Keep Your Vision Alive

I will be brief today. I have a wretched upper respiratory infection and my air conditioning is on the fritz. I’m piled up on my couch watching “Downton Abbey” and trying to breathe out of one nostril, Kleenex in hand, waiting on a return call from the air conditioning people. When it rains, it pours... 

Since my head is sorta fuzzy from cold meds and lack of sleep (the Princess and I slept on the couch), I am hoping what I write today will make good sense. I am not certain it will, but I’m gonna give a good ole try...

What is your vision? Where will it take you? What goals have you set to make it attainable? I have been thinking about vision a lot lately, and I’ve discovered a few things:  

1.  A vision is never fully appreciated by anyone other than the vision caster. No one is going to catch your vision like you do. Expect it and don’t worry about it. It’s your vision. No one else can be expected to have the enthusiasm you do for it.  

2.  A vision is nebulous until it’s developed. It starts out vaguely, usually with an idea or a stirring  in the heart.  It’s our job to take that vision, mold it, nurture it, develop it, and see it through to completion. 

3. A vision comes with obstacles. As sure as there is a godly vision, there will be ungodly obstacles. These can take many forms. Don’t let that discourage you. Formulate effective strategies and work the plan.  

4.  A vision transforms your thinking. Visions give you new perspectives on every aspect of your life. They are game changers. Visions come in the form of the quarterback who spends the extra hour on the field practicing the “Hail, Mary.” Or the young, single mother awake at midnight, studying for final exams to make a better life for herself and her child. Or the senior who leaves their corporate job to start a less demanding career at age 60. Or even the child who tries to convince their mother for one more piece of candy. These are all examples of transformational vision. 

5. A vision helps keep the spirit alive. The Bible tells us that people perish for lack of vision. Without hope, without a true vision, people get discouraged, disheartened and even depressed. If everyone keeps their heads down and  slogs along in life, there is no impetus to hope for a brighter future or better days ahead. Don’t let this be you! 

May God give you His vision today! 

The Goodness of God

“In darkest nights, You are close like no other.” This is a quote from the song “Goodness of God.” I am awake at 4:00 a.m., listening when I should be snoozing. 

I was gonna write about something else today. In fact, I already had it written and ready to go. But this morning, sitting here on my couch, I’m weeping over the goodness of God. There are worse places to be...

I have been having moments over the last few days when I felt God was anything but good. I have been angry, frustrated and questioning God’s mercy, grace and love. I have questioned His listening ear. I have questioned His ability to answer prayer. And to be perfectly honest, I have questioned His existence. I don’t do this often, but I have to occasionally give myself a good spiritual kick in the pants from time to time to get back on track. In the dark of night and the dawn of the morning, I had to do just that today. I had to remind myself that in my darkest night, He stood by me and held me close to His heart. He  was there when no one else was. He saw my tears, and He was moved by compassion to dry them. He didn’t leave me alone. He came and He healed my brokenness.  

When I stand before the Lord, He isn’t gonna ask me about my moments of weakness. He’s gonna ask me where my strength came from. He’s gonna ask me did I receive His mercy and grace when they were running after me. He’s gonna ask me about His Son and what did I do with this great gift He gave humanity. These are things God and I are gonna have a conversation about. 

So, as my heart turns to the One who saved me from despair, I can now state with unwavering resolve, “I will sing of the goodness of God.” Even when I don’t see it, even when I don’t feel it, even when I don’t hear it, I will sing of the goodness of God . Because His goodness isn’t predicated on my opinion. His goodness is predicated on His divine character. And that’s enough. 

There is no shadow of turning with God. His light drives away any shadow of doubt, despair or defeat that tries to attach itself to His light. It is only by living in the light, walking in it on our journey, bathing ourselves in it, that we can know His power, His love and His faithfulness. We are faithless creatures. He is not. 

As as I think about the events of today (and I’m not looking forward to said events because they involve the burying of one of the finest men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing), I will keep this song in my heart as I pray for his family. My prayer is they will see the goodness of God in their lives. My prayer is even in grief, they will know God’s closeness like no other. My prayer is they will know His faithfulness, His mercy, His grace,  even in the midst of desolation. My prayer is for the comfort of the Holy Spirit, as their loved one is laid to rest.  And even if we don’t understand God’s ways, and we question what He does, our hearts can still sing of the goodness of God. 

“All my life You have been faithful. All my life You have been so, so good. With every breath that I am able, I will sing of the goodness of God.”

Tribute to a Man of God

I have nothing today. I am empty and I cannot pour from an empty vessel. I don’t like to leave you guys without a blog on the days I promised, but this is tough going tonight. 

My pastor and friend, Greg Cox, went home to be with the Lord, and to be honest, I’m not sure how I feel about that. On the one hand, I’m happy that he’s with Jesus tonight because he fought a battle no human should have to face. He fought bravely, and he fought well. On the other hand, his family is devastated and our church is grieving.  He was a great man of God, a man I learned some very important lessons from. And the most important of all was...perspective. 

I’ll never forget him bringing that ladder into the church and climbing up, expounding on the topic. I really don’t think he made any earth shattering statements, nor did he part the Red Sea. BUT his words transformed one small woman’s world that day. It made me see things like I’d never seen before. New thoughts came into my puny little brain, thoughts of seeing things through other people’s eyes, looking at things from different angles, searching through deception and climbing out with the truth victoriously in my hand—all because I changed my perspective. All because one Big Bald Head (my nickname for him) preached a sermon and climbed a ladder in our sanctuary. If I remember nothing else of Pastor Greg Cox, I remember perspective.   

I am honoring him tonight by doing as he would wish. I am changing my perspective of his passing. Rather than concentrating on the grieving, I’m gonna focus on the knowledge he brought to our church congregation, the love he presented to his family, and most of all, the honor it was to have known him. 

Rest easy, Big Bald Head. You have a new perspective tonight, a glorious one. Semper Fi.

Isaiah 40:31 - Those who wait upon the Lord, shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with wings as eagles. They shall run and not be weary. They shall walk and not faint.”

Peace, Love and Rock N Roll

My generation is a motley, tattooed crew.  And, yes, pun intended.  We were the ones who wore love beads, protested the war, burned our bras and basically wanted to stick it to “The Man.”  Over the years I’ve discovered this…we have become “The Man.”  We may be tattooed and ride Harley’s, but deep down, we became the very thing we detested—conformists.  (Well, SOME of us have, anyway.  I think I still have a little Jerry Rubin rebel inside me somewhere…and I don’t know what to think about that.)

There is still something inside me that thrills when I hear the Jimi Hendrix rendition of “The Star Spangled Banner.” My feet start dancing when I hear Steppenwolf sing “Magic Carpet Ride.” And my little brain still occasionally reads “Guitar Player” magazine, like I’m gonna find an article about Eric Clapton, Frank Zappa, or Alvin Lee.  I mentally have an urge to shout “Diddy-Wah-Diddy” occasionally.  And if you don’t know what that means by now, don’t mess with it, to quote Mr. Natural.   I was a fan of counter-culture, not necessarily in a bad way, but more of a screaming “I-want-to-be-an-individual-leave-me-alone” kind of way.  I feel like I’m stuck in a time-warp, and I do not wish to move into the future. Because even though those were turbulent times, we could still go outside and catch fireflies after dark.  We could still drink Black Cherry Koolaid on our Grandmother’s porch and tell ghost stories.  We could still play Kick The Can and run as fast as we could, hearts racing with excitement. We could still walk to school without fear of being kidnapped or worse.  We could still leave our homes without our telephone and no one panicked.  If the phone rang and no one answered, (SHOCK!) we called back.  We rode to the mountains on the weekends with our parents.  We went to church.  We shopped at the grocery store on Saturday because it wasn’t open on Sunday.  We smoked candy cigarettes and didn’t die from either cancer or sugar overload.  We drank some type of noxious liquid from little wax soda bottles and we lived to tell the tale.  We survived without car seats, computers, and permanent press. 

