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...

Facing the Darkness: Where It All Began...Volume 1

If you haven't read the Preview edition of this story, it may make this entry a bit more understandable. It was posted in January, so if you'd like, just search for the January post, then come back to this one. 

This may be the hardest part of the telling of my life's journey. Exposing the life I lived before surrendering to Christ. Yes...even worse than the physical & mental beatings I took for 4 and 1/2 very long years. And that is why I am having a difficult time remaining faithful to the telling of this story, and have decided to give a little more insight to the time spent in my first marriage, before moving into the years of choice. Let's pick up where we left off in January, but heading back, as if looking in a rear view mirror... 

I suppose one could say the beginning of anything would be birth. But I'm on a mission of shining a light in the dark places that unfolded in this life, as I journeyed back to the light. The light I had yet to walk in, but I knew was there. My purpose for telling these stories is to give others hope in their journey that may be filled with questions, with fear, with hopelessness. When one has been blinded by fear & hate, the darkness becomes home and the only familiar place that will in turn, bind them. As if they were in chains, without any hope of escape.

As a child, I was sexually molested by a male family member. Occasionally, he would try to get me to go with him to our barn loft only a hundred feet, or so, from our house. He "wanted to show me something." I felt it weird that he wanted to hold my hand as he led me to a place I learned to fear. Had it not been for a very protective sister, it could have been so much worse. It is said that one cannot be in two places at the same time, yet she sure did try. I don't think anyone else was aware this was happening...just my protector. She also had been violated by an older brother, so she knew what to watch for, but it just wasn't something you ever would want to talk about. Especially when coming from a large Christian family with roots deep in ministry.

Later, once I had graduated high school, I married the first guy that asked me. He would become my second, but much worse, abuser within the first two months of marriage. We had moved out of a cleaned up shed that was on his parents property located in Peoria, Oklahoma. We slept there, but ate at his parents because we had nothing to cook with, clean with, or bathe with. It was a shed. 

He had been hired by a tire and lube company in Pryor and so we packed our suitcases and left. The first time there was physical abuse came on a day I had laid down for a nap. I slept through the time I was suppose to pick him up, and since he had left the car with me to go for groceries, he had no way of getting home. The anger started the moment he saw me. It didn't matter to him why I wasn't there on time, it was the fact I "did nothing all day" while he worked to support us. It started with a slap across the face, followed by an immediate hug and begging forgiveness. He didn't mean it, didn't know why he did it, would never do it again. Crying...whatever it took for me to give him another chance. Then he began blaming me for his outbursts. If you would just...if you didn't always...if you would just focus on making me happy. It was all about him being abused, not him being the abuser. Many were the nights I took a beating from his hands, his body. He would throw me on the bed or the floor, straddle my chest and begin with a choke hold as he questioned me about things I had no idea what he was talking about. He would let up for a minute, still crushing my chest with his body, slap my face from side to side, then back with the choke hold. Many times he would choke just long enough for me to either completely pass out, or just to the place I was whispering for him to please stop, because I couldn't breathe. I blame those terrifying experiences for a loss of memory of certain time frames in my life.

We eventually moved to Baxter Springs, Kansas. That's where he became unleashed, as it were. Usually he was drunk when the beatings happened. But not always. He was a jealous guy, and if there was any remote possibility of betrayal he could imagine in his head, he would go into a rage. I couldn't look at another guy, speak to another guy, or come within close proximity of another guy, without him being certain I was having an affair. Going to the grocery store was like running a race. I had to be back within 30 minutes or it was interrogation time. He was a very angry man, and I was terrified he would carry out the threats made of killing me and my family if I ever decided to leave him. "I WILL find you," he had said. That, along with beginning to believe his lies that the beatings were my fault, was why I stayed with him as long as I did. Four and a half long years. I was so afraid. Terrified of him, actually, never knowing if tomorrow would come for me, because he had gone too far and I had slipped from this life into the next.  

