Author Archives: Christy McMakin

The Webster’s dictionary defines time as: (A): the measured or measurable period during which an action, process, or condition exists or continues (B): a nonspatial continuum that is measured in terms of events which succeed one another from past through present to future

The Rolling Stones sing that time is on our side while Cher wishes that she could turn back time. Leave it to Jim Croce and he would put time in a bottle while Tommy Shaw contemplates over having too much time on his hands. Famous quotes proclaim, “Time is free, but it’s priceless. You can’t own it, but you can use it. You can’t keep it, but you can spend it. Once you’ve lost it you can never get it back.”

When I am overwhelmed with a list of to-do’s, I may spout out “There just isn’t enough time in the day!” When birthdays roll around and I reflect back on the years that have passed, turning my sweet little babies into blossoming adults, I whisper, “where has the time gone?”  When we are missing someone, time may seem unbearable but when we are lying in our lover’s arms, time is eternal.

This morning by accident I clicked on something and my Facebook timeline went back from the present and flashed before me the years of 2009 and 2010. At first I was aggravated, stupid computer! But then I took a few moments to read over some of the things that I had posted almost three years ago. Wow. I laughed, I cried, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. My heart leaped within me and then it broke into pieces. Ahh, the memories that had been recorded. My oh my how time had changed some things and how some things still remained the same. What a privilege it was to reflect back on some of the best times and some of the worst times of my life so far.

Time is something that we all are granted yet it is something that we can’t control. Like sands through the hourglass, it simply passes without prejudice or favor to anyone. I have known only once in history that time has ever really “stood still” (Joshua 10:13) and only once when time was literally turned back (Isaiah 38:7 –bet that caused a ruckus!!) So for the rest of us, we are at the mercy of the ticking clock. 24 hours a day, 60 minutes every hour and 60 seconds every minute. As much as I would like to say sometimes, “hold up a second!” and everything freeze like it does in space cadet movies, I realize that despite my outbursts, the clock just keeps moving ahead and doing what it was created to do.

I’m a firm believer that someone much bigger than myself is the giver and taker of time and He has allotted me and every other human being a specific measurement on the invisible line between the beginning dot and the ending dot. I debated with Him this morning that the concept of time was like an oxymoron. Whether I spent it wisely, or wasted it, it still passed. Whether I cherished every moment or dreaded the passing hour, it still passed! Whether I welcomed each day with a smile or growled as I got out of bed, the hours still passed without any ado and once the hours were gone, there was no turning back. Only a forward motion to another day, that was, yep, inevitably going to pass. Needless to say, I found myself a little frustrated.

In the midst of my worked up emotional state of being (yeah I know, what else is new, right?) the God of all creation took the time to remind me of something extraordinary about Himself. Although in His sovereignty, He has chosen to put a measure on the length of our days, He is not bound by the limits of time. A day to Him is as a thousand years and a thousand years as a day. He tells me in Psalm 139 that somewhere in the portals of eternity, He wrote a book on my life. Then at the appointed time, He formed me in the dark place of my mother’s womb and fearfully and wonderfully made me. I am positive that there have been many moments over the years of my life that I have leaped right off the pages of His book and carelessly penned some pages of my own. I’m thankful that His grace and forgiveness can dispose of those poorly written chapters and mercifully put me back in the place I belong.

He took a few moments to remind me that, to Him, it isn’t important how much time I have been given. However it is imperative of what I choose to do with it. Absolutely no one is put here for the raw sake of taking up space. God is not careless like that. Space is infinite to Him, and if by chance He ran out, well He can just create some more!

To Him, it is about purpose. And although each and every single human being has a different destiny to fulfill, we all have the same purpose; He wants us to know Him. To live my life as a great success; beautiful, rich, famous, wanting nothing – yet not knowing Him, I have not gained a single thing. To live desolate and depraved, homeless and hungry – never turning to Him, the tragedy isn’t in my poor circumstances, yet in the fact that I never knew Him. As I sat down again today and looked back over the memories of the years I had recorded on my social network page, there was one thing for certain. HE had been there every day! Through every heartache and every joy. Each moment of laughter and each tear that had been shed. Sometimes He stood in front of me clearing the way. Sometimes He was behind me holding me up. Sometimes He was embracing me, calming my fears. And sometimes He was standing back a little watching me as I went along. But ALL the times, He was there. Never a moment passed that I was without Him.

I have no idea how much time I have left here living out the life of this wonderful, emotionally clad creature that He made me. I surely can’t promise that I will spend all of my time wisely. However, I am certain of this one thing, I don’t want one moment of time to pass without Him. I need His presence more than I need air in my lungs. Thank you beautiful Lord for spending this precious time of reflection with me today!

