My Battle With Depression

On July 4, 2009 I discovered that my husband was emotionally involved with someone else. That emotional involvement eventually become a physical one and we were divorced two years later. That's a 30 word description for a series of events that thoroughly changed my life. 

I started this blog because it was the only way I was able to channel my fears and feelings. I had no idea that God would give me this gifting and that I would be able to help a single person beyond myself, but apparently I have and to God be the glory. 

My first blog entry was called 10 Count ---> 10 Count and it started my process of trying to deal with the hand I had been dealt. I blogged pretty continually from August 2009 to June 2010 when I wrote my last entry called Dream Deferred ---> Dream Deferred. Well it was my last entry for a long time at least. God and I broke up. My blog and I broke up. I was so knocked over by what had happened to my marriage that I truly lost track of myself. 

In the few years following that 2010 entry I made a lot of bad choices. Well, not bad choices, but choices that I would not have made if I had held on to what I knew to be true about myself and God. But I can't relive the past. 

One important thing that happened was I spent a lot of time pretending that I was okay. Pretending for my kids' sake, and for my friends and family, that I was strong. I wasn't going to let this get me down. That I could handle it. I am a strong woman. Asking for help was a weakness. Relying on others was weakness. So I swallowed the bulk of my pain and anguish. I buried my sadness and despair deep down. I'm not saying I didn't cry. I did cry. A LOT. 

I'm not saying I didn't share some feelings with my nearest and dearest. I did. But I would only say so much. I would only go just so deep. I didn't want them to know I was weak. I didn't want them to think I couldn't handle it. So I shut it up deep down inside. 

Until the summer of 2012. It was then, after I had suffered financial difficulties and worked up a gambling problem that I found myself unable to deal anymore. I was cracking. I was losing my ability to keep it together. I just couldn't anymore. I cried all the time. I stayed in bed all the time. Oh, I still went to work every single day. (Cuz that's what we do, right?) but the minute I came home I got in the bed and didn't get out until the next morning. I could not wait until Friday because when I got home from work I could stay in the bed all the way until Monday. 

I would find myself waking up in the middle of the night and crying for hours. I had tears siting right under the surface at all times. 

I still managed to put on a brave face for people when they were around. But I was counting the seconds until I could get back in the bed again. 

I remember saying to people that I was feeling down and that I didn't want to do anything or go anwhere. I thought I was screaming it at the top of my lungs:

I AM DEPRESSED! HELP ME! I CAN'T STOP CRYING! I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!

But what I was really doing was whispering super softly:

i am depressed. help me. i can't stop crying. i don't know what's wrong with me. 

And I wondered why no one was hearing me. Why doesn't anyone care?

Did I think about suicide? Not actively. But I had driven down the thruway and thought to myself "if a deer runs out, I won't try to avoid it". I had been driving and thought about a wind coming along and pushing my car into a tree. I had thought about getting cancer. So no, I didn't want to kill myself, but there were dangerous thoughts in my head. 

I don't know what made me call my mom that day so many months later. I don't know why I finally said it out loud. But I did. She asked me if I wanted to hurt myself and I said not really and shared the above thoughts with her. And smartly, she urged me to go and see my doctor. She said I was depressed and that I needed some medication and that I need to see a therapist as well. 

And thankfully I did go and immediately my doctor diagnosed me with depression. And in December prescribed Prozac, which I am still taking today. After a few weeks I started to feel the difference. I had to force myself to go outside on the weekends, and I had to force myself not to come home and get in the bed but I did. I had a few sessions with a therapist and finally started to deal with my feelings about my ex-husband. 

And I finally started going back to church. 

All of those things have brought about my healing. My physical, mental and spiritual parts were getting healed. 

I know often times Christians believe that depression is a work of the enemy. Trust me when I tell you that depression is often a chemical imbalance in the brain. Or your body's way of manifesting suppressed hurt and emotions. And medication is often the right answer. Only a doctor knows for sure. 

Do I believe in the power of prayer? Of course I do. But in the midst of my depression, I was totally UNABLE to pray. Or worship. Or sing. Or do anything for that matter. And I'm glad I went and got treatment. 

Not only did I need the pills to help with the chemical imbalance, I need my Balm in Gilead as well. "Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then is there no healing for the wound of my people?" - Jeremiah 8:22. 

I had to remember the Word that God gave to me years before "Nevertheless, I will bring health and healing to it; I will heal my people and will let them enjoy abundant peace and security" - Jeremiah 33:6. Words that I thought meant something else entirely.

I had to do it all together. I am grateful to God that He gave my mom, my doctor AND my pastor the wisdom to aid in my healing. 

If you are feeling down, please seek help, from you pastor AND your doctor. The bible does say that by His stripes we are healed. That healing comes from God, and often through doctors and therapists. 

In love,
Mona

Fearfully Made

Hips too full or too narrow

Behind too big or non-existent

Eyes too wide or too set together

Ears too big or too small

Hair too short or too nappy or too sewn in

Body too thin or too wide

Knees too knobby or too scabby

Mouth too big and voice too loud

Shut up! Speak up!

Skin too dark or too light

Yell too much

Cry to easily

Back too stiff

Mind too stubborn

Prayers too loud or too silent

Faith too weak

Mirror too real and shows too much truth

We are too much of one thing and not enough of another. In our own eyes. In our own minds. 

