I had no idea. No truly. NO idea.

I was doing a little research today, on a couple of my medicines, and I stumbled upon references to a depression questionnaire that medical professionals use to grade the severity of clinical depression. I don’t mean the down-in-the-dumps blues. I mean the bigtime stuff. The stuff that warrants, no necessitates, medical intervention in order to shake.

Yeah that kind of depression.

I say I stumbled onto a questionnaire… actually I found several different ones. Just for kicks, I decided to screen myself. Grade myself, if you will.

Mind you, this is after being on 2 different anti-depressants for about 3wks. Meds that, in all honesty, I was taking only because my doc told me to. NOT because I thought I needed them, but simply because I wanted to be a good patient and do what I was told. I looked up the usage of these two and found that when used in combination at the right dosage they were helping fibromyalgia patients with pain. That coupled with the fact that the doc had prescribed one of them to help me get to sleep… not for depression… made me feel so much better about taking them, if you know what I mean.

Anyway. I almost maxed out every single screening and questionnaire there was. No kidding. Severe depression was the result on every single one.

Do WHAT?!

Were they wrong? Did I somehow mess up and answer something wonky and skew the results? Are they flawed? What in the world?!?!

Nope.

Thing is, despite the fact that I have felt -emotionally and mentally- better in the last 2-3 wks than I have in I-don’t-know-how-long, apparently I truly AM still “severely clinically depressed”.

Talk about an eye-opener. I honestly, truly had NO idea that I was not ‘normal’. Ok, scratch that. I’ve known for years and years I’m not ‘normal’. What I mean is I had no idea that the way I feel about myself and the way I live day-to-day emotionally/mentally speaking was depression of any kind, let alone “severe depression”. That’s what I mean.

Turns out, I’ve been living with severe depression for a little over 20 years… probably 23 or 24. I’m not quite 30. You do the math.

So basically? I don’t have a clue how the majority of folks have been feeling/living. I don’t have a clue what is normal. I’m not “getting back to normal” so much as I am just plain ol’ “getting normal”.

Now, you might think “well gosh! Didn’t her mom think something was amiss when she was depressed at 7 or 8, or even by her teens? SURELY her doctor at least would’ve noticed something was up…”

Yeah, not so much. For a start, I didn’t see doctors much growing up. Major illness or something requiring a cast or stitches warranted a dr visit and well… none of those happened very often. Then there’s my mom.

See, my mom and I are a lot alike. A lot. It’s more likely than not that SHE would also come up depressed on a screening. I won’t say with 100% certainty because she might take offense to that, but knowing what I know of her… if she answered honestly… yeah it’s likely.

And here’s the kicker… Mom doesn’t “feel depressed” or see herself as depressed either. Know why? Cause she is “normal for her”. That is, she feels no different now than she ever has.

Catch that?

Yup. It’s a strange world we’ve been living in, though it does not seem the least bit strange to us. This, (that we know as “just life”), being the strange world is what is strange. Just the idea that the way I feel could actually be different, be BETTER is strange.

Matthew being depressed doesn’t come as a surprise per se, and I’m not even kicking myself in the rear too much for not catching it and doing something about it sooner. THAT is, in and of itself, a new experience for me. I’ve recognized that I really couldn’t have realized he truly needed medical treatment any sooner because I didn’t know better, and so I’m not beating myself up with guilt over not doing anything sooner. That’s simply amazing to me.

Always, ALWAYS, before even if I knew rationally that there was no way I could have been “at fault” or “guilty” about something with the kids (like not getting medicine sooner, for instance), I would still -despite totally and fully realizing it was not rational- feel tremendous guilt. I’m talking bone-crushing guilt. The kind of guilt that leaves you chewing yourself out in your mind for days, sometimes weeks, on end.

I feel like a brand new babe, learning feelings and experiencing things for the very first time. I’ve never seen life like this before. That probably sounds cliche, but think about it for a minute. Your earliest clear memory, I mean really clear memory, probably isn’t much further back than your sixth or seventh year. I remember a few snapshot-like moments from the time I was 3-5, but the memories don’t really become clear, fully defined, complete with emotions, until I was closer to 7.

Second grade. I remember fleeting moments of first grade, but not enough to hold onto and evaluate in terms of emotions and thought-processes at the time. That doesn’t come till second grade.

