Ladies By Design

Shadows or Light?

I lay still, blinking out light. Lenses focus on the fan, blowing shadows across the ceiling. But wait. As slumber recedes I find the gift. If I watch purposely, I see not shadows, but prisms of light. Perspective shifts as I reframe the gutteral response to the coming of day. My life too, holds this promise. I must seek new meaning, letting go of the language of death and learning the tongue of life.  Words are powerful; what I tell myself shapes how I interpret what is real. This is not merely determining whether the glass is half full or half empty. I must shake off emotional slumber, retrain my critical eye to grasp new understandings. Will I choose to focus the lens of my life on loss or on gifts? As I seek healing I understand that now is the time to lay down disappointment, ways I feel wronged. It's time to determine to see the good. I need not look far, for there is much goodness to behold. For every shortcoming surrendered there is life and goodnes to be found in abundance. 

Determination is the key. If I determine to reframe, to focus now on the good, new life will well up within me. It's time to push past the old tapes that play in my head, and turn away from negativity. It's imperative to turn a deaf ear to the enemy of my soul. As I seek to stamp out the old way, he whispers only lies from before. New eyes will seek truth, focus on moving forward, not wallowing in woundedness. What has shriveled in me can grow anew-when I invite grace to rain down. Hope and healing are found in the well watered place, but to see, I must watch for the light. No excuses. Do I want to walk in truth? 

Learning the lifestyle of gratitude requires practice-- a conscious decision to focus not on shadows, but on light. It's not yet second nature, but it can be, through time and determination. And then,then my life holds promise, transformation of mind and heart begun through gratefulness. It's time to move out of the shadows and embrace the prism of Light.

~Bekah

Finding Freedom

I have only just begun this journey towards a lifestyle of Thanksgiving, starting to feel the rhythm of this God awareness in all I see, all I do, and those I hold dear. And then, a day like this... a window slammed shut, not on fingers, but on my heart. Today is a day that no matter how hard I try, I cannot forget the losses and challenges that define the life of a family of four with six diagnoses between us. (Yes, there are now two more.) Diabetes bellows and PTSD hammers at my soul, and I snap. Five years of stress and struggle and spiritual warfare pour out of my mouth, long hidden anger reaches a crescendo.

In One Thousand Gifts, Ann speaks of salvation from angry, bitter, and resentful lives. And this I have learned over time: Anger is a natural cue that something wrong has happened. It's a God given alert to something that needs to be dealt with. Women are taught that anger detracts from loveliness, and when it is repressed until we explode, or carried as a satchel, it does. But the first stirrings, the recognition that harm has been done, that is akin to what Jesus felt when he defended the oppressed and chased the money changers out of God's holy temple. Where we get into trouble is when we hold on to our anger, trying to use it as power over those who've hurt us. Scarring deepens as we chew on anger, turning it over and over in our minds and hearts until that bitter taste has permeated our souls. Bitterness can turn us into resentful, poisonous, death walkers.

What is the cure for this diseased cycle? I know- I remember this lesson, the first learning which began with giving thanks, my own heart cry to him:

I give thanks to You, Jesus, that you chose to hold the nails, to bear my mark, my shame, my loss. You took the weight of my own sin, my every imperfection, and you stayed. You tarried in the place of anguish- so I could have release.

And the refrain that follows, rejoicing, choosing, echoes hope; "Because you forgive me still, I choose to extend that same forgiveness to one who hurt me."

This forgiveness is not an excusing of the offense, such as "He could not help it"... Nor is it pretending I am not angry at the wounding. For I am. And I have good reason. Yet what frees me, what leads me to "Sozo"--salvation, and wholeness-- what looses my shackles is admitting where I am, what I feel, what I judged, and why. And the choice is mine- to be like Jesus or to be like those who crucified him: angry, sullen, sin-sick and clenching hatefulness.

I name this gift aloud, the gift of Jesus... Even on the cross he forgave his tormentors. Not after He rose again, but from the midst of his greatest torment. I am washed in awe at human flesh mangled into a bloody mess, yet crying out, "Father, Forgive them, for they know not what they do!"

This "Sozo" salvation begins with gratitude for what Jesus bore for me. The next step is forgiveness. Faith without forgiveness leaves us still shackled to the oppressor. Not one of us deserves forgiveness. It is a gift. It's been offered. We can choose to do the work to break the chains.

