Broken and Spilled Out

I have always accused the people who were supposed to love me of not letting me in. Not loving me fully or outside their comfort zone. Well, faithful readers, I have just been smacked upside the head with the truth that it was me all along. I have been the one who has never loved fully. I have been the one who did not allow herself to love outside her comfort zone.

Until now.

And this shit is scary. (Sorry)

Allowing yourself to be vulnerable is frightening enough on its own. Vulnerability in love? That’s a whole other animal. I have no reason to be afraid to love Robert or to allow him to love me. Except that love and trust are two things that have betrayed me in the past. Robert loves me. Wholly and completely. For the most part, (when fear is not in charge), I have no problem believing this.

It’s when the past betrayals rear their ugly heads in the form of fear and mistrust, that my knees get a little wobbly on this cliff I refer to as love.

So while it takes two to make a relationship work, it also takes two to make a relationship fail. I publicly apologize for my part in the failure of both my marriages.

I have no regrets, though, because of all the good that came from both in the form of growth and my beautiful babies.

And because of the broken road that led me straight to Robert. The one with whom I will be vulnerable. The one with whom I will trust with my heart and broken pieces. The one for whom I will spill out love until our hearts overflow with the giving and receiving of love.

That One Day When I Realized I’m Broken and it’s Beautiful…and That Matcha is Life!

I have so many words in my head today, so this may be a long one. First, Kelly Clarkson is amazing and if you haven’t listened to Broken and Beautiful recently, do it now. I’ll wait. Okay, back to what I was saying. The words in my head…oh yes. There are so many things I need to say. I have to constantly take notes in my phone because, alas, Frankie (my MS) has stolen my brain power.

I place my fingers to the keyboard, but I am so full, I don’t know where to start. I’ll just start with the title. I am broken. My sisterfriend, Nyree always says, “No you’re not!” But I am. We all are to some extent. Broken, then mended. Broken, then mended. I shared this with my perpetual fiancé, Robert. And by perpetual, I mean, we’re never getting married. Just forever engaged. Anyway, so my brokenness is not an altogether bad thing. Unless you are extremely close to me and I trust you enough to show you, the brokenness is nearly unnoticeable.

I have been hurt a lot in my lifetime. A lot. Rejection sucks and I have experienced it more than any one person should. Yet, I see where it has formed me and made me who I am. I like me. I actually love me. Finally. It took a while, though. See? So many words and they’re fighting my brain space for a chance to be written. Hold on patient readers, while I get them in order. chill out words, you’ll all get your chance.

Okay, I’m back. Now, what was I saying…yes, I love me. And brokenness. Being broken is not the end of all things. I am talking to my warriors with chronic illness and pain. When I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, it happened so quickly, my world changed in the blink of an eye. I went from superwoman to what-in-the-whole-hell-is-happening-woman. I was depressed from being bedridden, unable to work and having to drop out of college (again?!) I was beside myself.

But wait, is that the sound of the mender coming to heal some of my brokenness? Yes! As the glue was being applied, I began to see some beauty in the break. I have loved to write for as long as I can remember. This season of nothingness gave me what I needed to start writing. Time! That elusive thing of which we never seem to have enough. So began this here blog. The place where I write. Everything. Go back to the beginning. You’ll see.

I’m gonna wrap this up and save the rest for another day. Find your beauty. It may be in the cracks of your brokenness, but it is there.

Oh and matcha!! If you have not discovered this tea of champions, go. Go forth and find this treasure. Until next time (which will probably be tomorrow because, again, the words and whatnot).

That One Day When I Found Home

I have always searched. I never quite knew what for, but I longed for something that was missing. Growing up, I felt like an outcast in my family. Except that my daddy was always there. There to be whatever I needed. He was my best friend. We would ride around town together, go fishing, and I loved making him laugh.

When I look back, I realize I was looking for home. A place to belong. Where everything clicked. Where I knew I fit. I found, though, that home for me would never be a place. I see now that my daddy was home for me then. When I grew up, I thought that when I got married, I would find that place of fulfillment, but, no.

I did find some fulfillment in raising my beautiful children. But I still did not belong anywhere. I remained a helium-filled balloon, always on the ceiling of where I lived, anticipating the day I would float to the floor in a useless pile.

I shared with my love today that my trust issues do not stem from him. My inability to trust love had nothing to do with anywhere or anything he was lacking. I was explaining to him that I had come to the stark realization that the only person that I ever believed loved me no matter what was gone. And I don’t know what to do with the gaping hole that he left. He left a daddy-shaped hole that only Larry V Wilson can fill.

On the bright side, however, though no one can or should fill that hole, I have found my home. It is not a place. It is the welcoming of a stranger to a family. It is the physical hug and the happy smile I receive when I walk into a room. It is my long-distance family whom I adore, but it is also the family God recently gave me to lighten the load and maybe cover the hole that can never be filled.