Then, technology happened.  It descended on us like a flock of seagulls (yes, I also realize that’s the name of a band), and it keeps growing like the inflated monster it is.  Don’t get me wrong…I’m all for technology, and I realize the irony of what I’m saying as I type it on a laptop tablet computer.  However, I believe society has lost something of itself.  We have lost some of our humanity.  We have traded our conscience for algorithms.  We have bartered our free time for analytics.  We have exchanged our souls for bitcoin. 

So, what’s the answer?  I’m really not sure.  I think at the very least we could turn off the TV and go outside.  We could leave our phones behind on purpose.  We could unplug.  Even as I write this, I’m reminded of these words, “Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out,” a phrase coined by Timothy Leary.  I’m not advocating THAT, but I AM saying we, as a society, have lost a connection somewhere.  We’re driving down the road with only a couple of lug nuts on our spiritual automobiles.  We have missed something—something important.  We have missed God, and we have missed our connection with other humans.  This is something vital that we can’t afford to lose. 

So how do we get it back?  I’m not sure, but we could start by asking God “Where did I go wrong?”  You see, we can’t collectively fix the world doing what we’re doing.  But one brave soul CAN change the world.  We have to dig down deep inside ourselves, let God lead us, and move when we sense His direction.  And when we do that, we are moving into our God-given vision, and that’s transformation.  It’s transformation in the same sense that my generation wanted.  The difference is we left God out of our equation.  When we add God into the mix, the outcome will be quite different.  We will still face adversity.  We will still face war.  We will still face obstacles.  But the difference is, we will face them with Him. And that, my dear friends, is truly transformational. 

I challenge you today to do one thing, one small, tiny thing, outside your comfort zone to transform your day.  Just one.  It can be as simple as hugging a child.  It could be as complicated as making a new business plan.  It could be changing your perspective about someone.  Only you and God will know what it is.  But do it.  Try it.  And drop a comment here about how it went.  I would really love to hear about it and build a supportive community here for everyone who reads my blog.  I wish you a happy day.  Peace out!

The above pictures shows how I think I look as a hippie chick.  And the one below is how I actually look…

When Something Wicked This Way Comes

I am certain I don’t understand the workings of God.  I try…but my limited human brain just can’t comprehend why in the world He does the things He does.  I suppose that’s why He’s God and I am not.  I’m just one little woman, trying to make my way in the world, and I feel like I’m blind as a bat most of the time.

I have been guilty of using the quote “life happens.”  Well, Life DOES happen, but that doesn’t make the things Life throws at us any easier to swallow.  In fact, I sometimes think it makes things more difficult, because we oftentimes know it’s coming.  We just don’t always know WHEN.  And it’s in the When that our characters are made or our spirits are broken.  I am reminded of a line from Shakespeare’s MacBeth—“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”  My thumbs may not be “pricking” (and I’m not certain what that means, exactly, and it’s certainly nothing good), but Shakespeare surely was writing about Life in general when he penned those memorable words.

In Life, something wicked often comes, and we are not prepared to deal with it.  We think we are, we may even have a warning of said wickedness, but at the moment it hits us, we are still surprised and bewildered.  Life sneaks up on us.  We are blindsided.  I don’t much like being blindsided.  I like to mentally prepare for the worse, then, when it doesn’t happen, I feel good about it.  I recognize this isn’t an effective way to handle adversity.  Of course we need to plan, but we don’t need to live our lives as if Life is just waiting to smack us around at every little whim.  This is not living by faith, and it is not pleasing God one little bit.

What’s more, if we continue to live our lives in such a fashion, it leaves little room for God to work.  It leaves us with feeling we can depend on ourselves for our answers rather than on God.  I am certain this isn’t how God intended it to be.  God wants us to have faith.  Hebrews 11:6 states, “Without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.”  This is a difficult verse, mostly because of the word “impossible.”  I don’t want to be in a position of impossibility, because God is a God of infinite POSSIBILITIES.  So, in order to please Him, we must give our faith a good, solid shake, dust it off and use it, and use it abundantly.  This is what pleases God—not our skewed, human view of Life, but our willingness to bow our knees and simply say, “Show me how to have faith.” 

May God bless each of you today with the gift of faith.  May faith arise in your hearts and chase away any doubt.  And when Life comes knocking, open the door with a new resolve—a resolve of faith, not matter the circumstances.

Performance Anxiety

My mind has been rather blank today.  I’ve tried all day to think about what to write, and I’m really struggling to land on a topic I feel would be of interest to everyone.  Forgive me, I am merely honest.  I believe if I’m having difficulty, It’s best to just own up to it and confess.  That way, if I fall short of expectations, there is at least an excuse.  After much back and forth mentally (me backing and forthing myself half to death), I decided to write about performance anxiety, simply because I beliene we all suffer from it, in one form or another.

The words “performance anxiety” are rather self explanatory, aren’t they?  When we set our hands to a task or we know we have to do something that’s outside our comfort zone, performance anxiety lurks in the recesses of our minds like a demented cat, waiting to pounce, filling us with nervous foreboding, and telling us we aren’t equal to the mission, the chore, the venture.  And we humans somehow get distracted by this and believe this lie. 

My biggest anxiety is that I’m not a good person.  More specifically, that I’m not a good Christian.  I know my flaws, fears and failures, which are many, and my brain operates in such a way to remind me moment by moment how much of a dismal fiasco I really am.  There is an ongoing conversation in my head about how I’m not good enough, not smart enough, not rich enough, not thin enough, not pretty enough, not funny enough, not talented enough….NOT ENOUGH!  It seems I tell myself these things, whether they’re true or not.  Even though I know most of these things aren’t true (well, except for that rich enough part….don’t we all want more money?), it’s still hard to shut off the commentary.  The conversation goes something like this:

Me:  I think I’ll start a podcast.  I think it will really help people, and I think that’s what God wants me to do.

Also Me:  Why would anyone listen to you?  You sound like a country hick.  You don’t have anything of interest to say.   People won’t listen to you because you’re not smart enough.

Me:  I don’t think it has anything to do with being smart.  I think I have enough life experiences that I have something of value to say.

Also Me:  You always think you are sooooo smart.  You’re just a dummy.  No one wants to hear you talk.  In fact, you bore me and I’m you.

Me:  Well, maybe I won’t work on that podcast today.  Maybe I really have nothing of value to add to the world.  I think I’ll eat an ice cream instead.

Also Me:  You’re too fat already.  You need to eat some celery.  You’re gonna weigh 300 pounds if you keep that up.

Me: (Putting the ice cream back in the freezer) I guess you’re right…maybe I’ll just watch TV.

Also Me:  All you ever do is watch TV.  You’ll never be a good Christian.  You’re not disciplined enough.  Why would God want you as His child?  You’re such a slacker.

Me:  I don’t think God thinks like that.

Also Me:  Yes, He does!  Of all His children, you are the worse!  Just go to bed.  You’re worthless.

Me:  Maybe you’re right….

Okay, I exaggerated, but mental conversations like this exist every day among women.  We think we are somehow “less than.”  I have spent many years trying to liberate myself from “Also Me”.  I haven’t been totally successful, but here are a few things I’ve learned about her.

1. She doesn’t know everything.  Also Me is only a pale version of Real Me.  Real Me IS smart, competent, and funny.  Real Me IS a confident women.  Real Me is a winner.

2. She is a liar.  Also Me will tell me anything to keep me from succeeding because she has a fear of success.  Real Me is fearless, resting in God to lead the way toward victory.

3. She is a performance-based entity. Also Me believes everything is based on performance.  Real Me knows that the only thing that matters is God’s grace, love and mercy—things which are based on His character, not my performance.

   One thing I have learned that’s the absolute truth about God—my performance has NOTHING to do with His love for me.  It is in His nature to love.  It is who He is.  He absolutely does not keep a record of my wrongdoings.  He keeps a record of my name, which He wrote in His book.  The rest, past history. 

   I am not discounting the work of the devil.  He is like a hungry lion, just waiting to devour anyone he can.  I do, however, think we give him too  much power over us, and I think we give him too much credit.  I think we blame him for things that run through our head, when, in reality, it’s just our own negative self-talk.  It’s easy to do.  We’ve been told for years (particularly by the media) how many shortcomings we have.  We need the right car, the right house, the right neighborhood, the right bank, the right friends, the right schools—all of which serve to give us a gigantic inferiority complex and a drive for the wrong things.  Some of us had bad childhoods, where we weren’t affirmed properly, or our worth wasn’t acknowledged.  Some of us have been in abusive situations where we were told over and over again how worthless we are.  Soon, we came to believe the lies. 