Healing, which I know I still need in hidden places, is worth the work. A ball like tangled string may be buried deep, but my Healer tenderly unearths each strand, unwinding what has knotted my soul. Soothing, covering, restoring. Healing hands are firm, but gentle, rebuilding what was broken, breathing newness and life. Setting the order, the how and the why and the when. Asking me to bend and not remain frozen.

I speak my choice, "I submit to the removing", I pray out each offense, each wound, as He leads. And I choose to walk free.

~Bekah

My Song, Restored

How did I find my way to One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp? Truthfully I cannot quite piece together the journey. Perhaps it was a friend, a sister, a fellow daughter of the King that gave me direction. Perhaps it was the longing that led me to an online bookstore, where the keys I touched brought me to the place I needed to be. In truth, it was the Lover of my Soul drawing, beckoning, holding me near, inviting me to revel in His words, whispered time and time again, to the very depths of my heart.

Today I found a holy experience at my fingertips (www.aholyexperience.com). The words and pictures hold simplicity and joy, but the beauty that enraptured my soul was the music. I closed my eyes and surrendered. Being utterly filled, I allowed the heart of God to cradle places that were unknown even to myself. Places only He can embrace. As the notes trilled I reveled in His touch- the breath of God, here…surrounding me, teaching me to know Him and trust Him for who He longs to be in and through and for me.

It was not always this way. Over time, stress and struggle and loss stifled my song. Perhaps I allowed it, or perhaps I was simply engulfed,for life as I knew was coming to an end. I had not the strength to protect that which He formed in me when I was lovingly woven together. (Psalm 139) That is a story to be read elsewhere, but here and now I will say that slowly but surely my song was battered and scarred and torn, over time--and I resisted with all the strength I knew. Until that moment when it was shattered and ground into pieces. Suddenly the word forever seemed like a cage, a place of anguish, a haunted never rather than the hope of always. I wondered, would I ever sing again? I could not see beyond the pain, yet I held to hope. Or rather, He held me.

And now, years after diagnoses that I thought would destroy my world, I have found restoration. Hope. And yes, even joy. My song is returning- and the key to unlocking what has been closed off (and tightly guarded) is eucharisteo- life giving gratitude. A conscious effort to see beauty amidst storms.

Have you ever smelled the rain coming? That scent characterizes my life. The scent before the rain seems to be the presence of God; the rain itself, the cleansing that I so desire. The rainbows are the promise that He will be with me. Yet, the song is not just found in the rainbow. The song begins with the scent of rain, continues through the showers, through the deluge, even through the mist that that conceals the steps in front of me. The song is part of His sustenance. I want to learn to hear it when life sprinkles and when life pours. And no matter what is pouring in, I desire that what is poured out is my own aria of eucharisteo.

~Bekah

Looking Above the Clouds

This past weekend, my aunt and I were browsing through a girly store at a huge outdoor swap meet in Canton, Texas. The store was filled with lace and ruffles and hemlines and all things feminine. My aunt remarked, "My, how you have changed!" I smiled because I have changed. I've changed interests, styles, and even thought patterns. For instance, there was a time in my life when I was driven to live on my own and through my own means. I was my own woman and I made my own choices come good or bad or a lot of bad.

My independence was rooted both in positive and negative soil. My parents raised me to be independent. They wanted me to learn how to rely on God. They did not want me to be bound by the opinion of others, or culture, or even themselves. On the darker side, I found myself driven to be independent because if anything went wrong, it would solely be my fault. That philosophy may work as a single woman but as a married lady, I've learned that independence must be grafted with interdependence.

I married a man who I thought was perfect. I knew I was imperfect but my sweet and gentle and funny knight in shining white armor was my opposite, or at least I wanted him to be. Oh, how misguided we ladies can be. My husband has made his share of mistakes as have I, but we've learned to love one another still. But what happens when a couple graduates from weathering mere mistakes to bad news of a more serious nature?

This past week my husband surprised me as he came walking up the driveway just as I was about to drive off to school. He was carrying a box of stuff but the bad news didn't register until he said, "I was laid off." So now, we are officially a no-income family. My husband had known for awhile that a change was coming. He was one of thirty or forty others who lost their job that day. As it turned out this was the second year of major layoffs by his former employer.

