tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58346387161472792662024-02-08T15:43:55.853-05:00CornFreeLifeRebekah... Essentially I'm a...
Jesus Freak. Wife. Homeschooling mom. Friend. Sister. Daughter. American, with a passion for the people of Zambia. Photographer. doTERRA Wellness Advocate. Corn allergy sufferer. Former Cherry Coke addict. Coffee... good.Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-48593193562794199102016-09-15T14:14:00.001-04:002016-09-15T14:15:00.494-04:00Someone's destruction<div data-contents="true">
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<span data-offset-key="flphj-0-0"><span data-text="true">Imagine with me...</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="dkhdn-0-0"><span data-text="true">You're in a relationship with Someone. You spend time with them, sometimes four or five times a day, hours at a time. Sometimes your interactions are simple. Sometimes they're deep and complex, leaving you deeply satisfied down to your soul. Their existence keeps you going. They've been around your entire life. Your parents, grandparents, spouse, friends, and family, all share the same relationship with Someone. It's easy to love Someone who treats you so well and keeps you alive.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1rkdo-0-0"><span data-text="true">Now imagine that Someone starts hurting you, destroying you from the inside out. At first you tell yourself it isn't that Someone. It's someone else, anyone else, because Someone is in every part of your life to an extent. But then eventually you realize you can no longer ignore the painful destruction. Some days you can't get out of bed because of your interaction with Someone. Tears overtake you in waves because the pain is too much. You begin changing how you see them because you're tired of being hurt. You still have to interact with Someone though, even briefly, every single day because they are everywhere. There's no safety, even at home. There's safer, but nowhere completely safe from Someone. You reduce your interactions, as much as possible, but Someone keeps sneaking back in because you forgot to check every single door, window, air vent, pipe, crack, and crevice, then realizing you have to continually check those things... over and over and over... because Someone keeps changing the game. Thinking about your interactions causes anxiety because you just want to not be hurt anymore. Just once, maybe. You don't want another mark on your face, another punch in the gut, another kick to the groin. Remembering the repeated pain causes you depression. Before every interaction, there's a cycle of questions. How much am I already hurting from Someone? How much did they hurt me last time we interacted that way? Remember, you have to interact with Someone or you will die. So you start constantly weighing with a scale in your mind that is all yours to see and carry. Nobody else sees the pain quite the way you do because they're not inside your body or inside your head. Loved ones try, but Someone doesn't hurt them the way he/she hurts you. Someone tells you they think you're crazy, that you're all alone, even while your loved ones tell you otherwise. Remember, you've been around Someone more times than any of your loved ones, so Someone's words seem truer in your damaged soul. </span></span><span data-offset-key="1rkdo-0-0"><span data-text="true">You're
constantly exhausted from how quickly your mind has to move, always
aware of Someone's location and where he/she might decide to sneak in
this time. </span></span><span data-offset-key="1rkdo-0-0"><span data-text="true">You look around and very rarely, but occasionally, you hear someone call out from their own painful interactions, "I hear you. I see you. I get it. You're not alone. Don't believe Someone when they lie to you that way. This isn't your fault. This is all Someone's fault." They're living through their own hell though, trying to figure out how to escape the control of Someone and the physical and emotional damage that has wreaked havoc on their bodies, hearts, and souls.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1rkdo-0-0"><span data-text="true">For me... Someone is food. Food allergies. Food sensitivities. Food. The very thing that is needed to keep me alive is trying to kill me. My loved ones are incredibly patient with me, but they don't have to live in this hell I didn't create. They hold my hands, they wipe my tears, they listen to my pain, but they can't take it away. They can't make it stop. I didn't ask for this. I don't want this. It's been a lifelong battle, even though it has only recently gotten named. I'm constantly begging God to take away my food issues or take me home to be with Him. There has never been anything more isolating in my entire life. I keep hearing the words of Paul in 2 Corinthians 5, verses 7b- 9 "</span></span>Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.<span class="p"> </span>Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made
perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about
my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.<span class="p">" So, while Satan keeps trying to attack me, to keep me home, in my safest place, I'm going to keep cutting off the chains he's shackling me with while I can. I'm going to keep going out and doing the things God has called me to do- LOVE PEOPLE. I will put on the smile, through the pain, when I can. I will laugh. I will cry. I will pray about my attitude when someone cracks jokes about all the things I can't eat, knowing that most people just don't know how to deal with allergies of my level. I will keep asking those around me to do what they can to keep me safe, by reducing the allergens they bring to me. I will keep asking God to take this away, every single day, until the day He does finally call me home. And when I get there, there'd better be homebaked corn bread with extra butter and honey and a big old cherry pie a la mode.</span></div>
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Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-39709785201942322662014-06-13T09:11:00.000-04:002015-12-09T10:06:57.920-05:00I just want to be normal...I just want to be normal. I don't want a long list of dietary requirements. I want to pick something up that looks good and put it in my mouth... without fear of headaches, stomach aches, nausea... you get the idea. Normal.<br />
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I continued my elimination diet for two weeks. No dairy, gluten, soy, eggs, peanuts, or corn. Every day fighting with the world we live in and the people I love, over what food I was going to put in my mouth. Actually, if I'm completely honest, the real battle was with myself. Every day an exhausting battle of wills, except that it was my own issues causing <b>me </b>to be the whining toddler throwing herself on the floor because the offering laid before me at supper wasn't good enough. It wasn't the western diet I've come to know and love. It didn't come from a box. Or a drive thru. It wasn't easy or instant. Stupid instant gratification mindset. It was HARD. Well, hard compared to what I perceived as normal, which I've learned is so not normal compared to the rest of the world. But I digress... So, I did this elimination thing. I took some meds from doTerra for gut healing, specifically killing all the bad bacteria in my gut (GXAssist followed by probiotics). And guess what? <b>I was still having my typical reactions!</b> I still had gastric upset and bloating, crazy itchy face, sometimes with little bumps that looked a lot like acne but went away by morning. Plus being tired. I did lose six pounds. But other than that... the pain and the emotional exhaustion from being weird was overwhelming. I cried every single night. So, I went back to normal food. Well, my revised version of normal. And I called my doctor because there's something else going on here. My primary referred me to an allergist and I go next week to get allergy testing. I've read that food allergies are hard to test for, but maybe it's not food. I don't even know what to think about food anymore.<br />
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On a random, slightly related note... Last week I began reading Jen Hatmaker's book "7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess." The basic idea is she examined seven areas of excess in her life as an American and went on intentional fast in each of those seven areas individually for a month. Chapter one was about food. And I wanted to throw the book and have another tantrum, but I stuck it out. Because here's the thing, I don't <i>want </i>to be difficult. I <i>want </i>to be normal. To be accepted. At the same time, I know normal in America is a very broken person. Normal in America is excessively overweight because of our reliance on drive thrus and boxed meals filled with chemicals that were created in a chemistry lab, along with sitting on our backsides for the majority of the day. Our children are the first generation with a shorter life expectancy than us, their parents, because of the obesity epidemic. Normal in America is dysfunctional. We fight with the people under our own roof, while paying loads of attention to our online friends. Don't get me wrong, I love my online friends, but they're not my family and shouldn't be my top priority. I would never invite 400 human beings into my livingroom and expect to get any real relationships built, but I do it every single day when I open my Facebook feed 50 times to see who shared what. In America, we spend money we don't have on things we don't need, while other people all over the world, including right down the street, go without basic necessities. We put airbrushed, unrealistic people on huge posters and billboards everywhere we look, but then wonder why no one thinks they're beautiful. In America, we spout our diatribes about equality and acceptance, but continue to stereotype people by their labels. It doesn't matter which label. People are more than the sum of their labels. We're killing ourselves with comparison. KILLING OURSELVES! The rest of the world is watching this happen, waiting for America to implode on itself.<br />
