My Journey from Misery to Ministry

"You asked, 'who is this who questions My wisdom with such ignorance?' It is I - and I was talking about things I knew nothing about; things far too wonderful for me." ~Job 42:3

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

22. Back in the 'couve

Two days ago I arrived in Vancouver, to stay semi-permanently with mom and dad. It's funny, I sit here now sometimes and think about how I've come full circle; here I am, right back where I started five years ago when I met Rob. I sleep in my old room.

Rebound clinic is trying to figure out what made my rotator cuff tear. Yesterday's visit revealed almost no calcific crystals, which was truly amazing to me. The pain and loss of ROM is from an actual tear this time. MRI tomorrow night, then the surgeon will determine if he can help me at all. He is from the school of no-narcs; he rolled his eyes over my pain management protocol. I love that, these surgeons have all the answers: you're in pain? hell just deal with it, what's wrong with you, blah blah. He also silently scoffed when I told him about trying to deal with these joint problems with diet restrictions and supplements. They mock. They know it all. They know YOU, and YOU must be a liar/pansy/addict/hyperchondriac. Just once I'd like to meet a surgeon who has himself had joint pain that keeps him from using a limb.

On another road, the whole CNA thing is starting to give me a headache. I'm having second thoughts, and am considering a Medical Assistant class instead. But then again, Kimi talked to me the other day about following my PASSIONS in life, and none of those are tied to the medical field. My passions are photography, graphic arts, singing, and ministering to other broken-hearted women someday. I'd also like to write a novel, the theme of which has been floating around in my head for years.

I really believe, though, that before I can get serious about following ANY dream or career, I really need to get my act together emotionally, and get my freaking ADD brain on track. Just tonight I took inventory on how many things I am in the middle of and have no time set in which to finish: As of right now I'm smack in the middle of When the Vow Breaks, Meeting God at a Dead End, The Bible, Change Your Brain Change Your Life audio, three different entries to this blog, and several advanced photoshop tutorials. On top of all that I'm investigating which CLASS to start taking (class! seriously?) and managing my ever-present -but-slowly-diminishing waves of depression and attacks by memories.

OMG. I need a session with Gayle, pronto. Until then, I think what I really need to do is make a list. It should include what I'm in the middle of, when I started it, and a reasonable date I can expect to finish it, followed by the next thing on my list. I know that my head spins when I try to consider all my readings. I look at them: book 1, book 2, book 3, blog, facebook, email... and I just get stressed out. I want to finish each thing but need to put them in some sort of order, and then follow through on each one in that order. Gayle...?

Sunday, January 10, 2010

21. Customized Cut and Paste for: Tracy



I am a lover of other people's writing abilities. My own--not so much. I mean, I can write. I can craft fairly creative sentences here and there, when I'm thinking straight. Sometimes "straight" means extremely joyous and sometimes it means extremely sad, but "straight" always means I am ready to WRITE STUFF DOWN NOW because a bunch of extreme emotion is bulging and pushing it out of my brain.

But other times, when I've got no game; when I'm neither giddy with joy from climbing a stepping higher on my mountain, nor down in the dumps from sliding downward, I look to other writings, and sometimes I steal them. (When I do, I ALWAYS use quotes and credit the author. The only time I plagiarized fer reals was when I wrote a cover letter for this job I really wanted... but I digress.)

For tonight's entry of my journey-journal I've decided to put together a collection of quotes from different sources and customize them for--me! I have no followers outside of family, and only a few friends actually read this blog, so I really don't think anyone will be terribly offended that tonight's babbling will not be my own words. Besides, it's going to make me feel better to come back and read the words of outstanding authors, customized just for me. And that's what my journal is primarily about: healing Tracy up.

My first customized plagiarism will be from The Message version of the Bible. I don't think God will have a problem with this. In the book of Matthew, right after the story of Jesus' birth, His baptism, and His forty days of temptation, the Beatitudes are laid out for us. The Message version of the bible portrays the most beautiful, poignant interpretation of these precious blessings I've seen yet.
Matthew 5:3-10
To Tracy... love, Jesus
Tracy, you are blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and His rule.

