Control Freak

Getting in the car with my mom I must be prepared for one thing, the possibility she may honk her horn. And I don't mean a little "toot-toot." I mean, lay-on-the-horn, blaring-loud-for-all-to-hear kind of honk. It doesn't end there. Whatever ability she has to demonstrate her displeasure on the outside of the car is only a glimmer compared to her expressions on the inside of the car. And my Mom is a nice person! However, she gets all riled up on the road. Inconsiderate people who pull out in front of her causing her to slam on her brakes. Distracted drivers, talking, or yes, even texting away on their phones. Rushed workers ignorning the lane closure signs to squeeze in at the last possible moment. It infuriates her. When she rides with me she'll identify every moment I should utilize my horn. My neglection of such an opportunity produces much discussion as she'll inform me that I need to let them know what they did so they won't do it again. There's where her hope is. It's not an angry, difficult, short little lady. It's a woman who intends to help people out, highlight the error of their driving, so they can do it better the next time.

My take is different. Number one, I wonder if the person who pulled out in front of me, or cut me off, may be a mother who has a screaming baby in the car, a tired toddler and an argumentative child. Believe me, that causes some distractions and enough stress without being honked at. Or possibly, it's a nurse who lives forty-five minutes from the hospital and got called-in before she had a shower or a trace of make-up on her face. It happens. Secondly, and most importantly for me is, I don't care. I don't care about honking at someone and getting all worked up over them, because I have no relational connection, nor any ounce of influence on them to change anything. If a driver is flat-out rude, they're going to be flat-out rude whether I blast my horn or not. It's just not worth the aggravation to me.

Now don't misunderstand me. I do get worked up. I do get riled to the point of feeling steam come out my ears. Okay, not quite steam, but you get the picture. Flaming mad. Like Anger on Disney's Inside Out or Donald Duck when he's "had it up to here!" (Yes, that's what he sometimes says, although it almost requires a translator to comprehend his lines.)

I tend to get all upset with things I think I have control over. Emphasis given to the word, "think." It's like a quantitative study. I have variables in an experiment. The independent variable is manipulated to produce the dependent variable. Since my lab puppy, sweet little Ruby Sue, is turning one this weekend, let's consider dog food. The type of dog food is an independent variable because it's something I can change (or manipulate), and the results I get are the dependent variables like her weight, her likability to the food, and maybe her coat being more shiny.

If I have no influence on the outcome, I don't get too engaged. It's that whole, "it is what it is" kind of situation; “que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be.”

But let me share with you where I do get hung up. It's again, in those areas I think I have control.

My parents were told, on more than one occassion, during my years of rehabiliation from my burn injury that I may develop an addiction to narcotics. I'll share more about the topic when the book project pieces together, but for now, let me focus on this subject of control. Although I desire to be as out-of-it as possible when I'm recovering from surgeries, I'm quite eager to stop taking the medication when I no longer need it, because I don't feel in control when I'm in a fog. Too much of my childhood was out of my control. As an adult, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for the care I received. Absolutley overwhelmed. I'm living a life today because of the care I received. Nevertheless, I remember as a child wanting control over the situations I had absolutley none.

Memories of being restrained, with my arms braced out to my side, unable to move. Memories of a tube down my throat breathing for me, but occluding my ability to communicate. Screaming for help when those precious nurses were tearing bandages off my raw body. Fighting against amazing physical therapists as they ripped scar tissue to stretch my contractured body.

Yes, I have control issues.

I also have a good, good Father who loves me as I am, but desires me to grow in Him. Just as He provides opportunities to make the impatient patient and the prideful humble; He's given me many opportunities to release control and grow in trust.

A reoccurring theme for 2015 was trust. As I felt challenged in 2014 to rest, 2015 was about trust. Here's a bit of what I journaled toward the end of the year...

As I’ve sought the Lord, as He’s challenged me to trust Him, using situations to strengthen my trust muscle, I can see the control shatter. I needed to be here and He was preparing the time for me. I needed to grow in the quality, in this characteristic.

‘Do you trust God?’ Yes, I’ve always trusted God. However, do I trust God when I have no control, no influence over the outcome, when I have nothing to contribute, or even manipulate?  Not in a bad manipulate-evil-devising way, but in a manipulate as, take it in my own hands and change what it needs, or what I think it needs to be, to form it and mold it on my own. Do I trust God even then?

