Sleepless nights. Tossing and turning and getting increasingly frustrated because I know that I have to be up in a few hours. I just can't seem to turn my mind off. It is reeling with a thousand different questions that I don't have answers for. Confusion, doubt, fear, and insecurity is all crippling my mind and heart.. and I guess my body since I can't seem to fall asleep.
We all knew that we had a decision to make. Do we get out of the Army and give this civilian life a shot? Or do we reenlist and see where it takes us? Here's the thing, my husband and I are screw ups. We can't help it. It just keeps happening. We look behind us and there is a trail of mistakes spread out as far as the eye can see. So, naturally, we do not trust us to make such a big decision. We don't want to make the wrong choice and fall flat on our faces. So, we ask God to choose for us. Not only that, but we would really appreciate it if He could come in the form of a giant burning bush and a loud booming 'Wizard of Oz' kind of voice. That would be great. Thanks, God.
It's been months and my bushes are not burning. The Wizard isn't showing up either. Nothing. Is God just waiting until the very last minute? Did He tell me and I wasn't listening? Oh, Lord... what if He never tells me what to do?!
We would probably have kept on waiting if we weren't being forced to choose. The Army has decided that they need Mike to go to Korea for a year. He would have to leave very soon. He tried all he could to get out of it, but they basically said he either goes to Korea or gets out of the Army all together. Ok, God... we could use that sign right about... now!
You all know I have been sobbing like a big ole baby on my elliptical all week. Sweat and tears getting all mixed up in a salty mess pouring down my face. My way of taking my thoughts captive and controlling my focus is to visualize Jesus while I am working out. I close my eyes and imagine Him standing far off. This feels like I am running to Him. It's been working pretty well, if I do say so myself. The other day, however, Jesus decided to throw in a little touch of burning bush.
I was running my literal butt off on the elliptical. Worshipping and crying and visualizing myself running to Jesus. Suddenly, He smiles at me and walks over to my side. He stands next to my huffing and puffing body and He just smiles. "I am not way over there. I am right here with you. No matter how fast you run or how far away you go, I am always right here. There is no escaping me, even if you wanted too. Because I love you, I will never leave you." Words began to run through my mind, although Jesus' lips never moved. Waaaaaahahhhhhh..... Naturally I sob and cry and gasp for breath because of this stupid elliptical and then I stop. Not running, I keep running even though I wish to everything my 15 minutes was up. I stop crying. I stop sobbing. I stop gasping. I even stop breathing hard. I open my eyes and am in awe at the peace that I have. I was still running way faster and harder than ever and I am not even panting. Slow, easy, peaceful breaths in and out. Cool, huh?
Well, this didn't answer my question. It didn't make my decision for me. But, it did tell me what I needed to hear. That wherever and whatever our decision is... God will go with me. He will not forsake me. If I have to leave this promise land that I have found, it doesn't mean that I will go back to the terrible person I used to be. I will never be that person again, because it isn't an option. Just like divorce isn't an option. Just like moving to the moon isn't an option. I don't have to worry about it, because it's not one of my choices.
One of the most precious women I have ever met gave me a word and it changed everything for me. She said, while God has His plan, He also has a more flexible will. Sometimes He leads you to the buffet and lets you pick your meal. Every choice will honor Him. Every choice will bring glory to His kingdom. Because not serving Him isn't an option.
So, you mean, maybe God is telling me... to choose what I want?! Oh man. I have been so determined to believe that whatever I want is probably not lining up with God wants, that I haven't allowed myself to dream. I haven't allowed myself to desire. I have been too afraid of wanting the wrong thing. But, God loves me. He wants me to have dreams and desires. He wants to help me fulfill them. He wants to walk hand in hand with me and help them all come to pass. After all, I have been transformed. I have taken on the very heart of God. As long as I don't stray from Him, I can't fail.
I had to come to a place of peace. Knowing that God will never leave me. He will never allow my family to live on the streets or go without meals. And, even if any of those things ever happened, He remains the same. No circumstance in my life will ever change who God is. It will never change what He has done for me and continues to do. So, I am not afraid anymore. I will not make a decision for my life based on fear. There is no fear in love. If God is love, then there is no room for fear. I choose to stay close to God, therefore leaving fear behind.
My husband and I have talked, fought, cried, yelled, and ultimately sat down to a civil conversation addressing the pros and cons of each option. We have come to a decision and we have great peace with it. We don't have all the answers, but we do know which general direction we are going with. And we are excited instead of fearful. Finally looking at the future with hope and anticipation. I know whatever happens, we will never do it alone.
Joshua 1:9 Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.
Proverbs 16:9 The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.
We believe that God wants us to choose. So, we have gone with our heart's desire and we know He will be faithful to guide every step along the way.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Getting Lost. A lot.
It's no secret. I love to worship. I can't wait for Sunday morning to roll around so I can show up to church (late.. let's be honest) and get my worship on. It's not about the singing as much as it is about the overwhelming presence of God that I feel in that place. When you get together with dozens of other people who are all expecting God to show up... crazy things happen.
When I close my eyes, everyone else seems to fade away. I can't hear those of you behind me, or even to the side of me (so don't worry.. I am not paying attention to whether or not you are on pitch, so belt it out- who cares?!). The only sound I hear is the musicians playing the most beautiful sounds that my heart beats in sync with, and our worship team. That's it. It is me and Jennifer (or McKaylin or Tiffany, depending on who happens to be singing at the time) and Jesus and that's it.
It is so easy to get lost. To forget where you are or what time it is. To forget that you woke up late and didn't have time for breakfast and you were starving on the way to church. My eyes don't even consider glancing at the clock. Who cares what time it is? Closing my eyes, I envision little images to accompany the lyrics of the worship. I begin to feel weights lifting off my chest and shoulders. I take deep breaths and exhale whispers of thanks to the One giving me relief. This is where I usually start to choke on my tears and my cheeks start getting soaked. It just happens. Like every time.
It's a euphoric time that I wish would never end. But here's the thing. Why should it? Why should I have to wait until next Sunday to experience this?! Why do I only dance hand in hand with my Father on Sundays? Why only at the Hinesville YMCA? Why have I put God in such a tiny box?
A wise man once told my husband and I that making love was a form of worship. It was a beautiful time that our souls could intertwine and give praise to God for His glorious creation (bow chicka wah wow) (sorry, I couldn't resist..). That had never occurred to me before. If that is true, then what else could be worship? I thought it was just singing...
Worship: the feeling or expression of reverence and adoration for a deity; show reverence and adoration for (a deity); honor with religious rites.
Webster didn't even mention singing...
You all know about my workout worship. I realized two days ago that working out was a form of worship. Yesterday I climbed back on the elliptical and started running. My legs were tired and hated me with every fiber in them. But I closed my eyes, cranked up my Jesus Culture radio on Pandora and pressed on. Within moments I was no longer in my living room. I was no longer worried about the time. I wasn't tired and my legs weren't screaming at me. I was simply in the presence of my Maker and I was dancing. I was having a lot of fun actually.
When I laid The Dragon Princess down for her nap, she asked me for a song. She does this a lot lately, only she requests Let It Go specifically. I was tired of singing Let It Go (shocking, eh?) so I started singing some worship songs that I used to sing to Sophia. Hazel laid there peacefully snuggling her Piggy. I closed my eyes and kept singing. Before I knew it I was choking back tears. No, I wasn't sad. I wasn't upset in the least. I was emotional. I was thankful. I was in His presence again. It's an overwhelming feeling to be there. Trust me. Especially for cry babies like me.
This made me realize what I stated before. Everything can be worship. The thing about it, is that even the most mundane things can become glorious and beautiful if you involve God in it. Taking a shower, cooking dinner for your family, driving to work, even running your butt off (literally) on the elliptical.
Colossians 3 1-2 So if you’re serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that’s where the action is. See things from his perspective.
3-4 Your old life is dead. Your new life, which is your real life—even though invisible to spectators—is with Christ in God. He is your life. When Christ (your real life, remember) shows up again on this earth, you’ll show up, too—the real you, the glorious you. Meanwhile, be content with obscurity, like Christ.
When I close my eyes, everyone else seems to fade away. I can't hear those of you behind me, or even to the side of me (so don't worry.. I am not paying attention to whether or not you are on pitch, so belt it out- who cares?!). The only sound I hear is the musicians playing the most beautiful sounds that my heart beats in sync with, and our worship team. That's it. It is me and Jennifer (or McKaylin or Tiffany, depending on who happens to be singing at the time) and Jesus and that's it.
It is so easy to get lost. To forget where you are or what time it is. To forget that you woke up late and didn't have time for breakfast and you were starving on the way to church. My eyes don't even consider glancing at the clock. Who cares what time it is? Closing my eyes, I envision little images to accompany the lyrics of the worship. I begin to feel weights lifting off my chest and shoulders. I take deep breaths and exhale whispers of thanks to the One giving me relief. This is where I usually start to choke on my tears and my cheeks start getting soaked. It just happens. Like every time.
It's a euphoric time that I wish would never end. But here's the thing. Why should it? Why should I have to wait until next Sunday to experience this?! Why do I only dance hand in hand with my Father on Sundays? Why only at the Hinesville YMCA? Why have I put God in such a tiny box?
A wise man once told my husband and I that making love was a form of worship. It was a beautiful time that our souls could intertwine and give praise to God for His glorious creation (bow chicka wah wow) (sorry, I couldn't resist..). That had never occurred to me before. If that is true, then what else could be worship? I thought it was just singing...
