Forever grateful

Eighteen years. That's how long my husband Chad and I have been together. I've heard people say that there is no such thing as "meant to be". That it's more about luck, or about the choices you make in life-whether they are good or bad choices- and learning to make the best of those choices. Maybe for some people it is like this.  For me, however, I believe differently.  I choose to believe differently. It wasn't until I gave my life to God, that I began understanding this more and more-- and how there are no such thing as coincidences when you simply believe. I, of course, believe this because I met my husband when I was 12 but didn't really see him until God opened both of our eyes at age 21.

God knew exactly what he was doing when He crossed my path with Chad's. He knew I needed someone to love me...for me. Chad does that.  He sees in me what his mother doesn't want to. He sees in me what my dad didn't. He sees in me what my mother often misses. He sees in me what other people aren't capable of seeing. He sees in me, what I don't even see in myself. Under the hardened exterior he sees my potential, he sees my good, he sees my heart.

Over eighteen years, there were times that I made it difficult to be loved. For me, it's simply easier to push people out of your life, instead of allowing yourself to be loved. God had to have known I was like this, because unbeknownst to me, he sent me someone He knew would patiently walk with me through this journey of life and marriage. Someone who would love me...for me. Someone I wouldn't have to change for, but someone I would change with. And change we have- and change we are! We are definitely not the same people we were when we were 21. The last two years have been nothing but one big change. Change is never easy (I often do it kicking and screaming like a child--Chad too), but the more we change, the stronger we get. The more I allow God to change me, the better I get; and like a fine wine, the better we get.

For some reason I have always had a hard time really believing that someone could actually love me...for me...just as I am-and this goes for God as well. Maybe I feel like if God really knew me, He wouldn't love me so much after all. This thought crosses my mind continuously throughout any given day. So what did He do? In His Grace, He sent me someone who would love me... for me. Someone who didn't want to change me, but who simply wanted to be with me. Someone who knows my faults, my shortcomings, my fears, and my ugly side, and loves me in spite of it. Someone who continues to love me more and more every year; for better or worse, in sickness and in health, fat or thin, grumpy or happy, quiet or yelling, scared or fearless, rich or poor, beer or wine, make-up or no make-up, running or walking, crying or laughing, kicking or screaming, skinny jeans or regular jeans (or yoga pants for that matter)- he continues to love me. And for that I am forever grateful.

Doubting Thomas

Are you a Doubting Thomas? I think we all have been at one time or another. Some of the apostles were  doubters even after Jesus appeared to them from heaven--twice! Even after you read this, you may still choose to doubt. There. Will. Always. Be. Doubters.  Here it goes: I have had numerous spiritual dreams over the past two years or so (I like to think it's a spiritual gift), but none more vivid than than the dream that rocked my world last September.  Out of nowhere, I had a dream and an angel appeared before me in my bedroom and showed me laying on an operating table, and said,  "that the time was coming that I would need some surgery on my heart- but not to fear because I would be okay". I awoke thinking, "what on earth??" I had been having some heart palpitations off and on for years, but was told it was too much caffeine. I had a heart check up just three years earlier and my heart was perfect. I run, I don't smoke, I'm not overweight, I have low cholesterol, and a low BMI, I eat organic, blah, blah, blah. So what could this dream mean? This dream means nothing according to my Doubting Thomas husband. "Dreams are just dreams- probably something you ate before you fell asleep" he says. He couldn't bear the thought of me having to undergo surgery. I told my sister and brother about the dreams and they weren't sure what to think either. The dream crossed my mind at least once a day over the past six months, until February when our local hospital offered 25 minute "lunch break" heart checks. I remembered the dream and thought, "why not?" So I went. Sure enough, I had  a low weight, low cholesterol, a low BMI, good blood sugar, and, ....wait... what? my EKG is abnormal? What does that mean? They did another one, and sure enough- that one was abnormal as well.

This tossed me into a whirlwind of a storm. A storm of numerous doctor's appointments, tests, more tests, tears, questions, genetic testing, and tons of research (note: don't Google what you think you may have- it will totally freak you out). I have blogged about my son's heart issues before, but the thought never occurred to me that I could be a genetic carrier of a rare heart gene that had passed on to him or my other son. I have never had heart problems.  I went back and forth from being angry at the universe and running to God. Back and forth--over and over. How could this happen? As the storm began last month- a storm with a lot of waves, a lot of emotional ups and downs- something beautiful began happening. Something I wasn't expecting. In between being angry yet hopeful (because of the dream), I began growing closer to the Lord in ways I could have never imagined. I mean really close. The Lord showed me what real joy is, and allowed me to feel it more than once.  He sent me three or four of the most wonderful and supportive women to help get me through. Women of strong faith and strong spiritual gifts. When my faith would waiver, their faith and their gifts picked up the slack. I knew that every breath I take and every beat of my heart is literally in His hands. I learned to completely trust God- and quite frankly, I had no choice. God sent me the dream. God was in charge. God orchestrates our lives.

