What I learned during my first Lent

            This was my first Lent.  I honestly barely even knew what Lent was before a year ago.  The extent of my knowledge on the subject was that it had something to do with Easter and I had a friend in high school who gave up peanut butter for a while every spring.  Tomorrow, I am excited to say, I will officially become a Catholic.  As I was thinking tonight about the faith journey that I have been on over the past two years, I had a great urge to write out some of my thoughts and feelings before heading into tomorrow when my daughter and I will both be receiving our first communion and confirmation and my son will be baptized at the Easter Vigil. 

Although I have learned a TON throughout this entire time, Lenten reflections have brought me some very specific insights about who I am and who Jesus is.  While attending mass over the past year, a nagging desire kept emerging in my heart.  I wanted to begin veiling (wearing a head covering while in the presence of our Lord Jesus).  I ignored this desire for a long time.  I was so scared of what people would think of me.  Of what they would say.  Of the questions they might ask.  I honestly didn’t even fully understand at the time all of the symbolic meaning and reasons for this beautiful tradition within the Catholic church.  I’m not even a Catholic yet.  All I knew was I felt a call.  I had a longing in my heart.  So, when the opportunity came in the form of someone who happened to have veils available a week before Lent, and my fiancé (who knew that I had been praying about this for a while) asked if I wanted one, I decided to go for it.  I didn’t realize until weeks after I began wearing the veil why Jesus had called me to it.                

From the start, I felt an incredible peace envelope me every time I entered a church or chapel with a veil over my head.  It was, to me, a sign of reverence and respect for Jesus when I came into His presence.  Then, I read about how a woman wearing a veil is a symbolic reminder of Christ’s relationship with His bride, the Church.  I also read many other beautiful symbolic meanings behind this practice.   After a couple of weeks, however, I realized there was a bit more to it for me personally.  I was reclaiming my dignity, as a woman and as a human being.  I know Jesus has always seen me as beautiful and as His beloved child.  I know He has longed for me to come home and be reconciled unto himself.  But for a very long time, this is not how I felt about myself.     

“I’m so broken that no one and nothing will ever be able to truly fix me.  My heart is so scarred that it is beyond hope of complete healing.  I am so dirty, I deserve my pain.  I deserve my filth.”    This is really what it boiled down to.  

But this is who Jesus reminded me I am over the last couple of months. I am a beloved daughter of God.  My body is a sacred tabernacle.  No human can ever change that, no matter what they may do to me.  I felt Jesus speaking to me as I cried out to him while contemplating my life.  He told me to surrender.  Surrender my fear.  Surrender my anger.  Surrender my belief that I was not capable of healing and wholeness.  So I did.  This took the physical form of the veil I began wearing the first day of Lent, even though I hadn’t realized it at the time.  Now, every time I put the veil on my head and prepare for worship, I am reminded of who I am.  I am a beloved daughter of the King; beautiful in the eyes of my Savior and Lord.  Healed and made whole.  Cleansed and renewed.  (I can tell you for a fact, I practically floated out of that mysterious and daunting confessional after my first reconciliation.  But that is another story for another time).  I have reclaimed my self-worth.  I know there will still be plenty of tough days and tear filled nights, but I will do my best to choose to clothe myself in strength and dignity and laugh without fear of the future (Proverbs 31:25) from now on.

So, tomorrow begins another chapter in this exciting journey.  Here we go.  :-)    

Believing you're a pushover:just a thought on the road to recovery

You know....  I'm realizing that I truly believed I was a pushover.

Someone told me today I'm stubborn.  That my kids must have gotten their stubbornness from their mother.  Music to my ears! I am stubborn, what?! For years I'd been told I was incapable.   
And I believed it. I was told that if I left I would never see my kids again because I would never be able to keep a real job and support them.   
And I believed it. 
I caved. 
I didn't believe in me. 

"But he said to me,  'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.'" ~ II Corinthians 
12:9.  