Worship: the feeling or expression of reverence and adoration for a deity; show reverence and adoration for (a deity); honor with religious rites.
Webster didn't even mention singing...
You all know about my workout worship. I realized two days ago that working out was a form of worship. Yesterday I climbed back on the elliptical and started running. My legs were tired and hated me with every fiber in them. But I closed my eyes, cranked up my Jesus Culture radio on Pandora and pressed on. Within moments I was no longer in my living room. I was no longer worried about the time. I wasn't tired and my legs weren't screaming at me. I was simply in the presence of my Maker and I was dancing. I was having a lot of fun actually.
When I laid The Dragon Princess down for her nap, she asked me for a song. She does this a lot lately, only she requests Let It Go specifically. I was tired of singing Let It Go (shocking, eh?) so I started singing some worship songs that I used to sing to Sophia. Hazel laid there peacefully snuggling her Piggy. I closed my eyes and kept singing. Before I knew it I was choking back tears. No, I wasn't sad. I wasn't upset in the least. I was emotional. I was thankful. I was in His presence again. It's an overwhelming feeling to be there. Trust me. Especially for cry babies like me.
This made me realize what I stated before. Everything can be worship. The thing about it, is that even the most mundane things can become glorious and beautiful if you involve God in it. Taking a shower, cooking dinner for your family, driving to work, even running your butt off (literally) on the elliptical.
Colossians 3 1-2 So if you’re serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that’s where the action is. See things from his perspective.
3-4 Your old life is dead. Your new life, which is your real life—even though invisible to spectators—is with Christ in God. He is your life. When Christ (your real life, remember) shows up again on this earth, you’ll show up, too—the real you, the glorious you. Meanwhile, be content with obscurity, like Christ.
Monday, December 8, 2014
Sarah takes on DC (Double Chin)
I hate working out. I find very good reasons every day to avoid doing it. I have probably worked out a total of 5 times in my entire life. I'm almost 30 folks. That's pitiful. The reality is that I have never needed to. I mean sure, I never had a rock hard sexy toned body like all the celebrities and super models... but hey, I was never gonna be famous anyway. I have always been average for my weight and I was happy with it. Even after 4 kids I was able to lose weight by simply thinking about it. And eating one less cookie after dinner. But, I never really dieted or worked out and was still able to lose 30-45 pounds without trying.
Then I had my Hazel. Ok, in reality, I had major gall bladder issues and I only gained a total of 8 pounds in the pregnancy. She was almost 8 pounds at birth. You do the math.. I lost a lot of fat during that gall bladder hell. After Hazel, I looked better than I had in years. I was fabulous. Then my thyroid decided to kick me down a few notches. I had it removed (finding out only afterward that it had cancer growing in it) and started slowly but surely gaining weight. Great.
I cut out a cookie here and there and it didn't help. What?! You mean I am going to have to actually... TRY?!?! Ugh. So I tried watching what I ate. Kind of. I mean if you consider getting less mayo on my sub or not super sizing my combo.. then yeah. I watched it. It didn't help. I even worked out a couple of times. With a few months rest in between. It hurts the next day, ya know?
I thought there might be something wrong with me. I went to the doctor, as I am required to do every 3months, and cried to her about how I kept gaining. I have gained almost 50 pounds since having my thyroid removed. After blood testing, and a lot of tweaking of my medication, it turns out it probably isn't a medical thing. Is it impossible for me to lose weight now that I don't have a thyroid?! What have I done?!
My husband and I did a fast several months back. We cut out fried, greasy, and sweet foods. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. No sweet tea. No chocolate. You can imagine how pleasant and patient I was. After the first week I was a peach. Then I stepped on the scale. I had lost 7 pounds. Hmm.
I lost 30 pounds in a matter of weeks after a bad breakup many years ago. I had not cut any food out. I guess I was eating out less, but the reality was that I was going out. A lot. I had been going out to the pub with my sister every weekend to go dancing. We weren't even necessarily getting drunk (actually, we probably were). But we would dance. We would dance until we were covered in our own sweat, and probably each others too. We didn't feel the exhaustion in our muscles until we went home.
I needed something like that. Only, there is no way I am going to hang at the pub every weekend. So, I tried Zumba. Well, actually, my lovely husband bought it for me years ago and I took it out of the package all of 3 times. I think I have actually done it twice now. It is ok, but its kind of hard to keep up and I couldn't imagine even attempting to do it with other people. Especially if they all look like the girls on the video. Geez.
My Hazel was awake until 1am last night and I couldn't fall asleep until I knew she had. Needless to say, today was a rough start. I was exhausted all morning and couldn't wait until nap time. I was definitely going to snuggle up in my warm cozy bed for a few hours. Then I passed a mirror.
Here's the thing, I have the reverse of an eating disorder. I have heard that people who suffer from anorexia or bulimia don't see themselves how we see them when they look in a mirror. They see someone much bigger and chunkier than they actually are. When I look in a mirror, however, I see someone who aint half bad. Go get 'em girl ;)
But today, I wasn't happy with the person looking back at me. That woman was tired. Exhausted. Bags under her eyes and a rapidly growing double chin. When did I get to this point? My eyes have always been eyes that saw beauty in everything. Everyone. Even myself. Even at my worst times in life. It's how I have kept going through all the junk. Seeing the bright side and the beauty in the midst of the storms. But today... I saw a cranky, tired, ragged looking sad woman with dead eyes. Yuck.
So, I got on my sports bra. (I despise this thing. It literally crushes my boobs and feels like I am getting a mammogram. But, it's pretty dandy to have around when you get to jumping and running, ya know?) I tied my disheveled hair into a bun and grabbed my earbuds. I climbed onto the elliptical and started off slow. I decided I didn't want to push myself too much and wind up quitting. I checked the clock to make sure I don't go a minute over 15 minutes. Slowly at first and building some speed. Then a song came on and began serenading me through my earbuds.
"I can feel your healing oil running down my brow. I wouldn't trade another lifetime for how I feel right now." Eyes closed, one hand gripping the elliptical, and the other raised in surrender. My legs began moving faster and faster and I could no longer feel the burn in my thighs. All I could feel was release. Before I knew what had happened I was sobbing and singing and running with everything in my being. (I am not talking sweet sobs either, I was wailing.) Letting all the pent up emotion, stress, exhaustion just release from my soul. It was exactly what the song claimed. Healing oil. I could literally feel it running down my brow (sure it was sweat, but it was pretty profound at the time).
When the song ended, I climbed off and felt a surge of energy. I felt relief. What could I do next?! I threw down 100 sit ups and 100 push ups and got back on the elliptical. This time there was no sobbing. I was energetic and excited and filled with joy! My time was almost up when Dance came pumping through my earbuds. Once again, I was lost in the worship. I was rocking that elliptical, pumping my arms in the air, making a complete fool of myself (ah who cares, only the dogs could see me and although they looked pretty embarrassed, I don't think they will tell anyone). I was smiling so hard my face hurt. I couldn't help it!
When the song ended, I stepped off the elliptical and checked the clock. I had gone well over my second set of 15 minutes and sweat was pouring from me. Every muscle in my body currently feels like jelly, but my spirit sings! I feel free. I feel energized. I feel pure and complete joy. Unspeakable joy. I am hoping this is a new journey to a new me. Maybe I will write more on this. Either way, worship isn't just singing. It takes on all forms. Today, my work out was my worship. And maybe I will see that fun, bright eyed, life-loving, beauty-seeking woman next time I pass by my mirror. Maybe I will see what God sees. And maybe I will defeat the dreaded double chin. (By my 30th birthday? Maybe.. we shall see...)
Then I had my Hazel. Ok, in reality, I had major gall bladder issues and I only gained a total of 8 pounds in the pregnancy. She was almost 8 pounds at birth. You do the math.. I lost a lot of fat during that gall bladder hell. After Hazel, I looked better than I had in years. I was fabulous. Then my thyroid decided to kick me down a few notches. I had it removed (finding out only afterward that it had cancer growing in it) and started slowly but surely gaining weight. Great.
I cut out a cookie here and there and it didn't help. What?! You mean I am going to have to actually... TRY?!?! Ugh. So I tried watching what I ate. Kind of. I mean if you consider getting less mayo on my sub or not super sizing my combo.. then yeah. I watched it. It didn't help. I even worked out a couple of times. With a few months rest in between. It hurts the next day, ya know?
I thought there might be something wrong with me. I went to the doctor, as I am required to do every 3months, and cried to her about how I kept gaining. I have gained almost 50 pounds since having my thyroid removed. After blood testing, and a lot of tweaking of my medication, it turns out it probably isn't a medical thing. Is it impossible for me to lose weight now that I don't have a thyroid?! What have I done?!
My husband and I did a fast several months back. We cut out fried, greasy, and sweet foods. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. No sweet tea. No chocolate. You can imagine how pleasant and patient I was. After the first week I was a peach. Then I stepped on the scale. I had lost 7 pounds. Hmm.
I lost 30 pounds in a matter of weeks after a bad breakup many years ago. I had not cut any food out. I guess I was eating out less, but the reality was that I was going out. A lot. I had been going out to the pub with my sister every weekend to go dancing. We weren't even necessarily getting drunk (actually, we probably were). But we would dance. We would dance until we were covered in our own sweat, and probably each others too. We didn't feel the exhaustion in our muscles until we went home.
I needed something like that. Only, there is no way I am going to hang at the pub every weekend. So, I tried Zumba. Well, actually, my lovely husband bought it for me years ago and I took it out of the package all of 3 times. I think I have actually done it twice now. It is ok, but its kind of hard to keep up and I couldn't imagine even attempting to do it with other people. Especially if they all look like the girls on the video. Geez.
