Some lies are easy to spot... Some not so much

What if you belonged to a cult?  What if in the course of a day you were kept under powerful hot lights?  What if at the end of the day you were taken out to a table set outside in the cool, fresh beautiful early evening of the Summer?  What if you hadn't had anything to drink?  What if you hadn't had anything to eat?  What if there was drink and food on the table?  What if the words that were spoken were these,  "We have set a table before you in the presence of your enemies, your cup now overflows, in the light you had nothing to drink and nothing to eat but once you were in darkness you were fed, given something for your thirst.  In the darkness you found life and in the light you were harmed, the light is your enemy, the darkness your friend."


Creepy but think for a moment if you a child, what would you believe?


As an adult you can look at that scenario and think a whole range of things but you can easily see the lies.


What about this one?


There is a tub of boiling hot water.  A tub of water that is freezing cold.  A tub of luke warm water.  If you were made to go into one which one would you pick?  Which one would be the most preferable?  Boiling hot water?  Freezing cold water?  Luke warm water?  Would you come into agreement with the lies spoken over you that your life would neither been hot or cold but always luke warm?  If it meant not being put back into the freezing cold water or the boiling hot water?  If it meant you could go into the room temperature water?  Would you receive that lie into your life?



Taking every thought captive.. this journey of days that are passing.  Revisiting places and thought patterns and belief systems... so didn't foresee all that these days would entail.


What lies do you believe?


Is your worth far above rubies?


All you altogether beautiful without spot or blemish?


Are you wonderfully and fearfully made?  Does your soul know it well?


Does God really never leave nor ever forsake?


He is always with you?  Has He counted the hairs upon your head?  Are you crowned in loving kindness?


Are the words of peers, loved ones, bosses more true than the words that the Lord would speak over you?


Are you beloved?  Do you really ravish the heart of God?  Are you His majestic one in whom His delight dwells?  Is your worth and value beyond anything you could comprehend and unaffected by anything you do?  Are you loved?



Looking into the crazy awful actions of occult like behavior it is easy to spot the lies...  What about looking in the mirror?  What about watching your daily life?  What about following your patterns of thought?  Are the lies as easy to see... are they any less important to confront?

That which we have in common.... that which we don't

I do a weekly morning devotional on Tuesday mornings at 9:30am (est).  It was a project I wanted to undertake to teach how God interacts with us through the senses.  How if we see, hear, taste, touch, smell in the natural what does it look like to engage in such in the spirit?  I planned and scheduled out the sessions.  Only to hit week after week  feeling led to walk a different path, then that which was planned.  I have gotten used to it, at least I thought I had.


Until today.


Finishing up the month of April, the sense of touch, I had planned out a path I wanted to walk down upon and yet I began to feel pulled once again in a totally different direction.



Maybe it was the questions that started to pop up, or maybe it was the heart of God that I was feeling... but the doors flung wide open and so did any and every place/story within my heart.  The questions kept flowing and I wanted to honor those asking them.  My heart aching to convey the love and tenderness of God to a group of people so thoroughly hungry to know Him as He truly is.



The questions were pure and beautiful and it filled my heart with a sense of awe and wonder and respect for the people that God calls sons and daughters.  I kept feeling the Lord pulling me further in and further up into His heart.  Then there was this place I stepped into talking about places of my life, of my marriage, of being in ministry, of journeying with God, of struggle, of doubt, of fear, of needing time to learn that the ways of God are truly the ways of God and that He really can be trusted.


And the tears flowed and the questions flowed all the more and the comments and the gratitude that someone .. anyone .. would share and speak of such things.


And while the level of disclosure upon a recorded meeting was beyond anything I thought  I would normally do, I felt the leading of God absolutely clearly. And those lines get crossed more and more often these days. What is my life?  What are the things that would scream shame on me?


I don't want there to be those things any longer...


There is no more shame...


I find more and more upon this journey that we all have similar fears, we all have similar questions, we all have similar needs, hopes, hungers....  There are places in all of us that seem too dark and twisty to ever share, and so we don't...  Thoughts we have, things we have done, assured of the fact that if anyone ever knew we would be disqualified.  Disqualified from what I ask?  It is those very places that make us the most touchable and the most real.  In sharing our journey people get glimpses and can take the parts they need to help them navigate their roads.


Sure there are those moments out of the place where the flow of spirit leads and I pause and think .. I just shared what? And it was really recorded?  Then I think... Great!  Really! That is what  I think.  My life is what it is.. and it has been what it has been. I can't change yesterday.  I can't change the fact that there are aspects of my story that I wish didn't exist.  But they don't get to dictate or determine my present or my future.  They are no longer places of shame or embarrassment.


When someone asked a question that I knew would be wrong or presumptuous to answer, I stole a line from a good friend... and said the answers to such questions don't come easily and anyone who would step into that place lightly should be run away from...  While we do have things in common, the emotions, the need, the fears... that which formed us is unique to each of us as is our finger print.


I walk fiercely towards freedom but delicately with the hearts of His sons and daughters....  His treasures... handling each other with great care...

The vision of the CEO standing in the window is stalking me.....

I must admit once again that this journey of 100 days of taking thoughts captive is going to places I never EVER anticipated.  Sitting on my loveseat in our new home in Blacksburg, I am finding a ton of things to do instead of writing this.  Facebook, twitter, pacing...  checking the mail, arranging pillows...  thinking about the heat that is on and the house that is warming up...


All to avoid this one picture that won't leave me alone.


It is of this man, this man in a three piece suit, he is in a high rise building, standing by a window in a huge corner office.  I can see his face as he looks out the window, I can see into his office, I can see all around...


This picture arrived in a vision and it will not let go of me.  Yesterday our pastor stepped into this place at the end of the sermon, and spoke numerous times out over the congregation in a very spirit led way, it was upon him to speak out and remind the sons and daughters of  God that God was not ashamed of them.


The words hit and began to ricochet and haven't stopped.  This afternoon as Jim and I drove I began to share about this vision and pastor's words and how they were swirling together.  It wasn't the word embarrassed,  it wasn't the word humiliated, it was the word "ashamed."  And between the picture and the word I felt the barreling down of the Spirit upon my person to unlock things I had put very far away from the forefront of my mind.