It was second grade that I talked about killing myself and of wishing I was dead. It was second grade when Mom took me to a counselor to make sure I didn’t really mean it. The counselor assured her I was just “throwing a fit” and offered the suggestion of encouraging the tantrums when I had them. The ol’ “reverse pyschology” ploy at work… if Mom wanted me to throw a really good fit, then I wouldn’t want to anymore and so the tantrums would stop.

They did… mostly. My behavior just morphed. I have been told that at times I appeared to be possessed because of the “pure hate” pouring out of my eyes. Mom did not know then, what I did not know with Matthew… that depression in children often manifests as anger, frustration, aggression, etc.

She also did not know (nor did I with Matthew) that depression in children can also cause the child to “be a loner”. I did not play with many other children. One or two at a time, at most, and frequently I played alone. Well, mostly I read, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, I can remember feeling and thinking in second grade pretty much the same as I do now. Or maybe I should say, have up till now. It’s like… I’m almost thirty, but I feel the same as I did at 17 or 18. I’m sure most people are that way. They don’t feel thirty, they just feel like themselves… they way they have for years and years, since high school is generally what people say. I can take that back further. To second grade.

Oh sure, as a kid I felt younger in that I was well aware I wasn’t an adult. I mean it’s not like I felt or thought in a mature manner as a 7 year old, not at all. What I mean is I have felt the same emotionally in terms of feelings overall since at least second grade. I’ve felt the same way about myself since at least second grade. I’ve felt the same way about other people since at least second grade. I don’t remember feeling any other way. I can remember how I felt and how I thought in second grade and it was no different than the way I answered those questionnaires and screening tests earlier today.

That’s what I mean.

So when I say I’m learning feelings and experiencing things for the very first time… I mean it. At least for the first time in my memorable history anyway.

The good news? The meds are definitely working. I know because if you’ll recall I said way up there that I “almost” maxed out the screenings. “Almost” being the operative word, here. Being honest I can say that a few weeks ago (or at any point in the last 20+ years) I would have maxed out the screenings. A few points lower today and I would’ve pegged out for “moderate depression”. So while I’m still falling in the “severe” range, it’s headed towards “moderate”.

It’s going to take some getting used to, for sure. I think I’m kinda scared of it, in a way. I’m hesitant to “let myself” feel different, if you will. Almost like… I’m afraid it might all be a dream. It’s like I’m being offered a butter rum lollipop…  and I’ve gotten a tiny taste, but I’m afraid to close my mouth around it lest the lollipop will be jerked back out of my reach, knocking teeth loose, leaving me battered, bleeding, and aching for that delicious buttery sweetness.

This is so weird. But then, weird is normal. Weird is what I know. It runs in the family.

I’m just sayin’.  =)

Posted: September 25th, 2008 under Miracles, just life, mildly "article-ish", the changing me.
Comments: none

The secret to having JOY is love. Here it is:

J = Love Jesus
O = Love Others
Y = Love Yourself

The bible says the greatest commandment is to love the Lord thy God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your might. You START by loving the Lord Jesus.

The bible says the second greatest commandment is like unto the first… love thy neighbor as yourself. Add to loving Jesus- loving others… but don’t forget yourself. Loving yourself above or before Jesus or others is wrong… but to not love yourself at all is wrong too. If you leave out loving any of these (including yourself), you will not have JOY. You would have Oy, or Jy, or Jo… but not JOY.

Likewise, if you love any of these out of order, you will not have Joy. If you put yourself first, you are loving yourself more than others and more than Jesus. This is breaking a commandment and would give you Yjo or Yoj. Neither of which is JOY. If you put others consistently before yourself, you’re on the right track, but if they are before Jesus, you’re still mixed up and without JOY. You’d have instead, Ojy or Oyj.

Nope. There is no other way to get JOY. You have to have love for the right people and in the right order and amount. That is…

1. Love Jesus first. More than anyone else (yourself included!). Put Jesus first in ALL you do. Period.

2. Then love others. More than yourself. Think of others before yourself. (Think: polite, courteous, etc.) Go out of your way to help others; go the extra mile.

