Can I breathe?

Where have I been? Who am I now? These are questions that I seem to ask myself a lot lately. Looking back, I can't go back to where to was... to being who I was.  I'm altogether different.

I find myself vacillating lately. I'm fighting the thoughts in my head- feeling like I should be in a different place than being tempted to stay in a position of mourning my losses.

I feel the pain of catastrophe's wake. I feel the need to rebuild. Wanting to grieve over what was stolen from me, yet fully aware of the blessing of new life and a second chance that I've been given. It's like my feet are firmly planted where they should be- in victory, but I haven't really gotten my butt up off of the ground yet.

You see, I'm pretty good at physically moving forward. It's my mind that needs a little more time. It needs a little more help. I have a lot of renewing to do.

Through it all I know that God is faithful. Through it all I know that things always get better. I know I am stronger, braver, wiser and more determined than before. Yet, I pray for strength in my dealings.

I have this intrinsic need to feel more victorious. Like being able to walk isn't victory enough. I want to reclaim everything that was lost...with violence.

As you can tell, there is a torrent of thoughts swirling in my head. Thoughts I've only now finally decided to pen. I've tried to write the story at least five times before since May. Today, I decided to finally settle upon how I feel today... and what a place this is. :-)

There will be highs and lows to my journey, but no matter what, I am determined to move forward everyday. That's what counts. That is what will change everything.

Now,  if I can just remember to breathe... :-)

Love,


-Mel

The Necessity of Dignity

If there was one thing that I am taking from this experience, it is the beauty and necessity of dignity. When I first arrived at the hospital, I was completely helpless. I could not lift my hand to drink water. I could not dress or bathe myself. I could not cover myself with a blanket if I was cold. I was entirely at the whim of my caregivers...and I was fine with it. My body was so badly broken that I found comfort in being cared for. I felt valued. I began to bask in the needed attention that I was being given- until I grew stronger.

As soon as I happened upon the Rehab Ward, I realized that I had been given the green light to try. As I wheeled through the halls and glanced at the state of my neighbors, I soon realized that I was the youngest patient here. I saw the feeble wrinkled bodies of my peers. I saw where the atrophies of life had taken their toll. I realized that I was far from where I believed many of these individuals were- at a place of giving up...maybe even at a place of being ready and willing to die.

If I was to survive at all in an environment like this, I knew I had to set my heart and mind like flint in the direction of health and healing. I intrinsically vowed that everyday that I found myself to be here, I would give 100% until I was ready to go home.

As the days went by, I watched as the tasks that I had to complete went from the status’ of needing assistance, to me being able to complete the tasks with full independence. I passed challenges of eating, grooming, toileting, getting dressed and bathing. I overcame my fear of scalpels and going to the bathroom alone.

As these milestones occurred, I also noticed that I began to be treated differently. I became less of a patient, and more of a counterpart to the staff on the floor. They began to open up to me- sharing stories of their personal lives and hobbies. They shares stories of their dreams and ambitions, families and deepest sorrows. I was entrusted with hearts and was able to take a glimpse into the souls of these caregivers beyond their badges and titles. I felt human again. I felt like a traveller amongst friends.

I recall a time in this very same hospital, many years ago, when these pleasantries would have never been afforded to me. I had MRSA in my blood and found myself to be ostracized in a small wing of the hospital where patients recovered from hysterectomies.

I had recently given birth to my oldest son at 24 weeks gestation, and he was fighting for his life in the NICU. Little did he know that I too was fighting for mine. The strongest medicines the hospital were not working for me. I broke out in a painful rash on my body. I had many fevers, sometimes to 104 degrees and my husband was constantly fighting to advocate for my care.

There was even a time where I would call the nurses for help, and although a cheery voice came on the line, promising assistance, or a meal, no one would ever come. I was in that place for a month. I felt like a prisoner in this very hospital. I remember telling God that I never wanted to come back. I had been completely stripped of my dignity and did not get it back until I was well again.

Fast forward to the present.  The differences between then and now are like those of the night and day, but something happened last night that brought me back to that desperate place.

It was late in the evening, and I was hungry. I recalled how the nurses told me that since I was independent, I was able to check myself off of the floor and go get food, coffee or go shopping within the facility if I desired to. I was closer to going home, so i thought an independent outing would be a wonderful opportunity for me to prepare for “life on the outside.”

I checked myself out, and kindly declined a nurse to escort me. I would be fine. I rolled down the halls and could feel the chill of the night on my skin and in my heart. I was happy to be able to have a nice meal...but I was missing home.

I waited for 10 minutes in line and mentally chose what I would be ordering. Finally it was my turn to order. The woman behind the counter looked down at me and smiled. As her smile faded, she said these words, “Oh, I’m sorry. We don’t serve patients here.”

It was a simple phrase, but I was instantly crushed. In all my striving for independence, and the accolades of achievement, I couldn’t even order a sandwich for dinner. I figured it was because of dietary restrictions of patients there, but I couldn’t stop the tears.

I wheeled down the hall, hiding my face and tried the find the nearest bathroom. I spotted one, but the door was too heavy. Handicap accessible my butt! I rammed my wheelchair into the opening of the door until I could pass through. Immediately, there was another obstacle. I finally cleared it and retreated into the largest stall I could find.

I closed the door and just balled. I could feel my shoulders heaving from the deep sorrow that I felt in my heart. I yelled at the ceiling and told God how unfair this was. I told Him how frustrated I was. It was then that I decided that I wanted to go home. This was how I felt in that lonely ward so many years ago. Helpless and defeated. Broken and alone. I slammed my fist at the wall in anger and then I stopped... I suddenly realized that this time, something was different.

I didn’t want to put myself into an internal prison. I had worked so hard, why stop now? I said aloud “I refuse to partner with the lie of rejection. I am not rejected. This is just the policy of the hospital.” I immediately began to feel better. Why? Because I changed my mind. I changed the course of where the night could go. I had the opportunity to choose if I was going to cry myself to sleep that night or if I was to overcome.  It was time to overcome.