But the bible says: I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well. My frame was not hidden from You, when I was made in secret and skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed and in Your book they all were written. The days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them. (Psalm 139:14-16)

So what a minute. We were fearfully and wonderfully made? On purpose? God knew all that we would need to be for His glory.

So a small frail child, who saw unspeakable tragedies in Liberia, would grow up to be still small of frame but would birth 4 strong and beautiful God-loving children and yet remain strong enough to carry the weight of an entire ministry on her shoulders?

A young child, who’s life would change at 6 years old, would suffer abuse at the hands of so many, would be knitted together so strongly in God’s hands so as to bend but never to break. To expose her wounds and scars so transparently so that others might be healed?

But what about you?

God made your hips wide because you would need to help carry a child you did not give birth to. 

God made your mouth loud so that when you spoke of His grace, someone would hear you and be saved.

God made the skin on your knees tough because you would spend many hours on them, praying someone from the edges of death.

God made your lips thick because they would need to carry His praises and worship Him. 

Your eyes to see, your ears to hear, your softness to console, your hardness to withstand, and all in His Perfect Will. 

Fearfully.

Wonderfully.

Marvelously. 

Skillfully.

And for this we shall praise Him. 

Fraidy Cat

I've been living in fear for long that it's become as normal as breathing. 

I've been afraid of failing, afraid to succeed, afraid to be honest, afraid people won't like me when they get to know me, afraid of my very shadow. I became adept at hiding away my fears from everyone, mostly myself.

I was always smart as a child. I learned to read early and people would ask me to read things from books and magazines as though I were a circus act. My brother often struggled academically and I remember people suggesting that he ask me for help. His baby sister who was 3 1/2 years younger than he was. How awful for him. I subconsciously became ashamed and afraid of my intelligence. I would only do and show enough to get approval. Eventually I would become lazy enough to not even want to do that. I found various and wonderfully unique ways to sabotage my academic success. I was still smart after all. 

As I got older, and thicker, I, like most teenagers, got afraid of not ever having a boyfriend. I didn't think I was pretty enough, or thin enough or just 'enough' for a guy to like me. And like most teenagers I decided that if I was a little more "open" than the next girl, then I would have a boyfriend. I gave away my power and lost a lot of myself during that time. 

I got pregnant at 18 and became terrified. Every parent out there knows that feeling. Afraid of not being a good mom, afraid of the responsibility of caring for another human life, afraid of him getting sick, afraid of me getting sick. And mostly afraid to admit that I had no earthly idea what I was doing. I hid that fear masterfully. 

After I got married, I became afraid of losing him. I feared that if I got fat, he would leave me. I feared his mother would convince him that I really wasn't good enough for him, just like she thought. I feared that some other prettier, stronger, thinner, more responsible woman would sweep through and take what was mine. After some time I really did manage to suppress that fear almost to nothing. Until he actually did leave. Now I'm more afraid than ever. Afraid that no one will ever love me again. Afraid that I'll end up alone, and worse, end up lonely. 

I am afraid of my strengths and my weaknesses. I am afraid to expose too much of either one to people lest they think I am too much of one or the other. And then what good am I?

I am afraid of living in the shadow of one of the greatest Women of God I have ever known. My mom is an amazing preacher, teacher and healer of broken women. She is transparency personified. She mothers so many women and I am afraid of my jealousy towards them.  I am afraid they will look at me and know that I am not the same as she and they will not value me. 

I'm afraid of not being successful at things that I do. That fear makes me not want to try. I  am afraid of my spirituality and of my gifts. I am afraid of the responsibility of sharing Christ's love with another person. What if I don't do it right? What if I cause more harm than good? What if they knew about all of my fears and insecurities? Why would anyone listen to me?

But worst of all, I am afraid that I will never be good enough for Him.

"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." 2 Timothy 1:7

I know. 

It is this simple, yet masterful sentence that gets me out of bed in the morning. It's what keeps me in check. It is this spirit that allows me to type out my greatest fears for all to read and know that every reader will know exactly where I'm coming from and not judge me one bit. It's this spirit that helps me to be honest with myself and others about the role of God in my life. It gives me purpose.

Also I know that God already knew what I would be dealing with and so he specifically sent me these kids, that husband, that mom, those friends, to teach me the lessons that I need to learn about myself. They are my mirror that He uses to show me myself. And for that I am grateful. 

Of course I'm good enough for Him. He made me and He doesn't make mistakes. 

In love,
Mona

Saving Me

When I met my husband in 1989, I was a bit of a mess. I was a 21-year old college dropout, mother of a 2-year old son and I had no direction. In the first 3 months of our relationship, I had my car repossessed, was evicted from my apartment and lived for a short time in a homeless hotel. I was a lot of a mess. And he loved me. He rode in on his white horse, like a true knight in shining armor, and he saved me from myself. He accepted my son as his own, he helped me get my finances in a little bit of order and the three of us became a family. He helped me to be more responsible and most importantly, he loved me. 100% loved me, flaws and all. We were good friends. I came into the relationship with a son, debt and some clothes. He had clothes and a television and we were determined to make it work. 

On March 4, 1990 we got married, just the three of us at the Little Chapel in National City. And my life took on a whole new meaning. I was all at once a mom and a military wife. I was responsible for keeping the home fires burning while he was away serving in the Navy. I had to take care of home when he was away for as long as 6 months overseas. It was a challenge sometimes, but we loved each other immensely. And we made it work. He was my soulmate, sent from God to save me. 