This little heart check, potentially saved my life. If it wasn't for my dream, I would have never gotten checked out. I would have never caught this pesky little- or not so little- gene that I may be a carrier of, and I would have not been able to get treatment for it until it was too late. This dream... this angel in my dream was... I believe, sent by God-- regardless of what other people believe. Regardless if they doubt. So whenever the dark cloud of fear tries to overtake me,  I simply remember the dream. The angel said, "Do not fear- you will be okay". How many people can say that angels appear to them in dreams? Are you  a Doubting Thomas?  I'm not. I love the Lord with all that I am, and am so thankful that He sent me that dream. He loved me enough to send me a heavenly messenger to warn me about my heart, and for that I am forever grateful. If surgery comes, it comes. Technology is a wonderful thing--and because I am healthy, that works in my favor.  I already know and trust that I will be okay- thanks to God and that dream He sent. I thank Him, and am going to trust Him for turning something that could have been scary and ugly into something beautiful and totally supernatural.

1 Peter 5:10: And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.

Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Moving Mountains

I have never really observed the season of lent. It just was something my church acknowledged, but never really observed. Last year, in fact, was the first year I actually participated in lent, and that was because my oldest son asked me to "do it with him".  He gave up video games and I gave up coffee. Coffee of all things! My understanding of lent was, and still is, a time to grow spiritually closer to the Lord. For forty days and nights (and no- we did not cheat and take Sundays off. I never understood that part.)- we sacrificed things we really love. I couldn't wait for lent to be over last year. I missed my beloved coffee, and no- I didn't feel any closer to the Lord for doing so, nor did my son. So this year, I began praying and searching my heart for how I could observe lent, and grow closer to the Lord, and  teach my kids about God.

So this year for lent, the kids and I decided that we would not give something up, but that we would try something new. We have committed to reading from the bible every day for forty nights. We just started, and already they know the stories about Adam and Eve, Abraham, Jacob and Esau, Joseph and his brothers, and Moses and Passover. I too, am learning-- since I haven't read the old testament yet. It's actually a great way to end our day. That being said, I still felt like I needed to do something...else.

Truly, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, "Be taken up and thrown into the sea" and does not have doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. Mark 11: 23-24

I have two pretty large and significant mountains in my life right now. So this year for lent, I too didn't give something up, rather I committed myself to forty mornings, days, and nights of mindful prayer. I do believe God is larger than any mountain I will ever face, and I am trusting Him for a miracle. Lent just started, and I already feel closer to the Lord than I did last year during lent. Will the mountains be moved or even smaller after the forty days? Only God knows, but I will not stop praying or believing that He will indeed come through for me, and while I wait (which is the hardest part) He will give me just enough strength to hold on.

I am as impatient as they come. I also am a recovering perfectionist, so waiting and trusting in the silence that God sometimes gives, is difficult to say the least. Yet I still pray. I know God has a plan for me and my family, I just wish he would let me in on it--and yesterday, He may have. While in the kitchen, out of nowhere, my six year old son came running up to me and handed me a picture that he drew. At the top of the picture it read: God loves my mommy very much. I told him how sweet the picture was, and he said, "I was supposed to tell you that." When I asked what he meant, he said, "Sometimes God speaks through me mommy and I felt it inside my heart and had to tell you." (he tapped his heart after he said it.)  Honestly- this is what came out of the mouth of my six year old son.  I just stood there-- speechless. I taped the picture onto the wall in the kitchen for the whole world to see. I still can't believe what he said. It was as if God wanted me to know that, yes, He loves me, yes He hears me, and yes He has a plan. Just seeing that picture allows me to simply trust God in the silence, and to patiently wait for Him to move mountains.

A curse or a test?