My Hazel was awake until 1am last night and I couldn't fall asleep until I knew she had. Needless to say, today was a rough start. I was exhausted all morning and couldn't wait until nap time. I was definitely going to snuggle up in my warm cozy bed for a few hours. Then I passed a mirror.
Here's the thing, I have the reverse of an eating disorder. I have heard that people who suffer from anorexia or bulimia don't see themselves how we see them when they look in a mirror. They see someone much bigger and chunkier than they actually are. When I look in a mirror, however, I see someone who aint half bad. Go get 'em girl ;) But today, I wasn't happy with the person looking back at me. That woman was tired. Exhausted. Bags under her eyes and a rapidly growing double chin. When did I get to this point? My eyes have always been eyes that saw beauty in everything. Everyone. Even myself. Even at my worst times in life. It's how I have kept going through all the junk. Seeing the bright side and the beauty in the midst of the storms. But today... I saw a cranky, tired, ragged looking sad woman with dead eyes. Yuck.
So, I got on my sports bra. (I despise this thing. It literally crushes my boobs and feels like I am getting a mammogram. But, it's pretty dandy to have around when you get to jumping and running, ya know?) I tied my disheveled hair into a bun and grabbed my earbuds. I climbed onto the elliptical and started off slow. I decided I didn't want to push myself too much and wind up quitting. I checked the clock to make sure I don't go a minute over 15 minutes. Slowly at first and building some speed. Then a song came on and began serenading me through my earbuds.
"I can feel your healing oil running down my brow. I wouldn't trade another lifetime for how I feel right now." Eyes closed, one hand gripping the elliptical, and the other raised in surrender. My legs began moving faster and faster and I could no longer feel the burn in my thighs. All I could feel was release. Before I knew what had happened I was sobbing and singing and running with everything in my being. (I am not talking sweet sobs either, I was wailing.) Letting all the pent up emotion, stress, exhaustion just release from my soul. It was exactly what the song claimed. Healing oil. I could literally feel it running down my brow (sure it was sweat, but it was pretty profound at the time).
When the song ended, I climbed off and felt a surge of energy. I felt relief. What could I do next?! I threw down 100 sit ups and 100 push ups and got back on the elliptical. This time there was no sobbing. I was energetic and excited and filled with joy! My time was almost up when Dance came pumping through my earbuds. Once again, I was lost in the worship. I was rocking that elliptical, pumping my arms in the air, making a complete fool of myself (ah who cares, only the dogs could see me and although they looked pretty embarrassed, I don't think they will tell anyone). I was smiling so hard my face hurt. I couldn't help it!
When the song ended, I stepped off the elliptical and checked the clock. I had gone well over my second set of 15 minutes and sweat was pouring from me. Every muscle in my body currently feels like jelly, but my spirit sings! I feel free. I feel energized. I feel pure and complete joy. Unspeakable joy. I am hoping this is a new journey to a new me. Maybe I will write more on this. Either way, worship isn't just singing. It takes on all forms. Today, my work out was my worship. And maybe I will see that fun, bright eyed, life-loving, beauty-seeking woman next time I pass by my mirror. Maybe I will see what God sees. And maybe I will defeat the dreaded double chin. (By my 30th birthday? Maybe.. we shall see...)
Friday, December 5, 2014
... And Counting...
As you already know, my husband and I have 5 beautiful girls. The initial reaction we get from people when they learn this is shock. Surprise. Amazement. My favorite one is pity. That's right. Some people feel bad for us! I take a look around at some of the kids I see when we are out and about and I get it. If my girls were out of control, disrespectful, terrifying little beasts, then yes. I would appreciate all the pity I could get. And wine. Lots of wine.
But, fortunately, I am not an alcoholic. In fact, I rarely drink at all. My girls don't "drive me to drink". They make me laugh. They show me the world through different eyes. They inspire me. I want to enjoy the littlest of things that I often take for granted, and my girls remind me to do so.
Ever since my husband and I started our fabulous journey together, we have discussed taking in even more kids one day. Foster kids. Kids who have been taken from their homes because of one reason or another. Hurting kids who are confused, scared, sad, and unfortunately sometimes abused or neglected. It kills me to know that these kids may not have a loving and safe place to land during this time. This is where we will step in.
I know what you're thinking. More kids?! Seriously?! That's right, folks. For some reason, God chose us crazy people to help his lost, abandoned, neglected, and hurting babies. What about your kids?! Well, our girls are thrilled with the idea! They love the idea of having more sisters and maybe even a few brothers. Lila has already begun planning where a bunk bed will go so she can share her room. (Her idea, not ours.) Luciana is of course thrilled to help out others, as long as they aren't older than her. Grace has the same request. Mike and I definitely agree. We want our girls to be positive role models for these kids and influence them in a loving-big-sister kind of way.
I could go over all the details of what our family has agreed on. Boy or girl? Sibling group? Special needs? It's a lot of details that really don't matter to you, so I won't bore you. They are things that our family has discussed because we need to do what's best for everyone.
What we know is this. There are a lot of jacked up kids out there with nobody to love them. A wise and wonderful woman once told me, "Love your kids more than the world will." The world is cruel, cold, selfish, neglectful. It will only offer judgment, condemnation, ridicule, expectations, and competition. I choose to love my kids more than the world could ever dream. But God gave me a ridiculously big heart with enough love for other people's kids too. So, why not show them the love, grace, mercy, acceptance, kindness, and compassion that they may have never known?
We have begun our classes that are required to become foster parents. We are going to go through all the motions and take this one step at a time. Each child placed with us will be exactly where he or she is meant to be during this time and we won't screw it up. We are grateful to even be offered the opportunity. Sure, there will be heartache and pain at times, but that is all a part of life. If you sprain your ankle during the best dance of your life... well you still had the best dance of your life, eh?
**I dare you to watch this and not feel something. Honestly, it was this video that inspired me not to wait. To start the process now. If you have questions about becoming a foster parent, ask me! If you are interested, you can also contact your local Department of Family and Child Services office. They can help you too :)
But, fortunately, I am not an alcoholic. In fact, I rarely drink at all. My girls don't "drive me to drink". They make me laugh. They show me the world through different eyes. They inspire me. I want to enjoy the littlest of things that I often take for granted, and my girls remind me to do so.
Ever since my husband and I started our fabulous journey together, we have discussed taking in even more kids one day. Foster kids. Kids who have been taken from their homes because of one reason or another. Hurting kids who are confused, scared, sad, and unfortunately sometimes abused or neglected. It kills me to know that these kids may not have a loving and safe place to land during this time. This is where we will step in.
I know what you're thinking. More kids?! Seriously?! That's right, folks. For some reason, God chose us crazy people to help his lost, abandoned, neglected, and hurting babies. What about your kids?! Well, our girls are thrilled with the idea! They love the idea of having more sisters and maybe even a few brothers. Lila has already begun planning where a bunk bed will go so she can share her room. (Her idea, not ours.) Luciana is of course thrilled to help out others, as long as they aren't older than her. Grace has the same request. Mike and I definitely agree. We want our girls to be positive role models for these kids and influence them in a loving-big-sister kind of way. I could go over all the details of what our family has agreed on. Boy or girl? Sibling group? Special needs? It's a lot of details that really don't matter to you, so I won't bore you. They are things that our family has discussed because we need to do what's best for everyone.
What we know is this. There are a lot of jacked up kids out there with nobody to love them. A wise and wonderful woman once told me, "Love your kids more than the world will." The world is cruel, cold, selfish, neglectful. It will only offer judgment, condemnation, ridicule, expectations, and competition. I choose to love my kids more than the world could ever dream. But God gave me a ridiculously big heart with enough love for other people's kids too. So, why not show them the love, grace, mercy, acceptance, kindness, and compassion that they may have never known?
**I dare you to watch this and not feel something. Honestly, it was this video that inspired me not to wait. To start the process now. If you have questions about becoming a foster parent, ask me! If you are interested, you can also contact your local Department of Family and Child Services office. They can help you too :)
Sunday, November 30, 2014
My Healing
I had an experience that has changed my life. It has redefined my past. It has
unclouded my present. It has brightened my future. I won’t tell you about the place I went to, but I will share my story with you. After all, that is the whole point. October 2nd through the 5th of 2014 was just for me. God set everything into motion. There were many moving parts and they were all oiled to perfection. There was not one coincidence or accident. Every moment (from the prayers that were spoken to the times I went to the bathroom) was ordained by God, for me.
It was said to me that sin is not what sends us to hell. Not lying, not stealing, not adultery, not rape, not even murder. What keeps us out of Heaven... is not accepting God’s grace. See, all those sins have been bought and paid for! It’s done! The bill was paid and the receipt we have to prove it is the scars on the hands, feet, and side of Jesus! It’s done. All we have to do is accept this grace that has been freely offered us.
I thought I had accepted God’s grace, and for most things in my life I had. I thought this didn’t really pertain to me... but I was wrong. Remember how every word and every moment was just for me? Matthew 6:15 says, “But if you do not forgive others their sins, the Father will not forgive your sins. Hmm... I had forgiven everyone, right? I had forgiven my parents, my husband, my ex husband, my friends, and anyone who had wronged me. Right? Wrong. I quickly learned that while I had forgiven those who wronged me on a very broad scale, there were still significant moments in my life that I needed to specifically let go of. Unforgiveness was keeping me from receiving God’s grace.