I thought of my friend Rick Sizemore, and his teachings on strongholds, and how he defines it as something that cuts you off from the Lord's presence, provision and truth.  I thought to myself, yup this is definitely that.
And I have known that writing this would take some effort.  Even as my fingers find the keys to type out the words I feel the stinging of tears upon my face.


I bought into the notion that my life and story don't give me the entrance into much middle of the road living in Christian circles.  Which really has been alright with me.  I operate very comfortably within the circles I do and until this man staring out of his window appeared on the scene, I felt very called to the broken and marginalized.  What I realize is I still do... But God is shifting my picture, my mindset, to match His!


Yesterday, in the afternoon,  the Lord started to ask me the question of who was my neighbor, and what extra mile would I walk down?  Today, He kept up His finger pointing into my heart, and asked me what I thought being all things to all people meant.  And truly the more he nudged the more I wanted to slug Him.


It felt like I did on  the day that my friend, Rick, wanted me to say "dad" in a prayer and not call my father, Brian.  I wanted to slug my friend at that moment too.  And it took quite a while for me to step into the places that he felt I needed to go... I did venture there however.  Today has so very much to do with that, with Brian's world, with the world I left when I ran away and headed to Amish country.



While I will write more of the specifics later this is what I would say here,  no matter how disclosing you think I might be, no matter how transparent... there are places that still have quite a few cobwebs upon them.


Those places are not easy to touch.


Those places cause me to find a million and one distractions so as to not have to touch them, look at them or think upon them... This vision of this CEO is one of them.  For me it represents the likeness of Nineveh.  It is the last place I want to go... Give me the broken, the marginalized, the sick, the hurting... but....



Yesterday God and I took the stance of Jacob and the Angel and the wrestling mat was the ground of my heart.  He kept reminding me of the days when Jim was a programmer in Manhattan and we had a live in nanny.  He kept reminding me of lunches with friends, movies in the afternoon alone or with friends, shopping trips.  He kept reminding me of all the things I did with or without the children.  Could I buy more, entertain myself more, keep myself as busy as I wanted in whatever capacity of busy I wanted? Absolutely. And life was good.


I could even step into spirituality and love Jesus and ministry but without much of a pull or demand upon me that I didn't want or take up.  Felt great giving money in large quantities to ministries, felt good to be helping people....



Except....


Amidst all the spending of money and the entertainment of foolish things (not all entertainment is foolish but when you are capable of covering up everything with all sorts of entertainment at some point it becomes foolish... or in Solomon's words meaningless.)


I couldn't buy the cutest most new "it" toy enough, I couldn't take my kids to the greatest new place enough, couldn't spend enough, couldn't give enough...  all of the activity and busyness was crippling and suffocating. Maybe you think, I'd love to have that suffocation.  I get that.  I get that because I have lived the other side of that coin too.  When there wasn't enough and struggling to make ends meet... what I wouldn't do to have those problems.  Right?!?!


Except it is all the same problem... Just different pictures...  same coin.. different side...


Except the point of all of it is truly that it doesn't matter whether you are that CEO in the window or whatever your station in life might be... you can be at the pinnacle of success and be perishing or you can be at what the world would declare as down and out and be flourishing.  The standards of the world and the dictates of its culture are not what dictates and determines truth.


I was telling someone today that God is not partial.  That He does not have favorites.  I was explaining how I get that because we have six children and while they are all different human beings I love them all intensely.   No one more or less than the other.  


The vision of this CEO is messing with me.. mostly because I would judge that that culture aren't the broken, the marginalized, the hurting, the lonely, the lost, the afraid....  but that isn't Christ's story or perspective of them.


I have found success can actually be one of the loneliest places one can ever walk.  Are friends really your friends?  Do people really care about you?  What would happen if everything was gone?  Who would still be there.....


Great question!  Almost 7 years ago I found out the answer to some of those questions.  When upon a decision that my husband knew was the right one that he needed to make, our world changed quite dramatically.  We went from highly favored to toxic waste and black listed in a moment.  Not for sin mind you....  But even if it had been....  most of  those that a moment before would have considered themselves our best friends were no where to be seen.


Whether it be the lessons of seeing all, prince or pauper,  favored one or the one nobody knows, within each  one.. within each place comes the call to authentically find needs met in Christ and Christ alone.  We all are a mess in need of grace.  We all use whatever is at our disposal to try and cover it up...


Well, I want to be done covering up the need and trying to not feel exposed.


What if the extra mile is to clean up real nicely and go into Saks Fifth Avenue and walk around and pray for those that are there?  Is that the gospel?  I have stood recently within similar places and seen the need upon a woman's face and been broken because it reminded me of the culture I escaped from....  


What if "being all things to all people,"  means I don't get to talk about the things I see in the spirit, or sitting in a corner talking about the deeper things of people's hearts but it means putting on a smile and caring about someone who is asking about their shoes, or what color of beige to paint their living room?


Can I step into whatever world the Lord asks and reflect His image?


Can I walk whatever road He places my feet on?


Can I curb what I would say and speak the language and the culture of the ones He puts in front of me?


It is what Jim and I teach in the class, Receiving and Communicating Revelation, except I NEVER thought these would be the miles He would ask me to walk upon .... But taking all thoughts captive and letting Him walk into the places of my mind and heart and change things up is what these days are about....


So.....  life is truly looking very differently these days... But I like His thoughts and His ways and I am learning.... Taking all thoughts captive isn't at all what I anticipated but it is more goodness than I know what to do with...


OK....  the picture is still there but so is the grace....  Taking the plunge... whatever that may mean.... wherever that may lead.

Chapters 1 and 2.....

Back in December a friend would encourage me to start writing my story as fiction.  And within the month of February I would write a little over 100,000 words of a story based upon my life.....  It was quite the experience and the journey since then has been amazing.


I actually haven't revisited those pages since the beginning of March... but today started to look at them again....


I grew up in such a dissociative state.  I would be told by the psychiatrist at Carrier that I was one of the most dissociative people she had ever met.  I wanted to write something that would maybe open the doors for others to begin to see some things from their own lives, to come to terms with some things and to begin to open their hearts and mouths about the things that have trampled upon their own lives...


Here are the first two chapters....

Chapter One...

Exhaustion saturated every fabric of her being she couldn't grasp a hold of anything, not one thing. She had gotten into the crisp, cool, orange, paisley sheets and slid down into them feeling herself slip away.