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BUT... there's a rebellion going on. A rebellion I want to be a part of. A rebellion against excess and towards simplicity. A rebellion against chemically engineered food and towards real food, the food our grandparents ate when they were young. A rebellion against taking handfuls of pills every day and towards natural healing through supplements and essential oils whenever possible. A rebellion against showing off our bodies and towards modesty, out of respect for ourselves and the people we love. I can love my body without sharing it with the world. A rebellion against comparison and towards being appreciated and loved as an individual. A broken, desperate, trying to find their way in a big scary world, individual. A rebellion in the Christian church that says we do what God taught us out of love, not out of fear. <i>Perfect love casts out fear... Love God, Love People... </i>A focus on our own shortcomings first, instead of everyone else's. Where we pick each other up when we fall, not throw another rock at the wounded. Where we whisper gently about a God who loves us without conditions, enough to die for us, enough to change us, and clean us up. That's the rebellion I want to be a part of. Even if it means I will never be normal.<br />
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Fighting the good the fight... the fight that's got eternal glory... not temporary ease. Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-55623656677661911822012-03-10T21:01:00.000-05:002012-03-10T21:01:53.511-05:00The Mustard SeedThe scripture is popular. I even have it on my desktop of my computer. Matthew 17:20 speaks of having the faith of a mustard seed. It says if we have such faith we can move mountains. I don't know about you but there are plenty of mountains in my own life. The mountains of depression, doubt, pain, overeating, laziness, etc are just a few I can think of at this moment.<br />
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But how many times do we actually stop to think about that little mustard seed of Faith?<br />
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Our faith is compared to that little mustard seed. A seed that is so small it would be missed and looked over among other greats like the sunflower and cucumber. But it grows into a full grown tree... BUT it takes somethings to make that seed grow. We can't just leave a seed to itself and expect it to blossom. If we leave a seed alone it remains dormant, asleep, just like our faith. We have to DO SOMETHING with that seed.<br />
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It takes three basic things to get a seed to grow. And I believe that these three things can be translated into three things we need for our faith to grow and blossom into the mountain moving faith we want it to be.<br />
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#1... Water. Pretty simple. But a seed needs water. And we, as believer in Christ, need His Living Water. In John 4 Jesus is speaking with the woman at the well. In verse 10 we read, "Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you <b>living</b> <b>water</b>.” Jesus, a relationship with Him, is our living water. Pretty simple. Have a relationship with Christ (a relationship that you are seeking after Him) and you will be given living water.<br />
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#2... Light. Again... simple enough. Plants need sunlight to grow. We need the Light of the World to grow our faith. In Matthew 5:14 we are called to be the light of the world. In order to be that light though we have to stay connected to the source of all light... Jesus. <br />
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#3.... Here's where it gets tricky. Dirt. Yep. Good old dirt or soil. Now you're probably asking how I can turn that into a scriptural reference for Jesus. Truth is, I can't. Jesus isn't the dirt. Jesus is anything but the dirt. WE ARE THE DIRT. Our lives, the "stuff" that God allows... THAT'S the dirt. The trials, the tribulations, the things that happen and leave us shaking our head... it's all dirt. The junk that makes us wonder if God is really there, if He remembers our names... it's all dirt. The dirt is what really gets our faith to grow. Our faith grows in the muck and mire of life... not in the happy go lucky, ain't life dandy times.<br />
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A seed soaked in water will grow but not thrive or reproduce without dirt. A seed left in the light, without dirt and water, will only burn up. <br />
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You see, God hasn't forgotten you. He does love you. He uses the dirt in life to grow us into His image, the image of His glorious son, who came and died for us. He is giving you the dirt that you need to grow. None of us asks for more dirt, but in His wisdom He knows just how much dirt we need. And sometimes, we shake all the dirt off and try to get clean on our own. And those are the times God is going to give us more dirt. He wants to be sure that we grow in His name. Not on our own. On our own we can't grow. Just like a seed can't grow without the sun, light and dirt. So embrace your dirt. Love the dirt. Roll around in it. Rub it on your face and look up to the One who sees you, even in the dirt, and loves you anyway.<br />
<span class="keywordresultextras"></span>Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-85039851614188100752010-01-20T17:20:00.003-05:002010-01-20T17:55:55.080-05:00The daughter of a murdered fatherI know. Not the happiest of titles, but I'm afraid my random thoughts might not be happy either.<br /><br />Today my brother got a letter from the Florida parole board explaining that in September 2011 the man who killed our father almost twenty two years ago will be up for parole. Today has been a blur since that news was shared. We were told a long time ago that if we wanted to make sure he stayed in prison that all we had to do was write a letter to the parole board. But it leaves me asking, Why write the letter?<br /><br />Who am I that I should decide the fate of a man who made a stupid mistake? (He got scared during a robbery and pulled the trigger.) Yes, I think we need to pay for our mistakes. Yes, I think people who commit murder should go to prison. I don't think he should spend the rest of his life in jail though. He's already spent over half his life there. Do I deserve freedom anymore than him? How many times have I driven too fast, or pushed my car through the light that was a little too red? How many times have I been behind the wheel after drinking something? Or how many times have I blacked out from drinking? The answer doesn't matter because ONE time is too many.<br /><br />Through my relationship with Christ I have learned to forgive the man, Keith Minor. A few years ago, maybe seven, I felt the conviction on my heart to write him and share my beliefs and my forgiveness. None of us ever deserves grace or forgiveness. It is only through the One who paid it all for all that any of us receive grace. And it's our job as believers to pass that on to those who have hurt us. The Lord's prayer makes it pretty simple "Forgive us as we have forgiven others." Why is the God of the universe going to forgive us of so much when we are unable to forgive so little. God doesn't have a rating for sins the way humans do. Me drinking too much even one time is the same in His eyes as Keith Minor killing my father. Through that letter a line of communication was opened. He is truly sorry for what he did, not just because it has cost him so much, but genuinely sorry. I still have that first letter. We wrote back and forth for a couple years. He shared with me a lot of the pain of his past and his anger with God over the death of his own parents. (His father killed his mother and then committed suicide on a Sunday morning as Keith was getting himself ready for church.) I also sent him a bible and asked him to read it, starting in the New Testament. He was hesitant because of his anger with God but told me he would anyway basically because he had nothing better to do. One of the last letters I received shared with me that he had become a believer and received Christ's free gift of salvation. I don't know where his walk is, but I do know that the same Holy Spirit that occupies me also occupies him. I know that God has given him a second chance, just like he's given me, even if society isn't ready for that. And if Jesus can forgive the men who took His life shouldn't I be able to do the same for the man who took my father?