A Crazy Story I

One day after school my friend and I were walking home. A black Oldsmobile stopped in front of us. There were three guys in the car. Two in the front seat and one in the back. The driver looked at me and asked if we wanted a ride home. I said "yes!" I looked at my friend and said "come on, it’ll be okay." Well… We got in the car. Immediately, the car began to drive in a direction away from our homes. I told the driver "hey, we live back that way". He said to me ‘Oh, we need to make a quick stop first.’

I began to have flirtatious conversation with the driver, laughing and joking. At the same time I  paid very close attention to route we were taking so I'd know where we were. After a 15 minute ride we pulled up to a large brownstone. The guys smiled and suggested we come inside for a minute. You would think that this is the moment all my alarms would go off… nope. We went inside the house. We followed the guys to the second level of the house to find a group of about three more guys. Now, panic began to set in. The driver asked me to follow him to the third floor of the house.  

I caution you before you continue to read understand that I understand this was stupid, naive and a few other words I can’t think of right now.

At that moment, I was thinking... I have to get us out of here. Maybe if I go upstairs with him I can convince him to take us home. So, I left my friend alone in the room with the 5 guys. Went upstairs with the one guy. Immediately he tried to be intimate. I implored him to just take us home. He persisted… I persisted... I lot of persisting was happening. Suddenly, he looked at me in frustration, opened the door to the room we were in and said "get your things and leave." I walked back down the stairs to find my friend sitting on a sofa waiting for me. One of the guys said to his friend ‘you guys couldn’t even pick up a couple of skeezers. At that moment the reality of our situation really hit me. My heart was beating fast I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. Instead I looked in my friends eyes and gave the best non-verbal apology I could muster.

The guys walked us to the car. Had us grab our back packs that we left in the car. They drove off and we just stood there.  At that point we just stared at each other. Grateful to be out of the house and away from them. However, now we had to figure out how to get home. Do you really call your parents for a ride? How do we explain how we got across town? We walked. The 15 minute ride in the car is a hour walk home.

We got home just in enough time to lie to our parents and say we stayed after school for tutoring or a club.

By no means was that one of my proudest moments. However, that was a defining moment for me. It helped me to understand jumping in cars is incredibly stupid and dangerous. 

My real point for sharing this story? I attend the most amazing church. It's full of beautiful broken people. It's not a place that you have to hide your brokenness. Pretense isn't just discouraged it's actually unnecessary. I've received such healing since my family started attending. It's such a place of Freedom Life. We sang a song the other night the lyrics; chimed like so

Shame is gone...   Sing is broken... Hide no more... Jesus paid the price I owe... 

Now I am forever yours 

best part starts at 3:22

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Jzw0K26mF4

I began to think of so many shameful moments in my life and how they no longer weigh me down. The enemy no longer has power to make me feel like unworthy or unlovable. Then I thought... how many of us have these ridiculously stupid, embarrassing or shameful stories. We would be horrified if anybody knew. The guilt of the stories plagues even though we've been covered by the blood. What would happen if we exposed those stories? What would happen if we took away the power of the enemy to taunt us with shame by exposing ourselves and just sharing our stories. That's what I'll be doing in the next several blogs. You may be shocked to learn the truth about me... I really needed redemption. 

So join me on this journey. Comment and share your story...

Writing Out Loud

I have been quiet the last couple of months because I’ve sweated over what to write. I’ll think of an idea then I’ll let a day or two pass and so does the idea. Now here I am two months with nothing. I'm always scared of being redundant. I'm nervous that the content is boring or just irrelevant. Honestly I"ll look at other blogs and think theirs is so much more aesthetic or just more interesting. Finally, my husband asked me the question… what is the purpose of your blog? Who do you want to speak to and why? I think that question has weighed on me also.

What is my point? There are enough people consuming the blogoshpere with their thoughts and opinions. Why should I add to the pollution? It’s taken me two months to figure it out but I have figured it out.