I left the stall behind and wheeled myself to the door. A stranger on the other side opened it up and smiled at me, saving me from the drudgery of the task. I nodded and went back to my floor feeling a little lighter.

After checking in with my nurse, I came back to my room. Others soon found out what had happened and offered to go and buy a sandwich for me. I thanked them for their regard, but was more than ready to turn in for the night. Their kindness reminded me that I was once again among friends.

What a tough lesson to learn when you face difficult situations! It’s amazing how painful or unexpected experiences can trigger feelings of the past. It was up to me to determine what I was going to do with them. That simple experience is a part of me overcoming my past and the challenges of the present. It was a part of me becoming stronger.

Today I choose to delight in the dignity that has been so graciously given to me. I will remember who I am and not shrink back to a place of weakness and defeat. If you ever find yourself where I was last night, I encourage you to do the same. Embrace bravery and bless everyone you meet with the gift of dignity.

Love,

-Mel

Best Friends Forever:-)

Have you ever been in a place in life where you suddenly felt uprooted after a long period of stability? That's kinda where I've been. There has been so much beauty in being unsettled for me, because it has provided the opportunity for God to highlight some areas in my heart and life that I need to work on. One of these areas is my marriage.

When you find yourself going through the motions in marriage, there can come a time when you don't feel fully alive. Things can be good, but I believe they were meant to be Great!

I'd noticed these comments that my husband and I had been making- wishing for friends, seeking awesome experiences with close friends, but finding few opportunities.  It didn't help that a very close friend of mine recently went back home after an impromptu visit about a week and a half ago. I had forgotten what it was like to have someone chasing you through the house, doing hair or sitting together saying nothing. I had forgotten what real friendship was like.

I was washing dishes the other day in the kitchen and wanted to just chat on the phone with someone. I have hundreds of contacts in my phone, but no one jumped out to me as someone I would just love to chat with for hours about nothing...except my husband.  Hmm. There is something to be said about that. We gravitate to those who know us more than anyone else- those we feel at home with.

So, it was then that I decided to propose something to him. I felt a little silly, but I knew it was something that we both needed. When he came home from work, I asked him if he would officially be my best friend. He said yes:-)

There was a lot of giddy school girl giggling from both sides as we laid out our terms. We would workout together, he would need to learn to do my hair, make-up and nails (preparation for when I'm old and can't put my lipstick on straight.) There would be card games, movie nights, bike rides, escapes out on the town. Most of this stuff we do together anyway, but now it seems like a switch has flipped and we are so much more intentional.

We consider each other more because we are "best friends"- as it should be. I even searched Etsy for matching necklaces- found one with barbells and a metal medallion that said "Swole Mates." Nice and masculine for the hubby. We're definitely having fun with this.

So tonight, we may just snuggle up on the bed with popcorn and watch the Hart of Dixie or do a quick workout in the garage gym after we put the kids to bed tomorrow. Yeah,  I'm starting to get flashbacks of us in high school...but now, it's oh so better:-) I can't wait to see where our friendship takes us! Matching back tattoos? Maybe. lol


-Melody

The Value of Heaven

I've been feeling the weight of loss lately. So many painful tragedies occur. So many lives are cut short. It seems to hurt worse when life is snatched away from the young. 

How can a heart cope? How do you reconcile the loss that you feel in your heart to the continuation of everyday activities when life must go on? Such a question. 

I recall when I was in the thick of facing my own losses. The only thing that would give me some sort of comfort was the reality that heaven had become a lot more valuable. I know it seems simple, but think about it. Many spout sonnets concerning the afterlife, cherubs and streets of gold. I happen to truly believe there is such a place as this paradise- although I don't know what it will look like. Because God reigns there, I know it has got to be good, as He indeed is. Because of His presence there and the presence of my loved ones, this "heaven" is valuable to me. I truly believe I will see them when I pass away. Although the pain of the waiting is tangible, joy comes in the morning. 

In the realization of the value of heaven, I rest in the knowledge that safety and security do not need to be sought down here. Because of His great love, there is no fear in death. I can rest in knowing that even if I pass away, things will turn out ok. I will be fine. My family will survive because they find a home in a loving Savior who can meet all of their needs. 

This tangibly looks like the overwhelming strength that one feels when plagued with sorrow. This looks like moments of great joy that carry you when you've felt like you have no tears left. This looks like community surrounding you and provision given when financial needs are present. 

In the midst of sorrow, God is Here. He is close to the brokenhearted and crushed in spirit. Because of the value of heaven and the precious gift of my life, I choose to hide myself in the wings of my Savior- the one who carries me and shows me daily, the true value of heaven.

Love,

-Melody

The Beauty of Springtime

How many days have gone by since the day you were born? How many mornings have you spent in joy, or in shame? In reluctance or in bliss. In awe or in wonder?

For me, the last 29 years have been a whirlwind. The last 8, a tidal wave of joys and sorrows... but something has happened. The dust has settled, and I'm realizing how long it's been since I've enacted the mores of Melody.

Saturday marked promises fulfilled and new beginnings for me. I realized that it had been almost 8 years since I'd led a worship service. When I actually took the time to count the years, I was dumbfounded. Where have I been? Locked away in my fears? Riding the waves of life? I think it has been all of the above. The blessing in it all is that God is a redeemer of the time, and no precious moment was lost. It's just time to step back into that part of my passion again, and it can only get better.

How about you? What promises or dreams have you left behind? I encourage you to revisit something you may have been staring at longingly as it sits on the shelf collecting dust. Don't be afraid to try. Don't be afraid to make mistakes. You fail? So what. Try again. The next time will be  better. Just don't give up.

There can sometimes be a certain pain to trying again or doing a new thing. Consider these to be growing pains. The stretching and bending of the belief that you are more than what you thought you were. The cracking of broken views and the birth of new ones. The shifting of incomplete ideas as they become melded into a more complete picture of what God intended. In this light, change is a good thing.