Oh, how I thought He was teaching me through the writing to trust Him. Oh, how I thought He was teaching me through the speaking to trust Him. Oh, how I thought my obedience to step away from full-time nursing was trusting Him, or being given our website was trusting Him- but, those situations were PREPARING me for the biggest trust exercise the Lord could have set before me….

I know where my desire to control comes from. It's fear. I wanted control when I was little because I was scared. Not much has changed. I still to this day fight fear. The fear is a bit different, but I fight nevertheless. But again, God is so loving and kind towards me. His Word says, "perfect love casts out fear" (I John 4:18). Which means I don't have to be in control. I just need to trust in Him.

Therefore, as you're stepping into your dreams, visions and goals for 2016, be aware of the vision killers we've discussed the last few weeks: feeling overwhelmed, making assumptions, and fear.

Fear has no place. You serve a great God! And the same power that raised Jesus from the grave lives in you (Romans 8:11).  Remember that fact, and exercise that muscle to trust in the face of any fear this year!

Isaiah 30:15 ESV For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, “In returning and REST you shall be saved; in quietness and in TRUST shall be your strength.” But you were unwilling,

This was one of the verses I've stood on, encompassing the Lord's challenge for me to rest in 2014 and to trust in 2015. But unlike the people of Israel, may we be willing.

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Crummy Mom

We had barely departed the experience, the fruition of obedience to God’s calling, when the clouds started rolling, the thunder started rumbling, the lightning hit and the rain poured. Our drive into Boston should have been one of elation and rejoicing, however, we quickly ran into a storm, a storm that started brewing long before we began our trip. No, I’m not speaking of a literal storm. I’m speaking figuratively. I wish we could have pulled under a bridge and wait for it to pass by. I wish we could have stepped into a closet and hid from the winds. Or even better, I wish we could have locked ourselves in our safe room and shut it out entirely. But we all know the storms of life are endured, not avoided. I read several years ago that trees send their roots down deeper due to the storms they withstand. No storms mean a shallow root system. Now I’m no arborist, but I get the illustration, and I don’t want to be shallow or weak, I want to go down deep and be strong. Nevertheless, the storms are unpleasant, unpeaceful, and at times, down right scary.

The storm’s intensity grew when I broke, exposing the darkness that surrounded us. I felt safe, I felt secure, and even more than that, I felt desperate for help. I literally broke, crying uncontrollably and sharing not only my defeat, but pronouncing my shortcomings.

For someone who lives as an open book, it’s imprisoning to hold in my burdens, to retain my brokenness. Burying and hiding are not natural for me. It takes effort. It takes determination. And while I see that sometimes it is necessary, it feels phony. We need a safety net when we are falling. Unfortunately, with the people I would have not wanted to have boundaries with, I should have had boundaries. The integrity and character of our home came under fire. And isn’t that the way the enemy attacks? So sly and creepy, using one attack to generate another.

The point is, if we lay everything out on the table, we’re providing the revelation of our failures. We all have them, and we provide for many more failures when we become parents. If you haven’t failed your children yet, wait, because you will.

You’re probably thinking something like, “Great. So glad I’m reading this today. Nothing like having someone tell me I’m going to fail at the most important role I will ever have!” Or you may be tempted to minimize those failures as you reflect back on your days of raising children. Pause with me please, and join me in asking the Lord to humble us and remove a pride He cannot honor.

Let’s remind ourselves that we all fall short. We are parenting in our humanity. And our humanity is fallen.   John and Stasi Eldredge inform us in their book Captivating, “But Adam fell, as did Eve, and the fathers and mothers most of us had continued the sad story. They did not provide the things our hearts needed in order to become lovely, vulnerable, strong, adventurous women.”

Honestly, it’s a thought that never crossed my mind when I was welcoming my precious children into the world. “I’m going to fail this perfect little person. I’m going to wound their heart.”

I was prepared to give away my heart, but not to wound theirs. Big chunks were removed with every baby born. Jaron’s birth brought about our first NICU experience. The team whisked him away from me on the eve of Christmas Eve. I was discharged the next day and felt my heart in two places, neither of which was inside my chest. I was torn to be home with my sweet little girl and to be with my new precious and sick baby boy. It was just the beginning, just the beginning of my heart existing outside my body no longer secure and protected within myself.