I want to connect with a community of men and women on real life issues. I want to share. With that sharing I want us to cry, laugh and rejoice with one another. I don’t want to be the only one talking. I want you to subscribe and write back to me. I want to have a conversation. When you agree, when you disagree, when you’re just sick of my misspelled words and can’t continue without saying something. I want us to become familiar with each others names. I want us to feel comfortable asking questions and any one of us answer. I want us to respond to someone’s hurt by praying. I want us to be inspired to be a better people. So in essence I want an online community. My blog only posing as the catalyst to invoking thought, conversation and relationship. Most of blogs will contain a story of my past or present maybe even a day-dream or two of my future. I'd like for you to feel the freedom and grace to share your own stories.

Maybe I want too much from a blog. I’m given to being a bit needy. Just writing this has taken a lot from me. I’ve been watching this video by Sara Bareilles 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUQsqBqxoR4

it’s my theme song right now. BRAVE… That’s what I want to be. I want to write. I’ve wanted to write since I was 12 years. I attempted to write my first book at 13 years old. I’ve always asked the question can I write well enough. Does anybody care what I have to say? Of course the age-old question of am I funny enough? After listening to this song over and over I’ve decided to just be Brave.

So let’s journey together. I’ll be transparent with you about my struggles and victories. Hopefully at the end we’ll all be a little more BRAVE!

Potty Mouth

A beached whale, lumpy bumpy even jiggly wiggly are some of the descriptions I've used for myself over the years. I've passed by store windows and wondered why had my buttocks become a separate person and why was she following me. I've had weeks when the mirror at home made me feel lovely and beautiful to behold. Then I'd get to the gym and wonder why were there parts of my body moving that I new not that I had. God forbid I'd go into a fitting room. That excursion would end in a decision to hide myself under the closest rock. A big rock mind you.

With all that said... I realized if my daughters talked about themselves the way I have... I would sternly reprimand them. Then I would stand them before a mirror and give each a dissertation on how beautiful she is and how beauty is within and without. More importantly the latter. Then I'd tell her women will vary in size for a myriad of reasons. Regardless of her size she must see herself as God see's her. I would tell her she should never focus on her weight but health. I would tell her no matter her size she should buy clothes for her current weight. She can look attractive, neat and feminine at any size.

Okay my confession. Why would I not speak those same words to myself? Words I'd speak to my daughters, sister and friends. Why do I lack such grace for myself? How can I look at women of any size and see the incredible beauties that they are? Yet look in mirror and feel such disappointment. Sit in a middle of a pile of discarded outfits and decide not to go. (wherever)

Do I really believe Psalm 139:14? Would I not stand before a group of young women and speak with insistence about how beautiful they are? About how God doesn't make mistakes but makes all things beautiful. How they are the apple of His eye. None of that contigent on the what size they are.

So as I realize how I would refuse to accept my daughters having potty mouths in their descriptions of themselves, I have to practice the same. How can we expect the women that we love so much and influence to have a healthy view of themselves when speak so negatively about ourselves? They hear the words we speak and soon we'll hear them speak the same of themselves. I'm going to start by sternly reprimanding myself. I'm going to be careful of the words that I speak to and about myself. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. That means we have to know and believe in our hearts what God says about us. Then speak it.

Our challenge...

1. Mediate on Psalm 139

2. Thank God daily for making us and how He's made us

2. Accept compliments with a simple 'Thank You'

3. Refuse to speak with negative references about yourself

4. Focus on becoming a healthier women

He Was There



I never met my father. My mother tells the story of him coming to see me at the hospital and saying I couldn't be his. I was too fair skinned to be his child. Picturing the scene makes me think "wow, there was nothing special enough about me to make him want to hold me and love me whether I was his or not."

I grew up in a home with a single parent where there was physical and verbal abuse. I remember the day I determined I wasn't going to let her see me cry again. She could beat me but she couldn't break me.



Simultaneously I was being sexually abused by a family member. The molestation lasted from 8 years old to about 12 years old. I remember the day of the first actual coitus. I took a very long shower. However, that is a feeling a dirtiness that no shower can clean.