Tracy, you are blessed when you feel you've lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

Tracy, you are blessed when you're content with just who you are--no more, no less. That's the moment you find yourself the proud owner of everything that cannot be bought.

Tracy, you are blessed with you've worked up a good appetite for God. He's the food and drink in the best meal you'll ever eat.

Tracy, you are blessed when you care. At the moment of being care-full, you'll find yourself cared-for.

Tracy, you are blessed when you get your inside world--your mind and heart--put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

Tracy, you are blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That's when you discover who you really are, and your place in god's family.

Tracy, you are blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God's kingdom.
The first time I ever heard this version was when Gayle read them to me, and she inserted my name at the beginning of each one. I was incredibly blessed. Thank you, Gayle! And Thank You, Jesus.

H

From Disappointment: the Sovereign Surprise by Andy Wood, blogspot May, 2009
As difficult and painful as this experience; the loss of my husband and home has been for me, I realize that it is "part of God's plan to take me where He wants me to go, and to make me what He wants me to be. This experience is is actually God's way of taking care of me... for the long term."
This huge disappointment, this delay, this derailment, this detour has a familiar note to it. Seems like someone else got delayed, derailed, and detoured: namely, the children of Israel, after they were delivered from slavery in Egypt. It was a SIX DAY march from Egypt to Canaan. But God had other plans for His delivered. He sent them packing on a detour that was intended to last a few months, but ended up lasting forty years. The idea was to lead them around Philistine territory, rather than straight through it:
"If the people are faced with a battle, they might change their minds and return to Egypt" (Exodus 13:17-18). God had, and still has, a deliberate purpose for this journey of mine. Finally, Tracy "it is not your responsibility to get where you are going. It is to be where God wants you to be".
H

From the book of Psalms, Psalm 6 customized for Tracy:
Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am faint.
Heal me, O Lord, for I am in agony.
My soul is in anguish,
How long, Lord? How much longer?
Turn, Sweet Lord, and deliver me from these assailing memories
Save me from them because of, and by, Your unfailing love.
How can I praise You when I am weeping?
Who praises You if they are dead? Or numb with sadness?

I am worn out from crying. I am worn out from memories,
once sweet and sacred, now bitter and vengeful.
Every night I drench my pillow with tears.
Every morning sadness awakens me.
My eyes grow weak with sorrow,
they fail me, because of this onslaught of despondency.

You, Lord, have heard my cry.
You have accepted my pleas for help.
These memories; this sadness will be ashamed and dismayed.
They will retreat in sudden disgrace.

Do I love that David's song which starts out so mournful, so hopeless, ends with a chant of victory? Do I love that when I cry the same tears and speak the same words as David, that my Lord fills me with hope with the last paragraph of this song? Ooh boy do I!

H

From Praise You in this Storm, by Casting Crowns:
"I was sure, God that You would have reached down
and wiped my tears away, stepped in and saved the day.
But once again I say amen
and it's still raining, as the thunder rolls.
I barely hear You whisper through the rain:
"I am with you".
And as Your mercy falls, I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away.

And I'll praise you in this storm
and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am.
And every tear I've cried, You hold in Your hand
You've ever left my side.
And though my heart is torn,
I will praise You in this storm..."

