Ladies By Design

The Nourished Life

In my life, there always seems to be someone who needs something. And with all the medical issues I deal with, sometimes I feel as if I carry everything alone. Self-care is necessary for survival, as is making a habit of refueling body and soul. Sometimes this means time out with friends to relax and unwind, and sometimes it requires making arrangements to have times of quiet. Rest is mandatory. Nourishment, essential. We take better care of those we love when we take care of ourselves, too.

 

I have to cultivate the habit of stepping away to see that my needs are met. It may seem daunting, but it's necessary. Sometimes I feel isolated, or believe there are no resources. But the truth is there is a way to self care- if I am willing to commit to it, to work towards it. Wellness takes work. It takes planning ahead- and sometimes, a willingness to step into the unknown. To put my needs out there and ask for help. It's risky, and sometimes I don’t want to ask. But the benefits are worth the risk. 

 

Sometimes it's an issue of “want to”. What keeps me from drawing aside, what do I gain from over-working? Does it help me forget? Does it make me feel better about everything that seems wrong in my life?

 

Everything I commit to fills a need in me. The need to be a good wife and mother. The need to feel valued, like my work matters. Do I deny my needs because I have to be a martyr to feel acceptable? Do I believe that I do not have the right to take care of me, too?

 

It’s time to give permission to have needs. To take care of me- in a healthy way. Chocolate cake may taste good for a moment, but it won’t heal the gash in my soul, nor will it placate the troubles in my heart.

 

Exercise, movement, is healing. I walk and pour out, and sometimes I want to run. I don’t do it well (or for very long), but I need the physical reminder of what I am carrying emotionally. I run, a block, maybe two, and at the bottom of the hill my chest heaves and I sputter and breathe jagged breaths and it feels like my life. I have to train for the long haul and I have to rest before I am spent. 

 

Jesus did said to serve others, just as He did. And He served with His whole heart- but he also set the example of drawing apart regularly and seeking rest. If we want be like Jesus, we have to balance pouring out and finding rest.

 

Isaiah 55:2 says:

Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare.

The Message puts it this way: “Pay attention, come close now, listen carefully to my life-giving, life-nourishing words. I’m making a lasting covenant with you, the same that I made with David: sure, solid, enduring love.”

 

We have to make time to let God’s love wash over us, healing, restoring, giving rest in spirit, soul, and body. Don’t take this for granted. We need fuel not filler. We need to pursue that which nourishes, that which truly fills. We can chase after what leaves us empty, running on fumes- or we can plan time to rest and recover. Self control is not only self denial.  Self control is seeking that which gives lasting nourishment- in spirit, soul and body. It’s making time to find daily abundance in the heart of God.

 

 

The Goal Set Before Us

 When life presses down on me until I feel my heart buckle, I've learned to get outside and walk. Behind our neighborhood is an undeveloped area, and I love to position myself where I have a clear view of the trees and the hills beyond. I walk quickly, reciting Psalm 121:

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
² My help comes from the Lord,
    the Maker of heaven and earth.

Sometimes I speak the refrain over and over, until I can truly take a deep, lingering breath.

The many responsibilities I carry and the frailties of my gaping humanness can convince me to see life as a mountain I must climb, with towering obstacles to overcome along the way. The challenges are daunting, discouraging, and heartbreaking. And my mindset has been this: once I've reached the top, I will have figured out how to "get it right". But the goal is NOT reaching the top of the mountain- for that will happen when I see Jesus face to face. If I re-frame my thinking to embrace climbing the mountain in moment by moment closeness with God- taking the journey in and through him, then I will understand the true purpose of the mountain I call life; to know Him, to let Him draw me deeper still. Part of the journey is learning when to walk with him, and when to let him carry me, for there are steep inclines which this mortal frame was never meant to struggle upon. The key is to let Him do the work, for there are some places that are for His hands and feet only. Aloneness is a choice, and when I choose instead to rest in him completely, rather than holding him at arm's length-- it's in those times when I experience the gift of his presence, his arms gathering me up, sustaining me, giving me rest, healing the wounds in my heart, preparing me for the continuation of the journey. The mountain top is not the goal. Rather, I fix my eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of my faith- whose joy is day to day relationship with me. He is the goal, his presence the greatest summit of all.   

