Missing you.... Missing me.... Just missing

I wasn't going to write about this observation, but it has a hold of me and it won’t let go. 

So, #1 child has a best friend.  Lately they have been drifting apart, and while she is sad about that, she understands extenuating circumstances.  She trusts that their relationship is strong enough to weather the storm.  She will always be a friend.  Isn't that the way it should be? 

The other day I noticed on social media this friend was tagged in a picture with another and the caption read something about “best friends.”  I am happy for both girls.  I understand the need to have true, lasting and healthy friendships in life.

But it got me to wondering….

Does the new best friend know that there once was another, before her? 

Does she know that there is another who she could thank for laying the foundation of true friendship? 

Now please don’t misunderstand….. #1 child, while feeling slightly orphaned,  is very excited for her bestie who has finally found what she has always wanted, a friend her own age who loves her without condition.

I wonder….why is it that we, although created to be highly relational, cannot be more inclusive of those we love?

But, #2 child has added fuel to my questioning fire. 

She has a best friend, as much as a middle school-er can have a best friend.  They just met a few months ago and spent a lot of time together.  But lately her best friend doesn't seem to have much time for her.  The notes which used to be passed between the two like water over Niagara Falls has slowed to an occasional rain drop in the midst of a drought. And she is feeling parched.

And #2 child doesn't understand why.

I wonder ……how can we love someone so much and then slowly, quietly without realizing what happened, not even think about them. 

How does love fade into mere cordial greetings and salutations?

And how do we explain something to our babies that we ourselves cannot fully understand?

I wonder… Is there someone out there who misses me?

I know I am missing a few friends from other seasons of my life. 

And I wonder about my responsibility in all of this? 

Do I need to invest?  Make a phone call? Drop a card? Stop by? 

“Self-imposed isolation” was a phrase a heard this week and it resonated ……in my very soul. 

And again I wondered…. Does anyone miss me? 

More importantly does Jesus miss me when I am in my self –imposed isolation? 

Trying to stay covered in the dust…. 

Knowing that means coming out of isolation ~Ch

The Story of Me.... Epilogue.... for now

My time with Aunt Fran was invaluable to my understanding of God’s grace to forgive all that I had experienced.  It was a unique situation but she discipled me that way that Jesus discipled his followers, by doing life together.  In doing so, she ingrained in me the need for real, authentic, transparent Christian community.  

This has become my passion….

mentoring, 

discipleship, 

small groups, 

community.  

To see those, who are where I once was, come into transformational relationship with Jesus is the cry of my heart. 

So, who am I?  

I am waiting to see. 

I am still working out my faith… daily, sometimes stumbling, but always looking forward.   

Today I have been married for almost 14 years to God’s gift to me.  

I am a mother of 3 amazing children who all seek to follow Christ and His call for their lives.  

I am the founding director of a  13 year old outreach ministry at my home church called Kids’ Closet, which                 I do strictly on a volunteer basis. 

I am the chair of the Adult Christian Education Committee, lead several small groups and engage in formal and informal mentoring of men and women of all ages. 

I am fully ordained by Church of God, Anderson as of June 2011.  

I obtained my Bachelor of Science degree in Christian Ministries from Mid-America Christian University in December of 2011. 

I have been blessed to teach at Western PA youth camp for the past 4 years and multiple other conferences and retreats.  

But my greatest title by far is 

a saved by grace child of The Most High God 

and it is on Him I trust and who I rely on to move me forward... 

while I stay covered in the dust of The Rabbi.

The Story of me.... Part 2

I am not sure why God is encouraging this testimony but He knows better than I.  

For a trip (pun completely intended) down memory lane, take your blinders off ......and away we go. 

I was a Sunday school drop off.  My parents instilled in me the traditional weekly obligation for church at an early age.  Whoever  was the most likely to be awake after Saturday night festivities would be the one who drove my little brother & I to Sunday school during my elementary years.   It was years before I knew there was more to the church building than the linoleum tiled basement where I learned about Jesus.  I was awed with the sanctuary when I finally did encounter it.  It was beautiful and not a place for the likes of me.... finger paint-covered, pig tailed, noisy shoed, drop off me.

My religious education came to an abrupt end when the pastor, a large, collared, gruff man, told me that I was not a good fit for the youth group because I was not willing to conform without question.  , It's not what he said, but what I heard was that I was not even good enough for Jesus to love. so, I easily bought into that lie and began to live that which was spoken over me.

I was a shell of a person, one who no one noticed, or paid attention to, or engaged with…. more ammunition for the Enemy when he whispered his lies.  I managed to navigate high school without major incident. Looking back, there was one event which further cemented my understanding of a God who loved only the  rightest, the beautiful, the best.  At 16, my cousin & I were invited to a very charismatic independent church in the area by a young man from marching band.  When we stepped in, there were banners flying and electric guitars, and an alter call that I went forward for.  I knew something was different but I didn’t have a Bible, I didn’t have a connection, I wasn’t shown the way.  I left there knowing that I had experienced the Divine, but I kept doing life the only way I knew how, alone. And no one noticed and no one cared.  

 It was during my first and only year away from home at college when I found what I believed to be freedom.  In reality it was the launch of all out warfare on my life.  My life was a cycle of dysfunction with alcoholism, addiction, abuse, & promiscuity.  At 19 a met a man, 19 years my senior, who I became involved with who further affirmed my lack of worth.  I stayed in a relationship, living with him for years, believing it was all I deserved.  Toward the end of nearly a decade together, I convinced him to have a baby with me.  Her birth was the best thing to have ever happened in my life yet it did nothing to change the dynamic of my relationship with her father as I had expected it would.  Actually, our relationship did change, for the worse.  I finally had a purpose and I was unwilling to endure abuse any longer.  I left on her 2^nd birthday with a police escort, in the dead of night and never looked back. 

We were homeless.  In rural Western PA homeless looks very different than stereotyped homelessness but I was 26, she was 2 and we were homeless.  We went to stay with an aunt, and I was still very frightened.  This aunt is not the kind who is related by blood but by love.  She loved Jesus and she loved us.  I fully intended to stay with her only until I could get a place of my own.  That temporary arrangement lasted nearly 2 years.  Gently, she introduced me to the love, true love of Jesus.  She taught me daily walking with Him.  She modeled obedience, submission, patience.  She showed me with her life how at times she wrestled with God and His will for her life and ours.  This was not the religion of my childhood, or the god who condemned my need for answers to tough questions.  I learned how to be submissive, patient, reliant, how to trust, respond, and accept the grace of The One True and Holy God.  

I was noticed. 

I was accepted.

I was loved....

dirty past, messy life, wounds and all.  I was loved.  

I am loved.... I cannot imagine choosing to return to that life that I once knew. I daily choose to remain in The One who know the number of hairs on my head and loves me anyway.  I have been found, healed and delivered from that which I was once enslaved to. And for that I give thanks daily.....

Covered in the dust.....