My son- my first born- has an enlarged heart. I purposely don't talk a lot about it, because if I do I find myself being suffocated with darkness and fear. So I just block it out as if it doesn't exist at all; that is until he starts playing sports in the warmer weather. Finding out his heart was enlarged was by pure accident. He was being tested for asthma, and his EKG came back abnormal. You would never know if you met him. He is a healthy, happy, and kind 9 1/2 year old soul. A soul that longs to try out for tackle football. He has been asking to play tackle for two years now, and the answer has always been "no". I used every excuse in the book for him not to play, when the real reason is, I fear for his heart. I fear for his heart when he plays baseball, when he plays basketball, and worst of all when he runs in a track meet. When I am at a sporting event, and all the other moms are talking and socializing, I'm the mom who isn't saying much. Not because I am introverted (which I am), but because I am secretly, and continuously praying that my baby doesn't drop dead while playing.

I originally thought finding out about his heart was a curse, and maybe it was. I was destined to live in fear. Most people with his diagnosis never know they have this condition. There is no treatment and there is no cure. Well, tackle football try outs are quickly approaching for next year and guess what? Yep, you guessed it. He is begging to try out. Football is his true passion. All sports are, really. Just like that, I feel the darkness closing in around me, so much so, I feel like I can't breathe. I try and change the subject, but it doesn't work. I offer different sports to play. I tell him he likes to bowl and golf, so why not play those? He says he will play those but he really wants to try tackle football. I try talking him out of it by saying, "You know Logan, tackle football is very different than flag football". This doesn't work either. So now I have a very big choice to make. Tell him he can't play football, and risk jeopardizing my close relationship and bond we have, or I can give him to God and let him play. Hmmmm.

Yes, I thought finding out about his heart was a curse, and maybe it was originally. But now, God has turned it into a test-- a test of my faith. I had an honest to God dream once and Jesus came to me in it. He held up His hands and in each hand was one of my children. He clearly said that He has and will always have my children in the palm of His hands. It was an awesome dream--one that I think I was supposed to have and one that I hang onto with all my being.  This is what happens when God gives us free will. A dark diagnosis presented itself, and I have the free will choice to be controlling and prevent my son from playing (and possibly dying), or I can trust the Lord with the love of my life- my little first born boy- and let him play regardless of what could happen. Gulp. Tears well up in my eyes just typing that part. I lifted Logan up to God the other day and simply said, "Here. He's yours. I trust You. It's not easy, but I do." So I gave him, and his heart, to God, and began sobbing and praying circles that he ends up hating football. It's a possibility, right? Anything is possible with Jesus in control.

A lonely journey

Sharing your faith isn't something that comes naturally to me. At least not yet it isn't. I'm new to it, and as introverted as I tend to be, writing about my faith and my journey is easier and more comfortable than shouting from the rooftops. I'm safe and hidden within my computer, far from having to deal with face to face judgement from anyone. It's hard sharing your faith, when the old group of friends you still love, don't share your passion. It's hard sharing your faith, when there are some family members who think it's "just a phase" or me trying to be "better than them". They become uncomfortable, and then so do I. There's always that "uncomfortable silence" if Jesus, God, or anything spiritually is brought up.

The "Road to Enlightenment" can be a lonely one- that's for sure. But growing apart from old friends who don't support me, has allowed room for beautiful people to enter my life. People who DO support me- even if it's people I have never met and they send me messages via the computer.  Don't get me wrong-I'm thankful for that, but part of me is saddened by the strain my christianity has put on other relationships in my life. I have been very careful not to be "that christian". You know who I'm talking about. Those christians that try and shove their beliefs down your throat to the point you feel like hitting them over the head with their own bible. Those christians that are arrogant and somewhat judgemental. Those christians that are ready for battle when you disagree or question something they have said. Those christians that act as though they are "holier than thou" only to try and make you feel less of yourself. Those christians that don't actually live their faith. Those aren't my kind of christians, and I'm sorry if I have ever acted like that. That's not who I want to be. Perhaps, my friends or some of my family members think of me this way? I don't know. Gosh, I hope not.

Choosing to become a christian doesn't make me perfect. It doesn't mean I'll never sin again. It doesn't mean I don't know how to have fun anymore. It doesn't mean I'll never have a glass of wine again. It doesn't mean I am better than you. It simply means, that I made the choice put my life into the hands of Jesus. I did this because I think He'll do a better job at managing me than I was doing. I wrestle with my spirituality A LOT. I too, have many questions, and just because I chose to become a christian doesn't mean I have all the answers. I often fall short when trying to become a follower of Christ, and trust me,  I constantly berate myself for it. I can be an ugly perfectionist. I am on a journey to find the Lord. He's watching and reading- I honestly hope that. I hope He knows who I am, and who I want to be. I just wish the people closest to me did as well.

Can I get a witness?