“You cannot be alive very long without being wounded,” the Eldredges write. “Broken hearts cannot long be avoided in this beautiful yet dangerous world we live in.” “This is not Eden. Not even close. We are not living in the world our souls were made for.”

As I was caring for my own Mom recovering from an orthopedic surgery this summer, I gave her medication to manage her pain. Some are big pills, hard to swallow. And some of these words are hard to swallow, but can manage the pain of our wounded hearts. Through her own journey, Stasi Eldredge writes, “Yes, she [her mother] failed me. All mothers fail their children to varying degrees. But she also loved me. That was what was most true.”

Every wave and bump, even the wash outs and pot holes, messages are sent, imperfections are highlighted and wounds are created. We hurt our children and our children hurt us. Ephesians 6:12 tells us where the battle comes from, “For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.”

And as mothers, we battle. In our flesh, in our humanity, in our fallen, imperfect state, we battle.

“Women are called to join in the Greatest Battle of all time- the battle being waged for the hearts of those around us.” -Captivated

As long as I’m breathing I will go to battle for my children to have God’s best in their life. It is raw, it is real, and it is humbling to recognize our imperfections, and to encourage our children to take what we’ve given them as parents and to be better, to make improvements and be better parents for their children. No blame, no bitterness, but better. Humbling ourselves in believing and battling for God’s best.

So why would I write a post to share about being a crummy mom? Because at times, you feel crummy too. In those times, in those dark moments, and in those attacks, don’t allow the enemy to defeat you, even if he’s using people you love in the attack. Filter through. Sift it out before the Lord. Only He truly knows your heart.

I’m walking in steps of obedience to God’s calling. There is no attack that could possibly stop me than one upon my family, one upon my home. So here it is. The storm. Here I am. Not giving up. Battling the attack, because I know God will prevail. His Plan will succeed. Good will come, a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up (Galatians 6:9).

Through this storm I praise Him and I pray He uses it to encourage you.

“But we don’t wait to offer our lives until we have our acts together. We don’t get that luxury. If we did, would anyone ever feel like offering anything? God asks us to be vulnerable. He invites us to share and give in our weaknesses. He wants us to offer the beauty that He has given us even when we are keenly aware that it is not all that we wish it were. He wants us to trust him.”- Captivating

Psalm 34:5

Those who look to Him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed.

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Have you ever struggled with the feeling of not being good enough?  Has someone taken a highlighter to your shortcomings or magnified your failures?

God's design for women includes a longing for intimacy and adventure with Him, to gain an understanding of how He sees each of us, and to develop a closer relationship with Him.

Please join me, along with the women of my community as we rediscover the joy of belonging to God with a heart that is awakened and restored… a heart in full bloom.

Throughout the weekend you will experience teaching sessions, including testimonies, films, guided periods of personal reflection and worship.

This weekend is based on the book Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge

What Is Love?

“Yeah I would fight for you, I'd lie for you, walk the wire for you, yeah I'd die for you. You know it's true, everything I do, oh, I do it for you.” Lyrics like these from the theme song in the 1991 movie Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, are representative of what we see as chivalrous, that honorable, gallant man, the knight, willing to sacrifice his life. It’s what every woman wants. A man, who honors her, respects her and would ultimately die for her.

A love that’s pure is without expectations. A love that’s genuine is without conditions. In our "Fifty Shades of Grey" culture and our skewed definitions of love, we miss out. And this missing out starts early.

The lines are blurred so we don’t even know we’re tiptoeing by them, on them, or possibly even crossing them. We’ve become so desensitized to love, that we don’t guard it, wait for it, or hold it for what is perfect. Our young people toss the word around as if they understand what they’re saying. “I love you.” In a relationship, what does that mean? With the gift giving and receiving, the Instagram posts and captions, and that word….dating. Where are they even going? Nowhere. And we’re not helping them.

We quickly jump in to defining love through another, or by the interactions we have with another. We’ve got it all wrong. Love has to start with us. We’ve got to get down to the base of love, the agape love. How can we love another if we haven’t fully accepted the One love our hearts, minds, and souls were created for?

There is a Man who has died for us. We read about the sacrifice Jesus made for our sins. However, do we take it in? Do we fully absorb what He did? Do we completely soak up the love He poured out when He shed His blood?