3. Then love yourself. Do not neglect yourself. Some people go too far with loving themselves, getting all puffed up with pride and putting themselves ahead of everyone else including God, even though they may not set out to do so intentionally. Others, though, go too far the other way and think so little of themselves that they completely neglect caring for themselves. They come to despise and loathe their own selves…their own body and mind. This won’t bring you JOY either. Don’t neglect yourself; take care of your body and mind. Yes!, put Jesus and others first, but don’t leave off the caring and loving of yourself completely or you will be left with either Jo (almost right) or Oj (nowhere near right).

To recap: The secret to having JOY is in having LOVE for the right people in the right amounts and order. That is:

J = Love Jesus
O = Love Others
Y = Love Yourself

Bible references: Matthew 22:35-39, John 15:10-11

(see I Corinthians 13 for more details on what exactly love -charity- is, it will give you ideas on HOW to love)

Posted: August 23rd, 2008 under FLYing, faith, mildly "article-ish", the changing me.
Comments: 2

So last week I wrote about Matthew and a $2.00 deal in Seriously Good. Towards the end of the post I wrote that I needed to write it down because I would need something to look back on to see progress when the going is rough. Little was I to know that would be the next day.

Ay de mi! Thursday night was a problem. At least I figured out that the massive meltdowns are almost guaranteed if there is company over at bedtime. (Looking for that sometimes elusive silver lining here…)

Friday came and went with only some tremors on the meltdown scale, but Saturday? Oy vey! Saturday was the BIG one. (Well, the most recent big one, they’re pretty familiar around these parts…imagine that.)

Both kids were told to pick up the yard and clean up some things off the porch they’d left out…dishes, broken umbrellas, bikes…the usual. Both were protesting (loudly, I might add) that THEY didn’t make the mess. Riiiiiight. Both got spanked. Meagan sulked and stomped, but did go out and start picking up. Matthew…not so much. All out fit. Screaming, throwing, name-calling, outright REFUSAL to do anything he was told. Period.

Anyway. I only mention this because the real story in this post would make no sense otherwise. See, during his terronical (new word…I kinda like it…it suits) tirade, I got a phone call from a friend. At some point in the conversation it came up that in searching far and wide, high and low, hither and thither for some explanation for his continued massive maniacal meltdowns, the question had come to mind, “Well is he saved?”.

Oh boy! the hours and hours and hours that boy and I have spent deep in theological conversation. Many spent on this very subject. We’ve covered things like “I’m too bad so maybe I wasn’t saved” to “Jesus won’t help me because He doesn’t love me” to “How can you be sure the spirit telling you you are saved is the Holy Spirit and not satan?”

Oh yes. We have talked, that child and I. Some most of the questions or issues he brings up that relate to theology or spirituality or Christianity or ______, I feel like I am HIGHLY unqualified to answer. I FEEL like telling him “How should I know? I’m not a preacher! I haven’t been to seminary! Why don’t you go ask so-and-so?” Thing is, the kid wants needs answers and comfort and reassurance right then…not at some scheduled point in the future. Also? The kid is shyer than shy about coming out and talking about the real stuff, if ya know what I mean.

So, I take a deep breath, murmur a little prayer for HELP!!! and plod on. I sincerely hope I’m not totally warping the kid by confusing the snot out of him. In all honesty I’m not TOO awful worried about that, though. Why not? Well, because the Lord will watch out for him better than I can anyway. I’ve asked the Lord to help me not mess things up with the kids when it comes to this kind of stuff, and He is faithful to help. Where’s the evidence? I think it’s right here–

Sunday afternoon, after Matthew had calmed back down (it generally takes at LEAST one overnight), he and I were conversing again. His good friend at church had just been baptized, and my heart stung a little. A couple of weeks prior, this little boy and my (not-so-little) boy had been talking after church and discovered they had BOTH been thinking about being baptized that night (the thinking part…not the baptizing part).

When he told me, “Hey Mom guess what? Me and ____ were both thinking about being baptized.” my heart went pitter patter and I had about 3 instantaneous thoughts…

• YES! Thank you Jesus! (been in prayer for him to have the courage to be baptized for over a year now)
• That’d be cool for them to do it together
• What if this is just one of those “so-and-so is doing it, so I guess I will” things?

