Sticking Where God Said to Go

 I've probably posted about this before but the story continues. 

Sun.,Sept. 25, 2022, I had planned to go to a church 4 miles from where I live. Half way through getting ready, I clearly heard, "Go to Mansfield." I knew the church that God was talking about. But I didn't know the name if it or the address. I argued that the drive is 25 miles one way, that I hate driving that far for anything in a regular basis, that I only know one person at that church, that I'm gonna be late. I hate going where I've never been. But He kept saying those three words, "Go to Mansfield."

Then I get a text from the person I had planned to meet with at the church 4 miles away that they would not be going to church that morning. Okay God, I get the picture.

I've been so touched every time I enter that place. I'm changing, learning, and on an exponential healing trajectory. I've been in tears every single time that I go. 

I've attended every week without even a desire to argue against going. This is a complete opposite of the previous 14 years.

Since the closing of the church I was attending in 2008, I've had every excuse imaginable for not going. I've visited and had a few times of attending consecutive services at various churches during that time. But the connection wasn't happening. I even went back to the previous church that my closed church had been planted out of, nothing. I hate the thought of church hopping, so I didn't. I thought the lack of connection was due to distance of so many of the places I attended. But there wasn't a connection 1 mile away either. I didn't feel like I fit in. Like I had to meet certain expectations to fit. Like i had to dress a certain way. (Honestly by Sunday I just want to be in a t-shirt and jeans.) Some churches I would walk in, be there the entire service and walk out meeting nobody. I think they were so big they didn't know I was new. Others I walked in, one or two would say hello but nothing further. Others I would walk in, initiate conversation but still nothing further, other than they would immediately want me to be involved in things I had no desire to be involved in. Primarily kids ministry. "Oh you're a teacher, . . . ." "Yes, but I'm doing that 5 to 6 days a week. I'm exhausted, done. Little ones are exhausting. I know! I have little nieces!" And Sunday is my day to rest after working 50, 60, or even 70 hrs a week, so sometimes I need sleep, not another alarm to get up early enough to be somewhere preparing to teach. 

So I've landed in a church 25 miles away. A few connections are happening. I still don't know everybody. I've worn a t-shirt and jeans since day 1. And nobody has had anything negative to say about it. I don't feel like I'm in "high church" where you're gawked at if you don't wear the "appropriate attire". (I hate clothes shopping. I need help.) I don't have to work with the kids unless I want to. Every single time I've had a meaningful conversation with somebody. Things are reciprocal. I'm allowed to be a part of the clean up even if I didn't sign up. People give and take hugs! I'm being challenged and growing as a result.

This church is not like any I've ever been in. No pyramid to try to work towards the top to be somebody. No groups that you are "band" from being part of just because you're not part of that click.

Have I agreed with everything? NO! I don't think such a place exists. But they're okay with my not agreeing. They're not going to kick me out. There is a respectful agree to disagree. I still get to be part of the family, not just a side kick.

Besides, God said, "Go to Mansfield." And until He tells me different, that's where I am. And I'm going to do what He's telling me to do. And I'm going to say what He tells me to say. And along the way, I'm endeavoring to say and do nothing more and nothing less. 

My Teachers and Career

I was reading about a teacher who won a very prestigious award for the subject that she teaches. That got me thinking about my career and the teachers I've had. 

Awards are nice. Recognition is very appreciated. But the real reward is seeing kids turn from "I'm here because I have to be." or "I'm not good at math." to "Oh, I get it. I can do this! I can be successful. I can learn." Sometimes the data does not show all the successes. 

The kid who is taking the class again, goes through 1st semester the same way he went through the whole year last year. But then something clicks and there is more work ethic in class. He realizes that I'm willing to work with him but I can't do things for him. 

The other kid who tells you the first week of school that her goal this year is to stay out of trouble and not fight anybody, so she figures she just needs to stay clear from everybody. Success! Now she's applying to a summer institute where she'll learn even more about what leadership means. Additionally, she's moved from being a good student to an excellent student. She's willing to risk speaking up in class and work with others instead of avoiding them. 