When I was little, my parents loved me. They told me all the time that I was their princess. And they loved each other dearly (or so I thought). See, I rarely saw my parents fight, so I assumed life was great. You can imagine my utter shock and disappointment when I learned one day that my parents were to be divorced. My dad picked up and moved across the country and left me behind. I tried to chase after him. I called and wrote letters. I begged to visit, but he was busy with his own life and had seemingly moved on from the one he shared with me.
There was one specific moment that sticks out. I had learned about pen pals in school and I thought it was a brilliant idea for my dad and I to do this. I rushed home to write him a letter and I couldn’t wait to get a stamp from my mom and send it off in the incredibly exciting mailbox. I checked the mailbox daily and I waited. I had faith in my daddy. He wouldn’t let me down because he called me his princess. You don’t let down a princess.
Day after day I checked the mailbox, and day after day I was disappointed. Finally, the best day ever came and I had a letter waiting on me in that magical box! I rushed inside and tore that sucker open so fast! I read the letter. It didn’t take long because it was very short. I don’t remember what else my dad had to say other than he couldn’t be my pen pal, because he couldn’t afford stamps. Devastation. Keeping an open communication with me wasn’t worth the 35 cents. I wasn’t worth 35 cents. I wasn’t enough.
Fast forward to when I was 19 years old. I had a 2 year old and an infant. I was self destructive and had no self worth. I didn’t care about myself and I surely didn’t care about my body. Men could do whatever they wanted with it. Even men I had just met. I was fresh out of a verbally and mentally abusive relationship with an alcoholic. I began seeing other men and one fateful day I discovered I was pregnant. How could this happen? I always told people it was my ex boyfriend’s baby. To those people, I am truly sorry for my deceit. The truth is, I don’t know whose baby it was. I traced the calendar and came up with a pretty good idea, but I am still not sure.
I struggled with what to do. I was a single mom living at home with my own mom. I honestly don’t even think I had a job at this point. I knew I couldn’t have another baby. The problem, I was too selfish to give it away and I didn’t believe in abortion. I waited and waited. Praying for a miscarriage.
Finally I called up my best friend and asked her to take me to a clinic downtown to discuss abortion. She took me, without question. When we got there, there were people outside with signs calling me a murderer. Telling me I was killing a baby and that I was a mommy right at that moment. I kept my head down and kept walking. my fearless friend holding my arm and supporting me the entire way. Once inside the people working there began to explain the process to me and asked me if I was sure. They did some blood work and sent me home.
There was a 24 hour waiting period. It felt like an eternity. I could feel the weight of what I was doing like a wet blanket and I just wanted to get it over with so I could ask God for forgiveness. That’s how it works right?
Well a couple days later we went back to the clinic. They were wary of performing the abortion because the labs showed I was a few days over 12 weeks pregnant. The law in Minnesota stated that I couldn’t be over 12 weeks pregnant to terminate. The nurse fudged the paperwork and brought me into the procedure room. There was a huge glass jar attached to some machine with a vacuum hose. It looked like something out of a horror movie, so I quickly changed, laid down, and closed my eyes. The nurse could see my distress and quickly gave me some medication that made me giggle. Seriously. Giggle... like a lot! I laid there as they vacuumed the baby out of my body. I was laughing because of the pictures of kittens on the ceiling. I couldn’t figure out if the kitten was supposed to make me feel better about all this, but either way the drugs made sure nothing hurt.. not even my heart or my conscience. It was soon over and they sent me home.
As we pulled into my mom’s driveway, I saw her out pulling weeds in her garden. I was woozy and was instructed to lay down for the first 24 hours because of the bleeding that was to occur. My mom asked me to help her carry some heavy bags of soil and I told her I couldn’t. She asked me why and I would’ve lied to her.. but the guilt was already too heavy to bear, I couldn’t add more to it. I told her I needed to tell her something and we went to sit in the living room. I told her I had just had an abortion. I wish I could tell you this is where she came to my side, hugged me, kissed me, prayed with me.... but that is far from the case. She looked at me stunned. The anger and disappointment began to build in her and all she could do was scream, “MURDERER!”.
See, my mom is human. She is a person like you and I and she has emotions that she can't lie about. She was bowled over by a shocking statement that I threw out at her without warning. She hadn't seen this coming. How could she? I had already had 2 babies. I valued life. I loved my children. Being a young mom of two, how could I have been so irresponsible? How could I have been so foolish and weak? How come I didn't learn from my actions? She responded out of her emotion. Her pain, her fear, her heart breaking at all the things that had just happened. I do not hate her for how she reacted. I am not upset in the least. She is a fantastic mom and took care of me and loved me when I was unlovable. But right at this moment, in her emotion- I was judged. I was condemned. I was not enough for her to show me mercy and compassion. I was not enough.
Before I go on, I want to add something. If you are a woman and you have had a baby, I know you have googled each and every week and milestone of your pregnancy. Well, I did the same. When I was pregnant with my beautiful Lila Ruth, I googled each week and learned of how much my baby was growing. I always got a little stung when week 12 would come along.
Babycenter.com says this about a 12 week old fetus: The most dramatic development this
week: reflexes. Your baby's fingers will soon begin to open and close, his toes will curl, his eye muscles will clench, and his mouth will make sucking movements. In fact, if you prod your abdomen, your baby will squirm in response, although you won't be able to feel it. His face look unquestionable human. From crown to rump, your baby to be is just over 2 inches long (about the size of a lime) and weighs half an ounce.
I was able to move on from my abortion fairly quickly, justifying that I saved that “thing” from having to struggle with a mama who already struggled with her other kids. I repented, but I didn’t mean it. Had I been able to go back in time, I would’ve done it again.
2 years ago I read Heaven Is For Real. That testimony rocked my world. It made me view my ‘fetus’ as a baby. As an actual person. I had to face the fact that my baby had a face. He had a beautiful little mouth that could suckle. He had fingers and toes that he was practising moving. He was big enough to fit in the palm of my hand. And most importantly, he could feel. Remember how babycenter said when you poke your abdomen, baby would move... that’s because he could FEEL. When I killed my baby and had him vacuumed from my body... he felt that. I did that to him. Reading that, I knew my mom was right. I really was a murderer. I finally repented for real. I asked for God’s forgiveness, because I would have never walked through those doors if I could change what I had done. My baby was a person. Formed by God in His image. He was being held and loved and cared for by the Father. I felt certain that I didn’t deserve that baby. I would never hold that baby in Heaven. I would never lay eyes on him. I didn’t deserve it. I wasn’t enough.
These events in my life I thought I had dealt with. I had only scratched the surface. I have spent the last 20 years of my life trying to be enough. I would do anything and everything to make you like me. I would change and mold my likes and dislikes. I would inconvenience my life and make myself miserable, if that is what it took to please you. I had to keep having babies because I was desperately trying to show God, my mom, whatever boyfriend I was with, and the world that I could atone for my sins. That I could be enough. I started working with the Children’s Church at RC, trying to make it up to God. My husband and I are going to begin foster care training this fall. I have been desperately trying to earn God’s grace. To show Him that I can be enough. Problem is... grace can’t be earned.
I realized that weekend that I had to forgive my dad for making me feel like I wasn’t enough. I had to forgive him deeply. Because of his actions, I had been treating God like he was my earthly father. I had been treating Him like He was the one who treated me as if I was disposable. As if I wasn’t worth 35 cents. I had to forgive my mom for her lack of mercy, grace, and compassion. I had to forgive her for not loving me in my darkest hour. I had to forgive my best friend for never trying to stop me.
Mostly, I had to forgive myself. I had been so wrong for so long. I had wrongly treated God for the actions of my father, but most importantly I had to forgive myself for having
that abortion. For killing my beautiful baby. I realized this past weekend that I never mourned for that baby. I didn’t feel like I had the right to. So, you can imagine the roaring sobs that came from this crybaby that night. I allowed myself to let go of my own throat. I allowed myself to mourn the death of my baby. I allowed myself the audacity to even pray and ask God to reveal details about that baby. And you know what? God, in all His abundant love.. lavished me with grace. He showed me my baby boy. The only baby boy my body has ever made. Not only that, but he told me his name. Josiah Andrew. You have to understand, this can only be from God. I would never name my child such a name. I am not highly attracted to Josiah, and Andrew happens to be my ex husband.... But God later revealed to me that Josiah Andrew has deep meaning in Hebrew.
Josiah means Jehovah heals, and Andrew means man or warrior. God named my baby: God
heals His warrior. Perfect, isn’t it?
God used the mouths of several people to speak to me. The theme He kept repeating, was “You are enough. You are enough.” Once I was able to let go of the past junk that I held onto to so tightly, my eyes were opened and I could finally see. God gave me these girls because he loves me. Because he trusts me with them. Because I am enough. God gave me the Children’s Ministry at RC because he loves me. Because he trusts me with the spiritual guidance of all these babies. Because I am enough. God put fostering on my heart because he even trusts me with babies that have been broken, abused, hurt, abandoned, and neglected. He trusts me with his most precious creation. Because I am enough.
I still have the same hearts desires I had before. Serving women and children and showing them their eternal worth but now it is for different reasons. For godly reasons. For pure and unselfish reasons. I was gone for 3 days in the wilderness with God where he spoke tenderly to my heart. I gained a daddy who will never fail me. I gained a baby boy who is waiting on me in Heaven. I gained a purpose. I gained a new perspective on life, love, marriage, children, everything! My husband has never been so gorgeous to me. My children have never smelled so wonderful to me. My home has never felt more peaceful. My heart is finally free to accept the grace that God has been waiting to pour on me. When people tell you that accepting Jesus will bring a transformation, and it is so true. I am transformed. I am free... and I am enough.