<br /><br />But then the other side of me yells inside. He took my Daddy. Twenty two years ago I lost one of the most amazing men I will ever know. He robbed my Daddy of seeing my high school graduation, welcoming my first serious crush into the house before going out for the evening, walking me down the aisle at my wedding, seeing his grandchildren born. I've lost twenty two years of laughing and watching Bears and Cubs games. I've lost out on fixing things. He would have loved my Mustang. He would probably be helping me right now with the little projects that are over my head around the house... the leaky faucet in the bathroom, the electrical box that needs repaired. He was an amazing man of God and where I've gotten my heart for serving God. He knew that as a believer service was a privilege and responsibility, not an obligation. My children, nieces, nephews and even my baby sister, don't know my father as anything more than a picture that sits on top of my entertainment center with the flag from his coffin. They know that's where Martin got his name. They know the story of how he died. But they've been robbed of a Grandpa. And if my Dad was such an amazing daddy, how much better would he be at being a Grandpa whose soul job is spoiling and fun?<br /><br />I think what it comes down to is this, no matter who writes a letter, how long he sits in jail, whether he received the death penalty or life in prison... no matter what else happens, no one, NO ONE, can bring my father back to me or my family. And if it can't do that, then what's the point?Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-14402888828644412502010-01-17T19:03:00.002-05:002010-01-17T19:28:34.925-05:00Coke FreeSo I've been Coke free for a full week. In one week I've learned a lot about myself, but more about the people around me. I feel like an addiction is an addiction. Anything that takes us away from our fullness in Christ is an addiction. Anything we yearn for more than Him and His Will is an addiction. Somehow though, people think I'm kidding when I say that I've given up Coke because of this. I've been offered Coke countless times this week. And most of the time it has been by people in my life who follow it with, it's "JUST ONE Coke." I can't seem to make people understand my feelings on it. It's almost embarassing. No, it is embarassing. I feel like they think I'm a joke, or that this whole thing is a joke. How can I make people see that I want to be closer to Christ and want to remove all obstacles on that journey.Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-26531081505531024332009-08-03T08:59:00.004-04:002009-08-03T09:33:21.681-04:00Sharing on ZambiaI spoke at my church yesterday about my mission trip to Zambia. I was given just a few minutes to answer some questions about the trip and what God accomplished through us. I shared about everything that I could in the short time. If you've asked me about Zambia since I've gotten home you know I will talk your arm and ears off, so getting my thoughts down to 5-7 minutes was a real struggle.<br /><br />Anyway, I spoke on the positive aspects of Zambia, the things that are in the control of each individual. They have such a hunger for God and fellowship with Him and His people. They will sit for hours on Sunday mornings, after walking for hours to get there. Yes, I said walking. They also have such a joy for God. Jesus said that it would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. I know the reason now. We have so much that we don't think we need God. As Americans we are the richest people in the world. Even the poorest people in our country, the people who bust their butts for minimum wage, are among the richest people in the world. They have pure joy for the Lord. You can see the joy in the eyes of the people that really "get" it. I'm actually jealous of their joy and have started praying to have that kind of joy for Jesus.<br /><br />The negative things were the things the people of Zambia could not control individually. Polygamy is still legal there. In a country that admits that 25% of their population is HIV positive you would think step one would be outlawing polygamy. Instead women are still treated as property. They have a wife for cooking, a wife for cleaning and another for those "extra" duties. Women have no voice and no rights there. Another thing they don't have control over is their financial situation. The minimum wage in Zambia is the equivalent of $300... a YEAR! They live in small one room huts-no electric, no plumbing, no seperate rooms for each kid, no cable, no AC, no Italian tile flooring or granite counter tops. They cook outside over a fire, or sometimes in a cooking hut. (These look like what we think of when we hear Tiki huts.) And because of their income they eat only sheema. I've compared it to poor man's grits. Imagine grits, with no salt, butter, cheese or any type of spices. They eat that for three meals a day. Sometimes they have meat that they can dip it in, sometimes they have vegetables. Otherwise, it's just sheema.<br /><br />After talking about all of this I talked about <a href="http://www.globalsamaritans.org">Global Samaritans</a> and the outreach they do. They run the orphanage there that we stayed at. We have 50-60 children. (I honestly lost count because we got some new kids while we were there.) The majority of children are orphans of the AIDS crisis. Some of the kids though have been taken away from their parents. One of the girls, Catherine, is a one of the most beautiful girls I have met in my entire life. Her mother sold her into prostitution when she was around 8 years old. She realized how wrong this was and went to social services. She was thankfully taken away from her mother. She has the joy of the Lord I was talking about earlier. She knows Jesus loves her and that radiates through all she does. I also spoke about Joe, the little boy that my husband and I are going to sponsor. We don't have a lot of money. In face, by American standards we're really poor. We have four children and he's a lower enlisted in the Army. We're making sacrifices though to sponsor this little boy and another little boy through <a href="http://www.worldvision.org">World Vision</a>. Through Global Samaritans we pay $30 a month for Joe's care. That $30 a month feeds him, clothes him, shelters him, educates him in God's way and gives him medical care. We can choose to change the life of a little boy for what it costs for our family to go out to a cheap place, once. We are choosing to help this boy and sacrificing eating out, something we as Americans do too much anyway. I also spoke of the other boys that still need sponsors, since new children showed up while we were there. These boys don't have sponsors yet. I "thought" that people would be willing to sacrifice a little to change the life of one boy for eternity. Only one person came to speak to me after though. She said she needed to talk to her husband after getting the details. One of the boys was sponsored, by someone in my life who is on Disability and has a very, very limited income. She was willing to sacrifice, while the people driving the brand new cars, looking at their watches to see when it would be time to go to get their own lunch at the restaurant of their choosing, were not willing to sacrifice. It is so hard to not be frustrated. And angry. I'm praying for God to change the hearts of His people. I guess it really is easier for that camel to make it through the eye of a needle. If for whatever reason you feel led to sponsor a child please send me a message for more information. I'm not going to stop until I have found the sponsors God has for these boys.Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-11312354676219634272009-07-19T21:31:00.003-04:002009-07-19T21:50:02.739-04:00My little mustard seed<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We hear all the time about how we should have the faith of a mustard seed. Just the faith of a little seed and we can move mountains. (Matthew 17:20 ) So many times though, our faith sits, stagnant and doesn't grow.<br /><br />I've just returned from Zambia, Africa. That has been my biggest step of faith ever. While I was preparing for my trip I kept praying about that faith of a mustard seed. "Lord, help me overcome my unbelief." (Mark 9:24) I knew I was going to a volatile place and knew I had to be on my A-game. No second guessing once I got there. Zambia has forever changed me, just like I was told it would. The people will forever be in my thoughts and prayers, even if I don't know if I'll see them again this side of heaven. For a long time I've been growing my fruits of the spirit but could never find my joy because of past hurts. But now, I have found my joy and I am swimming in the sea of that joy.