Purple Lipstick

There is so much I want to say about the "story" below. But the more I think about it, the more I feel that I need to let the story sit for itself and let it be what it is for you. 

I watched myself in the mirror as I put on favorite purple lipstick. It was bold, but on this night, it was exactly what I needed. I was going to fight and this was my fighting lipstick. I had my armor on. I was ready.

“Let’s do this.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked without getting up.

Taking a deep breath, she stood beside him, keeping the advantage. You can do this. She closed her eyes and jumped in with both feet. “I’m done. I’m done being your slave and your part-time lover. I am better than that. I deserve to be treated better than that. I am valuable. Your lust for me is dirty and I refuse to allow you to continue to make me feel less than.” She raised her chin a little higher as he opened his mouth to say something. “No, I’m not finished. “You have locked your heart to love. I could have loved you. But I deserve to be loved by someone who loves himself. You need to love yourself.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t need you, anyway.”

“I forgive you. I wish you a good life. Bye.” The purple tattoo of her kiss sizzled on his skin. She forced herself to walk rather than run as she turned away.

She heard him shout, “Yeah?! You forgive me?! Ha! Well, it’s your loss, baby! I don’t need you! I don’t anyone! What do I need you for?!”

The door slammed before he could say anything else.

A Beautiful Conversation with God

About a year ago, a friend of mine shared on the Facebook that she was going through a new journal called "Whispers of Mercy" and God was changing her life. As an avid journaler and someone who is always looking for new ways God is moving in the lives of others, I clicked on the link to the journal and saved it so I could hopefully purchase the journal as soon as I had the finances. It looked like something that I definitely wanted to give a try. 

The concept Holly Love King uses in "Whispers of Mercy" is fairly simple: each new entry begins with a Bible passage and a brief devotional/explanation/discussion of the verse. Then there are lines for you, the journaler, to write your conversation with God. 

You have to get quiet with God and allow the Holy Spirit to speak to you. You cannot be distracted. This is a beautiful thing. It is real. It is powerful. And, as my friend shared on Facebook, it is life-changing. Following is my conversation with God this morning. It might not make sense if you don't know my story so you might need to go back and read some previous posts. Yes, this is super private and personal, but it was also very exciting and I just feel that you might be blessed, too. Rather than typing it out, I've chosen to upload images of my original handwritten conversation. I truly hope you can read it. 

Remember the Miracles

Seeing God's miracles in the midst of grieving, even after 19 years, is not easy, but it is something I hear Him calling me to do. I'm going to be vulnerable here, folks, so please, be gentle and kind, ok? To this day, I still question, "God, where was my miracle?" concerning my stillborn son, James Isaac and each of my miscarriages, Panya Ruth and Anna Rose. You see, I've heard stories where women went in to have ultrasounds and there wasn't a heartbeat, so they went back to their churches and began a prayer chain. The next time they went to see their doctor, their babies' heartbeats were perfectly normal. Or of women who began bleeding as I did, indicating a miscarriage was imminent, but somehow, miraculously, they delivered perfectly healthy babies. I just couldn't help asking God, "Where were MY miracles?!"

You see, I wanted each of my babies more than life itself. I knew each time I was pregnant that I was pregnant even before I had the proof. I began rubbing my belly immediately and nicknamed each baby. I grew up knowing I would teach (have the career) and be a Mommy. And be the wife of a Pastor. By the time I was pregnant with James Isaac, two of those dreams had come true. The third was about to. God was so good. I knew He was making the third come to fruition. I didn't have the American Dream; I had my God Dream--my God Miracle.

And then I didn't.

And my life was turned upside down and it has never been turned upside right since. In fact, it has been topsy-turvy ever since and all I want is off this roller-coaster. But yet if I get off the roller-coaster, it would mean forgetting my babies, so I here I must stay.

What I must do is begin to remember the miracles God did perform. The miracles I did get from God. It won't get me off the roller-coaster, but it will remind me that God is still in the business of being Awesome and that even if I didn't get the Miracles I wanted, He still performed amazing Miracles in my life that I need to remember. 