There are so many stories I could tell you of day-to-day living with this guy. From being forced to do his bidding, to watching him with other women he would bring home to parade in front of me. To mocking me, belittling me. But when in public, he was the nicest guy you'd ever hope to meet. Everyone thought he was the one to look up to as a role model. He was loved. Except for the times he wasn't. Those times were filled with drinking and being just plain mean to his friends. And, at home he was a monster. Once, he literally destroyed the entire interior of the house we were renting. Everything. Every kitchen item, every living room item (he actually threw a can of hairspray through the tv), every bedroom item. It's still so vivid in my mind. He dumped and smeared makeup I had, all over the dresser, and wiped every piece of my clothing (which wasn't that much) all through that makeup. No window, mirror, or door, was left unscathed. He literally destroyed our house. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I had left him after a night of fear as he forced himself on me. Some would say a wife can't be raped by her husband. They would be wrong. Covered in bruises from the waist down to my knees, I was barely able to stand, without shaking, the next morning. When he left for work that morning, he thought I was headed out to work, as well. But I didn't go to work. I went to my brother and sister-in-laws. I wasn't planning on going back to the house for any reason, simply because I was afraid he would show up and trap me. We lived at the end of a long, private back road where one never knew if a car was approaching, or not, until it pulled up outside of our one, and only, door. But a couple of my older brothers said they would go with me, keep the monster away from me should he return, and we would together, gather my belongings. Once we arrived, none of us could believe the damage that had happened to the place. It appeared as if someone, or someTHING, had came in with a vengeance. I don't remember if I was able to salvage anything. Replaying that awful day in my head, I don't think we left with anything. That was a day nightmares are made of! I can only imagine what my brothers were thinking.

He came looking for me. And once again, talked me into going home with him. I couldn't tell you why I went back. Just his touch caused me to shiver. I had left him several times, and gone back. Back to the bondage he offered. Maybe it was because I really felt it was my fault he was like this, just like he had said. Maybe if I would just try harder to be a good wife, everything would be good. It had to be my fault. I know this because he constantly told me it was. I became a pretty quiet person. Afraid to speak. It wasn't until he began threatening death to me and my family, that I stayed put. After the destruction of our cabin, he rented a place not more than half a mile up from it. It was a converted hen house. A narrow building with a tiny bathroom just big enough to shimmy into and out of. A tiny kitchenette provided the one entry door the house had. There was a small apartment sized stove and a very small sink with a tiny window above it, in that room where love was suppose to bring people closer together as meals were shared. There was no room for a table of any kind. We just ate on the floor where we slept. I think it was his mom who provided a mattress for us, just so we wouldn't have to lay on a hard floor all the time. Someone gave us a small end table and a lamp. That was it. No closet, no dinning area, no shower (or tub). We had to wash up with just a washcloth, in the kitchen sink. Then he began accusing me of his infidelity. It was somehow my fault he was cheating.

During those years, I wasn't sure what was reality and what wasn't. Those waters were very troubled. He would throw full cans of beer at me, call me awful names, threaten me, accuse me, whatever he could do...he would. I was constantly questioned if I had to go anywhere without him. One day, after work, he was filling his car with gas and saw me go by on my way home from work. I had pulled up beside a co-worker (male), to tell them their back tire was going flat. He accused me of flirting. It was a bad night.

Many days I would fall asleep at my work table because I'd had very little sleep. I wore my hair long so it could fall over my face to hide the bruises, but it also gave me a chance to nod off at my desk with the hope of not being noticed. It was only because of a very compassionate boss who knew the signs of abuse, that helped me decided I'd had enough. If I was to die at his hands, so be it. I couldn't live another day in fear that I would not see the next day. That decision caused an immediate, and very heavy weight, to be lifted off my shoulders. I no longer cared.  He couldn't believe I could "just stop loving" him. I  told him he had beaten any love I ever felt for him, completely out of me. One just can't grasp what true freedom is, until they have been in debilitating bondage to another human being. I had been in a prison far worse than death, and had decided I would rather be dead than to stay there. I felt as if I had been buried alive and had given up of having any kind of life worth living. Until that one decision that lifted all guilt of leaving an abusive marriage

It went from bad to worse once I was free of this guy. Oh, the physical abuse had stopped, but I had been mentally abused for so long, living in fear, that once freedom came my way, I didn't know how to live. I had come to believe the blanket of lies he had laid upon me. That it was all my fault and that I was so ugly, no one would want me, and that he just allowed me to live with him because he felt sorry for me. On one occasion, he had grabbed me by the hair of my head and slammed my face into a mirror. "Look at that. Who would want THAT?!" 