<br /><br />Back to the mustard seed, we always hear about that seed. How just a little faith and we can move the mountains in our lives. But have you ever thought about what it means to be a seed? Or the faith of a seed? Ask any gardener, if you sit a seed, any seed, in a jar, up on a shelf, it will do nothing. When we let our faith sit, it will do nothing. No growing. In order for our faith to grow, we as seeds, have to be planted and guess what, WE HAVE TO GET DIRTY! We can't grow our faith sitting in our living rooms, in our fake plastic lives and expect our faith to grow. We have to put ourselves out there- in the dirt of life, in the "fertilizer," in order to have any chance of growing. The more dirt, the better that seed is going to grow. Put a seed in a small pot, with dirt, on your porch, it can only grow so big. Put the same seed in your backyard, add some living water, and bam! Instead of a small plant you now have a tree. We have to get dirty. In order for our faith to grow, to where God wants our faith to grow, there has to be dirt.<br /><br />So where's the dirt in your life? What is your comfort zone that you're sitting in, making excuses for your faith not growing? Are you sitting in that plastic life and complaining because you just don't feel close to God? Why aren't you out there, getting dirty for Him?!<br /><br />I'm not just talking about Zambia, or even missions. We all have a calling and not everyone is called to love on the people of Africa the way I have been. But what about the people you see everyday who are hurting? What about your neighbor, your sister, your friend? There is someone in your life God is calling you to love, but you sit back and are scared of getting dirty, scared of getting hurt, scared of the "what if's."<br /><br />If you ever want to grow in your faith to the level you see in others you have to step out. You have to find yourself firmly planted in Him, letting the dirt of life surround you and the living water fill you, if you ever, EVER, want to see the mountains in your life move.<br /></span></span>Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-2833481485320612009-02-09T10:04:00.000-05:002009-02-09T10:42:37.227-05:00For Such A Time As This..."... For such a time as this." (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?book_id=19&chapter=4&verse=14&version=31&context=verse">Esther 4:14</a>)<br /><br />I've been thinking a lot lately about this little scripture from Esther. It's seemingly innocent, Mordecai's reply to Esther about what was going on in the kingdom, the Jewish people facing a threat on their lives.<br /><br />I'm increasingly frustrated with the state of this world, this country. We have families struggling to survive. And I'm not talking about physically surviving. I'm talking about surviving as a family unit. Men, women and children are all being attacked. And we're completely clueless as a nation. We believe that we deserve all of this "stuff" just because we're Americans. Truthfully none of us deserves any of this. I don't deserve to be sitting in a four bedroom house with two bathrooms. Not when there are families all over the world living in one room huts.<br /><br />I remember a few years ago having a pastor from Zambia over to our house. Hubby and I had been called to be full time missionaries and were in the beginning stages of planning our taking our family (only two kids at the time) to Zambia to help run an orphanage there. Pastor Chewe was nearing the end of his trip. He'd spent time with a lot of people from our church, all of whom were very well off. He'd been to their six bedroom, three story houses on the lake. And then we invited him to have supper with us at our little three bedroom ranch that we were renting. We mentioned feeling a little embarassed because our house was so humble compared to the other places he'd stayed. I remember him looking at us and saying "This would be a mansion where I live." We'd been so worried about how we compared to other Americans that we had forgotten about where our guest came from. He lived in a small hut. He'd lost his wife to the HIV/AIDS crisis in Africa. He, himself, was battling (and has since lost that battle) HIV and hepatitis.<br /><br />I get caught up in the keeping up with the Jones's. Hubby and I are both very guilty of it. And so now are our kids. Every once in awhile though I have these moments of clarity, or maybe extremeism. I get so frustrated by the views of a lot of Americans that I want to sell everything and move to a little hut in the woods somewhere. My own little uni-bomber type shack. I want to just cut myself from all of the outside world. I've even thought about converting to Amish just so I coule move into their communities.<br /><br />Then I hear that still, small voice whisper to me.... "For such a time as this." God could have created me at any point in history. He could have made me back in the days of Christ. I could have been one of those that perished when Noah's flood came. I could have been created in the days of Little House on the Prairie. But instead, God wanted to make me now. He knew that He could use me here, now. He doesn't want me to go running and hiding, avoiding all contact with people. He wants me to live in this world, making a difference for Him. He wants me to use the tools we've been blessed with to do His work. I can use email for good. I can use TV for good. I can use my skills and talents here. Now. I'm not called to be timid. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?book_id=62&chapter=1&verse=7&version=31&context=verse">2 Timothy</a> says that as a believer in Christ I have been called to have a spirit of power, of love and of self discipline.<br /><br />I've got the love thing down, though I could always use help. I struggle with loving those that don't love me. And I struggle with worrying what people think about me.<br /><br />Power and self-discipline. Well that's just a different story altogether. Too often I let my flesh get the best of my body. I eat more than I should. Or drink more coffee than I should. I get frustrated and lash out in anger, instead of in love. (Guess I don't have that love thing down afterall.) I spend more time on the computer than I should. Or watch things that aren't good for me to watch. I'm getting better at the power thing. I view that as standing up for what I know is right, even when it isn't the popular opinion. The problem there is that I sometimes get too opinionated. I've offended people with my political views. I'm working on finding that balance.<br /><br />That's what it's all about though right. Living for Christ in a fallen world requires balance.<br /><br /><em>Lord, thank you for your wisdom. You created me for such a time as this. You created me to be here, in 2009. Please allow me to use the things You have blessed me with for Your glory. And only Your glory. Please help me get myself out of the way of You. I just want to be a tool, used for Your glory, reaching Your children for You.</em>Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-90827275688513102302008-12-30T20:22:00.001-05:002008-12-30T20:43:53.315-05:00As the year comes to an end...Just a quick little blog. Sitting on my grandmother in law's computer and it's as old as some of my kids... but I wanted to put some thoughts out in cyber world and off my mind.<br /><br />Yesterday was December 29. Just another day for most. But for me, it was the day I was supposed to become a mother for the fifth time. Yesterday was the due date for the baby we lost back in May. I never thought that a baby I didn't plan (not that any of my other four have been planned) and never met could be missed so much. But I've wiped quite a few tears away the last few days thinking about that baby. I also have been thinking about the other mothers of Christmas. What mothers are those you say? Well the bible tells us that because Herod was so scared of losing his throne he put to death all baby boys under the age of two when he heard that Jesus had been born. We always think about Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus at Christmas. Perfectly clean, in a clean world, never having to worry or be scared. This year though, my heart still fresh with a pain I never thought I would know, my thoughts have turned to the mothers who had to hand their babies over to King Herod's men, to be killed. Babies that were ripped from their mothers arms, just because they happened to be born at the wrong time. I can empathize now. How many of those mothers wished they had been the ones that were taken instead? How many of them, faithful God-fearing Jewish women, questionned God in their time of pain and anguish?<br /><br />Back when I first lost the baby a good friend called to check on me. All I remember of that conversation (besides the appreciation that the topic wasn't avoided) was when he said the scripture in Job I've repeated to myself many times... "He (God) gives and takes away." I won't pretend to understand why God allowed me to get pregnant, just to take the baby away again. Could I have needed to be taught more on pain? More about submitting myself to God's plan? I've repeated that scripture to myself many times since that day in May. Every time I hear the song with those lyrics I can't sing out loud, for fear of losing myself into a hysterical puddle of crying goo.<br /><br />In my Earth centered body, trying to focus on heaven, I like to paint a little picture. It's of my Dad, who was killed when I was twelve, holding that little baby we lost. (I imagine the baby as a boy.) He never got to meet any of his grandchildren. And maybe, just maybe, God wanted to give my Daddy a special gift I couldn't give him. I named my first son after him, but I couldn't give him the gift of being the first to hold one of his grandchildren. So maybe, in heaven, my Daddy is sitting in a rocking chair, surrounded by all the other people I've lost in my life, holding my little baby... rocking him, holding him close, singing to him and thinking about me.