Held

It has been a difficult season. In the past weeks and months, I've felt the need to draw aside and refill, often. The harshness of holding onto life wears on me. I feel the urge to seek out that soothing Voice which hammers out what tears at my soul. I love that he dances over me, yet most often, I need to be held, to seek out quiet moments, to allow the silence to be filled with reassurance and rest. 

Today I began reading in Zephaniah chapter three. Zephaniah often spoke of catastrophe and destruction, of judgement for a rebellious people. Yet, when I read carefully, I find the book is not as depressing as it might, at first, appear.  Chapter three speaks of punishment for oppressors, and their removal from places of power. Nestled within these pages is a declaration of the Lord's great love for his daughters.  

Zephaniah 3:17 declares, 

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save.

He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love,

He will rejoice over you with singing. 

I love this image of the all powerful Lord God wrapping me in his arms and quieting me with his love. Anyone who's perused my personal blog knows that since November, my family has been walking through the metaphorical fire, medically. As a new year dawned, my oldest son, who has type one diabetes, had two separate life threatening experiences within a few weeks of each other, and only a few weeks ago my husband ended up in the ICU after routine surgery due to a bad reaction to morphine.It is not, by any stretch of the imagination, normal to see a loved one laying on a hospital bed turning gray, as medical personnel surround, trying to sustain life. Nor is it normal for people in scrubs to be running down halls calling out that a precious life is in danger. It tears at my heart just to speak it. No matter how many times this happens it never becomes normal. But what I am grasping despite all of this is that regardless of my circumstances, God has already seen to my needs.

When there is stress, or fear, or grief- and I've know each repeatedly this year- God provides in a myriad of ways. One of which is through the biological design of our bodies. Most notably, our tear ducts, designed as a conduit of release. Surviving trauma of any sort requires the release that comes through the cleansing, salty, stress releasing gift of our tears. When we don't cry, our bodies suffer. In his great love for us, God has provided a way for us to pour out our burdens emotionally and physically. We don't have to hold it in. He designed us to have a way of natural release. No detoxifying spa methods needed. He's already given us what we need, through gifts he created in us from the beginning.

When my son lay in the hospital as "diabetic  emergency" was being shouted through the halls, I leaned over him, fighting back the tears, assuring him that "Mommy is here", taking that comforting stance because he was awake and afraid. When my husband was unable to stay awake, and having difficulty breathing, I was forced out of the tiny hospital room so that medical equipment could be moved in. I was, for the moment, no longer in the role of caregiver. I took a break to relieve myself, and found that instead what came was the relief of tears. 

I sobbed. I wept, I cried out. Release overtook me, and for a few minutes, I simply surrendered to the tears. And then, as suddenly as the flood surged, it ceased. I stood, speaking out loud, words unplanned springing forth, "God, here I am- use me." And the healer of my soul stepped in, equipping me. I returned to the room, and with the removal of the x ray machine, I was able to enter in again. This time, surrounded by the strength of the Lord, filled with his wisdom, and ready to do battle. For the first time in my natural life, I was able to pray over my loved one fighting for life, rather than be consumed by fear and grief. I was able to stay emotionally present in the moment, rather than simply survive.

I placed my hands on my husband and prayed as I'd never prayed before in such a moment- calling down God's healing hands, asking for restoration of breath and life. I spoke the words given to me in the moment- that God is not finished yet, that my husband's time here on this earth is not yet complete. I prayed until the words no longer came, and then, I rested, in quiet peace, knowing I'd prayed in partnership with the Spirit, not grasping my own way. The life struggle continued, and I was held.  Like the daughters of zion, I knew what it was to be quieted by his love. And I am convinced that the conduit which connected me to his strength was my tears.  As the tears removed the toxins in my body (built up through stress), both my body and my spirit found release. I was bouyed up emotionally as I cried out and connected to the One who holds me through the madness. 

In times of stress, fear, and even loss, we have a choice. As daughters of the King we have the privelege to seek out his comfort, his help. When we are hurting we can hold him at a distance and try to survive. Or we can seek the sweet release that comes from a good cry on his shoulders. When I reach out to him, he gathers me in, holding me close. As I cry out, he listens, he sooths, and I find that he is my strength. He is indeed Mighty to Save.  