Isaiah 43:18-19 NIV
"Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland.
Thank God for gloves. And Nyquil.
It all started the middle of October. Sophia was complaining of a stomachache and headache. It seemed that it was especially at night, so I brushed it off as her stalling the dreaded bedtime. But the complaints were becoming more frequent and were after mealtimes as well. This had me wondering if there was something to this. Then the fever hit. Oh geez.
After calling the appointment line for Winn Army Community Hospital. (If you are now or have ever been stationed here, you know why I wait until it's absolutely necessary (by this I mean bleeding out of the eyes kind of serious) to have to call or go in there for an appointment...) After listening to the incredible jazz saxophone rendition of Alicia Keys for the third time, a human actually answered the phone. Hallelujah!
Wait. Hold that praise.
Unfortunately, Mrs McLaughlin, there are no appointments available for today. Or tomorrow. Or this week. Or this month. Or ever!!
Well this just won't do. Now what? My options are:
The next day, we weren't even out of the church parking lot when I was already on hold for Tricare yet again. My ear had been killing me for a week. It hurt so bad, and now I wasn't even able to hear out of it. I got my referral and drove myself, and 6 kids to Urgent Care yet again.(I had my friend's daughter staying with us for a couple weeks- she's basically one of my kids.) The doctor was thoroughly impressed with the amount of fluid and blood in my ear. In case you don't know... you don't ever want your doctor to ever be impressed with any part of your body. So he started me on antibiotics and even gave me something for the pain.
A few days later, I had two kids complaining of sore throats... Deep breaths... Luckily I called Tricare at about 4pm and this time, I had 7 kids at the clinic with me. That's right, folks, another one of my friends was out of town for work and I had her daughter with me as well. (If you are curious where my hubby is this whole time... in the field. In a tent. So I wasn't pissy that he was able to avoid all this mess.) They ran tests on every single one of my children and discovered that most of them had strep. Also, Sophia wasn't responding to her medication and was beginning to develop a Scarlet Fever rash. So drugs all around! Now I felt like a nurse at a mental hospital. Twice a day I yelled- MEDICINE TIME... and the girls all lined up in the kitchen, waiting their turn. Luckily most of it was liquid, so I didn't have to check cheeks.
Everyone is good now, right? The entire house is disinfected. The smell of Lysol fills every room. Ahh... sanitary. Wrong. November 3 was a Monday. It was my sweet Sophia's first ever field trip and I was so excited to join her. My back had been aching for a few days, but I brushed it off as my needing to go to the chiropractor. We went to Poppell Farms. It was fantastic. Quite a fun place for little ones. By the time we got to sit down for lunch, I was dizzy. Lightheaded and confused as to why. I told the teacher I had to leave, and we hurried to the car. On the way home, I called my husband. I didn't know what to do but I needed a hospital. I was afraid of crashing the car, but I somehow made it home and waited for Mike to come and take me to the doctor. He called and got us into the Urgent Care again. They ran a test for the flu and it came back positive. I had Flu B Virus. Kill me.
I was miserable and every bone in my body ached. Even my teeth. My eyes felt like they were being squeezed and I could feel my brain bashing against the side of my skull every time I moved my head. I had a fever that was up to 105 at times and I was ready to die. Take me home, Jesus. I am done. But, Jesus had other plans and after several days in bed, I started feeling better. Just in time for the rest of my family to get sick. Wonderful.
Before the flu was completely healed from the house, my sweet Lila came to me complaining that her bum was itchy. It had been itchy for a few weeks and while my first reaction was hygiene- go take a freaking shower, already! I was now starting to get suspicious. I looked at her backside and it looked fine. Not red. No rash. Nothing. She began telling me that it hurt on the inside. Uh.. what?! So after asking her a series of delicate- has anyone touched you there- questions, I decided it was time to call the doctor.
After jamming to Alicia Keys for a bit, the hospital was able to squeeze me in. I took Lila the next day to see one of the grumpiest women I have ever had the pleasure of smiling at. She was very disappointed that I didn't know the color, texture, or frequency of my 8 year old daughter's poo. No, ma'am, I stopped changing her diapers a few years back... She told me that they thought it was pinworms. Again, kill me. I needed to do a test. This included a fancy medical looking stick with tape on the end. I was supposed to sneak into my daughter's room at 4am, pull her pants down, spread open her bum, and stick these tape sticks around her rectum. Like a ninja. Yeah, nobody is going to freak out here... Then I had to take the sticks into the lab to be tested to see if there was worm eggs on it. Apparently these little worms live in your intestines and come out at night to lay eggs on your anus. Fun, eh? Don't be jealous, it's apparently incredibly common and contagious- especially among school age kids.
A dear friend of mine told me a sweet trick, so I can avoid scarring my daughter for life. She said to shine a flashlight at my kid's bum and if there was worms, they would come to the light. I did it. A tiny white threadlike worm came busting out- causing me to vomit in my mouth and want to run for my life. Turns out, however, that this is so common, that they sell the medication for it at CVS. Thank you Jesus. We were able to start my Lila on the meds immediately and we treated the entire family- just to be sure. The next day, I deep cleaned and sanitized the entire house. This includes vacuuming and bleaching everyone's mattresses. Yeah. I mean business.
So we are finally out the woods, right?! Three plagues in a month is good enough. Leave us alone, now. Wrong again. I got a call from school on Monday November 17th telling me that Sophia needed to be picked up right away because she had a fever. When I got to school, they informed me that Sophia had thrown up a couple of times since they called. Dear God, why is this happening to us?!
It has now been a week since I picked up Sophia from school and that virus has run through each and every one of us. The cough, runny nose, and sore throat lingers a bit on a few of my girls, but for the most part it is over. Will that be the last of the plagues that are hitting the McLaughlin family?! Who knows?? All I know is this.... I am exhausted. I now have turned my kitchen cupboard into a medicine cabinet to hold the mass quantities of drugs that we have had to acquire in order to survive these plagues. I feel like a drug dealer, a pharmacist, and a nurse all at the same time. I have seen things I never wanted to see and worse, I have done things I never wanted to do. All I can say is, thank God for rubber gloves. And Nyquil.
After calling the appointment line for Winn Army Community Hospital. (If you are now or have ever been stationed here, you know why I wait until it's absolutely necessary (by this I mean bleeding out of the eyes kind of serious) to have to call or go in there for an appointment...) After listening to the incredible jazz saxophone rendition of Alicia Keys for the third time, a human actually answered the phone. Hallelujah!
Wait. Hold that praise.
Unfortunately, Mrs McLaughlin, there are no appointments available for today. Or tomorrow. Or this week. Or this month. Or ever!!
Well this just won't do. Now what? My options are:
- Go to the emergency room at Winn and sit in the tiny disease, virus, and bacteria infested waiting room with 30 other coughing, sneezing, vomiting, crying, sleeping sick people for at least 6 hours while you wait to be called back. Once called back, don't worry, while you will no longer be forced to watch another episode of One Life To Live, you will be subject to yet another very long wait. At least you can listen to the chatting of the doctors and nurses about their personal lives and drama. That can be interesting in itself. Once Dr Notevenclosetomcdreamy finally comes in, he will take one look at you, prescribe you ibuprofen or broad spectrum antibiotics and send you on your way.
- Call Tricare and wait on hold for what feels like eternity before someone finally answers, only they don't speak English very well. So, good luck getting that referral to urgent care. Oh, and if you call before 3pm on a weekday, they tell you where you can shove your sickness and laugh in your face.
The next day, we weren't even out of the church parking lot when I was already on hold for Tricare yet again. My ear had been killing me for a week. It hurt so bad, and now I wasn't even able to hear out of it. I got my referral and drove myself, and 6 kids to Urgent Care yet again.(I had my friend's daughter staying with us for a couple weeks- she's basically one of my kids.) The doctor was thoroughly impressed with the amount of fluid and blood in my ear. In case you don't know... you don't ever want your doctor to ever be impressed with any part of your body. So he started me on antibiotics and even gave me something for the pain. A few days later, I had two kids complaining of sore throats... Deep breaths... Luckily I called Tricare at about 4pm and this time, I had 7 kids at the clinic with me. That's right, folks, another one of my friends was out of town for work and I had her daughter with me as well. (If you are curious where my hubby is this whole time... in the field. In a tent. So I wasn't pissy that he was able to avoid all this mess.) They ran tests on every single one of my children and discovered that most of them had strep. Also, Sophia wasn't responding to her medication and was beginning to develop a Scarlet Fever rash. So drugs all around! Now I felt like a nurse at a mental hospital. Twice a day I yelled- MEDICINE TIME... and the girls all lined up in the kitchen, waiting their turn. Luckily most of it was liquid, so I didn't have to check cheeks.
Everyone is good now, right? The entire house is disinfected. The smell of Lysol fills every room. Ahh... sanitary. Wrong. November 3 was a Monday. It was my sweet Sophia's first ever field trip and I was so excited to join her. My back had been aching for a few days, but I brushed it off as my needing to go to the chiropractor. We went to Poppell Farms. It was fantastic. Quite a fun place for little ones. By the time we got to sit down for lunch, I was dizzy. Lightheaded and confused as to why. I told the teacher I had to leave, and we hurried to the car. On the way home, I called my husband. I didn't know what to do but I needed a hospital. I was afraid of crashing the car, but I somehow made it home and waited for Mike to come and take me to the doctor. He called and got us into the Urgent Care again. They ran a test for the flu and it came back positive. I had Flu B Virus. Kill me.