Philippians 2:6-8 NLT (emphasis added)

Though He was God, He did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, He gave up His divine privileges; He took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When He appeared in human form, He humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.

A criminal’s death. A criminal’s death is what He endured for you. He endured it for me. If you were the only person to save, He would have endured it for you alone.

A criminal’s death. We’re not talking about an honorable sacrifice. He was mocked. He was ridiculed. He was beaten. He suffered and died, ransomed for you and for me. It was our debt to pay, yet He gave Himself freely.

There we find the foundation of love. If we don’t build our house of love off of that solid establishment, then everything we build is a house of cards. And He wants so much more for us. He wants us to let it be forever….

*I was in the 8th grade, yes the 8th grade when I allowed myself to get caught up in romantic love.  Far before I was ready.  Nothing physical involved at all, but emotionally invested before I was grounded in my identity in Jesus.  I had a relationship with Jesus.  But please, see what I'm saying.  It was my identity in Him, the essence of who I was, that I needed to be solid first.  This song came out a few years later.  I met the group, Avalon, at a Christian Music Artist Convention my vocal coach took me to.  I told them how their song challenged me to redefine love and to guard it as the precious gift it is.  I was sixteen.  A few months later, I began dating Brandon.  It was because of these truths that our relationship took the course we printed on our wedding invitations. "A glance, a smile, became a friendship, grew into love."  I could fully, completely, and SAFELY love him, because my lens of love was through Jesus first.

"Let It Be Forever"

