Tag: Broken

Faith in God, Who Gives Crazy Ideas

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. – Matthew 5:9

“So, I got this crazy idea”, is usually how most of my projects have started out. They are usually followed up by, “Oh, you can’t do that Kim. It won’t work.” which then of course, THEY DO!

So this, I’ve learned has become the formula for when God is asking me to do something.

It starts off as an idea I think is absolutely not possible, and not only can’t see how it’s going to work; I don’t want to be the one doing it.

“No. No. No. God, what are you going to make me do? ” He pushes me outside my comfort zone, every. single. time. It sucks.

I do not want to host an ice cream social for the community. I do not want to knock on all my neighbors doors, to invite them to a block party. There is no possible way I can collect enough plastic bags and then make sleeping mats for the homeless, that would be enough to serve in any significant way.

All of which are done in the spirit of loving God and loving others (Mark 12:30-31), being a light to the world (Matthew 5:14), and making disciples (Matthew 28:13).

But it’s all about trust, right? Having faith.

Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. – James 1:22

Oh my gosh, Lord, what are you going to make me do now?

He doesn’t always give me the whole plan of how I’m going to pull it off, but he usually always gives me the excitement that comes with it before, rather than after. I see his vision. And I get so excited!

Then, in my excitement, I announce my crazy idea, and time and time again, it is followed up by people telling me it won’t work, or I can’t pull it off, or I’m crazy.

Oh, I know!

They’re not being mean, or unsupportive, they just know me really well. And they’re right! I can’t do any of these crazy ideas. But with God, I KNOW, I can (Matthew 19:26).

He gave me a vision. I can’t see how I will get there, but I can see what it looks like in the end. And I usually have the best time ever!

So, with that…

I GOT A CRAZY IDEA!

How do I know? Well, I’m terrified, for one, and I’ve already heard, “It’s a great idea, Kim. I just don’t know how it’s gonna work. People aren’t going to want to come. Most will not be ready for it.”

I can’t tell you how I got this idea. I can’t really remember when it started to grow, but I know with all my heart it’s something worthy and honoring to God. I can’t, not try.

When I went back to college to earn my degree in Christian Studies, people asked what I was going to do after I graduated. I told them really I had no idea. I was ok with it, because I knew God had a plan but if he had revealed it to me at the time, it would have completely freak me out.

We’ll guess what? I think this may be it!
We are The Peacemakers.

It’s working with moms who have had a child or children with an ex-partner who remarried, and now has another woman who is involved with her child’s life; the step-mom.

Yes, I’m aware that divorce is not biblical. But it is, however something very prevalent in today’s Christian churches. So why instead of throwing the baby out with the bath water, and not talking about this population of parents, as if it is taboo; why not see how we can bring them together in unity, that is God honoring, and show the world the power of Christ’s forgiveness, compassion and love, for the sake of their children?

The goal is to be able to put aside difference, FOR THE CHILDREN. It’s not to become best friends. It’s not to restart a relationship with an ex. But it is to be able to come together to co-parent so their children continue to feel safe, secure and loved by both sets of parents.

Many times, most of the time, probably all of the time, the step mom /ex wife relationship is sabotaged from the beginning because of one thing…the ex.

They may be completely lovely people but already don’t like each other. There is a barrier that immediately goes up. They are the enemy.

They don’t even know each other, and yet they share two very important things that should bring them together, instead of pull them apart; the children, and a relationship with their Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

They may not go to the same church, but they may go to a church somewhere. So why then, can’t they work through this, if they claim to be followers of Christ?

It is almost an “ok” thing, to not have a relationship or even to have a bad relationship with an ex and ex’ wife. It is understood. It accepted. It is never talked about at church. It is never addressed, but yet ex-wives and step moms go to church every single week.

For whatever reason, a traditional single family unit is no longer a possibility, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try for the next best thing.

Therefore, I propose we come together for the best interest of the children.

The children, who by the way, are God’s children. Why would he not want this?

So with that, I’ve met with my pastor, and I’ve been interviewing friends; some of which who share children, and some who have counseled moms who do. And I’ve been collecting a lot of great ideas as to what THIS could actually look like.