~Bekah

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

A Cord of Three Strands

The first year is always the most difficult. With any diagnosis, learning a new lifestyle is challenging. There is no normal. Perhaps there never was. I listen to the rain falling outside my window and I wonder at the instruments chosen to teach me a new song. Diabetes, PTSD, Celiac Disease, and Sensory Processing Disorder. A cord of three strands is not easily broken, but a cord of four may break me. It has, in a thousand heart rending, soul restoring ways. The first two were traumatic, the third educational. The last taught me to reframe life as I know it.

That moment, when the word came, all I felt was relief. Surging, trembling relief. This is the why. So many unanswered wonderings, suddenly step into line. My life frame shifts off sinking sand, and I find my Rock ever there. Always. No matter what. The journey through grief is cyclical. It must be for life ever changes the shape of the journey ahead. The path to the altar is well worn.The breath of release pours out. I held my breath for so long, and find I must practice finding breath again. I inhale deeply, in, and slowly out.

And now begins a season of stretching and learning. Expanding my knowledge base, learning how to care better for the ones I love. To fit together each strand in a way that makes sense for me. Again, and again. Often I miss the mark, and look back, with clearer focus than I had in the moment. Some days I cope, others I soar. I've learned to take care of my needs, too, so I can take better care of those I love. I used to be the one that many came to for support. Now I need to draw back and receive. And the Lover of my soul gives abundance, pouring cleansing rain through me. Each day offers a new beginning, a chance to be infused with life and choose well. I choose. I choose to be Wife and Mommy to a passel of specially wrapped gifts. And to refine my own identity along the way. I am more than what I do.

The rain has stopped, the world washed with healing. I too can be whole, if I choose to partake. Will I resist the cleansing? Or step forward, again and again- though unknowns lay before me. If I stay I will stagnate. I can see the step ahead, and I choose to trust in the One who restores, who holds me through the darkness and lights the way. A candle in the darkness, ready to be lit- to move the blaze with each step, illumininate - if I choose to grow. To respond to the invitation and step out, giving thanks for the glow, and the hope held beyond.

~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

Prodigal Ladies

It's funny how the road curves and bends along this journey called life. Last night I found myself sitting on the floor between my husband and my brother at a worship concert. The band was taking a break and a young man had taken the stage to share the story about a song he had written. He was a great looking guy and one that any girl would have been proud to stand by. Of course, he hadn't always looked that way. He was every inch the prodigal son. Something he said while describing the dungeon of a life he lived caused me to remember what my life was once like. 

Remembered moments used to catapult me into places of deep grief. I am happy to say that these days I remember those days without the pain. It is truly a miracle to be able to look back at the girl I was and the things I said and did—without shame, blame, or guilt. I was broken as so many of us gals have been and still are.

Flawed and imperfect we are. Yet, lovely and full of life we are. In my darkest times my aunt would say "As long as you are breathing there is still hope." Yes, hope. The thing is, if you are like me, you may have a tendency to alienate yourself from the very people you need in hopeless times. Alone, I would be taunted again and again by dark voices saying "You are hopeless" and I believed it.

The turning point for me came at my breaking point. I could not fall any further. I bankrupted myself in every imaginable way. And then came freedom when I surrendered. I finally understood that I could never ever put all of my pieces back together. I could never fix all that had gone wrong. But that wasn't the end of the story.

Love found me and loved me just where I was. Love loved me just as I was. Over time, and through the love of a few loving ones I learned that Love was, Love Is, and Love is to come. I've come a long way along this journey. Last night, I couldn't help but look over at my brother and smile in awe because he too has learned that Love was, Love Is, and Love is to come. We used to hate one another now we have both been changed by Love.

Later in the evening I was compelled to search for a long lost friend of mine. As you can see in the picture above we were two goofy gals who loved each other very much. We also hurt each other very much. Such is the nature of our human hearts in the absence of true Love. Over the years I've tried finding her to no avail until last night—a very special night—I finally found her. I was hesitant because I knew she would remember the girl I was. I was afraid because she had good reason to reject the girl I was. Despite my fears in hope I reached out.

