Inspiring

Loving me

I have learned something about myself.
Most people may have the same problem.
I am a lifelong sufferer of not loving myself.
For many reasons I have never felt worthy of true love.
Lately, I have been getting in touch with the reasons.
Many have validity and many don’t.
I have taken these things to my God.
I have come to peace with them.
And I have felt God’s loving arms around me.
And He says he loves me.
And now I can say I love me too.
I hope I can love me more.

Three-stepping

As many of you know, I have been in an intensive 12 step study.
My class has been specifically for codependence.
Through this class and working the 12 steps, I have personally experienced God’s healing hand.
I wish everyone could feel the peace and power that I have.
It has been hard work, but worth every step and every tear.

I wanted to share the first three steps in abbreviation.

1-I can’t do this anymore.
2- God can.
3- I think I will let Him.

I have learned that I will be “three-stepping” for the rest of my life. It can be a one step occurrence, but in that one step, we figure out that we can hand ourselves over to God’s care. And when we do it, it feels so good that we want to keep doing it. This simple concept actually works. It works miracles.
LG asked me last week how I had become the zen master. He wanted to know what I had done with his wife. I am living in a state of peace. And that’s not like me. Not like me at all.
How did I do it? I let God do it for me! For the first time in my life, I learned how to hand my whole self over. The 12 steps taught me how to get past myself. I literally had to take myself out as the boundary between God and me. Taking out the unhealthy Alice gave God the power to emerge a whole new creature. My new creature knows how to trust. And she places her trust in God. Because why place my trust in anything else? God is the one who is all powerful. Before I thought I could pretend to be Him; I tried to control the universe. And all I was doing was getting in God’s way.

I can’t believe my mouth. It is constantly saying things like this:

God’s got my back.
God knows what’s best.
God can deal with that.
God won’t let me suffer anything that isn’t absolutely necessary.
God loves me.
God will bless me.

And I believe all of these things with all my heart. Because God showed me how to trust.

So when you see a US coin, and it has a simple little message in it. “In God we trust.” Know that those four words really do hold all power to your happiness.
You probably think that you already trust God. I sure didn’t think that I wasn’t trusting God adequately. At 21, I turned my whole life over to be a full-time missionary. Hadn’t I got married to who He told me to marry? I had kids way earlier than I wanted to because He told me to. I kept the commandments to the best of my ability. I went to church every Sunday. I paid a full tithe. I prayed and studied scripture.
But it was all mechanical. And I was a mess. Because when the mortgage wasn’t going to get paid, I fretted. When the kids fought, I felt like a failure. When I couldn’t really be there for people like I thought I should, I couldn’t deal with it. When people were unkind to me, I fell apart. When I didn’t get my way, I would be angry.
And now, you can slap me in my face, and I will praise my God for giving me a face and you a hand. And I will know that if you walk away from me forever I can stand on my own two feet because God will hold them in place.
And that is the power of three stepping. In God I trust. And you just can’t believe how good God really is. He wants to hold me and comfort me and make me happy. He doesn’t want to tell me what I am doing wrong. He wants me to know how everything He created in me, was by His hand and for His purposes.
I have learned this concept of trusting in the Lord my whole life. It had specific relativity in 1994 when I met my husband while we were both missionaries, yet he had a girlfriend waiting for him at home. I knew he was my husband yet there was nothing I could do but keep serving my mission and hope for the best. I couldn’t even talk to LG about it because missionaries don’t date. I read this message over and over. You would think I would have gotten the hang of trusting then, but I didn’t completely.
It wasn’t until I went back to the little girl Alice and convinced her that trusting was the right thing to do, that I could give my whole self over. Somehow the little girl Alice who had been disappointed or neglected or let down wouldn’t let the grown up Alice let go.
But the little girl Alice and her 37 year old counterpart have finally come together because of God’s power. And the only way I could make it happen was by letting God do it for me.
Can you tell I am in a really good place right now?
Trusting is phenomenal. And I just learned how to spell that word this morning. It took me 15 minutes of searching online. Phenomenal is a great way to feel.
Trust = phenomenal.
If you aren’t feeling phenomenal, then ask yourself what is keeping you from trusting? And go back to that time and place and tell yourself to trust in God. He’s got your back. Really.