I don’t know what your circumstances were or what they are today.  I do know this—God is bigger than whatever you have been told in the past.  His love for you is immense.  Your past is just that—your past. Easy enough to leave behind and begin a new, bright future.  I am not saying there aren’t times for self examination….there are.  There are times we NEED to take a look at our actions and examine our motives:  however, if that examination leads us away from God and leads us down a rabbit hole where we mentally berate ourselves mercilessly,  then we need to re-think just exactly where our mind is taking us.  Is it leading us forward with confidence in God’s journey, or are we just sinking into self-pity and self-loathing?  God admonishes us to love our neighbors as ourselves.  We can’t love our neighbors if we have such performance anxiety that we hate our very existence. 

This blog post started off slowly.  I think I’m finishing up much better than I started.  I want you to leave with this today:  God loves you.  Period.  Take care of your mental health.  Stop being negative about yourself and focus on those things you know you do well. Those things are God’s gifts to you.  God loves you.   He doesn’t expect perfection.  He is much more impressed with obedience.  God loves you.  He created you to be uniquely YOU.  You are His creation, created uniquely you.  Did I tell you God loves you?  Yes , actually I just told you no less than FOUR times in this paragraph.  Point made, and point taken. 

 #performanceanxkety

#beanxiousfornothing  

#selftalk

#bethechange

#godlovesyou

Surviving Widowhood: Caregiving

I have recently had an opportunity to talk to a few ladies who were caregivers by profession.  These are ladies who work tirelessly on behalf of our loved ones, providing a service that’s invaluable to the family.  These ladies work on the “front lines”.  They stare death in the face daily, and dare him to do his worst. 

When you’re a caregiver for a sick or dying loved one, it’s exhausting, both mentally and physically.  There’s no respite.  When you’re awake, you’re caring for every need for someone who may or may not be here tomorrow.  And when you’re asleep, you toss and turn, worrying (even in your dreams) if they’re gonna leave this world while you’re asleep and will you ever forgive yourself if they do.  These are things I know from first-hand experience. 

When I took care of Greg (my husband), it was the most draining experience of my life.  But it was also an honor—an honor that I was chosen to be the one to help in his final moments here on this earth.  It was an honor to dress his body when he left our home one final time.  It was an honor to stand by his coffin and greet all the people who loved him and hear stories of how he’d touched their lives.  It was a honor to stand by his grave, knowing he was going to be lowered into his final resting place.  It was even an honor to return home to an empty house, knowing this was the first of many more empty nights alone.  It was an honor. 

Even though it’s not an honor I would wish on anyone else, I feel I must explain this “honor.”  You see, it was an honor to be chosen to be the one who was able to walk Greg from sickness to death.  No one else would have done it exactly like me.  It was my road to walk.  It was my journey to travel.  It was my sorrow to grieve.  No one could’ve done it for me, and no one else could’ve done it for Greg.  I was the choice, and I’m glad it was me. 

I was chosen by God to be a widow.  How many times do I wish He had chosen someone else!? Many times, my friends, many times.  But…I was the one.  In choosing me to do this task, the caregiving and leavetaking vigil, God knew I was equal to the task.  I didn’t know where my next ounce of strength was coming from, but He did.  It came from Him.  God gave me the strength to watch my husband suffer through chemotherapy, wipe his brow when he had a fever, bath his shriveled body in a hot bath when he was cold. mix Ensure with his ice cream and tell him it was a milkshake, and hold his hand, fingers clubby from the effects of all the toxins in his body.  That same strength has sustained me through the darkest days of my life, and it sustains me now.

I am a better person now than I was then.  Viewing death that closely effects a change in you.  It makes you value life more.  It makes you love more, and it makes you care less about silly, ridiculous things, like a new home or a new purse.  It makes you realize the most important thing you can do is to love—love God, love others, and love yourself.  By no means do I think I’m perfect.  I’m the most imperfect person on this planet.  Yet, in spite of that, God gave me the honor of knowing Greg and loving Greg.  I am grateful for that.  I am grateful for so many things.  I am grateful for life.

I am still here on this earth.  For some reason, Greg is not.  It was time for his appointment day and time for him to go be with Jesus.  I don’t know why.  But I do know this—I know we are here to love and honor one another, even when it’s hard.  That neighbor who makes you mad…love them anyway. (I need to take my own advice on this one). That relative you’d like to smack…hug them instead.  That coworker you’d like to tell to go to—(you get the idea)…give them a kind word instead.  These are not easy things to do.  They’re doggone difficult.  In the end, though, when our eyes close for the last time, perhaps someone will look at us and say, “it was an honor…”

Have you been a caregiver for a loved one who was ill before they passed away?  What was that experience like for you?  Have you been able to recover?  If so, please leave a comment here.  I’d love to read your experiences!  Please share, if you’re comfortable doing so.

Depression: Are You At Risk?

My dog is exhausted. My sister came for a visit and brought her little French bulldog puppy, Vito. He’s an energetic little thing.  He wore the Princess out, as you can see by the picture. She is only three years old, but she’s a grumpy little thing when you mess with her territory. She’s been very finicky about her eating habits, too. I had to pour some beef broth over her dog food to get her to eat it. In fact, I’m rattling a Cheez-It box right now, and she just rolled over and closed her eyes. This is an unnatural phenomenon which doesn’t happens very often at the Jackson household.

How tired are you? How difficult is it for you to just put one foot in front of the other and breathe? What are you gonna do about it?

We all have those days—days when we are mentally, spiritually, emotionally, and physically exhausted. We feel it’s an effort to even move our eyeballs. We get drained and then we get into trouble.  We lay on the couch, nestled down in the Ugliest Afghan In The World, minds blank (or else run amok), and we feel paralyzed. Not even the rattle of a Cheez-It box gets our attention. And if we’re not alert to our bodies and minds telling us something is wrong, depression sets in. Funny thing, depression...it’s an insidious disease. It creeps and slithers into our lives like a venomous reptile swallowing a rat, inch by inch. Then, before we even know it, we’re down the rabbit hole with no Alice for a lifeline. I’m not talking about having a day or two where we’re mentally down, or physically exhausted like Trixie.  We all have those days. I’m talking about something a little more serious and something that needs more attention. I’m talking about real depression.

If you battle depression, let me urge you to get help immediately. Left untreated, it can have dire consequences. I know because I’m a sufferer. I fought it for 10 years. I fought hard. And the reason I fought it alone and didn’t get help was because of one word—STIGMA . I didn’t want people to know I had it and I was ashamed—ashamed because I could not overcome it by just praying more. Or fasting more. Or exercising more. Or eating more. Or “whatever more.”even though I knew the statistics, and I was the first person to tell others to get help, I didn’t get it for myself. I kept thinking it would go away. And it usually did during the spring and summer months. But then fall would come—shorter days and longer nights, the cycle would begin again.

I finally decided enough was enough, and got some real help. I still have a few bad days here and there, but finally getting the help I needed liberated me from the overwhelming cloud that seemed to continually hang over my head. I feel like my old feisty, ornery self. Look out, world...

This blog has taken an unexpected turn, albeit an necessary one. I don’t feel like we address depression in a healthy manner. We don’t think about it at all unless someone famous dies. Then it’s the buzzword for a few months, but we place it quietly back into the closet where we think it belongs. Well...NO! We need to drag it out, look at it, get help for it and stop feeling shame if we have it! There’s no shame in having diabetes, or lupus. Why depression? I am shamed no more. I feel healthy, vibrant, happy and more focused on my goals instead of  the diseased mass of destruction interrupting me every five seconds reminding me how worthless I feel. No good. And no more. No more will it be me.

It’s my desire that this blog will urge someone forward to get the help they need. If you need help with depression, please contact a mental health professional immediately. There’s help and there’s hope. Be blessed, my friends!

The information in the video below was obtained from Web MD. 