These feelings were all too common, not that she understood them, but they lent themselves to her, filling her as if they were concrete, leaving her suffocated.

The window reverberated with the sounds of the falling rain splashing back up against the glass, it echoed back with the wind blaring its path through the branches of the tree planted right alongside the frame. The darkness of the evening's storm was swirling around the household. All, that gives off light during the passage of the night hours, was covered by black ominous clouds.

The small bedroom with wooden floors, and her white furniture... It was her world. Her things filled drawers, closets, as well as a built in shelving unit that ran along side the wall opposite from the doorway. Her clothes neatly folded and perfectly put away, every sock having a pair, every thing having a place where it belonged.

The dolls from every nation her aunt and uncle had traveled to lined her shelves. The mime dolls her father had brought her home from Paris and the other places he had been joined them.

The posters of mime's along with Escher prints covered her walls.

Only the ones that couldn't be seen from the hallway though.

Nothing was on the walls that could be seen from the hallways.

The walls that could be seen from outside her room were perfect.

Perfectly painted.

Perfectly displayed.

Perfect.

Perfect like the tightest hospital corners that always were fitted at the end of her bed, where the sheets and the mattress met.

She would allow her eyes to linger upon Escher's staircases.

They were the closest visualization of her life.

Stairs that led to nowhere.

Staircases up.

Staircases down.

Staircases ending midair with no clear path.

There was not any other picture in the whole world more perfect than that.

She felt her breathing raise her chest and lower it, raise her chest and lower it, raise her chest and lower it...

As the pattern of breathing continued a trance like state enveloped her, she felt herself lost in some sort of far away dazed condition.

Wondering beyond anything what would happen if she just gave into this sensation. Would she drift further and further away until she was gone. Where would she be then? Where would she go? What would happen to her?

Where would she be if she drifted further and further away until she was gone?

Until she was untouchable. (She was sadly never untouchable.)

Until she was maybe so comatose that there would be nothing really left to her.

It was beautiful in the most absurd way.

It was as if she was floating yet as leadened down as deep wet concrete.

It was like her head was empty yet full of concentrated thoughtlessness.

No movement.

No full breath.

Everything shallow.

Hallow.

Jennifer wondered if she laid there long enough would she disappear.

Even if her body remained physically could she disappear so that she could never get back. The heaviness upon her chest remained; in school or out of school. She walked hallways and corridors blank, vacant, as a vapor... nothingness filled her.

She listened to the rain hitting the glass with such force, she listened to the howling of the winds, she listened and she drifted into the veiled darkness of the night.

Unyielding pain filled every pore unless she lingered into that nothingness. So to the nothingness she gravitated towards all the time.

She was letting go...

She could feel darkness surrounding her,

enveloping her..

welcoming her.

As if the darkest of wardens stood beckoning for her to grab a hold of his boney skeleton like hand, to travel with him far far away from the realities of life, her life, all life. He stood commanding the storm that raged outside her window, he stood commanding the storm that raged within her, he stood beckoning, commanding, imprisoning.

She was letting go of the fight to stay present, to stay conscious; except time and time again right as she began to feel the empowering place of mummification something wooed her away from departing fully.

Nothing tangible. Nothing that felt as present as the dark warden but something, something real even if she couldn't put her finger on it.

No one actually ever walked in and sat upon her bed and gently touched her flesh, no one ever called her name with joyous affection in their tones, as they called out to her, no one was ever present, no one was ever near, no one was ever around and yet...

And yet, something wooed her back.

Something stood in the way of her leaving.

It was like a huge flat sheet of steel interrupted her spiral towards oblivion, her journey towards grasping the hand of the warden of darkness and death-shade. Something broke off the pull. Something broke off the pull and she bounded back towards the current moment.

Shaken and exhausted.

Jennifer just laid in between the sheets.

They were cool.

They were inviting.

They were always clean.

While she was now back to being aware of her surroundings she wasn't fully back.

Desperate.

Alone and desperate.

Jennifer turned her head into the pillow and just wept and wept and sobbed.

So utterly alone.

Sure there was a mother, father, cousin and grandmother... but she might as well have lived on the streets.

Maybe she would even have been better off.

She thought of how five people could live in a house for so long and yet basically just orbit around one another never fully connecting. She thought about the perfect white walls and the unspotted white carpet that laid throughout most of the house, this house, that to call home would give it too much of a name.

It had exacted more from her than she could truly give, certainly more than she was ever able to say..... ever willing to say.

Jennifer just laid upon her bed breathing ever so shallow.

Haunted by the moments of terror and not even knowing what they all were.

Jennifer got up and headed to the bathroom to splash some cold water upon her face trying to shake away from the pits of despair. Weights and chains bound her legs and feet and each step felt heavy and painful to take.

Jennifer's feet hit the small lime green carpet that laid right by her bedside, her hands pushed her up off of the mattress, her legs walked her out of her room and into the bathroom.

Light cleared away the darkness that had so kept her when she flipped on the switch. Jennifer turned the facet on placing her hands under the cold water that automatically started pouring forth.

Jennifer's eyes lifted to the mirror, to her reflection. What was she looking for? What was she looking at? The light on, the water running, her hands feeling the sensations of the cold liquid passing through her fingers, her eyes beholding herself, her eyes going void as all the sensations filled her senses to overload.

Instead of going back to her bedroom she wandered into her grandmother's where there was an extra television.

Jennifer sat on her grandmother's bed. The bed spread was thin, she hated the way the back side of it felt against the flesh of her foot, or her body. She abhorred it. Something about the material just thoroughly kept her bothered. The afghan that Faye had knitted was laying perfectly folded at the end of the bed. Jennifer had never not known the realities of this room.

The old wood furniture, the bed frames, the pictures of a wedding that hung over the bed, the mirrors... the two mirrors. Jennifer must have spent hours looking into those mirrors. Jennifer spent hours looking at all the pictures. There were pictures of relatives she had never met, most were dead but some had just been lucky enough to put space between themselves and Faye.

Her grandmother's television was on and the show, Our House, was running in the background as Jennifer watched herself again within a mirror.

“What is so wrong with me?”

That question lingered in the air, in Jennifer's heart, in Jennifer's mind, within Jennifer's whole person all the time.