<br /><br />I'm trying to heal this pain, but there are times when the pain seems so fresh, like the day I after, when I woke up and remembered I wasn't pregnant anymore. I'm trying.<br /><br />He gives and takes away... but Lord, BLESSED be YOUR name!!!Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-8739513302711045072008-11-10T10:18:00.001-05:002009-07-19T21:56:04.696-04:00Truth in LoveSo, on my recent cross country trek I had a lot of time to think. I mean, once you OOO and AAHH over the scenery for half an hour, it all starts to look the same. So that brought on some time to think and reflect.<br /><br />I've been thinking and praying a lot on the term "Speaking the truth in love." (<a href="http://http//www.biblegateway.com/passage/?book_id=56&chapter=4&verse=15&version=31&context=verse">Ephesians 4:15</a>)<br />I always wondered how one does that exactly. Some things can't be said lovingly. The people in the south have figured out a way to lessen the blow a bit by following everything harsh with "Bless Her Heart." It's not the same though as speaking the truth in love.<br /><br />I've been praying about my witness, praying to show me if I've been harsh in this way, feeling justified of my words because of the other person being a Christian. Then it hit me, as clear as the sun outside (not in Washington LOL). It's all about relationship, just like everything Jesus taught. You take the time, building a relationship with someone. You learn to trust them and love them. You learn that they're standing firm on the solid rock of Jesus. You see them walking everyday with Him. And then, only then, is when the truth can be spoken in love. You build the relationship in brotherly love and can speak the truth.<br /><br />I'm learning to distinguish truth from the lies of Satan in my everyday conversation. Satan tells me I'm worthless, that I'm a horrible mother. God tells me that He can see how much I love my children in the way we play together, or sing songs in the car in silly voices. He shines light on my flaws, but He doesn't attack me with lies. His word is truth. I'm learning to listen only to the voices that speak truth into my life. I'm also realizing the concept of quality over quantity of friends. I don't have to speak to someone everyday, or see someone everyday. If they are truly my friend they will love me and be praying for me even without the daily contact. I'm concentrating on hearing God's voice through the people He has blessed me with... my husband, my children and a few select (less than 10) friends whose words have spoken truth to my heart.<br /><br />Most of those friends (except two) are back in Washington. That makes it so hard to start again here. I know though that those people, the ones who are truly my friends, will love me unconditionally, even 3000 miles away. These are the people who love me, love my kids, my husband and even my dog. These are the people who love me even though I'm a die hard Republican and they're die hard Democrats. (We just don't talk about it. LOL) They're the people that have gone to the ER with me. They're the ones that have helped me fold laundry, instead of just avoiding coming into my house. They're the ones who have taken my kids when I needed a little break. They've shown up on my doorstep with coffee when I needed it most. They're the ones that when I didn't have my husband to ask biblical questions of were willing to stand in the gap and answer my weekly silly questions. They're the ones who laugh over things like grits, Chick-Fil-A and The Wal Mart in an accent that is not anywhere near southern, but somehow we both found (and only use with each other). Like I said, they love me unconditionally. They can speak truth to me anytime.<br /><br />I know that we've been moved here as part of God's plan for our life. I'm so scared though that I can't possibly find the kind of friends I left behind in Washington. But then I'm reminded of Jeremiah 29:11... "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." My hope is to be in Him. And if He has taken us all the way across the country He has something amazing in store for us. Somewhere out there in Georgia and Alabama God has people that need the kind of love I've been shown. I just have to choose to Believe His Truth because He Loves Me. :DRebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-77047590849565134042008-10-20T23:43:00.001-04:002008-10-20T23:45:14.494-04:00Words HurtSo tonight my oldest daughter said something to me that hurt so much I can't even type it. I sent her to bed right away because I didn't even know how else to handle the words she spoke. I don't know how to put this kind of thing behind me. The words hurt enough that I don't think I can "forgive and forget." Ugh. What to do....<br /><br />For now... I'm going to pray.Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-59726260266434856782008-10-16T23:49:00.000-04:002008-10-17T00:11:07.195-04:00Got Hope?So I was driving along somewhere yesterday. Honestly, I don't remember where, since most of my trips are spent in odd conversation with children. Anyway, I saw a bumper sticker that read "Got Hope?" I thought to myself.... What a cool Christian sticker! Then as I got closer I saw the fine print. (There's always fine print isn't there?) It wasn't a Christian sticker at all. It was a sticker for Barack Obama. And in that moment my heart sank as I realized our county is moving rapidly forward to putting their faith not in the God of the universe, but in a man. This has nothing to do with how I feel about Mr. Obama as a candidate. (Side note- if you're going to talk against the Iraq war you should actually talk to the people who have been there, not listen to a bunch of career politicians whose only care is to get themselves reelected. That's all I'll say about the presedential election.)<br /><br />As a country we've bought into this idea of hope in a man. It's a false hope. We're placing our hopes in a man to change the country. This is a country that for the past fifty years has completely turned our backs on the true source of hope. Our founding fathers knew that source of hope, but we have turned away, not wanting to offend anyone. Instead, we've made it okay to be anything except a Christian, caucasian working class man who likes women. Gay? It's okay because God made you that way (even though in every other area the same people saying they were created this way are denouncing the Creator Himself). Child Molester? Yep, that's okay too because you must have had a crappy childhood. Been given a bad medical prognosis? It's okay to kill yourself. Unwanted pregnancy? It's okay to kill the baby. Sentenced to death row because you've committed the most heinous of crimes? Nope- not okay to kill you. Been mistreated in a military prison because you were plotting against our country? Nope- that's bad too.<br /><br />We've become a country full of hypocrites. We've placed our hope in the empty promises of a man. (And yes, I believe both candidates are just trying to say what they have to in order to get themselved in office. I am voting based on past performance and a few key issues important to my faith and my family.)<br /><br />The only thing that is giving me comfort is the scripture that says God's will WILL be done. The people in office get there because God wants them there to support His will. I'm just thinking Jesus may be coming soon.<br /><br />(I know this seems a bit extreme, but I'm very angry that a man that claims to be Christian would ask for anyone's hope to be put in anyone except Jesus Christ Himself.)Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-36552346078326041462008-10-11T02:11:00.000-04:002008-10-11T02:32:06.342-04:00Been working on some things this week. Readjusting my focus. Taking off my "Me" tinted glasses and opting for the God-tinted ones instead.<br /><br />Why is it that when you start to work on yourself, truly make the effort to become more Christ like, people in your life whine about it? I mean, they're not saying, "You shouldn't try to be more Christ like." But they whine about what that means to them, how my changing effects their lives. Just doesn't seem right. I get enough whining from my children. I don't need to add anyone more whining to my day. Too much to ask?<br /><br />Working on finding the balance between choosing forgiveness and being walked on or hurt. Even though I've chosen to forgive a certain person, do I still have to be nice? Yes. I have to be nice. I do not have to go out of my way to put myself in a situation where person X will hurt me again though. I just have to be polite. Speak when spoken to. Try desperately not to judge. (I'm speaking of one person and one incident. I know this theory wouldn't work in every situation.) Like someone told me, I don't have to be friends with this person just because they're also a Christian. So, working on politeness and being nonjudgemental towards X.<br /><br />Been sifting through pictures lately. I am so glad that the hair that was so popular in the late 80's and early 90's is no longer in style. Seriously. What were we thinking? Curious (or just need a really good laugh today)?