Fear No Evil

This week, I’m attempting to set things up for my podcast. By “things” I mean learning how to operate the computer software and familiarize myself with the microphone. I am not literate in this area. But, never one to fear asking questions, I am attempting to learn and trying hard not to be intimidated by that red microphone wind screen that continues to stare at me like a blind cyclops.

One thing about being a widow—every single challenging thing I’ve had to do since Greg’s passing always leads me to these words—“I’ve survived worse.” The microphone may do its worse, but it’s not viewing death up close and personal. That seems like a weird way to look at things, but in some strange universe, that works for me. I know in my heart of hearts, even though it’s challenging, it won’t kill me.  If I fail, my entire world will not change. It’s just a microphone. It’s not cancer and it’s not death itself.

Having walked through the “valley of the shadow of death,” (Psalm 23) I can truly say, in some way that most likely makes no sense to anyone but me, “I will fear no evil.” It’s not that I never get afraid. I certainly do. But being a widow has somehow brought out my inner daredevil. I sometimes feel like I’m channeling Evel Knievel or some other bus jumping dude. If you’re not familiar with Evel Kenievel, Google can help you with that. Famous in his day for jumping buses, tractor trailers and even a river, Evel Knievel was an American icon who was, of course, kinda crazy.  He was fearless on his motorcycle, and I can remember watching his stunts in awe when I was a kid. Well, whenever my inner “Knievel” is manifesting itself, it makes me curious about the man himself. Did he face some tragedy at a young age that made him get on that bike and sail through the air like a shooting star? Or was he just plain crazy as a Bessie bug?

I don’t know the answers to these questions. I only know that once a person has witnessed  death, once a person has lost a loved one, there are changes that take place inside your heart and inside your spirit. Some good. Some not so good. Some have to be wrangled back where they belong. And some need to be set free. I read this saying once and it’s funny (of course), but it’s pertinent...”Swallow a live toad first thing in the morning and nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day.” While this may not be strictly true, the principle behind it is absolutely factual. Being a widow means I have survived that which did not kill me. Being a cancer survivor means YOU survived that which did not kill YOU. Living a full, rich life, walking with God, viewing the future without fear—these are things we can all accomplish, no matter our circumstances. I don’t quite have the hang of this yet, but I work on it a little every day.

The key seems simplistic—let God guide you. When we are afraid, or discouraged, lonely, despairing, broken, sick, hopeless, and lost, we have to turn to the One who knows the way home. There are many paths we can take, but only One path leads us into peace, joy, hope, healing, goodness, kindness, and rest. Will we still have fear at times? Of course we will. We’re human. But the fear will no longer control nor define us. It’s merely an obstacle to overcome, and not an insurmountable mountain, 37 buses to jump over,  a raging river to cross, nor is it a microphone. It’s an obstacle placed in our way to keep us paralyzed. If we’re paralyzed, we’re not moving and if we’re not moving, we’re not advancing forward, nor is God’s Kingdom.

How do we overcome fear? The answer is different for everyone because fears are different for everyone. But there is One constant: Jesus. If we place Him in the center of our lives, the rest becomes a little more brighter, a little more hopeful, a little more peaceful, a little more healing. Even during the most agonizing pain in our lives, we can still have no fear because God is with us. Take that, you foul microphone!

Pulling Against the Leash

I took Trixie for a walk this evening. She loves to walk, but hates the leash. She runs, pulls, wanders, and just absolutely makes a nuisance of herself.  She pulls so hard she chokes herself. So she tugs along, making a choking sound like I’ve fed her a fish bone, and she’s hacking it up. Sorry for the graphic visual, but that’s the way she sounds. I’m sure my neighborhood thinks I’m a dog abuser...

i have walked this dog for almost three solid years. She has always resisted the leash. She has gotten a little better, but it’s still a problem, especially when we’re going downhill. When we head downhill, that’s her cue to start running. Well, I just don’t  move as quickly as I used to, so it’s like a mouse dragging a sloth behind it. Not a pretty sight.  

So...here’s another case in point that literally just happened when I let Trixie out to go do what doggies do at 10:00 at night...The little scoundrel immediately started barking nonstop.  I couldn’t  get her back inside the house! I had to put on my ugly fake Crocs, holler really loudly (and I’m sure the entire neighborhood heard me. I actually tried to disguise my voice just in case anyone reported it), and chase her back inside! I said, “Bad dog! bad, bad dog!” Now she’s lying beside me on the couch looking at me like I shot her firstborn puppy.... 

As as I walked Trixie, I felt like I was herding cats. I’ve never herded a cat, and not sure I want to. They are wily creaturea and they scratch. I can imagine God must feel like that with us. I can imagine Him scratching His head at our recalcitrant hearts. How much do we bark and how much do we pull? Do we mumble and complain when things don’t go our way, or we think God isn’t answering our prayers quickly enough? This is just as bad as pulling against God’s guidance. Don’t get me wrong, it’s ok to complain TO God, as long as we’re not complaining ABOUT God. And as for running away from God, well,  I could write a book on that subject...

How much do we resist the leash? Do we accept constructive criticism or do we balk? It’s easier to balk, isn’t it? No one likes to be corrected, even if it’s in a loving manner. We feel entitled to do it our way, and the media helps us right along with that. Sometimes we know we’re going the wrong way and we have trouble turning around. We pull against God’s guiding hand.  If we just relax, stop pulling so hard  and let God guide us, we would see a much greater victory in our lives. We kick against God’s graciousness. I think it’s because we all have a bit of a headstrong attitude when it comes to our own lives. We feel entitled to guide ourselves because we get complacent and we get busy, two things that never bode well for anyone.  Busyness keeps us from spending time with God and complacency makes us not want to do so. The slope is a slippery one, Friends. 

I am thankful for my dog. Despite her disobedience, I love her very much. She’s a pretty good little girl, despite the leash pulling and standing in the yard, looking at me blankly when I call her name. In many other ways, she tries to obey. She sits and stays. She gets off the bed when I tell her.  She  goes to bed when I command it. And she gets in her kennel when I ask, even though I don’t even have it out much anymore. These things, she does, and does rather well, actually. She can easily be forgiven for pulling the leash and running from me. We have all done the same to God at one time or another. Running and pulling are part of our human nature. But God still thinks we are wonderful and lovable. He always will. Why? Because He created us humans to BE human, with our messes, mindsets, and marvels.  And He loves us in spite of ourselves.  

#lifecoachingforwomen

#lifecoachingforwidows

#lifecoachingworks

#ninjalifecoaching

#princesstrixiebelle

Me and the Princess

How to Take Out the Trash

One thing we all have in common is trash. We dispose of a lot of over the course of our lives. Just check any landfill. Fun random fact: the fashion industry is the number two most wasteful industry in the WORLD. Think about that next time you reach for your Michael Kors purse or your Burberry scarf. And we do reach for them, don’t we?

Who takes out the trash at your house? Who mows your lawn? Who balances the checkbook? These,’and a million other tiny things were done by my late husband. These were things I never worried about. They were taken for granted. On trash day, Greg hauled the garbage off to the dump (we lived in the county and didn’t have garbage pickup). On Saturday, Greg mowed the lawn.  Greg was the finance manager at our house. These were things Greg did every week that I never gave a single thought. 

About a week adter he died, I was sitting in my living room, and I could smell the garbage. My first thought was, “Wow. Greg needs to take out that garbage.” Then, it hit me—he was never taking out the garbage again. It was now my job to wrangle the smelly bags of garbage outside to the garbage cans. So, ok, I did that. Then the second thing hit me—I would haul have to haul that junk off to the dump. By myself. i cried that day. 

That day, I realized something—there were lots of things I was going to have to do myself.  My neighbor mowed my lawn for me that week without me asking, but what was I going to do for the rest of my life? I could handle the riding lawnmower, but the weed eater and me had a toxic relationship, and I broke up with it years ago. As for the finances, my extent of knowledge on that was using my debit card for purchases over $20. I had no idea how much money we had in the bank, nor the status of the accounts because Greg was pretty bossy about it, actually. 