From nothing we built a life. We bought furniture and cars. We had a daughter to round out our family of four. We eventually moved east and bought a house and got dogs. We had a great life. Sure we struggled along the way. But we always made it through. We were like Mr. and Mrs. MacGyver. There wasn't anything we couldn't do together. We were a unit. And nothing would ever come between us. It was us against the world. 

For 19 years. In 19 years we created an amazing life together, raised two awesome kids, lived in a beautiful home, drove nice cars, traveled a little here and there. But 19 years was all there was going to be. Eventually something did come between us. Time and distance. 

July 4, 2009 was the beginning of the end. It was a day I could not have ever imagined. It was a day outside of any realm of possibility for me and my life. It still feels like a dream, even to this day. But it wasn't. 

Long story short, we were divorced 2 years later. It was finalized on June 15, 2011. And I regretted it from that very moment. There is a whole lot of story in those two years, but that's not what this post is about. 

From the time that my divorce was final until today, March 3, 2013 I have been waiting for him to come back and save me again. I've been waiting for him to 'come to his senses' and return to me to help me get my life back on track. How was I supposed to manage this house alone? What if the roof caved in? My finances are an absolute mess, but if he came back, we could sort that out together, just like we did back when we were in our twenties. We were supposed to grow old together and spoil grandkids together. He had to be here for that, right? What if I got sick, wouldn't he come back then to nurse me? Surely if I got cancer, he would be back in a flash to care for me. He loves me. Right? 

I suffered from severe depression. I held all of my feelings, sadness, despair, hopelessness, helplessness and faithlessness inside for so long. I was a wreck. If only he'd come back to fix me again just like he did when I was 21. It would all be okay again, right? 

Wrong.

The problem was not that he wasn't coming back to save me. The problem was that I was already BEING saved, by God and I just couldn't see it. No, I take that back. I saw a lot of God saving me over these last few years. I did. He saved me in some really huge ways. I almost had my house foreclosed, but God kept a roof over our head and we never got foreclosed, even after not having paid my mortgage for 9 months. And I ended up actually paying a lesser amount than before. 

I was without a job for almost 4 months with no unemployment. And the lights stayed on, and there was food in the refrigerator and my bills were paid. Plenty of that help came from my friends and family, who went out of their way to help me. I was being saved.

But I was looking for an emotional saving. I was looking for my old life back. My old marriage and my old friend. Without that, who was I? Why was I? I felt like I was never going to be truly happy until he came back. That part of me that was missing; that hole in my heart that was carved out and waiting for him. I wanted that part back. 

Today I was told, and finally realized, that my ex-husband isn't going to save me, but it's God. God is going to restore my life, better than it was before. God has been working in me and on me in the last few years, despite my bitterness and anger towards Him, to get me to the place to recognize that HE is my saving grace. HE is my knight in shining armor, my shelter in the storm and my very present help. 

Years ago God gave me a passage in Jeremiah 33 which said:


6 “‘Nevertheless, I will bring health and healing to it; I will heal my people and will let them enjoy abundant peace and security. 7 I will bring Judah and Israel back from captivity and will rebuild them as they were before. 8 I will cleanse them from all the sin they have committed against me and will forgive all their sins of rebellion against me. 9 Then this city will bring me renown, joy, praise and honor before all nations on earth that hear of all the good things I do for it; and they will be in awe and will tremble at the abundant prosperity and peace I provide for it.’

10 “This is what the Lord says: ‘You say about this place, “It is a desolate waste, without people or animals.” Yet in the towns of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem that are deserted, inhabited by neither people nor animals, there will be heard once more 11 the sounds of joy and gladness, the voices of bride and bridegroom, and the voices of those who bring thank offerings to the house of the Lord, saying,

“Give thanks to the Lord Almighty,
for the Lord is good;
his love endures forever.”
For I will restore the fortunes of the land as they were before,’ says the Lord.

And all this time I thought He meant that my marriage was going to be restored. When all along He meant that "I" was going to be restored. That I would once again have my passion for Him again. I would have my gifts and talents on display for Him. That I would be able to speak to others and share my story for His glory. I would write a blog post and someone would find strength, or assurance, or peace again through Him. 

Jeremiah 33 is Him saving me. And he's been saving me, day after day, mistake after mistake, tear after tear, fear after fear, pain upon pain; until I could start to see and hear Him again. Until I could feel joy and passion again. Until I could find my saving in Him. 

My knight in shining armor. 

In love,
Mona

The Spiritual Me Chronicles: Kitchen Sink Praying

I began to wonder how I came to be the Spiritual Me that I am today. Who and what were the influences that helped to create me? How did I get here? I'm going to take a few posts to explore my influences. 

-----
My grandma Jessie was my first memory of Spiritual influence. Not only did she teach me the 23rd Psalm. But she also taught me the Lord's Prayer from Matthew 6

Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread.  And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen

But she did more than teach me to memorize the words, she modeled what prayer should look like.

I cannot count how many times I would come upon my grandma speaking in this kind of loud whisper, like she was talking to herself. She'd do it while she was standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes. She did it when she was standing over the stove cooking. She did it when she was hanging clothes out on the line. She did it everywhere and all the time. I remember as a very little girl asking, "who are you talking to Grandma?" and she'd say, "I'm talking to the Lord." 