She was a peculiar creature. Always seeing the world around her so much different than those she knew. There was so much passion that seethed through every cell of her being, it was impossible to suppress. There wasn’t anything she just saw, it had to be embraced, felt, and ciphered through the portals of her mind. To have a dollar for every emotion she exerted over a stranger whose countenance spoke volumes of a story that was left unread. A radiant blue sky. A broken seashell. A friend’s despair or a child’s accomplishment.  A summer breeze and an Autumn thunderstorm.  The memory that invaded her moment and refused to leave until she acknowledged its place. The song that spoke to that secret place in her heart.

It was a yin/yang way to live. At times the emotions were so elating that life couldn’t seem any better. And other times the heaviness that weighed upon her was unbearable. Nothing was simple. Absolutely everything had to be expressed. It was a risky way of life. There were those precious few that embraced her for all that she was, that looked beyond the surface and warmed themselves from the fires that burned deep within. Some were brave enough to stoke the coals, inspiring her to be more. Then there were those who didn’t understand. Who judged and ridiculed, who felt the need to smolder the fire and snuff out the flame. Ah, the wounds they carelessly carved into such a fragile heart. There were countless times she prayed to the One who had made her – “please change me! My heart can’t bear any more.” Yet she knew that change wasn’t dare worth the connections she would miss, so she would retract her pleadings, and submit  once again to His sovereignty that ruled her world.

She was a hopeful creature. Although life had seemed many of times to treat her like the bastard child, still each day she arose with the insane idea that surely something good would happen. “Look on the bright side” was her motto. Those around her whose world was blackened by anger and bitterness, they would demand that she take off those rose colored glasses! But roses were red, and red was her favorite color.” Life isn’t a fairy tale!” reality would shout, but she liked fairy tales and was she was determined that her ending would be worth every effort she put forth so valiantly.

She lived, she laughed, and she loved. Oh how she loved! Her biggest flaw was that she lacked caution and she gave it all. Whether it was to the stranger at the bank, the friend that her soul was entwined with or to the lover that possessed her heart, she felt like nothing less than a criminal if she dare held back any part of her. It was puzzling to many and brought well meant chastisement at times, but she was driven by a lover that began wooing her before the foundations of the world came into existence, who paid the ultimate price just to call her his own. How on earth could she give any less?

She was a damaged creature. Wounds had left scars that were forever penned upon the pages of her story.  Early in life rejection, loneliness and worthlessness visited her often.  They would come to her like long lost friends and compel her to entertain them. She felt it necessary to hide away within herself, but time, healing and wisdom had taught her it was okay to refuse these unwanted guests and send them back to the crevice they belonged in. Her scars seemed to attract kindred spirits and somehow in the intricate plans of eternity, they became beautiful. She no longer hid them nor displayed them, she just let them remain for whatever purpose her Creator allowed them to be imparted. Her heart would ache when she would encounter familiar wounds lingering in the presence of others. A need would rise up in her like a gladiator to fight and conquer those desolate enemies and impart strength and value to another weary, tattered soul.

She was everything that she was, nothing more and nothing less. Like the potter molds his clay, all that had came to pass had molded her. She had a peace that had fought its way through chaos. A hope that had bore the test of sadness and despair. Beauty, that had somehow through the act of enormous grace, been formed from ashes and a strength that came rushing like a mighty wind when weakness threatened to take her captive. She was confident that she was nothing, yet in a plan that was formed before the foundations of the world came into existence, she was everything and that was all she knew.

Anyone that knows me knows that one of my favorite places to be is at the ocean. It is a love affair that began several years ago when I took my babies to the beach for their first time. Although I had visited Florida as a young child and had gone to Myrtle once as a teenager, I had very little recognition of the trips. It wasn’t until July 5^th 2004 that this wonderful romance was set aflame. My babies were so excited when we arrived to our destination and we hurriedly ran down to take our first walk on the sandy shore. I vividly remember it as if it were yesterday; the fresh smell of the salty air, the gentle breeze upon my skin and the warmth that penetrated my every being.  I stood there in amazement as I gazed out as far as the eye could see, beholding the vastness of the ocean and watching as the water formed waves that rushed ever so politely to the shoreline, spilling over my bare feet. It was as if the God of heaven spoke in His still small voice, “this is where I was standing when I said, ‘This far and no farther will you come. Here your proud waves must stop!” (Job 38:11). Oh how my heart was smitten and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I had found ta special place that I wanted to visit often!  Our vacations now consist of a yearly trip to the ocean. The geographical destination may change some, but I can’t explain the excitement that bubbles up in me as I anticipate my return to the place where my heart feels at home and my spirit feels at rest.