All the time.

Jennifer looked at her face, her hair, her eyes, her mouth.... Her dark dark black hair, her plain brown eyes, her pale complexion, her freckles, what attribute pushed her over the line that made her so completely unacceptable.

She wasn't beautiful but was she really that ugly?

Her heart began to fail her as she pushed her body off of the bed, heading towards the television to shut it off, the thoughts that wouldn't release Jennifer's head and heart filled them again and again, over and over with the question of what was so wrong with her.

She couldn't keep things together.

She couldn't function fully.

She just went back and sat again in her bedroom, on her bed and cried and cried and cried.

….................................................






Chapter Two...






The bus jolted Jennifer back to reality. The noise of chitter chatter filled the air, the noise of the vehicle itself filled her ears, the cushioned gray back of the seat in front of her caught her body as the jolt threw her up against it.



She had gotten lost in thoughts as they passed the section of road that had the woods off to the right. Jennifer leaned her head onto the cold glass pane, her head bumping along with the rhythmic shaking of the vehicle that was bringing her to school.






Her eyes looked at the woods off to the right.






Her thoughts drifted to Grizzly Adam's simplistic rural living. Her mind's natural process kicking into playacting scenarios in her head. This story line or that story line all infringing their weight and better reality upon her person.






Anything... anything would have to be better than the continual droning on of her life.






Head lost in the clouds or somewhere without earthly destinations or geography, Jennifer rode in silence, lost in her thoughts.. hidden from the world and realities all seemed to know but her. The bus finally pulled into the school's driveway and around the loop with the flag pole that blazed forth the American way. Red, White and Blue... all shining forth the dreams of better lives.






As if mechanically flowing with the day after day routine all got up, gathered their stuff, exited the yellow transport and headed in all various directions.






Jennifer lost in her head knew where her feet would take her, not really even dreading each step that would bring her further into her day, just not connecting with them either.






More of a puppet or life by proxy.






Step here.






Breathe.






Linger here.






Entering into the school. Jennifer looked up at the tiled mosaic that covered the ceiling and ran down both sides of the entrance way. A mural of happy children amidst a bright blue cloudless sky entering a place of learning just like what she was currently doing.






All their faces looked so happy, all their clothes so perfect, all wearing back packs and carrying lunch sacks, some of the boys had baseball caps on their heads, some of the girls had their hair pulled back in a pony tail or pig tails, but all of them... all of them looked happy.



Jennifer noticed the one tile off to the middle of the right side wall that had cracked. She noticed how the girl who had been painted at that spot had half of her face missing so that you couldn't see her, not fully.



Jennifer's eyes would always find that one spot.






That one tile amidst thousands of tiles that had a crack in it, that lacked paint and wasn't a full picture in one corner amidst an other wise perfect mural. That spot, Jennifer thought, that spot was her, a crack in an otherwise perfect picture.






Jennifer stood there just staring at the tile.






She started walking again.






Being passed by and passing by bodies pressing in here and there as all were making their way through doors towards hallways towards classrooms towards chairs and desks, towards the day.






This day would be broken up by an assembly.






Again the routine.



So well trained.



Pavlov's dogs in mass quantities.



Line up at the door.






Stand in line.






Be quiet.






Hands to sides.






Mouths were quiet and shut.






Hands were glued flat.






Legs walked bodies down the hallway into the gymnasium.






Class after class filtered in.






Child after child was told to sit down.






Legs crossed.



Mouths shut.



Hands to oneself.



Eyes forward.






Jennifer sat alongside classmates.






Names, faces.. nothing more... spending most of her day with these people year after year never making any real or true connection.






It felt so surreal to Jennifer as she played the role of obedient complacent child.






Somewhere deep within she mocked this charade. These people. She mocked yet hungered to enter into their reality all the same. Jennifer's mind drifted back to when attendance was being taken, names were being called out, voices declaring that they indeed were present, Jennifer wondered what would happen if she actually spoke up and said, “Heck no. Not present.”






Parents would be called, possibly. But would saying anything different change anything even if her parents were called?






Realizing the answer was most definitely not Jennifer answered, “present,” in response to her name being called. Maybe she was indeed invisible and if she didn't say she was present her teacher wouldn't see her, again would it matter. Would it matter at all?



Something nagged at her as outcast.



Something tore at her insides screaming she didn't belong.



She knew that all too well.



Even so her eyes searched the place for somewhere to land. Something to attach to that would make sense. Coming up to the surface of life instead of just peering through eye sockets, Jennifer was hungry for connection to whatever degree could touch that which was resident within her.



There were the typical announcements as always again being told what to do, how to be the good boys and girls and represent the school, their teachers, themselves well.



The principal went on about the production they were about to watch, as the lights darkened Jennifer crunched her little body over her crissed crossed applesauce legs watching as ballet dancers took the stage.



Some might have noticed the lighting. Some might have noticed the most graceful of movements as women jumped and were lifted up into the air. Some might have noticed the beauty of costumes and faces made up ever so perfectly.



Jennifer noticed the lead dancer's penis.



In the tightest of pants, Jennifer's eyes had landed on the bulging part between the legs of the man now leaping and twirling around and around the stage. Jennifer's mouth would form the words to her peer sitting next to her making mention of the unmentionable parts.



Her little friend, Kimberly, was wearing this new princess line dress which was blue and green and drew in very narrow to her waist. Jennifer's eyes had looked upon the beautiful wider skirt at the bottom and the ruffles that dressed up the neckline, the laces that tied around her throat that were a bright yellow as standing in contrast to the rest of the dress.



Jennifer looked at her friend upon whose ears had heard what she said but her eyes didn't register the same picture. Kimberly had been enraptured by princesses being thrown into the air and caught and the amazing flashing rainbow colored lights.



Kimberly had gotten lost into little girl dreams of princesses and princes and all that happily ever after endings proclaim. Kimberly hadn't even noticed that which had caught Jennifer's attention, nor did Kimberly fully understand.



But the teacher behind them understood and understood perfectly, she too had heard Jennifer's proclamation. Horrified her whole face contorted, as she bore her hand down into Jennifer's shoulder.



Jennifer wished she could vanish into the varnish of the shiny gymnasium flooring which she was sitting criss crossed upon.