I learned how to take off the trash. I found someone who would come take it off for a small fee and that was a HAPPY day at the Jackson household. I mowed the yard myself and a friend recommended a yard service for me. They mowed my yard until I moved to my condo. I dusted off my math skills (which were never none too good), went to the bank and had them help me figure out what the heck was going on with the account.  There were several surprises, but I managed to survive. 

In my daily life, I still take out my trash, mentally and spiritually speaking. Trash still attempts to overrun my spirit, and it will if I let it. But unlike learning how to do these things without Greg, I have have spiritual help in the form of Jesus. He helps me bag up my garbage and haul it away and never complains about doing so. He never says it smells. He just gets in there with me and leads me where I need to go. 

Whats your garbage? What’s holding  you back from moving forward? For me, it was many things I had to leave behind, and one of which was Greg. I had to leave behind the desire for  what night have been. I had to turn my back on the temptation to sit and waste away to nothing.  I had to leave some really unpleasant thoughts in the dust and not pick them up again. 

What has been your experience, fellow widows? Please leave a comment, if you feel up to it.  God has a way of getting our attention. And today, He got my attention with trash. Do I create more or do I just haul off what I already have? I don’t want to be like the fashion industry, burning clothes, filling already overflowing landfills with more “dead stock.” No, my disposal system needs to be permanent and clean. Clean for me and clean for others.  We are comforted so we can comfort others. I know I am not the only woman in the world who has been widowed. But sometimes it feels that way. When a brother or sister in Christ takes that moment to comfort me, or I take that moment to comfort them, that’s Christianity in action. And in action at its finest.  That’s helping others take out their reach. 

#widowland

#widowlife

#widowspeak

lifecoachingforwidows

#takeoutthetrash

Surviving Widowhood: What to Expect During the First Year

This is a new series I’ve started on my YouTube channel.  During my first year of being a widow, I was totally unprepared for the sheer volume of grief, and overwhelming emotions.  I started this series to help others who may be newly widowed or in the anticipatory grieving process.  It’s my fervent desire that this would encourage them and let the know there’s light at the end of the tunnel.  You can make it!

The first year of being a widow is the most difficult. You're devastated by the loss of the person you love. This series "Surviving Widowhood" addresses some things you can expect during the first year of the grieving process. This is by no means a comprehensive list!

Freedom From Abuse

When you have something that keeps repeating itself over and over again in your mind, what do you do?  Do you grab it by the throat and order it out of your life?  Do you calmly consider it’s merit, and act accordingly?  Or do you just ponder it over and over again until it’s ready to come out?   I’m not talking about repetitious thoughts of a sinful nature.  I’m not even talking about listening to our own self talk.  What I’m talking about is something you feel must eventually be either spoken or written, but you just don’t quite know how to handle it.  Because in the handling, people might get offended or hurt. 

I realize this line of thinking contributes to the reason why abused women often keep silent.  They are either 1) fearful for their lives or the lives of their loved ones; or 2) they don’t want to inflict harm on anyone because they  themselves experienced physical and emotional harm and the mental anguish it leaves in it’s wake.  This is something I wrestle with constantly.  As a formerly abused woman, it is difficult to know where to draw the line between giving helpful information or having an emotional regurgitation all over someone.  The line is a fine one.

One in three women in the United States has suffered some form of abuse during the course of their lives.  One in THREE—let that statistic sink in for a moment.  That means that either the lady sitting to the right of you or the left of you in the church pew has suffered abuse, or you yourself have at one time or another.   I once taught a class  which helped ladies who were or had been in abusive situations.  There was a common thread—and that thread was silence.  It took them a few weeks to open up about what had happened to them, and even then, it was difficult for them to speak in that safe place.  It was painful, yet it was very freeing for those ladies.  God delivered them from the bondage of silence, and it was the start of the healing process for many of them.

I am writing this today because recently there have been things brought to my attention that I feel I need to speak about.  These are not things that are particularly comfortable, but they are things which might help others who have been through situations of abuse.  It’s never an easy topic to address, but it’s one about which we must NOT be silent.  Through silence, we empower the next generation of abusers to rise up and perpetuate the injustice.   Through silence, we are minimizing our pain.  Through silence, we are carrying the burden of abuse alone.  

Whether it’s emotional, spiritual, financial, physical, or mental, it is ALL abuse.  If you are made to feel “less than” or “not enough”,  or invalidated, it is abuse.  I’m not saying that every time our feelings aren’t validated, it’s an abusive situation.  Sometimes our feelings really ARE invalid for the situation, and thank God for the healthy people in our lives who point that out to us.  We aren’t always in the right; and we NEED people who will LOVINGLY remind us of that fact.  That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about situations where we are made to feel we aren’t of worth, where our opinions aren’t encouraged, and where we cannot thrive and flourish.  Situations where we are mentally beaten down verbally, emotionally and spiritually.  Situations where we are pinched, slapped or beaten.  Situations where are denied access to finances—those types of situations.  If you are reading this, and you are in that situation or have been in that situation, I am going to drop the phone number of the National Domestic Abuse hotline at the end of this blog.  Everyone should have the right to be treated fairly, humanely, decently and lovingly.

This blog took an unexpected turn today.  I have had this on my mind for the last several weeks.  I wasn’t quite sure what God wanted me to do with this, but as usual, He helped me get through it.  I am not going to oversimplify things to those of you who have been abused.  Leaving an abusive situation is one of the most difficult things you will ever do in your life. It’s hard to rebuild your life from nothing, and I’m not gonna tell you it’s gonna be an easy road.  It won’t.  But, if you do, you have a chance for a real life—a life where your voice will be heard, a life where you won’t be silenced.  I’ve had this said to me, and I’ll bet you’ve heard it, too…”Why don’t they just leave?  They must like it.”  People who say such things are ignorant and really don’t deserve a response.  I will give them one, nonetheless.  “They don’t leave because they are terrified—terrified the abuser will kill them (because they’ve most likely been threatened with this many times).  They are terrified they can’t make it alone (because they’ve been told over and over again how stupid they are).  They are terrified they can’t provide for their children (because they haven’t been allowed to work outside the home because someone might see the bruises).  They are terrified of other people (because one wrong word could cause them a multitude of grief at home).  They are terrified in every single aspect of their lives.  Have you ever lived in that kind of terror?  If you haven’t, THEN SHUT YOUR MOUTH! You have nothing to say of value.” That’s what I would say.  Well, I guess I DID actually just say that, and I don’t apologize for it.  People who don’t understand should ask relevant questions—questions like, “What can I do to help?”  and stop throwing shade on something they don’t understand.

The good news in all this is there’s hope—hope for those who have suffered so much at the hands of others.  God loves you just the way you are…broken, lost, hurt, defeated.  He loves you, and He requires nothing of you, except that you simply come and lay your head on His lap and rest.  I have had people ask my why God allows these things to happen.  I am not going to answer that here, simply because I don’t know the answer to that question.  I do, however, know what happens when we go to Him and rest.  That’s the beginning of the healing process, and He will continue it daily.  I would encourage you to let Him help you. 

If you are in an abusive situation and would like to talk, please send me an email.  There’s hope.

Domestic Abuse Hotline 800-656-4673

#domesticabuse

#abuseisreal

#abusesurvivor

#domesticviolence

#stopdomesticviolencenow

When You Get Locked Out of Your Own Life

Living in east Tennessee this year has presented it’s own set of challenges.  Not that I’d want to live anywhere else.  This is home.   However, the amount of rainfall and flooding we have sustained has made it a challenge to find a decent day to venture outside. It has flooded so much, I’m quite certain they will have to change the flood zone mapping.  It’s been brutal.

On the one pretty day we’ve had this week, I decided I’d walk my dog.  We were both getting cabin fever.  We needed sunshine and needed it badly.  Normally, when I walk her, I have a little plastic purse thingy I hang around my neck to hold my keys and cell phone.  On this day, I decided I didn’t need my cell phone, and I grabbed the wrong set of keys.  Result…you guessed it…I was locked out of the house.  And since I take my own advice to other widows and lock my car door, I was effectively locked out of my own life for about 30 minutes. 