One of the things I like to do while vacationing is look for sea shells. I love all of them with their many shapes, sizes and colors and no matter how many I already have, I always like to take a new collection home with me.  One morning on our most recent vacation, way before the sun had made its appearance over the horizon; I awoke with a plethora of things weighing on my mind.  Instead of tossing and turning, I decided it was the perfect time for a walk/run so I snuck out quietly and off I went headed to the pier that was on the other side of eternity (well maybe not that far, but after running/walking to and from it with sand in my tennis shoes, it surely felt like it was eons away!)

My walks are always a two-fold mission – exercise and prayer time and I couldn’t think of a more perfect place to walk and talk with my Father.  As soon as my feet hit the sand, I was saturated with the awareness of His presence. My troubled thoughts became praises of awe and wonder at the beauty that surrounded me.  My spirit sang within me and like a child on a treasure hunt I whispered, “Oh Lord, let me find something spectacular this morning. Something you like. Something you can speak to me from. Something straight from your hand to mine.”

I was determined to make it all the way to the pier so the journey there consisted of no stops along the way. I walked, I ran, I ran, and I walked until finally, with sheer diligence I made it. I took a snapshot to prove my accomplishment to my crew, and after a few deep breathes I set out to return homeward, this time taking the time to enjoy the scenery and search for the treasures. There were so many pretty shells laying on the sand, I wanted to hoard up every one of them but each time I was inclined to bend down to grab one, a gentle voice would say,  “no not that one.”  I continued on with my search until I saw it.  Lying in the midst of all the others was this one particular shell that stood out like a sore thumb. I knelt down to take a closer look. It was obvious that this weathered shell had experienced many years of being tossed to and fro at the mercy of the waters. There were lines and cracks endured from the pressures of the sea however the foundation of the shell was still intact. Its colors had been dulled by the friction of the sand. There were places it had been broken but not utterly destroyed.

As I picked it up and held it in my hands I was intrigued by its story. Where had it been? How many miles had it traveled, enduring the weight of waters afflictions? What had it looked like when it was whole?  What had once thrived inside of it using its walls as a place of refuge? How did it get here? How many people had walked by as it lay unnoticed? How long had it laid dormant with no sense of hope or purpose? What about it captured my attention? A random seashell had suddenly become the focus of everything that was in me.

With that still small voice that I hear clearer than anything in my life, He said, “Isn’t it spectacular?”

Well, I guess so Lord. But why, out of the hundreds of shells within my sight, why this one? It’s not even a whole shell. There are plenty that don’t even have the slightest crack.

Thus began the lesson on broken things. Yes, time had tossed it to and fro. Yes it had lines and cracks from the pressures of the sea and its luster had been dulled by the friction of the sand. Yes, there were places that it had been broken but it wasn’t destroyed. Many had overlooked it and some may even deem it useless now. But the truth was that God had made it and it belonged to Him.  He knew what it looked like in the beginning and in His eyes it was still as beautiful as ever. This shell had served many purposes in the past and on this day a new purpose had blossomed.  When, to me it appeared to be completely out of place, to God it was exactly where He wanted it to be.

That morning the most spectacular thing on the beach was this shell and of all the people there God wanted me to have it. Only He knew the things that were weighing in my heart. Only God knew how to penetrate the scars that at times seem to seethe as a fresh wound in my soul. He knew which shell to place before me and only He could show me the beauty that He sees in broken things. Without any ado for those around me, I stood there for a moment and wept. Tears that healed. Tears that refreshed. Tears that strengthened. Tears that reminded me that I wasn’t any different than that old, cracked spectacular shell.

I have recently begun meeting with a Small group/Bible Study through my church and as we gathered for the first meeting, we went through a series of simple “ice-breaker” type questions to inspire conversation: What was your first job (wow, I have to remember that far back?) What is your favorite movie? (There are so many good movies to choose from!) After a few minutes of discussion and some loosening up a little, we moved on to a deeper topic. What do you want to be known most for in your life? Without any hesitation, I knew that answer just like I know my own name. My motherhood! When my children are grown and living their own successful lives, as they reflect back my greatest hope is that they will truly feel in their hearts that they had the best mom ever!