What I wanted, and felt I needed to do, was find out HOW anyone could be so violent to another person. And what the attraction was, to cheat on a spouse with another married person. Especially when they had vowed to love and cherish each other until death separated them. In my quest for truth, I took a major detour that landed me in the heart of deception. Before moving to Tennessee, I had moved in with one of my brothers, his wife and son. And even though they gave me love and the comforts of home, it wouldn't be long before I felt the need to move away. To get as far away as I could from the monster I had just left.   

Here, I will leave this journeys story until another time. Please remember, as you follow along, that I did rise up from the ashes. Life was just waiting for me to choose it.

Until next time, as always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World.

Facing the Darkness: Preview

Have you ever felt as though you just might be slipping back into an abyss you had already been freed from?

I've heard that God designed our brains to be able to shut out cruel and unjust events that were once a part of a persons existence, just so they could see their future as a brighter hope. I've also seen the quote that floats around Facebook, from time-to-time, as well. It says, "Never look back, you're not going that way."
Ummm...not sure I agree with that.The not looking back part. Maybe that quote would be better served up as, "Don't LIVE in the past. Step into the future." Maybe the quote was meant as, "Never look back (so as to DESIRE it), you're not going that way." That would make better sense.

However, when we remember from whence we came, as we are stepping into the light and becoming who we were designed to be, we can straighten ourselves a bit better. It's because of those dark days that our aim can swing more true, and our hearts become so full of gratitude for the place we find ourselves to be now. I think it may be healthy (in some aspects), to never forget, and on occasion, look back at the days we have allowed to be stolen from us. We just can't stay there long. 

I don't lay blame on anyone for the days I spent in the darkened abyss. I blame only myself, for it was of my own free will that I landed there. Naivety helped get me there, but it was I who chose to remain. Only because I believed a lie. And when I had gotten to the end of myself, where I could no longer breathe, I called out to the God who rescues, "Please don't leave me now."

All I can say is that it was  an amazing morning (early afternoon), for me. I worked nights, until 2 AM, during that time in my life, so many, many years ago. My "mornings" were actually early afternoons. I was sitting on a much too expensive couch that had been purchased with the money I made at Roger Miller's King of the Road Hotel, where I was employed. Working the lounge of the Roof (the actual enclosed with windows, roof of the building and quite beautiful), it wasn't uncommon for me to bring home a bag full of tips. A rather large bag. When you serve those who lose all common sense, while enjoying the music of the rich & famous artists, and ordering one right after the other of those mind altering spirits, it's rather easy to get them to leave a wad of cash...just for you. So, money wasn't an issue for me in those days. But, I wasn't quite the person I was designed to be, either.

Along my journey, I had purchased a Family Bible. Ah...I knew it, you say? Nah. The only reason of purchase (at least in my darkened brain) was because it was pure white, and trimmed in gold. It would look awesome on my glass coffee table, with its gold knobbed corners. Don't gag. It was the early 70's and glass with gold trim was very "in". My apartment was laid out where I had to go through the living room to get to the kitchen. I did eat, on occasion. 

I was miserable that morning (early afternoon). Sick of who I had become. I had literally just sat up in bed, looked into the large vanity mirror, and the first thing coming from my lips was, "I hate you!" As I dragged myself out of bed and past the coffee table with "the Book", I stopped. It was time to see what the inside of that book looked like. I just slipped my fingers into the book and flipped it open. Right smack dab into Isaiah 59. The first 3 verses leaped into my mind, as if an arrow had been waiting to find its mark. Out of that HUGE Bible, it was these verses that I "accidentally" turned to. 