Before I chose the Christian faith, I took some time to try and figure out what exactly it meant, who Jesus was, what the bible says, and many other things. For almost two years I wrestled with my spirituality, and on some days, I still do. Long story short, I gave my life to Christ, and was even baptized a month ago along side my nine year old, in front of almost 1000 people (not an easy feat for this introvert). Before the baptism, people stood up and shared their testimonies. Testimony. What's my testimony? I'm not sure. I don't know that I can define my coming to faith by one single experience. These people that shared, had really hard lives, and sad stories of what lead them to Christ. I'm thankful that I didn't live through what they went through. I have had several supernatural experiences that I believe came from God, but is that my testimony? I couldn't share that. The people closest to me didn't even believe me, so how could I think a thousand strangers would? They would think I was crazy. So I said nothing.

The word "witnesses" appears 39 times in the book of Acts. To be a witness means that we have seen, heard, or experienced something concerning God on a personal level. If you have experienced the Lord on some personal level in your life, then you are called to be a witness. You are called to share your testimony with others. You are called to let your light shine regardless of what others think about you, because it's not about them, it's about Him.  The point of being baptized, is publicly declaring to the world that you love the Lord and are not ashamed of it-regardless of how painfully introverted you are, or how far outside of your comfort zone you find yourself.  You become a witness of the Good News. The pastor then asked, "are you being a witness? God is calling you to be a witness in some way, shape, or form. Are you answering His call?"

Random Thoughts of a Wandering Mind is my chance to be a witness. It's a chance to bring hope, a smile, a good feeling, an encouraging word, and some inspirtaion as a witness for Jesus.  I was so self conscious when I created the page. What would people think of me? But today at church I got the message. It's not about them at all. It's not about me either. It's about Him. He has called me to be a witness, and I am trying the best that I can, to answer that call.

Matthew 5:16 Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.

Acts 22:15 For you shall be his witness unto men of what you have seen and heard

I'm never going to be Rocky

I recently blogged about 40 things I wanted to do this year to celebrate me turning 40 in July. One of the things I listed was to do an indoor triathalon. Chad does them all the time, in fact it was his idea to list that as one of my 40 things. Seemed reasonable at the time, so I put it on the list. Little did I know. Little did I know.

The very next morning, after my first cup of coffee (I don't usually start to function until after my second cup), "coach Chad" came bouncing out of the bedroom asking if I was "ready to start my training"?  Chad likes nothing better than coaching, and he's good at it. He coaches flag football, baseball, and swimming....for kids that is. Coaching me, however, is a different story. Chad is somewhat of an an athlete. I...am not. I don't "train" for things, I just kind of do them. IF I do anything at all.  I once ran a 5K for the Susan G. Komen race for the cure, and I thought I would die. Seriously. It was my first race, and it wasn't pretty. It kicked my asthma into overdrive and I was sick for weeks afterward. So me putting an indoor triathalon on my list of things to do, was done so on a whim. More to please him, than to please myself. So here we are, staring at each other in the living room- he in his workout clothes, and me in my jammies coffee still in hand. "Come, on we'll head up to the rec center and practice the swimming part" he says. Ugh. Swimming. I'm a runner, and I run because I enjoy it, not to compete. I am not a swimmer. Sure I'll splash around with the kids and hang out in the pool, but swim for exercise, like laps? No way. I don't enjoy that one bit, and then add my U.S. Swim Masters-coach husband to the mix barking orders of  everything I do wrong in the water equals a recipe for disaster.  I'm just trying to stay afloat! Swimming would surely be the hardest part of the triathalon for me.

Needless to say, after a sarcastic exchange of words, we ended up at the rec center. Swimming for twenty minutes straight with no break is a lot harder than it sounds. The banter beween the two of us wasn't pretty either. Chad was coaching like he was training Rocky, only I was Rocky. I ain't no Rocky. I whine, take breaks, take my time, stop and drink water....you catch my drift. After thirty minutes or so of "training", he called it quits. Apparently I won't be able to make a career out of being a competitive swimmer. Rats! But that brings me back to my list of 40 things, and the indoor triathalon I have listed on it. So, just to show him that I could indeed do an indoor triathalon, I signed up for one today. Good grief! What was I thinking? My pride got the best of me. That stupid pride that I have been trying so hard to get rid of. Now I have to swallow that pride and ask for his help training me, or I might find myself having to doggie paddle through the swimming part of the race. Stupid race. Stupid ugly swim cap he's going to make me wear. Stupid pride.

Proverbs 13:10 Pride only breeds quarrels, but wisom seeks advice

Proverbs 11:2 When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom