Posted in healing, heartache, Letters, Life Lessons, Love, Poetry, Truth, waiting, Writing

Tear-stained Wisdom

You never really knew me until you sat across from me at coffee on a cloudy day and watched the rain fall from my eyes.

You never really understood me until you let me get past the catch in my throat that’s always there when I sit across from you.

It’s as I listen to your heart through your words that I can make sense of my own feelings, which is why I always pause and let silence stand between us for a long moment before I speak.

It’s when I make sense of my own feelings that I can process yours. Then I can give you the tear-stained wisdom that is chiseled in my soul.

I never really knew you until I sat across from you and realized that we can both as freely give as receive wisdom and love.

And I’d like to know you more.

And I’d like for you to know me more.

But texts don’t form tears, or capture the pitch when you really laugh out loud, or give a full picture of what’s inside a heart.

But it’s all we can do now.

And it’s going to be really hard to give my whole heart again to anyone else when it’s broken but still yours. But it’s going to be hard for anyone else to break my heart when it isn’t really whole because it’s still yours.

I can only let time and silence and steadfast prayer heal me.

Posted in healing, heartache, Life Lessons, Love, Uncategorized

Do You Want to Get Well?

When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, “Do you want to get well?”

John 5:6 NIV

As I type on my dimly lit phone, I’m at the emergency room with my 11-year-old son. It’s almost midnight and we’ve been here for a few hours. Around 8:30 pm he came into my bedroom and said, “Mom, will you take me to the doctor? My head hurts too bad.” At 9 pm the urgent care center sent us to the ER to be tested for meningitis. (Thank God he doesn’t have that.) He also tested negative for strep, flu, and mono, but his white blood count is elevated.

But when we got back into a room at the ER, and they were about to start an IV, he absolutely panicked. Suddenly fear took over and he began to shake and hold his arm against his chest so the nurse couldn’t get the IV in. He sat up in the bed, buried his face in my chest, and sobbed.

I reasoned with him. Reminded him he’d had an IV years ago when he broke his arm and he was fine. Nothing I said made it any better.

Sometimes our minds are our worst enemies.

Finally I put my hand under his chin, tipped his face up to look at me, and said, “Son, do you want to get well?”

“Yes. My head hurts so bad. Please make it stop.” He sobbed. “This will make it stop?” I nodded.

Then he relaxed and allowed the nurse to give him an IV. In the end he said it wasn’t so bad.

An hour later, with headache meds coursing through his veins and his quiet snoring filling the room, it hit me – today I panicked just like this over something else.

I had been afraid of losing both someone and the dream of something and it caused me to sob and hold my heart in my chest where it couldn’t be touched and lash out at whomever said that letting go was the best thing for me. The fear of abandonment and loneliness and being unloved forever washed over me. I feared feeling unworthy and unlovable and useless and embarrassed and rejected and unwanted. The fear to me was just as real as the needle was to Gavin. Letting myself feel the sting of letting go that would ultimately heal me was just too scary in the moment.

It reminded me of when Jesus healed a man in the Bible, but first he asked the man, “Do you want to get well?”

Of course I want to get well. But just like my son, I have to get past the fear of the pain that will ultimately allow healing to flow through me.

Posted in Life Lessons

From the Inside, Out

Yesterday I did a rare and dangerous thing: I turned on the oven. My girls were both home from college and work and I was baking some of those flaky butter-tasting biscuits I had no business baking. You know – the ones from the refrigerated section by the rolls of iced cinnamon rolls and sugar cookie rolls that I pretend aren’t there in the store?! Those!

I kept checking on the biscuits and they were getting rather done on the outside, but the insides were as raw as if I’d just put them in there. So my 22-year-old, who is an amazing chef/baker, says:

“Uhm…Mom, you have to push the Bake button.”

“I DID push the Bake button.”

“No you didn’t. You pushed Convection Bake. See the difference? Convection Bake heats up the air around the biscuits and they get done on the outside, but stay raw in the middle. The other Bake cooks them evenly from the inside out.”

I changed the Bake setting and finished cooking some amazingly buttery, flaky biscuits. Silly Mom. Baking is for kids.

I have started seeing a new counselor lately. It’s hard to find someone who really understands you, ya know? She really gets me.

