Sometimes the power of a story takes time. We all have a story. Where we came from, who our family is, where we went to school, and on and on. Each experience influences who we are and who we become.
For some, that story has things we keep covered; shame, guilt, unforgiveness are some of the things kept out of view. After all, airing our dirty laundry serves no good purpose; therefore we can create the image we want others to see.
Sometimes we don’t even know how lost we have become in the image we have created. Then God may step in and unravel what we have built.
Moving was not my finest hour. Phil and the kids were rather energized; they were thinking about meeting new people and experiencing new things, while I was being Pitiful Pearl. All I could see was my dreams had finally come true. We had the house I had dreamed about since I was a little girl; I had earned a college degree; we were part of a great community. This was the life I wanted; this was where I belonged.
There are people who are excited to change locations; who have an adventurous spirit and enjoy expanding their horizons. I didn’t know those people; all I knew was the pain I felt was often suffocating and fear was slowly conquering what little faith I had left. The big faith I professed was nowhere to be found.
Phil was already in Grand Prairie while the kids and I were making sure the practical side of moving was happening. Goodbye parties, paperwork for changing schools, and names changed on the utilities were just some of the business side of relocating.
I was so grateful for the porch swing; it was there I would go to breathe when the weight of the world was too much.
We were leaving behind a life of comfort where we knew everyone and everyone knew us. Now all our worldly belongings were being tightly packed into a moving van. I knew what I was leaving but I didn’t know what life would be like there. I was fighting an endless battle of thoughts and emotions.
We found a rental house weeks earlier and it needed work. Phil worked at his new job during the day and spent the evenings pulling up old, worn carpet. The previous renters had cats; the carpet had to go and the Landlord agreed. Phil was determined to make the transition as smoothly as possible and help all of us feel more at home. That was a tall order but one he was determined to fill.
It took most of the day to unload the moving van and even with friends who had traveled the distance to help, we were given out. Reality was setting in when they left. We were here to begin a new chapter, one I wasn’t looking forward to.
The next few days were filled with unboxing, organizing, arranging and crying and not in that order. I had weeks to prepare, time for reality to become real, and I still couldn’t get it together. It was before the days of cell phones so long distance phone calls could cost a small fortune and considered a luxury. But every few days I would call my closest friend who would let me cry and who would just listen. Till she stopped doing that.
I had asked her to pray for me. “I need help,” I had sobbed. “Why did the Lord do this to us? Where is He in this?”
A few days later, my friend called. As I had asked, she prayed, only it wasn’t the answer I wanted. “I prayed”, she calmly and quietly said,” And I know this is what I heard the Lord say.”
“I heard the Lord say, tell her to pray one thing: “how do You see me Lord?”
I sat quietly; this did not make even a little sense! I’m dying over here and this is what you have for me! At least the crying had stopped! But now I was speechless.
My friend restated what she heard, told me to get alone with God, and I would get answers. The phone clicked.
I was sitting Indian style in the floor surrounded by boxes, wondering what in the world was going on. We had a good life in a place where we were known, our kids were thriving, we were growing spiritually and we lived in a beautiful house. I loved that house. I had dreamed of that house since I was a small girl; all my towns friends lived in pretty houses and I would someday. Being poor was all I knew only I didn’t know it till I started school. That was when I discovered the outside world. At an early age I began to believe that if I lived in a beautiful house, had a nice car and pretty clothes then life would be perfect!
Oh the immature mind of a child. That became my measuring stick for success and it didn’t change even as I aged. We had finally reached what I believed to be the beautiful life only to leave it all behind.
Our house was replaced with a rental house where cats had lived and roamed freely! I don’t like cats! And I don’t like their odor. The carpet was gone, fresh paint replaced old painted walls, and even though I was hanging things on the walls to make it look like home it wasn’t and never would be my home!
One day the house was quiet; Phil was at work and the kids were acclimating into their new schools. I was all alone; the boxes were no longer overwhelming and I was feeling the loneliness of starting over in a new place. I had questions.
I kept remembering my friend’s words. “The Lord said, ask Him how He sees you.” That still didn’t make sense. But I had nothing to lose; what other choice did I have?