Luckily, I do have a benefit on my auto insurance that allows me a “get out of jail free” card—they will come unlock your car for you.  Since my garage door opener was in my car, and since I was locked out of my car as well as my home, I took advantage of that benefit.  The dog was happy to get extra time outdoors, and my neighbor brought me a chair to sit in, so Trixie and I had a good ole time waiting on the locksmith. The only thing that would’ve made it perfect was a glass of iced tea.  You can’t have everything…

Today, when I was thinking about what to write, this incident came to my mind.  We often have things —unexpected things—happen to us.  Life often hands us a check for a meal we don’t enjoy, like a snarky waiter after a bad meal.  Getting locked out of my house was NOT the worse thing that has ever happened to me by far.  But, it DID bring this to my mind—do we lock ourselves out of our own lives?  And what do we do about it when we do?

Emotionally speaking, there have been times when I feel like I’m going through the motions of life.  I’m not certain how this happens.  There are times when I discovered I’d been a little lax in some of the areas of my  life—i wasn’t reading my Bible enough (or at all), I wasn’t spending my time in prayer (they felt like they were bouncing off the ceiling), and I was getting undisciplined in just about every area of my life.  It wasn’t a huge thing, but it was a thing, nevertheless.  This was a time when I needed a life coach myself.  It wasn’t that I was involved in some type of illegal activity, like joining the mafia, going on a killing spree or blowing up a bank.  Rather, it was a cessation of being diligent to guard against the enemy of my soul.  I was locked out of my own life, because it had been hijacked—hijacked by my own rebellious nature and attitude. 

We humans love getting our way.  We love those things that aren’t good for us.  We consistently step over God’s boundary line into enemy territory.  Thank God for His mercy and grace.   For me, it was a rude awakening, because if anyone had asked me, I would’ve said everything was great.  But it wasn’t.  It was (of all things)…mundane.  I had no excitement in my spiritual life and what’s more, I didn’t particularly want any.  I allowed myself to be lulled—lullabyed into sleep.  I  looked up the word “lullaby” and the root of that word is terrifying.  It seems the word “lullaby” comes from a “lu-lu” sound used by mothers to lull their children to sleep.  It is thought to be a shortened version of “Lilith-bye”. According to legend, Lilith was an evil angel  (there’s a whole backstory there I’m not going to get into).  Mothers sang a “lilith-bye” to keep this evil angel away from their children.  It’s amazing what a quick Google search will turn up…At any rate, the word “lull” comes from “lullaby.”  That’s enough to make me skeptical of the word and it’s origin.  I don’t need lulling.  I need energizing.  I need to be Queen of my own life, and so do you you.

Once we realize we’ve been “lulled” (we could even use the word “seduced” and I don’t believe it would be inaccurate), we have an opportunity.  We have an opportunity to shake off the sleep, rise from the ashes, and galvanize ourselves with purpose.  For me, this involved a good deal of crying and contrition, straightening my shoulders, and seizing control of my own life again.  No longer would I be subject to whims.  I would set goals.  I would achieve said goals because I had a plan…a plan with which to move forward with my life…a plan to overcome obstacles.  A plan that involved God actively participating in my life as He was meant to do all along.  I don’t think I left Him behind exactly—it was more like I became boring—something I vowed NEVER to be!  And most importantly, even though I felt like I was locked out of my spiritual life, I HAD THE KEY TO THE LOCK!

The Bible is many things…never boring.  With the help of God, I am no longer locked out of my own life.  I am not longer boring, and I feel vital, vibrant and whole.  It was a process that didn’t happen overnight, and it’s a process we walk out until the day we die.  By no means do I think I have arrived at something.  It’s more like a journey…a exciting journey into the unknown with the greatest tour guide EVER leading me.  I would love to hear your journey as well.  Drop me a comment here on this page or send me an email.  I want to encourage you and walk with you, as you walk with me.  God bless, my friends!

Most of us know people who thrive on crossing our boundaries--whether it's a friend or a family member. Here are three things you can do when someone crosses the line. They're simple and effective measures you can take to help you keep yourself collected when that happens Quote taken from the book "Boundaries" by Drs.

Setting Healthy Boundaries

When I said, ‘This far you may come, but no farther, and here your proud waves must stop!’

Job 38:11 

The Lord is the ultimate boundary setter. He is the one who told the waves when to stop as they rushed to the shore. When he created the universe, he set parameters in place so there would be order in His new creation. He did not design chaos. We humans make a fine mess of God’s orderly world. We make poor decisions. We keep our stubborn ideology. We cross boundaries. 

When God set boundary markers at the foundation of the world, that was a blueprint for us...a blueprint for us to know exactly how limited we are without God’s intervention, and a blueprint for us to know how to relate to each other. We need boundaries. Left unfettered, humans are capable of anything...and I mean anything. Jails are full of people who didn’t respect the boundary lines of others. 

I blame social media for a lot of the problem. Social animals that we are, we enjoy those “likes.” We enjoy those notifications. We feel validated when we compare our “perfect” life to the lives of others. The problem with this is it isn’t real. We have crossed the boundary of reality into the land of fantasy. I will never forget this post a young man wrote about five years ago on FB. He said, “Well, going to the store.” About 30 minutes later he wrote, ”Back from the store.”  Then about 15 minutes later, he wrote, “Ate a pickle.” While this information was fascinating, I wondered if the poor chap was so lonely, he felt had to give an account of his day in order to feel connected. And that, my friends, is one of the reasons we don’t set healthy boundaries. We’re afraid of losing the connections, of not getting the “likes,” of offending someone, whether friend or family or stranger. We have become a world of connectivity, but abandoned a world of true connection. 

I am just as guilty as the next person. I am not a particularly good boundary setter. I am one of those social butterflies that enjoys the “likes.” It gives me the warm and fuzzies. However, I’ve had to learn over the years that, statistically speaking, 20 percent of the people I interact with won’t like me for no apparent reason. And an even higher percentage of our friends don’t like us, either.  Depressing, isn’t it? I don’t know what percentage of people will try to violate our boundaries, but for someone (like me) who struggles with an enabling temperament, it’s probably a high statistic. In the book, “Boundaries,” Drs. Townsend and Cloud write, “what happens when a rescuing, enabling person meets a controlling, insensitive person?  Answer:  THEY GET MARRIED!  (I will post a link below if you’d like to order this book.  I’ve read it, and it’s really good if you struggle with setting healthy boundaries).

I am writing about this today because I have had this rolling around in my heart for a little while.  I’ve wondered how many people struggle with this, and I believe the statistic would be higher than we think.  I couldn’t find any hard data on that, but I did find LOTS of data about people who don’t respect our boundaries and what to do about it.  In fact, I made a YouTube video to go along with this blog—Setting Healthy Boundaries, because I know from experience, people struggle with this. 

If we use the example in the book of Job, God wasn’t the least bit wishy-washy when it came to telling the waves how far to go.  Jesus wasn’t shy about driving the moneylenders from the temple.  And Stephen (the first recorded martyr) gave a very eloquent speech right before he died, calling people out on their lifestyles.  We have these and many other biblical examples.  I’m certain from studying the Bible that God meant for His children to live in harmony, loving one another, but He also intended for them to have respect for one another.  In this electronically driven world, we are the ones who have blurred the boundary lines.  In fact, we have blurred them to the point of non-existence.  We have winked at sin and called it tolerance.  We have blasted people on social media and called it expressing our opinion.  We have re-created God into the image of man.  Just a reminder here…the word “man” is NOT capitalized.

If you struggle with setting healthy boundaries, I would encourage you to pray and let God help you with that.  He will.  He will show you exactly what to do and how to do it.   He will guide you toward wholeness as you walk into the light of His grace.  God bless!

 Link to “Boundaries” by Dr. Henry Cloud & Dr. John Townsend:

https://amzn.to/2UvFbO9

Boundaries, Cloud, Dr. Henry and Townsend, Dr. John. Copyright 1992, published by Zondervan, Grand Rapida, MI, 49530.

#lifecoachinglesons #lifecoachingforeveryone #boundaries #settingboundaries #dontstop #whatsstoppingyou #bethechange

Faith In Crisis Mode

Who hasn’t had a crisis of faith? Has anyone rested completely in the Lord every.single.day of their lives? I know I haven’t. I regularly have bouts of insecurity, doubt and outright disbelief. I can totally relate to the prayer, “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.”