My pastor Rachelle was speaking of change at a women's event on Saturday. I can not recall the exact wording, but it went something like this: if you are not changing, you are complacent or stagnant. Could you imagine where you would be in 5 years if you did not conquer fear and move forward in your life? Exactly. You would be in the exact same place that you are today. How disheartening for most to realize such a reality! Maybe some of you already have. If so, then it's time for change.

Ebbs and flows are good. We are made in the image of a loving God who moves with us. He loves the seasons of life. It is evident in how the trees cast their leaves in the fall, or how the sun shines brighter in the spring time. Sometimes we stay in one season of our lives for far too long. We live for years in the winter because of our fears. We may be longing for the springtime but we just sit back and watch while the world passes us by.

My pastor Zack made a beautiful point yesterday in his Sunday message. He said " Sometimes we forget we're alive." Seriously! We do! We can get used to the monotony and frigid cold of winter, We feel the life fleeting from our bones. What we often fail to realize is that winter is not merely death. Winter is the beauty that sets the stage for new life to begin! Old things fall away so that everything can become new! Winter occurs so expansion, abundance and blessing can occur.

Just like the rosebush buds and blooms, it needs the tender care of a gardener to make it come fully alive and release its fragrance to the world. If we are not being pruned, watered, blessed and loved...if we are not living in healthy community and cultivating all of the good things that make us some alive, we will not bud and bloom. Find your place. Come alive. Springtime is here!

Love,

-Mel

A Change of Perspective

Such a beautiful dance of life we live,

An intricate tapestry we roam. 

In the midst of days plummeting on,

and shadows cast of home. 

Dream with me friend, 

in this moment find ,

the one thing you can give.

A cherished belief 

in life and love,

and inaccurate perspective. 

God has been opening my eyes lately to how limited my perspective has been. I was driving around last week, after dropping my mother off at the airport and stumbled across a park. I've driven by this park a few times and had never taken the time to enjoy its beauty. Today, I would.

 

It was frigid for Las Vegas this particular day, but I decided to seek a place to write beneath the trees. I pulled my sweater close to my face as the cool wind swirled around me. My eyes began to water and I felt like I would find no resting place for myself or for my pen. I walked toward one spot as a young man decided to find his place a few feet away- too close. I turned in the opposite direction to find that the only places left were in the parking lot. Feeling a little saddened by the lack of shelter, I decided to walk in another direction. I almost retreated to the car when I saw something. Geese. Huge, fuzzy, fat, honking, orange beaked geese! I hadn't recalled seeing white geese before, so I went to take a closer look. Further into the park were all kinds of birds. Songbirds, pigeons, seagulls, mallards, larks and horned geese all waddling before me. A frigid landscape suddenly turned into a bustling habitat for birds! 

I looked even further to see something shooting into the sky. I assumed it to be a broken sprinkler. Wrong again. It was the fountain to a lake! A man-made lake equipped with a ramp for boating and a drop off for fishing. This outing was just getting better and better.

As I sat by the water, I felt compelled to get out a pen and paper and begin to compose a line drawing of what I could see. I scribbled a flurry of shrubs and conifers...gazebos, mountains and clouds. I smiled at my drawing and felt compelled to look again. My, had I been wrong! The mountains were in the wrong place. The sidewalk didn't extend as far. I'm pretty sure I had missed a gazebo altogether. Although the rendering was beautiful to me, it was all wrong. This was when God began to speak.

He reminded me that although the drawing was lovely, and that there was much truth in my depiction of the scene, my perspective was limited. My limited perspective prevented me from seeing all of the beauty that could be seen in my surroundings. How many more things in my life was I not "seeing" completely? How many more experiences were I not engaging in fully because I came with expectations that prevented me from seeing the beauty of all that there was? 

In the middle of my "aha" moment, I glanced behind me as more perspective shifts unfolded. A nicely dressed man approached a seemingly transient woman who was fishing on the jetty. I had greeted her earlier, not knowing her story. The man proceeded to join her, crouching next to her poles and inspecting the spoils.  They engaged in intimate conversation. It seemed that they knew each other well. 

After this, I heard a voice. A small group with clipboards approached the couple and asked them how their day was. I thought the group worked for the city or the park system. As they came closer, I saw them ask two women walking their dogs if they were interested in taking a faith-based survey. The women declined- one didn't believe in organized religion. The other said she was "spiritual" but not interested. I think this was the first time I had actually heard someone say those words outside of the television. 

I took a breath as the group came near to where I was resting. I looked a little closer to see two men, a young girl and a teenage boy. As they began to speak, my heart told me the truth- we were family in Christ. I answered their questions and they began to smile. They shared with me how difficult it was to find someone who believed in Jesus- they were war torn. They intended to continue to keep at it until "their bodies gave out." My heart ached for them, but I understood. 

I asked if I could pray with them and they obliged. I prayed for physical strength, divine appointments and great joy. I prayed for the young girl who was also an artist- that God would expand her gift. I prayed for the teenage boy- that God would increase his gifts as he showed diligence in pursuing the heart of God. It was a treasured moment, and I would have missed it all if I hadn't turned around to face another direction. 

Sometimes we live our lives without ever turning around. How much do we miss? How much do we leave untouched or unblessed by our influence? 

Changing perspective for me means leaving my past behind. It means being brave enough to move ahead, even when I can't see what is in front of me. The truth is that I am led by the hand of the One who loves me- a Savior who will never lead me astray.

Today I choose to let Him expand my perspective. To wash away the muck from my eyes painted on by past hurts and failures. To choose new lenses. To see as if for the first time. You can too. Try it. The view is so much better this way:-)

Love you dearly,

-Melody

The Aftermath

Take a little bit of life, throw in some tornadoes, an earthquake for good measure. Shake it up and light it all on fire. That's been life for the past couple of weeks... OK maybe not that dramatic, but things have been pretty intense. The most challenging test was to keep my faith strong and to remember that God is truly who He says He is.