The list could continue over 100 times every year. Fourteen years and counting. 

I think of my teachers. My academic challenge was comprehending what I was reading the first time I read something. I still have to reread things at times. 

Ruth Ross, 2nd grade, where I learned reading and phonics and to love learning. I saw hope in her eyes. Where I first started enjoying math.

Earlene McCune, 4th grade, where I learned to accept challenges in learning and saw safety in her eyes. She gave us those speed tests for math facts. Amanda Redman, music, where I started having the passion to sing and play instruments and whose eyes have always been filled with joy.

Ferrell McKay, 5th grade and drill team, I learned persistence and saw the willingness she had to let me keep trying. 

Ron Frech, basketball coach and math, where I learned that some things require practice and persistence and who had a passion for the game as well as the ethic we were learning. He also helped with that love of math. 

Mrs. Box, middle school history, where I learned that the past tells us how we got where we are and yet again, eyes that had a message of safety.

Nancy Cathey, high school music, who took me all over the state for competition, ensembles, choirs, solos and all the way to state. 

Mrs. Trout, typing, where I learned there are reasons to do certain things certain ways. I'm so glad my grandmother highly advised that I take that class. 

Terry Shaklee, 4 years of high school math, yearbook, journalism, senior English, where I learned how to learn. She's probably appalled at my punctuation and run on sentences, at times. I learned persistence for excellence, increased in being self-motivated, and that I had enough talent to do almost anything I wanted.

Linda Baird, SNU School of Nursing, who believed in me. Where I learned I could regardless of most telling me I wouldn't be successful. 

Stephanie Shellenberger, SNU athletics, who I do wanted to play volleyball for but the financial aspect was in the way. But she believed in me. She always wanted to know how I was doing. 

Even over the past 14 years, I've gleaned from others: Virginia Dean, Betsy Norris, Dr. Pam Littleton, Jennifer Nicholson, Brenda Lampman, Melinda Brock, Jeana Schweikhard, Monita Sharpe, Melissa Rincon, Mitch Lindsey. 

I know I'm missing others. I'm sorry. 

Did I have some that were not all that great? Sure. But even from those, I've hopefully learned. 

I repeatedly tell my kids that sometimes the best learning is from our mistakes and to accept mistakes as learning opportunities. Hopefully, they don't have to learn from my mistakes too many times. Hopefully, when I make mistakes, they see that I'm willing to own up to it and adjust to make things right.

 Teaching is challenging in so many levels. Probably more so now than at any time. But then again, maybe not. Maybe the challenges are just different. I know I have to repeatedly remind myself why I teach. If I focus too much on the politics in education, I would walk away today and find a different job. Teaching is about the kids not the institutions expectations. 