You see, living in hiding is no way to live. To be sure, there are "friends" that we need to release. If a person is hurtful to you or toxic to be around, it is okay to say goodbye. That being said, if you find yourself hiding from your past, I encourage you to find a safe place, a safe gathering, a safe friend that cares about you and will help you to be revealed to the world once again as the beautiful person you are. Every so often I would worry about what someone would say if they found me. Would they ridicule the lady I have become? Would their memories disqualify me from the life I now have? If you wonder the same thing, let me assure you that Someone greater will defend your honor and be the champion of your heart. I could have been rejected by my friend but I wasn't. She loved me then and loves me now because we are both flawed and imperfect and yet lovely and full of life. We are—all of us—prodigal ladies and loved.

 

A Mother: Betty Clouse

The "Road of Life" has led me in many different directions with varying destinations.  Who would have ever imagined I would end up "at my age" in the Dallas, Texas area.  I chose to leave Texas many years ago headed for adventure in the great "Golden State" of California.  I remember writing a paper in an English class about what California had done for me.  I specifically said that California had been an "education" for me.  Living in California certainly was an education in many ways.  I was forced to be in an environment far from home and I was stretched in every possible way.  

California taught me the value of becoming a different person.  Now granted, some of us are very slow learners.  I would hope it never takes anyone who may read this as long as it took me to learn the lessons of life.  I learned that there was a huge world beyond the world surrounding the "Little Country Girl" from Bay City, Texas.  I learned there was a place where people didn't judge by their color and you were accepted for who you were.  At least it appeared to be such.  My mind was opened and the world was mine.  I just didn't have the ability to reach for the stars.  I didn't have the "tools of the trade."  God was continually working on me. 

I have struggled and continue to struggle with my plot in life of being where I am at the age I am.  I am always reminded of the scripture in Joel 2:25 "Then He will make up to me for the years that theswarming locust has eaten, The creeping locust, the stripping locust, and the gnawing locust....And I shall have plenty to eat and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord my God, who has dealt wondrously with me; Then I will never be put to shame.  Thus I will know that You are The Lord my God and there is no other."  I have inserted the first person to make it personal to me.  This scripture is totally about restoration and God is continually restoring me.

The title that has been captioned above my picture "The Mother", seems totally inappropriate as I have never given birth to a biological child.  But, just a little over two years ago as I was feeling so totally devastated after a Wednesday night Bible study  on "The Root of Bitterness", I was made aware I needed to forgive God for not giving me the opportunity to birth a child in the natural.  As a very good friend of mine led me into a time of inner-healing, my FATHER spoke to me and told me he had reserved me to be a "mother to many."  What did that mean?   You may ask how?  At the time I wasn't sure I could "Find the Value" in those words.

Now looking back over the last four years of my life, in many ways I have become!  I find it very interesting how just about everyone in my church  and even as far away as Zimbabwe calls me Aunt Betty. Just recently I had a newcomer to our congregation tell me "I am going to call you Aunt Betty" and another one "You are my only Aunt Betty."  I have one very dear man who calls me "Mama Betty." A couple of years ago as I was abou to leave Zimbabwe, several young girls told me "you have grandchildren in Africa."  How awesome is that?  As I reach out to my world here in my geographical area to be a mentor, aunt or mom, and me being a part of  "Ladies by Design", I do pray you will feel my love and prayers reaching your heart as you read our ministry to quite literally the world.  My prayer has been for years, "God I want to make a difference." I choose to believe I will be making a difference in your life as God moves my pen with inspiration as I write from my heart.  Stay tuned there are VOLUMES to come.

 

Jo Ann: The Warrior

The second of five kids, I was always described by my mom as a “doer” or “fixer”. Through the years, I have somehow fallen into the role of the “go to” person. I can read a book about something cool and interesting all too often destined to become the expert on the subject. I find it a bit comical at times, except the older I have gotten, I have come to accept “doing” as a divine assignment.