Isaiah 59:1-3: "Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save, nor His ear too dull to hear. But your iniquities have separated you from your God; your sins have hidden His face from you, so that He will not hear. For your hands are stained with blood, your fingers with guilt. Your lips have spoken lies, and your tongue has muttered wicked things." Tears began to roll down my cheeks as I sat alone with the God who saves. The God who knew me. My heart responded with, "Please don't leave me now." My eyes and my mind were very attentive to what they had just read. I could have sworn I heard His voice in that empty-of-life, room. I was fully awake now, and there was an instant need to flip past those pages that exposed what I had become. Let me stop for just a second here, to let you know it's not that easy to run when God is speaking into your heart. Try as we might, we won't get far. We may run, but we can't hide. That next random flip of the pages, landed at Isaiah 1:18. "Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord. Though your sins be like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool." What in the world?! It's as though someone knew me from the inside out. And that's all I could handle that particular afternoon. My heart was racing, as the tears flowed from my eyes. The book closed as the last 3 years flooded from the dark recesses of my mind and memories came oozing out as I sat and cried on what money had purchased for me, but could not give what I needed. The love I was looking for wasn't to be found where I was looking. Wasn't it the most ironic thing that God used the thief, the guy I was "doing life" with, to tell me what a nice look it would be for that large white Bible to have a place on my coffee table? Don't you see? God rescues us, no matter what avenue He must take to do it. He uses whomever is available even when they don't realize they are being used by God for a higher purpose. He simply meets us where we are. Somewhere in the darkness.

Let's take a short look back, before the day God grabbed my attention. One of the beginning wake-up calls came as I was sitting across the table from one of my friends. It was during an early breakfast, after work. It was 3 AM, and Faith (ironic name for this friend), who just happened to be one of the foulest mouthed gals I had ever ran into, was about to speak into my life. We were sitting across from each other, at a local Denny's restaurant. I couldn't tell you what we were talking about. I don't remember that. The thing that found a lodging place in my mind, was what she responded with. As she leaned back and laughed, she said, "Wow! You have got the foulest mouth of anyone I have ever known." I couldn't believe my ears. I was truly taken aback. Shocked, actually. I had thought SHE had the foulest of foul mouths. And to have her say that about ME, shook my world. But it would take more than that to pull me back. To get me to take a good hard look at myself.

I had been raised in a Christian home, that had imperfect people living as Godly a life as they could. Lots of rules. Lots of discipline. Lots of work. None of which should be declared bad. Some pretty awesome people came from that home. We weren't without fault, or without strongholds that would eventually need addressed in our later years. But, it was our life, and the goal was one of raising young lives to grow into responsible citizens. I think Mom & Dad succeeded. A few of us strayed (ya think?) from the straight and narrow, but, we all came back to it. Eventually. And we were all very responsible individuals that carried our own weight and the weight of others, in many cases. We worked together, we played (when there was time) together, we went to church together. Yet, we all needed rescued at some point in our lives, simply because humanity does not understand the way of true love, until they meet the One who gave up His rights to himself to show us the meaning of real love. He's a personal God that knows us from the inside out. Can you agree?

So...back to my beginning question. "Have you ever felt as though you just might be slipping back into an abyss you had already been freed from"? It's so easy to make declarations of the knowledge of Christ, the commitments we have made to Him, only to have it become a new form of Gnosticism, which claims that special knowledge is the way to God. However, true love is the only evidence that one is following Christ. When someone is unkind, someone who is suppose to be holding your heart as if Christ were holding it, uses words to pierce that heart, strong feelings of dislike for that person arises. Possibly even hate. Yeah, that's a strong word. But it causes a storm to gather overhead, yes? Now you must deal with what seems like a wicked and evil force that has laughed in your face. 

We are imperfect people that must aright ourselves from time to time. What we need ask ourselves is this: Am I arguing doctrine and heresies while pointing fingers at sinners? Am I living in fear of loss, condemnation, darkness? Am I sharing my love with only those who love me in return? Do I constantly defend myself from those who judge me? 

Here is what Paul says about love: "...love does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, is not easily angered, and holds no record of wrong." ~I Corinthians 13:5    Wow...that takes a minute or two (or an eternity) to think about.

We all want to enter that room that holds all these truths, but when we do, we have to leave all that we treasure behind. All our rights to ourselves. Be honest. Isn't that all it comes down to? Demanding our rights to ourselves. Demanding love where none is given? Taking care of number 1? Well, we can't be in both rooms at the same time, in the same way that darkness cannot be in light, in the same way that fear cannot be in love. We cannot serve two masters at the same time.

I think I've given us enough to chew on for awhile. The abyss awaits those who choose it. So does freedom...