So here are just a few of the wonderful Miracles of God in my life, in no particular order:

• My salvation: I became a Believer at the tender age of about 3 or 4 years old. I'm not sure which it was, but I know I was very young. I know a lot of people have trouble with young children's acceptance of Jesus into their hearts because they don't always know what they're doing, but I was quite precocious--if you'll allow me to say so about myself. I knew that I loved Jesus and I gave Him my heart then and I have never wanted to take it back. Have I been perfect in my faith? Of course not. But I have done my best to serve Him with all my heart, all my soul, all my mind, and all my strength ever since I was a very little girl.
• Dr. Steven Merta: the doctor who delivered James Isaac and Samuel and who was there with me through each of my miscarriages. I can't even begin to explain to you what a comfort he was and has been for me then and now. He was an angel God sent to take extra special care of me. Dr. Merta made sure that I was in as little pain as possible during James Isaac's delivery and that I slept through as much of the labor as possible. (Yes, I had to deliver James Isaac naturally even though we already knew he was gone.) When we first saw on the monitor that there wasn't a heartbeat, I cried to Dr. Merta, "You fix it." He didn't get upset; he just patted my shoulder and told me he would if he could. He is the one who reminded us to call home and back then, there weren't cell phones, so we had to call long distance on the office phone; he told us not to worry about it. While I was in labor and sleeping, he even visited with my family. I remember waking up and hearing him chatting with them. I found that to be a huge a comfort. I can't explain why. It just was. After James Isaac was delivered, Dr. Merta immediately laid him on my chest and let me hold him for as long as I wanted. He just took care of me. Dr. Merta even came to our funeral. I'd never heard of a doctor doing that. It meant the world to me that he came. And he was with me for each of my miscarriages. He took care of me each time. When Samuel was born, my heart rate shot through the roof and while all the nurses and everyone else around me went a little nuts, he calmly and coolly delivered Samuel and just took care of us. He was an angel.
• During my first ultrasound with James Isaac, the doctor found a cyst on my left ovary. When I went in just a few weeks later, the cyst had grown a centimeter a week. Concerned that there wouldn't be enough room for both the baby and the cyst at the rate the cyst was growing, I had surgery during my 20th week of pregnancy--between Thanksgiving and Christmas in 1998. I had to be awake for the safety of both Mom and James Isaac. My doctor's name was Dr. Caparossi--another angel sent by God. He had to remove my left ovary and fallopian tube, but everything was healthy otherwise. (Yes, I do wonder why we didn't take James Isaac then. But the surgery was a success; all was well and the longer he "percolated" in my belly, the safer it was for him. How were we to know what would happen just 18 weeks later?)
• When we first got to the hospital to deliver James Isaac, my nurse was the wife of one of the doctors in the practice with Dr. Merta and her name was Angel.
• When Dad answered the phone when I called home to tell them, he knew and all I had to say was, "Daddy."
• ALL of my students at the time came to the funeral. *My heart.*
• My family has always been there for me.
• The fact that I have had Laughter in my life at all even after having a stillbirth and 2 miscarriages.
• Tears.
• David and Phyllis Watson: James' brother David also came when they heard we'd lost our James Isaac. Phyllis had lost a baby, too, many years prior. Our loss was her loss; she had loved our James Isaac, too. They went with us to the funeral when we went to make arrangements. We had been told that it was "free." Once everything was set, the funeral director said, "That'll be $100." James and I just looked at him blankly. David stepped forward with the $100 and told us it was a gift. *My heart.*
• When I left the job I'd been at when I lost James Isaac and Panya Ruth, God provided the next job practically immediately.
• During my quiet time with Him one day, He called me His "Joy Song"
• My Mom--there are no words, but she has been another angel who has let me cry and who has listened to a LOT
• Katie, my sister, who has called and who has sat on the other end of the phone and just listened to me cry
• Songs that have come on the radio or across my Facebook at exactly the moment I needed to hear them
• Every single Hug I have ever received
• I haven't killed myself. There was this one day, in particular when I was driving in the parking lot on campus and I started to speed up towards one of the lamp posts. I didn't slow down, but yet here I am.
• When it was time to deliver Samuel, my heart rate went up to over 200 beats/minute. My wonderful cousin Robin Hodge who has been a neonatal nurse all her adult life was in the birthing room with me (mom made her after what had happened with James Isaac) and noticed the irregular heartbeat. Things got pretty "hairy"--to say the least, during Samuel's delivery. I was pretty out of it, what with the drugs I was allowed to have because, yes, I was too scared not to go through that experience without them. I desperately wanted to have Samuel naturally. You see, I'd had to deliver James Isaac naturally even though he was already gone. It was very important to me to deliver this son naturally, as well. Please don't make me say the words as to why. I just can't do it right now. But Dr. Merta was prepping the operating room for an emergency c-section because of what was going on with my heart. He checked my progress one last time before wheeling my bed down the hall and made the declaration that it was too late. I was just lucid enough to be aware and relieved and ready to push and do whatever he told me to do. Within minutes. my Rainbow Baby, my Miracle--my Sunshine--my Precious, was in my arms against my breast, breathing, crying, warm, and oh, so wonderful. He was HERE. And, like Hannah, God had answered my prayer. He was my Samuel.
• My massage therapist.
• I haven't killed or hurt someone else. (I won't name names.)
• Our trip to Disney World. (Thank you, Katie.)
• Fairhaven Ministries. They even told me to come when I told them I didn't have any money.
• Samuel's joyous laughter.
• Samuel's cuddles.
• Samuel.
• Cardinals. God has sent cardinals to remind me of His Son and His goodness just when I needed them, every time.
• Sunflowers. I love sunflowers. They are another reminder of God and His Son and JOY.
• I survived Mona. (Don't ask.)
• When I miscarried Anna Rose, someone with whom I had a prior connection came and held me--even though I was on the toilet (sorry, Katie) while I screamed and cried.
• Our finances.
• I'm still here. I'm alive. When I was in the hospital in 2009, I seriously almost died. James has told me numerous times that he saw Death in that hospital room. I saw Demons. I also saw Angels fighting those demons for my life. Guess who won?! (For those of you who don't know, I had a severe diverticulitis flare-up/infection. I was in the hospital for a week while they tried to deal with the infection with meds but finally had to do emergency surgery. I had to wear a bag for three months; after three months, Dr. Cox (another angel, btw) reversed the previous surgery and removed 8 inches of colon.) 
• When I was about three years old (or somewhere in there), I almost drowned. Kenny, my brother, and I had been dipping our toes in the water while the pool refilled and I slipped and went in. Dad had been mowing and came flying from the other end of the pool and saved my life. 
• When I was a teenager, I choked on a piece of meat. My brother Kenny had to give me the Heimlich to save my life.
• About 45 days before my wedding 25 years ago, I was in a car accident that rolled my car several times. If I hadn't been so short, I would not have walked away from that accident.
• His High Places Ministries. I went for a week-long session, expecting God to move and Boy, Howdy, did He!!! Praise the Lord!!!