Happy Birthday Jesus Christ

Thanks to my bloggy friend Sheila for this share.
It brought tears to my eyes and greater love to my heart.
There is something special about
this child’s narration to the greatest story of all mankind.

I love MY Jesus.
He is all mine.
And He is yours.
He is the Savior of all mankind.
Whether they accept it individually or not.

He condescended from the realms on high,
to be born in a stable.
And this year,
His lowly beginnings
have been a fervant reminder
that God wants me to know
that things don’t matter.

Only one thing is needful,
and that is Jesus Christ.
He is the way, the truth, and the life.

And I love the time of year when
people treat each other with greater kindness.
It’s the kind of birthday present we all can enjoy.
And that is so like Jesus.
He never asks something of us
that won’t make us happier.

Christmas Pageants

Every Christmas I try to read
with my children.
It is one of my all time favorite books.
Of course it consists of two of my most favorite things:
laughter and the Savior of the world.
I have the book that my Aunt Shirley
gifted to my family one year.
I treasure it.
My Aunt Shirley loves literature like I do.
I want to grow up to be like her one day.
She writes better than me.
I am of the opinion that Christmas Pageants
should only be given by children or professionals.
A few years ago they had LG dress up like a wise man
and I just thought it was pure mockery.
Especially since they had him dressed in the costume
that was obviously meant for an African.
He was one big white African King.
Well, anyhow, somebody forwarded me an e-mail
with a funny little Christmas pageant tale.
It showcases WHY exactly children are the ones to give any pageant.
THE CHRISTMAS PAGEANT
My husband and I had been happily
married (most of the time)
for five years
but hadn’t been blessed with a baby.

I decided to do some serious
praying and promised God
that if he would give us a
child,
I would be a perfect mother,
love it with all my heart
and raise it with His word
as my guide.

God answered my prayer s
and blessed us with a son.

The next year God blessed us
with another son.

The following year,
He blessed us with
yet another son.

The year after that we
were blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we’d
been blessed right into poverty.
We now had four children,
and the oldest was only
four years old.

I learned never to ask God
for anything unless I meant it
As a minister once told me,
“If you pray for rain,
make sure you carry an umbrella.”

I began reading a few verses
of the Bible to the children
each day as they lay in their cribs.

I was off to a good start.
God had entrusted me
with four children a nd
I didn’t want to disappoint Him.

I tried to be patient the day
the children smashed
two dozen eggs on
the kitchen floor searching
for baby chicks.

I tried to be understanding…

when they started a hotel for
homeless frogs in the spare bedroom,
although it took me nearly two hours
to catch all twenty-three frogs
.

When my daughter poured
ketchup all over herself and
rolled up in a blanket to see
how it felt to be a hot dog,
I tried to see the humor
rather than the mess.

In spite of changing over
twenty-five thousand diapers,
never eating a hot meal
and never sleeping for more
than thirty minutes at a time,
I still thank God daily for my children.

While I couldn’t keep my promise
to be a perfect mother –
I didn’t even come close…
I did keep my promise
to raise them in the Word of God.

I knew I was missing the mark
just a little when I told
my daughter we were going
to church to worship God,
and she wanted to bring
a bar of soap along to
“wash up” Jesus, too.

Something was lost
in the translation when
I explained that
God gave us everlasting life,
and my son thought it was
generous of God to give
us his “last wife.”

My proudest moment came
during the children’s
Christmas pageant.

My daughter was playing Mary,
two of my sons were shepherds
and my youngest son was a wise man.
This was their moment to shine.

My five-year-old shepherd
had practiced his line,
“We found the babe wrapped
in swaddling clothes.”

But he was nervous and said,
“The baby was wrapped
in wrinkled clothes.”

My four-year-old “Mary” said,
“That’s not ‘wrinkled clothes,’ silly.

That’s dirty, rotten clothes.”

A wrestling match broke out
between Mary and the shepherd
and was stopped by an angel,
who bent her halo and lost
her left wing.