Most recently, my unbelief crept into my mind on Sunday morning when I was trying to sing and focus on praising the Lord. And I was sitting IN CHURCH! At first, it was just a little nagging thought, something like, “I don’t really like this song. I’m not sure it’s Scriptural...” like I am the expert of every verse in the Bible. From there, the little voice in my head went on to ask creepy questions, like “Do you really believe what you’re singing?” And “I don’t even know if I need to be here today. I’m tired and I want a pizza.” From there, my musings took a darker turn...”Did Jesus really die on the cross? You know there’s no physical evidence of that.” To “why don’t you just give up? This is too hard. You need to just leave this Christianity  business to the experts and stop trying.” To even “maybe I’ll just become an atheist.”

To those of you who’ve never had such thoughts, well..bless your heart. I wouldn’t say I have them often, but I have them frequently enough that it disturbs me when I do. I wonder how on earth I allow myself to entertain such nonsense. I wonder how I let the insidious voice of the enemy speak to me in such a fashion, and what’s worse, why in the name of all that’s  holy do I agree with him? This is something that bothers me.

I am grateful for this: When these thoughts come (and they always do if you live in this world), we have the calm assurance of our freedom...freedom from doubt, from fear, from despair. We have the freedom that comes with honoring God, not because we are something, but because He is everything! Our freedom was purchased at an enormous cost. I can never live up to that. I can, however, try. I can attempt to walk in the Light of God’s Word. I can attempt to love others. I can attempt to silence the enemy when he comes whispering in my ears with his lies. I have power because I am a child of God. I don’t have to listen. Because when I do, I give up my power and relinquish it into the hands of the enemy of my soul.

I have a hand grenade. The pin is pulled. All I have to do is lob it in the general direction of the devil. The weapon does the rest. The weapon is God’s Word. If we know that, we know everything we need to know about how to live. Even as I write this, I am bombarded with an image from the movie, “Monty Python and the Holy Grail”...the part where one of the knights said, “Bring out  the holy hand grenade.” See? Even why I try to write a metaphor...my twisted sense of humor gets the best of me.  I started to just delete the hand grenade part, but then, when I thought about it a little more, why should I? It’s a doggone good metaphor. Just because my mind has images of men galloping on imaginary horses clapping coconuts together, doesn’t make it any less meaningful. Or does it? I’ll let you decide...

So herein lies the rub...I know my mind does not attune itself to things like most people. I often think (and sometimes actually SAY) things that have me raising a mental eyebrow at myself. I am a firm believer, however, that God Himself places His laughter in each of His children. He doth haveth a sense of humor.  The point of this blog today is this: Thoughts are gonna come. Whether we think them ourselves, or whether they’re planted there by the devil is really irrelevant. The real question is what are we gonna do about it? Are we gonna let them conquer us or are we gonna conquer them? I refuse to be a slave to my thoughts or anyone else’s. Instead, I’m gonna take those thoughts and replace them with an image of Truth...and the power of that Truth will ambush and explode those evil thoughts with the power of a hand grenade, or even a bomb. I have realized it’s okay to think like Elaine. It’s okay to compare God’s power to a holy hand grenade. It’s relatable, and I understand it better. And I laugh at the devil in the process. I am NOT going crazy. I am merely Elaine. God bless, my friends!

If you’d like to take a look at my ebook, “Lord, Am I Going Crazy”, it’s available on the ‘Services’ page of this website.

This is the closest image I could find to a hand grenade. To me, it represents both the hand grenade and the confusion that tries to cloud our thinking.

Surviving Widowhood

I am never again reading a sad post about death or widowhood.  I have several widows I follow on Instagram, and I sense a common thread...they all post about how we widows never get over the death of a spouse, and how we will be sad for the remainder of our lives.

Well...NO!  I refuse to accept that. I am NOT going to live  the rest of my days pining for a life I no longer have. That’s not mentally, emotionally or spiritually healthy. I’m not even sure it’s physically healthy.

I’m not saying for us widows to forget our spouses and not mourn their passing. Of course we mourn. Of course it’s devastating. Of course we don’t forget.  I am in no way whatsoever minimizing grief or the grieving process. It’s a continual process we widows undergo for the rest of our lives. But the belief that we somehow stop living just because we are widows goes against every fiber of my being. I am not “less than” because my husband died. I am actually “more than” because My relationship with Jesus changed. Isaiah 54:5 says “For your Maker is your husband...” And because of this, I refuse to believe I am somehow marginalized because my husband died. I am still “enough”, and my life can and will be productive again. I am not dead.

I saw a little sign in a boutique that read something like “Every time you see a red bird, your loved one is visiting you from heaven.” This made me mad and here’s why: 1) First of all, if my late husband were somehow allowed to contact me, I doubt that’s the form he would take. More likely, if he had the choice, he would pick the form of a football player or a nascar driver. I’m just keeping it real here. For me to believe he would somehow zap his spirit into a cardinal goes against everything I know to be true about Greg Jackson.  2) Secondly, while it may be comforting for us to think about our loved ones watching over us, they are NOT our guardian angels. Angels are beings that were created by God a millennium ago, and they are not spirits of our dearly departed. Sorry if this is contrary to anyone’s belief system, but it’s the truth. Now, having said that, I DO believe that our loved ones may possibly have occasion to look into our lives and see us, especially if it’s an extraordinary set of circumstances.  The fact is this: Our spouses are gone from this earth. They are in a far better place than we are. Why would they want to return? 3) Signs like this red bird thing perpetuate the victim mentality, and actually make it more difficult to move forward with our lives if we hold on to that way of thinking. When I first lost my husband, I was so grief-stricken, exhausted and just plain lost, I could barely function. People would sympathize, soothe me with comforting words, and look at me with pity. Those comforts were vital to my recovery...for a while. BUT...at some point, and here’s where it gets tricky, there is a fine line between sympathy and enabling. At some point, if we want to lead full, productive lives, we have to wipe the tears from our eyes, set our faces like flint and let God lead us out of the valley of the shadow of death. I am speaking from experience:  The warm, fuzzy feeling when we get sympathy is addicting. It can become almost like a drug. We become dependent on it. And we are not even aware of it. If you have read things like this red bird thing, and it brings comfort to you as a widow or widower, that’s fine. Take it. But for goodness sakes, just know that your loved one is not , nor ever will be, a bird. I think the reason this upset me so much is that people believe these kinds of things and take comfort from something that’s just not real. Our comfort comes from God alone in these troubled times, not channeling Woody Woodpecker, Robin Red Breast, or any other feathered creature. I mean, if I’m gonna imagine Greg coming back as any sort of animal, it would be a sea turtle—those things live forever, and I’d never have to worry about burying a husband again since those things live to be 120 years old. This is a very real concern once you’ve lived through the death of a spouse once already. Somehow, though, I don’t think a sea turtle would pull on our heart strings as much as a cardinal...which is precisely the point. These things are marketed to the grieving because we are seeking anything to help us through the darkest hours of our lives.

I am not writing these things to be harsh, dear brothers and sisters. I am writing these things to help with the grieving process. Widows often feel guilty for moving on with their lives because they are made to feel they’re forgetting their late husbands if they laugh or go out somewhere enjoyable. Well-meaning friends and family members may not understand your emotions, but they can be very quick to criticize if they feel you’re making progress toward wellness or you just seem a little “too happy.” These types of people are the ones to avoid. Only you know how slowly or how quickly you need to move. It’s between you and God. Don’t let anyone set a timeline for you in your grieving process. No one has earned that right except YOU!

I know some of you struggle with grief recovery. I hope this helps. These are feelings I have had over the last five years since Greg passed away. My experience is not your experience. And it doesn’t have to be. Your experience may (and quite possibly WILL) be different. And that’s as it should be.

Knowing Truth

  This isn’t going to be a comfortable blog. It’s honest,  and it’s raw. No ears will get tickled, nor will egos get stroked. Truth, however, will be spoken and feelings and emotions encouraged.

