Waking Words

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God has woken me up four times in the last six months; awakened with a voice, just seconds before I open my eyes. My sheets hold me captive. I blink awake. My alarm chirps its morning hello. Rubbing sleep from my eyes I wonder at these  words I have heard. Had they been a dream, or a whisper from above?

I’ve heard:

“Get up.”

“You are mine.”

“I know what I am doing.”

“When you are done with the marathon, look towards the ocean.”

The last one in particular causes pensive curiosity to arise in me. Late nights juggling deadlines, the race to live responsibly, I fight exhaustion. Hitting the pillow each night I fight a soul amnesia, forgetting the WHO who carries me through my busy days. This living dementia clings to me as I sleep and Velcros itself to each new day.

Who gives me rest? (I clean my house.) Who provides all that I need? (I cook and serve.) Who said They would never leave me? (I sweep up the angry words that clutter my heart.) My soul forgets. Then the words come crashing in.

I ponder, “When you are done with the marathon,” (do you have more for me to do?). In the race of life there is never a reprieve. “Look towards the ocean.” (Great, now I have to cross the unending expanse?)

Then He unveils the curtain. Why does one go to the ocean? To heal, relax and find joy. The ocean is not unending toil, but the hope of perfect peace.

“Look TOWARDS”, notice the words that are used, not INTO (for that signifies just surface beauty,) not TO (as if looking to something will save you), no TOWARDS is much bigger. TOWARDS means to journey forward to something, knowing that you’ll get there.

After I am done with my whirlwind, He wants me to go towards rest. That oasis is bigger than my nagging troubles. The ocean flows on and on. There I will be washed over with tranquility. Look and travel forward, don’t stand at the finish line waiting for your prize. In Christ we find our rest, even in the waking hours. He speaks it over us. That is award enough for me.

 

 

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to the mom who feels like she’s drowning — Finding Joy

You are not alone. I just want you to know that before you read one more word. And if you can’t even read another word because it just feels like too much I want you to know that you will get through and that you, the one that is drowning in stuff and expectations, are…

via to the mom who feels like she’s drowning — Finding Joy

A Real Guy- Jesus

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I’ve always loved this rendition of Jesus. He is real! My friend, the guy next door, the one who smiles at me at the grocery store, the one holding the door. Here he looks tired, in need of a shower. He has had a day brimming over with responsibility and irritable people. Did he have a headache today? Did he cry for that little girl before he raised her from the dead. Did he wake each morning feeling that he was a failure…if he could have stayed up a little later he could have healed more people, if he tried harder maybe people might have listened.

He must have known there was too much darkness for even his shoulders to bear. But with each wall he faced, he didn’t give up. He had to keep going. He must go on, for you.

He thanked God each step of the way. He knew that he was facing hardship for the best reason ever. One more step, dirty, achy feet. One more criticism,  thrown out of town. Unknown, unloved, no house to call a home.  He picked up the pieces each day happily exhausted for you.

You too can do it! You are not alone.  He walked the path before you to see that it is safe. He has won the victory so you don’t have to. So go ahead and accept your failures, stop chasing the hands on the clock.  The fatigue, he understands, the loneliness he lived. He is real and he smiles for you.

Meghan

The Prison of Time

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I am in a prison of my own choosing. It is called the full life! I have forgotten my dreams and wishes. They are a fleeting sigh. Instead my world is consumed with homework, work, housework, errands and the many other things in life that zap your energy.

If asked, I am happy. I can not complain. I have a roof over my head, heat, food, a healthy family and more. There are so many that would love to have what I have. I should be content. Notice I am happy, but not content.

Life is getting up in the morning. Rushing. Then going to bed. There is not much joy. My life is about serving others. I have no time to take care of me. I know that it is important to do, but there is no time. If there is time, the house needs serious cleaning. I am a sure example of a slob. My professional, organized, able to do it all self has given up. I am being swallowed by responsibilities and I am giving in. It is what it is, is my new saying. My only hope is that things will change in the future.

I wish I could…well I was going to write something, but my mind went blank. I guess I don’t know what I want. I am not me anymore. I am, well I am not sure. I am not a slave, nor a machine. I smile, I am successful at work. I get the responsibilities done, well all except the house. But I am an empty shell. So tired. Time has captured me and I hope that I can make it through till it is my time, MY TIME to live.

Meghan

Help! My boss is a tyrant

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What do I do? I like my job, as long as my boss stays out of my business. As soon as she comes into my office, or gives me assignments to do she looks down on you, criticizes and micro manages everything. Don’t get me started on group meetings. She says she stands for respect, but she interrupts, says the meanest things, scolds people in front of everyone and quizzes professional people for what they learned after a two and a half hour meeting. I am discouraged. I don’t want to go to any more meetings. I have to be there. I have to give a report each meeting. What do I do?

Giving up the past

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Whether it has been the chaotic change in my life and schedule, or that I just needed to move on, I have done just that. I closed the book on my season of abuse and I don’t look back. I guess busyness can be a good thing. Now I just struggle to get through the daily challenges of work, feeding my family, doing the bills and the wash and the homework. It is an exhausting responsibility (the new season in my life).

My three books are neatly hidden away. Sigh. I feel that there is no purpose for them except that they helped me through my darkest days. I know that God cares about my feelings and he let me heal though what I like to do, write. I have to catch myself from putting myself down. I feel that the reason I never got them published was because they weren’t any good anyway. I had many people tell me they were well written, yet I have a problem of only remembering the negative comments. The last woman I gave my personal story to told me that I needed to go to a counselor because I needed help. She told me to leave my husband and that my book only showed that I was trying to manipulate him to change. Maybe she is right.

My Mom says that God never wanted me to publish books on abuse because if Charlie knew he’d leave me. Maybe somewhere down the road I will have time to write a normal book and then God will help me publish that one. I am proud that I accomplished three books, even though I can’t do anything with them.

I am busy living my present right now, and that is all I can handle.