I slouched a little lower
in my seat when Mary
dropped the doll representing
Baby Jesus, and it bounced
down the aisle crying,
“Mama-mama.”

Mary grabbed the doll,
wrapped it back up
and held it tightly as
the wise men arrived.

My other son stepped forward
wearing a bathrobe
and a paper crown,
knelt at the manger
and announced,
“We are the three wise men,
and we are bringing gifts
of gold,
common sense
and fur.”

The congregation
dissolved into laughter,
and the pageant
got a standing ovation.

“I’ve never enjoyed a Christmas
program as much as this one,”
laughed the pastor ,
wiping tears from his eyes

“For the rest of my life,
I’ll never hear the
Christmas story without
thinking of
gold, common sense
and fur.”

“My children are my pride
and my joy and my greatest
blessing,” I said as I dug
through my purse for an aspirin..


Yesterday at church
It was also a heartwarming tale.
which supports my idea of
children being the best actors for a pageant.

I cried as Wally the innkeeper
felt compassion and interceded with
“Wait, you can have my room.”

This made me ponder on what I am willing to give.
Sometimes I don’t even think I am smart enough
to give up my own room;
even when I have promised to give everything.

I will end this Christmas post with
my favorite
Christmas poem.

In the Bleak Midwinter – Christina Rosetti 1872.

In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.


Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:

In the bleak mid-winter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty,
Jesus Christ.


Enough for Him, whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A breastful of milk
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels

Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.

Angels and archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air,

But only His mother
In her maiden bliss,
Worshiped the Beloved
With a kiss.


What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

I hope that I can give Him my heart.
My whole heart.
Every day.
And be like Him.
More selfless.

I know
that
just how I enjoy
unexpected outcomes from
funny Christmas pageants,
He accepts
my best attempts at worship.
No matter how
unorthodox.
Or how
far from
perfection
they are.

Because the imperfect kind
are often the best
and most meaningful.

I’m thankful for

frozen pies

frozen rolls
a turkey small enough to fit in my crockpot
redbox codes for FIVE free redboxes
(yes, we will probably watch all five in one day)
a family who is happy to spend time all by ourselves
a fridge full of food
a good book or the fourth good book in four days
friends who are smart and kind and thoughtful
(even when just an hour before doing something extremely thoughtful
they swore they were never thoughtful)
a singing baby in footed jammies and curls
(I always wanted ONE daughter with curly hair)
a place to live, no matter how humble
coupons
good weather
a working washer and dryer
cragislist – I made $20 today
good good kids (the best)
a husband I love
faith
peace
hope
grace
love
and
did I mention frozen pies?
and Sister Schubert rolls?

Stuck

This morning while trying to fold laundry
the baby was out of sight
for a few minutes.
She began hollering.
I ran to the rescue.
She had climbed onto the kitchen table.
My last post makes this story even funnier.
This morning someone had left the maple syrup
in the middle of the table.
Of course that is Caroline’s spot.
I assume she had climbed up to claim it back.
In her 16 month old mind
I guess she decided to take that syrup out.
Out of the bottle to be exact.
The table had a healthy layer of syrup
across it’s whole surface.
And of course Caroline
had it all over herself too.
She was hollering because she didn’t know
how to get out of the mess.
If she moved, she would stick in place.
I scooped her up and put her in the bathtub.
Clothes, shoes and all.
I’m experienced like that.
We got the job done.
Caroline was stick free.
The clothes were in the dirty laundry pile.
And the shoes were washed out.
The table was also scrubbed
to shine.
Now that Carline is down for a nap,
I’ve had a minute to reflect
on my relatively unproductive day.
About how this little incident
parallels my life right now.
I feel stuck in the middle
of a lot of sticky goo.
No matter where I choose to move to
or even if I choose to sit,
it’s still not fun.
And I want to holler out for help.
I wish someone would scoop
me up and throw me in the bath.
And then clean up all the messes.
And then I remember that I am 37 years old
in three days.
And no longer 16 months old.
And I have to find my own way
out of messes.
Even if I don’t like syrup
and would have never
spread it across my living space.
I need an
Aunt Jamima size miracle.
And I am sure that God will deliver.
Because I am his 16 month old
who cries out of help.
Even when I am 36 and 362 days.