It's sticky. It's Murky. It's frightening, to go back and relive in our minds what was. But sometimes it's necessary. Just to remind ourselves we aren't the same person we used to be. That alone makes it so much easier for me to "hold no record of wrong", simply because there is no darkness in light. Once truth has been revealed, forgiveness becomes truth. 

Want more of my story back from the darkness? It was a long journey. Many stories to tell. Not sure if I can, actually. 

Still, I'll try, here...in Mary's World.

Crazy Dreams...Or Are They?

The morning was about to present itself to me as I lay sleeping. The suddenness with which I awoke, told me I had just encountered a terrifying event. I had gone to a very large building, a high-rise, where my sister, Becky, was an employee. She was one of the administrators and was held in high esteem. She was dressed the part, as well. One would know right from the start that she was the one in charge.

We were up high...not sure which floor, but I'm guessing, from the looks of it, we were at least several stories up. The landing we were on, was open space with no railing to keep anyone from plummeting to their certain death. Becky walked quietly over to the edge, as if she were in deep thought about something. I didn't like her so close to the edge of the landing, so I went over to ask her to move back a bit. As soon as I got there, I spoke her name, and was about to touch her arm, when she whirled around, as if startled. As she turned, one of her feet slipped off the ledge and she fell....

I heard myself screaming for help. "Call 911!" I screamed, my heart racing, as I ran down the spiral staircase to where she had landed. It seemed forever before I could reach her. As I ran, I saw a man come up to where she was thrashing on the floor. She was saying, "Someone help me. Please help me." One of her legs was bent back, and her whole body was convulsing. The young man gathered her in his arms and tossed her body up into the air, causing it to rotate full circle, before falling into his arms. The convulsing stopped. All was well. No more pain. No more fear.

That was the end of the dream. I have lived 73 years, and from the age of 25 years, I have had spiritual dreams. I learned how to recognize those dreams, and the "mean nothing" dreams. The spiritual dreams are ALWAYS short. And I never forget them. They stick with me. The mean nothing dreams are usually very long and jump from place to place. This was a spiritual dream. But, what does it mean? 

My sister was a prisoner inside her own body. PSP had taken its grip on her. The commands came from her mind to her body, but the body refused to respond to those commands. She was rendered lifeless, yet alive. 

Why I needed the dream to assure me she was well, I don't know. Somethings, we will never understand, until we, too, go back home. The place from whence we came, the Father's home. For this dream, I believe I was shown the beauty of belonging to Him. All it takes to escape our own prison, is a simple reliance upon Him. He will make all things beautiful in His time, and it was His time for her complete healing as she entered the rest she so desperately needed from the difficulties of this earthly life. And now? She is more alive than she ever could be, here.

Continuing my journey here, this is where you'll find me...here, in Mary's World.

But First, Coffee

After 26 hours of sleep, with only a possible collective 2 hours of semi-alertness, I am finally fully awake. I think. It is now 11:10 PM, on a Saturday night.

I had arisen early this Saturday morning with full intentions of getting my study cleared of all non-essentials, once and for all. It was going to take most, if not all, of the day.

But first, breakfast...and coffee.

It wasn't long after, that I knew not much was going to transpire in the way of productiveness on this beautiful day. My body was dragging, my head pounding, my throat aching, my energy lacking. Back to bed I should go. The study could wait. Again...

WHY??? Why am I so lack luster? Why can't I seem to get my energy level back up? Is this the way it's going to be in quarantine? Oh no...you are wrong! I have tried to push myself. I have tried "making" myself just "dig in and get busy". My body rebels. So, it's back to bed I go...

What you just read was typed out 3 days ago. I have no idea what was happening, but I had not felt on top of my game, so-to-speak, for a couple of weeks. At first, I thought, "Ummmm...do I have COVID-19? But, my wiser self came through and realized since there was no fever present, it most likely was just the results of mental concern over being mandated to close the salon (for SIX weeks), and the fact it was now pollen season...with curtains of green falling all around our house, our cars, the back porch, EVERYWHERE!

I am feeling much better today. Still dealing with a bit of allergy issues, but have energy, at last!!! There is still a little work I need to do in the study, but most things have been put where they belong (in the study, at least). So much needs to be tackled while I have this time away from the salon. I could talk about the closets in this house. But I won't. Ugh!!! They are next on my list. When I feel like it. Mentally, feel like it. Have you ever known there are things waiting to be addressed, but you just don't have the fortitude to address them? That's me, at the moment.