<br /><a href="http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewImage&friendID=68298539&albumID=2319544&imageID=35167214"><img alt="This is my Freshman pic. It was 1989. That should help explain the hair. LOL." src="http://hotlink.myspacecdn.com/images01/15/bcb11384d7055474a18de1abc26b4502/m.jpg" /></a> Yeah. That's me. Circa 1989. Freshman year in high school. Man, I was hot! Um, yeah, not so much.<br /><br />Been thinking a lot about things past. The pictures, our 10th anniversary, the things God has been bringing out, Halloween coming up... everything is reminding me of things past. There's a song by Chris Rice that says something to the effect of- Why do we look back, is it because we know we survived? I think that covers it completely. I know I survived my father being killed when I was 12. I don't want to have to hurt like that ever again.<br /><br />It's late and I think I've been rambling. So for tonight, I'm going to close this out.Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-26261513438135026752008-10-06T10:53:00.000-04:002008-10-06T11:47:23.362-04:00Forgiveness, WorshipThis weekend I went to a retreat for women here on post. It was hosted by the local PWOC (Protestant Women of the Chapel) group. The retreat speaker was <a href="http://www.bobandaudrey.com/">Audrey Meisner</a>. She has such an amazing testimony of the love of Christ. I won't go into details because you can read it all on your own at her and her husband's website.<br /><br />God is so awesome in who and what He uses to get Himself across to us in our lives. I sometimes (okay, usually) feel forgotten and little... insignificant. Every other relationship in my life is based on performance. At least I feel like it is. As a wife there are things that are my part of the relationship, things I have to do. As a mom there are things I have to do for each kid, or I feel like I've failed. As a daughter... as a friend... as a sister... as a volunteer in my church... every aspect of my life there are expectations. And if I'm being completely honest I also have expectations of the people in my life that, when they're missed, frustrate me.<br /><br />Okay, back to the point. At the retreat, the first night the talk was about forgiveness. At the end we were all bowed in prayer and Audrey asked some questions. Who have you not forgiven? Who do you need to forgive for past sin? Have you forgiven yourself for past sin? Immediately two past sins came to mind. The two default hurts, the big hurts in my life, came to mind. I prayed on those. I made a conscious effort to choose forgiveness. I decided to make the choice to stop letting Satan hold those things over me any longer. They're both really big hurts, but in the interest of keeping relationships I won't go into them here for the world to read. Just know that they were big hurts that have since changed how I live my life on every level.<br /><br />I thought that would be that. Okay God, I chose to forgive these two people. In the past when I thought about forgiving these things I thought that somehow it would lessen the pain I felt after these hurts. So making a conscious choice to choose forgiveness was a huge step for me. Huge. But then, as I was singing, just after praying that prayer, more hurts came to mind. The things I'd never made the choice to forgive. Things I was still holding on to, but didn't even realize. Some things I hadn't even thought about in years. Other things weren't even meant to directly hurt me. In that moment, as my mind was flooding with the hurts, God spoke to me in my heart and said, "Until you choose to let these things go, Satan can use them as a foothold in your life." And as I heard that I realized just how many footholds were there. I have a spirit of unforgiveness. I thought I was doing well. I thought I was walking along the "narrow path." Instead, I was still looking back. Choosing to remember those hurts when the potential to be hurt was brought back.<br /><br />I <em>just</em> got the picture of Lot's wife looking back on Sodom and Gamorrah (sp?) because she thought it was better back there. Am I choosing to keep looking back on my own personal Sodom? I don't think I thought it was better "there" but at the same time, I keep looking back there. Almost making those pains my own personal god. No let's be honest, making those hurts my own personal god. Those hurts have become the focus of my life at points. And Satan uses those hurts at his will to remind me of the pain.<br /> *"You can't completely trust that person. Remember s/he hurt you."<br /> *"You know s/he's lying to you."<br /> *"Remember how much it hurt when s/he did X?"<br /><br />In that moment of flooding thoughts I wanted to walk forward and throw myself on the altar at the front of the church. I wanted to lay sprauled out and let God's forgiveness wash over me. I wanted to let His Perfect Love wash over me and make me white as snow. Instead though, always worrying about who might be watching and judging, I stayed in my pew and laid out in my mind. And now I'm realizing that in that moment I gave Satan another foothold. ("Well God, you might be able to save me, but people might look at me funny and think badly of me if I'm just laid out there at your mercy.")<br /><br />Fast forward...<br />Sunday's sermon at church was about Worship. Yep. Less than 48 hours after I ignored the prompting of my spirit to enter into complete worship our sermon was about just that. I've become so worried about what people think about me that I just won't let myself enter fully into His house. In my van, where I somehow feel like no one can see me even though I'm driving right next to people that CAN see me, I am completely open and honest. I'm raw in my worship. I'm loud. I make a joyful noise. In my house, when it's just the twins and I, I crank the music up loud and we just dance for Jesus. We sing. But then... something happens and I let those doubts creep in again. I worry that the people in my life would think I'm insane if they could see how crazy I am for God. I've become so concerned with other people's opinions that I hold myself back from authenticity. I'm scared that people will judge. I'm scared to be hurt again.<br /><br /><em>Lord, please forgive me for not being transparent in all areas. I want to be open and real. I want to be authentic in my worship in all areas. Lord, please give me judgemental amnesia. Take away the thoughts of other people's judgements. Help me forget the pain. Help me choose to believe you and your promise to never leave me, even when I am judged and hurt by people's opinions. I want to be real. I want to focus on you alone, to live for you. If I can just keep my eyes on you and your love, everything else will fall into place. If I can focus on you, your love will overflow into the people in my life. I can be a good mom, wife, friend, daughter and leader. Give me the strength Lord to choose to keep my eyes on You alone. Amen.</em>Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-2538480485511941932008-10-03T10:25:00.001-04:002016-03-26T09:12:14.295-04:00Ten Years of MarriageCelebrating ten years of marriage today. Ten years ago I walked barefoot down the banks of a river to meet up with the man I would marry. I know that we would not have made it to this point without the grace of God and our commitment to the covenant we made with him.<br />
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There was a time, probably five or six years ago, that Howard and I were on the verge of divorce. We'd talked about who would get the kids, how things would work, etc. We were both caught up in our own lives and in our sin. We'd given our lives to Christ, but we weren't living our lives for Him. We were still completely focused on ourselves. As a last ditch effort I signed us up for a covenant marriage small group at our local church. This wasn't the church we attended, but instead was the church we were scared of. It was big. It was southern Baptist, and we were living in the buckle of the bible belt. It was scary for two people who grew up in a church labeled as a cult by mainstream Christians (it was a cult but we weren't quite ready to admit that). Anyway, I signed us up for this class. We got there and knew the facilitators. They were the couple that owned the local pharmacy I always went to. Long story short those two studies (both on aspects of the covenant marriage) changed our marriage forever.<br />
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We still have a long road. And some days are harder than others. Heck, today I'm trying to figure out how to get our checking account back into the positive before the three other checks out there come thru. Anyway, Howard and I are both committed to each other and to God. That's the difference. Yes, we're still flawed humans who still lose our focus and make it about us. But then we remember that Christ is the center of our marriage.<br />