PTSD Is Real

Yesterday, 1-1-2023, I became more aware that there are certain words, times, locations that instantly bring back certain feelings that I hope to never feel again. Many have those words that seem to line up like dominoes, waiting for which one will trigger the flood of feelings that for some are extremely overwhelming. I haven't had the TV on for most of the last two weeks. The bombardment of negativity has become offensive and unwelcome. So I've heard little to no news. In a conversation, somebody mentioned a shooting. My memories immediately went to March 1, 2021, when my neighbor friend was killed by gunshot. My sensitivity to these types of events forever changed that day. Everything in me becomes tense and on high alert. The conversation continued recalling various shootings until it reached an event I hadn't thought of in some time, what is known around here as the Wedgewood shooting. Things I witnessed that day came flooding through my brain. And various events and people started scrolling through my memories. Wedgewood. Uvalde. Neighbor friend. Students. And continued to other unrelated events with similar helpless emotions. Christmas 2000. 9-11. Murray Federal Building. When I got home, I sat in my recliner and slept for 3-4 hours. Between all I was trying to take in during the morning service and all that had been said in the conversation at lunch, I was exhausted. (Of course, some of that exhaustion occurs because of my being an ambivert/ introvert.) Events where we have some type of connection, directly or secondarily, tend to build a grid within our brain where we try to sort out what we did and what we should do next time. Sometimes, for the events we were directly involved, we struggle to sort out if we did the right things or if we failed to do something that would have made a difference and kept somebody alive or safer than they were. This is why those who are directly involved in making decisions with such events, often debrief. Those who don't have that opportunity have to find other ways to debrief. Some hold it inside. Some find a way to get the process verbalized. PTSD is real. I have it. I know others who have it. Getting help is vital. For some, getting help feels like surrendering to failure. As I write on this potentially stormy day, more events flood my mind. March 1991 tornado. Fort Worth tornado. Moore tornado. Hurricane Katrina. Hurricane Ike. Hurricane Harvey. We survive. But our reactions are extreme when another similar event happens or even if it simply starts raining. Or we hear a certain word or sound. Or we smell I certain smell. Or we feel something emotionally or physically. Or we see something in particular. We often say nothing because for others such triggers don't exist; therefore, their level of understanding our battle is foreign. Check on the people you're connected to! Even if you don't understand. You don't have to try to fix anything. Don't push for information, but asking questions might be helpful. Listen! Half of healing is verbally processing. They need to know they're not alone in their battle to return to "normal". What I'm learning is that our spiritual enemy is opportunistic, using our humanness and insecurities against us. Lies are developed, things we believe about ourselves. We bought into them, often unknowingly. Sometimes another person said those lies to us. Somebody we trusted. Somebody we should have been able to trust. We could have done better. We should have done this instead of that. Why didn't I remember to do that? God allowed this to try to get our attention. As if God will do anything to get our attention. But He already did what was needed to save us from our sin and to be with us forever. Remember Jesus? Holy Spirit has been showing me the lies I have believed and when I started believing them. Showing me how to stop agreeing with the lies and start agreeing with what God says is true. I still have more to work on. A huge mind shift is happening, even after 45 years of being a Christian. And, yes, God USES events to get our attention. I made a decision on Sept 25, 2021 to go to a church where God said to go. I'm so grateful that I listened and did what I felt like was ridiculous, drive 25 miles to a church instead of the 4 miles I had planned. Since then, I feel like I've been on the upswing of an exponential trajectory (picture an exponential graph). Life is changing. Some of my friends recognize the changes. I feel the changes. I want to hurry the changes. But God's timing is better than mine.

Time for 2023

31Dec2022@5:36 - 6:55pm

My whole day turned on a dime to all kinds of things I did not plan. As a result, I had opportunity to get a picture just after the sun set for the last time in 2022. To get the picture, I went down a road I had never gone down, Rough Rider Rd. There was an empty gravel parking lot that I pulled into. I decided to sit, roll down the window, turn off the engine and lights, and ask God what He had to say. This is what I heard: Time to HEAL. There have been many disappointments, hurts, wrongs done to you, unmet expectations, fears, doubts, insecurities and life not being all you had hoped, up to this point. Now that you understand better about how I see others, you can let go easier, forgive easier, move forward easier, and not be angry with Me. I know you didn't want to be angry but I'm okay with whatever you bring to Me. The more you do this, the less baggage you'll be carrying. But I'm not changing that soft heart. You'll learn how to better handle the feelings. I'm okay with the tears. You've taken some big steps forward in the last couple of months. I've connected you to the people you need in your life for this season. This road is a road less traveled. Few of my followers have found it. I want that to change, but they're where they feel like they're suppose to be right now. You will find that you will live a life you thought was only a dead dream. I've put a DREAM in you that even you don't understand yet. Keep WRITING. You know you communicate better that way. I made you a deep thinker for a reason. I made you to question things for a reason. I made you to want to research things for a reason. This will also require LISTENING. Be prepared that some will not agree with what you write. Don't worry about that. What goes on between you and I is more important. And you're going to be speaking more, so get ready. Make CONNECTIONS. All kinds of connections but only the connections I direct you to make. I will show you what type of connection each one will be. Have PATIENCE because others have to deal with their own situations before certain connections are acceptable. I've put people in your path who have worked hard to have a better understanding of grace, mercy, and unconditional love. They have learned what My kingdom is and is not. I really want to blow your mind, knock your socks off, and fulfill your wildest dreams. I'm thrilled you took Me up on making that trip that Sunday morning back in Sept, (Sept 25th), to the church I have you at now. I'm thrilled that you dove in and keep diving in. Don't ignore that hunger inside of you to build on this relationship we have. (A hunger for God that I felt like I had lost for the last 10-15 years. Like there was nothing I could do to get back to that hungry relationship.) You're okay. I've got you! I'll never let you go. Rest and be amazed.