Chastisement and shame barreled down upon the child who had dared point out that the male dancer had bulging parts between his legs. Jennifer hadn't followed the mandated set of approved of behavior. Threats were made and horrified astonishment was shown that such language would come out of the mouth of a 4^th grader.



Jennifer didn't think it then but as she would grow older and remember back upon the ludicrous scene she would think to herself that she sadly knew more about those bulging parts between men's legs then that fourth grade teacher whose ignorance and horror had kept her blind to a child in need.



All that scenario taught Jennifer was that her lips sealed was the best possible posture. That liken unto crazy glue, an adhesive was being placed upon Jennifer's mouth that would ride out into the next decade, silence would dictate to her heart to lay low.. lay very very low. Much to the credit of the adversaries of Jennifer's small existence the child was learning silence in the most horrific and horrifying of ways.



That was what school really taught and reinforced into Jennifer's world. Day after day being swallowed by the abyss at home, by the abyss at school.. out in the hallways, the highways, the byways...



Jennifer was learning all too well the land of self preservation.



It was forming her insides, it was laying construction to mighty and strong foundations within a life, whose cracks and lack of substance would be made evident to all at the embarrassment of its prey, the life that would try to rest upon it.



Memories haunted Jennifer following her as if a cruel prank being played out year after year, from the teacher in 5^th grade who had come up with a nickname for everyone, everyone in the class had a cool private nickname between them and the teacher.



Everyone except Jennifer.



He would just look at her and draw a blank.



Each time.



Each time.



There were names for everyone but her.



There was Amar the star. That one lingered and haunted. That one exalted another continually over her, the depth that Jennifer would plummet to over the exclusion from these ceremonious absurdities would rack her very being to the core.



There was the time she had cussed. She was just pissed. Something had transpired in the neighborhood and she had told the person to fuck off. Well on the bus the following morning threats were being made that parents would be told and that Jennifer was going to be exposed for having used such fowl language, she wanted to tell the girl she could fuck off again, but now she was afraid.



Jennifer had run into the tiled entrance, she had run through hallways, down a few stairs to the corridor where the payphone was, she put a few coins in the slot but still had to place the collect call to home. Her mother had answered the phone and lies after lies poured out of a panic stricken heart.



“Mom, Elise is mad at me and wants to get me into trouble. She is going to tell you I said bad words. But I didn't mom. I really didn't.”



Panic and dread and horror filled Jennifer's heart as she stammered on and on, trying to catch her breath as well as answer questions her mother was fielding back towards her, such as why would Elise do that, and what had really happened.



Jennifer's mind racing a million miles a minute struggling to come up with anything that sounded reasonable but nothing really did and she would probably be shown up for lying.



But what did she care.



What did she really care?



Jennifer's head felt so heavy. Jennifer felt exhausted as she raced to her third grade classroom before the bell rang.



Bells ringing.



Schedules dictating.



Year after year spent being herded like cattle into and out of classrooms, hallways, stair wells... faces changing or not changing but nothing really changing. The droning on and on and on through mandated corridors of human existence never once stopping to access whether the next foot step should even be taken.



Eyes ceased to plead for help as Jennifer's heart learned very quickly that it didn't know how to function like the other children's, eyes ceased to plead to be really seen but a will to survive was being forged.



….................................................

Coming full circle... "I respect your authority."

The phone rang.  I saw the 803 number.  I picked up.  I knew the voice.  My stomach lurched as my heart stopped and my throat tightened.  "Mrs. Driscoll, how are you today?"  It was the principal at Caspian's school.  So many thoughts went through my head but the one that would come out would included something like, "why don't you tell me."


Six months have passed since the moments Caspian was pushed down and told,"sit down Jew."  We walked through the process and we, as a family, have moved onward.  Even though three of our children still attend that school, there hasn't been much interaction with the administration at all.  Personally I think we just all found our corners and let time move us away from the horrible events of the Fall.


So the words or something very close to them, Why don't you tell me, would be followed up with the explanation for the phone call.   Caspian's teacher had seen him smacking the back of the neck of another student.  The principal was explaining how the boys had been doing this and a teacher had seen Caspian do it and they needed to talk to him.


The way we had left it with the administration of the school was that they couldn't talk to Caspian without a parent present.  Too many things had happened to allow my heart the confidence that they would walk rightly as it pertained to him.  Except.....


They needed to talk to him and this phone call was inviting me in so that I could be there when they did so...


One of the criticisms I faced last fall was that boys were just being boys and I blew the whole thing up to a proportion it should have never been....  There are things that just don't need to be revisited here but back then that was not the case.  Boys were not being "just boys"  the words and actions of October 10th were horrific.


Except this moment wasn't.  It wasn't horrific.  In my heart I knew it was just boys being boys.  And I knew in my heart where it was that I needed to go.. I could feel the promptings of all I know to be true.


And this is basically what I said... That if it was indeed as he said, and that there were no words or other actions that had transpired.  That if this was truly the whole story, then Caspian had done wrong and I wanted them to know that I didn't have to come in, that I trusted their authority in this case and the words kept pouring out of my mouth... Words of blessing and honor and in all that was being said I just knew beyond anything that it was what needed to be said in the moment.  Speaking that I  trusted their authority in the moment and would support whatever discipline needed to come to our son.


As I would get off the phone I was shaken by the goodness of God.  I realized in more and more ways that all that transpired in the fall was sad and horrible and had very little redemptive moments.  But here .. in this moment I could speak honor and value.



I have learned more than I ever anticipated from October 10th.  I learned I was stronger and more capable than I thought but more than anything I have learned that in the face of hatred, in the face of ignorance the only answer that ever truly works is one covered in mercy and grace and love and respect.


Our fight is never and should never be against one another but a coming alongside each other for the optimum good of all.   More than anything I wanted moments of redemption to cover the anger and hatred that flowed into our lives this past Fall and on Friday morning stepping into a place of  blessing the principal's authority it felt like it had arrived.

You know parts of the story.... I was the daughter of a CIO

I totally get that there are huge parts of my story that some can not relate to in the degree to which they were walked out... No, it isn't often that someone runs away to Amish country, ends up on a psych ward and has a visitation with Jesus and gets saved.  I get that...


For weeks now the Lord has been having me think more and more about those types of people that I grew up alongside.


I understand that my heart is going to always head towards the marginalized.