My next step is to hit my Bible. I know, everything I need to know is already in there. My job is to drive in and find it.

I’m the lucky one. I get a double blessing. Not only in the end, I will be brining people closer to Christ, in the process I get to be closer to him as well! How exciting is that!

However, like any of my crazy ideas, I go into it with a lot of fear and hesitation.

After one of my interviews, I walked to my car and thought to myself, “Why are you doing this? It’s not going to work.”

What if both moms are not Christian? What if one or both are too wounded to focus on the children?  What if the step mom is the “other” woman?

But as quickly as my doubts came, I heard a voice inside me say, “They said the same thing about Girls’ Club”.

And like THAT, my fear went away.

This is going to happen. I don’t know how this is  going to happen, I don’t know when this is going to happen, but I know this is  going to happen.

I have faith in a God who gives crazy ideas, so that the rest of the world can watch and wonder, what is that? 

All for his glory, we will show the world.

And all the believers met together in one place and shared everything they had. – Acts 2:44

Borrowing Voices

I’m not sure I could say I had lost my voice. I never remember having one.

As a small child I remember having to play in a kiddy pool, but wasn’t allowed to have a bathing suit. I had to strip down to only my panties. I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I was old enough to be completely humiliated.

But we don’t talk it. We act like this is normal. Since it doesn’t feel normal, I feel something must be wrong with me.

Again, sometime as a small child, probably kindergarten, I was molested by a neighbor’s child. And even though we were caught, reprimanded, and I was sent home; it happened again the next day, only this time I was forced to molest her. I don’t know if she ever got in trouble. But I sure felt like I did.

But we don’t talk about this. We act like it never happened. I feel guilt.

My brother and a neighbor kid run across some extremely inappropriate magazines for any child, any adult. He gets in trouble. He thinks it’s funny. I think, those are somebody’s little girls.

But it’s never talked about. I don’t know whatever happened to those girls. I feel shame.

I’m probably twelve. My brother and I have the chickenpox. He is covered head to toe. I have two spots in the middle of my back. He’s only put off by the fact that he’s stuck indoors for the next two weeks during his summer, while I’m laid up on the sofa, not too far from the bathroom for the greater part of those same two weeks, lifting my nightgown to anyone who comes to our house and has already been exposed to the chickenpox, but doesn’t believe that I have them too.

I’m not allowed to disagree. Just do what I’m told. At least I don’t have to face them as they stare at my body. I feel degraded.

I’m in high school and I’ve developed a cyst on my breast, only I don’t know what it is. No one does. People are invited to come over to inspect.

“Show her. She’s a nurse.” Only, I know her as the neighbor. I close my eyes. I feel irrelevant.

On public streets I am grabbed at.

I am frozen in terror as to what just happened. I say nothing. I do nothing. I tell no one. I feel like I’m just a thing.

“She’s only seventeen? She doesn’t look seventeen!”

“She’s eighteen! She doesn’t look old enough to be eighteen! ”

“You have beautiful eyes.”

I look away. I don’t want to be seen anymore. I don’t want to be touched, anymore.

No, I don’t believe I ever had a voice. In fact I believe I was taught I wasn’t allowed one.

Instead, I learned how to shut down. I learned how to disassociate. I learned how to separate my mind from what was going on with my body. I could get “lost” inside my head so I could get through the moment.

It was a gift from God. He taught me how to survive through it when I felt powerless to do anything. It kept me from acting out. It kept me from going insane. It kept me from hurting myself.

But as an adult, I hung onto it. I clung to it, even though I wasn’t powerless anymore. This gift was never meant for me to use forever. I would have to learn I have a voice and how to use it. No longer could I play a victim. I no longer was.

God helped me with that. You see, this gift he gave to free me to be somewhere else, also freed me to be someone else.

I fell into ASL, American Sign Language by God’s divine plan. Having always felt just getting through this moment was my only objective in life, I’d never entertained any ideas of what I would like to actually do in my life.