I was miserable and every bone in my body ached. Even my teeth. My eyes felt like they were being squeezed and I could feel my brain bashing against the side of my skull every time I moved my head. I had a fever that was up to 105 at times and I was ready to die. Take me home, Jesus. I am done. But, Jesus had other plans and after several days in bed, I started feeling better. Just in time for the rest of my family to get sick. Wonderful.
Before the flu was completely healed from the house, my sweet Lila came to me complaining that her bum was itchy. It had been itchy for a few weeks and while my first reaction was hygiene- go take a freaking shower, already! I was now starting to get suspicious. I looked at her backside and it looked fine. Not red. No rash. Nothing. She began telling me that it hurt on the inside. Uh.. what?! So after asking her a series of delicate- has anyone touched you there- questions, I decided it was time to call the doctor.
After jamming to Alicia Keys for a bit, the hospital was able to squeeze me in. I took Lila the next day to see one of the grumpiest women I have ever had the pleasure of smiling at. She was very disappointed that I didn't know the color, texture, or frequency of my 8 year old daughter's poo. No, ma'am, I stopped changing her diapers a few years back... She told me that they thought it was pinworms. Again, kill me. I needed to do a test. This included a fancy medical looking stick with tape on the end. I was supposed to sneak into my daughter's room at 4am, pull her pants down, spread open her bum, and stick these tape sticks around her rectum. Like a ninja. Yeah, nobody is going to freak out here... Then I had to take the sticks into the lab to be tested to see if there was worm eggs on it. Apparently these little worms live in your intestines and come out at night to lay eggs on your anus. Fun, eh? Don't be jealous, it's apparently incredibly common and contagious- especially among school age kids.
A dear friend of mine told me a sweet trick, so I can avoid scarring my daughter for life. She said to shine a flashlight at my kid's bum and if there was worms, they would come to the light. I did it. A tiny white threadlike worm came busting out- causing me to vomit in my mouth and want to run for my life. Turns out, however, that this is so common, that they sell the medication for it at CVS. Thank you Jesus. We were able to start my Lila on the meds immediately and we treated the entire family- just to be sure. The next day, I deep cleaned and sanitized the entire house. This includes vacuuming and bleaching everyone's mattresses. Yeah. I mean business.
So we are finally out the woods, right?! Three plagues in a month is good enough. Leave us alone, now. Wrong again. I got a call from school on Monday November 17th telling me that Sophia needed to be picked up right away because she had a fever. When I got to school, they informed me that Sophia had thrown up a couple of times since they called. Dear God, why is this happening to us?!It has now been a week since I picked up Sophia from school and that virus has run through each and every one of us. The cough, runny nose, and sore throat lingers a bit on a few of my girls, but for the most part it is over. Will that be the last of the plagues that are hitting the McLaughlin family?! Who knows?? All I know is this.... I am exhausted. I now have turned my kitchen cupboard into a medicine cabinet to hold the mass quantities of drugs that we have had to acquire in order to survive these plagues. I feel like a drug dealer, a pharmacist, and a nurse all at the same time. I have seen things I never wanted to see and worse, I have done things I never wanted to do. All I can say is, thank God for rubber gloves. And Nyquil.
Monday, November 17, 2014
There's An Army Rising Up
You know you're doing something right when everything decides to go wrong. At least that tends to be my experience when I don't arm myself well. There is a reason 'The Armor of God' is in the Bible, you know. Ephesians 6:10-18 explains what this is and it's importance.
Verse 13 in the Message version says: Be prepared. You’re up against far more than you can handle on your own. Take all the help you can get, every weapon God has issued, so that when it’s all over but the shouting you’ll still be on your feet.
That's the goal here. To remain standing. To not be knocked down and left beaten and defeated. The closer you grow to God and the more you obey Him, the more the enemy wants to get you. The enemy absolutely hates it when we follow Christ and are obedient to His will. The more you do for God, the bigger the target is on your back. That is why it is so crucial to arm ourselves. You wouldn't step foot onto a battlefield without a weapon and armor, so why would you face the enemy of your soul empty-handed and naked?!
I recently was helping a friend through a struggle of hers. I was using my own life as an example, because we have similar situations. We are both at a crossroads as to whether we stay in the Army or get out. I explained all the reasons why my husband and I do not think getting out of the Army would be a good idea for our family. I told her how financially, it would be a struggle. Mike would have to get an exceptional job to make up for the money we are bringing in now. Not to mention medical insurance and other benefits.
I also mentioned our spiritual wellbeing. Let's be real honest here... Mike and I have never been closer to God than we are now. We had to leave the comforts of the life we grew up in and step out on our own. That is how we found Him. Back home our families are wonderful. They are kind, loving, and always welcoming to us. It is very comfortable there. Dangerously comfortable. Because unfortunately, God isn't very high on the priority list. Our lives are focused and centered on God, but when we go home, we find our comfort in our families and the lives we left behind- not in God. While we say we are strong and steady in our faith, somehow, every time we go home to visit we begin to think of God less and less. Before we know it, we realize we haven't been to church in weeks, haven't touched our Bibles or even taken time to get alone and worship and talk to God. It's as if He doesn't exist.
I explained these things to my friend one morning last week. By that evening I wanted to move back home. Badly. It was like a wet blanket had been thrown over me and was dragging me down. I felt heavy. My shoulders, my mind, and my heart. I was so saddened and lonesome and ready to pack up and move back. I allowed the enemy to plant a seed in me. I watered it and watered it and allowed it to grow for days. I was desperately trying to convince my husband of all the reasons we needed to move home. I even said to him a few times that I know this is lie. I know all the reasons we shouldn't, yet it felt so very real. I really yearned to go back home. I was convincing myself that all the reasons I had previously explained to my friend were easy fixes. And I came up with solutions for each and every one of them.
Yesterday in church, our pastor taught a message that was for me. Specifically. The scripture that was read was for me. God even decided to speak to me personally through the mouth of one of the dearest friends I have ever had. She walked up to me and told me the truth to everything I had been doubting. She gave me the answers to every specific question I had been wrestling with. It was like the clouds parted and sun shined through, pointing directly at me. The wet blanket was pulled off my shoulders and I could breathe. Well, I began to sob so although I could breathe, it was snorty and pitiful sounding.
I was helping. I was sharing. I was being obedient to God. But I was doing it foolishly because I wasn't armed. I had missed church due to sickness the week before and I hadn't made it up. By make it up, I mean I hadn't gotten into worship or the word for a few days. I hadn't gotten quiet with the Father and spent time re-filling my soul. Because of this, my faith was weakened, my peace was diminishing, and I was an easy target. It all comes down to armor. We MUST arm ourselves if we hope to survive this war. The good news is, that it is easy to get back on track. While I may have gotten knocked down, it wasn't for long. And my wise and sturdy husband wouldn't allow my doubts and fears to make any decisions for our family.
I made one of the biggest mistakes last week. In my pain, fear, and frustration, I told my wonderful husband that this was all his fault. I told him he wasn't a good spiritual leader for me and he wasn't a good priest for our home. No, he hadn't prayed with me. No, he hadn't taken me aside and read the word with me. But he felt the quiet nudge from God to keep his mouth shut. He hadn't entertained my theories or ideas. He wouldn't argue with me or agree with me. He knew to just keep quiet and wait for God to take care of everything. And that's exactly what He did.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
A Dark Corner
Revelation 12:11 KJV
And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony...
They "overcame him". Let's take a quick look at this, shall we? Who is they? They is us. You and I. We overcame him. Who is him? Him is the enemy- Satan- the Devil. Take your pick. So, we overcame him. The New Living Translation says this:
And they have defeated him by the blood of the Lamb and by their testimony.
We defeated him. Get that? How do we defeat the enemy? By accepting the blood of Jesus.. that Jesus died and shed every last drop of his blood for us to save us from having to ever taste death or allow Satan victory over us. But also by our testimony.
testimony:
1) a formal written or spoken statement, especially one given in a court of law.
2) evidence or proof provided by the existence or appearance of something.
We all endure hardships and go through unthinkable things. In fact, since getting more into ministering to women, I have come to realize that most of the women I know have been through some of the most horrific and tragic acts of sexual assault and abuse. The lie that the enemy would have us believe, is that we are alone. Nobody can understand our scars or our pain, because nobody else has been through this.
I am going to be bold. I am going to step out in faith and share one of the darkest and most hidden parts of my life. I kept it in a dark secret place in the corner of my heart because I didn't think anyone would understand. I didn't think anyone could relate. I was wrong. So, here is my testimony. Here is how I overcome. Here is how I win. I pray that my story gives someone hope. I pray my story shows that you are not alone.
It was the 4th of July and I was thrilled to be in one of the most exciting places I had ever been. I was 14 years old and I was spending a few days at Wisconsin Dells with my cousins. My older cousin was several years older than I was (early 20s), but she didn't care. She was my best friend and made me feel important. While my two older sisters didn't want me in their rooms, let alone to hang out with them- she actually wanted me around. We left her mom and our campground, and we went out driving in her little red sports car.
It wasn't long before we had met some really good looking guys and were back in their hotel room. They were in their early 20s and I had lied to them, telling them I was 19. I was always 19 when my cousin and I went out. This wasn't the first time we had done something like this, however, it was the first time it went this far. I don't remember the other guys. I only remember him. He was so handsome. Dark hair, smooth tan, and dark eyes that seemed to draw me in to him. He smelled like the magazine ads in the latest issues, and I was smitten. I cannot remember his name, but I remember the look on his gorgeous face the moment I whispered for him to stop.