There is nothing in this life more important to me than my motherhood. Growing up in a hostile and abusive setting left me to be a young woman with some severe identity issues. I felt unworthy of anyone’s love, I had more noticeable flaws than crackled fingernail polish and I didn’t have a clue who I was or what I wanted to be. Looking in the mirror was painful and there were many times I would wonder who in the world that empty-eyed girl was gazing back at me. That all changed on a sweet August day in 1995. I had given birth to my first daughter and after bringing her home, I remember walking into the bathroom and catching my reflection in the mirror. For the first time in my life I paused and pondered the person standing there. Something was different, unique, changed, and then it hit me. I was a mother! I no longer felt lost and undone as a woman, I now had a purpose and it was written all over me like the most beautiful love story ever told. Something alive glimmered in my eyes and I knew in that moment I had walked into the purpose that the great God of heaven had chosen for me before the foundations of the world were formed.

17 years and 3 more babies later, I can still say with as much confidence and vigor as I felt that day, I am walking in my purpose. Am I the perfect mom? – Insert me totally laughing out loud! – I have made many mistakes over the years and will more than likely make a few (hundred!) more before it’s all over. Most of the things that I said I would never do to MY children (spoken in a very judgmental tone) – has happened. I have made decisions that have hurt my children, I have failed them many times and sometimes I get exhausted mentally and physically and beg for a short break away from it all. Yet with its challenges, responsibilities, and demands, out of all the roles I fulfill, being a mother is WHO I am and it brings the most satisfaction to my heart.

I am taxi (sometimes I swear I am just going to paint myself yellow and change my name to Friendly).
I am judge (but I don’t get to wear one of those fancy black robes).
I am referee (Whoever said save the drama for yo mama should be cut!)
I am cook (now this is a task that I like to do!)
I am maid (sometimes borderline slave!)
I am cheerleader (I can’t do a back hand spring but I sure can yell some encouragement).
I am teacher (The Bible says…..)
I am comedian (at least I think so at times).
I am singer (well, okay, mostly in the shower).
I am bread-winner and I am bank. (I should have been the star in the old Enjoli commercials).
I am nurse (as long as blood isn’t gushing everywhere! Then I am in panic mode).
I am daughter (and I love MY momma!).
I am sister (and the older you get the more you appreciate your siblings).
I am friend (life without friends is like the sky without a sun!).

But when it is all said and done, at the end of the day (which is sometimes insanely busy and has had more things to accomplish than even superman would try) I know that I have done something right when my children make it a point to say…goodnight mom, I love you! I could win the lottery and not feel as special as I do when they wrap their arms around me.

I am at a season in my life where I feel it is time to pursue some self-inspired goals for myself. I want to earn a college education. In high school I took advance classes and graduated early to start college but as an 18 year old who had life before them, I made some unwise choices. At the age of 42 I have yet to attend one class. I do not regret for one moment what I have put my time and efforts into over the past 17 years as a parent, but I feel it is the proper time to take that goal off the shelf and put some action into achieving it.

I would love to write a book or two. I have so many ideas churning inside this eccentric, dramatic, creative personality I have been gifted with. (Yeah I know, you may call it something else but this is my story so I get to pen the description!)

I would love to study and someday teach Theology/Bible/Bible History. (And not in a mundane, boring, chronological way). The Bible is the greatest book I have ever read and it bleeds with love, passion, drama and truth. To intertwine all that in with true-to-life history and impart into someone an enthusiasm for Jesus that they have never had before – well that would be better than a lifetime supply of chocolate and coffee delivered weekly by Hugh Jackman!

I want the biggest Great Dane anyone has ever seen! He will be MY dog and he will love me and be my devoted friend. He will watch sappy love stories with me, listen to Michael Jackson and he will love the ocean. He will also take me for daily walks. 😉

I want to learn to play the violin. I think it is the most romantic musical instrument that exists. It can charm your senses with a soft melody and with a valiant stroke of excitement, beseech you to stop and listen.

With this all said I do hope that I seize every opportunity that God sees fit to send my way to walk out these goals and see them fulfilled. It would be fun to be known as an author/teacher/musician/the chick with the gi-gan-toid dog. However, when my life is coming to a close, in my heart my success will not be measured by the titles I may or may not have. It will be wrapped around the beautiful three letter word that describes the greatest mission that I could have ever lived out and that matters more than anything to me. Mom.

It’s the wee hours of the morning I’m lying in bed and I hear the pitter patter of little feet coming into my room. “Mom, I had some bad dreams.” my little one tells me. “Here, come crawl in beside me” I tell him. He jumps in over me and lies down. “Will you hold me?” he asks, and immediately I roll over, wrap my arms around him and pull him as close to me as I possibly can. His body relaxes, he sighs a relief as he closes his eyes. I can’t tell you the sweet satisfaction that rushes through me as he lays there, drifting back into a slumber as his spirit is comforted and his fears are soothed. What a joy to know that simply holding him can bring such security to his little heart.

