God

Spilling Buttons.

A few nights ago while walking into my craft room, I knocked a jar full of buttons off of one of the tables accidentally. The lid wasn’t completely on and the buttons spilled everywhere. My immediate feeling was that of annoyance and a robotic-like desire to clean it up. But something stopped me, and I just looked at it. I must have looked at the buttons and the jar spread across the floor for 5 minutes. An illustration filled my mind. A picture being painted across my craft room floor that looked very similar to my soul’s current state.

Lately, my soul has just been knocked off it’s comfy hiding place and has been spilling out everywhere.

The more Daniel and I feel led to lead, and the more and more God pushes us to bigger things, great is the fear and anxiety that consumes me.

And I’m really starting to see that I cannot be a jar that tries to hold all kinds of buttons. I cannot have the holy spirit trying to fulfill its work inside of me but also have all of the past traumas, sins, memories and regrets. All of these buttons are eventually going to spill out and make a mess (as they have done).

God knocked me over a few weeks ago and it’s been some kind of awful ever since. The beauty of who I am is stifled because of what I choose to define myself by. I haven’t processed, accepted and let go of so many things. The fear and the anxiety are only symptoms of the deeper problem.

The night that God knocked me over I decided that I’ve had enough. I want to be able to watch a tv show with my husband without gasping for breath. I want to be able to let Titan in the backyard without this crazy need to lock the door. I want to be able to go up to a broken sojourner at church and make them feel welcome. I want to love my neighbor SO BAD. I don’t want to worship my family. I want to worship God and have an overflow of love for my family. I don’t want to worship safety. I want to trust in God so much that it compels me to abandon common sense sometimes.

These days have been yucky. The process of digging, exposing and pulling out of sin and buried memories is a violent affair. It looks terrible. It looks like screaming and ugly tears and cigarettes and migraines and exhaustion.

But each painful time it happens, I can breath just a little deeper. My vision becomes a little less cloudy, and the mission is more clear.

If you buy into the lie that in the moment of salvation comes complete sanctification, and are trying so hard to live like you are perfect, then please. STOP. This life that you have chosen to live, the God that you have chosen to follow, is HARD. It is messy. It is painful and often lonely. Suffering is inevitable but also a blessing, because it has an enormous purpose. The bigger the dreams you have, the more God is going to rip the nasty stuff out of you, so ACCEPT IT. It’s an incredible act of love that frees us up do to incredible things. To be big creators. To give, and to give and to keep giving. And ultimately to make room for only Him.

Be encouraged.

Abram the Baberam.

I don’t think I’ve ever posted any pictures of my little man on this blog so far, and who doesn’t love a picture of a baby?

So here are some recent pictures of him and his tiny life.

He loves a good pair of sunglasses.

I promise this is not how my husband usually smiles. I wanted this picture because his shirt looked good on him and Abram was wearing his moccasins handed down from his daddy.

The BEST of friends.

This is the cashier at Ken’s BBQ. Abram goes there every Friday night with his Mimi and Grandaddy and this lady adores him. They’ve become pals.

I mean seriously…. I can’t take how cute he is. And his hair has started to curl around his ears which makes me want to die. It reminds me of my little brother when he was this age.

Someone gave us a monkey suit. It provided a couple of hours of entertainment. Thank you, whoever you are.

Father and Son.

Right before he started walking last week he took this hamper and would push it around the house. Training for the real deal.

This might be one of my favorite pictures ever.

 

I really love my family. Sometimes too much, to the point where the fear of losing them outweighs the desire to live life to it’s greatest potential. Family is a gift and a blessing from our Creator, and should never be something that cripples us. But just like everything else that is good, family can also be an idol.

But I’ll save that talk for tomorrows post.

Food and Comfort.

Yesterday was just crazy. It started late Sunday night while we were enjoying hang out times with our friends Ray and Allison. Our toilets flooded the hallway and my craft room, leaving the two hubs to clean it up. Around 1 in the morning Abram was consistently awake every 30-45 minutes until I finally took him out of his crib at around 5:30 and realized he was really working hard for each breath (judge me if you want, but I had no idea that was going on. I couldn’t hear any gasping and I just thought he was having a restless night because he’s been teething hardcore lately). We took him to the ER and he was extremely cheerful and energetic for not be able to breath very well. The doctors gave him a few breathing treatments and steroids to open up those lungs and sent us on our way with a crap load of prescriptions. The car was giving us trouble, and Daniel spent a good portion of the evening on the roof trying to figure out where the septic tank was to solve the toilet problem. We slept like the lifeless, most inanimate objects last night. All three of us.

Needless to say, I didn’t get a chance to post yesterday. Sometimes all of these things come at once and you just go into “get crap done” mode and be responsible adults. What was so surprising to me was that Daniel or myself never really freaked out or had a meltdown over all of the stuff. Whether it was a huge sense of peace, or we were just too tired to feel anything, we handled it pretty well and as a team. It felt good.

However…. I did find a great deal of comfort in food yesterday. Which leads me into the meat of what I want to share. Now I realize this is about to get pretty spiritual or “religious.” I know blogs like the kind I am trying to have usually keep it pretty light and positive. But I want people to see every part of me, not just the cute and “crafty” parts.

This is what I wrote in my journal this morning, and this was my written prayer afterwards:

Sometimes food is everything. This is a reality that I’ve been denying for a long time, because it is shameful and humiliating. Food makes me feel so good for those few seconds or minutes that I am eating it. My problems go away. I’m addicted to that comfort. I worship that comfort through food. Why? I hate this so much, more than any other time I’ve dealt with it in my life. I hate it because it makes me weak and leaves me feeling like a failure. I hate it because it means I am a little like my dad. I hate it most because it keeps me from feeling pretty and sexy (regardless of how he sees me) for Daniel. I want to hate it because it comes between God and I, but truthfully I don’t think about that nearly as much. I’ve turned two inherently good things into evil idols of worship: food and comfort. I’m not getting my refuge and sustenance from God because I’m not seeking it out.

Father,

I want to overcome this so bad. But I just realized it’s for the wrong reasons. It’s all wrong, every bit of it. I’m trapped, enslaved, chained to this sin struggle. I need you to save me from this. It’s just another confirmation that I’ll never stop needing the gospel. As painful as I can imagine this is going to be, please break me of this sin. It’s roots are deep, possibly to the darkest caves and trenches of my sub-conscious and soul. It’s probably going to be bloody, so please douse the wounds with grace and mercy, never ceasing to show me how much You love me. I want to come out of this strong, and proclaiming your name.

Your Beloved,

Megan

 

As hard as it is to reveal the parts of myself that I painfully don’t want others to see, I believe it’s necessary. Transparency will lead to victory. Here’s my struggle right now. What’s yours? Like my pastor said on Sunday, “We are all addicted to something.”