I have wanted to sit at my computer, for months, now. I'll walk by the study, glance in, and say, "I'll get to you eventually." Just for eventually to never come. Now that eventually seems to have shown itself, I'm not really sure why I am taking this valuable time to just sit and type out random thoughts. But I'm loving it...

As I glance out the window, only the US flag, perched on the front wall of our porch, is moving. Whipping around, as if in battle. The Spring flowers are showing their beauty, the grass is greening up, and all is still. Everything is still. Eerily still. Few are actually going to work these days. Most are sticking close to home, hoping to avoid the fearless COVID-19 virus that seems to have blanketed our nation, along with all the tree pollen. Only this virus is unseen, unlike the lime green pollen. It's creepy. It's dangerous. It will attach itself to you without you even realizing it. And then it begins to choke you, until you can barely breath. How does one loosen the grip of an unseen enemy?

God gives wisdom to those who ask. I do believe our nation, divided as it may be, is praying. Asking God for His wisdom on how to fight this. Our light at the end of the tunnel? That would be our scientists, whom God has given the ability, the desire, the intellect, to find a path of safety. And eventually destroy this unseen virus with antidotes, with immunization, with dependance upon the only One who cures our diseases.

Where can one find hope in all the uncertain foreseeable future? Watch closely, as neighbors begin to walk past your house, while staying 6 feet apart, but walking in sync with each other. Listen closely, as the birds sing their forever songs, filling the atmosphere with beauty. Breathe in deeply the scents of Spring that linger long after you go inside. Taste the flavor of home cooked meals, after they've sizzled on the grill, or in the oven. Feel the gentle breezes, as they play with your hair and wrap your skin in soothing touches. Revel in the laughter of your children, as they play around your feet, begging you to join in.

As I sit here, considering all the beauty of the world, I am still, and forever will be, curious. WHY is there never any toilet paper, paper towels, or Kleenex to be found on ANY stores shelves???!!! Ugh! Where's my coffee?

Staying hopeful, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

My Therapist

"...for such is the kingdom of heaven." ~Matthew 19:14

Our 3 year old granddaughter, Reagan, shows me the kingdom of heaven, on a daily basis. Well, the days I am given with her, at least. And I'm pretty sure her parents have noticed this as well. I'm really not surprised. We raised 2 children of our own, and many were the days I felt God speak to me, using their little voices. I always knew He was telling me He understands and "hey...here's how that works if you want a great outcome."

Toddlers are really perceptive little beings. I think it's because they are still experiencing memories of where they came from (and here is where I may lose a few of you).

"Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you." ~Jeremiah 1:5  Before we were in our mother's womb! True, He was speaking to Jeremiah, one who was predestined to be a prophet to the nations. Yet, I so totally believe that even though we are not all prophets, we all were known before the foundation of the world became reality. So...we came from Him, in a much deeper reality. And at some point we will all return to Him. Some to give an account, others to enter into their rest. Okaaayyyy...getting off on a rabbit trail.

A few days ago, Reagan and I were playing with plastic Easter egg shells. She loves dinosaurs and was trying to force a really small one into one of the eggs, as a "surprise" for Grams. She was focused. She was determined. And here is what I noticed. She encourages herself.

"Come on, Reagan...you can do this!" she said. Wow! 3 Years old. Innocence at its peak. She believes in herself. Please, God...help us not damage that belief!!! On another day, while kicking a ball out in our front yard, the wind kept whipping it to the left of where I was aiming for it to go (toward her) so she might give a return kick. She just stopped everything, came over to me, placed her little hand on my arm and said, "Don't give up, Grams. You can do this." WHAT?! Sooooo much wisdom coming from this little person.