She talked to God all of the time. All. of. the. time. Hear me when I say. It became such a normal thing for my childhood, to try and catch what grandma was saying to God. Of course I thought it was funny was I was little, watching my grandma talk to herself. I don't think I ever did make out what she was saying! 

And truly, looking back, it didn't matter what she said. What she was teaching me was that her relationship with God was not limited to Sunday mornings, or Wednesday night prayer meetings. Prayer wasn't reserved for kneeling by your bedside at night. Prayer was for all the time and in every circumstance and situation.

She took everything to God. She stayed before the Lord about her 5 children and her grandchildren, her husband, her family, her bills, her needs and wants. She wasn't shy about talking to Him anywhere and everywhere. And in doing that she showed me that God was *always* there, ever present and ever listening.

Imagine the power of learning from the beginning of your life that God's presence was near. That He was so accessible that all you had to do was open your mouth and talk. It didn't have to be from the pulpit. Your prayers are just as effective at the kitchen sink as they are at the altar.

When I think back on it, it was such a blessed thing to have experienced. To see how God used Jessie to set me up for becoming my Spiritual self. Because of course it didn't take long for me to find myself doing the very same thing when I got older. It was instinctual to do it. To pray in the car, or the shower, or at work or lying in bed or doing the laundry.

I hope Jessie knows how big of an impact she had on my when I was just a tiny little thing. Her teaching me not only the words to say but the fearlessness in saying them whenever and wherever.

Nothing fancy, no big words and demonstrations, just talking to God.

Thanks Grandma!

In love,
Mona

The Spiritual Me Chronicles: Grandma Jessie

I began to wonder how I came to be the Spiritual Me that I am today. Who and what were the influences that helped to create me? How did I get here? I'm going to take a few posts to explore my influences. 

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My first true biblical memory was my grandmother, Jessie Ray, teaching me the 23rd Psalm. I don't even remember how old I was. Maybe 3 or 4, I guess. She kept reciting it to me over and over, verse by verse, until I had memorized every word. We did it night after night, in our nightgowns, nestled together in her twin bed, her reading from a little pocket-sized bible, for I don't know how long.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;

He leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul;

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; 

Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Amen

Funny thing is, to this very day, it's the first thing I think of when I'm afraid. It's my go-to scripture when things are topsy turvy or when I don't know what to do or where to go. I shout it when I'm riding on a scary roller coaster ride, or when I find out that a friend has died from cancer. It's what I say to calm myself when I wake up from a nightmare and when I don't know what else to say in times of trouble. 

It represents for me the presence of comfort. The warmth and comfort of grandma's lap. The memory of the top of her dresser, full of lipstick tubes, a brush, hair grease and lotion; a bottle of Timeless perfume by Avon and a round container of sweet powder with its white puff. The smell and feel of her makeup sponge that she wiped on her face. Her foam wig head. My Jessie.

I wonder why, of all of the chapters and verses in the bible, did she choose this one? Could she have known of its power to calm me? Surely she didn't know I would think of her every time I said it and that it would remind me of the simple times of childhood.

What was she trying to teach me?

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want 

He makes me

He leads me

He restores me

He comforts me 

He prepares for me

He anoints me

His goodness and mercy follows me 

It's reminds me of her comfort and ultimately teaches me about God's comfort.

 

I'm surprised how often I have to remind myself that God is in control. That He is at the end of my life looking backwards. The 23rd Psalm speaks to all that God does to bring me through. What an amazing first lesson. 

Jessie taught me so much more. We'll delve into it all bit by bit. 

In love,

Mona  

Watch Night

I went to church on New Year's Eve. A Watch Night service at Joint-Heirs Kingdom Ministries where my mom attends. Before that night I had been to a Sunday church service once in 2012 and not any time in 2011 (not including attending funerals). I don't even know what compelled me to go. And I was seriously compelled, from within. I said "I'm going to church tonight" even without wanting to say it. And I couldn't stop myself from going.

JHKM is a small but powerful ministry. It felt good to be there. I was a little nervous at first. I know no one expects God to strike you with lightning for not going to church, but you never want to chance it!! But the music was soul-stirring and uplifting. I let go soon enough and just hoped that I could find myself again.

The pastor, Darryl Carter, kept asking if anyone had a testimony. I almost stood up 5 times, but I resisted. I didn't want to be so cliche as to not go to church in 2 years and then cry my eyes out about it in front of strangers. So I kept my seat. The Word was great. People spoke about getting into position and getting ready for battle and moving forward. Everything I needed to hear. Everything I wanted to hear. 

At midnight we celebrated "making it over" and church kept right on. We kept trying to wrap it up, but you know it is when God is moving. I had a fantastic time. I felt at home. 

God spoke a Word to me that early morning. A word that was ominous but powerful. Not scary but necessary. He said some things thru Pastor Carter that could have only come from God, because this pastor doesn't know me from Adam. And I heard that Word. Every syllable. 

And after not feeling like God was speaking to me for such a long time, I was a sweet sound in my ear, in my heart and through my soul. 

Surprisingly, I went back the following Sunday. 

Who knows, this might just become a habit. 

Be blessed,
Mona

Nevertheless

I know lots of Christians don't believe in horoscopes or astrology. Indulge me. I'm a Virgo (born between August 22-September 23). And most descriptions of Virgo tend to include words like analytical, precise, independent, frank, honest and critical. We worry. A lot. We are often described as control freaks and perfectionists. Yeah...pretty much.