I may not have received the miracles I wanted, but God has performed many wonderful miracles in my life. I haven't even named the so-called "little" miracles!

What about you? What are some of the wonderful miracles of God in your life?

Adrift

It is not easy when life hits you out of nowhere and you crash. I mean, here you are, going along, minding your own business, living your life, things are going just fine, and BAM! A monsoon hits and your boat sinks. You're left in a tiny raft in the middle of the big blue ocean, fighting for your life, wondering if it's worth it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OiLC9vSQGY

(I honestly haven't watched the video that goes with this image. I just really loved the picture.)

Being adrift in the ocean has exacerbated my depression. I don't want to go anywhere or do anything. I have spent a LOT of time over the past two months in tears. I am alone--if not in reality, then metaphorically. Even the people who say they understand don't REALLY understand. (Friends and family, please don't be offended; hear my heart.) 

I've been lost. Just so very lost. Emotionally. Physically. Personally. Spiritually. Sharks have circled. As have other dangerous creatures seeking to devour me at their first opportunity. And trust me, they have all tried to knock me out of my raft. I have almost been eaten more times than I care to count.

I've seen such beauty, too, though. The sights of dolphins, whales, the moon, sunrises, sunsets, and so much more--I've been awestruck. How could anyone not believe in God? I've clung to those images and to Him and in those moments, He spoke to me.