So yesterday afternoon we’re mid-counseling-session, going over some issue or another and she says something about how we spend a lot of time protecting ourselves from the outside – looking good, smiling, having the right cars and clothes and “toys,” – but we are raw and hurting on the inside.

We also discussed how people get so angry and bark, bark, bark at others for this or that or the other so that they look rugged and tough on the outside, all the while they are completely raw and hurting (and probably angry with something they’ve done themselves) on the inside.

I paused, then smiled.

“Like the biscuits.” I said out loud before I could stop myself. Then I told her the story.

I realized I am going to need to change my environment and slow down so that I am not “done” on the outside, yet raw on the inside.

After all, who wants a half-baked anything?

Posted in Life Lessons

6 Lies I Demolished on My 40 Day Journey

1. I need to be married again to be happy again. Nope. I am happy because I have life and purpose. I want to be married again someday, yes!, but if not, I have my Jesus, my kids, my books, my writing, my friends, my church, and my family that all add immeasurable joy to my life.

2. To get love I have to seek it out. False. To be loved I only have to be me. I am made in God’s image and am lovely, lovable, and loving by design. Ever tried to chase a butterfly in a field or a dog who’d escaped out the garage when you weren’t looking? I’ve learned it’s best to be still (for the butterfly) or go back inside with the back door ajar (for the dog) and they will come to me.

3. Men don’t stay. Well, some men haven’t stayed. It’s true. But my precious dad who loves me enough to adopt me stayed. My brother stayed. Some long time friends have stayed. Two things happened on this journey to drive this point home. 1. I got a call from a guy friend that my heart was afraid I’d never hear from again. When he called it was a brotherly “let’s pray together” kind of moment that I wasn’t expecting nor did I feel like I was worthy of. When this call happened I realized this was a deep lie I’d swallowed whole. When we got off the phone I recognized it as such, thanked God for revealing the truth, and have never felt unworthy day since. 2. Another guy called whom I hadn’t talked with in a while and apologized for hurting me and repented and asked forgiveness. We left the call as friends. Not every man leaves. I am learning.

4. I only find men who are emotionally unavailable. (Well, now this is true, but the reason why is because I was believing a lie.) I learned in the last 40 days that in my twisted thinking if I could get the attention of a man who was emotionally unavailable and love him well enough to make him stay, it would redeem the moment my bio-dad left and the moment my ex-husband left. In so doing I set men up to fail. Though they weren’t emotionally available (either separated aka: still married, long-distance, or just getting over an ex), I would get them to care, get them to a point that I was attached, ask them to commit (something I already knew wasn’t possible either now or ever, but wouldn’t let myself believe), then get crushed when they “broke my heart.” What a crock! I was breaking my own heart. I knew! I just didn’t want to believe it. From here on out, living in this cycle has changed. I do not chase men. I will not date anyone who is separated, long-distance, or who is emotionally unavailable. In fact, I’m okay with never dating again unless God holds up a sign pointing him out. (Whoo…the vulnerability I’m showing right now…)

5. All people are friends and I should be an open book. No! Just NO. I had a crash course in this just a week or so ago. I was open with someone about a situation I’ve been walking through, but didn’t realize I was being used to get access to a friend they wanted to be close to until it was too late. My being too open opened a door to hurt for myself, for my good friend they wanted access to, and for this “trusted” person whom I unknowingly enabled to continue her cycle of whatever it is that makes her feel good. Now I pass everyone through a “level of intimacy scale” that my counselor showed me and I don’t trust so easily anymore. Life feels safer.

6. I will always be chosen last, if at all. My Bible reading shows me in Jeremiah 1, Psalm 139, and Ephesians 1 that I am chosen, created for a purpose, and adopted by God himself. If that weren’t clear enough, I was chosen, given a purpose, and adopted in real life just so God could drive this point home to me.

So there are some of the deep-seated lies I believed. Most of these I had no idea I was living in til I slowed down and began asking God why I’m hurting so badly and how I can stop hurting and really start living again.

I realize some of my posts may seem too vulnerable or even make you feel you’re intruding on my life. Believe me, as deep as all this is, my heart is about 70 levels deeper and this is just the surface. I don’t show many people the true depths of my heart.

I was called to be vulnerable and to write from a vulnerable place and will continue to do so until God directs me otherwise.