I am all of those things. And more. But I am most assuredly an independent control freak. I like to take care of myself and everything around me. I like to be in control of my surroundings and my destiny. 

I like to be in control. Like Janet

Being a person who likes to be... no, NEEDS to be, in control of everything sometimes makes this Christian walk a very difficult one.

Trusting God, and His Word, means giving up control. I used to think I did that. I would constantly say 'not my will, but your will be done' but I didn't mean it. I said I wanted His will for my life, but I meant as long as it was what I wanted. As long as it His promises were fulfilled right away. As long as it looked like I wanted it to look like. 

I never meant it for real. 

Probably the only one who ever really meant it was Jesus.
-----
Then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane, and said to the disciples, “Sit here while I go and pray over there.” And He took with Him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, and He began to be sorrowful and deeply distressed. Then He said to them, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. Stay here and watch with Me.”

He went a little farther and fell on His face, and prayed, saying, “O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will. Matthew 26:36-39
---
Jesus actually meant that. He was serious in that He knew that everything He was going to face after He left the Garden at Gethsemane was going to be harsh, brutal and torturous. His flesh would want to avoid that at all costs. But He knew it had to happen. His spirit was aware of the implications and He made the choice to go forward. In full knowledge of what was to come and with All Power to stop it at any time. 

Because it wasn't for Him. It was for us. 
Nevertheless, not His will but God's will be done. 
Nevertheless.
In spite of. 

Learning to walk in God's will is excruciatingly hard for someone like me. Because I have to have my hand in all things Mona. I like to direct the movie that is my life. I want to dictate all of the ins and outs - and if you ask my friends and family, I like to direct their lives too. *shrug*

But recent events have helped me learn what 'nevertheless' really means. Leaving DC and moving home, not being able to find a job, having to rely on the kindness of friends and family to help me pay bills, keep gas in the car and food in the fridge. I have been brought to a low that I never thought possible. 

No one brought me here. I did this on my own, in my attempts to control my life outside of what I know is God's will. 

Humility is a terrible, scary, awful thing. But in humility I was able to really recognize the hand God has in my life. It was only in this low place was I able to see and appreciate the generous spirit of everyone in my life. Only from down here could I look up and see God in every one of my relationships. My ex-husband, my children, my parents, my friends have all done exceedingly above and beyond anything I would have expected of them. I am grateful. 

Despite not having any income or unemployment, and difficulty in finding a job, I have been sustained. I have had to learn to trust that God will provide. I have learned to understand that if I let Him, His will can be done. It will be done.

I do not for one minute believe that God put me in this place. No. I did that on my own. For certain. I am dealing with the consequences of my own actions. But God is here nevertheless.

I have found God's mercy and grace. In spite of not doing anything to earn it.

I know that He loves me. In spite of my very vocal doubts and fears. 

I am confident that He has a purpose and a plan for my life. In spite of me not fully trusting in this before. 

It has been a painful, depressing, sad, tragic journey  to this place of 'nevertheless'. I wish I could say I would make the same decisions if I had to do it all over again, but this is not a place for lies. I wouldn't. I most assuredly would try to trust God without all this mess. 

But I have learned some valuable life lessons inside of this mess. I learned that asking for help will not kill me dead. I learned that people will do whatever it takes to help me.  I learned that love is not dependent on the ability to pay back a debt. I learned that divorce does not end a 30 year friendship. I learned that what you invest in your relationships and your children, reaps a great reward. I learned that people love me. 

And I fear I have more to learn. But I am more ready for them than ever before. I am ready to begin to look at 'nevertheless' in a whole new way. 

Because apparently it's not about me anyway. 

Nevertheless, not my will, but His will be done. 

And I mean it this time. 

A Man Had Two Daughters

Many of us are familiar with the story of the Prodigal Son as told in Luke 15: 11-32. 

A man had two sons. His youngest son decides he wants to go off on his own and see the world. He asks his father for his share of his inheritance. His father gives it to him and off he goes, parties hard and squanders everything. Eventually the land he is in suffers a famine and he is left starving and is left to feed pigs. He's so hungry he wants to eat their slop. He comes to his senses and knows that his father has servants who eat 3 square meals a day. He decides to go back to his father to declare that he had sinned again God and him, beg his forgiveness and to ask, not to be his son again, but to simply get a job as a servant. Of course the father sees him and lays out a magnificent party for him, ordering the fatted calf to be killed in his honor. 

The oldest son finds out and refuses to attend the party. He confronts his dad saying "I have been here working day in and day out. I've done everything you've ever asked of me and I don't get so much as a goat. And this fool blows all of his cash and you throw him this celebration? Nah!"

The father tells him that everything he has belongs to him but his brother was once dead and now is alive. That is reason to celebrate!

And so?

Well upon hearing this story, as told by Andy Stanley, I realized that I have been both of these brothers within the last few years. And I think many of us have.

Rewind back to 2009-2010 when I was fighting hard for my marriage. God gave me a word and things to do and ways to behave. I did everything God asked me to do. I prayed, I praised, I worshipped, I trusted, I believed and I waited. And waited. And waited. To no avail. The restoration I was told was coming didn't come. In fact, situations arose that made restoration seemed completely impossible. 