At 17 I had an abortion. The father was a guy I didn't particularly like. It was a painful experience on so many levels. Physically and emotionally. The nurse offered to hold my hand as I was laying on the table right before the procedure. I refused her hand. Thirty seconds into the procedure I grabbed for her hand as I bit on my lip. Two days later the reality of my decision set in. I felt a guilt that paralyzed my soul.

At 19 I gave my heart to Christ. I learned my redeemer lives. This angry, hardened, broken, hopeless and lonely girl He took and made His own.

I am no longer fatherless. I still see that father walking out of the hospital room. However, I now see my heavenly father standing beside my bed. Smiling and pleased with me even then.

I am no longer the hardened little girl who refuses to cry. I still can imagine being on the bathroom floor being kicked. However, I now know He was there. He was hurting for me. He wasn't callously allowing it to happen. He was there promising that even this would be redeemed. I adore my mother. I'm grateful He's healed us both.

I am no longer the little girl so desperate for love that I'd accept perversion than be alone. He's restored purity to one whose innocence was stolen. As I see the stains on my clothes and heart from that first encounter I know He was there. He was there whispering 'this is not your fault" It took me years to believe it. Oh but now I know it's true.





I no longer have to feel guilt and shame for the baby I allowed to be killed. His blood covers me, Removing the sin and shame. I thought He'd never allow me to have a baby. How could I ever deserve to ask for a baby? How could I ever be trusted with a baby? I don't see the nurse holding my hand but my savior holding my hand saying 'even in this I will comfort you and forgive'

There is more I can say. More I can share. I just had a few moments to think on how amazing He is to me. How wretched I was. How broken. What is so amazing is He never saw me as I saw myself. He saw beauty in every flaw. He sees me. No matter who I was He loved me and will forever love me. What manner of man is this...maybe not just a man at all. Jesus is...

I'm Not "Funny"

I received heart wrenching news last week. My husband pulled up a chair next to the computer desk. Turned my face towards his. Looked me in the eye and said. "Markeala, your not funny" Do you believe that? He said me, not funny. I'm witty, I'm hilarious, I'm comical and clever even. Okay so he's right I'm not funny. However, I desperately want to be funny.

I guess I should let him off the hook and tell you the context of the conversation. Duncan (my amazing husband) has been my greatest encourager in the area of writing. He's endured years of me complaining about not feeling creative or clever enough as writer. Last weeks complaining about not being "funny" enough got to him. I told him I want to write stuff that doubles people over with laughter. Really, LOL funny. So after hearing me whine for a while. He was kind of enough to just say "Markeala, you're not funny" but followed up with "your amazing at what you do." I'm a serious person. My mom said I came out this way...intense. So when I write I write with a tone that fits my personality. I guess I've always wish I had a little slapstick in me.

Nevertheless, I think for the first time I got it. For so long in many areas of my life I've tried to be "funny". For a long time it was; I wanted a "stronger" voice. Or just a voice like somebody else or anybody else. In many areas I can see there has been so much focus on what I didn't have that I never really spent quality time developing what I did have. I began to think of how often I've been paralyzed by the sin of comparison. the Bible to says to not compare yourselves among yourselves because it is unwise. 2 Corinthians 10:12 Comparison leads to such diseases as envy, jealousy, strife and the like. We'll spend years or whole lifetimes wanting to be "funny" instead of just being ourselves. Envying the people we think are "funny"

 

I feel a sense of liberation this week. It's okay not to be "funny".  It's okay to be me. I wonder what talent or gift you have that's not being developed because you don't think it's good enough or not the way you want it to be. What wonderful treasure are you keeping to yourself because you don't think you're "funny".

