...and then lose perspective.

Thanking God for His kindness towards us, even in the little things...here, you'll find me...in Mary's World.