My mind drifts off to the many nights of childhood where I would lay in my bed, terrified from the sounds coming from the other room; the desperate pleas to stop, the muffled cries of pain, the clings and clangs of thrown objects. Oddly enough it was the silence that scared me the most. Had the rampage stopped? Or was it just a brief pause before the violence burst into our rooms and chose the next victim. A good night’s sleep was hard to come by and if I did manage to drift off, the nightmares that invaded my resting body was at times more frightening than the reality that waited when I awoke.

“Will you hold me?” Countless times I wanted to cry out those simple words. To be enveloped by loving arms, comforted, sheltered from the storm. I knew better though than to mutter a word or make the slightest sound. Wisdom taught me early not to dare disturb the war that was raging, or else I would find myself as the object of the severe abuse. There were times that I would ask my sister if she would hold my foot. I’m not sure why that brought me comfort, perhaps just the awareness that I wasn’t alone, but most times I would hold on for dear life to my stuffed animal that had become my constant companion and my only faithful friend. I still have my teddy bear that I got for Christmas when I was 11 years old. Yes, he still serves as a pillow for my head at age 42, and my children know that he is to leave this earth with me when I depart. My ex-husband once told me I had to choose between that raggedy old bear and him…notice I said ex. :o) (although a true statement, just a little humor to lighten the mood.)

The good news is that eventually my family was able to escape the violence and began a new life. The bad news is that the nightmares followed me around wherever I happened to lay my head. The terror was so real at times that I would find myself waking up in a disconcerted state of mind. It would take minutes, sometimes hours to shake myself back into reality, clear my mind and realize it was only just a dream. Many times I turned to alcohol to dull my senses so that my mind could shut down and at least bring rest to my weary body.

At the age of 24, my life was changed. I gave my heart and life to Jesus and in return He gave me a new life full of wondrous transformations. My loving heavenly Father began to pour His healing balm upon every wound and scar from my past, touching the deep places that had become the very core of my being. A misconstrued image where Insecurities, feelings of worthlessness and self-hate flourished was changed from glory to glory as I allowed Him to show me who I was in His eyes. One of the greatest revelations I found was in Psalm 4:8 – “I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, LORD, only makes me dwell in safety.” What a joy it was for me to discover that I was safe in Him! That I could lie down and rest and not be afraid of what had been and what would come and haunt me. I devoured His word and rejoiced as the darkness of my soul was regenerated into something radiant, beautiful, happy.

18 years later I would like to be able to tell you that the nightmares have completely subsided; however, there are times that one slips in like a cold draft through an old window. The good news is that when I wake up in a panicked sweat, feeling like a helpless child who is longing for some comforting arms to wrap around me, I CAN cry out “will you hold me?” In an instant the everlasting arms of the Father rush down from Heaven to embrace me. Just like my little one runs to me, I can run to my God who is my refuge. His presence surrounds me, His love comforts me, His truth banishes my fears and clears my senses and I am safe.

2011. Eventful. Many blessings. Numerous heart aches. Difficult challenges. Necessary changes.

Welcomed new friendships and relished in the time spent cultivating the beauty of loyalty and companionship.

Cherished long-time friendships and rested in the security of seasoned love and commitment.

Said goodbye to some dear friends and felt the ache of the reality that life really doesn’t last forever.

Watched my children stand with enormous courage and faith as they had to say goodbye to their father and watched their tears fall from the ache of missing him.

Walked in the warmth of contentment of times of peace.

Woke up to the icy chill of loneliness.

Learned that asking for help doesn’t mean you are weak, it only means you are human.

Realized that some things may never change, it’s how willing I am to adjust that will make a difference.

Discovered that there isn’t too much variation in “who I am” and “who I want to be”. And that I’m okay with that.

Experienced the truth that God looks at things a whole lot different than we do sometimes. He isn’t a grudge holder. And when He has said something, He means it and will be faithful to follow through.

There is a fine line between faith and reality, and it’s easy to lose your balance sometimes and God understands that more than we think He does.

Learned the hard way that I really can endure more than I think I can, but it doesn’t mean that I like it!

If you want something, be willing to give it first. Our good deeds never go unnoticed by the One who really counts.

Kindness isn’t weakness. Only stupid people make that presumption.

Everyone needs love but not everyone will let you love them.

I have the right to say no (although I don’t do it very often – carrying that effort over to the new year!)