My God spoke to me in His still small voice today as I was reading His Word, words of reassurance that I desperately needed. I pray that it is ok with Him that I share these words with you. If not, then I pray that no one reads this post.

In my drifting, I have lost my way. I have been stuck. I have no idea what to do next. I believe I'm supposed to write, to finish my Memoir, but I have not been working on it at all. I have avoided it. Why? 

Fear? Because I'm stuck? Because I'm adrift? 

I have no idea.

But today, the Lord spoke to me and I hope and pray that these words are all the motivation I need to be rescued from my raft:

"Take heart and finish the task, Polly! (Zechariah 8:9, NLT) (Be strong.) I AM HERE! Get on with it, Polly. You're stuck because you haven't finished the Work. I can't move until you finish the product. You keep waiting for Me to do something miraculous. And I will. But My hands are tied until YOU finish your part. So FINISH it. Quit stalling. Quit moping. Quit waiting on Me. I'm here. I AM! I AM WITH YOU, POLLY, My Precious Joy Song (Haggai 1:13, NLT)! I am going to fulfill the promise I gave you. But you have to complete your part. Now do it!!! Just do it! Don't be afraid or discouraged (Zechariah 8:13, NLT). All that has happened has happened so I may use you for My glory, Polly. Will you be obedient to My calling? To My purpose? All you have to do is finish it!"

Lord, I will be obedient. I accept. Here I am. Use me. I am getting out of my raft and finishing the task You gave me. I love You, Lord.

Friends, family, loved ones who have read this far: will you pray with and for me that I will finish the task that the Lord has given me and that I will stay the course??? That I will be obedient? That I will not let depression keep me from doing what I know God has called me to do?

Thank you. I love you all!

A confession of sin

Now, don't get all bent out of shape that I'm doing a 3rd post on confession. This one is completely different from the other 2 about confession. Ironic, though, that confession still fits as the topic. Bear with me, please?

Over the course of this past week, I have had a "spiritual awakening." I won't go into all the "gory" details, but I do feel that it is important for me to share the following confession with you. James 4:17 says, "it is sin to know what you ought to do and then not do it." What I am sharing with you over the course of the next few minutes is my sin from hearing the voice of God loud and clear and not being obedient.

Since you know that I can't make it that simple, let me start at the beginning.

A little more than a year ago, the Lord gave me a Word, a promise, that I heard loud and clear: Isaiah 43:18-19,
“But forget all that—
    it is nothing compared to what I am going to do.
19 For I am about to do something new.
    See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?
I will make a pathway through the wilderness.
    I will create rivers in the dry wasteland."

I don't remember exactly what Bible Study we were doing at the time; it was probably Priscilla Shirer's Armor of God (if I'm going to guess). This Word from the Lord was confirmed for me just a short time later as Hillsong released a new album titled Let There be Light with a new song titled "Behold" based specifically on this verse (a different translation than NLT) along with Pastor Brian Houston preaching a sermon on these verses that is included on the album. 

Women of Joy posted an image on their Facebook page with that exact verse during that same time period! 

Around that time, a co-worker left where I worked and it made me think about who would be the next person to leave. As much as I loved my job teaching, I heard this voice in my head whisper, "It's going to be you, Polly." 

Yeah, Lord, we agreed that I'd leave within the next 5 years. Right. 

"No, sooner." 

Ha. Ha. Ok. 

"I mean it. 'Behold, I am about to do a new thing.'" 

Well, Lord, You'd better tell James, then! Because he'll kill me if I leave this job and all the benefits. I'm scared out of my mind even to mention it to him.

Over the course of the next months, things went downhill for me at work. I made mistakes and got in trouble for things that had not ever been a problem in the seventeen-and-a-half years I had been there. In October of last year, things came to a head and I had my first official write-up.

I was so devasted and things went from bad to worse so quickly that I entered mandatory counseling and was soon diagnosed as Bipolar with PTSD and Adjustment Disorder. (I had been diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety years prior.) During this time, I saw a total of three separate therapists: 1 counselor (school-sponsored EAP), 1 psychologist who prescribed my new meds, and 1 psychologist to talk to. 

