DO YOU remember middle school? I wish I didn’t. I was the new kid in sixth grade and the new kid in seventh and the new kid in eighth. Even the new kid in ninth.

With the first two moves, hope swelled me. I wondered what the kids were like? Nice? Would I made a good friend? Will they like me? Will I be accepted?

By the third move, my heart had cooled. I still wanted the kids’ acceptance, of course. I longed for it. But looking in from the outside hurt so so much. I walled me myself in. This hurt too.

When I came across this Tangle video, I had to share it with you. Short, sweet, pure. Acceptance. Please pause my music player at the bottom of the page. Thanks.

Did you see the boy’s grin? How he slipped his hand into hers? He felt accepted. It was his best day ever.

What about you?

Do you know that God accepts you just as you are, warts and all. You don’t have to clean up before you come to him. Simply open the door.

“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him and he will me.” Revelation 3:20

You Are Loved, Lucy

As I de-cluttered, I found two yellowed computer printouts, one dated September 4, 1993, the other a day later. My mom died four month, six days later. 

The first begins, “Dear Lucy, This is my special letter of thoughts to you. I think you have some misconceptions about your early childhood.” Nearly every paragraph after the first few begins ”I remember.”

She remembers “taking me out in the buggy.” . She remembers telling off the doctor who wanted to give me the wrong formula. And she remembers my dad in a way I never knew him: involved, caring, protective, playful.

My dad never hurt me on purpose. He lived in a dark, bottomless world of depression. Many years later, I lived there too. My own depression, my own pit. I would look up and see the way out. My problem: I couldn’t find my way. It’s not that I didn’t try. One hand then the other, I dug into the wall, my fingernails blackened with dirt. I tried to find a toehold and couldn’t. I banged my head against the wall, again and again, until I felt nothing. Releasing my grasp, sliding down, my face muddied, my hair tangled, I almost gave up.

Almost.

Just like my mom. She had a nervous breakdown when I was very little, maybe age 4 or 5. I have no idea who cared for my brother and me when she stayed at the hospital. Maybe my dad. Maybe a relative. I don’t know. I’m sure I missed her. I loved her.

My dad visited the pit. My mom. Me.

I have an inkling why her letter memories sound upbeat. Sometimes we — you, me, anyone — want things to be what they could have been not as they really were.

What do you think? Do you remember events differently than your loved ones?

And what do we do with the tough memories? With the regets?

You know what I did?

I looked back long enough to understand the “why.” Then I stopped looking back. I moved on. The memories don’t pull me down. I’ve let go of their hold on me and have put my hand into the Lord’s. Sure, my dad may have “failed” me in certain ways and I may “fail” my kids.

God?

Only he is sure.

You Are Loved, Lucy

P.S. Do you hurt? Biblical counseling can bring you healing and hope. Please stop by REAL HOPE BIBLICAL COUNSELING for online help.

In my mania, God said, “Pause.” Thank you for this simple word. It got my attention.

I paused,

stopped my crazy-busyness,

and heard

a heartbeat.

Yours, Father. As you pulled me close and I leaned in to you and you whispered, “You are my Beloved.”

Enjoy this music video, my sweet sisters in Christ. Please pause my music player first. Thanks. : )

You Are Loved.
Praise Him.
Lord, I Am Yours Alone.
Lucy

I AM POOPED.

Cranky.

Just an inch shy of exhausted.

Many, many reasons explain my sad state of mind and body.

1. Save the Girls Yard Sale concluded. We raised a bit more than $100 in donations for ministries that rescue and care for child sex slaves, numbering 2 million worldwide, with 80 percent of them female, some as young as 5 or 6 years old. Sick, sick, sick.

What has tired me out? While I made change, bagged and passed out info on child sex slavery (with a daughter or friend to help! Yay peeps!), dishes stacked, laundry overflowed, floors got sticky, and the meals did not make themselves. Oh, how I wish I had a maid.

And not just housework bowled me over. I tweeted, facebooked and blogged and even went to church. Woohoo. <<Did ya catch the sarcasm? I should read this baby into a nifty mic so you could download it on your iPod and catch the intonations.>>

2. Money woes. Yep, just like you, I have  to make do on less money with higher gas and food prices. Before I begin to pity-party <<don’t go there, Lucy. . .don’t go there, Lucy>>, I’m one wealthy lady compared to Jesus’ day. Then if you had an extra set of  clothes and food for the next day, you were very, very good to go. A regular Mrs. Steve Jobs. So who am I to complain?

3. Eating poorly. My food choices aren’t particularly horrible. No Ding-Dongs for din-din. I’m just not eating. Don’t worry. No anorexia. I’m choosing work over meals. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Food provides energy, right? And I’m skipping meals?

4. Skipping exercise. Hey, why not? <<More sarcasm.>> Skip meals, skip exercise. Not even a walk around the block.

I confess: I’m a meal-skipping workaholic who doesn’t move her butt out of her chair and instead worries about money.

Now that I recognize my error in thinking – BIG PROBLEMS, small God — will I:

a) wallow

b) kick a chair

c) think right

Hmm. Wallowing seems sickly gratifying, since it’s all about me me me. Kicking a chair could be radical. . .not how I usually behave. . .something new and different.

I KNOW C is the right answer. (I wrote the quiz, remember?) That’s what I should do because when I think right about God and me then my problems shrink. Should I? Maybe I don’t want to. Sulk, sulk, sulk.

Okay, Okay, God, I hear you. C. I pick C. <<How I wish Wordpress.com let me put the C in 72 points! It doesn’t. Err. Guess I gotta deal with it.>>

When I think right finally I can C (bad pun, I know, please forgive me):

BIG GOD, small problems.

What about you? Right now, which is bigger in your life? Your problems? Or God?

You Are Loved, Lucy