To be quite honest, one of the reasons I fell in love with Shayne was because I knew he would take care of me both body and soul. I knew he was a man of honor, integrity, and faith. He's a natural protector and provider but what happens when he can't be? For months I've been rejecting the notion that our reality might change. In fact, for quite awhile I had bought into the notion that as a believer I would be exempt from financial strain or physical suffering and all of the other unpleasant aspects of life. I have begun to reject that mindset but now it seems that it is time to walk out this new mindset.

Freedom

I cannot believe yesterday was the day that marked the year 2009 was half over.  Today begins the second half thus putting us just three days from the holiday to mark the freedom and independence of our country, The Good Old USA.  On July 4, 1776, the Second Continental Congress unanimously adopted the Declaration of Independence thus declaring we were free.  Every person in this country walks in freedom but I must contend the vast majority walk bound with chains and locks rather than walking in total freedom.  You may ask why, we are a free country, you just said so, the constitution gives me freedom.

Last year I gave a speech in Toastmasters titled "Forgiveness."  Webster gives the definition as "the act of an instance of forgiving.  A few synonyms are: pardon, grace, absolution and amnesty.  When is the last time you definitely felt like an injustice was committed against you.  How does that make you feel?  When is the last time you offered the gift of forgiveness?

I want you to imagine you are listening to me give this speech and picture in your mind as I give my examples.  I borrowed some heavy chains to demonstrate my point.  I asked this tall stout man to come to the stage and assist me as I gave my speech.

The first example I gave was that John's father (not his real name) was never there for him.  He was totally emotionally absent from him, even abused him and always told him; he wasn't good enough and he would never amount to anything and would always be a failure.  John heard it so many times it became his belief system.  At some point in life he realized he was much better than his father had told him and he decided to walk into his destiny.  At this point he became very angry with his father and made a vow in his heart that he would never forgive his father.  His father was long dead thus this vow didn't hurt his father, it became a chain around John's neck.  At this point I put a chain around his neck and asked him to stoop just a little to indicate the heaviness of unforgiveness.

My second example was of a beautiful girl who had been done wrong by the justice system.  Wrongly convicted of false charges thus being sentenced to serve time in a federal prison.  At this time I placed another heavy chain around John's neck and asked him to stoop just a little lower.  I visited this person many times and I admonished her that at some point in her life she would have to forgive the perpetrators.  If she choses not to address this, the justice system couldn't care less and the burden lies with her.

Another example I used was my own.  There were many past hurts and wounds in my life.  As I talked about many of these, I placed another heavy chain around John's neck and asked him to stoop just a little lower.  At this point, he was almost in a 45 degree angle.  Can you imagine what it would be like to walk around for the rest of his life in a very stooped position. 

Well, I am here to tell you that is exactly the way many people are walking every day of their lives.  They don't know it and can't even begin to figure out what is wrong.  I am telling you unforgiveness is like a cancer gradually sucking the life from each individual.  I am currently in communication with a beautiful young lady and it is a process she is walking through, trying to forgive herself.  If we are not able to forgive, we are putting ourselves above God because he has already forgiven all of us. 

As I continued with my speech, John was able to forgive his father as he realized he was operating out of past wounds that were perpetrated by his father.  As John was able to offer forgiveness to his father, I took a chain from his neck and asked him to raise himself just a little, thus indicating the load was a little lighter.  The beautiful young lady who was wrongly convicted by the justice system was able to offer forgiveness and another chain was removed and John shoulders were just a little straighter.  I was able to offer forgiveness for the wounds of my past and the last chain was removed and John stood straight as an arrow. 

We will be celebrating the 4th of July in three days and I ask you how would it make you feel if you were able to celebrate your personal freedom?   The book that is depicted above "Ties That Bind" played a very integral part of my being able to offer forgiveness thus helping me walk in freedom.  I leave you with this rhetorical question, Is there someone whom you could offer the gift of forgiveness?  If you are able to do so, this will be the greatest gift you could ever give yourself.  Have a wonderful Independence (Freedom) Day.  Dance til your heart is filled with joy and walk in freedom as you fulfill your destiny.

 

1,092 Days Ago

Once upon a time, specifically 1,092 days ago, I was married to an utterly fantastic man named Shayne Edward Howe. Three years ago today, we stood under a grove of cedar trees alongside a body of water reciting our wedding prayer. We chose September 23, 2006 before knowing we were to be wed on Rosh Hashanah. Wait, can you here that? I am sure I just heard my friend Tricia take in a deep breath of awe. In fact, Rosh Hashanah is the first of the Jewish High Holidays,Yamin Noraim, the "Days of Awe." How fitting, because yet again I find myself in awe on this day.