What a crazy thing to hold onto when the lights are turned off, or 3 friends discover they have cancer. It's a tough promise to hold onto when the bank account is negative and you have mouths to feed. I  will never leave my children begging for bread...(Psalm 37:25 paraphrased) the whisper of the promise. I will never leave you or forsake you...(Deuteronomy 31:6) I have to believe it, even when I feel abandoned in my circumstances. Though a mother may forget you, I will never forget you. Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands (Isaiah 49:16)...Yes daddy. You see me.

Those truths are what cause me to rise up within myself, close the door on what I can see and believe what He says. Healing WILL come. Life will be found. Cancer will die...all of these curses have been broken for cursed is the one who hangs on a tree (Galatians 3:13). He carried and broke all curses once and for all so that we could be free.

When trauma occurs, one of the tale tale signs for me is forgetfulness and a lack of creativity. When the dust settled, I forgot what I usually feed my kids. Poor things. Their meals have been oatmeal, fruit smoothies, crackers and popcorn for the last week. I don't even know what I've been feeding myself. Thankfully, things are coming back to me now- hence the fact that I am inscribing these words now.

Although my life goes on, I still see from the outside the battles loved ones are facing. All I can do is pray and help where I can. I have moments of great rejoicing when sweet victory is held in our arms.
I've stopped holding my breath and have begun holding on to the promise that God will do what He said He would do and that everything will work out just fine.  This is not only a stance of peace, but one of strength. There is no need to strive in within the arms of promise and steadfast love. You simply dwell, set your heart and mind on Christ-breathed truths and wait...seek, steady yourself and watch as the promises unfold.

If you find yourself in the throes of great testing remember this:

My friends, consider yourselves fortunate when all kinds of trials come your way, for you know that when your faith succeeds in facing such trials, the result is the ability to endure. Make sure that your endurance carries you all the way without failing, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. (James 1:2-4)

So, wind waves be still for you must bow to the promise and command of the King.  Let us all find our place in rest as we wait for complete victories that are already on their way.

Love,

-Mel

SUPERSTRONG.

For as long as I could remember, I thought something was wrong with me. I've been known to binge on food. I've have a huge amount of aggression. I can lift very heavy amounts of weight...I've always been able to. I eat as much as my husband. I don't need a lot of sleep to survive. When I don't feel physically strong, I feel emotionally weak.

 Most of these things are concerns that I have been trying to change for the majority of my life. I wanted to have a "thin" body...but when I did, it didn't look right on me. I "needed" to have a bigger butt- whatever that means. I obviously have my grandfather's genes... on both sides. I'm a strong girl, and I like it. There is little that is dainty about me... unless I'm wearing a dress. I often try to hide the fact that I'm extremely loud and pretty boisterous. I throw my boys around in the air and we growl like wild animals as we crawl across the living room floor. That's what I do.

I used to equate this reality to being more of a "tomboy." Back in the day, there was no other definition. The reality is that you can be extremely strong, yet completely feminine. You can be breathtakingly beautiful and still have some big guns. (In that, I am referring to your arms.) You can be a hard worker, have dirt under your nails, feet that look like you've been climbing trees and still be so very lovely. You can be the complete opposite and still be very lovely. 

I don't know how the idea ever came to my mind that strength was bad. I freaked out one day when my husband and I measured our arms together. Mine was just about an inch smaller than his. I was terrified. In reality, I was just strong. I know if I really tried, I could probably be as physically strong as he is...but I'm sure he'd never let me get that close. He's too competitive.

We had a lovely moment the other night when I was feeling overwhelmed and wanted to run away to the library. As I approached the car, he looked at me with this huge handsome smile and dared me to jump in and join him as he was skipping rope. I almost felt like a kid again. My heart began to race and I found myself letting go and trying. It was the first time in a long time that I had actually tried something new. I'd never jumped rope with my husband like that before. As he twirled the rope, I felt my soul light up. I was connecting to him and to myself. It felt like perfection as we jumped beneath the stars... the kids staring at us from the car wondering what the heck was going on.  I realized then that I needed to stop running from me. I needed to step away from the norm, no matter how many judgments or awkward stares I get. I need to be me.

I happened to stumble across a website today that confirmed that there are so many other women just like me. Looking at the pages, I immediately felt at home in my skin. I felt joyful in my epiphany that I wasn't broken and that God had simply made me strong. Awesome.

Voicing these truths are new to me, so here it is: I am an aggressive, loud, very strong woman who is often messy, loves to paint and sing her heart out before God. I enjoy the burning sensation in my chest after an intense workout and I love to lift heavy weights off of the floor...sometimes to my detriment. I have a tendency to feel I have something to prove. I enjoy needlework, being outdoors and I don't particularly like washing the dishes. I have a tendency to avoid difficult things, drive too fast on city streets, blast my music extremely loud when I am by myself and watch ridiculously cheesy wholesome movies. I have high- sometimes perfectionist personal standards and I often have a really hard time fitting my thighs in my jeans. I love to make the souls of others shine and I can't walk by someone who is in tears without asking them if they are alright.  I have a hard time parting with sentimental papers but I love getting rid of clothes. That's me. That's who I am.

Don't be surprised if I write about joining a boxing gym to train for the next Olympics or enter into a strength competition. It's probably gonna happen this year.

I love the way God made me. I love the way He perfectly knit you together as well. Let's start seeing ourselves as we were truly made to be- Perfectly crafted in the image of a beloved God. Nothing broken. Nothing missing. Nothing to be desired. Just beautiful you.

Have a great weekend.

-Mel

The Anatomy of Love

When you walk into the room, 

Love's heart skips a beat.

He sees your beauty, 

And sweeps you off your feet.

You feel a deep sigh leave your chest,

As worries fade away,

In the embrace of love 

That takes your breath away.

Unadulterated and untainted,

This love is pure.

Birthed in the heart of God, 

Forever yours.

Take heed to this love,

For it will never leave.

Let it overtake your soul.

The only love you need. 