H





Friday, January 8, 2010

20. For the First Time: the 'A' Word.






Tonight, right now, Friday January 8, 2010 at 10:37 pm I have somehow, from somewhere, been given the courage to admit, really admit to myself and to this journal, that my entire five year relationship with Rob was more than just toxic. It was abusive. His ex-wife talked about abuse. Mom talked about abuse. Kim and Courtney talked about it. So did his daughter. But I would hear none of it. Abusive? My prince? The man I chose to be my life partner? No, he simply couldn't be abusive. Because for one thing, if Rob were an abusive husband and partner, that would mean I had chosen an abusive mate, and that has been, to this point, unthinkable. Impossible.
Tonight I came across, and shamelessly cut and pasted, this amazing blog from one of my favorite bloggers, John Shore http://johnshore.com . He wrote an article entitled Seven Reasons Women Stay in Abusive Relationships. I started out reading number seven, then number six. As I had suspected, the abuse John talks about is physical abuse, which in my mind was the only kind of abuse a man can inflict on his wife. (Boy have I been wrong on that one!) As I read number five however, something strong, flowing... and familiar struck me six ways to Sunday. The author doesn't change his take on the type of abuse women stay with, but he CLEARLY defines how a classic abusive husband behaves behind the abuse. Here it is, spelled out for me: Why Tracy Stayed With/Waited For/Still Loves Robby.
  1. Your man is cute. He has adorable ways. You see that little boy in him and you melt.
  2. He's got that way of talking, of moving, of boldly taking control of stuff--he's brave like that.
  3. He does things in the world. He makes things happen at work. He's powerful and yet he needs you.
  4. He's smart. You wish you could be smart like that.
  5. Underneath it all, he's a good man. He was raised poorly. His dad never gave him a break.
  6. He tries to be nice.
  7. He's got those arms you love.

    All of these sorts of qualities that you love in your man really are lovable: there’s no doubt whatsoever about that. If you’re a woman in an abusive relationship, though, here are two things that you must bear in mind about all the sorts of things that make you love your man in spite of the awful way he treats you:
    1) Every man has all kinds of qualities that are every bit as attractive and lovable as any characteristic possessed by your man. You just don’t know any other guys like you know your man; you’re just used to your man’s lovable qualities. Your man’s qualities seem really unique because they belong to him. But you could love those same qualities (and a whole bunch of new ones!) in another man—one who doesn’t treat you like garbage.
    2) Your man uses his lovable qualities to keep you hooked on him. And a huge part of doing that is consciously, purposefully, and constantly pretending that he’s not.

    Tuesday, January 5, 2010

    17. First Wave of the new decade. Oy.




    More freaking memories. God took the Utah memories, now if only He'd take these pesky recent ones from Olympia.
    I love cookbooks. I've collected them since I received a big box of them from my grandma Betty for my 21st birthday. Today Anna showed me a cool recipe in one of Donnie's new cookbooks and I was immediately interested in trolling for more recipes. Then: familiar, dark, and cold dropped in to say hey. I closed my eyes for a moment and found myself face to face with a strong, paralyzing memory:

    ...sitting on a plastic chair in my driveway a year or so ago, brand new Rachael Ray cookbook in one hand, glass of merlot in the other. It's late afternoon, early twilight, beautifully mild, and Robby is on his way home. I want him to drive up and capture his wife dutifully perusing her cookbook in her earnest attempt to search for new ways to please his palate.

    Light is fading and the temperature has dropped a tiny bit, but Robins are still singing their afternoon whirly songs while I run in the house to grab a light sweater. I'm reading each and every recipe in Rachael's big orange book and making mental notes: when I will prepare this and shop for that. I can't wait to create my new delicacies for my prince.

    Eventually the event which is the highlight of my day occurs: I hear the familiar diesel sound from Robby's truck making its way up the road. I look up from my book, huge smile creeping across my face, as he rounds the corner into the driveway and pulls straight up to my chair. He returns my smile and I raise my glass to the absolute love of my life. My heart has skipped a few beats...

    Today I tried to look at some recipes in another great cookbook. I was not successful. The memory of that beautiful twilight evening haunts me this very moment. I can type this entry, but my arms are heavy, and my heart aches. I want to cry. I want to sob, as once again the familiar cold dark wave crashes over me. I hate this. And while I'm tumbling in this wave, I hate life.

    I will turn to God, because I know that Jesus, who knows and named every star, wants to cradle me in His lap. He wants to wrap His arms around me and pluck me from the pounding, crushing wave. All I have to do is turn to Him, stretch out my heavy arms and say Daddy.

    As I think of this I can feel a lump forming in my throat. I know from experience that this is the foundational clay that turns into a good cry. As the lump grows I begin to feel tiny burning sensations behind my eyes as tears form. I'll fight them. I've shed my allotted tears this week already, and I don't have the time or the strength to deal with them today.