I am more likely to be found sitting in the corner talking or praying with someone then on a golf course.  I don't necessarily do "casual" real well at all and most topics of conversation that I thrive within are the ones where people are sharing about their hearts and lives in a real way, or we are talking about the Kingdom of God.


 I don't mean to be "religious" in this and I find myself interested in things that others are interested in and can flow with conversation but you'll always find  me in my element when it is a heart to heart with someone who just wants to know more about being a son or daughter of God.


The area of life I don't talk about a lot is the culture I grew up within.


 I'm not talking about the crazy abuse here or all that transpired.  I "grew up" in an American household in the suburbs.  I grew up as the youngest of two, had both parents, a grandmother and a dog.  We had a yard.  We took trips into whichever city we lived by whether it be Boston or Manhattan.  I grew up going to Broadway, going skiing, riding horses.  I grew up taking honor and AP level classes.  I started a chapter of Amnesty International as a senior in high school and did musical theater, I was even a peer counselor.


I would be nineteen before I would ever say anything to anyone.  I would only speak then because on the night before I was leaving the University I had been asked to leave (story for another day)  someone asked me why I behaved the way I did.  Why was I so careless with life?  Why did I act so out of control without thought to consequences?


I looked the part.  I lived the life.  Robotically, day in and day out, month in and month out, year in and year out...  silent.  Never reaching out for help.


I once had this conversation with a friend of mine not too long ago.  We were talking about our lives and she began to share about the abuse she had endured as a child.  I listened to her story.  She then got to the part where she spoke that as a child she finally told on her family member that was sexually abusing her,  I'll never forget hearing that part of her story.  It sent shock waves down and through me.  I would have never dared say anything about my life growing up to anyone.


We were that All American family.  Parents, 2 point whatever kids, the dog and the mother-in-law.  We went shopping at Copley Plaza in Boston.  I ate at some of the best restaurants in NYC.  The story goes that at the age of 4 I could tell the taxi cab driver how to get to Bloomingdales.


These last few weeks I keep feeling drawn to the people I grew up around.  The children of lawyers, doctors, business executives... those that we joined at the pool clubs we belonged to, those we went to school with, those we lived in the same neighborhoods as...  I keep seeing a picture of this man, this executive, standing at a window in an office pretty high up.  He is who everyone wants to be, except he doesn't want to be himself....


I've met people like that.  People in ministry, people in industry, people all around... you know the people you look at at Starbucks or Target or wherever and think they are good-looking, they look like they've got stuff going for them, wish I had their life......  It's because you don't really know their life.


I have loved the movie, The Ultimate Gift.  It presents a rich young man, a trust fund baby, whose grandfather dies.  In order to inherit he has to walk through some interesting events.  One of which shows him he really doesn't have any friends.  All those that loved him as the rich young tycoon all disappear when he finds himself in need.  It is a really good movie and I've enjoyed watching it.    It doesn't have to be some corner by a window at the end of a hall in a psych hospital, one can be just as alone and tormented in the middle of a crowd of those that would be the most fervent supporters.


What are people left with truly when all is said and done and they are sitting alone, whether it be in an apartment on 5th avenue or a cottage on the side of a mountain, or everywhere in between?


There are those who have a lot they can cover up their emotions with... golf trips to the world's best courses, expensive dinners and trips, fun ways to keep busy, shopping, multitudes of ways to entertain yourself and half a dozen friends... but what about at night when you are sipping your brandy, your glass of red wine....  what about those early morning hours where you know that no one in their right mind would want to be you because you truly don't want to be you anymore....


There's an image to maintain.  What's going to happen to the family?  That question haunted me for almost two decades.  At my expense I kept secrets and pushed my life forward until I couldn't any longer...  It was exhausting.  I see people doing that all the time.  And I get the picture of Jesus aching over Jerusalem, longing to gather them into His arms...


Whether Jesus was healing the leper or talking to the centurion, He met people where they were at and He always always made a difference.  Did I really need to end up in a psych hospital somewhere before I would begin opening my mouth?  I don't know.  I don't get to know the part of the story that didn't get played out.


I just write this today because I keep feeling in the depths of me to reach out beyond those I naturally lean towards.  I lived among an image bearing competitive crowd of All Americans.  They didn't know my story.  They didn't know what I had lived through or what I went home to, they knew what I let them and I lived an image until I couldn't. And it truly suffocated the life out of me and nearly killed me multiple times.


I once had this other blog that I had entitled, Awoken and Seen.  I let the address go, not truly understanding Go Daddy nor the blogging world.  I am not technological savvy.   But I liked that title.  "Awoken and Seen."


I feel like that describes my life now... I woke up and decided it was time to open my mouth and let my life be seen.  All I can do now is to encourage you to do the same. I wish I had spoken up sooner.  I wish that there had been someone I would have risked with and shared.  None of us can ever go back.  My passion now is to be that for others, whether it is through encouragement to open your heart and speak about the things that are causing you to crumble inside, or to actually be that person for you....  I just could never say it enough.


The only image we are called to bear is that which we were created to do... His....  No other image is worth the cost.

He is with us always.... Really? He is with us always... What then? He is with us always... ALWAYS!

This morning I woke up with the word, presence, upon my heart. It was an intense moment. Full of questions. Full of hunger. Full of desire.

I woke up this morning with pictures of people I know and faces of friends floating through my memory. I woke up with pictures of events traveling through my heart and filling it with life and appreciation. I woke up this morning with the presence of the Lord filling the room.

“Lo I am with you always, even until the end of the age...”

“When two or three of you are gathered, there I am in your midst.”

I will never leave you... I will never forsake you

I woke up this morning hungry for the presence of God. And began my litany of questions to our Father.

“What does it look like to have you with me ALWAYS? ”

“What does it mean?” “What does it look like?” “How can I more readily participate in this reality?” You, O Lord, are not conjured up like some cheap magician's trick or some emotional charade put upon a crowd by a charletin. You are that You are. And your promises speak forth that you will never leave, you will never forsake, you are with us always, you are in our midst.

So that reality, the Lord God of the Universe in the midst of His people, is a staggering one to fathom.