I can’t help but think of the song ‘Home’ from the movie ‘The Wiz’. When I think of home, I think of a place where there’s love overflowing…’
I am finally home. The search is over.

 

That One Day When I Gave Jesus the Wheel

I was talking to my son CJ today. We have been talking a lot lately about trusting God. How when we give over control of our lives, it is tough to completely let go. We say, “Okay, God, I’m lost, I need your help. Please, just take the wheel.” Then, as soon as the way looks clear again, “Oh! I know where I am, now!” We grab the wheel, (like Jesus needs our help), and Jesus, all patient and stuff, calmly says, “Um, I’ve got this. I know where I am taking you. It looks familiar because you have been here before, but just let me drive, okay?”

“But I know a shortcut!” I say excitedly. He keeps driving.

“Jesus!” I exclaim.

“Yes?” He replies, half smiling.

I remember too late the whole taking His name in vain thing. “Oh, um, nothing. I was just saying…”

He laughs, because He knows me, pats my leg and says, “Just don’t do it again.”

I ride a few more miles, a few more days, resting in the knowledge that He loves me. He knows what is best for me. In my silence, He telepathically communicates truth to my soul.

“I gave you a promise. I will never take it back. I will never change my mind. When you feel lost, when you can not see through the darkness, let my promise be your flashlight. Your growing faith is the battery. When the battery fails and the light flickers, trust me. I love you.”

There is peace in surrendering your life to God. It does not mean life will be perfect. What it does mean is that we don’t have to handle everything.  We can still plan our lives and sometimes our plan will even line up with God’s plan. When that happens, it is just confirmation that we are on the right path. Be still. Know that God has you.

 

That One Day When He Did A Thing And It Was Good

I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS) in November of 2016. It was the one thing that completely put my life plan on hold…but not without a fight. Those of you who know me, know that I am not a church or religious person, but I DO love me some Jesus. I trust Him with my life, but I also fight with Him. In a most respectful way.

I had a plan. I always envisioned myself (even when I was a stay-at-home-homeschooling-my kids-mama) as a powerful businesswoman, in control, making money, living my best life. Every job I held included some sort of management role and I always planned to take that all the way. I never felt like I needed a piece of paper to define me or to prove my worth, so I never got my college degree. My plan, though, at the beginning of 2016 included finally getting my degree. I was working at UPS, doing great, until my hours were cut in half and I could no longer continue the lifestyle that I was living. I then chose to go to Amazon because it was a guaranteed 40 hour per week job with great benefits and decent pay. I worked the overnight shift, slept for a couple of hours and went to school on campus at Indiana University Southeast. Love that place. Anyway, things were going just how I had planned them and I was so proud of myself.

Then Jesus stepped in. And He knows me. He knows I am a fighter and He just didn’t care. Actually, He kinda told me to hold off on my plan before I dove in headfirst, but I explained to Him, like I always do, “But, God, I’m going to do this thing and it’s going to be so incredible and…”

“Um, you probably want to just wait and see what I have for you, Erica.” He gently replies, like He always does, because I always argue with Him.

“Yeah, but…” I eagerly retort, like I always do, because I always argue with Him.

He doesn’t respond this time, like He always doesn’t because He knows I won’t listen. So as I was saying, my plan was playing out perfectly. Then He stepped in and literally had to put me flat on my back.

“Okay, Erica, don’t be mad, but I’m doing a thing. You’re not going to like it, but trust me.”

“That’s cool, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my plan.”

Now, I am not saying MS was a punishment by any means. I am saying that it took this uncontrollable, unpredictable albatross around my neck to slow me down. God and I have a thing. He says something, I argue, he lets me, He does His doesn’t-seem-like-it-now-but-it-really-is-love-thing, and I eventually surrender. It works for us. Makes our relationship stronger.

I will talk about my diagnosis in more detail in another blog, but during the time after my diagnosis, I was unable to work. I was somewhat cool with that. I couldn’t walk so going to school on campus was out of the question. I was not so cool with that.

“Um, did you know they have computers? I can do school online!” I said this, not in a challenging way, but just so He knew that part of my plan was still doable while He still did His thing.

“Um, did you know that MS fog is a real thing?” He said this, not in a challenging way, but just so I knew that His plan was THE plan and He needed me to be still.

I could no longer retain anything. I mean nothing. My fingers became bear paws and I could no longer type. I never got angry with Him, but I did slowly realize that my plan was null and void. Because I know He loves me and I trust Him, I finally stopped fighting. He hugged me and said “I’ve got this.”

I will also go into more detail about how He had me in yet another blog. When I finally gave up my plan and surrendered to His, miraculous things began to happen. Knowing that He sees the entire picture, beginning to end, and that I am limited to the very small picture in front of me, it allows me to trust that He will do way more for me than I can do for myself. I let Him do a thing, and it was good.