Infinite Love

Even if they don’t seem loveable,
one of God’s greatest miracles
is the love he has for each of us.
He even loves the
rich and famous.
(The Real Housewives
are a whole different kind of star)
I think that has got to be hard to do.
To love everyone.
To know them intimately.
To see their good
even when they often act bad.
The next time I hear about Lindsay Lohan going to rehab,
I am going to choose not to judge,
but to remember that God loves her.
And then I am going to force myself
to realize that
he loves me too.
Even when I do the same stupid thing
for the millionth time.

Death Cannot Quench Nancy Boyer

I would like to share a sacred experience. I hope that I am not casting my pearls before swine. After reading this experience after I first posted it on facebook, one friend said that I had heard with my spiritual ears, (as it is referred to in the scriptures) and I agree. But, even though we are discouraged from sharing too sacred of experiences, I feel compelled to share this experience. Someday perhaps, when it is my time to go, it will provide some comfort for my loved ones.


Nancy Boyer and her husband, LeGrande, are permanent fixtures in my husband’s life and through marriage became my extended family too. So, on hearing of Nancy’s passing, last week, I was totally and completely overcome with despair. It was close to bedtime, and so I told myself that just as soon as I was ready for bed, I would kneel in prayer. I tried to keep focusing on the task at hand, but I kept getting this urgency to pray. I finally succumbed to the urgency I felt and made my knees hit the floor in prayer and supplication. I then had a very sacred experience. It was truly an out of body experience.


I had been bawling and when I knelt to pray I totally surrendered to the despair of losing Nancy. I love her so much. She was one of few people in this world that I felt took the time to truly understand me and love me. Nancy was a person who had a mighty ability to love. Everyone knew how much she cared about them. So, as I started talking to God about Nancy my bawling turned to incoherent sobs and shaking that got increasingly more violent. I tried spitting out my request for Nancy’s husband, children, and grandchildren to be comforted, but I could not make the words sound out loud. I felt relief knowing that God could hear my silent prayer.


All of the sudden, out of the middle of nowhere this crazy conversation from a few years ago came flooding back to memory. A long forgotten conversation between Nancy and I made way for an awesome calm. As I was remembering, I came to the realization that my body was completely still and there was no longer even a trace of despair or crying. It was as if God himself placed his hand on my shoulders so that I could hear what needed to be heard. I was completely focused on this conversation from years ago that had occurred shortly after the passing of another friend.


I had confided in Nancy that I would often try to strike up a deal with my husband that if he died before me, he would find a way to send me a message that I was on the right path to join him. I am certain that I am on the right path, but I am also afraid of the unknown and it would be nice to have some reassurance of my place in the next world and that someone I know and love would be there to help me when the time came. I embarrassingly admitted to Nancy about my fear of death. Nancy had a way of getting all kinds of stuff out of people. (I think this is one of the reasons that I loved her so….we both revere honesty, the giving and receiving of it.) I knew she wouldn’t laugh at my confession. In fact, looking back there was only one natural thing for Nancy to do. She said that sounded like a great idea and that when she died, if there was any way she could send me a message to know about the other side, she would like to play along.


As soon as my mind finished replaying the conversation, word for word, I knew in my heart that my good friend Nancy was somehow fulfilling her promise. It was not in any way that I had expected but it was so like Nancy to make sure she didn’t leave anything unfinished. It was an absolutely amazing experience and will always be remembered by me as one of my most sacred. From complete shakes and loud bawling to total and complete stillness and peace, there was a reason for this remembrance of something that otherwise would have been completely forgotten.


