The Blank Canvas

A few weeks ago I tried to paint and nothing came out. I swirled colors around on the canvas for a few moments--still nothing. 
I heard a voice inside me say, "There is nothing broken left to heal."
Hmm... Interesting, I thought. Now there's something to think about. 
And think I did.

And as the weeks went by, I began to think about the path I have been on for these last four years. I reflected on my paintings and the writing I'd done and I clearly saw that almost all had been done to bring me one step closer to healing. Many times after a particular painting, I could almost "feel" the wholeness of my restored heart and soul taking form, but there would still be another painting waiting to be poured upon a canvas. More words waiting to be typed on a page.

Until now.

Over the last few days I realized I have truly come to the end of this path. I have sought God's healing presence in every way possible. Nearly four years ago I cried out to God asking Him to show me how to live again after a violence attack. My life had been spared, but I was merely existing. And today, as I take the step to leave this path of healing, I can say God answered that prayer. He is faithful, holy, true. The ultimate promise keeper.

I know I will still paint. Art is who I am. It is my passion.
I may still write. I am fairly good at it.
But I know that I will not write and paint from a place of brokenness.
Today I know that my testimony of God's glory may not be in a story I tell or the paintings I paint.
My REAL testimony of God's power and love will be simply LIVING MY LIFE.

There is a new path for me now. I am not sure what it looks like and I don't know where it will lead, but I know I am ready to walk.

Yea God!

I will give you back what you lost to the swarming locusts, the hopping locusts, the stripping locusts, and the cutting locusts. Joel 2:25 (NIV)

Yea God!

May I share a moment of thankfulness with you?  A Yea God moment, so to speak.

Before my ex husband tried to murder me, he butchered nearly 100 of my paintings.

In just 2 hours of rage, my life's work as an artist was gone. Tens of thousands of dollars thrown in a dumpster with the loss of paint, canvas and possible sale of 94 paintings. Thousands of hours wasted. My painted heart and soul shredded and tossed in the trash. He knew what he was doing. His crime was premeditated and intentional. In a phone message in reference to me fleeing his abuse and violence with our 5 week old daughter, he told me, "You took what I loved the most, now I will take what you love the most."

He was never charged with destruction of property. The court system never acknowledged ANY of my artwork destroyed by his hands. Why? He said I did it. And he said/she said doesn't hold up well in a trial.

One of the promises I have held tightly to for nearly 4 years is where the LORD says, “I will give you back what you lost to the swarming locusts, the hopping locusts, the stripping locusts, and the cutting locusts. Joel 2:25 (NIV) God promises He will restore what is taken. Give back what was lost. And even through the years where I could never fathom any good coming from such violence and lost, I chose to believe God's promises. He is the ultimate promise keeper, you know!

And He has been faithful. Over the last few years, as my life and heart have been restored, so have other things that were taken from me. Specifically, my artwork. No, the magic canvas fairy hasn't deposited 100 blank slates on my doorstep. (But I'm still hoping for that one.)

I am so thankful, because this week marks the launch of a company I have helped found.

Yea God Ministries is an organization that will GIVE to those in need in order to become the hands and feet of Christ. Kind of like the premise behind Toms Shoes, we have a product, we sell it, and we give profits to other ministries to order to help others. We may not be the greatest deal price wise. You might be able to find cheaper products. But the real purchase is a gift to someone in need. And you walk away with a cute product to show for it! Two years of work has gone into developing this non-profit organization and this week, a dream has finally become a reality!

But for me personally, there is more. And that's why I am sharing this with you. You see, my artwork is the Yea God line of hats (and t-shirts coming soon) My artwork is on the packaging and even the company logo. My art has been RESTORED in a way that I could never have imagined. Someone wearing a Yea God hat or t-shirt will have a MESSAGE to share. That message will be ALIVE-- traveling and reaching others. These products will GIVE HOPE and resources to those in need.

Four years ago, nearly 100 paintings hung on my walls and lay stacked in a storage closet. They didn't have a message. They didn't give life. They didn't provide hope.

But now they do.

Sure, I still paint artwork that hangs on my walls. But this picture of life giving RESTORATION is one that only God could paint.

