Saturday, May 11, 2013

Where's your sign

I am reading our old blog tonight and ran across this one I wrote in 2008 and I think it is SO applicable to what I wrote earlier tonight.....sweet kids of mine~ Always remember you never know what kind of "sign" someone may be wearing.

What's your sign

Probably not what your expecting considering the title but here goes:

Well, I just ranted and raved enough that I am spent. As I was writing my mad words God started knocking on my heart. Everyone has a soapbox, everyone has problems. Tenille, _______ did not mean to hurt your feelings, she was kidding. How many times have you done that same thing Tenille??? It does not even have to be someone’s personal problem…it could be their life situation. Comments made carelessly that cut deep, hurt someone. I am awful about it….seems I can’t keep my mouth shut and am always making careless statements.  Don’t you wish that everyone just wore a sign around their neck….I’m sick, I lost a child, I’m an alcoholic, I have been abused, having a bad day, etc. This would make is so much easier for us to be compassionate about a sharp word or bad attitude or maybe an ugly look. We don’t have that “easy pass” to understanding. God called us to turn the other cheek, love the unlovable, be compassionate, loving, and understanding…even when it is hard. In fact, He wants us to love even more so when it is difficult. As Christians we have the awesome privilege of laying our sign at the feet of Jesus. He knows, He understands, He wants us to let Him take away our hurts, our soap boxes, our jealousies, selfish desires and get real with Him. Find joy, happiness, peace, love, and all that He has promised us. Does it take away circumstances or situations that are unbearable? No, but it will help us clarify our focus and realize this world is short and our sole purpose is to glorify Him. This is not about us.  
So I apologize. It was pure selfishness speaking earlier with a little bit of desire for people, maybe just one, to understand where we are coming from and just be happy for us as we make this journey.

It is so easy for me to spill my guts on these pages and my momma will tell you this in NOTHING like me face to face. I get this pained expression, different tone of voice, and won’t even really look you in the eye most times to tell you anything this personal about myself.  It makes me feel like I am sitting before people naked as a jaybird! I am laying it out here because I feel that I am not alone in these feelings and someone might understand; get one tiny bit of encouragement from me getting honest with myself. I think I keep telling you guys this so you won't expect these kind of talks when I see you....haha! 
So…what’s your sign?

Give it to Jesus....

Posted by tenille on 04/02/08 at 10:58 | Comments (8) | Trackbacks (0)

Heal the Wound

My new song obsession.....

I used to wish that I could rewrite history
I used to dream that each mistake could be erased
Then I could just pretend
I never knew me back then

I used to pray that You would take this shame away
Hide all the evidence of who I've been
But it's the memory of
The place You brought me from
That keeps me on my knees
And even though I'm free

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar

I have not lived a life that boasts of anything
I don't take pride in what I bring
But I'll build an altar with
The rubble that You've found me in
And every stone will sing
Of what You can redeem

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar

Don't let me forget
Everything You've done for me
Don't let me forget
The beauty in the suffering

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar 

re-post from my old blog on 5/1/05, still a favorite......

Summing up motherhood for me.......

I see myself, Tiffany, and mom sitting at McClard's on exactly a year ago yesterday telling them we were expecting Lexi and how both of them were probably thinking a lot of these things and how little I knew and was prepared for something as amazing as Lexi. I tell people it is the best thing I have ever done and that doesn't even give it enough glory to me because how little I have done compared to having Lexi. I praise God everyday for giving me this blessing. I cried and cried when I read this.

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter
casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of  "starting a family." "We're taking a survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?" "It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on
weekends, no more spontaneous vacations." But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional
wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.
That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will
reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments hesitation. I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right. I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major
dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.
However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.
That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic. I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.
I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.
My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who
stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

Please share this with a Mom that you know or all of your

girlfriends who may someday be Moms.

May you always have in your arms, the one who is in your heart.

Life lesson # who knows

Dear Lexi, Lauren, and Will,

It has been too long since I have written. I have been silent when I should have spoken more than once that is for sure. It is not because I have not written in my head and poured out my heart in thoughts of things I want you to know and hear from me as you grow. Tonight, the urge was just too strong and I had to get up out of bed and come put the words on paper. This does not mean they are that just means I am trying to be more intentional. :)

This week my feeling were hurt. They were hurt in a raw, deep, and soul searching way. My very character was questioned and it brought out the ugly cry. I don't think the person hurt me intentionally as they were very angry and were looking through different colored glasses than I wear.....that being said, as I was reading tonight this quote jumped out at me. "Satan loves it when we do his work for him by dumping on each other." Lisa TerKeurst. Wow, just WOW! That is exactly what happened to me. I have always had a very weak tolerance of being judged  by how a certain mold of how I "should" be or what I was "expected" to be.....when this happens I usually lash out and lash out in a pretty good way...."pretty good" meaning tear either the person or situation a part with a tongue lashing. This time I didn't. It felt good that I didn' At the time, I wanted to ummmm rip the person a new one but somehow refrained.
This was grace. Jesus quietly whispered to me to hand over some grace that I have been so frequently given. Grace, grace God's grace.....grace that will pardon and cleanse within....I have always loved that old song but I saw what it means. When given, it helps you (me) forgive and walk on and not be weighted down by the bitterness that someone may have just tried to drown us in. It feels good too.
Grace....tonight I pray you learn how to not only receive it, because that is hard as well, but also to give it.
My precious babes, mama loves you. I love you with my whole heart and all that I am. I am beyond blessed and underserving of such sweet and perfect love that you share with me. My cup runneth over and always never know how unhappy and messed up on the inside someone may be not matter if the outside is cleaned up to perfection.

Give grace regardless of how it is packaged.

I love you,