There is no greater satisfaction than that of knowing you have done what is right, despite the fact that you still want to cut somebody.

Can honestly say that fervently petitioning the God of heaven for what seems impossible, absolutely works!

Know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God is my friend. He loves me because of who He is. He helps me. He provides for me. He blesses me and He forgives me when I act like a dummy.

Never take those you love for granted. Life can rain on your parade at any given moment (or in my experiences lately, send a treacherous storm that can turn everything upside down).

Learned that I hate cancer and the destructive path it leaves in its wake.

I have what I need and God will take care of the rest.

I can make it through anything as long as I have God, my babies, family, friends, tequila, tuna subs and chocolate (and a sense of humor always helps!)

So as I brace myself for the New Year and the challenges that are already present before we even got started, I say with a grateful heart – Whew! Thanks! and let’s go!

Being a single mom with 4 active children really keeps me on the move. There is hardly an evening goes by that we don’t have something to do or somewhere to go. Many times people will ask me how in the world do I get everything done, and my honest answer is, by the grace of God. Most days I can muster up enough strength and attitude to complete the tasks before me, but there are some days, very few and far between, that life gets the best of me and I don’t want to do anything but recoup for a few. Last Sunday was one of those days. Me and my babies got up and went to church, and by the time I got home, fixed them some lunch and sat down, I realized I was tired, my body was aching from wrestling with a kidney stone and all I wanted to was rest for just a little while.

My attempt to lie down was futile to say the least. For some reason my precious children must have thought that my absence from the room they were in was an open invitation to be loud, obnoxious and a tad bit too wild for indoors. After 20 minutes or less, I was up, irritated, ranting, and frustrated. Totally throwing the insane idea of resting out the door, I began tackling some of the daily chores that needed to be done. As I picked up, cleaned and banged a few pots and pans around, I was baffled at the silence that echoed through my house, you know the kind that I had desperately wanted just a few minutes before, and my frustrations grew. My oldest daughter asked me to take her to a friend’s house, and I welcomed the opportunity to get out for a few minutes. After I dropped her off, the thought popped into my mind, “I am going to stop and get ME an ice cream.” I knew that if my children found out that I had ousted them on an ice cream run, they would be upset with me and deem me a bad mom, so my plan was to sit in the parking lot until every last piece of evidence was gone, then I would return home.

My destination was Mickey Dee’s and visions of a chocolate dipped cone enjoyed in solitude danced in my head. So there I was, sitting in the turn lane when I heard, “Go get your children and take them with you.” WTH! You have got to be kidding me. I sat there for a moment, ignoring the inclination, with the clicking of the signal light serenading me, and I begged for the light to change. This time it came across a little stronger than a suggestion, “GO GET YOUR CHILDREN AND TAKE THEM WITH YOU.” *sigh* “But Lord, you don’t understand, I don’t think they deserve an ice cream. I feel awful and they wouldn’t even let me rest for 30 minutes! I want to eat an ice cream alone with only peace and quiet as my companions. No, I’m not getting them” (and yes…I said that out loud!) Then the still small voice that I am so acquainted with spoke gently to my heart, “There’s lots of things you didn’t deserve Christy. Go get them, let me remind you of something today.” The light changed, and so did my direction. Off I went, not only to pick up my babies, but also on a refreshing journey down the portals of grace.
Grace: A favor rendered by one who need not do so. Indulgence. Unmerited favor. Getting something we don’t deserve.

Over 2000 years ago, the Creator of heaven and Earth looked down upon His creation and saw a people sick with sin and full of their selfish ways. A people He had made with His own hands and breathed life into with His own breathe. A people He had pursued, chosen, set apart, and set up tent to come live with. Yet they rejected Him. Time and again they turned from His ways. Time and again He forgave them and embraced them, a people that deserved only death and judgment. Yet one starry night, at just the right time, the God of Heaven sent His only son, not as a judgment but as a gift. The King of the universe, all powerful, all knowing, ever present, stepped out of His position as completely God, and wrapped Himself in the flesh of man. Grace wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. He came to live among a people who didn’t deserve Him. A people that would again reject Him, scorn Him and eventually crucify Him. He came to subject Himself to temptation, to be faced with the same trials that we wrestle with so that He could understand all of our weaknesses. The God who knew no sin became sin and offered Himself as a gift. The same grace that had once lain helplessly in that manger now hung naked on a cross and gave His life for you and me.

