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new hallelijah

When I was younger, I gave up easily, the world all around me seemed impossible to penetrate, and I couldn’t see any possibilities. My attitude towards believing in myself was empty. So much was going on that there was a thick fog wrapped around my mind, and I wasn’t able to see through it.  Instead of moving forward like I wanted, I kept taking steps backward. There is this spirit of persistence that has steadily grown inside of me with time. My understanding of my younger self is fuller and more forgiving.  Every day, He fills me with a new song, some of them are loud and some are whispered. Each time I run to the desert, he comes looking for me. He knows where all of his children are. His mercy goes on forever.

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How I Found My Superpower

Whenever doing a physical activity in school, the teachers would usually pick two people to choose the teams. I was always left to the last.

YEP

I don’t have a single athletic bone in me.

It just seems that everyone is good at playing sports. They’re not awkward. They don’t almost kick the ball, their foot just slipping past the ball, or the basketball just hits the rim of the hoop, and then is ruled out-of-bounds as it drops out the court.

In elementary and junior high, it was a big deal because you were judged on your Olympic ability in kicking, running, serving, dunking, etc. But on the other hand, I am a fabulous spectator! Math and Gym were not slam-dunks for me. This contributed to my oddity, to being weird because having the naturally athletic gene is what helps with your popularity. But I just felt so out of it, and I still don’t understand the reasoning’s behind playing Ultimate Frisbee, and then afterward at a coffee shop or pub. If you want to socialize, just skip ahead to the pub and order food already!

But I’m not completely without game because I can speed walk!

I’m sure, I would probably monopolize the category of speed walking if they ever created it as an event at the Olympics. They haven’t to my knowledge, so I continue on my own.

So What Is My Superpower?

Often I get caught up in I’m no good, and no one sees me syndrome. But He who sees me remains silent with his hands clasped behind his back even on the most intensive days. When I am left on my own, I do find the ability to allow Him to remind me that it is Him that this is all for. That my days of belonging are over because I belong in and to him. Not that it helps all the time, but if I am reminded of my beginnings, and at some point, I will hopefully gain sight of His position in my life.

Somethings don’t make sense, but sometimes the interconnectedness of relationships between strangers, your friends, family, and enemies don’t make sense either. People are what I want to talk about, the same people who disappoint me can at the same time turn around and show me that they do listen. We’re all flawed and that flows into everything you do. A lot of the time we push away what is important like our feelings, our limitations, and struggles. These are the things we need to be honest about in relationships.

I’m a bona vide introvert, so typically, I spend a lot of time to myself because I feel drained by spending too much time with others. It’s easy to isolate myself because of my past struggle with depression and my peers, but as I was attempting to heal from it, I found or re-discovered that I like connecting with people on a one on one basis or even two to five people, but there’s a catch! When my time is spent conversing with others and is spent in the shallowness of today, I am exhausted. I crave a depth and richness of conversation and connection with another person that is hard to find.

Using my Superpower

Most people have no patience for the deeper things of life. I  have found knowing my personality type has been an encouragement because it shows me what is normal for me. It has shown me who I am and that God really did know what he was doing. Even though sometimes I still struggle, I now know that my perspective isn’t necessarily wrong as I always would assume because others would not acknowledge the way I see things. Introversion and my typing is part of the map that is specific to how I think, see and process the world around me. It’s good, it’s really good. In fact, I have realized that who I am is what most likely kept me out of the popular group that I thought would make my life so much better!

 

 

 

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Give Me That!

 

 

For a few years, my sister and Mom have been praying a novena to surrender, but I didn’t see any reason to pray it too

I started noticing when I was off the refined sugar and when I was in certain situations, my emotions would kick in and my first reaction was to eat sugar.  I would use sugar to satisfy the emotion bubbling inside of me. The emotions that I was experiencing were anger and anxiety, and I had started reading this book all about control. Underneath the anger and anxiety is a lot of…

Control

I can see why I wanted control because when I was younger, I didn’t have any at least to my knowledge. I wanted to be able to control something in my environment because I didn’t think I was getting what I needed. I don’t know about you, but being able to control others is a power that supposedly gives you satisfaction. I don’t know about that because I was still pulling in sewage and not treasure. I felt angry because I felt so powerless growing up.

When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves. Genesis ~3:6-7

If someone offered you fruit from a tree and it looked pleasing to you, wouldn’t you take it? Even if you knew the fruit would play havoc with your life, but you didn’t know that yet. If you were told or promise it would do great things for you wouldn’t you want to at least try it out? Maybe your street smarts, or your manners you learned while growing up, or with your beauty, you can manipulate your destiny.

Admitting that I have difficulties with anger or anxiety isn’t always easy for me, but having a long history with depression tends to put it into perspective. What is it that I am trying to control is the question that I’ve started asking myself. Maybe there is a possibility that I will learn to respond instead of reacting.

Starting the novena to surrender, it never occurred to me that I had an issue with control. I mean every minute of every day, were trying to wrench back our control over our lives because it’s just not fair. I was of the mind for years that my idea of how my life should’ve gone was way better, but anger and anxiety didn’t change my situation. Everything has remained relatively the same.

I have always been a keen enthusiast of observing others while they are in a flutter of activity. I listen to everything, colours may blend into the background, and words may skirt inside of my head. I want to know what is it that I am doing wrong?

Anger and anxiety didn’t change my desires or has it brought them any faster into my life-like I thought it would. God values my free will and yet I still choose to certain situations that aren’t really good for me.  You see we think we’re all better than each other but were really clueless as to how to achieve peace and love in our lives

 

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Love My Dad

Who you were, who you are and who you will be are three different people –  Author Unknown

 

Your identity is the most valuable part of you, but most of us, some of us have no idea what it is. Knowing who you are minus all the titles we play day in and day out can blur out the truth of your identity. Confusion is a big deterrent and a likely suspect in losing ourselves to the constant swirl of life.

~

As a little girl, I loved the feel of the cool green grass under my bare feet. I believe at the time that I had the biggest backyard than anyone I knew. I could hide in our tree house that existed out of weirdly shaped trees that bordered our property. In the summer, I would walk over the cracks in the cement in our backyard because I never knew for sure if stepping on them would break my Mothers back. Clothes hung on the clothesline overhead. I could go visit my (Hebrew for grandmother) Bubi anytime I wanted. I remember the sand stuck between my toes and ants crawling over the big peony buds right before they would bloom.

Fear that no one wanted me

Ever since I started this blog, I have used each post as a place for my healing. It has become a place where I have been able to share who I am without fear of rebuff of any kind. Finding my identity and claiming it has been a long process. From an early age, I have been shy, preferring to stay close to my Mom.  When I met Jesus, I became more aware of myself, and at times it was extremely painful. Slowly, I would surprise myself at how well I would speak to others. Over time, the shyness that I assumed was a part of me disappeared, as I would go to reach for it. It was my protection over what I felt I couldn’t control. From the world that I had a hard time processing through.

Shyness is a reaction to feeling rejection. This was at first confusing because as that little girl with the ash blonde hair I thought knew who I was. I believed that the shyness was a part of the package of my personality.

If we lived in a perfect world, I would be living my dream. I wanted to be loved. I didn’t know if I deserved it but it was this silent, persistent need that over time gave my credence of what I didn’t see as acceptance. You see I wanted my Dad to see me as a lovable little girl, but what I didn’t know at the time was he didn’t have the skills on how to fill my emotional needs.

It wasn’t until I was in my mid-twenties that I learned that daughters’ need their fathers love as much as we need oxygen to breathe. The extreme anxiety and depression that I struggled throughout my childhood through to my early 30’s. spoke volumes of how I tried to teach myself on how to handle my emotions.  I can’t breathe unless I know my father loves me unconditionally. It was the root. I really believed I was a terrible person.  Desperate, I was for my Dad to notice me. To take an active interest in who I was.

Before I go on, this is not a post to bash fathers because they are hurting too. Too many men are being pushed down, or believe it’s not good to be masculine and to be as they have been created.

As I have learned about all my parts, or at least the ones He has chosen to show me, I have had many aha moments. He has brought clarity into my being, and a peace that is everlasting. And get this! People really do like me.

Knowing who I am, the peace can flow into every part of my being

As a little girl, I desired for my Dad to notice me, to see me and pursue me. I wanted him to be interested in who I was, but as time went by, he did none of what of what was in my heart. So I did the only thing I knew and I began shutting down emotionally, mentally and physically. Instead, I sought out my Dad, I asked him about the rules of Canadian football, what and why he washed his car. Nothing I did got the attention I was desperate to have from him.

It took me a long time to realize I couldn’t change him, no matter how many times I initiated something with him. I had finally got it, that it had never been my job in first place. It was his job as my father to delight in me – as his daughter. To show me his love, protection, values, and everything that was important to him. I wanted to know who he was and is, but that part of his heart to me has never been opened to me.

My Dad is without the skills I need. I believe his own father didn’t give him what he needed as a boy growing up. His own feelings about his Dad (my grandfather) aren’t the memories that you hold close to your heart. Rather they are the kind that you push away, and you let everyone else teach you how to be a man. Yes, we need our parents, a mother and a father to show us how to be a man or woman –  learned from their parents. A family is about love, trust and passing it down because it is good to know that there is a place where all of us can truly belong and be accepted. There is no cost to join, we simply need to be the product of our parents love that is between them. I believe how we are brought up determines a lot of who we become. It guides our perception of the world, it certainly leads mine.

I speak with my Dad once a month, we chat for about 15 minutes on the usual things. I would love to go to visit him but that just doesn’t seem to be his thing.  Does my Dad love me? Yes. I have no doubt that he does, he kind of gives it away in the way his eyes shine and sparkle when he first sees me. This could be a whole other post because I know my heavenly father has and is filling me with what I lack.

I’m not the shy, scared, self-hating little girl with ash blond hair anymore. Nor am I am the girl who hid from her peers. I am not the awkward adult who didn’t feel that she was a full-grown adult and just a child in disguise. Don’t get me wrong there are still times, the child in me comes out and gives a sly smile at those around her, and allows some of them into her heart so that they can see for themselves that God still saves.

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Keeping Calm

never-be-in-a-hurry-do-everything-quietly-1

He’s in the eye of my storm. It was one of those weeks when everything seems to come colliding down like waves in an ocean. Every weakness I thought that had been healed had pushed itself back into my life. At least it seemed that way.

And wondering where God is in all of this?

I know it would be easy to say, and I have in the past thought, believed, and pouted about how God isn’t here statement. I work in a low-income housing building(s), I know not only my clients but also quite a few of the tenants that live in the building as well. It’s the perfect place to love others as Jesus teaches us to do, but the actual  act can actually look like something else sometimes.

Over the summer, both of the elevators were replaced, and we’re is still waiting for the second elevator to be inspected before it can put into service. In the waiting, there is one small elevator in service. It is here that you see some of what lacks in everyday living, namely kindness, courtesy and generosity being extended to those who need it. There were some factors that didn’t help as I was tired and peeved that I hadn’t seen my supervisor in a couple of weeks, and I was assuming that she was hiding from the clients. I was feeling frustrated at the fact the people in front of me were filling the small elevator with two grocery carts to move in. I wanted to scream, but I knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything. So I scowled at the two people who really didn’t seem to understand.

Changes coming

I don’t love my job nor do I hate it. But I have learned how important support from management is to a low-level employee, which is what I am. Nothing is all about you, and sometimes when you learn that it either perplexes you or you sigh with relief. At first, the anger I experienced when waiting to use the elevator surprised me, its intensity trembling inside of me.

He helped me to remember that he was still the eye of my storm, and he still had the power to bring the waves of contention to a stillness that most of us have never experienced. By that Friday, I finally saw [in person] and spoke with my supervisor who I had not seen in over two weeks. I don’t like just communicating by text and phone, for me, it’s not real enough. There’s this invisible screen that separates us that isn’t enough for me. As she spoke, I listened, there was no anger, in fact, and I started to understand why the state of my anger rose to such a high pitch inside of me.

Previously, my mom had reminded me that triggers that appear out of nowhere, can mean it’s just a burden for me to carry, a burden for someone else. That’s right, I was carrying someone else’s burden, but in the beginning, I didn’t realize this because it feels like mine. It’s a reminder that nothing I have or want to pocesses is mine, to begin with, and especially when something comes hurtling out of nowhere that you need to pay care.

Paying Attention

It wasn’t until I left the building with my schedule for next week that I realized that I felt free. I didn’t have the heaviness that I had carried. I could fill my lungs with fresh air and just remain little in all of this big, confused world.

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Hindsight is Perfect

 

Michael stood in the last row on the very end in my kindergarten class picture with the biggest teddy bear. He had chocolate brown eyes, black hair that never seemed to be in place with his cow’s lick and a proverbial runny nose courtesy of his all season allergies.

He was this paradox in my life from the time I was five until I was 24 years old. He was a constant in my life. Being with Michael was always fun, especially on P.D. days. I learned how gross boys could be, but I chalked it up to boys just being weird, always dirty and entertaining. He didn’t like it when I was sick, and he would attempt to kiss me when I was feeling better. Even though I would pretend indifference as he attempted to kiss me when I felt better. I would never admit it ,but I liked that he missefile000202384719d me. I could just look at him, and that would send me into fits of laughter

In high school, we kept in touch mostly by calling each other once a week, and I think I believed everything would stay the same. But it was then that I saw changes taking place in him. Nothing concrete, but like bread crumbs being laid down, I saw, heard and sensed the confusion that slowly developed in him.

The entire time I was friends with Michael, I wanted him to notice me, but I was always in conflict with myself because I didn’t know where I stood with him. I had this bad habit of mixing his name up with my Dad’s name, and I would call my Dad; Michael. I knew something wasn’t right, but I didn’t know I was looking at Michael for what I really needed from my Dad. I knew psychology would probably explain why I kept mixing the names up. Communicating well was not in my vocabulary at this time. I kept everything locked up tight inside my head. I was quiet, shy and very observant but Michael was able to see beyond that. He would always remember me.

It wasn’t until he moved away for University that I began seeing a side of him emerge that I had never met before. He had purposely chosen a program that would take him away from home. The home was not the oasis that most would assume about his family. His parents were both teachers, and while it made for great appearance sake, things were fraying at the edges in his family.

I remember one year when Michael had come home a few days before Christmas, and of course, he hadn’t even started his Christmas shopping.   It was probably my only chance to really spend time with him. One such year, I remember as he met up with some friends and he started talking to them. It was like he pretended that he didn’t know I was standing right beside him. I had started becoming invisible to him. On reflection, I realize it had been happening longer than I wanted to admit to. I had him on such a high pedestal, I could only see his good side. There were some other situations that showed me that we weren’t little anymore. I began to doubt his loyalty and friendship to me. I even wrote him a letter at one point, about our friendship, and his solution a bouquet of a dozen red roses. At some point, I started hearing a silent voice, and I believe it was God, who spoke. “Michael is not the marrying kind.” I ignored this, but it was the truth.

Around the time of my initial conversion to Christ(1999) when it seems like God simply picked me up, and everything that I was avoiding and had suppressed was unearthed from me.  For me, that meant acknowledging my feelings. Every single one I hid from because they scared the crap out of me. It was around this time that I noticed that Michael had this friend that didn’t seem like the kind of friend Michael would normally hang with. Michael always had to work hard for his grades in school, and was in no way a nerd, but this ‘friend’ was very much a nerd. These bread crumbs that I saw while he was in high school had never disappeared.  He never stopped trying to tell me what he feared I think the most, at the time, was his sexuality.

I don’t remember the exact circumstances but I remember the age that we were when I last pexels-photo-105041saw him; he was 24 years old, and I was 23. He was four months older than me. My mom had heard the news on the radio, and a neighbour confirmed hearing his name as well. Michael had been charged with sexual assault of two young boys. I wish I could remember exactly what he wearing and looking the last time I saw him but I don’t. In fact, I don’t have a single picture of him as an adult, and I don’t think that’s an accident. I don’t remember my thoughts, but in the weeks and months ahead I experienced so much anger towards him. He had stopped being that person I thought I knew.

I don’t know where my decision to break off contact with him came from, but I knew couldn’t deal with his stuff and my stuff at the same time.  I did what I thought was healthy at the time. I told him I couldn’t be his friend anymore. I wrote him a letter. He never tried to contact me, he respected my wishes. The innocence of our friendship had faded a long time ago, but I had just assumed I would be his friend in some way for the rest of our lives. But he has never left my heart.

I always believed my heart was burning for him. I wanted a friend who would always be with me, always listen, always want and love me, but it wasn’t Michael; he was badly chipped. I wanted him to be what I needed, and if only he would truly ‘see’ me everything would be better. I pinned all of the solutions to my problems to Michael noticing me. It took a long time before I realized he was just a boy, who just wanted to be loved and accepted by those around him. Yes, he’s an adult now, but there are parts of us that never truly grow up, and stand tall to be that man or woman that we were created to be.

Published previously in 2014

Luke~24:30-32

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Pieces

Big moments of panic are overcoming me, so I light a candle with the intentions and praying that I can leave all ‘icky’ feelings at the foot of the cross. Trying to remove myself and finding a place to pray, trying to find ‘my mountain’ in my small place.

My order and structure side of me is starting to overtake, and a blip of my perfectionism is barking out orders to everyone who will listen. Signs of Spring have leaked into the air, and I stand still wishing to be a part of the silent, but everything has slowed. Silence doesn’t seem to offer what it once did.photo-1416339134316-0e91dc9ded92

Order doesn’t not exist in the way I want it to, but more like a haphazard way, and sometimes staying in my emotions provides a way back to peace. It  is calm before the storm because in the far distance I can hear rumbling thunder. Wind swishes through the branches, through the leaves and He is the master pruner taking what is His.

When I was diagnosed with Depression, I felt as if I was being forced into something that I didn’t want, and God probably saw(and sees) it as his child(once more) resisting His wisdom. Learning to realize the fear I experienced came from my thoughts. My reactions and perspective on life, generally was how I received things. I learned to breathe, to repeat calming words to reassure myself that I was safe.

Perspectives differ and it is then that I realize how fragile relationships really are. The lines that are drawn in the sand, and it is too easy for those safeguards to disappear. Walking on a tightrope through others has lent to me the ability to stay clear of unseen dangers up ahead.

Dreams have let you and me down, and we unconsciously followed the movement to where we are now. The waves of sadness, fear, anger, hurt and envy twirl in amongst the forced life we thought was what we wanted.