Weakness into perfection.  This is God's desire for you.  Grace offers power from weakness. Not in place of weakness, but from weakness. There will be days where you feel so little strength,  you can't even imagine yourself strong. There will still be weakness. But, His grace is sufficient. 

I heard a song on Sunday. It was an older worship song that I'd sung in high school.  It said, "Rise up women of the truth. Stand and sing to broken hearts. Who can know the healing power, of our awesome king of love?"*  You can know the healing power. You.

   This is my attempt to rise up and sing to broken hearts. I want for you to know freedom. I want for you to know joy. I want for you to know love. I want for you to know confidence and not be ashamed of it!  I want for you to know healing. Please join me women of the truth. Rise and sing. You are beautiful. You are strong.

I was told today I was a good teacher. That I'd done a good job teaching a lesson. It was a weird feeling. It was so unnerving to me to hear these things and realize I actually believed them. 

They told me I was a good teacher. And I believed it.

I'm healing.

~ * are lyrics from "Shout to the North"

a letter to survivors of domestic violence

I have to let myself be ok with how much I loved that man.

This is perhaps one of the hardest things that a survivor of abuse has to come to terms with. Self-forgiveness. No matter what it might be for. 

We may sometimes feel so much shame. 
Shame for what our exes did. 
Shame for not having left sooner. 
But the shame of knowing that you truly loved the man whose hands had bruised you. ... overwhelming.

Enter Isaiah 61. This is such a beautiful passage for a woman who has been captive.  Has known heartbreak and deep darkness. Guilt. These words bring comfort,  hope, and joy.  This is the hope we have in God.

" He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
    to proclaim freedom for the captives
    and release from darkness for the prisoners,[a]
2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
    and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
3     and provide for those who grieve in Zion—" 


There is emotional healing. Sisters, Jesus wants to mend the very softest, most painful spots in our aching hearts. Our God not only is able, but desires, to "bind up the brokenhearted."  To heal those wounds.  To aid in our recovery.  God desires your heart to be restored. 

There is light. I know you've known darkness, because I have too. A thick, heavy darkness that is tangible. The darkness of depression and anxiety.  Loneliness. Fear.  Walls of darkness.  Walls that when stacked up against each other created a prison.  God wants to "proclaim freedom" for your life.  Proclamations are loud ladies!  And God wants to speak a decree of freedom from the darkness to you.

Comfort is a form of vengeance. Strife was probably your life.  Constant turmoil. A sense of never ending uneasiness. Moments of peace became fleeting memories of days past, because if your body was not agitated,  your mind sure was.  So to find safety and rest, is such a sweet blessing.  It brings about an opportunity for vengeance not in a sense of "getting even" but in "getting comforted."  The greater peace comes from knowing that God cares for you and has a definite plan for your life. He wants to comfort you day by day.

What is a captive?

     There are so many different ways to be a captive.  The captives we often think of are the ones we see on t.v. and in the movies.  The captive physically bound against escape.  The captive with visible scarring from their ordeal.  But captivity can take so many different forms.

     There are those who show none of these visible signs of their captivity.  Theirs is a hidden prison.  A shiny cage of their own polishing.  Must appear well. 

     These are the captives whose bonds are a feeling of fear.  A confusion caused by sorrow.  In whose minds, the lies spoken over them by someone else become truth.  And they have no other choice but to stay.  They can’t break free.

     But those who have known this kind of captivity can also understand the kind of freedom and unfathomable grace offered within these verses.  “He has sent me to announce release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to send forth as delivered those who are oppressed [who are downtrodden, bruised, crushed, and broken down by calamity], To proclaim the accepted and acceptable year of the Lord.”  ~ Luke 4:18-19. AMP.  Praise be to God! 

     I am grateful for the gift of knowing I am accepted and acceptable.  That by the grace of God, I am released from all manners of captivity.  And that through the love of God, I am sent forth.