I had grown accustomed to staying busy; trying not to think but nothing stopped the tears. So I closed the box I was working on, laid down on the floor, and the river of pent up emotions poured out like a dam that had been unclogged. This went on for quite a while; I sobbed till my head hurt unbelievably but I couldn’t get up; I couldn’t move. So I laid, on the floor, for what seemed like hours. Finally, I whispered: “Father, how do You see me; who do You say I am?”
I continued to lay on that hard floor; nothing inside me wanted to move; the room had become quieter than normal. Just as I was beginning to fade into sleep, as in a dream, I could see the porch to our house; the one we left behind. Wisteria was wrapped around the columns and beautiful, purple clusters draped freely. I could almost feel the sunshine on my face as I basked in its beauty. Then I heard a soft voice; not audible but it was so real that I knew it was the Lord. Ever since I had been on this new spiritual journey I had come to recognize an inner voice; it was His voice. I knew Him; I knew He knew me; so why was that the prayer I was to pray? He knew me!
It was as a soothing whisper; “That wisteria is wrapped around those columns; it’s beautiful! But you don’t see the columns; they are all camouflaged yet they are equally beautiful. That’s what you have done; you have covered over your own beauty and uniqueness. Houses, cars, clothes and status do not make you who you are. I made you to stand alone; I make you who you are. I want to find the person I created; not the one you created.”
The Lord did know me! It was me; I didn’t know who I was. Early in my childhood I had developed an unhealthy belief: I wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t smart enough, we were poor, and that thinking had caused me to see myself through a very warped lens. Father God, in His goodness and mercy, was setting me free to be me!
We were all on a new journey but my part of that journey was one of healing. I have heard it said, “God doesn’t call the equipped, but He equips the called.” There was a plan and purpose for all of us; but first things first…..I had to be set free. Too many go through life saying things like, “this is just the way I am; I don’t know why I can’t get over….(fill in the blank);” and we live life through a wrong mindset that changes how we see life; how we see ourselves in that life. Over time we accept our limitations and miss out on God’s best life.
What a journey when God is leading the way and showing you things, wonders, and the beautiful plans He has had all along. I no longer see me through a warped lens but it has taken many years. The battlefield of the mind is real. We can easily relapse into our old ways. John 10:10 says, “Satan roams around looking for whom he can devour.” The good news is when the Father opens our eyes to Him and His truth, the world doesn’t change; eventually we change how we see ourselves.
As I wrote in my last blog, Phil had buildings to build and I had young people to help. Like me, they each had a story. Many needed someone to show them what their lives could look and be like. Learning to see yourself as God sees you is freeing but not easy. For some there had been years of others telling them who they are, what they can and can’t do. They believed choices defined who they were. In plain words, they needed to know who God says they are.
My story opened a door for others to find hope that life held more than they had settled for. The first time I told my story was not easy; I was used to putting my best foot forward and hiding anything that remotely resembled not having it altogether. Not that day; transparency and vulnerability became real.
The first few years were difficult and often emotional as I stepped out of my comfort zone and into a world of young teens who needed someone to show them what their lives could be. Many of them were trapped in believing a lie that life was over and dreams were gone. I could relate, but more importantly I could show them the truth.
Over the next few years we had over a 90% graduation rate and more importantly, we were graduating teens who had more than skills; they had newfound hope and a belief that God had a purpose and plan!
What changed? They changed how they saw life and how they saw themselves in that life. They learned they weren’t defined by choices or society; where they came from or the mistakes they made helped make them stronger and better. The prison bars of wrong mindsets didn’t hold them captive any longer.
God became part of the equation; the bible says truth sets us free and it does.
I still see many of them, and Facebook has opened up an even bigger opportunity to connecting. God’s plan is so much bigger than just us; being part of helping others grow and find their unique plan and purpose is rewarding and humbling at the same time.
I certainly did not have all the answers but I had a story that I could tell and that is what God asked me to do. So I did that.
Tell your story; tell what God did for you. Someone needs to hear it. That is the power of a story.
Selah…..