Yea God! 

Visit us on Facebook! 

Broken Wings

Yet those who wait for the LORD Will gain new strength; They will mount up with wings like eagles, They will run and not get tired, They will walk and not become weary. Isaiah 40:31

The little bird was lying in front of my glass door. Unmoving. Her brilliant colored feathers still. Her lovely voice singing no more. She was silenced.
It didn’t take much deduction to figure out what happened. I could see by the angle of her broken wing.
She had flown with all her might into the glass door, damaged her delicate body, broken her fragile wing, and died. Right there. On my doorstep.

And now, I had to dispose of a beautiful creature.
In my sadness, I couldn’t help but question the situation. Why had this sweet bird flown into my door? Didn’t she see it was closed? Maybe she didn’t realize the door was closed. Maybe she didn’t even see the door. It was, after all, transparent.

A picture formed in my mind of the beautiful bird, desperately beating and flapping her wings as she flung herself against the glass door. Over and over.
And in that moment, I saw myself.

How many times in my life have I continued knocking on a closed door?

Hoping and praying with all my might the door would open. Thinking what lies on the other side was best for me; I nearly beat the door down in determination.

Or maybe like my own glass door, the door I encountered was transparent. Looking through the glass, I caught a glimpse of what was on the other side and wanted it so badly. THAT place was where I was meant to go. THAT purpose was what I was meant to do. THAT person was who I was meant to be with. So, with all my might--all my force, I plunged headstrong into THAT only to smash against an invisible wall. I no longer focused on what was behind me—the vast, blue sky meant for flying. Forgetting my ability to turn around and fly, my entire focus became a vain attempt to have something that wasn’t meant for me to begin with. And I beat and flapped my wings trying desperately to go through those transparent doors only to grow tired. Weak. Discouraged. Broken. Even bloodied.

If only I could tell that beautiful creature, “Oh, little bird. Turn around. Spread your wings and fly into the blue sky. You were created for so much more than a cage you thought would give you freedom.”

Heavenly Father, your word tells me I am your beautiful creation, more valuable than the birds in the sky and the lilies in the field. Your promises remind me I am worthy of the wonderful things you desire to give me. Yet so often I become focused on what I think is best for my life. I think I have it all figured out. I’ve thought your will was within my reach, only to end up silenced and broken, growing weary and weak as I helplessly beat my wings against closed or transparent doors. Help me trust in your plans for me. Renew my strength and faith as I wait patiently upon you, God. Because I know that it is only through you that I can truly FLY.

Amen.

Control

He who guards his lips guards his life, but he who speaks rashly will come to ruin. Proverbs 13:3 (NIV)

This is a tough one to write.
Basically, because I feel pretty lousy. I did something wrong. I used the gifts that God has given me in a way that goes against why I've been given them. Not to lift someone up. Not to proclaim God’s glory, goodness, and transformational power. Not to teach and reach others for Christ. No, I used my God given gift of expression in such a way that I hurt someone.

I thought I was more self aware.
I thought I had more self control.
I didn’t control my emotions. I let them control me.

Pride would let me off the hook. Hey, you didn’t carelessly throw words around intentionally designed to inflict pain. You didn’t call names.
I bet right now you're asking "Girl, just what exactly did you do?"
Well, let me sum it up with my small country town roots for ya’ll: I really didn’t go all out redneck on someone and cuss them up one side and down the other. I didn’t fly off the handle and act all hormonal and totally irrational. Yet, I was experiencing some intense emotions: insecurity, hurt, and fear. And without taking a moment to step away, I let all the emotions spill out. I painted a picture with my words, used my gifts so to speak, in a way that was not designed to bring hope and glory to God.

I didn’t build up with my words.
I didn’t show compassion with my words.
I didn’t give grace with my words.
I didn’t control my emotions. I let them control me.

Pride would still let me off the hook. But, you have every right to express yourself! You have every right to share your pain. These are your feelings. They are yours and you are valuable.