What I am not in awe of is a fancy trip or gorging out on a fabulous dinner to celebrate this special day. Believe me, we've been there and done that. Don't get me wrong. Those times are great and necessary and worth the investment. That is, if you have the funds to invest. Following our honeymoon, we celebrated our next two anniversaries by going on brief although lavish getaways. After all, that's what we were supposed to do, right? Looking back, I am not too sure. Shayne has always been uncomfortable with the idea of debt. We Americans have no issue with spending as though we are millionaires. Forgive the soapbox, but we have become a nation of pretenders. As a newlywed, my greatest mistake was relying on every solicited and unsolicited opinion presented to me. That is every opinion other than my husbands. While he wanted to eliminate debt, I was being told we needed to splurge on getaways. Don't get me wrong, I wanted the getaways. I accept full responsibility to listening to the opinions that supported my arguments. Nevertheless, I am entering a maturer season in my life as I realize that the most important way to celebrate our wedded life is by cherishing my husband more than anything save God Himself. More than anyone's opinion of what we should or shouldn't do. More than a night at a posh bed and breakfast, I desire to honor and respect my husband, more than anything.

Two hundred and forty-eight days into our marriage I wasn't so sure about that. So unsure, I counted the days. That's a picture of a pretty unhappy bride. I don't need to crack open that journal to remember that dark night. I was, for the first time, honest about the motives of my heart. How do we fall in love only to fall right back out of it? On that dark night, I wasn't focusing on our wedding day. I wasn't remembering how I lacked poise as I nearly ran down the aisle with my father in tow. I only had eyes for Shayne. On that dark night, the worries, fears and suspicions from solicited and unsolicited opinions began to seep into the cracks of our foundation. Interestingly, according to Jewish literature Rosh Hashanah is also known as "the day of remembrance." Remembering is a word that I have come to be dearly fond of. What we remember is oftentimes a choice we make.

We did and still do have many issues to tackle. I can't say that we were ready for the weight of marriage at that specific time. However, I can't say that we weren't supposed to get married on September 23, 2006. It is a mystery as every good story contains. It is safe to say, we might have been better prepared on that day. Two halves don't make a whole to be sure. Although, there is much to be said for walking alongside one another though past, present and future troubles and sorrows. Our pastor aptly summed us up during the ceremony: "It's going to be an awesome ride. If I know anything about you two, it's going to be a ride. A fast ride, a quick ride, sometimes an up and down ride, but a great, great ride."

Late last night, I crawled under the covers of Shayne's side of the bed. Close to the midnight hour, in the slightest of whispers, words of repentance spontaneously emerged from my heart. Oh my husband, I am so sorry for not listening to you above all others. Forgive me for not respecting your insight. Forgive me of my impatience. Forgive me for not trusting you. Trust, as we all know, is one of the foundational ingredients of all relationships. Why do we withhold trust when we desire it so?

According to tradition, Rosh Hashanah also commemorates the beginning of creation. Rosh Hashanah does not fall on September 23rd this year. However, I will always celebrate this day as the one when I began anew. The relationship between a husband and a wife is symbolic of the relationship between Jesus and His bride, the church. I have to say, though our ups and downs, I have come to personally appreciate terms like "repentance" and "forgiveness" that are sermonized about on Sundays. I share this anniversary story in hopes that you too will realize the effect a repentant heart has. My husband did not turn away from me in disgust of my offenses. Neither does Jesus turn away from His bride. In fact, my husband's desire was intensified by my honest heart. There are some of you that merely hear the word "church" only to feel grief or contempt. She has tarnished her reputation seemingly beyond repair. Yet, I know she was and is redeemable, as I have been. She can be renewed. Perhaps you are a member of the church. I challenge you to invest in a "day of remembrance." Are you full of passion for the One who loves you most? Are you resting in His grace or are you too busy doing what everyone says you need to do? Perhaps you are a married woman. I dare you to reflect on the "Days of Awe" in which you were passionately infatuated with the wonder of your man. Perhaps you have never experienced a relationship with the One who was first in love with you. Can you imagine that? I invite you to let Him carry you in His arms. I promise He will never let you fall. Never. And incidentally, with Him, you will enjoy a "happily ever after" but it will never be "the end."