I looked up, completely marveling, knowing somehow she was right there. By looking up, I felt like I was somehow acknowledging that I had received her message. It was as if I was saying, “NANCY, WE DID IT. You came through big time!” As soon as the whole minute passed for this experience from start to finish, I could literally hear Nancy’s perfect robust laugh (one of my favorites in the world). Unlike the memory, it wasn’t in my head that I heard the laugh, but I literally physically heard her laugh, as if she were right there. I then knew that her laugh was her way of telling me back, “ALICE, WE DID IT..the impossible.” There really is a way to communicate through the veil.(Of course Nancy would be the one to deliver such a message – she was an accomplished and prolific genealogist, who I am sure experienced some of these moments of her own) I know Nancy came to me. I felt of her urgency in saying good-bye, as if she was rushing around to see everyone she knew one last time. But, somehow because of that promise to a scared young woman, I had gotten a special treatment. Another thing so like Nancy, to seek out the one who needed it most. I immediately felt the urgency of Nancy being ushered on to where she was going. Her laugh was such that her back was turning.


I cannot even tell you how I am left feeling about the significance of this experience to me. I have always feared death in a terrible way. But, I will never fear it again. Because I know that I am doing the right thing, as she surely told me so. And if anyone wants to question my belief in the next life, I will tell them that they are going to have to take it up with her. Because I think somehow she will find a way to sneak them a message too. And as Nancy’s children will attest to, when Nancy is right, she is right…no discussion allowed.

Apology

I just got done listening to
Taylor Swift’s new song

her apology to
Taylor Lautner.
How could anyone
ever be mean to Taylor Lautner?
What a little hottie.
Anyhow,
I am in a reflective mood right now.
And I am pondering
apologies.
I think Taylor’s song is brilliant.
I think about the times in my life
when I have hurt other people,
and I wish I could go back
and do it differently.
If I can’t go back and do it differently,
I wish that I could
communicate my regret
and sorrow
more masterfully.
I also think about the times
when I have been hurt.
And how I wish everyone
were good
with giving
a sincere apology.
Why is it so hard to say sorry?
I do it all the time.
Seriously.
But, anyhow,
this song
got me thinking even deeper.
Taylor’s lyrics
talk about how she can tell
that whoever she is singing to
is not loving with the same intensity
when she sees him the next time.
He is “holding back”,
I think that’s how she put it.
“That in the back of his mind
he has that night in December
playing on replay.”
That is how I feel so often.
I don’t want to be hurt.
So, I hold back,
The next time I am
given the opportunity to love.
When listening to this song,
I felt what seemed to be sincere regret
in the lyrics.
But, do people really change?
If I were on the receiving end
of the original hurt
would I be able to make myself trust again?
Trust that they really changed?
What about if the hurt is repeated,
Over and over again?
I like to think that I would trust.
That I would tell you it’s o.k.
But what if you aren’t trustworthy?
How can I tell that you’ve really changed?
And how can I make myself
trust someone
who repeatedly hurts me?
I can either stop being hurt,
which seems would require me
to love with less intensity.
Or the other person
could quit hurting me.
But is that even possible?
For a human
to never disappoint?
Isn’t that what life is all about?
Learning to love
in spite of human flaws?
Learning to trust
the people who have
the most power to hurt?
I don’t know.
All I do know is that
I wanna love with all my heart.
And I don’t want to be hurt.
That’s it.
And I’m not gonna stop
until I have the answers.
I know THE answer
is
Jesus Christ.
But, I hope I can
invite His power
into my life.
Every time
I want to love.
Especially when I have been hurt.
I have been reading a book
entitled
Boundaries
by
Dr’s Henry Could and John Townsend
I was amazed at this quote
and it’s relevance
to what I had already written.
Emotional distance is a temporary boundary to give your heart the space it needs to be safe; it is never a permanent way of living. People who have been in abusive relationships need to find a safe place to begin to “thaw out” emotionally. Sometimes in abusive marriages the abused spouse needs to keep emotional distance until the absusive partner begins to face his or her problems and become trustworthy.
You should not continue to set yourself up for hurt and disappointment. If you have been in an abusive relationship, you should wait until it is safe and until real patterns of change have been demonstrated before you go back. Many people are too quick to trust someone in the name of forgiveness and not make sure that the other is producing “fruit in keeping with repentance” (Luke 3:8) To continue to open yourself up emotionally to an abusive or addicted person without seeing true change is foolish. Forgive, but guard your heart until you see sustained change.