 

As far as I can remember, I was always doing something, making something, creating something, or in charge of something. I spent a lot of my time coming up with ideas that would entertain or please someone else. Funny thing is: I am still doing that. As a kid, I was always looking for opportunities to change the environment around me, a dreamer, per se. I would gather my siblings to play school. Of course, I always had to play the role of the teacher and the principle. Why they played along, I will never know, but they always seemed to follow my lead. At family events, I would create a quick skit and cast my siblings, cousins, or friends. It didn’t matter who happened to be around, I would immediately recruit them, assign parts and direct the scenes. 

 

Throughout the years, not much has changed. I am still orchestrating and directing the lives of those around me. Still, I have come to see myself more as a “protector”. Life has taught me some important lessons and I am often protectively compelled to do something about the problems of those around me. However, my strength often turns into a weakness. Focusing on solutions for others distracts me from finding solutions for myself. When I run out of problems to fix, I find things to do. I have delved into the academic arena and I have completed some incredible goals. As an entrepreneur, doors have opened, and in spite of bad decisions or wrong turns, grace has kept my business afloat. By the world’s standards, I am a successful person. In my lifetime, I have achieved things I have set out to do. On the other hand, the accomplishments I have achieved were things I wanted to accomplish. In the end, what value or weight will my self-willed accomplishments hold if I am not living out my purpose, if I never reach my destiny?

 

I do believe that I am called to be a “warrior.” Oddly enough, another label given to me by those who know me best, my family is that of the “peacemaker.”  This role is accurate, but only when it is necessary.  I do not like conflict and I would much rather work things out and get along.  However, I have recently come to understand that when it comes to the spiritual side of things, I am a warrior.  At times, warriors must face conflict. At times without even thinking, I have found myself in the trenches fighting for those I love. I enjoy fighting for those who seem to have no strength of their own to posses gifts that have lain dormant, been rejected or abused.

 

You may be wondering, what truly defines a warrior? I would have to say that the definition can be a subjective one. It depends on who you are asking. For me, a warrior is one who is fearless and able to conquer foes and possess territory, someone like Achilles in the movie, Troy.  If you haven’t watched it, you must, if for no other reason than to watch this warrior defeat his enemies so effortlessly. To war is not necessarily a way of life, there are seasons when we must engage in warfare, but a warrior is always prepared.  Even in times when a warrior is not actively engaged in the heat of the battle, he or she is always training, always alert, and always ready.  In most cases, a warrior is not easily distracted. He or she has mastered the discipline it takes to be on task, even when off task.  Ironically, I have often described myself as a fearful person.  How then, can I just naturally pick up a sword and go to battle?  It’s really very simple. I was born with gifts formed in my momma’s womb.  You see, before we breathed our first breath, God was equipping us with all the tools we would need to walk out our purpose. In other words, all the potential I ever needed has always been within me.

 

Just being a mother, puts me in a battlefield, after all, mommies are warriors. Just try to hurt one of our little ones and watch what manifests. Even the most timid mommy is prepared for war when it comes to protecting her own. As a mother and a grandmother, my desire is to instill the belief that all the potential they will ever need is already in them. That alone is a battle in itself with all the other voices our children are exposed to. I am aware that I cannot live their lives for them, but I can love them and encourage them to be who they were created to be. To love is war! I can encourage each one with affirmations and ensure that I make time for them. I can give them room to fall and make mistakes and be there when they need to be held.  I can teach them to take risks and face their fears.  I can teach them how to war for themselves. As I love them, I can pass down life's lessons and teach them through my victories and my mistakes. 

 

Moving forward, how can I continue to prepare for the role that I was born to play?  Am I the author of my life’s script? Whose voice will direct my every move? Will I stop running from what I fear? Will I reveal my whole heart through my writings? Will I stop hiding from what God has called me to do?  All these questions bring with them a theatrical feeling when in reality, it is very simple.  In Psalm 18:34 we are reminded that:  “He teaches my hands to make war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze." Is there a warrior within your heart? I challenge you to join me on this mission. We will take our cues from the greatest lives ever lived, including our own. Will you pursue the heart of one you love? Will you believe you are loved? Will you let go of foolish exploits and die to selfish wants? Will you lay down your achievements and learn to have a teachable spirit? Will you open your vulnerable heart to a creator that longs simply to love you? I am taking the part. Come, let us prepare for what is to be a great adventure.