Memories That Sting

I was stung by a bee once in my life. It was a horrible experience. The burning feeling lingers for a while. It is recommended that you remove the stinger quickly to minimize the amount of venom that is released into the body. Last Sunday yet again I was asking God to help me to forgive. I don't know about you but whenever a sermon on forgiveness is taught certain people come to mind. I pray tearfully to God to help me forgive. Unforgiveness has a way of leaving you in state of paralysis that is hard to overcome. You can't pretend it away, you can't speak it away honestly I don't even think you can take pragmatic steps to wiping it clean. It's a work of the Holy Spirit. That being said, in my prayer I heard God speak quietly to me that He was removing the stingers. In essence the memories will remain but the sting of those memories, He is removing. I would love to be spiritual and say how I allow God to remove stingers quickly. However, that's not always the case. I have admittedly allowed a lot of poison into my system. The poison of unforgiveness is bitterness that leads to hatred that leads to vengeance and the such. Its affects are nasty and vicious. Matthew 5:22-24

A few months back I had a conversation with one of my sisters where she explained forgiveness being like a debt owed. When you forgive your releasing the person from that debt. That was liberating for me. In my brain I saw an itemized spread sheet carefully recording the cost of each incident. Words that were spoken, actions done and undone and their cost. Some people owed me several thousand  forgiveness dollars. Others had been paying off their debt slowly and things where evening up. Then God in His love begins to show me my debt to Him. The amount owed supersedes anything I could pay back and on the cross it was all paid. It is something about seeing you own itemized debt that is sobering. It will shake you like coffee from the stupor of a self-centered hangover. I could begin visualize myself deleting the amounts owed from my spreadsheet. What's really amazing is when God begins to show you what you said and did that deeply hurt others. Matthew 18:21-35

I heard these lyrics and thought about unforgivness: 

 When the darkness fills my senses When my blindness keeps me from Your touch... Jesus come

  When my burdens keeps me doubting When my memories take the place of You... Jesus come 

Unforgivness will fill your senses to the point of blindness. You find yourself no longer being able to see yourself, people or even God rightly. If He doesn't come to you in His grace there is no hope. Unforgivness is like the heavy load that is carried around weighing on a persons shoulders. Matthew 11:28-30 Finally here we are full circle where the memories take the place of God. The memories take up more space than they should. They only do that because the stingers are still there. The pain is what drives us to prove ourselves and protect ourselves. Once the stinger associated with memory is gone the memory can take its rightful amount of space providing lessons and love. Let's allow Jesus to come and remove the stingers.

Still In Love...

Still in Love with him

God and His amazing love and grace... Sadly, my life goes so quickly and busily that I don't always have time to quietly reflect on the sweetness of God. There are so many facets to Gods nature ranging from holy to omnipresent. So for me to stop and think on Him being sweet, it sounds crazy. However, today that's the part of God I was reminded of. My husband on the way out of the door turned around to plant a soft kiss on my lips and whisper "you are, amazing" I feel teary eyed even now at the thought of that moment. To some it may sound crazy that in that instance my affections where not just stirred for my husband but for my God. God in His wisdom and love chose my husband for me. God in His grace and mercy have given us two beautiful children. He's given me the desire of my heart.

When life is going great we can take God and our loved ones for granted. When things are difficult we can become irritated and disenchanted with God and our loved ones. Its not easy to give thanks to God in every season, for this is the will of God for us in Christ Jesus 1Thes. 5:18 Nevertheless, its a discipline I can now see more than ever is necessary. In every season there are glimpses of Gods sweetness. The moment when it seems the walls are closing in and yet you have peace you shouldn't. In the moments when  your doubled over in laughter in the midst of good food and good friends and yet you can inhale Gods kindness even in that moment. 

In our home we have a tradition at dinner for every person to say what was their high, their low and what they are grateful for in that day. There have been days that simple tradition has dragged me out of a deep funk. When a day has been hard and I can think of a myriad of lows. On the other hand finding one high is difficult and being grateful for anything is even harder. However, I do every time. Some days I've had to dig deep for it but i found it or it found me.

In essence  I pray that not matter what state we find ourselves in we can still sense the unchanging love of God and the gentle sweetness of His grace.