BUT what does IT look like? Is it the picture of the baby Jesus in Bethlehem? The Christ on the cross? The Lord standing in front of an angry mob wanting to stone a girl? The Father parting the waters of the Red Sea? The presence of Jesus, the reality of His life turned water into wine, cleansed the leper, cast out demons, healed the sick, proclaimed hope to those in need and the list of what it looks like goes on and on and on...

How then do I live my life?

What does the reality of Christ never leaving and never forsaking, of being with us always look like and how does that then revolutionize the way I live?

Besides pondering the reality of presence, I woke up this morning with pictures of people I love filling out my memories. Gratitude arose and life coursed through my frame. I understood the connection that God was making. I am richer for being in the company of friends. I am richer when encircled with individuals that shine forth in their lives and actions the embodiment of Christ. IN those moments He is with me, in those moments He surrounds me … Not just in those moments but they certainly provide a place, an orientation …

But what about those that don't have the wealth of community to surround them? What about those who aren't surrounded by the richness of loved ones? What then?

A comment was just made to me by a recent acquaintance, that they didn't have a family like I did, and they didn't have friends like I did and their conclusion was that I couldn't understand where it was that their life had brought them.

My thoughts in that moment weren't what I thought they would have been, I would have thought I would share about having run away from everything I had ever known, trying to escape it all, to land my life into a psych hospital only to be encountered by a visitation of Christ.

I wanted to say I did understand. I wanted to say I understood more than she realized.

But in those moments what welled up inside of me was the reality that He hadn't left me alone, that He hadn't abandoned me, that He hadn't forsaken me.. that He had pursued me all the days of my life and He had laid out a path for me and that His presence was always wooing me towards Himself and His love... He was always calling out to me...

While grateful for all He has done and acknowledging it with awe and reverence, I paused and a solemn moment filled out my being. In those moments when there wasn't family, when there weren't friends, when no one on the face of the earth even knew where I was, when I was alone wandering the cold wintery night of a February decades ago ... so very long ago, so very alone... I wasn't alone. I wasn't alone when the hands of men would rip through my frame and wrought their harm, I wasn't alone when harm befell my days, I wasn't alone when alcohol had so saturated my being that charcoal was being administrated, I wasn't ever alone... I wasn't alone when I aborted our child, I wasn't alone when I swallowed a bottle of pills, I wasn't alone when I drove off, I wasn't alone when the past screamed in with rage and blew apart my world... I WASN'T ever … EVER alone...

When I made my bed in sheol He was there... When I was supposedly hidden in darkness the darkness was as light to Him...

He is with the child in the garbage heap, He is with the drunkard waking up on a park bench, He is with the beaten and the downtrodden... He is with the CEO on the top of the sky rise.. He is with the suburban mother weighed down by babies and car pools, and He is with the orphaned child whose eyes have seen too much war...

He is with me as I go into a Target, He is with me as I fix dinner, He is with me as I sleep and when I arise, He is with me when I do whatever I do wherever I do it...

THE REALITY TRULY IS, LO I AM WITH YOU ….. ALWAYS! Are we looking? Do we want Him to always be with us? How would our lives look if we acknowledged the fact that His promise is He is with us....

Yes, could I say that I am surrounded by people who show me Christ in more ways then I could ever recount to them, Could I ever fully adequately express my gratitude both to God and each individual for loving me so well.... Do I realize how thoroughly I am surrounded by the grace of Heaven? Do we? Do we comprehend the incredible reality that Christ is with us wherever we go? That I am always overshadowed by a God who is passionate for me? That I am never left alone?

The “whys” and “the how come thens” surface upon the heart and the accusations can easily flow... He could do this and He could do that and why didn't He and if He can't here then He is impotent. Accusations against the faithfulness of the living God course through the human soul and rage war at understanding...

This isn't the place for theology and I am not the one to answer those questions and the answers I would give you wouldn't suffice.... I have gone to town with the Lord... I have sat and sat and sat and placed before Him these questions.. form your own and walk intimately with Him, who never leaves and never forsakes and who is with you even until the end of the age...

Lord when at thirteen I thought I was pregnant with someone's child who I shouldn't have ever encountered sexually where were you?

Lord when beaten and bruised and left for dead where were you?

Lord when miscarriage after miscarriage flowed through my family where were you?

Lord when death touched our family where were you?

Lord when men believed they could do anything and did do anything upon my person where were you?

Lord when hungry and cold and afraid where were you?

I have the answers to those questions... I do.... It is well with my soul... I want you to discover it to be well with yours...  

12 words that formed the most amazing prayer... How they birth compassion, How they birth eyes like Christ, How they birth the heart of the redeemed...

As the journey of taking every thought captive continues, I am already off any path I thought this 100 days would look like. Already more profound to me, and already taking me places in which I can tangibly see a difference in perspective and I did not anticipate that happening so soon.  In all  honesty I pictured days of taking lies I have believed and memorizing scripture and working diligently to step into a place where more of me was thinking and acting like Him.


Except it has been more liken to that Aladdin song, A whole new world upon a magic carpet ride!


 Today I was struck by some events that have unfolded.  Moments where I was given the opportunity to see humanity for what it is.  That statement sounds so grandiose and I do apologize for that.    I guess what I mean to say is that I had a moment where I was empowered to see others in such a way as with a depth of the Father's heart that I haven't necessarily stepped into before.


It filled my heart with the reality of Heaven's ways and the ways Father see us all, and it saturated my soul and left me kneeling.


As I was in that posture, I heard the Father speak that this moment is full of Christ's last prayer.   "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."  And I am moved even more as my fingers race to type the letters that will form these words.


Whether or not I will be able to convey this which is upon me, I do not know... But I will try...


I remember being incapable of feeling remorse... I remember being incapable of true connection to another human being... I remember pinching the flesh on my right arm to see if it would hurt, to see if I was capable of feeling pain, I remember "not knowing what I was doing."  I am not making excuses for myself.  But I see myself and my past and my sin within the context of those words.


I didn't have much of or even any conscience.  I could do things and not think twice about the harm I was causing, it was all about me.. In those moments I truly didn't understand.  In that prayer, that Christ speaks upon the cross.... I see His understanding of the ways of man.  If I had truly understood that which I was doing I would have stopped.  I do so now. When I know that something I might say is harmful or an action not beneficial, I don't speak and I don't act.  Because I am aware of that which I would say or do and I DON'T want to cause harm or be an avenue of pain.