Posted in healing, Life Lessons, Love, Truth, waiting, Word, Writing

Girl, Lift Your Face

My mind wandered this morning to John 4 and the woman Jesus spoke with at the well. I’m often reminded of her when I look in the mirror in the mornings. Why had she come to this well to draw water alone? That was an activity the women usually did together. For safety. For social interaction.

I’ll guess why she was there alone. She felt shame. She was hiding.

Hiding from other women. From society. From her soiled reputation.

Guilt will always point out what I’ve done (which is healthy), but shame sneaks in and replaces my own name.

Hello, my name is (fill-in-the-blank).

  • Adulteress
  • Fat girl
  • Single Mom
  • Divorced
  • Lonely
  • Heart-broken
  • Insecure
  • Flawed
  • Unwanted
  • Ugly
  • Annoying
  • Unworthy
  • Useless
  • Stupid
  • Unlovable

Has shame ever replaced your name with something else?

It has replaced every one of the above names for my name at times throughout my life.

So there she was – sneaking away to get water, and that’s when she met Jesus – the man who would change the course of her life.
Jesus was sitting there alone, waiting on his disciples to get back from town with food. He asked her to draw him some water and you can almost hear her audible gasp.

“Who, me? I’m (fill-in-the-blank).” (Paraphrasing here.)

She actually said:
“You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.)
Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”
Sir,” the woman said, “you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water?”
Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.
The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.”

He told her, “Go, call your husband and come back.”

Let’s stop a sec.

How many times over the past 16 years have I been asked to go get my husband? By a salesman? By a snarky married woman who knows I don’t have one? By a mean girl? I know what this feels like.
And the answer stammers it’s way out of my trembling mouth. My eyes glance down, or away.
I, I… have no husband. He left me for someone else he got pregnant.

Then Jesus spoke a truth that walked right through the solid, heretofore impenetrable walls around her heart:
“You are right when you say you have no husband. The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband.”

Ouch. Yep. There it is.
But let’s be real. I’ve often wondered if there was a more shameful truth exposed here.

Can I just be honest? Every time I read this story I put myself in her place, but I imagine Jesus’ answer to me would be more like, “You’re right – since your husband left you’ve had 2 other women’s husbands and 2 boyfriends you let act like a husband.”

The fact that Jesus knows everything and chooses to forgive anyway and offer a second chance at life always astounds me. He did this same thing for me when I was in a similar place as that woman.

Forgiveness heals.

I want to address something else shame has done to me over the years. Because I was sexually assaulted, shame has said I’m damaged – permanently.

I hope you’ve never endured a sexual assault of any kind, but something tells me someone reading right now either has or knows someone who has.

It was not your fault. It wasn’t.

Shame likes to whisper that it was. Shame likes to whisper that if I just wouldn’t have opened the door it wouldn’t have happened.

That’s a lie.

Girl, lift your face.

Enter Jesus who replaced my name with who he says I am.

My name is:

  • Chosen
  • Redeemed
  • Righteousness
  • Beautiful
  • Daughter
  • Lovely
  • Loved
  • Lovable
  • Pure

The Samaritan woman in this story had looked for love all her life, but was handed counterfeited love. I’m not sure what happened. Like me, did her husband leave unexpectedly and take her hope and strength and dignity with him?
Jesus gave me back my hope and strength and dignity. And he wants to do the same for you.

I had to stop going back to the places I thought would give me the love I want so badly. It just made me thirsty for more so I just kept going back.

But I was never satisfied, because that was not love.

My Jesus met me where I was – even though I was trying to hide my shame from everyone. He gave me all the love I’ll ever want.

Trust me. I know what you might be saying. “But I want a husband’s arms to hold me and love me.”

I’ve cried myself to sleep more nights than I care to admit because I want that kind of love, have it to give, yet have no one to share it with.
Oh darling, I know.
But each morning I choose to meet Jesus and allow His love to restore my hope, strength, and dignity. THAT is why I walk in joy and peace.
Do I want a husband?
Yes, I absolutely do.
Oh, but not if it costs me even one precious drop of the love Jesus gives. I’m not giving that up. No way.

Drink up, sister. Drink deeply of His love. Nothing else will ever satisfy.

Hello, my name is: Melissa, Loved, Beautiful, Hand-crafted, Adored, Poetess, Daughter of God.

Posted in healing, Life Lessons, Love

They lied to us.

It’s taken 2 and a half long, excruciating weeks to unfilter you.