Never, ever would I have believed I would one day become an interpreter. I was too quiet, too shy, and I didn’t want the attention.

However, I quickly discovered the gift God gave me to be somewhere else, allowed me to be pretty good with being someone else.

Things I couldn’t do as Kim, I was able to do as my client. I was complaining to doctors, and yelling at coworkers. I could ask questions without feeling stupid. I could be bold when something was unjust. And I couldn’t apologize for getting upset, or disagreeing with someone. I was allowed to get angry because my client was angry.

(For the record, they do a whole lot more than bucking the system. I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression. In my opinion, they are expert communicators. They do more than try to be heard, they want to be understood.)

While becoming an interpreter, I found I was borrowing their voice. I had the privilege of being someone else. I was learning what it meant to have a voice and developing my own.

Working with the Deaf has taught me how to stop being a victim. It has shown me that I can exercise my power to say no, and nothing bad is going to happen. I can disagree. I can speak up. I can be…me!

I have a tremendous amount of respect for the Deaf. As a community, they have had to fight to be heard. What more appropriate group to teach me something I should have learned a long time ago.

They have taught me, even though they may not speak, they can still be heard.

I am not weird. I do not carry that guilt. I do not feel any shame. I no longer feel degraded. I am relevant. I am me, not a thing.

But still, God had one more gift to give. During a prayer where you go back in time to where you longed to know where Jesus was, I asked him why he wasn’t there for me.

As I was reliving these memories of losing my innocence, I felt as if Jesus himself, had stepped over and around me as if I was encased inside of him. It felt like a warm blanket was wrapped about my shoulders to cover me while he took my place and was choosing to be exposed instead.

Do I believe Jesus was with me during all those childhood times? Absolutely. I believe, because I have been freed from all the false messages I heard. I have a voice now and I want to be seen.

You see, I have a story to tell and it starts and ends with a man name Jesus Christ.

He has redeemed me.

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The Struggle Is Real

My husband came home last night with a fitbit for me. Not because he’s expecting or demanding anything from me, but he’s known I’ve wanted one for awhile.

I’ve written about my weight issues that started off as more of a perspective issue but 35 years later, it has turned into a legit issue.

When I was pregnant with my daughter almost 10 years ago, I developed high blood pressure. It was the last month of my pregnancy and the last two weeks before she was born. My doctor wanted to deliver her.

There was no way I was going to do that. It would screw up my plan. I had my whole leave planned out, you know. Oh, no. She had to stay put, another two weeks.

Well, after a week on bed rest I said, “Get this kid out!”

Doctor reassured me, once she was delivered, despite being over 200lbs, my blood pressure would go down. Well, it didn’t.

I was on the blood pressure medicine for about a year before I decided it was time to come off. I stopped by meds without my doctors consent.

Do you know how dangerous this is??? How stupid?

I was off them for a year before I suddenly started getting random nose bleeds. And I’m talking about in the middle of working, all of a sudden, for no reason my nose would just start bleeding.

It would bleed for hours too. I couldn’t tell you how many times I freaked out and went to the emergency room for a nose bleed.

None of them took me seriously. I would wait for another two hours before I would be seen and then sent home with a clip on my nose, telling me it was nothing serious.

Yeah, my blood pressure was high, but they would say it was because my nose was bleeding.

I was finally able to get in to see my doctor, while my nose was bleeding and he determined my blood pressure wasn’t high because my nose was bleeding, but my nose was bleeding because my blood pressure was high!

In his exam room, he broke out some blood pressure medication and had me start taking them right there.

I never had another nose bleed. And I would never come off my meds again, until my doctor would say it was safe.

Four years later I decided I wanted to come off them again. But this time I knew to do so, I would have to address my “weight perspective issue” that had turned into a “actual weight issue”. That happens. If you believe something to be true, eventually, it is.

So I started to move more and eat less. It was…well a struggle, but I ended up losing 60lbs and after losing just 30 of it, my doctor took me off of my meds. And that only took me four months to lose.

First, he had me cut my med in half for a month and record my blood pressure everyday. I came back in to show him my numbers. Then I can’t remember if I had to take a half a pill every other day or if he had me stop them, but I still had to record my numbers every day and bring them in to him a month later.