God wasn’t required to do anything for His people. His law had been given and the penalties of disobedience were written in stone. They hadn’t done what He had asked and He had every right to be angry with them. In His sovereignty He could have chosen to do whatever he wanted, yet Isaiah 53 says that it was all His good plan. Grace. From the sweet Christmas birth to the treacherous cross and on to the victorious Easter resurrection, it satisfied God to do something for His children that they definitely didn’t deserve.
So there I sat chocolate dipped cone in hand, in a minivan full of children who were laughing and enjoying their unmerited treat. With each bite, my frustrations seemed to melt away and thankfulness filled my heart. Thankful, that when I was lost and undone, God found me, picked me up, brushed me off and started me on the right path. Grace. Thankful that His love for me isn’t based on who I am but who He is. Grace. Thankful that through all my mishaps and mistakes, when I open my eyes each morning He is there to renew me and get me through the day. Grace. Thankful that at the times in my life that I feel the least deserving, God embraces me with His love and forgiveness. Thankful that through such a simple thing as a chocolate dipped ice cream cone, the God of Heaven took the time to join me and remind me once again of His amazing grace

Rejection and loneliness is something that I have battled with all of my life. As a child nestled safe inside my mother’s womb, I couldn’t comprehend the outside forces that violently threatened my existence. As a young girl the sting of anger gushing from a man declaring repeatedly that I didn’t belong confused my innocent desires to be accepted and embraced. Going into the teenage years with no sense of who I was or where I belonged led to countless attempts to find myself in the wrong people and the wrong thing s. Being taunted over of my appearance, excluded from the social cliques, even to be looked down upon by the church because I didn’t have the correct religious clothing imbedded a warped truth that there was something wrong with me and I was unworthy of acceptance. Rejection became my constant companion and soon loneliness settled into my heart as a loyal friend.

Many years, numerous mistakes and immeasurable strength was put into searching for a person, a place, a job or position, anything that would deem me worthy. Yet in all my attempts and fleeting moments of satisfaction, the days of bliss would dwindle down and the nights of waking up feeling empty and alone would settle in again like a hibernating bear.

It wasn’t until April 10, 1994, at the age of 24 that my life finally took a turn for the best. In a small church, standing amidst a congregation of strangers, I came face to face with the one, like me, who had been despised and rejected himself. The Bible says He was a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care. Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down. And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God, a punishment for his own sins. But he was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins. He was beaten so we could be whole. He was whipped so we could be healed. (Isaiah 53)

Without any hesitancy, I took hold of the nail pierced hands and fell into the outstretched arms of the one who gave his life to prove that I was worthy, accepted and loved. It has been an interesting 17 year journey. It hasn’t always been sunshine and mountain tops that’s for sure and many times I have let go of those hands, and ran from the warm embrace, yet He has never let me go. I have learned a lot about myself, and have experienced the healing of wounds that I thought were mine for existence. I have discovered that my worth lies in who He says that I am not what others do or think about me, and mainly , my worst enemy at times, my opinion of myself. My relationship with Him over the years has transformed me from a broken woman with a shattered heart who was unable to stand myself much less love others to a whole woman who likes myself (on most days – we won’t count the hormonal roller coaster rides!) with a heart that is able to love beyond any capacity I ever imagined.

I’m by far not immune to the old feelings coming and knocking on my door from time to time. Different things can send out smoke signals for them to come rushing in. Harsh words from a child you’ve worked so hard to please, careless actions from others, a memory that has crept its way back into my thoughts, a disturbing dream, all can cause the old familiar tune to strum it’s melody upon my heart. (I’m human myself and capable of making mistakes that may cause someone else that I love to feel the same way. Ugh! )

Just this week I found myself waking up to the chill of the uninvited presence. 5 am came way too early and the darkness wore a mask that enveloped my senses. I laid in bed crying out to God to help me not feel this way. The dread of going through the day with this heaviness weighed down my spirit. I needed an answer, a reassurance that He heard me.

It wasn’t long until I heard the comfort of His voice as he reminded me of the thief on the cross. Here was man who, for whatever reasons in his life, had made many mistakes which brought him to a fate that was sealed with doom. There is no mention of anyone standing in the crowd that day that had any compassion for this thief and I can only imagine the feelings of rejection and loneliness he was experiencing as he hung on the cross in front of the angry crowd. In a moment of despair, he cried out to Jesus, “Lord remember me when you come into your Kingdom.” Simple words that shouted volumes of hope that one day he wouldn’t be alone. Jesus’s response wasn’t, “dude you must be crazy! You deserve what you’re getting,” or even “okay, sure I will do that but it may take a while.” Out of His own agony, Jesus replied, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” This man’s last breath was taken with the comfort and assurance that Jesus had not rejected him.