What does love look like? It comes in many forms. In the embrace of a lover. In the precious kiss of a child. In the bending of a loved one who brings fresh water to the lips of those who are parched and thirsty. 

One thing that I know for sure- everyone needs love. I feel we'd die without it. We were meant to be loved- meant to be held in deep regard. Whether this regard is begotten from someone we know cares deeply for us or from the hand of a stranger, we all feel it. 

Warmth floods the soul as something inside whispers "I'm valuable. I'm worth something." I hope you feel this feeling everyday. May your days be painted in dear moments of the purest regard, for you are dearly loved my friend. 

In the winter of your soul, you are loved. When you are deeply broken, you are seen. When you've failed again and again, love promises to be by your side, without judgement because your intrinsic value can never be diluted or removed. Remember this. Write it upon your heart. You are loved. 

This relentless, crazy love is and will always be for you. Love is what you were made for. This is the anatomy of love, and it's as mysterious as an iceberg:-) We've only just tapped the surface. 

Let your heart come alive in this truth today. You. Are. Loved. 

-Mel

It Is Well

So, it was a pretty crazy morning. I woke up to two little boys bombarding my bed with sweet "good mornings" and stepping on my head... you know, the usual. After a few tantrums I got them all situated with breakfast and ran to take my shower. Everyone was dressed and ready to go, except the baby, who was still sleeping. I awoke my little prince, who was smiling immediately as usual. What a great gift to start my day:-)

I glanced at the clock- Woo hoo! Looks like we'll be on time today! Not. It's funny how when you are trying to get somewhere on time, everything starts to fall apart. I walked to the wall hook to grab my keys. Nothing there. I scour the house. Look on counter tops, under furniture, in random bags. Everywhere, to no avail. I text my husband to see if he possibly knew where they could be. No response. Then I remembered. The last time I had them was last evening when I sat them on top of the car in the driveway while we were doing yard work. There was no way I left them on top of the car last night...right? 

I tore through the living room, out of the office and into the garage. Slapping the button to open the garage door I strained to see the top of the car. To my horror, there they were. My car keys. In plain sight. Thank God no one took them and my car last night! That would have been a disaster!

I started to calm down and got ready to load the kids in the car when I saw it. My two year old Gideon had ripped the alarm system power source out of the wall. Seriously?! How am I supposed to arm the house while I'm gone? Kneeling over to check the wires and housing for the unit, I see it was an easy fix, I grabbed my tools, shut the power off and begin to re-wire the unit. I turned the power back on to find I did it wrong. Shoot. Try again. All the while, the clock is ticking, and the kids are starting to get hungry as breakfast is leaving their tummies. 

I hear a reassuring beep to let me know the power unit is a go. Awesome. Now to load up the car. I grab my purse and wallet, as I was planning to go grocery shopping after I dropped my eldest off at school. I get them all in the car and start my drive to hear Nehemiah yell "MOM! You forgot to buckle my seat belt!" Oops. I pulled over to take care of that and glanced in my wallet to make sure I had everything for my grocery trip. Once again- No card and no ID. By this time I'm thinking "Come on! What's with this day!" 

Taking a breath, I turned on some music to hear Kristene DiMarco singing "It is well" and let the words of the song wash over me. I thought "Yes. It is well. No matter what things look like, this day is going to turn out just fine. "

I drop my eldest off at preschool an hour late, chase Gideon back to the car and head back home. By this time the baby was asleep and I didn't want to haul them all out of the car again. I rolled the windows down, pulled the car as far into the garage as I could, and hoisted our huge black lab into the front seat to guard my precious babies. I grabbed the keys and ran back into the house. 

The routine continued. Looking over and under everything. Why was I working so hard? That's when I stopped to pray. "Lord, please help me find these cards. Show me where they are." Immediately I knew where to look. I went to the office and knelt under my husbands desk.  Low and behold, there was the card that I needed the most. At this point, the other ID was insignificant. I got the dog back into the house and headed for the grocery store. 

Once I arrived,  I strapped Gideon in the cart and placed Ethan in the harness. My shoulders ached. I was on day 9 of a 10 day water fast and felt weak. I didn't remember him feeling so heavy. 

Any parent knows, taking little ones to the grocery store is no picnic, so I planned to make it a quick trip. I zipped though the aisles to get what I needed. Once finished, I prepared my price-matching list and found the shortest line with the most friendly looking check out attendant that I could find. 

Now, during this trip, Gideon had decided, as he usually does, that he doesn't want to wear shoes. He had already kicked them off once. I had put them on tighter than before, thinking they would stay on. We were next in line when I looked down to see that one of Gideon's shoes was missing. Here we go again. I back tracked through the store, looking under racks and down the aisles that we had been. My body was aching and all I wanted to do was go home. Finding nothing, I grabbed his other shoe and threw it in my purse. We'd just go without shoes today. 

I finally got back to the checkout lane, excited to get my deals and get out of there. The attendant, not as friendly as I had hoped, started ringing up my cart. She notified me as item after item no longer qualified for price-matching at this store, due to patrons exploiting the program. Product after product I told the clerk that I no longer desired to purchase them. I'm on a budget. I figured I could buy them for a better price at the commissary. (That was other other ID that I could not find. My military one.) At the end of the ordeal, there was a whining toddler and a stack of fresh produce that I would not be bringing home. I shrugged, thanked the woman behind me for her patience and headed to the car. Geeze. So much for a quick trip.

I loaded up the kids and groceries, silently hoping the goldfish crackers that I gave my son would be going into my mouth. Before closing the trunk of the car, I glanced down to see a few flashes of orange. I wondered what it could be. Low and behold the clerk had slipped the food that I asked her to take back into my bags, and then some. There were the minneolas that I returned, as well as an orange bell pepper and a juicy mango. I immediately thought "Maybe this was a mistake! I need to take these back." Then I considered the clerk- the way she was very cut and dry and corrected and rebutted me on the appropriate prices of the price-matching ads. It seemed that she caught everything...then why not this? No, this was intentional. 