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<i>Lord Jesus, thank you for loving us enough to die for us. Thank you for reminding us that you are the center of our marriage. Thank you for giving us each the strength to fight for ten years. Please continue to give us strength to fight for this marriage everyday. We know that everyday we will be attacked with ideas of easier ways and selfish things. Please keep our minds and our hearts focused on you alone. We love you Lord. Amen.</i>Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-48372203319636158222008-10-02T11:48:00.000-04:002016-03-26T09:15:49.483-04:00Overwhelmed MothersFirst off, I don't usually watch Oprah. About six months ago, when I realized just how much she twists the Word of God into her own little package, making it say what she wants and therefore effecting those that watch, I decided I was done with Oprah. The bible says to flee from mockers, so in the only way I knew how I fled. Yesterday though, about half an hour into the show I switched over there while folding clothes. The kids were all outside playing nicely, a rare break in my day. Usually I'd have Little House on the Prairie on while folding clothes, but just wasn't feeling Michael Landon yesterday.<br />
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Anyway, yesterday's Oprah was about overwhelmed moms. She had mothers on the show that, in desperation for a break, had made a choice that had somehow cost them greatly. I sat, watching, hearing myself in these mothers and the mothers in the audience sharing their stories. My heart ached, knowing that I can completely understand their stories.<br />
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For those that don't know, I have four children. My son (8) has been diagnosed with ADHD and has trouble in social situations. My oldest daughter (7) has had night terrors and sleep walking since she was 18 months old. She has also gone screaming into the preteen years and has recently found an attitude that I can't even begin to understand. And then I've got two and a half year old twin girls. They play off each other and have learned already that when I'm distracted by something one has done the other can do something too. In short, I have four very individual, strong willed children.<br />
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Confession time...<br />
*I have a TV in my son's room so that I can send all four kids to his room to watch a movie so that I can take an emotional time out.<br />
*I have fought the twins trying to give up their nap times because that's the only chance I have to be alone during the day.<br />
*I have locked my children in the car (my oldest knowing not to unlock it for anyone) so I could run into the library to pick something up because the idea of unloading, fighting with and then reloading all four children is completely overwhelming.<br />
*I have yelled at my children when they've done something wrong, just to scare them from doing it again. (Made them cry. Did not make them not repeat the behavior.)<br />
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Do I "get" the idea of being an overwhelmed mom? You betcha. I've been there, done that, bought the t-shirt and coffee cup. Heck, I'm still there most days.<br />
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Now before you sit and start judging let me say that unless you've been there, you can't completely understand how desperate you can become when you're overwhelmed. I joke about how nice it would be to go to the bathroom alone, but inside I would love to be able to sit in the bathroom for 30 minutes waiting for nature to move things along, if you know what I mean. :) I would love to take a shower every morning, but the fact that I have to time it perfectly for when the children are distracted fully by the TV is annoying at best. I've come out of the shower to the twins sitting on the front porch playing. I'd love to sit down, with my bible and my coffee cup and just soak it all in. I'd love to finish a cup of coffee that's still hot actually, instead of reheating the same cup two or three times during the day, knowing it will be cold again before I can finish it.<br />
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I've found some tools though that have helped me not get overwhelmed as quickly.<br />
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The first one is MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers <a href="http://www.mops.com/">www.mops.com</a>). I attended my first MOPS meeting when I had just my older two kids, drove an hour for that meeting, twice a month. I've since been in a total of three different MOPS groups, each very different, but all sharing one similarity. Moms of little ones that also can't remember the last time they finished a cup of coffee or peed alone.<br />
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The second is PWOC (Protestant Women of the Chapel). This is a bible study group that meets each week. Military folks only. Each week I get there, I drop my children off in childcare and get to go upstairs and meet with other believers. I get fed, physically and spiritually, each week.<br />
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The third is an amazing church that loves children and families. I can go each Sunday, serve the Lord and sit through church. I get to worship God and know that my kids are all being taken care of by people that love them. Our church back in Georgia (which had amazing people that I love) stopped children's ministry during the church service. I grew up sitting in church with my family, but having four small children with you in church is overwhelming. It made me more worn out each week. And now that I think about it that was with only two kids.<br />
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Fourth, is Women of Faith (<a href="http://www.womenoffaith.com/">www.womenoffaith.com</a>). Once a year I get to go away for a weekend and get my spiritual cup refilled in a large group of women who also love the Lord.<br />
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There are also other little things-stamping/crafting club once a month... My Space and Facebook (the only area of my life that I don't HAVE to share with the kids if I don't want to)... Starbucks, or any decent coffee place, that have drive-thrus (my kids all know I like caramel lattes)... the backyard is filled with outside toys that the kids can go play on when I need a few minutes to breathe.<br />
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As a mom, you have to make the choice to look for ways to get your self back to normal. I'm not the best at it. I've cried myself to sleep at night wondering if I was completely screwing my kids up. Honestly, if I didn't have these things to count on I have no idea how bad things would be. I probably would have been in jail for child abuse a long time ago. We're not taught how to be parents. It's all on the job training.<br />
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I still struggle everyday with how much of myself I've lost since becoming a mom. I'm not me, the original me, that I used to be. I want desperately to get that person back because there I was happy with me. I'm not happy with the me I see now. Being a mom has made me desperately aware of my flaws. It's hard. It hurts. Not remembering the last time I did something that was me, the original me. I sometimes don't even remember what that person was like. I remember bits... concerts and music were my life... I'd spend hours in thrift stores looking for something cool and vintage... I'd sit down and draw random pictures or write poetry or prose... I wanted to be a photographer or reporter when I grew up.<br />
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Someday, when the kids are grown, I may get that person back. But until then I'll just have to hold on to the remnants. And keep trying to not get overwhelmed each day by the pressure of raising four children into God fearing, Jesus loving, balanced people.<br />
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<i>Lord, give me the strength to keep my eyes on you when I'm overwhelmed in my mothering. Help me remember the big picture. Some day the kids will be grown and I can spend all the time I want to discovering, or rediscovering, myself. Until then though, help me do a good job. Help me focus on you alone. Help me remember that if you are my focus everything else will fall into place. I love you Lord. Thank you for loving me, my husband and my children, more than I can even begin to comprehend. You are an awesome God. Amen.</i>Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-78848398769270219482008-09-15T11:57:00.000-04:002008-09-15T12:16:05.923-04:00RootsOur sermon yesterday was about the power of our root system. My bible study this week is also about the power of roots. God trying to tell me something? Yes, yes He is.<br /><br />Over the last couple years, since the twins were born, I've slowly let life creep in. Little things. Silly things. I've sporadically studied my bible, but more out of obligation than a deep hunger. My roots need to be fed. I've forgotten that. I had allowed myself to get so distracted that I forgot what it was like to hunger for God's word, to thirst for that intimacy.<br /><br />Yesterday's sermon also got me thinking about people that God can use. Psalms 1... spend some time reading it.<br /><br />I spent a year of my life, while hubby was deployed, praying the "I can do all things through Christ" prayer. Everyday He carried me along, as I flailed about trying to keep my head above water. He brought friends to my side, friends that truly Love Him. Those friends pulled me up and dusted me off. They loved me unconditionally. He also brought people in my life that judged me. People that felt they had the right to knock me down because they profess to be believers of Christ. These people hurt me deeper than I can express with words. I was vulnerable and I was judged on my vulnerability. I have since become even more aware of the people around me.