And I got pissed. I confronted God and reminded Him that I had done everything he asked me to do. I was there, daily, on my knees and in worship. I was walking in blind faith, believing and trusting. I did what I was supposed to do. "How could you not give me what I was asking for. How could I believe in You anymore when I felt that You had lied to me. Betrayed me. Set me up for a fall. Not even a goat? Nah!"

So what did I do? I become the Prodigal One. I literally sold nearly everything I had a left for a faraway place. Well DC, but you get my meaning. I left behind all of the pain and sorrow and sadness and memories of the previous years. Or so I thought. But, like anyone who runs away and doesn't face up to the truth, a lot of reality hit me in the face. 

The decisions I made caused a lot of financial problems and I just wasn't happy there. Not as happy as I could be or should be. I missed my family and friends. I squandered everything and though I never got to the point where I was starving and had to feed pigs, I was spiritually starved and anxious for the love and comfort of those who knew and loved me. 

After a long tearful talk with my daughter, I called my mom and told her I wanted to come home. While there was no fatted calf killed on my behalf, my family and friends were, and still are, celebrating my return. 

Things financially are still a mess, but God is faithful. I have been without a job for 3 months. There is still a roof over my head, the lights are still on, I'm not hungry, the water is still running and I am making it. There is no explanation for it but that God Himself is glad that I'm home. He has proclaimed that I was once dead and now I am alive. Maybe the fatted calf is in Heaven, along with that grand celebration. 

He is working it out. This I know.

As for that restoration. I know he's working that out too. I just have to wait. And trust. And believe. 

If He said it, then it is. 

Why Faith

Back a while I kept hearing from God that I was going to be restored; that my marriage was going to be restored. It was Jeremiah 33. I kept getting it over and over and over. I prayed on it, meditated on it and believed on it with all of my heart and soul. It was going to come to pass. It just was because God said it was. Done. 

Then I found out something about my husband that shattered my belief in Jeremiah 33. And if God had meant that restoration then why did this thing occur? How could there be restoration after this? No way.

Then the questions started. Did God really say that? Did I hear it right? Maybe I made up that whole thing in my head, in my desperation to get my marriage back. What was I hearing? If I was only hearing my own sad and pitiful attempts to hold on to something, then maybe nothing I ever heard was real. 

Maybe God wasn't real. How could I even know now? 

If God was real, why would he promise me restoration only to have it shattered right before my eyes? I asked God for answers and got nothing in return. I cried, cussed, begged, pleaded, cajoled and wailed for a response. Anything to hold on to. Anything to keep on believing. I got nothing. 

I was so angry. At God for giving me false hope. At myself for deceiving my own thoughts. And God some more for not showing me something to keep on going. 

SHOW ME ANYTHING. SAY SOMETHING. ANYTHING...... nothing.

How? Why? I don't get it. 

Worse I was surrounded by all kinds of Christian platitudes about why God becomes silent. How Christians have to have desert experiences. Maybe I didn't believe enough. Maybe I didn't have enough faith. Maybe it wasn't God's time. Maybe I didn't do everything God wanted me to do. Maybe maybe maybe. Forget that.

So all the blame falls on me. Okay then. So when I seek God and ask Him to show me what to do, how to do it and when - and I hear nothing. Then who is really to blame? 

I asked for clarity, guidance, whatever I need to do. Nothing. 

Where did I go wrong God? Nothing. 

Am I on the wrong track God? Nothing.

I am scared I am losing faith, God. Nothing.

I am scared I am start to not believe, God. Nothing.

Show me a reason to believe, God. Nothing. 

Maybe there is no God. Nothing. 

Truth be told, I actually wanted to not believe anymore. I wanted the freedom from the constraints of religion and spirituality that atheists have. I wanted it so badly. But try as I might I could not let it go. 

That's insanity. I had no reason to believe. God clearly didn't care if I believed anymore since all of my efforts to get Him to tell me otherwise fell on deaf ears, so to speak. Why in God's name would I still believe? 

...

...

...

...

Because I do. 

The whole of my life's experiences demand it. The things I have seen and felt and known in my life prove it. Once, a long time ago, I confessed that Jesus Christ died on the cross for my sins, rose again and is sitting on the right hand of God. I confessed that Jesus Christ was my Lord and Savior. And in doing so guaranteed that all my sins were washed away.

I didn't say He was my Savior, but only if things went my way. 

I didn't say He was my Savior, when I felt good and things were good.

I didn't say He was my Savior, only when I could hear His voice and sing His praises.

I said He was and He is. 

And if God never speaks another word to me; if he never does another thing for me; if never intercedes for me, He did send His Son to die on the cross for me. 

And that is enough. 

But I know that God has a purpose and plan for my life. I know the plans he has for me are good and not evil. I know that before I was formed in my mother's womb He knew me and set me apart. I know that I know that I know. No matter what.

That's why faith.

Faith? Faith Hill maybe.

This blog is called Fanning the Flames of Faith. What happens when the blogger, me, loses faith? What do I do? Do I change the name of the blog? I don't know.


It's weird to write that I have lost my faith. It such a foreign concept to me, to lose faith. But I guess it happens to everyone at some point in time. I can't imagine my mom reading this, or any of my best friends, reading this and really understanding what a huge moment this is for me. 