That same comfort given to the lowly thief over 2000 years ago flooded my room as the sun rose over the horizon. The weight on my soul was lifted and the promise of His ever-present love soothed every cell of my being. The truth spoken by Jeremiah of His mercies renewing themselves each morning penetrated the empty spaces and filled me up once again.

Jesus said in John 10:10, “The thief comes to steal kill and to destroy; I have come that you may have life and life to the full.” (John 10:10) I have heard that scripture preached so many times, with the majority of the sermons leading us to believe that our life is to always be exciting, blessed, and successful and if there is anything going on to the contrary, then we must be doing something wrong. More than once those words have been like a dagger of condemnation piercing my heart as I would experience struggles and hardships that seemed beyond my control.

In my quest for living that life to the full, I am the ultimate at always trying to find the good in all that is bad, the light at the end of the tunnel, the hope in the face of despair. Yet in living 41 years so far I have discovered that life isn’t always successful and enjoyable. Yes I know, we are supposed to savor every moment because we never know what’s going to happen, but in all reality, let’s just admit it, sometimes the taste it leaves in our mouth is a little more like raw sushi instead of chocolate cake. There are mornings that you can’t wait for the sun to rise so you can begin a new adventure, and then there are others that you have to pry yourself out from under the covers and force yourself out of bed. There are the moments that you wish you could hold onto forever, and there are days that you feel like will never end. The statement, “life isn’t measured by the number of breathes we take, but by the moments that take our breath away” is blissfully true on both ends of the spectrum. It can be the priceless awe captured in a snapshot of your 3 year olds first sight of the ocean, or it can be the terrified image that is forever burned in your memory of your now 9 year old as he watches life fade from his father’s eyes. There are times in your life that you have never felt happier and blessed until something beyond your control knocks the wind out of your sails and you feel like you can’t even stay afloat.

My family is in a major transitional stage in our life right now. My children must learn to live with the peace that their dad is no longer suffering but living the eternal life that their faith promises them and to balance that with the weight of the heartache of him being gone and the deep sadness that comes with missing him tremendously. I myself am experiencing the emotional and mental stress of feeling like the sole source to supply their needs, mentally, physically and emotionally all the while wrestling with the constant monkey of fear on my back that whispers I’m not going to be able to do it. It’s not easy looking in your children’s eyes and seeing a hurt that you don’t have the fix for.

Nevertheless, this is life and it is happening, and I am living it. Every day that there is breath in our body and blood flowing through our veins we are thankful yet susceptible to experiencing the good and the bad, the blessed and the destitute, the satisfying and the exhausting, the contentment and the disarray. If you are reading this you are probably thinking, in the most sarcastic tone you can muster up, “wow this girl is a beaming ray of sunshine!” I confess it has gotten me down, lower than I have been in a long time; there are more moments than I can count that I feel I may spontaneously combust.

The good news is that I am simply living life to the fullest. If you read John 10 in it’s context, the whole chapter deals with us knowing Jesus for who He really is, for how He cares for us, knowing the sacrifice that He made and how He wants us to be able to hear His voice. He doesn’t promise that a life to the full will exclude times of heartache and despair, but He does say that if we belong to Him, then we will know His voice and He will take care of us. Even though life is tough right now with many things uncertain, there is one thing that I’m sure of, I know my savior and I hear Him when He speaks. Whether He chooses to speak to me through His written word, an audible voice, or through the understanding words of someone who loves me, I hear Him and it breathes life to my weary soul.

So many times in my life I’ve wondered what in the world I have done wrong, asked over and over, why Lord? I have prayed, confessed, and hail mary’d enough times for every priest in America to be covered, yet on a hot summer day, in the silence of an empty office, I discovered that the place I am at right now in my life is exactly where God wants me to be. There are no wrong or rights to analyze and no condemnation to carry. I am living life to the fullest because I know Him… and I need Him… and I know that I need Him. I ask for an answer, and I listen as He speaks. When I wake up feeling empty, I ask and He fills me up. When I feel like I am going to fall apart at the seams, I somehow feel His arms around me holding me together. When my mind can’t take anymore and my emotions are on overdrive, I set my thoughts on Him and I find peace. I stand in awe at his goodness and the sacrifice that He made so that I can draw near to Him. Does this mean that everything will be okay tomorrow? No, not necessarily, and neither does it mean that there won’t be times that I question Him again, or feel like I’m running on empty. It does mean however, that whatever tomorrow brings, He will be right there with me, He will take care of me, I will be okay and I will be living the life He so graciously came to give me.