You'd think that with all the help I was getting and the medication I was on that things would have been getting better at work, but they only continued getting worse as each day went by. I was beginning to hate the job I loved. I didn't tell too many people, but of the people I did tell, they all recommended that I hold on. Even my psychologists told me that emotionally I couldn't handle leaving my job.

I decided that everyone was right.

The problem was that during all this time, I had also been praying. And I had heard the voice of God loud and long and clear. You know how God spoke to Elijah in a still small voice? Ummm, yeah. This wasn't a still small voice. I had been praying in my car on my way to work, "Lord, should I quit my j....?"

"YES!!!!!!!"

Seriously. I can't express to you on the written screen enough how loud and vocal I heard the voice of God speak to me in that car that morning. It literally scared me. It is truly a miracle that I did not run off the road or have an accident.

I knew that I should have walked into my office as soon as I had a few minutes and write my letter of resignation and say that this would be my last semester.

I heard Him.

But I loved my job. I had been living my dream. Do you realize that I had wanted to teach since I was three years old? I never went to preschool, so I didn't even know what school was yet. For 17-1/2 years, I had been living my dream. How does one walk away from THAT????

I loved my kids. I still do. I always will. And they will ALWAYS be MY kids. I love you guys!!!!

Mom and Dad had taught me not to ever quit until I had another job lined up. I certainly didn't have that. I hadn't even considered what I'd do. All I knew was that I wanted to write. Eeek! 

James (my husband) was going to kill me! I would be walking away from stability: insurance, steady income, paid sick days, and all the other wonderful things my job with CVCC provided. 

And let's not forget the pride we all had in the fact that I was an English Instructor at a community college who had recently acquired the title "Senior Professor." And who had just last year been nominated Teacher of the Year. Even Samuel, my son, has always taken a certain amount of pride in the fact that his mom taught at the local community college--where he would eventually attend as a student.

So instead of listening to the voice of God, I questioned whether or not what I had heard was real. I mean, have you ever heard God's voice that vocal before and that quickly?? I'm embarrassed to admit it, but it scared me. A lot. And it shames me that I was too scared to share it with anyone. 

I had not forgotten His promise from a year ago Isaiah 43:18-19--the "new thing" He was going to do in my life. I had not forgotten that He had told me I would be leaving my school within the year. 

But. . .

Oh, my dear Precious Lord Jesus, forgive me.

I confess my sin. My heart hurts. As much pain as I have been in over the course of the past month--I could have saved myself so much of it if I had been obedient when I first heard the voice of the Lord. My sorrow has been great, my friends. It pains me to know that even after all these years, I still fail.

But so did Peter. And David. And Adam. And so many other Bible greats. The Bible tells us that we ALL have sinned and have fallen short of the glory of God. But as 1 John 1:9 tells us, "But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness." 

Thank You, Jesus. So, my friends. I am confessing my sins to Him and to you. I need complete forgiveness and complete cleansing in order to move forward in the "new thing" He has for me. I covet your prayers and words of encouragement.

Thank You, Lord, for Your forgiveness, mercy, and grace.

One more confession to make

I have one more confession to make. . . .

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be vulnerable?

Ok. Ok. For those of you who know me, the real me, it is not difficult at all. I don't mind sharing--anything. But that's with people I know and love. It is difficult to share the real me with people I don't know well--and who will judge me. I am deathly afraid of sharing the real part of me that will be judged by others.

But the real truth is that I don't care what anyone thinks about me.

I love me. I love myself. I love who Polly Anna is. I know who I am in Jesus. I am proud of the woman Jesus has made me. I like

me. I like the loud Polly. I don't mind it at all. I love my laugh. I love my JOY. I love the fact that I embrace life. I love that I love with everything I am. I love how I love. I love that I have always known what I want and I go after it. I love my personality. I love FEELING--even the bad. I don't mind my tears even though my tears can be sobs that shake my body to the core. They don't scare me. Even my anger doesn't scare me. It can be intense, but I feel it deep in my soul, just as I do everything else. I feel love deep in my soul. I always thought everyone else did, too. I like ME. I Love ME. I Love Polly Anna. 

Sure I have days of low self-esteem. Who doesn't? Especially when someone says mean things or tells me I'm too loud or complains about something else. But when I stop and I take inventory and evaluate myself--who I am, I love ME. And I don't care whether you do or not. So go ahead and judge. 