I can't say that I have lost all faith. I mean the bible says that God gives each of a mustard seed of faith. So I guess it's more accurate to say that all I feel left with it that little teeny tiny mustard seed of faith. Everything else, that storehouse of faith I used to have, has long since been depleted. I guess there was a tiny little crack in the wall of my storehouse and all of my faith started leaking out. I even know what caused the crack. It was the moment I realized that all that I had been blogging about, all that I had been praying for, the restoration of my marriage, was not going to happen. Nothing I did, said, prayed or believed was going to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. It cracked my wall and all of my faith started pouring out.


I could feel it happen. In fact, if I think about it, it wasn't even a slow leak of my faith. It was really more like a mad rush, like water busting through a dam. Oh maybe it was a dribble at first but it grew and grew and grew until one day I was all out of faith. 


I am all out of it right now. I have a whole lot of awful going on in my life at the moment. I will eventually get into it. But right now I'll start with the confession that my little blog about faith is going to be a little different for a while. 


I am deep in a hole. A hole of despair and sadness and shame and anxiety and loneliness. I can't see or hear God right now. I am bordering on losing all of my belief. I'm in a vicious circle of not being able to pray but knowing, logically, that I need to pray. I can't. I can yell at God. I can rant and rave about this hole I'm in. But I can't pray and I certainly can't praise. I can't see my way forward. I can't see how this gets any better. 


And I have to start talking about this or lose what's left of my mind. 


If you believe, then pray for me. If you trust, then trust for me. If you sing, then sing for me. If you hope, then hope for me. Because I am all out. I can't right now. 


Back later.

Been a while

It's been a long while since I've blogged here on this site. I've been through so much since June 26, 2009. I have been divorced, had my daughter graduate from high school and start college and I've relocated myself away from home.

There's been a lot of distance between me and God during that time. A lot of anger, pain, resentment and mistrust. It's time he and I started to deal with that and determine what it means for my spiritual life.

So my entries now will, I hope, help me in this self-examination and God-examination - as I explore what it means to fight it out with God.

I don't know where this will go or how it will end, but it's time to start facing Him, and myself.

Here we go.

Dream Deferred

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

Like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over--

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

~ Langston Hughes

--------------------------------

What does happen to your dreams when they don't come true? What happens when all that you have prayed for just doesn't come to pass? What do you do?

Funny thing is I don't have the answer. I'm looking for it. I had a dream and *poof* it just disappeared. Did it go into thin air, somewhere off into the atmosphere? Is it floating just above my head, but just out of my grasp? Is it buried beneath my feet, down in the dark cold earth? Did it sink down into the bottom of the ocean, suffocating among the seaweed and kelp? Where is it?

I wonder if that's what happened to my dreams because that's how I feel. One moment I feel as though I'm floating above, watching my own suffering below. Other times I feel buried underneath the cold weight of sadness. And yet again sometimes I feel as though I have been holding my breath for so long under water that my lungs are about to explode.

So this blog is supposed to be about faith and devotion. And at this moment I am searching for a spiritual meaning to the deferral of my dreams. What is God's divine purpose?

I HAVE NO IDEA

Right now I'm ticked with God. He knows and I know it so let's not pretend otherwise. I mean it was a pretty important dream. It wasn't a dream to win the lottery or anything like that. It was a dream that had meaning and substance and value and purpose. This dream had past and present and future. It has history. It was a yesterday, today and tomorrow dream. But it is no more. And so now what?

I am devoid of understanding right now. I miss my dream and it's only minutes old in it's death. I simply can't grasp it right now.

But as miserable as I am right now; as angry and confused and sad as I am. I still know that God has a purpose and a plan for my life. Even though I may be stopped dead in my tracks I hold on to the fact that before I was formed in my mother's womb He knew me and set me apart. My faith may be shaken, but it's not broken. I know that the thoughts that God has towards me are good and not evil; that He plans to prosper me and not harm me. That He has for me hope and a future.

My teary eyes may not be able to see that future. It may be blurry right now but I know that it is there. And it's that implanted hope that will get me up tomorrow morning. And the next day and the next day and the next, until His plan bears out.

But until then pray for me. Pray my continued strength in the Lord.

In love,

Mona

Looking Back

Everyone has a beginning. God said in Jeremiah 1:5, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.”

That is your beginning. A moment of thought in God’s mind. A fleeting speck of time so small that we can’t even think it or imagine it with our little brains. It was in that 1 billionth of a nanosecond that you began. Because God *thought* you.

And what did He think? He said in Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope – to bring you to an expected end.”

In a piece of time that we can’t even fathom, God thought you. He thought peace for you. He thought about your future. He placed in you hope. And you were still only a thought, an idea, a figment of His imagination and He already had a plan.

So you were born. Some of you into poverty. Some into the middle class. Maybe some rich. Some to a single mom. Some to a two-parent home. Some to an alcoholic. Some to a drug addict. Some to a teacher. Some to a prostitute. Some of you had blond hair. Others had brown hair. Some had naps and some had curls. Some had brown eyes and others had blue or green. Some were early and some were late.

But the one thing each of us has in common is that we were all born with a soul already hardwired with the hope and future that God thought for us. Each of us was born with a mustard seed of faith and a yearning in our heart for God.

And so we grew up. We grew from Mother May I to I wish my mother would get off my back.

From big wheels to texting behind the wheel

From baby dolls to Come on Baby, if you loved me you would

From EZ Bake Oven to a bun in the oven

From Ring Around the Rosie to with this ring I thee wed.