In a world of broken hearts, love is just a word

Used so often, what is means is blurred

People grow so hungry for a love they can believe

And will they find it here in you and me

Oh you know you must be careful

If it's love you're promising

You can never, never, ever speak it lightly

It should cost you everything

If you're gonna call it love

Oh, then let it be forever

Let it be forever

If you're gonna call it love

Oh, then let it be forever

Love has come from God and in this love we share

People see an image of Him there

It can be an invitation that leads to deeper truth

The kind of love they find in me and you

Oh, we can be a witness

Right before their eyes

A living love that's rooted in the very love of Christ

If you're gonna call it love

Oh, then let it be forever

I don't know what this world may think of love

Oh, but let our hearts remain true

To the notion that love goes beyond just emotion

Into faith, into hope, into trust

If you're gonna call it love

Won't you let it be forever

Won't you let it be, let it be

If you're gonna call it love

Won't you let it be forever

~~~

Happy Valentine's Day!

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Fear

We all learn something about fear as we’re growing up. We have unsound fear; like the darkness or the boogieman. We have protective fear; as in looking both ways before crossing a street or keeping our hands away from a hot stove. Fear is something both healthy and unhealthy. My Pastor of seventeen years, Gary Rogers defined fear as, False Evidence Appearing Real. In his article, The (Only) 5 Fears We All Share, Dr. Karl Albrecht offers a definition of fear to be an anxious feeling, caused by our anticipation 
of some imagined event or experience. Merriam-Webster defines the noun as, an unpleasant emotion caused by being aware of danger; a feeling of being afraid; a feeling of respect and wonder for something very powerful.

Let’s think about the descriptive word Merriam-Webster offers, an “unpleasant” emotion. I would say so. My Grandma lived right next door to me when I was growing up. We shared the same driveway. Not too far to walk. Unless it was in the dark! I remember my Mom would hold the door open to watch me walk past our front porch, dart across the driveway where I felt I would be attacked by coyotes (we live in the country, so it seemed to be a rationale fear to me), all the meanwhile Grandma would be standing there waiting for me with her door open. What high maintenance. As badly as I wanted to spend the night with my Grandma, the hop, skip and jump to her house was highly “unpleasant” at night.

We’re familiar with fear. Regardless of psychological research or formal definitions, we understand the feeling of fear.

So what good can come from fear? Scripture tells us the role of fear as one of reverence.

Deuteronomy 13:4 Serve only the Lord your God and fear him alone. Obey his commands, listen to his voice, and cling to him.

Psalm 31:19 How great is the goodness you have stored up for those who fear you. You lavish it on those who come to you for protection, blessing them before the watching world.

Proverbs 1:7 Fear of the Lord is the foundation of true knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and discipline.

And the One whom we stand in reverent fear is the One who holds each and every unpleasant emotion, each and every anxious feeling just as He did for our family this past Saturday evening.

The night started with a 25^th anniversary celebration for my brother and his wife. A party my sister-in-law had worked to prepare food, decorations, music and fun. It was a beautiful evening. Everything was perfect, except for my brother, who seemed winded, was cool to touch; but said he felt hot, going outside for numerous breaks over the course of the party. Signs of him passing out warranted a call for an ambulance and a ride to the hospital.

As he lay on the couch, awaiting paramedics, surrounded by his family and friends, my husband came to pray over him. Holding his hand, I discretely tried to palpate radial pulses, but couldn’t, nor could I get one post tib. My sister-in-law, also a nurse, was quick to give him aspirin, as we all thought we were observing signs of a heart attack. Thankfully, hours of lab work indicated no MI, but monitoring substantiated the need for cardiac ablation to correct his arrhythmias. The procedure was performed Monday. Unfortunately, we heard words like, “severe conductivity disorder” and “pacemaker” in that post-procedure update. Therefore, my brother at 44 years old went in for a pacemaker Tuesday.

Now. Let’s talk about fear. Of course, you’d see how our family would be scared. But let me tell you a bit more of the story. The one parent my brother and I share, died from heart failure less than two weeks before he was to get an Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator. Our Dad’s brother has had similar problems with arrhythmias and so has our first cousin. Do you see the tendency to allow fear to take root?

I suppose it’s my own acknowledgement of the fear welling-up within me, but during our middle of the night visit to my brother in the emergency department, I prayed for him, for answers, for a plan and against fear.

Psalm 34:4 I prayed to the Lord, and he answered me. He freed me from all my fears.

Psalm 46:2 So we will not fear when earthquakes come and the mountains crumble into the sea.

Psalm 112:7 They do not fear bad news; they confidently trust the Lord to care for them.

We don’t know what the future holds for any of us. And I understand how fearful we can become when we don’t have the game plan laid out on the table. However, what is trust if it isn’t executed in the midst of something fearful? And…Do we trust God regardless of what the outcome will be? Do we truly believe He is in control of all things? If the answer to those last two questions is “yes,” then there is trust, and there is peace, the absence of fear.

Dr. Albrecht’s article addressed five basic fears. And I believe you can overcome any basic fear with three basic, yet powerful resources.

1. Get in God’s Word- search His Word and find a scripture to speak out when your mind is tempted to think the worst. And when I say, “speak out,” I mean literally, speak it out. Sometimes we have to hear it. Plus there’s authority in His Word. Your spirit will find strength as you speak His Word.
2. Pray- He knows your thoughts anyway. Be genuine and authentic and share them with Him. If you’re scared, tell Him; and ask Him to help you overcome your fear, same goes with anger, resentment or disappointment. He created you. He loves you. You’re His child. Share your heart with Him; even the unpleasant parts.