Within these moments of today a greater capacity for compassion filled my soul.  I am more full of His perspective than I have ever been.  Not because I memorized scripture and took a hold of false beliefs, those ARE great practices... But because He is wooing me to higher ground...

Again whatever is pure


Whatever is lovely


Not seeking my own


Being patient, kind.. Bearing things  believing all things.. hoping for all things...


Setting my mind upon things above is bringing transformation forged in grace not works and the difference is a solidness filling my insides... And I simply don't have the fullness of language to express what this feels like...


I see people differently.. Compassion is more readily able to come by... and it is only day 5.  I really didn't anticipate this journey being one so thoroughly full of grace, I really anticipated more effort needed upon my part... This makes it feel like I am riding upon the wings of eagles and my eyes are open to a perspective I have always wanted to course through my heart and cascade into my very being.


Forgiveness... not knowing what we do ....    To step into 1 Corinthians and be lifted up upon grace and fly as if upon the wings of eagles into the reality of "Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."


IS ASTOUNDING TO ME!!!!


To not be provoked... to not take into account a wrong suffered...  HOW AMAZING IS THAT!!!  Hanging on the cross, betrayed by Judas, left by his followers... watching soldiers cast lots for his clothing... He speaks out that we would be forgiven because we know not what it is that we are truly doing...


OH TO HAVE EYES TO SEE and the capacity to step and walk more and more and more and more like Christ!!!!



I wanted this time to cause me to more thoroughly be like Him.. to see as He sees, to know as He knows... to perceive as He would...  To truly  have the heart of the redeemed of the Lord.

Let the redeemed of the LORD say so, Whom He has redeemed from the hand of the adversary
Psalm 107:2


So today as the prayers of Jesus filled me and the reality of the day unfolded... The Lord would begin to speak to me as I was taking a shower.  He shared His heart of how He wants to redeem all from the hand of the adversary.  He spoke to remember and always hold onto the reality that our warfare is NEVER against flesh and blood.  For all flesh He wants to pour out His spirit upon, that His heart and His affections are for all.. for those that would bring harm, for those that would be harmed.. for the times I bring harm.. for the times I am harmed... His love and His redemption and His capacity to forgive and empower us to forgive and walk in grace and know His ways IS IMMENSE!!!


I feel as if every day I am being renewed.. and then it hits me... RENEWING OF THE MIND... TAKING ALL THOUGHTS CAPTIVE... BECOMING MORE AND MORE AND MORE LIKE HIM...


If this is day 5.... I can't imagine what day 100 is going to be... I have thrown away every road map and every idea that I thought this time was going to be... it has already surpassed my wildest dreams.

Nothing can ever alter the fact that I am beloved.... arriving at the most powerful truth Heaven proclaims

I remember the days of sitting in the chapel at the Carrier Foundation.  The recent and not so recent past screaming in my ears.  Dazed and confused, yet feeling safe behind the locked doors of Elizabeth Hall.


I remember this one night, the evening before a very specific meeting was going to take place.  Extra medication was given to me so that I might be able to sleep and yet sleep was not coming.  One of the nurses took me into the gym and we began to walk and walk around the floor, walking out the pattern of the rectangular room over and over and over again.


There are some things you can't walk away from.  There are some things that while medicine can dull the senses and ease the weight, and taking walks can pass the time, there are some things that seemingly nothing can separate you from.


Whether it is hiding under the covers of a bed or hiding under the beauty of make-up, or the success of position, or the busyness of life or whatever it is... there are things that will come back up and seemingly haunt and grab a hold of and relentlessly scream their lies.


I sit upon my bed tonight with such a sense of feeling safe and content.  I think I sit here in such awe because it has been such a long journey to come to the place where there is a beautiful solid peace inside.  I DO NOT take this place for granted.  I sit, stand, exist in awe because the beauty of this existence is overwhelming and I am overcome with gratitude more often than I know what to do with.


I know my life.. while the Lord has removed my transgressions from me as far as the East is from the West, I know that which my past is full of, I live under no delusion.  I live under no delusion.  I do live under the truth however.. that I no longer live and the life I live in the flesh I live by faith in the son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.. Galations 2:20.    He loved me!  He gave Himself for me!  So that I would not be given over to a spirit of fear but of power, love AND a SOUND MIND!


There are days that while the weight of them no longer reverberates through my body, the remembrances of them serve me well, they no longer accuse or antagonize.. they serve as the ramp through which praise bursts forth... MY REDEEMER LIVES!!!!


It is a place I pray entrance to for all people... a place where the past and the present and the future are held by grace and with the understanding that there is no cause for anxiety because His great care for us is palpable.    I have found a place that nothing but Christ could give me entrance to... not in anything I have done or in anything I will ever do...  setting my identity as beloved... as daughter... as chosen....  It washes over me with a power and authority of Heaven that is striking to me... earth shaking to me... so full of transformative hope and life....


He lifted my head... He commanded dry bones to arise.. He breathed life into me and He set me upon my feet....

No moment of abuse, isolation, torture, rejection, failure, lack, anger, bitterness, hatred, judgement, rebellion... NO moment of success or blessing can change, minimize, increase the passion God has for me.. NOTHING can alter the FACT that I am His daughter... NOTHING can alter the fact that I am beloved. ,


It is powerful to sit in the place of realizing that .. I do not have to perform or do anything for His love, acceptance, blessing.. My children will always be my children as long as they live... they will always look like my husband and I.. they will always bear our image.  They might step into things we wouldn't choose for them but we will always choose THEM.  They ARE ours!!! PERIOD!  My love for them isn't based on that which they do or don't do.. they are acceptable.. they are amazing to me.. they are my favorite human beings...  I get it more now than ever before...  we are His favorite.. just because we all are doesn't make it any less so for any one of us...

These human beings are the best I know.. they are my favorite.. I am passionate over their lives.. with one look of their eyes towards me my heart is ravished.. spending time with them is my favorite time ever spent... if I feel this way over them.. how much greater is the reality of God feeling this way over us...


Arriving at the most powerful truth Heaven proclaims forward... WE ARE BELOVED...

These are my children.. IN WHOM I AM SO VERY WELL PLEASED... NOT because of what they do or don't do... but because they are mine.. they bare my image.. they came forth from me... they are adored.. cherished.. THEY ARE BELOVED!