From Duck Duck Goose to duck, there’s goes my husband

From hopscotch to I’ll have another scotch

From kickball to an eight ball

Life happens. Real life on this planet ruled by evil. We steal. We lie. We act up on our jobs. We smoke weed or crack, we drink, we gamble, we have sex, we get abused and we abuse others. We abort babies. We mistreat our loved ones. We cheat on our tests and our spouses too.

We sin.

We lose our faith. We can’t feel our hope and we throw away our future. We forget.

But no matter how down and out we get, no matter how low. No matter how sick and tired of being sick and tired we get, one day something inside of us cries out to the Lord.

Remember me
Remember me
Ohhh, ohh Lord
Remember me

This is how we used to start service at St Paul Baptist Church in Geneva when I was a kid. Someone would moan:

Remember me
Remember me
Ohhh, ohh Lord
Remember me

Father I stretch
My hands to thee
No other, no other help
I know

And God remembered.

He remembered that we thought of Him one lonely night, even while we were drunk or high or laying up in that bed. He remembered that He heard our mamas and our grandmamas praying for us every night and every Sunday morning in church.

He remember all that He had planted inside of us in that moment so long long ago. He remembered that He sent His Son to die on the Cross for our every sin. He remembered that we were His children.

And in that 1 billionth of a nanosecond that it took to remember, our past was erased. God said that as far as the East is from the West is how far He has separated our sins from us. He said He would cast all our sins in the depths of the sea.

And so we begin to travel down a new road. Fresh start. Clean slate. New mercy.

The problem is that God cast our sins away, but not our memories. Not our friends. Not our families. Not our neighborhoods. Not all of the bars, crackhouses or dealers. Not this world.

All of that is still there. Calling to us from the past. Some days it feels like it’s barreling down on us. Breathing right down our necks. Do we dare to look back?

Yes and No

Sometimes you gotta look back just to see how far you’ve come. You gotta peek back and see that’s it’s been a week since you had a drink. It’s been 6 weeks since you cussed anybody out. It’s been 3 months since you smoked a little weed. It’s been 9 months since you chose not to abort that baby. It’s been a year since you stopped using sex as a weapon. It’s been 5 years since you put that crack pipe down. It’s been 17 years since you let a man beat you. It’s been 25 years since you’ve been molested. It’s been 42 years since God had that first thought about me.

Oh yeah, you gotta peek back there every now and again to understand where God has brought you from. You take a glimpse back but you keep it moving forward.

You don’t turn back. You don’t go back. Sometimes the past is so familiar and so normal that some days it may seem easier to just turn back. Sinning is easy. Making the tough choice to do right is hard.

Sodom and Gomorrah is your past. God destroyed it with raining fire. It’s just ashes now. It’s done and over with.

God’s chosen path for your life is ahead of you. It’s through the desert sometimes, but it’s ahead. It’s around a corner you can’t see, but it’s ahead. It’s through struggles, but it’s ahead.

And yes, you might walk through the shadow of valley of death, but don’t fear, God is with you. He orders the steps of a good man and good woman. And though you fall, you will not be cast down because the Lord holds you up with His hand.

God’s purpose for your life is ahead not behind. The lives you will affect are in front of you. The souls you bring to kingdom are ahead. The full use of your gifts and callings are to come.

Your past is behind you and its purpose is to push you forward; to keep you pressing towards the goal. (Phil 3:13-14) But you can’t live back there rehashing all the things you have done or have been done to you.

God said 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 desert and streams in the wasteland. (Isaiah 43:18-19)

But be confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. (Philippians 1:6)

Keep moving forward.

In love,

Mona

The Hand

My father listened to all kinds of music. I was lucky enough to be exposed to jazz, blues, rhythm & blues, country, pop and even a little classical. He even managed to throw in some spoken word with Nikki Giovanni and Gil Scott Heron. One artist that he listened to a lot, and who is in my iPod right now is Bill Withers. He has a song called Grandma's Hand that can still make me cry today.

This song reminded me so much of my own grandma Jessie, who I was very very close to. She died April 14, 2002 but she is still so much a part of my life. But mostly my prayer life. She used to literally pray under her breath all day long. While cooking, cleaning or whatever, you could hear her soft whispered words calling out to the Lord. Funny thing is I do the same thing today. I miss her.

My favorite verse from the song is "Grandma's Hands used to lift her face and tell her, "Baby, Grandma understands that you really love that man. Put yourself in Jesus hands"

No matter what we're going through, that is what we need to do: PUT OURSELVES IN GOD'S HANDS!

In God's hand there is security. "He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken." Psalm 62:2

In God's hand there is peace. "You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you." Isaiah 26:3

In God's hand there is strength. "God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble." Psalm 46:1

In God's hand there is rest. "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

In God's hand there is safety. "My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of My Father’s hand. I and My Father are one.” John 10:27-30

To put yourself in God's hands requires that you surrender all of yourself to Him. That you knowingly and consciously decide that you want His will and not your own. That you will trust Him completely in all things and that you will wait on Him.

Once you totally surrender it all to Him, you will find yourself at peace. There is peace in knowing that God's perfect will for your live is at hand. God knows the plans He has for you. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Just call upon Him and pray to Him. He will listen.

Put yourself in His Hands and wait. But while you're waiting, praise, pray and worship!

In love,

Mona