He Never Fails

 He Never Fails

The ontology of God
Does not include failure.
The nature of God
Does not include failure.
Therefore, God cannot fail!
Not possible!
That means, as a child of God,
I win!
Even if I feel like I lost.

I win the race!
Even if I can barely walk.
I can run on water!
Even if I feel like I'm drowning.

I succeed!
Even if the world says I fail.
I can stand strong!
Even if my feet can't hold me up.

I can live with joy!
Even if all I can do is cry.
I can live in peace!
Even if I'm surrounded and bombarded with turmoil and chaos.
I can still love them!
Even though they don't know what they do.

I can still live!
Even though the enemy says I should not.
I still belong!
Even if others don't want me.
I still have the mind of Christ!
Even if I feel like I'm going crazy.

God is still fascinated with me!
Even if I prefer a t-shirt and jeans.
I'm still an important piece of the puzzle!
Even if I feel like I don't fit in.

I'm a child of God.
Which means I have the perfect Daddy,
Who gives me what I need
And is more patient than my human mind will ever, ever understand.
I'm so glad He has not,
Cannot,
And never will fail.

 

Loss of a Pet

Recently (4 days before Christmas) my sweet fur baby passed away. Living with a pet inside the home makes them family even more so than when your animals live outside the house. Let me just say, I haven't grieved this much since my grandfather passed away.
She was fine that morning, the routine was very normal for a very chilly morning. BARK. The first bark of the morning was always my alarm clock to get out of bed. BARK. The second bark of the morning was "Feed me."  Yes, she ignored my opening the doggy door. Breakfast came before going out to potty. After she ate, she wouldn't go potty unless I told her to. Then she would run out her doggy door, do her business and come back in and BARK.  The 3rd bark of the day was, "I'm ready for my morning treat."  Then we would sit on the sofa. She would lay beside me and paw at me if I didn't start giving her an ear massage quick enough.

Eventually, she would get up and BARK. Which meant, "Time for your breakfast. You can drop something for me if you want. I'll make sure to clean it up."  I would get my breakfast. Sit in the living room. Watch the news. BARK. This time she was telling me to get up and get ready for work. I would head to the bathroom. She would lay down by the bathroom door. 

Occasionally, she would stick her nose around the door to look in at the shower. She has done this since the day I adopted her. Before, when there was a shower curtain, I would see her little nose and whiskers stick through the edge of the shower curtain, thus one of her nicknames was Mousey.  If I took too long to get ready, BARK. This bark would mean, "You need to leave."  I knew she was a big part of my life but now I realize how much of my life she was. 

Yes, she had a barking routine in the afternoon when I would get home from work. But before that would start, she had this little dance and putting up her paw to indicate to me, "Come down here and give me some attention."  And so I would.  Then BARK, "Feed me!" BARK, "Give me my treat." Then we would have the "go potty" game where she would run out the doggy door and right back in. She had a bladder of steel. If i arrived and woke her up, she needed to go potty but getting attention and food were priorities, so I would have to tell her to go potty.  She would go out the door and "fake me out" with trying to run right back in. "You didn't go potty. Go potty."  Or she would go half way to the door and stop, waiting for me to insist that she go potty. She did a wonderful job at making me laugh every single day that she was with me.