Sure they are. Sure it is. Sure I am.
But what really makes me valuable?
Not my feelings, but Christ. He is at the root of all I am and all long to be, yet I didn’t even ask Him how to see the situation! I didn’t go to His word. I didn’t pray to be His vessel with these words I was using. In this instance, I didn’t allow Him to be alive in me.
I didn’t control my emotions. I let them control me.

Pride would again let me off the hook. But Michelle, come on. Was it really that bad? Did you really say terrible things? Seriously, you’re beating yourself up here. Taking on blame and responsibility that you don’t need.

Whatever, Pride. Sure there is some partial truth there, but to really die to myself and to have a heart like Christ’s is the only reason I live. And I blew that big time. Instead of wasting time and energy creating self righteous excuses and indignation to cover up mistakes I have made and areas where I can grow, I can just swallow that pride and take ownership of my actions. To me, that is true responsibility.

Over the last several years growing in my faith, I have learned the way to control emotions is though our minds. And to do that, our minds must be saturated in God’s word and truth. Like the student approaching the teacher after the test wanting to change her answer, "But God, I knew that!"  No, Michelle, apparently you didn't. You slipped.
The hurt was too deep. I needed to have my voice, my feelings, and my pain heard. I didn’t go to God or His word. I simply reacted in the midst of my pain.
I didn’t control my emotions. My emotions took complete control of me.

God asks us to remain in the spirit. And for me, it’s the place I long to dwell. “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.”(Galatians 5:22-23). Did ya’ll catch that self-control part?
I needed this painful reminder to submit my non-spirit centered emotions to God. And along with the Holy Spirit, He will bring about appropriate emotions based on His truth.
I will give God my emotions. And let Him and His truth take complete control of me.

Heavenly Father,

this whole temporary experience on earth is a classroom designed to teach us and mold us into the image of your son, Jesus. This school is tough. The lessons hard and sometimes they hurt. I try to be a good student. Often, I can memorize and regurgitate the information, but sometimes it is so hard to actually live the lesson. I pray you will help me not only learn these lessons in emotions, but BE them. Let me relinquish control and submit them to you, the Professor, for a complete revision before turning my emotional papers out into the world only to receive a poor grade.

And lastly, least I forget, like all good superheroes, help me to always use my God given powers for good and glory.

In Christ's name I pray, Amen.

 

Kicking and Screaming

 Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. Matthew 16:24-25 (NIV)

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. Psalm 51:17 (NIV)

Most mornings in my home begin with kicking and screaming. No, not me, but my toddler diva. Each morning I pray to maintain my patience as my little one attempts to get dressed for school. Oh, we’ve done specific outfits for her to choose from. I have tried a timer and dressed her myself when the buzzer chimed. I have taken away toys and privileges. Time out. Spankings. Even put her in the car naked. Yes, I’ve done it all and still, there is kicking and screaming as this strongwilled child is forced to comply with mommy’s expectations and law. Do you feel my pain? Can you commiserate? (Insert prayer here if you feel led!)


Maybe it’s your teenager constantly pushing the boundaries and limits of curfew. It may be worse than pushing limits. It may be complete and total rebellion.

The dictionary defines obedience as compliance with someone's wishes or orders or acknowledgment of their authority and submission to a law or rule. Whether you have a toddler or a teen, as their parent, knowing what is best for them and forcing them to comply is always difficult even though necessary for their safety and character development and done completely out of love.

But this blog is not a lesson in being a better parent. It’s on being a more obedient child.

Let’s get real for a moment. Have you ever been asked to do something and you simply didn’t want to do it. Inconvenient. Not fun. Too much time. Maybe you just rebelled completely and simply did not do what was being asked. Or maybe you complied, but not willingly. More like cursing under your breath the whole time. You know that teenager grumbling and stomping up the stairs kind of feeling?
But what if what you were being asked to do was not by your employer, teacher, parent or some other figure of authority. What if the request was from God himself? What if He asked you to do something that would not be fun or easy? What if you had to actually die to yourself in order to do His will? By dying to yourself, I mean, denying your own wants, your selfish desires, and stepping out of your comfort zone to do what is requested. Could you? Would you? Even if you knew it was best for you? Even if it gave you new life? Gave someone else new life? I mean if it’s God asking you, it has to be right, wouldn’t you think?