<br /><br />I've learned who I can actually trust. The list is small. I won't go into who is actually on the list because some people would be hurt that they aren't there. And I don't want to hurt anyone the way I was hurt. Instead I'm trying to forgive those that hurt me, praying that God shows me how to love those people. I always hear quality over quantity. I never really understood though. It's better to have a few amazing people in your life, people you can count on any time of day or night, than lots of people that judge and condemn you.<br /><br />This morning when I woke up all I could think about was my time with God, reestablishing my roots. Putting them deep in the fertile soil of God's Word. Today's study when I got there... hungering and thirsting for eternal things, rather than temporary. So that's what I'll work on. Focusing on Him, His Word and His Unfailing Love for me.<br /><br /><em>Lord, I thank you for the people in my life. I thank you for those that love me. I also thank you though for those that have judged, for they are being used by you to refine my heart. Thank you for what you are doing in my life and the lives of the people around me. Please continue to give me the strength I need to follow you. In your son's holy name- Amen.</em>Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-33284641435991681682008-09-10T20:27:00.000-04:002008-09-10T20:40:03.421-04:00What happened to customer service?I've become increasingly frustrated with customer service the last few days. Why you ask?<br /><br />Incident #1:<br />My sister in law is having her first baby. She's registered at Wal Mart's website. I went to the site, found the registry, clicked the items I wanted to buy, clicked "Check Out." I thought that was that. I got the confirmation email and alas, it said the shipping address was my own. I emailed Wal Mart and all they said was they were sorry for the inconvenience. I bought something from a registry and it is being mailed to ME, not the person on the registry. I now have to trudge four kids to the post office and pay a second shipping charge to get the items to my sister in law.<br /><br />Incident #2:<br />I check the mail the other day and find a little card that states I have a certified letter. I go to the post office the next day to pick it up. I hand my card to the lady in the window, she's gone for a good 15 minutes and comes back and says that they can't FIND my certified letter. That's right, it was "lost." Certified mail and they lost it between my house (or my mailbox) and the post office. What the heck? I checked the mail today to see if it was there. (I signed a little form that said they could deliver it if they found it.) No letter. So I call the post office again. The gentleman was very nice, but again couldn't find my letter. He gave me the number for the post office inspector person.... meaning I have now filed an official complaint that my letter was stolen.<br /><br />Incident #3:<br />(This happened to a friend not me... but it has happened to me in the past at the same store and I'm on a roll now.) My friend went through the Burger King drive thru the other day to get supper for herself and her three kids (aged 4, 2 and 1). She waited 45 minutes from pulling into the drive thru to getting her bag of food. Once you're in the line you can't leave, unless you happen to have a very large wheeled SUV and no respect for landscaping. (And you're willing to chance a ticket for driving all over the grass.) She thought there was something missing, so she ended up toting the three kids inside. When she was at the counter requesting her missed item she asked why it took so long. The employee told her "It's pay day and we're doing the best we can." Um no, it was a few days after payday, a weeknight and not the dinner rush. Idiots.<br /><br />So, my question, what the heck happened to customer service?Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-24310607474829619472008-09-08T22:22:00.000-04:002008-09-08T22:29:28.813-04:00Age is only a state of mind... right?I went in today for my annual eye exam. I've worn glasses since I was in third grade, so the last 24 years or so. Anyway, I turned 33 almost a month ago. Not too old. At least I don't think so. While I was doing my exam I (for the first time) had to do the reading to see if I need bifocals. It took me until later in the afternoon to realize what had happened. At the time I thought nothing of it. You move through your random exams. You answer the "Which looks better #1 or #2?" over and over again.<br /><br />Then, it just hit me. Hours later.<br /><br />"Did I just take a bifocal exam too?"<br /><br />"I DID just take a bifocal exam! Holy Crap! How old am I again?"<br /><br />I don't feel old. Okay, maybe somedays I feel old. But 33 isn't that old. Seriously. It wasn't that long ago that I was a cool person. I mean, maybe 10 years. But that's not long ago. It's not like I was cool in the 50's.<br /><br />When did 33 become old?Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-14680851978857014812008-09-08T00:42:00.000-04:002008-09-08T00:55:23.978-04:00This week's plansWell, as Sunday night draws to a close the kids are all finally asleep. Howard is standing behind me jamming out on Guitar Hero or Rock Band... one of thos games we love to play and pretend we're still cool. (We used to be, but it's been like 10 years or so I think.)<br /><br />I'm looking at this week's planner page and thinking, "Wow That's a lot to do." Just to give you an idea of where I'll be spending my week...<br /><strong>Monday</strong> is an eye exam for me, grocery shopping and then housecleaning. Howard has Monday off, which has both advantages and disadvantages. If you're married I don't have to explain this statement.<br /><strong>Tuesday</strong> is a WIC appointment and then Madison's first Girl Scouts meeting of the year. (And more cleaning somewhere in there.)<br /><strong>Wednesday</strong> is my first bible study for this term. I'm taking "Freedom for Mothers." I chose this one because the teacher forgot her book last week when she had to get in front of everyone and explain what the bible study was about. I mean, seriously, how much more "ME" can a bible study be than the teacher forgetting her book!<br /><strong>Thursday</strong> is my post op check up. It's past six weeks, but I was in Canada the week of my original appointment. Also, that evening we're planning a trip to the theater here for a little Wall-E action.<br /><strong>Friday</strong> is payday. That means seeing the money go out as quickly as it appeared in our account. Good times.<br /><strong>Saturday</strong> is lunch with my fellow moms of four or more from church. Then supper in the evening with friends.<br /><strong>Sunday</strong> is serving at church, lunch here (and Rock Band) with some friends. Those friends include the drummer from church. Now, if we could just rustle up the bass player and his wife we could have a real live band in our livingroom. Sunday night I have my monthly crafter's anonymous meeting. Seriously though, it's a crafting group I go to once a month to make things.<br /><br />Not every week is slammed full everyday with stuff. This week is just one of those fun weeks. Honestly, I'm really looking forward to most of it. I'm not necessarily looking forward to what will have to happen at my post op appointment, but I'm looking forward to being cleared back to normal humanity again. And of course I'm looking forward to new glasses, a new bible study and lots of meals with friends.Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5834638716147279266.post-65619047023394825232008-09-07T23:32:00.000-04:002008-09-07T23:41:59.758-04:00All the cool kids do it...Well here I am starting my very own official blog. I'd started one awhile back, in a desperate attempt to have a place to anonymously vent about the idiots I see everyday. Alas though, I know I should just love those people.... not blog about their flaws. I'm learning.<br /><br />Anyway, I have a My Space page. And a Facebook page. Why do I feel like I need a blog too? Because maybe here I can finally just not worry about who is reading and work more on me. In the past I've learned that writing helps me get things out, learn as I'm writing and get to know myself better.<br /><br />Besides... Pastor Rob, Kristin Luippold and Lauren Webb have a blog. And they're cool. And I want to be like them when I grow up. :D Here's one more step towards my devious plan to become just like the three of them. (I love you guys. You hopefully know that. Besides I here copying is the highest form of flattery. LOL)<br /><br />So, here are my promises to myself, to God and to anyone who may stumble across my little blogging world.<br /><br />1) I'm going to be completely honest. Sometimes that will be a brutal honesty. Sometimes my flaws will come shining through with blazing brilliance. But in all things I am promising honesty.<br /><br />2) I'll do my very best to learn from every post. Something about me, about God, His word, His creation or the people around me.Rebekah S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06383641797124571800noreply@blogger.com0