Spirit lead me
Have you wondered yet what it truely means to be feminine? To be a woman? It is a journey to find the heart of a woman. It is a journey to find our very own heart in a world screaming against us in so many ways. And to find if our heart matters. It is a journey into the heart of God first. Then finding who we are in Him. "Be still and know.." This admonishment comes to us from the Bible but it is countered by so many other sources. The pace of our life, the constant call of social media, our children, husbands, job, friends. Oh so you have time for a hobby? A social life? Sleep? Life can be so busy!!!!!!! But, God never intended for us to be so busy. We whittle away at our time, energy, and joy to make the mark. It's what we are supposed to do, right? What we have to do? No. No. No. That word.....no.....is a powerful word. It can be against us, but it can actually be FOR us too!! Start using it to protect your time. Weigh out your responsibilities and your "to do" list. One piece of advice that revolutionized my priorities was this, "the squeaky wheel is not always the most important one" What is yelling the loudest in your life? Is that thing or person or media you give the most of yourself to really the most important? "Be still and know....." It is hard. It is necessary. But the last part is that verse is the key "that I am God." Do you have a time everyday you have carved out to meet with Him? That is the place you will begin to connect with your own heart. Through seeking His. Challenge yourself to read a chapter of the book of James each day this week. Write down your thoughts, questions, and if you feel God moving. It will be the best time you spend all day. "Lord find me." This is my daily cry. I hope it is yours as well.
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Warning....content may be offensive to some.
Recently I was asked to participate in a blog series on living authentically for God. I chose to write about an experience that forever altered the landscape of several lives....mine included. This post is a journal entry from February 13, 2013. It is about my experience with abortion. Since I do not know who will read this or what your experience has been, please know I am just sharing my thoughts and they are independently mine. I welcome questions and comments, but if they are derogatory or profane or hurtful they will be deleted. February 13, 2013 Today I am trapped in a hell of my own making. A place where no matter how many times you say you are sorry….no matter how many wishes you make to undo what has been done….there is no going back. No relief from the nagging remorse, because the person that I need to apologize to the most is not here. Thirteen years ago today I stepped into an abortion clinic and willingly surrendered the life growing inside of me. Pieces of that day are stuck in my head in a sort of suspended, warped photo album. The first glimpse is of the waiting room and the silent people sitting uncomfortably in chairs. Each one never looking around at the other, staring blankly at whatever they held in their hands. In the end I assure you it is a vain attempt to distract yourself. You KNOW what is going on on the other side of that wall….maybe you don’t fully understand….but, you know. Second, a glimpse of the counseling room as my blood pressure is taken and I sign a waiver stating that I know what I am asking them to do. It reads like a medical procedure…like knee surgery….you may suffer injury, loss of blood, loss of life. They are talking about my life….there is no real mention of the baby, only the “pregnancy.” I never looked into the eyes of the woman I was talking to. Somehow I had to stay disconnected or I might cave and change my mind. Third, the room where you wait and they give you juice and cookies to make sure your blood sugar level is up I suppose. I don’t know what to call this place. It’s like a warped, uncomfortable social event. There were about five other women in this room nervously looking around and trying to make small talk. Laughable really. Like there is an invisible need to act like this is normal. I remember a pretty blond girl sitting beside me chatting away. The only thing I remember her saying is that she had been there 11 other times. Eleven….let that sink in. I did. And it put the fear of God in me for half a second I thought, “God forgive me.” Next, the exam room. It was a lot like the room you would sit in at the doctor’s office. Sterile in appearance with an exam table and a chair in the corner. But, don’t miss this. It is probably the second saddest part of the whole day. It is the moment that I ridiculously bowed my head and knee in front of that chair in the corner of the room and prayed. I prayed. Prayed? Prayed. But, it was pretty much to the chair because I know that had I really prayed to God, I would have stood up and walked out of the room and not back to the table to put on that gown. I prayed, “ god, please forgive me for what I am about to do,” for what I was determined to do. Erase the stigma, the shame, the fear. More on how that worked out later. A few minutes later I was led to the procedure room. It was a pretty small room in retrospect. Too small, really, to hold the whole dynamic of it’s purpose. But, as I lay there on that table and saw the people in their masks and the machines, I had no real excuse for what I was doing. Just that I HAD to. That was it. I was here. Here we go. One IV and the whole thing was over. It felt like I only closed my eyes. Paused for one moment and it was done. Irrevocably done. The last memory of that day is waking up in the recovery room to someone calling my name over me. Encouraging me to wake up and have more juice. Saying the anesthesia would wear off soon and I would be ready to go. There were a dozen other full beds in that room. So many. So many. Too many. The person in charge came around and, by now, I was more awake. I was given a pill and release papers. The pill was for the bleeding that was sure to come in a couple of days. “If it gets too bad take this pill to help it slow down.” If it got worse I was to go to the emergency room. And that was the end. We got back in the car and started back home where my mom was watching my other two beautiful children so my husband and I could go on a “date.” Lies. So, today I am stuck. For the majority of the 13 years, no one has known except for myself, my husband, and my best friend. Now, many people do. It is my ministry to make sure others know so that they can make different choices. I killed my baby. You don’t have to. There are so many other choices that are out there. First, don’t get pregnant if you are not ready to be a parent. There are plenty of family planning methods that are safe and very effective. Second, there are other options if you do get pregnant. Options that value your life and the life that grows inside of you. You cannot get away from the stigma….the shame…the fear by having an abortion. YOU CANNOT. They stay. Only then you have guilt and the shame and weight of death to add to the list. If you are pregnant or think that you are call a Pregnancy Care center in your area and talk to someone. They are there to help you. Really, really help you. They are not getting paid for what they do. The abortion clinics are. They will look you in the eye and listen to you. The abortion clinics likely won’t. They will ask you to consider life over death. I ask you to also. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life |
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