So, I chalked it up to a blessing and got in the car. Even now when I write these words, I almost feel guilty. Maybe next time I'm in the store, I'll give a donation to charity. Either way, what I took from the experience was that even on a seemingly horrible day, it doesn't take much to turn it all around. The one person I thought could care less about the details of my plight gave me a little blessing. It reminded me that through it all, God sees me. I needed that. Pushing the cart back to its place, I spied Gideon's other shoe on the bottom rack. Hmm. Everything turned out just fine...and you know what? It is well with my soul. 

-Mel

The Loner Life

Let me let you in on a little secret. Are you ready? Ok, here it goes. I have a hard time having a consistently good attitude. Seriously, ask my husband. There are days I don't smile much, and I often find myself responding in my head to situations with cynical or sarcastic responses that I would never really say out loud. Since we're being honest, here's one more thing: I'm kind of a loner.

I was talking to my husband the other day and I was like "When did I get so serious?" He looked at me with a face that was obviously suppressing a wave of sarcastic responses. He looked me in the eyes with an impish grin and said "You've always been that way."

Really? In my mind my default demeanor is bubbly and happy go lucky. I took a moment to go back in time. Preschool: loner with three imaginary friends that only existed when I peeled back the mirrors on the medicine cabinet in my grandmother's bathroom. There were melody (myself), Responsibility and Trisha. Trisha was the fun one.

In elementary school, I was melancholy. I spent my precious moments before school talking to the soldiers who died in past wars as I read their names on the memorial plaques on the ground beneath the trees that lined the parkway. 

In high school I would wander in the woods alone in the rain purposefully trying to get lost. I would spend my time walking alongside abandoned train tracks, discover hidden lakes and stare for hours at old beautiful mansions, wondering about the generations of families that once resided within those walls. In college, things were all to the same. I intentionally didn't get involved and insisted on having a single dorm room when I was old enough.

I truly coveted my alone time, because in the public eye, I was very outgoing, but constantly critical of myself. I was in so many groups, clubs and organizations that I got burned out. I quit an amazing job in college because the stress of holding things together and juggling life were just too much for me. I guess I'd forgotten to retreat away to the lakes and forests that made me once come alive.

When I found out we were moving to Las Vegas, I truly thought I would die. There was no where to hide in the desert. I didn't know if any place to retreat in the wilderness and find myself lost in introspective contemplation for hours. Just dry, hot dirt.

It's amazing how things have changed. Now I love it here. My forests have turned to coffee shops and hidden gems within the city. I recall last week as I was walking around symphony park I found myself caught in a overwhelming fragrant breeze of leaves. I stopped and walked backward just so I could feel it again. The wind rushed over my face and the sun shone above in the trees with deep hues of yellow and orange. For a brief moment, I was in heaven. I was home amidst the swirling leaves. There was another fragrance that I just couldn't put my finger on, and I looked down to see bush after bush of succulent Rosemary. Rosemary! My favorite smell. God knew just what I needed that day to come alive again.

Maybe  being serious, an introvert or having loner tendencies are not a bad thing. The danger comes when my well runs dry, a bad attitude takes over and I think I don't need community. Even in all of my loner tendencies, I know I need people. I love people. They too, can make me come alive. Just in a different way...I'd even go as far to say people make me come alive in the best way.

Whether we are loners or thrive out of constant interaction with others, we can all benefit with rubbing shoulders with good people. I have a hard time making myself laugh. I'd rather leave that to a good friend who knows me well. I'd rather exchange a conversation over coffee than spend everyday alone.

I don't really know where I'm going with all of this. I'm just on a process of honestly discovering myself. I'm redefining who I am and being ok with it. I encourage you to do the same.

Love,
-Mel

Ps. As we speak, I'm sitting at a coffee shop alone, but my sister in law works here and she keeps making faces at me. I've married my alone time and need for community tonight...and it's so rich.

A Real Marriage Killer

I want to touch on something important today. Because of it's importance, I'm going to be very candid with you. Here it is: Unchecked emotional baggage is a marriage killer.

What I mean by this is simple. Every one of us has a story. Those stories are made up of very specific experiences. These experiences can be good or bad. If the majority of these experiences are negative, or traumatic, our worldviews tend to mirror that reality. If the majority of these experiences are positive and healthy, our worldviews, in turn reflect that reality as well. 

Far too many experience trauma in childhood, adolescence or even adulthood that leaves undeniable scars on the psyche- scars that cannot be removed without great introspection, counseling, time and healing.  Far too many think that beginning relationships with healthy individuals, a change of environment or elevated social status will alter that reality, but this is not the case. If lives are lived this way- glossing over horrible experiences with "good" things, the results can be devastating. 

Take marriages for example. We finally get to a place in our lives where the trauma has stopped, time has lapsed or we "feel" better. Every now and then we may experience triggers to the past, but we chalk it up to getting over it. It's been ten years since that rape. It shouldn't bother me now...right? No. Wrong. Horribly wrong. That single traumatic event will paint a marriage a horrific shade of gray, (Not the 50 shades that most ladies wish it would...and no I didn't read the book. Don't even get me started on that one.) because there are no rose colored glasses for that kind of trauma. It MUST be healed. It MUST be talked about. A good marriage will not heal it. Time will not erase it. 

The same thing goes for emotional or physical abuse, addiction, incest or other sexual trauma, the loss of a loved one-no matter how seemingly insignificant, those events change our hearts and minds. 

Time for the candid part. Back in college, I was an emotional wreck. Key close familial relationships were so subtly and blatantly toxic that I seriously thought I was losing my mind. I remember having a conversation on the phone in my dorm room with my dad that left me reeling.  Not only was the content of that conversation unhealthy, but it was so influenced by years of trauma, unhealthy views about myself, God, others and life that I literally could not make sense of it. I was analyzing and overanalyzing the conversation. There was no remedy. There was no thinking my way out of it. I had to do something about it. I know this is very general, but let me be specific.