I started this blog in order to encourage, inspire and lead, and help others do the same. I have learned, over time, that people sometimes do not want to hear truth. People want what makes them feel validated, even if it’s incorrect. It’s part of the human condition, and something I fervently wish I was totally free from. I am, nevertheless, human. I feel it as well, and let’s face it...who doesn’t want to feel they’re right in their thinking? There’s something rousingly invigorating about having a sense of “correctness.” It soothes the conscience and eases the mind. I am not convinced, however, this is the way God intends for us to live!

First Corinthians 1:4 states, “He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others.” We are not called to comfortable lives. We are called to step away from our respective “comfort zones” and take a risk in comforting others. What are we gonna do about it?

We view Truth incorrectly, we humans. We think we see it as a shining beacon, something faithful, just and true, liberating the hostage from bondage, setting free the wretched refuse and all that. That’s what Truth actually does. And we say we believe that because we’re  Christians, and we’re supposed to say that.  It is fantasy for us to think we actually believe that. In reality, most of us do not want Truth. Because in order to get to pure, unadulterated Truth, the journey is a messy, emotional, rocky and often dangerous one. And who wants to travel THAT road?

Here’s a prime example: (I am using fake names and this circumstance is TOTALLY fictitious) Lulu discovers Barbie’s husband is cheating on her. Lulu tells Barbie. Barbie now has information she wishes she didn’t know, because it’s painful. Barbie gets angry at Lulu for telling her and goes into denial. Friendship broken.

Lulu vows never to speak up again. (“And so it goes until the day we die...love stinks...” At least according to J. Geils Band)

See how easy that was? I could give a hundred other examples, but you get the idea. I’ll bet on any given day, we could’ve asked Barbie if she was a fan of Truth and she would have batted her eyes, swept back her long blonde hair and replied, “Totally.” At least Malibu Barbie would’ve. In all honesty, we are NOT a fan of Truth if it makes us uncomfortable. We are a fan of Truth when it validates our position or fits our agenda. Or makes us comfortable.

The Word of God is definitely not a comfortable book. If we read it and perceive no conviction of sin or leading of the Holy Spirit, we are reading it wrong. It is, in fact, a constant call to get out of our comfort levels and move with the Lamb. I know this is very blunt. Still, I promised no ears would get tickled, so I cannot apologize for Truth. I can only write what I perceive and know from experience to be Truth, not what I think might be a little more palatable. However, my faith in God and in you good people who read this blog is immense. I know you guys are seekers of Truth, or you wouldn’t be reading what basically amounts to a call to arms. Because now comes the hard part...again, what are we gonna do about it?

Knowing the Truth will set us free. It’s the most liberating thing in this world or the next. How are we gonna use that Truth and apply it to our lives and the lives of others? That’s the million dollar question, as my Dad used to say.

A word of caution, my friends...please, please do NOT take this blog and use it an an excuse to speak your mind or air an opinion just because you feel somehow vindicated after reading this. That’s not the purpose of this, and everything we do must above all else be tempered with LOVE! If we can’t speak to Barbie with love, we need to remain silent and pray. A lost art, that, and one we need to revive. So there’s my disclaimer. Take it to heart.

Where do we start? We start small. We start with one step. And we start with ourselves. We learn Truth about ourselves and maybe, just maybe once we take the plank out of our own eyes we can help remove the toothpicks from our brothers. God bless!

Life After Death

I watched a documentary today about Mark Chapman, the man who killed John Lennon. I can still remember where I was when I heard the news on the radio. I was pregnant with my daughter, standing in the kitchen. The radio announcer was obviously holding back tears. You could hear it in his voice.

Other than being a Beatles fan, I don’t know why I’m watching this today. There’s nothing I’ve not heard before. Yet, here I sit...fascinated by the account yet again. I look at Mark Chapman and I’m angry. Angry because he robbed another generation of the melodies of my youth. John Lennon would never compose another song, sing another note, or reunite with the rest of the Fab Four for a reunion concert. With four shots, he killed a voice of my generation, and even though he has since shown some semblance of remorse, the fact that he silenced the voice of a modern-era hero makes that point moot.

This blog isn’t going where I intended it to go. I was planning on writing something else, but maybe we need to pause here for just a minute and step back in time and see what we can learn from this event today...1) No matter how big a star, eventually that star will fade. There will come a time when they will leave this world. One way or the other, there’s nothing that can be done to stop it. We are all gonna die someday.  2) Death is unexpected. It steals those we love and admire. It respects no one.  3) No matter which form death takes, those left behind are devastated. As devastating as John Lennon’s death was at that particular time in history, it pales in comparison to the times we view death up close and personal.

I’m sitting at home with a wicked sinus infection, tanked up on medication, so maybe that’s why my thoughts are turning grim. Much as I loved John Lennon’s music, and as much as I knew about John Lennon the man, I did not know him personally. And even though his death profoundly affected me to the point of tears, I never wiped his fevered brow when he had a temperature from chemotherapy. I never had late night conversations with him about life and death. I never held his hand and told  him it was going to be all right. And even though John Lennon died, I didn’t watch him take his last breath, dress him in clothes so his last journey wouldn’t have to be in a hospital gown, or kiss his head one last time. I never did those things for John Lennon. That was Yoko Ono’s job. And in watching this documentary, I feel a strange kinship with her. We are members of the same club. In totally different ways, we both watched our husbands die right before our eyes.

We humans need to realize one thing above all others...Life is short. And we have no idea how short until we go through a tragedy. When Mark Chapman shot John Lennon in front of the Dakota, he robbed us. When cancer killed my husband, it robbed me. When God gave His Son in exchange for our sin, humanity gained back that which was formerly lost. That’s the thing that gives us hope. In the midst of grief, we have hope. Hope that this life is not the end for our loved ones. Hope that one day, we will see them again. And even more than hope, knowledge that because God’s Word is pure Truth, we are assured of a reunion of epic proportions.

I have no idea of the state of John Lennon’s soul at the time of his death. That’s not my business to speculate. I am, however, hopeful. With my late husband, I don’t have to speculate. I am not only hopeful. I am assured. And in that assurance comes rest and peace. God bless.

The Fussy Baby

I had the pleasure of babysitting my two grandsons this week. Let me just say right now for the record...they are the most wonderful humans on the face of this planet. This statement is not up for debate.  

Grandson Number 1 is an eight year old and Grandson Number 2 is a 6 month old. just enough age difference to be...interesting. For some reason, Grandson Number 2 was fussy. I tried feeding, rocking, patting, burping, and singing. My singing abilities are limited to “Beautiful Boy” by John Lennon or “Hey Lawdy Momma” by Steppenwolf. No wonder the kid was upset. Nothing I did soothed him. He continued to fret, wiggle and whine. 

When I finally found something he liked enough to stop crying (it was laying in the floor with him, sticking my tongue out and going “booga, booga, booga”...yeah...go figure), the little rascal had worn me out. I was tired, and by then, I was the one ready for a nap.  

I wonder if we ever sound that way to God? I have said some pretty awful things to Him over the years. Did I sound like the fussy baby? Did I make Him want to pull the hair out of His beard (well, figuratively speaking. Don’t we all imagine God with a white beard, though?) Did I wear both myself and God out with the sound of my relentless whine?  I am grateful He has more patience that I do. 

God has never sang Steppenwolf to me. Nor has He ever said, “booga booga booga.” He has done something much better than that. You see, me doing those things to soothe Grandson Number 2 were only a temporary fix. He will cry again and, in fact, he started crying as soon as I stopped. But when God wipes away those tears, He brings something eternal with Him—His Son, Jesus. And while I may cry again, He never leaves  me. He moves into our hearts and stays there and makes His home there. And when He calms our cries, we can take comfort in the fact that He will always be with us when we cry. He never puts us down. He never goes into the kitchen to fix us a bottle. He never closes His eyes when we nap. He gives us something better than a pacifier. He gives us Himself. He will bear our burdens for us, fight for us, sing over us, guard us, help us, and most of all—love us. 

May we be comforted with His love and mercy every day we live. May that comfort be more satisfying than a mother (or in my case, a Grammie) holding her child lovingly in her arms.