3. Sing- sometimes we simply don’t have any words. Song can be a powerful tool to connect the emotions of our heart with our Father who loves and cares for us.

In those times we feel we’re running across a dark driveway, completely vulnerable to the elements around us, know that someone is waiting for you with His front door open. You’re running safe into His arms.

My Song These Last Several Days:

Your Great Name ~ Natalie Grant

Lost are saved; find their way; at the sound of Your great name

All condemned; feel no shame, at the sound of Your great name

Every fear; has no place; at the sound of Your great name

The enemy; he has to leave; at the sound of Your great name

Jesus, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain for us, Son of God and Man

You are high and lifted up; and all the world will praise Your great name

All the weak; find their strength; at the sound of Your great name

Hungry souls; receive grace; at the sound of Your great name

The fatherless; they find their rest; at the sound of Your great name

Sick are healed; and the dead are raised; at the sound of Your great name

Jesus, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain for us, Son of God and Man

You are high and lifted up; and all the world will praise Your great name

Redeemer, My Healer, Lord Almighty

My savior, Defender, You are My King

Jesus, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain for us, Son of God and Man

You are high and lifted up; and all the world will praise Your great name

Songwriters: MICHAEL NEALE, KRISTEN L. NORDHOFF

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No Big Deal

“Hey baby. I was just calling to let you know I am saying prayers for you for tomorrow. I love you. You’ve been on my mind a lot, and everything is going to be just fine, I just hate that you have to go through this. But anyhow I love you and call me if you have time, if not, I totally understand. You know I’m with you. Bye baby.” This was the message I received Monday night after my shift. It was my Aunt Donna touching base with me before my 9am surgery on Tuesday. I hadn’t given the procedure much thought. I had acknowledged it with my co-workers through casual routine conversation of when we each worked again. Nurses frequently ask, “When are you back?” It’s nice to know if you’ll be working with the same team, especially if our days are scheduled in a row. You get in a groove with those you work with frequently, which can help make things go smooth. But apart from a few mentions of being absent a couple of weeks, I hadn’t really discussed this surgery.

Is it because I consider it confidential or feel it exposes my privacy? Not at all. I didn’t call and tell anyone, or make a post, because it feels, after this many surgeries, it’s just not a big deal. I assume people probably get sick of hearing about it. I’ve got oodles of scar tissue, tightness and constriction, and sometimes it seems never ending. Same song. Five hundredth verse. [Not really, but too numerous to count.] I’m not going to lie. Sometimes I have a pity party. Sometimes I get so sick of this. No matter how many years go by, one surgery takes me back to the thoughts I had as a kid. Detesting the fact I was hunched over, barely walking, feeling like an old woman. As active and mobile as I normally am, one surgery takes me back. I try to minimize the dread. I try to focus on the perks of surgery, the nap and those warm blankets. And after reminding myself about some of the health issues people are facing, these surgeries seem like a breeze.

Nevertheless, I was reminded Tuesday how blessed I am with so many people who care. By way of my Mom’s Facebook post came numerous messages, calls and texts, even a pie, cupcake and flowers from my sweet neighbor. It got me thinking… how often do we cut ourselves short of love? By keeping quiet I was cutting short the care and concern people I love wanted to show.

While there are some things I hold personally quiet, most of life I feel blessed to share. After all, life is about living, and living encompasses the people we’ve been given to share this life with, so why put up barriers? Disconnection happens when we guard ourselves and it can fade into the dangerous effects of isolation. What an opportunity for the enemy to convince someone that no one cares.

We told the kids a few days before about my surgery. We discussed the plans for the time I’d be down. Mom having surgery can be scary for kids, but they handle it well when they know there’s a plan. And I was surprised when my daughter asked if she could go with me. I had never given it any thought that she had no idea the processes involved in going in for an operation. So Brandon and I told her if it was okay with her teachers and her schoolwork, then absolutely she could go.

This time was very different for me. It’s what I would even consider special. Mothers always want to be the caretakers, the comforters, the one in control. The tables were turned for me Tuesday. My precious girl walked through the doors with me when they called my name. She sat near when the nurse started my IV, something Brooklyn had never seen before. She watched as Dr. Kirk came in to make his surgical markings. She prayed with her Dad and me before I headed out of the pre-op area. She waited those three hours of my operation and listened intently as Dr. Kirk drew explanations of the procedure. Brooklyn helped me get dressed and put my shoes on for me. She escorted me to and helped me in the car. As humbling as it was, I am grateful for the opportunity to have seen my daughter as I did the other day.

In the realities of this injury, stood the miracle of it. While twenty-six years ago my family was focusing on when it would be “over,” the reality was never. My life will never be what it would have been. Life will never be the same, but life is still good. In some ways, I think it is even better. When faced with never walking again, being able to is treasured. When weighing the chances of a fulfilling relationship, having one is gold. When accepting minimal possibility of pregnancy, children are everything. While most people don’t set their minds on mobility, marriage or children until the topics present themselves, I thought on them from the delicate age of seven. I feared I had lost everything, before I had the chance to live it. Therefore, today, it’s hard to focus on that which was lost when there’s so much that’s been given.

The focus isn’t on the scars or the pain, the repetitive surgeries or the inconvenience of recovering. For me, the gift isn’t merely about living and having survived the injury. My focus is on what I thought I’d have to live without. And both were represented and very present with me on Tuesday, the hope of a family, my husband and my child.

It is a big deal. Surgeries can be complicated. None are without risks. But what’s a bigger deal? Having the strength to face them. Having the love of my family and my friends. It’s a big deal to my heart having others concerned for me. I am filled with joy for what I’ve been given, overwhelming joy.

Colossians 1:11-12

We also pray that you will be strengthened with all His glorious power so you will have all the endurance and patience you need. May you be filled with joy, always thanking the Father. He has enabled you to share in the inheritance that belongs to His people, who live in the light.

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My Voice

It is a regular occurrence for me to sit down and write to a faithful group of people who follow my blog.  These people know my heart and my intentions.  They allow me the privilege to share my life and my take away lessons from the experiences I encounter. I encountered an individual who jumped to conclusions and made a hasty judgment on me.  This person used his authority as a means of intimidation; not receiving any of the words I spoke in attempt to bring clarity to the situation.  In an industry driven by customers and cognizant of customer service, a polite manner was furthest from the approach.  Bold words were spoken and a crass tone used by this employee.

I was Completely Misjudged that day.  As I do, I sat down to share my life with my readers.  So often people are misjudged or mistreated and yet have no voice.  Now that I have used my voice, it seems that maybe I should not have shared the name in which I was so boldly instructed to get right.

While some were quite displeased with me sharing my experience, others were glad for the attention brought to the matter, as they had experienced very similar encounters in that same store.  My sharing my experience provided a level of accountability.  My Pastor use to say, integrity is how you act when no one is watching.  How differently would the interactions have been had it been known that the experience would be written about and shared?

I am so grateful that those who truly know Heather Meadows knew my heart and read my words.  That is why when I was at work, taking care of sick babies today, my manager called me in her office to confirm just that.  Despite a phone call to our human resources department, in an attempt to attack my job, my human resources department read my blog, contacted my manager and found there to be no negative reflection on my hospital through what I shared.  My manager reaffirmed that I hold the values of my organization and provide excellent, compassionate care and service to my babies and their families.  It matters how we treat people, at all times.

Even though there has been the generous support of my family, my friends, my faithful blog followers and my place of employment to leave it all as I said it, I have edited the post because this blog is about me offering encouragement through my life experiences.  Monday was a huge life experience for me, as I’d never been perceived as a shoplifter.  It wasn’t about revenge; there was no name-calling or slams, it was about my incredibly unpleasant experience and my desire for this man to know that’s not who I was, since he wouldn’t receive those words of explanation from my own mouth.

I’ve learned that I will never take an item that I own, that is my property, that I have proof of ownership without first checking it with customer service.  It’s something I’ve done countless times before and never thought a thing of it, but will from now on be mindful to do.

But I still ask, what has this assistant store manager learned?

I would never speak to one of my baby’s families in such a way and I would hasten the opportunity to apologize if it were offered to me.

For that reason, Assistant Store Manager’s Family, I apologize that my words hurt you.  I believe professionalism and excellence is our own responsibility when we are at our place of employment.  Maybe this situation will help yours to improve that.  Out of consideration for you, I have removed his name from the post and deleted all the comments since many of them included his name

Proverbs 18:21

The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit.

Pursuing His plan, His love and His character despite the unpleasant bumps in the road.

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The Power of a Name

I once read that one of the wonderful things about having a baby is getting to name them.  My experience was completely different.  When we were expecting our daughter, my husband and I felt tremendous pressure to give her the most perfect name;  a name that she would be proud to carry for all the days of her life.  The feeling didn't change much when our second child came along.  Imagine the anxiety of doing that four times.  Can anyone identify with that challenge; the challenge of naming your child? However difficult that may seem, it comes down to the fact that our name is much more our responsibility than the person who gave it to us.  Think about a business.  Businesses work very hard to make a good name for themselves.  Success in business is highly influenced by reputation.  So overall, it's not so much the name that I gave to my children, as what they choose to do with it.

My husband and I often remind our children that their actions and their decisions are a reflection of our family, because they carry our name.  Positively or negatively, they represent our family.  Just like we represent our Savior.  We not only carry our birth name or family name, we carry the name of Jesus Christ.  And THERE IS power in THAT name (Philippians 2:10-11).

I pray that when people hear my name that they think positive thoughts and feel happy emotions.  I pray that the name Heather Meadows is consistent with the name Christian.  I desire for my reputation to be one of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23).

It's not always easy, but in all situations let us find ways to promote our name in love.  When we suffer the consequences of someone's selfish acts, when we are snarled at because of someone else's inconvenience, or when we are mistreated by those we love; let us represent ourselves well and promote the One that forgives all the mistakes we have to bring.  There is no other name like His (Acts 4:11-12).

Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. I Peter 4:8

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