Because of the sexual boundaries that had been crossed by friends, acquaintances, strangers and extended family since the age of 4, I had no idea how to privately employ physical and sexual boundaries with men..or women for that matter. If I was ever in a one on one situation with someone who had sexual intentions with me, I was done for. I didn't know how to fight. I just knew how to reluctantly comply. Can you imagine how dangerous that was for a child? For an adolescent? For a newlywed if left unchecked? It was a very tangible horror for me. I would constantly find myself submitting myself to God. Building walls in relationships to the point that I got over spiritual and cold to good men because I was simply trying to survive...to others I was an open door. Take what you want guys, I have no boundaries and I am a victim.

Because of the unhealthy baggage that I was carrying, I would often attract individuals who would trample on my boundaries. I would go from friendship to friendship, relationship to relationship just looking for someone safe who would honor my body and heart. What I needed was to be healthy enough to do that for myself. 

Fast forward to a few years in while dating my current husband. An amazing man with baggage of his own. I had walls in all the wrong places, still hadn't dealt with that past junk. I'd read some good Christian books, but they only put a bandage on a gaping wound. I was plagued with so much insecurity in a pretty secure relationship that I couldn't rest until I made sure my environments were safe, so matter how unhealthy my methods.  I remember walking downtown with my love on a wonderful date and an attractive woman walks by. Much more attractive than me in my eyes. Immediately I began to shut down and get defensive. 

Here is the toxic conversation going on in my head. 

"Is he comparing me to her right now? I can never grow my hair that long. She is so beautiful. I wish I looked like that. He probably wants to be with her instead of me." All the while, he's smiling in my eyes and holding my hand. I finally blurt out to the oblivious boyfriend "Did you just check her out?!" The dumbfounded boyfriend assures me that he didn't. He is enraptured in his love and regard for me, but all I can see is my broken worldview. Way to put a damper on date night... or a marriage. 

The hard part for me was that I believed behind closed doors, he would choose her. This was because all that was perpetuated against me was behind closed doors. It was a horrifying way to live.

In college, Jon and I were two peas in a pod. Completely in love. Anyone on the outside or inside our close circle of friends and family knew that. What they didn't know was what was going on inside my head.

Jon and I worked together at the YMCA for many years as Youth Development Staff. In any employment situation, you work with all kinds of people. To this day when I think about a situation that I experienced, I feel so sorry for the poor girl that I confronted. A beautiful young woman, super bubbly and thin-pretty much everything I wished I was at the time, worked with us as well. 

My work was administrative while Jon's was more hands on with the kids. She was paired with him in their classroom. I often found myself leaving my desk to "check up" on their classroom. Was everything ok? Did they need any more supplies? AKA Is he starting to fall in love with her?! Really? How damaging and toxic was this way of thinking? Yeah, my exclusive, I love you to death, love note writing, I'll sing Jesus loves me for you at a drop of a hat, let me show the world my queen, 3+ year boyfriend would just kick me to the curb to be with a more beautiful and thin STRANGER. It was completely irrational...but it was so real to me. I was convinced that he would. Why? Because of my unhealthy mind painted by unhealthy conversations by people that I held in a high regard and unhealthy experiences that I lived through. 

It was eating me alive until finally I cornered her in the bathroom one day.  I blurted out "Do you like Jon?" Dumbfounded (I seemed to have that reaction on people because I seemed to be very secure) She was like "What?! Nooo!" She graciously overlooked my huge outburst and we actually became close friends and are still friends today. Thank God that interaction ended well. 

It was undeniable that my brokenness was seeping out of my ears. That time in my dorm room was when I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to get help or I would lose my mind or chase away the love of my life. Mind you, this one emotional category was one of MANY. If sexual stuff and insecurities were this intense, you could imagine how I felt about food, the role of a father, God, my body, racial and socioeconomic issues and countless more. There was no part of me that was left untouched. I was a wreck. So, I leu of keeping my sanity I began to seek out help. 

I went through a string of counselors until I found two that were a perfect fit for me. One was an amazing pastor at my church who laid the foundation of emotional health and loving well. He did Jon and my pre-marital and personal counseling and it was amazing. We were completely different people when we walked down the aisle from where we had been before because of his methods, but that was only the beginning. 

The other counselor an unlikely older, very wise, unattractive, soft spoken and amazingly direct Christian man, counseled me out of his living room. I paid with cash and began to dredge through the mess of my life. By this time I was married. I WAS MARRIED!!! With all of that crap going on inside. It was by the grace of God that I stayed that way. I could have single-handedly sabotaged one of most substantial gifts God had ever given to me. One counselor taught us how to love and how to stay married. The other unearthed the foundations of years of dysfunction and taught me how to rebuild them in the strength of Jesus... Brick by brick. 

Check this out: within my familial circle, 5 out of 7 couples ended up or are currently facing divorce. That's over 74%. 74% of MY personal family. Yes, there were many different circumstances that ended these marriages. Yes, with all of the baggage present, for many it seemed healthier to walk away...but in my heart I truly believe if the issues were dealt with prior to marriage or attacked relentlessly within the marriage, that 74% may have worked out just fine. I'm thankful things have worked out or are getting better for everyone involved in these relationships, but watching my parents and other couples go through it, I would never wish divorce on anyone. 

Now, opening up old baggage is no walk in the park. It looks like hashing out issues such as sexual abuse or rape...how you may still smell the stench of your attackers in your nose and remember very clearly what happened when you try to be intimate with your spouse.  It's talking about how a father abandoned you or how a mother screamed in your face everyday telling you how worthless you were. It entails remembering how you had no pretend you weren't hungry at school because you didn't want anyone to know you were living under a bridge and had no where to lay your head at night. It is speaking about how you may have been locked in a closet, beaten until you were bloody or speaking about years of entangling porn addiction. These issues are real, and time does not make them go away. Marriage to a good person does not make them go away.

I could have been there too-facing divorce. In the bliss of loving and walking beside my husband as the children came, autopilot began to take over. There were still heart-wounds in me that were unaddressed. My husband and I lived around each other. Because of schedules, there was little time to connect, and we were not intentional. We were burned out. The only way I woke up to this reality was through a dream.