My numbers looked great! I’ve been off my meds for three and a half years now!

But guess what. My weight that had been down 60lbs has almost gone back up 60lbs. I knew this day would happen. And yes, it is just as devastating as I thought it would be.

I’ve known for awhile if I didn’t get it under control again, I’d have to go back on my meds.

Now I don’t know if it’s because I’ve had a cold, but yesterday I blew my nose, and there was blood.

Now, every time my nose runs, I’m thinking it’s a nose bleed. Can you feel my paranoia?

So now I got a fitbit. Now it’s time to get serious again. So what does that look like? I have no idea. I still have Christmas to get through!

Ok, so here’s the thing. I’m going to track my journey (again) through twitter. Follow along if you’d like to join me. I won’t bore you here with it, unless something inspires me.

But I got to warn you. There won’t be anything sexy about it. I am going to be a baby about it. It’s gonna suck!

But I’m gonna do it. Because that’s what I do. I follow through. Plus, you’ll hold me accountable.

I don’t want to be on my meds. I don’t want my kids to be without a mom.

I want to be around to enjoy retirement with my husband. I want to model a healthy lifestyle for my family.

SO HERE WE GO!

A Good Place to Be

My son told me yesterday that the kid across the street is afraid of me. I was shocked. Why would he be afraid of me? I’ve only talked to him once since we’ve moved here and it was to invite his family over to our house for a Fourth of July celebration.

He then told me that the kid has heard me yelling from across the street. Mike immediately confirmed that he has also been across the street, talking to the neighbors, and has heard me.

*sigh*

…

…

I can’t tell you how incredibly sad this makes me.

Not because it’s not true, but because it is. I’m a yeller. I’ve been aware of it for a long time too. I just really thought I’ve been doing better.

I’m embarrassed too.

Oh my gosh, I look at myself and I think, yeah, I do all these great things. You do these great things to show people Jesus. You volunteer. You partner with lots of different not-for-profit organizations. You’re constantly in the church doing something, anything, everything. And then I think…

You know if you didn’t do all these great things, then you would just be another mother who yells at her kids. It wouldn’t be right, but it’s not unheard of. But because you do all these things, trying to live like Christ, it makes you worse than just another mother who yells at her kids. It like negates everything you’re trying to do!

I’m trying to be an example. I’m trying to be some sort of leader. I’m trying to point people to Jesus. And here I find my neighbors are afraid of me. It completely makes me question who I am and what do I think I’m doing.

I’ve heard lots of Christian clichés. God doesn’t call the qualified. He qualifies the called. Or, being a Christian doesn’t make you sinless, but hopefully it makes you sin less.

But I don’t want to hear a clichés. I don’t want to be justified. I don’t want to be made to feel better. There is nothing righteous or holy about yelling at your kids. There is nothing redeeming about scaring your neighbors.

I will tell you though…it is humbling. That’s a good place to be.

It’s a good place to be reminded that you aren’t that great; that you don’t have it all together; that you’re really not that different from any other pagan sinner out there; that all your good works are still just filthy rags. Jesus is the only thing you got going for you.

Without Jesus, I am nothing. I am pathetic. I am a mess. And yet, Jesus never yells at me. He never scares me into submission. Even when I try my best to be worthy of Him, I screw up, and still his words convict, not condemn me.

Oh what a wretched person I am.

But I am a humbled, wretched person, I am.

Heavenly Father,

Forgive me for what I have done. I want to speak life into my children. Teach me to be more like your Son, Jesus. I want to build them up, not tear them down. Teach me to convict, not to condemn. I want to learn and practice your ways, Lord. For who am I without you? I am nothing. I am infected and impure with sin.  When I display my righteous deeds,  they are nothing but filthy rags. Like autumn leaves, I wither and fall,  and my sins sweep me away like the wind (Isaiah 64:6). By your grace alone, I have been called your daughter. I want to serve you and bring you glory not because I have to, but because I want to. Thank you for loving me when I am unlovable. Please teach me to do the same. Amen.