If you are uncomfortable with the fact that I shared my vulnerability in my previous blog post--that I'm not doing ok right now, I'm not sorry. That's your problem. That is something you need to deal with. I hope you find a way to take your own mask off and love yourself enough to be vulnerable with others. I, for one, am done pretending to be someone I'm not.

I'm tired of being judged, bullied, and treated as a social pariah. I'm tired

of others making me feel as if being "different" is a bad thing. My mom always told me that it's ok to be different. And you know what? My Momma is right. It's those who are different who make a difference in the world. I don't like fitting in. Why in the world would I want to fit in when I was born to stand out? It's the oddballs who get noticed. It's the strange folks who end up being remembered. I don't want to be a lemming. I don't want to be a member of the lottery. I want to be a voice who says, "No!" The only way to make that happen is to be different. I'm very ok with that.

If my loudness or hugginess or other eccentricities bother you, I will not apologize for any part of who I am. I don't do any of it to make you uncomfortable or out of meanness or to disrupt your life in any way, shape, form, or fashion. I want to respect you. If who I am makes you uncomfortable, then, just like we do with Facebook, keep scrolling--just keep walking. But don't be mean.

Because I LOVE myself. And you should LOVE yourself, too, because you're pretty great, too, because both of us are just the way we are meant to be. I lika you and you lika me and we lika both the same. I am not scared of my vulnerability. All I can do is hope and pray that you can at least respect that.

I have a confession to make

I truly do have a confession to make. It's not a secret. But it's a difficult confession to make. In spite of the fact that I have been seeking JOY--in spite of the fact that I know that God has given me more JOY than others--in spite of the fact that I have found JOY regardless of the difficult times I have been through. . .that does not mean that I do not still struggle to find JOY on a day-to-day basis--to CHOOSE JOY every single day.

I know. I know.

I have been studying JOY now steadily since 2009. That is almost 10 full years of studying one idea, one word, one Biblical concept. You'd think I'd have it ingrained deep in my very soul by now. And I do. At least, for the most part. 

• I have spent almost every single day for two and a half years straight, more than 730 days, posting in Facebook at least one thing that brings me JOY. 
• I have read every book on JOY that I can get my hands on--almost 50 books total.
• I have completed every Bible Study on JOY that I have found (I've included the count in my books).
• I continue to memorize Bible verses on JOY in as many translations as possible--and there are hundreds of JOY verses.
• I write about JOY in this blog.
• I have JOY t-shirts and other JOY paraphernalia--I even just bought a pair of the new Skechers Go Walk Joy Sneakers.

But I am not perfect. I am not Paul of the Biblical Paul. I do not find myself capable of singing for JOY as I am in my current difficult situation. Rather than singing songs of Praise, I find myself sobbing at every turn, screaming in anger at those I love just because they're close enough for me to project my anger onto, not caring who I hurt, not living, and sobbing a whole lot more. Worst of all, I am not CHOOSING JOY.

I have no desire to CHOOSE JOY. The pain goes so deep that JOY is the last thing on my mind. All I can think of is the hurt I feel. I am so sick and tired of the hurt. When a person has been through all that I have, when is enough ENOUGH? 

Huh, Lord? When is enough ENOUGH???? 

I AM NOT STRONG ENOUGH.

I do NOT Have enough JOY to handle all that is going on or that has happened.

I want to to be able to pull myself up by my bootstraps, CHOOSE JOY, smile, and show you that it can be done--that you CAN choose JOY regardless of what you have been through. That no matter what, God IS ENOUGH.

In my heart of hearts, I know that is true. And I know that I will eventually come to the place when I will be able to CHOOSE JOY again. But for right now, my heart just hurts and I don't have the energy to do anything more than rest in my Savior's arms. For now, I will let Him comfort me. I will cry on His shoulder. I will wait for His direction. I will let Him carry me because I don't have the strength to go any further on my own right now.

I know my Lord will use this time I am going through to help me grow in my faith and to be better used by Him for His glory, but I sure don't like this refining process right now. All I can do is pray that God is something super amazing for me on the other side because right now? I'm broken and JOY is the last thing on my mind.