By-the-way. The kingdom of heaven is not a physical place. What?! Romans 14:17 tells us that the kingdom of heaven is not a place where one eats and drinks, but is a spiritual realm over which God reigns as King, or the fulfillment on Earth of God's will. That being, righteousness (right living), peace (calmness the world doesn't understand), and joy (an abiding state of being), while living on this planet. "I am not asking you to take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one". ~John 17:15

As I ponder years gone by, I can see areas where I stopped trusting. Stopped believing in myself as an overcomer, and began to let situations define me. As the years flew past, sometimes raging as they swept by, I stopped listening to the nurturing spirit God placed within me. The "I can do anything," spirit that was a part of who I was. It soon became a fight, or flight, thing for me. And then a, "just put one foot in front of the other," thing. Then a feeling of being much like a cork, just bobbing along, out in the vastness of an engulfing sea. I began to put aside the place of strength and swapped it for whisperings of ineffectiveness. Of unimportance. I really took a wrong turn and followed the path that was overgrown with despair, sadness, alone feelings, and self centeredness. All the while knowing this would not turn out good. It was much like being focused on healthy eating, then deciding to throw it all out the window and begin eating things that would eventually destroy your health. Knowing there was no possible good outcome.

And then Reagan shows up on the scene. What an amazing gift God has given, not just to me, but to all who have the honor of being where she is. I'm listening again. I'm hearing the still, small voice, coming over loud and clear, coming straight from my little therapist. 

"You can do this!" "Don't give up!" 

 


Praying this mighty warrior spirit of Reagan's remains active throughout her life, and here I'll remain...in Mary's World.

A Child Shall Lead Them

Recently (within the last couple of weeks), our forward thinking granddaughter began interacting with the times I speak aloud to God. Especially at nap time. Since it appears this girl is going to be a tenacious problem solver, she rarely is in the mood to take 5, or in nap time lingo, 60-120. So even prayer time can become long, as she attempts to solve the problems of nap time.

Auntie Lindsey stopped by to play

On one such occasion, after going through the rituals of book reading, dancing to music as stars and moon danced along on the ceiling, and asking Grams to "be" one (or another) toy she plays with, it was past time to lay down and quiet ourselves. Easier said than done...

She needed to "tell me something", or "I need a hug", or "I love you...hold me", or "I not ready." Some days she just starts talking about anything and everything. I'm sure there's a story she's trying to lay out for me, or maybe it's yet another ploy to keep those big, beautiful blue eyes of hers, open. On that day, I caved. There was just too much cuteness happening, and I found myself laughing uncontrollably (inside...as my body shook). She felt it, and began laughing, and laughing, and laughing. I figured I had just eliminated nap time, so in the spirit of "I need to win this game", I lifted myself off the floor where I knelt beside her bed. Stood up, and lifted her as tiny arms flew around my neck and strong legs wrapped around my waist. She was there to stay. At least for a bit. We talked. We laughed. We made up stuff that only the other world knows. I'm pretty sure there was laughter happening in Heaven that particular day as the angles watched a little girl giving so much joy to one who used to be a little girl. A very long time ago.

But...it was time to seek instruction from a higher power. "God," I began. "What would you suggest I do with this treasure you have placed in my arms? How would you have me relax her enough to get her quieted and ready for sweet dreams?" On the heels of my prayer, her little voice reached out as her head tilted backward, with eyes looking upward. As she smiled at the ceiling, she said, "God, tell her to rub my legs. For a long time." And then she giggled. She is all of 2 years old.

Reasoning with Momma

That was a couple of weeks ago. NOW, she prays to Walter. Walter is one of her special Beat Bugs characters that is in the form of a soft plush toy she takes to bed with her. Always. Until just recently. That's another story.

Why she is calling upon the name of Walter is anybody's guess. I just say, "I pray to God. Not Walter." She then changes her prayer, and poor Walter has to take a back seat to God. She loves praying, however. I rarely have to remind her of who to pray for, anymore. She includes anyone she has ever come into contact with. I'm pretty sure Olivia (the little girl she met at Jump Street two days ago), will be in her next line of requests. It will be interesting to hear how she prays for Olivia. And, she never forgets to ask God to bless each family member at work, and usually ends her prayers with "I love you."

My prayer is that she never loses that child-like love for people. Even when she doesn't understand what is happening in her world, that she chooses to forgive. That we adults never squelch the pure, innocent spirit, that resides within her. That, like her mother, we always address her with a calmness...instead of yelling, thinking that is the only way to get her attention.

Until next time, here you will find me, listening for instructions from a child (or her mother)...here, in Mary's World.

P.S. I love my day job.