In the dream, Jon and I were attending the wedding of a mutual friend. I was supposed to sing for the ceremony and he was my guest.  The event was in a huge barn and it was a beautiful day. I went up on the stage to rehearse and looked around to find him. I loved when Jon cheered me on when I sang and I was missing my man. I finally spotted him. He was dressed in a flowing white  tunic. I watched him as he flung open the double doors of the barn to a courtyard where he spread out his arms and began to dance, spinning and twirling...by himself. He had the biggest smile on his face. He was so happy. All of a sudden, out of nowhere,  a violent tornado ripped through the courtyard and snatched him away. There was nothing left. I just stood there with my mouth and heart gaping, terrified. Then I woke up. I felt like I couldn't breathe.

 My heart was beating out of my chest and I heard a still small voice that said very clearly, "If you don't change the course of your marriage, the results will be devastating." That's all I needed to hear. I frantically scrambled groping in the darkness for my husband. Once I found him, I just lay my head on his chest weeping...just listening to his heartbeat. He was alive and he was with me. 

I can't tell you how real that dream was to me. Needless to say things have changed. Date nights and coffee have been happening. We decided there would be no more kids for us...at least not for a long time. We'd experienced our limits. We decided it was time for my husband to change his profession in the near future. Living life like this was not worth it. It was time to love and grow. Most importantly, no more auto-pilot for us. It was time to be intentional.

Intentionality begets healing my friend. It means changing the way things have always been, no matter how foreign or taboo they may seem. For the sake of everything that you deserve and for everything you are to become please don't let any issues become water under the bridge. Sooner or later those waters rise up so high you may just find yourself drowning. Maybe you are already there like I was. 

The process of healing may feel like you were run over by a train. It may feel like heaviness on your shoulders and a lot of days wondering why in the heck all of this mess is happening to you. It takes painful realizations that you must forgive so that you may be free. It takes facing the difficulty of releasing pain or memories that you may have even found yourself proud to have endured. You don't need another bed buddy. You need healing. You deserve freedom.

It took many years, but my husband and I did the work individually and as a couple to be where we are today. Yes, things can always improve. Yes, issues come up sometimes that need to be addressed- hence my previous post. Life goes on, pain happens...but so does great joy when you pursue health in a marriage. So comes great freedom. You deserve that love.

If any of this resonates with you, sit in that reality for a while. When you are ready, move to change it. The solutions may not always be found "fixing" your spouse. They may just be rooted in healing yourself.  Something to think about: When you are truly healthy, inner turmoil shouldn't be happening. Are you there yet? 

Let's work on emotional health this year. It's time. For yourself. For your future. For your marriage.

Never stop pursuing health. Never stop fighting for love.

Love you,

-Mel

Happy New Year!

The New Year came bearing gifts for me. It was like at the stroke of midnight, a wheelbarrow of heirloomed ugly sweaters, stale gingerbread houses and lacquered Matryoshka dolls were placed at my door step.

These proverbial "gifts" were actually the realization of layered baggage that I had been carrying around for years, but because of its pretty packaging and my thick skin I didn't realize how deeply wounded I truly was. It was like my angel brought all of these things to me and was like "This is supposed to be a freakin' amazing year! I'm tired of seeing you cart all of this crap around. Deal with it now!"

It began when things started happening that started shaking me up inside. A repressed memory from my childhood resurfaced that I had to address. I heard bad news about a friend that had been the cause of decades of pain for them. I was at the local grocery store and the security guard tried to give me a neck massage! Agh! Yeah, that one took the cake...and more. What a first week huh?


I began to see very quickly that this year was very different from previous ones. Because of this, I had to learn a few things and learn them quick. Here is what I have gleaned from these experiences so far:

I really have to be more careful to guard my self in casual conversation. I am generally a very warm and encouraging person. Some mistake this for weakness or open access to my heart or body. This is NOT the case. I'm just showing the love of Jesus, but not everyone will respect the call on my life or my boundaries. It is my job to make those very clear...especially to strangers.

It's time to shrink my inner circle of friends. We've all experienced it...The coffee chat with a friend that was completely one sided, poisonous and just downright draining. I want to surround myself with people who are positive and edifying. Who are ready and willing to participate in a healthy reciprocating friendship. Those who are not catty and those who can see beyond themselves. I can't share God's love with the world and execute great vision when I am self-centered or stuck. I need to be around healthy people to keep my outlook healthy. People who are where I am and also those who have been where I want to be.

I need to refocus and clearly define how I spend my time. I've spoken before about how I have had far too many pots in the fire...and for what? It is time for me to choose what my passions are and pursue them. To determine where my focus should be and stay there. For me, those are my faith, my self, my family and finally my ambitions.  That would look like this:

• Faith: To know Jesus more and to heal from any discrepancies in my spiritual identity.
• Family: To spend time cultivating a deeper and more passionate relationship with my husband by having a date night every week. To stop fighting my kids and become their greatest cheerleader. To kill clutter in my home to maintain peace and joy.
• Myself: To know who I am and become comfortable in my skin and joyful in who I have been made to be. To get counseling to completely heal from past baggage. To spend more time reading. To exercise in a way that brings me great joy and great results. 
• Ambitions: To make my art business come alive this year. To make enough passive income with my husband so that he doesn't have to work and we can focus on doing what we love. To finally pursue my music.

This is my vision for the year. To truly change my pace and stamp intentionality of every day that I live.  Habakkuk 2:2-3 Says:

"Write the Revelation and make it plain on tablets so that a herald may run with it. For the revelation awaits for the appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay."

I truly believe that this is the year that the long awaited visions that we have will come to pass if we walk out in God's direction and keep moving forward. I am excited to see what this year has to bring and to finally deal with that wheelbarrow:-) I can't wait to see what is in store for you as well. Write your vision down and pursue it! Have a wonderful day and a Happy New Year!

-Mel