Throughout my life, God has asked me to do several things that I did not want to do. I know all too well the feeling that my little girl so frequently experiences. In the end, I did what He asked because of Who was doing the asking, but quite frankly, I went kicking and screaming! My spirit was neither obedient nor willing. I actually felt like I was being dragged by my heels and my fingernails were scraping lines in the hardwood floors as my spirit tried in vain to rebel against what my logical mind knew as right and true. Talk about a big girl tantrum rebelling against God's authority, law and rule.
But this obedience is going to cost me thousands of dollars I don’t have!
But this obedience is going to be embarrassing.
But this obedience is going to hurt ME!
All about me.
Selfish me.

For my good.
For His Glory.
Obedience and submission to God works that way, and after time, I could see the bigger picture.

Obedience has gotten easier for me. Typically, I don't think twice. Yet, as God has asked something of me this week, I have felt that rebellious spirit creeping in. Ironically, He asked this of me after I prayerfully asked Him to show me how to love selflessly. Be careful what you pray for folks.“Seriously, God? Let’s rethink this. I know I asked, but I really didn’t think you’d answer that way. This isn't what I wanted!” But I know what He is asking is truth. And although the request is not fun, does not feel good, and in fact makes my heart feel very heavy and lost, I am no longer kicking and screaming. I know I must obey.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t pout just a little.

Dear Heavenly Father, I am your child. I am rebellious, disobedient and oh, so selfish. But despite my humanity, I know that you love me and know what is best for me in all things. I pray that you will help me continue to die to myself so that I may have abundant life and a future in you. In Jesus' precious name I pray, Amen.

The Full Length Mirror

Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies. 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 (NIV)

I enjoyed being pregnant. I would marvel at my growing belly. I loved to feel the butterflies, kicks and hiccups. I loved to put my hands on my belly and just watch the little elbows and heels move around. I could barely fathom the miracle that was happening inside of me as this little life began to grow and form.

Can I just say that I was so cute when I was pregnant with my daughter? I started the pregnancy as a size 10 and I only gained about 35lbs. Not too shabby for a 40 year old, if I must say so myself! My hair got so shiny and the curls were awesome. My skin was flawless. And true to what folks say about pregnant women, I was glowing. I thought my whole curvy figure was marvelous, if you know what I mean!

To the outside world, I was alive, beautiful and healthy. But inside the four walls of my home and inside my heart, my self image began to crumble when the words of an abusive husband took root. I thought pregnant wives were to be cherished. Thought beautiful because of the growing child and what a husband and wife created together in love. Yet, I never received any of those sentiments or feelings. In his eyes, I was never the beautiful woman that bore his child. I was something quite different.

He was at the mirror shaving as my 6 month pregnant body stepped out of the shower. We'd been fighting. And this particular day, his words were his weapon. His eyes looked up and down the length of my growing body and he said as his gaze lingered on my belly, "When are you going to finally start exercising?"

I couldn't show the devastation I felt. If I cried or expressed hurt because his words, there would be a price to pay. So, I swallowed down the pain.

This was not the be the one and only carefully timed comment designed to hurt his wife. The bigger I got, the words became uglier. During arguments I was told I disgusted him. I repulsed him. His use of pornography escalated and he made it clear that I was too fat and disgusting to be intimate with. He didn't want to sleep with me. He was sickened by me. During my pregnancy, I was also physically abused, my mouth and nose bloodied. Later, when our daughter was born, the abuse was even worse. Now there was no baby in my body, just loose skin, stretch marks, move varicose veins and about 30 lbs to lose. Fat. Lazy. Worthless. Disgusting. Even coming home unannounced just to see what I had eaten that day. Counting the food in the pantry. Telling me to get outside with this baby and walk regardless that it was 102 degrees in July and my stitches pulled after only giving birth a week and a half earlier.

Journal entry 3-5-08. Six months pregnant.

As I began to explore the idea of writing a Bible Study for women who have been victimized, I began to dive into research regarding the effects of abuse. Sure, I completely understood the lack of trust. The levels of fear. Regaining one's voice and finding one's power. I got all that. In fact, I'd experienced those things to such a degree I could write a book on it. Literally. But the one thing I had never addressed was the loathing of my appearance--more specifically, my body.