Broken Bells and Whistles

You know when we see a movie, we pretty much know how it’s going to end, we’ll, for the most part.

I haven’t seen Jurassic World yet, but I’m fairly certain in the end the main character will survive. And yet, throughout the entire movie I will probably be sitting on the edge of my seat watching, and waiting for something bad to happen.

What is it about our feelings that even though we know the truth, we feel all this stuff that makes us feel like we don’t?

I know Hollywood capitalizes on this phenomenon, but are there consequences for this kind of behavior? I don’t know.

Why do my emotions and my head not respond to the same information, in the same way? Why can’t they talk to each other? How can my head be telling me everything is safe when my emotions are sending me into a panic?

I don’t get it. It could be entertaining I suppose…if you like to pay for someone to scare you or make you feel bad. I personally don’t, but I’ve got a house full of kids who do.

I have three kids obsessed with Friday Nights At Freddy’s even though it gives them nightmares. IT’S A VIDEO GAME!

I don’t get it. I especially don’t get it at 2am, so if you continue to play this game, know there is worse things to scare you at 2am, and it’s not a video game if you come knocking on my door at that hour.

Moving on.

What’s not so fun is when you take an elevator ride and it suddenly stops between floors. You know you’re not going to die. You know eventually it will either start working or someone will notice it’s not working. There’s alarms on these things, right? I mean if it plummets to the basement some bell or whistle will sound, right? RIGHT!?

What’s most distressing to me is I believe with every fiber of my being, that there is an all powerful and knowing, and GOOD, God watching out for me and not only me, but everyone else who believes in him too.

I read the Bible. It ends pretty well, pretty incredible, actually. The war is won! Christ wins!

And yet, here I am freaking out over my son who doesn’t want to take his meds, or my other son who wants to live with his other parent. Why? There is still an all powerful and knowing, and GOOD God watching out for me and them.

My head knows this is true and yet my emotions are sending me into a panic. Why???

I don’t find this entertaining. It makes me feel like a fool. It makes me feel like a liar.

So here I am. Over here. Freaking out. Looking like a fool. Being a liar.

… when I know it’s not true.

God, fill me with your truth. Your words bring me comfort. Why do I fret, when I know you are in control? Can all my worries add a single moment to my life? Why do I have such little faith? Lord, I know you, let me feel you too.

Do you see Jesus?

So I woke up this morning and thought…you just wrote a whole post completely exposing the fact that you are fear-based! I hate knowing I am fear-based!

Fear-based is making all your decisions based from your fear. Not your faith. Not that the outcome is bad, but the motivation behind it is.

Fear is not something from God. Perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18) and since God IS perfect love…well, I’m so disappointed in myself.

My post on, Let It Be Me, should have been about compassion, not fear. It should have been about love. Jesus said, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’ – Matthew 25:40

He was talking about when we feed the hungry, or clothe the poor. That, THAT should have been my motivation!

My son doesn’t need my fear. There is no God in fear. Fear is the absence of God, and my son needs my God, not my fear.

So I’m doing a Do-over! It’s my blog, I can do what I want.

Yes, I have a heart for the homeless. Yes, I am excited to be partnering with my friend in making sleeping mats, because Jesus said,

“The most important commandment is this: ‘Listen, O Israel! The Lord our God is the one and only lord. And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength.’ The second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ No other commandment is greater than these.” – Mark 12:31.

This is where I want my motivation to come from. In all things, I want my love, Christ’s love,  to be shown through me and onto others.

After the parable of The Good Samaritan Jesus asked, “Which of these would you say was a neighbor to the man?” and the man replied, “The one who showed mercy.” Then Jesus said, “Yes, now go and do the same.”

This, THIS is faith-based. You see, you could be doing it all right, and yet get it all wrong.

When people look at me I want them to see Jesus. I don’t want them to see I’m a nice person, because I’m not. No one is good. Only God is good.

When you see a nice person you see one of two things, fear or Jesus. I pray when you see me, you see Jesus.

If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing. – 1 Corinthians 13:2