Tuesday, Dec. 20, 2016, when I arrived home from work, everything changed. I found her laying on her tummy in the living room. As soon as she saw me she started wagging her tail, but she couldn't get up. Something was wrong, very wrong. I sent texts and called, trying to find somebody to help me. The vet office was closed. I needed to find a 24 hr vet. Finally, a friend called back, gave me info on a 24 hr vet and said, "I'll meet you there." 

I tried to stay calm, but wasn't doing a very good job of it. What was wrong with my baby? Did she hurt her back or leg. She wasn't yelping in pain. My neighbor came to help me get her in the car. I drove, trying to stay legal yet wanting to drive faster than ever before. Kept my flashers on to try to indicate that I was driving to emergency. I carried her in. Now the look on her face was the look that something was very wrong. She wasn't excited to see anybody, but still tried to wag her tail some. The vet didn't have any good news. Internal bleeding which will happen again. Tumors. Only aggressive measures might give her a couple of more months. Damn cancer!  That stuff is the worst thing on earth. Nothing could be done to fix her. I couldn't do anything to fix my baby. We were there for hours. I held her. Another one of my friends brought her soft serve ice cream like we use to get once a year at Sonic after her rabies shot. I held her some more. I held her to her last minute and beyond.

Thursday, Dec 29, 2016, I buried my baby at Smoke Rise Farm Pet Cemetery. I petted her one last time, giving her one last ear massage. I carried her to her grave. I helped lower her in. I gave her all her favorite toys and watched as Michael, on of the workers there, gently covered her with her blanket and buried her.

Now this place is quiet. No 3rd alarm clock. No four legger bossing me around. Nobody greets me at the door. Nobody is here waiting for a hug and love. The last 4 weeks have been some of the most difficult weeks of my life. Lonely, Quiet. Only the good memories are left. I still catch myself looking for her, almost calling for her when I get home, looking to see if there is water in her bowl, and wishing she was here to hug me.  There is nobody to travel with me to grandma's (her grandma's) house.  Sochi, the neighbor's dog, came looking for her yesterday. Snuggles, mom's dog, was very puzzled that she didn't come with me at Christmas. Harley, Abby, and Billy (a friend's dogs) don't understand why I don't bring her for play dates anymore.

My sweet Valee, I miss you so much. I miss all of your quirks, your loving everybody that you saw, your companionship, your love. You made me laugh, You helped me live. You loved well.

American Family Farmers

I just saw this video and did it ever bring back the memories. I drove many hours in the wheat, alfalfa, corn, and maize fields on a John Deere tractor for my grandfather. Now his son runs the farm. 

My uncle is a 3rd generation farmer and 2 of his daughters have married guys who are in the cattle business. 

My brother has tried his hand at raising calves, but he is much more talented at being an entrepreneur and doing contracted sales. And I'm quite proud of him and his successes. He is also a very good cook! Somehow, I suspect that many years from now he will settle back into the farming aspect or back into a catering business, which he has been successful with in the past. He definitely knows how to cook up the meat, chicken, or turkey!

But meanwhile, I would like to contribute to making this video go viral. I would love to see that happen, not in order to change the Peterson Farm Bros' lives, but to bring some recognition back to part of the backbone of this country. 

Frankly, the price of wheat or anything else that the family farmer makes is not much more, if any more at all, than when I was a kid. Yet, the consumer pays way more for the food items in the store. As a result, this has almost made the American family farms extinct and overruled by commercial farmers. 

I'm here to tell you that commercial farmers are, for the most part, out to make the money, regardless of the cost of our health. There are a few commercial farmers that are conscientious about how they produce food, but they're few and far between. On the other hand, the American family farmers are much more conscientious because the same food they send to market they're also putting on their own dinner tables. (I wonder how many commercial farmers don't eat their own products because they know the health consequences.)

Anyhow, thank you Peterson family for allowing those boys of yours to bring the American family farm back in front of the public's eye.