The music was so loud in the next room where my cousin was flirting with the other guys. I have told myself all these years that she couldn't hear me fighting him off and she probably couldn't. But, I was so young. She shouldn't have let me go into that room. She should have stopped me. When he was finished, he was so mad at the blood on the hotel sheets and all over himself. He stomped to the bathroom to grab a wash cloth, threw it in my face and demanded I get cleaned up and get out while he showered. I sat there in disbelief. Why was he mad at me?!? Had I done something wrong?! Was this my fault?!
I left there that night accepting that this was my own fault. I led him on, I went into the room with him, I shouldn't have gotten him to a point where he couldn't stop. My innocence was gone as well as my pride, my trust, and my hope. I felt worthless.
We went back to the campground where I drank until I couldn't feel anymore before passing out into sweet, black, oblivion. The next day, July 5th. We decided to go out again. I had already accepted that last night was my own fault, and I could control my circumstances and situations from here on out. We found ourselves at a large campground with a mansion sized house. Everyone there was Russian. Not many of them spoke English, but all of them were so wonderfully kind. Men, women, children, old, young. It was like a giant family reunion. We wound up around the biggest bonfire I had ever seen. The men and women were all telling jokes and singing songs. They passed around a bottle of vodka, but the label was in Russian, and I am pretty sure it wasn't legal in the US. I remember declining the bottle when it got to me. But I also remember his gorgeous eyes pleading with me to take a drink. He said it was his birthday and all he wanted was to have a birthday drink with me. It was just one drink, and he seemed so kind. I took the shot and passed the bottle. By the time it made it's way back to me again, I was already out of it. That stuff was strong! I took another shot and then my memory goes black.
I can't remember how I got there, but in my mind, I see flashes of scenes, like in a thriller movie. Black... I'm stumbling through the dark woods... Black... I'm being led out of the woods by someone pulling my arm... Black... I'm in the tiniest room I have ever seen with the ceiling so low and slanted that this can only be an attic... Black... I am fighting him off with everything in me, but it's nothing. My muscles feel like Jello and I can hardly get out a sentence with him throwing my body around like I was nothing but a doll. A plaything... Black... I had a brilliant plan to fake having to go to the bathroom. I told him and I said I couldn't hold it. I thought he would let me find my clothes, and go off alone. This would give me a chance to run. I don't know where- but at least I would be away from him. Instead, he stood me up and walked me to the bathroom, gripping my arm the whole way. He warned me that I had better be quiet. Our bare naked bodies walked (I stumbled) through a house filled with sleeping children. They were everywhere. On the couches, the floors, everywhere. I knew I couldn't cry out for help and allow these poor little children to witness what was happening to me. He sat me on the toilet and stood over me, not taking his eyes off of me. When I was finished he gripped my arm and led me back to the tiny room... Black... I remember stumbling out of the front door of the house with my cousin yelling at me. Where had I been? I had been gone for over four hours. The sun was rising quickly and the day was beginning.
We went back to the campground where again, everything went black. I slept so hard. No dreams, no thoughts. Black, numb, nothingness. When I got home I tried to tell my oldest sister, but I didn't know how. I was responsible for the first night (in my head) and so could I really call anything rape? I hadn't been beaten and left in an alleyway, so what was this? The only person I told was my best friend. We had been friends since we were toddlers. I went to her birthday party and I pulled her aside and I told her. She said nothing. She looked at me like I had told her I was an alien. She turned and walked away, and I haven't spoken to her since. That set the tone for keeping my secret for the next several years. Until, only a handful of people knew, and only a couple knew the details.
I have chosen to forgive these nameless men. I have chosen to forgive my cousin for not helping me. I have chosen to forgive my old friend for turning away from me. It's been a long time, and it's done a lot of damage in my life and relationships. But, this is where I take my life back. This is where I take my relationships back. This is where I look at that dark time straight in the eye and say, "you have no power over me!" This is where I overcome, where I defeat the enemy and take back what he has stolen from me. This is where I open up more to my husband than ever before. Where I let my guard down and allow myself to be completely vulnerable with him sexually and emotionally. This is where I learn that I can trust this man with everything in my heart- good and bad. This is where I learn that I can trust him to touch me with love and gentleness. This is where I begin living more fully.
Since choosing to forgive these men, God has shown me revelation after revelation. I have wept after making love to my husband. Wept. Tears of relief and tears of joy... because I never knew how to accept physical love before letting go of this bitterness in my heart
I thank God for restoring this piece of my heart. I praise Him for guiding me gently through this process of sharing one of the most humiliating and vulnerable events in my life. I praise Him for not letting me go through it alone. I praise Him for allowing me to block out most of it (that HAS to be the Holy Spirit). I am so grateful that I don't have to walk in shame, fear, hopelessness, pain, or humiliation anymore. I am restored. I am changed. I am an overcomer.
And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony...
They "overcame him". Let's take a quick look at this, shall we? Who is they? They is us. You and I. We overcame him. Who is him? Him is the enemy- Satan- the Devil. Take your pick. So, we overcame him. The New Living Translation says this:
And they have defeated him by the blood of the Lamb and by their testimony.
We defeated him. Get that? How do we defeat the enemy? By accepting the blood of Jesus.. that Jesus died and shed every last drop of his blood for us to save us from having to ever taste death or allow Satan victory over us. But also by our testimony.
testimony:
1) a formal written or spoken statement, especially one given in a court of law.
2) evidence or proof provided by the existence or appearance of something.
We all endure hardships and go through unthinkable things. In fact, since getting more into ministering to women, I have come to realize that most of the women I know have been through some of the most horrific and tragic acts of sexual assault and abuse. The lie that the enemy would have us believe, is that we are alone. Nobody can understand our scars or our pain, because nobody else has been through this.
I am going to be bold. I am going to step out in faith and share one of the darkest and most hidden parts of my life. I kept it in a dark secret place in the corner of my heart because I didn't think anyone would understand. I didn't think anyone could relate. I was wrong. So, here is my testimony. Here is how I overcome. Here is how I win. I pray that my story gives someone hope. I pray my story shows that you are not alone.
It was the 4th of July and I was thrilled to be in one of the most exciting places I had ever been. I was 14 years old and I was spending a few days at Wisconsin Dells with my cousins. My older cousin was several years older than I was (early 20s), but she didn't care. She was my best friend and made me feel important. While my two older sisters didn't want me in their rooms, let alone to hang out with them- she actually wanted me around. We left her mom and our campground, and we went out driving in her little red sports car.
It wasn't long before we had met some really good looking guys and were back in their hotel room. They were in their early 20s and I had lied to them, telling them I was 19. I was always 19 when my cousin and I went out. This wasn't the first time we had done something like this, however, it was the first time it went this far. I don't remember the other guys. I only remember him. He was so handsome. Dark hair, smooth tan, and dark eyes that seemed to draw me in to him. He smelled like the magazine ads in the latest issues, and I was smitten. I cannot remember his name, but I remember the look on his gorgeous face the moment I whispered for him to stop.
The music was so loud in the next room where my cousin was flirting with the other guys. I have told myself all these years that she couldn't hear me fighting him off and she probably couldn't. But, I was so young. She shouldn't have let me go into that room. She should have stopped me. When he was finished, he was so mad at the blood on the hotel sheets and all over himself. He stomped to the bathroom to grab a wash cloth, threw it in my face and demanded I get cleaned up and get out while he showered. I sat there in disbelief. Why was he mad at me?!? Had I done something wrong?! Was this my fault?!
I left there that night accepting that this was my own fault. I led him on, I went into the room with him, I shouldn't have gotten him to a point where he couldn't stop. My innocence was gone as well as my pride, my trust, and my hope. I felt worthless.
We went back to the campground where I drank until I couldn't feel anymore before passing out into sweet, black, oblivion. The next day, July 5th. We decided to go out again. I had already accepted that last night was my own fault, and I could control my circumstances and situations from here on out. We found ourselves at a large campground with a mansion sized house. Everyone there was Russian. Not many of them spoke English, but all of them were so wonderfully kind. Men, women, children, old, young. It was like a giant family reunion. We wound up around the biggest bonfire I had ever seen. The men and women were all telling jokes and singing songs. They passed around a bottle of vodka, but the label was in Russian, and I am pretty sure it wasn't legal in the US. I remember declining the bottle when it got to me. But I also remember his gorgeous eyes pleading with me to take a drink. He said it was his birthday and all he wanted was to have a birthday drink with me. It was just one drink, and he seemed so kind. I took the shot and passed the bottle. By the time it made it's way back to me again, I was already out of it. That stuff was strong! I took another shot and then my memory goes black.
I can't remember how I got there, but in my mind, I see flashes of scenes, like in a thriller movie. Black... I'm stumbling through the dark woods... Black... I'm being led out of the woods by someone pulling my arm... Black... I'm in the tiniest room I have ever seen with the ceiling so low and slanted that this can only be an attic... Black... I am fighting him off with everything in me, but it's nothing. My muscles feel like Jello and I can hardly get out a sentence with him throwing my body around like I was nothing but a doll. A plaything... Black... I had a brilliant plan to fake having to go to the bathroom. I told him and I said I couldn't hold it. I thought he would let me find my clothes, and go off alone. This would give me a chance to run. I don't know where- but at least I would be away from him. Instead, he stood me up and walked me to the bathroom, gripping my arm the whole way. He warned me that I had better be quiet. Our bare naked bodies walked (I stumbled) through a house filled with sleeping children. They were everywhere. On the couches, the floors, everywhere. I knew I couldn't cry out for help and allow these poor little children to witness what was happening to me. He sat me on the toilet and stood over me, not taking his eyes off of me. When I was finished he gripped my arm and led me back to the tiny room... Black... I remember stumbling out of the front door of the house with my cousin yelling at me. Where had I been? I had been gone for over four hours. The sun was rising quickly and the day was beginning.