Research shows that victims of abuse have difficulty accepting and loving their bodies. As I began to read, that small bit of data made so much sense to me. My body, especially my pregnant body, was the recipient of verbal abuse, hatred, rage and even physical abuse by the man who had professed to love me for all time. Just as this research stated, "Victims often associate their bodies with abuse." I realized I have ignored my body for years. I have not loved or cared for it. For nearly four years I have neglected my body. Rarely a haircut. No new clothes. No girly perfume or spa days. No pampering. I didn't care about me. I certainly had no desire to exercise or make my physical body look better. I didn't even care about being healthy. Why? I now understood that my body was a shell that reminded me of all the hurt and pain that I'd experienced, so I had chosen to ignore it. 

*****
I had lunch last week with an old friend. A strong man of God. A man who has struggled with his health and his weight and who now runs to give glory to God. During our conversation, I confided in my friend that I felt I strived to be a good steward of all the things in my life. My home, my child, my finances. I'd given God the glory for my restored mental and emotional health. I testified to the power of God for healing and restoring a broken heart and giving me the strength to trust and love. Yet the one area I had not touched was my physical temple. I'd known I hadn't cared for my body for a long time. I knew I needed to make a change. And I realized that day I was ready to cast aside that association of my body with abuse. I was ready to value my entire being, not just my mind or my heart or my soul, but my entire self and use the whole package to give glory to God. I could no longer let someone elses words, hate and self loathing, devalue this last piece of me.

I am ready to be whole and that final step towards wholeness is to love my body--even in the full length mirror.

And today, much to my own surprise, I stepped outside and ran.

Dear Lord, I long to live a life that brings glory to you in all things. From the words that I speak, to the life that I live, to the body in which I dwell. Your word tells me I was bought with a price and I long to never let that sacrifice have been in vain. In Jesus' name, Amen.

My Valentine Choice

Just another day. Being single didn't bother me. I'd long ago accepted I may never again receive flowers or some other colorful, happy sentiments of love. There wasn't any cynicism in my heart regarding pink and red hearts, balloons, or roses. In fact, I could even be happy for those who were in love without feeling the urge to roll my eyes.

Just another day.
Starbucks on the way to work.
And a tiny 3 year old voice from the back seat said, "Mommy, I wish I had a daddy."

I froze. It was the million dollar question that I knew one day would come. And that day was February 14th, 2012. Happy Valentine's Day to me, right?

Funny, the knife of loss didn't plunge into my heart like I'd always wondered if it would. In fact, I didn't even cry. I didn't feel guilt, pain, or grief over dreams that had long ago died. No, my little princess may never have a daddy to twirl her round and round at a father-daughter dance. No, my sweet daughter may never have a daddy to walk her down the aisle. Amazingly enough, I was ok with those things. What was I thinking? Why didn't this moment rip my heart in two? Wasn't this moment supposed to bring me to my knees?

CHOICE

No, not in that moment on Valentine's Day did I make the choice. But somewhere along the winding path that led to that moment, I'd begun to make choices. The most important one being to once again believe promises.

I could've chosen to drown in self pity and constantly question why me? Why us? But I chose to trust.
Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:6 (NIV)

I could've chosen to live in loss and grief and pain. But I chose to delight in my life.
Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:4 (NIV)

I could've chosen to look backwards towards regrets. Instead, I chose to hope for our future!
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. Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

I made the choice to trust. To hope. To delight in my life. In our lives. Our future.
The question still hung in the air, "Mommy, I wish I had a daddy."

Smiling, I put aside my coffee and turned to her and said, "Oh, honey, you do have a daddy. You have a heavenly Father. In fact, He is a King and you are His beautiful, precious Princess. And like your mommy, He makes really good choices. He chose you for me!"

And with a typical three year old attention span, she told me she wanted a puppy.

And all around me-My barefoot princess twirls and sings-It's so amazing-Looking back at all God's brought us through-You are my happy birthday-And you were born to break the chains!