There wasn’t just one, but two:

The filter you wanted me to see you through –

And the filter I chose to look at you through.

Or maybe four – because did I ever show you the real me?

I did.

And so did you.

There were moments I caught a glimpse of reality when I looked in your direction.

We really saw each other.

A beautiful exposure.

Candid.

Unfiltered.

Me.

You.

And it kept my gaze in your direction like a lost first-mate scanning the horizon for a shoreline.

But it quickly vanished.

It’s never real.

Because we protect our hearts with smoke and mirrors.

We’ve all been too-powerfully hurt: those of us who have loved and lost.

Someone said it’s better to have…

They lied to us.

It’s horrible to have loved and lost.

But I’ve decided love is a mirage.

We’re all parched –

Heavy, sand-filled feet habitually strike the ground –

One-after-one until we presumably

Get somewhere.

But I’m tired. And I’m thirsty.

And I refuse to follow my own heart any longer.

And I refuse to follow advice-columns, talk-show trends, suggestive cinematic smatterings of hope.

This is why my heart is sick.

So I’ve decided to settle in where I belong instead of searching the horizon for what I “deserve,” what is “meant to be,” for what must be my “destiny.”

Destiny is here.

Truth lives in my heart.

It takes a true warrior to fight what tries to strangle her within.

I belong in my skin.

In this generation.

For the purpose of smiling, laughing, living, expressing joy.

It’s not what I don’t have that gives me purpose and hope.

Nor what I do.

It is who I am and, more to the point, it is exactly who I exist for:

I AM.

I won’t perfectly live out this truth, unfiltered.

I won’t promise I’ll never wish for this hole inside of me to go away or be filled.

But it’s truth that sets me free.

So I’ll stay on this path to truth, TV on mute, recycling bin close by, earplugs at the ready because the truth is:

We don’t have to search for love.

We already have it.

Love was crocheted into our DNA.

They lied to us.

Posted in Poetry, Word, Word, Truth, Life, Love, Writing

Word Before the Day

As I stumble upon morning, yet again, My throat parched,
My eyes cluttered with matter,
My heart half-awake –
I reach for your Word.
Well, first coffee; because…coffee
But always your Word.
And not out of habit.
Well, it IS my daily habit, but
That’s not my motivation.
No. My sweet, smiley,
Southern-belle-heart
Doesn’t always drink-in a
“Good” morning
So easily.
Whereas I don’t always
Feel “good” –
It is good.
Which is why your Word
Is necessary.
It brings life.

I’m 2 weeks into this
Quiet journey today,
Yet there are moments I,
Like the Israelites,
Prefer my “Egypt”-
Because
There is comfort in the familiar.

Truth-be-told
I’ve walked through this
Desert for 16 years and I, too
Have grumbled about
Mannah and quail.
But it has been my provision.
We’ve never missed a meal,
Nor had no roof over our heads.

But it’s time to cross over the Jordan.

My “Egypt” looked like
Men comforting me via text with
Hollow words that kept me
Wondering – and wandering.
My “Egypt” looked like
Words on a screen that
At first soothed, then
Scarred my heart.
My “Egypt” looked like
Delicious foods,
Pleasing to my mouth, yet
Horrible on my body.
Like spending too much,
Like being “liked” by strangers,
Like “I got this.”

But I don’t. Not really.
Not without my good, good Father.

When I awake at dawn
And find myself alone –
And find a message meant from
A concerned friend
Saying “you don’t have a husband because you don’t love God enough and you must have hidden sin.”

I want to shriek –
And block their number
And, like Job, finally stand and utter:
“Look, my eyes have seen all this; my ears have heard and understood it. Everything you know, I also know; I am not inferior to you. Yet I prefer to speak to the Almighty and argue my case before God. You use lies like plaster; you are all worthless healers. If only you would shut up and let that be your wisdom!” [Job 13:1‭-‬5 CSB]

This! This is why I reach for your Word.
Before work.
Before my daily wake-up greeting for Mr. Middle School.
Before my work inbox fills with requests.

And, like the Psalmist, I declare:
“If your instruction had not been my delight, I would have died in my affliction. I will never forget your precepts for you have given me life through them.”
[Psalm 119: 92]

More Word.
Less text. Less grumbling.
More Word.
Less “likes.” Less posting.
More Word.
Less judgment. Less hatred.
More Word.
Just more of your life-giving Word.