We went back to the campground where again, everything went black. I slept so hard. No dreams, no thoughts. Black, numb, nothingness. When I got home I tried to tell my oldest sister, but I didn't know how. I was responsible for the first night (in my head) and so could I really call anything rape? I hadn't been beaten and left in an alleyway, so what was this? The only person I told was my best friend. We had been friends since we were toddlers. I went to her birthday party and I pulled her aside and I told her. She said nothing. She looked at me like I had told her I was an alien. She turned and walked away, and I haven't spoken to her since. That set the tone for keeping my secret for the next several years. Until, only a handful of people knew, and only a couple knew the details.
I have chosen to forgive these nameless men. I have chosen to forgive my cousin for not helping me. I have chosen to forgive my old friend for turning away from me. It's been a long time, and it's done a lot of damage in my life and relationships. But, this is where I take my life back. This is where I take my relationships back. This is where I look at that dark time straight in the eye and say, "you have no power over me!" This is where I overcome, where I defeat the enemy and take back what he has stolen from me. This is where I open up more to my husband than ever before. Where I let my guard down and allow myself to be completely vulnerable with him sexually and emotionally. This is where I learn that I can trust this man with everything in my heart- good and bad. This is where I learn that I can trust him to touch me with love and gentleness. This is where I begin living more fully.
Since choosing to forgive these men, God has shown me revelation after revelation. I have wept after making love to my husband. Wept. Tears of relief and tears of joy... because I never knew how to accept physical love before letting go of this bitterness in my heart
I thank God for restoring this piece of my heart. I praise Him for guiding me gently through this process of sharing one of the most humiliating and vulnerable events in my life. I praise Him for not letting me go through it alone. I praise Him for allowing me to block out most of it (that HAS to be the Holy Spirit). I am so grateful that I don't have to walk in shame, fear, hopelessness, pain, or humiliation anymore. I am restored. I am changed. I am an overcomer.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Ladies... I'm calling you out...
Ok, ladies, it's time for truth. Please know that I come from a place of love. There is no judgment or condemnation- just truth. God has recently been calling me out to be more honest with people as far as giving them godly advice. I am being taught to stop worrying about offending anyone, and just concern myself with being true to God and His Word.
Here's the truth...I care about your marriages. Deeply. I care about how your husbands treat you and I care about you being honored and loved and cherished as God does for you. But, I know your husbands, and I care about them too. I care about how you are treating, loving, honoring, and cherishing them. Because, as special as you are to the Father.. they are too.
I know if my husband were to be attracted to another woman, it would kill me. It might not make sense to some people, and maybe some people just don't want to admit it because it will make them seem close minded. But, the reality is, when my husband used to look at porn (porno movies, pictures, r rated movies and TV shows with incredibly explicit sexual and nude scenes) it made me feel like he was having an affair. My stomach would twist in knots and my heart would ache. I would get infuriated at the images my imagination would concoct. My husband drooling over another woman. My husband looking at another woman's body in order to get his sexual satisfaction. The idea of my husband lusting after another woman- I don't care who she is or how unattainable she might be- makes me want to kill him. And her. And everyone.
Knowing how it would make me feel for him to betray me (even in his mind), then why on earth would I do it him?! I have made a strong point to avoid pornography at all its sources. The thing is, for women, it comes in the form of more innocent "sheep's clothing". Books (Fifty Shade of Grey, I'm looking at YOU), romance novels (making sex pretty doesn't cover up the fact that it is still sex), television shows, and movies (That's right girls.... Magic Mike).
Why do we, as women, think it's ok to do what we know kills us for our men to do? My Facebook newsfeed has been littered with pictures of Channing Tatum for the last couple of months. My friends (God loving, serving, wonderful, amazing women) who I happen to know love their husbands very much, are posting pictures of this half naked man and drooling about how incredible he is. He is so close being in Savannah, we MUST go find him and ogle him... Really?! I know your husbands are on Facebook too. I know if this is making me cringe... it must be KILLING him!
If your husband were posting half naked pictures of Megan Fox, looking at the camera with her bedroom eyes and biting her lip... commenting on how sexy he thinks she is and raving about wanting to meet her and touch her and get a picture with her... it would kill you. You would be an insecure mess crying out about how disrespectful your husband is. It would twist your stomach in knots and you would want to kill him. And her. And everyone.
Pastor Alan said a couple years ago in a marriage series (maybe we need a refresher course, Alan?) about who we have eyes for. Our 'type'. He said, if when you married your wife, she was skinny and blonde- then skinny and blonde is your 'type'. If 2 years later, she is average build and brunette- then average build and brunette is your 'type'. Fast forward 10 years later and she is now thicker with red hair. Guess what? Thicker with red hair is now your 'type'. This doesn't just apply to our men, ladies. It applies to us too.
When I married Mike, he had hair. I liked men with hair. In fact, I never had dated a bald guy and I never wanted to. I just wasn't attracted to them. Well, my husband today is a very sexy bald man. And I am so crazy attracted to him. And in 10 years, I will be attracted to whatever it is he looks like.... because I only have eyes for him.
I refuse to make my husband feel unattractive by drooling over another man. I refuse to put doubts in his mind as to whether or not I want him. I refuse to poison my marriage by lusting after anyone else. I refuse to disrespect and dishonor my husband and my marriage in any way. I know you feel the same way. I know you would never intentionally do these things. I know you love your man, and your marriage is as sacred to you as mine is to me. I know you are a woman after God's heart and I know you are growing in your faith and relationship with him. I know, because I see it. I see you changing and growing and becoming everything God intended for you to be. And I hope you will remember that I love you and I care about you and your marriage. I am here to help, support, and encourage you on this walk.
Matthew 5:28 ESV
But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.
Ps.. ^^^ Applies to us women too....
Here's the truth...I care about your marriages. Deeply. I care about how your husbands treat you and I care about you being honored and loved and cherished as God does for you. But, I know your husbands, and I care about them too. I care about how you are treating, loving, honoring, and cherishing them. Because, as special as you are to the Father.. they are too.
I know if my husband were to be attracted to another woman, it would kill me. It might not make sense to some people, and maybe some people just don't want to admit it because it will make them seem close minded. But, the reality is, when my husband used to look at porn (porno movies, pictures, r rated movies and TV shows with incredibly explicit sexual and nude scenes) it made me feel like he was having an affair. My stomach would twist in knots and my heart would ache. I would get infuriated at the images my imagination would concoct. My husband drooling over another woman. My husband looking at another woman's body in order to get his sexual satisfaction. The idea of my husband lusting after another woman- I don't care who she is or how unattainable she might be- makes me want to kill him. And her. And everyone.
Knowing how it would make me feel for him to betray me (even in his mind), then why on earth would I do it him?! I have made a strong point to avoid pornography at all its sources. The thing is, for women, it comes in the form of more innocent "sheep's clothing". Books (Fifty Shade of Grey, I'm looking at YOU), romance novels (making sex pretty doesn't cover up the fact that it is still sex), television shows, and movies (That's right girls.... Magic Mike).
Why do we, as women, think it's ok to do what we know kills us for our men to do? My Facebook newsfeed has been littered with pictures of Channing Tatum for the last couple of months. My friends (God loving, serving, wonderful, amazing women) who I happen to know love their husbands very much, are posting pictures of this half naked man and drooling about how incredible he is. He is so close being in Savannah, we MUST go find him and ogle him... Really?! I know your husbands are on Facebook too. I know if this is making me cringe... it must be KILLING him!
If your husband were posting half naked pictures of Megan Fox, looking at the camera with her bedroom eyes and biting her lip... commenting on how sexy he thinks she is and raving about wanting to meet her and touch her and get a picture with her... it would kill you. You would be an insecure mess crying out about how disrespectful your husband is. It would twist your stomach in knots and you would want to kill him. And her. And everyone.
Pastor Alan said a couple years ago in a marriage series (maybe we need a refresher course, Alan?) about who we have eyes for. Our 'type'. He said, if when you married your wife, she was skinny and blonde- then skinny and blonde is your 'type'. If 2 years later, she is average build and brunette- then average build and brunette is your 'type'. Fast forward 10 years later and she is now thicker with red hair. Guess what? Thicker with red hair is now your 'type'. This doesn't just apply to our men, ladies. It applies to us too.
When I married Mike, he had hair. I liked men with hair. In fact, I never had dated a bald guy and I never wanted to. I just wasn't attracted to them. Well, my husband today is a very sexy bald man. And I am so crazy attracted to him. And in 10 years, I will be attracted to whatever it is he looks like.... because I only have eyes for him.
I refuse to make my husband feel unattractive by drooling over another man. I refuse to put doubts in his mind as to whether or not I want him. I refuse to poison my marriage by lusting after anyone else. I refuse to disrespect and dishonor my husband and my marriage in any way. I know you feel the same way. I know you would never intentionally do these things. I know you love your man, and your marriage is as sacred to you as mine is to me. I know you are a woman after God's heart and I know you are growing in your faith and relationship with him. I know, because I see it. I see you changing and growing and becoming everything God intended for you to be. And I hope you will remember that I love you and I care about you and your marriage. I am here to help, support, and encourage you on this walk.
Matthew 5:28 ESV
But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.
Ps.. ^^^ Applies to us women too....
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