Soooo, we talked. Went back over baptism and what it is, so forth and so on. He was encouraged to think that maybe the two of them could be baptized the same night because then he would have someone in the changing room that he was comfortable around (remember the kid is superdy-super shy!). He was soooo hopeful they could go together. And then Mom has to come in and mess it up… I was concerned it would come across that he was only following and not sincerely ready to be baptized, so we left it at- in order that it would be clear to others that he was not just following the friend, he would trust Jesus to give him the courage to tell the pastor himself (instead of me doing it) before church one night. I told him I would most certainly go with him, but he had to do the talking and then we’d see what happened. If he was told ok, and given a date other than what his friend had…so be it.

I guess I messed up, because Wed night came…and went…and he said nothing. I had promised him I would not continually ask him about it, though, so I held my tongue. His little buddy didn’t get baptized the next Sunday either. Maybe it would still work out, I thought. Maybe Matthew would get the courage to step forward before it happened.

Not so. And so my heart swelled and stung as that little one was baptized. It was so wonderful to see, and yet I knew Matthew had just missed his opportunity to have a buddy with him at his baptism.

We got in the van afterwards and I told Matthew, “See what happens when you keep putting off for tomorrow what you should do today?” (Another something I’ve been attempting to get through the kids’ thick skulls…just take care of what you were told to do NOW instead of putting it off.)

The conversation continued at home. We talked again about how baptism was something we’re told to do, and how it is to show people that you’ve been saved…that a change was made in your heart. There was more that I don’t remember all of now, but it ended pretty much like this:

Me- “You know, when you act the way you do sometimes and just flat-out REFUSE to quit and start obeying again it can and does sometimes make people wonder if you really are saved. Of course, only you and God know for sure, but it does make people wonder.”

Matthew- “Mom,” in that teenagerly drawl…ya’ll know the one…the one that conveys duh, you are so dense and unknowing, how can you even ask me that? DUH “Mom,” he said, “do you think that if I knew about God and how to be saved I would be walking around not being saved?”

And then he turned and walked out of the room. I could almost feel and hear him shaking his head and sighing (he didn’t, but you know what I mean) “man she really is thick” .

We were looking for evidence that the Lord was going to keep me from messin’ the kids up totally, remember? (Yeah I was having a hard time remembering too, what with the sidetracked baptism story and all) Here we go.

We’re having a missions conference at church. Last night the preacher shared a story about a woman he’d shared the gospel with. He went through the whole plan of salvation, and then at the end he asked her if she would like to accept Jesus as her personal Savior. He said she looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said simply,

“Who wouldn’t?”

Not so very different from the sentiment Matthew shared with me just the day before. A preacher who’d been to seminary and who doubtless is MUCH better qualified and adept at explaining things and discussing things shared the plan and got that response. I, who am terrified of screwing it up, but plod on as best I can, stumbling over my words and thoughts, wondering if I’m making ANY sense or at least not causing more confusion… well by golly, look at that?! It got through not too horribly muddled after all! Not me, folks, that much is evident… my Jesus. =)

Posted: April 22nd, 2008 under Matthew, faith, just life, mildly "article-ish".
Comments: none

On Wednesday, April 18, 2007 at 3:15am I smoked a cigarette.

One little cigarette? Yup. My first? Not by any WILD stretch of your imagination! Try Quabiltrilionith. I started smoking about 6 weeks before the end of my junior year in high school. So about the same time of year, but 11 years before.

Eleven. Not a very big number. 40ish. Still not a very biggish number. 11 x 365 x 40ISH = really, really, REALLY big number that I can’t even count to…quabiltrillionith. The ish is important to note, too, because while there WERE days in which the 40ish was closer to 0ish, there were also days in which the 40ish was closer to 400ish. (Ok not quite that many, but you get the idea.)

But one? 1. Just 1. That? That’s an even bigger number. Turns out that number is all it took to squash and slaughter all those not-so-big, biggish, and super-ginormous numbers ONCE and for all.

One. The One. Jesus Christ. Lord of lords. King of kings. My bestest ever friend in the whole ginormous universe (He made it after all!). My One is bigger and more powerful than all the other numbers….to infinity AND BEYOND.

That one cigarette at 3:15am April 18, 2007 became the LAST one…because of THE One. And now? It is one year later, and so I’m remembering the victory I had and have in Jesus.

Yuppers, skippers. One year ago, Jesus quit the cigarettes for me. That’s a funny way of saying it, you say. Maybe it sounds that way at first, but it’s the truth. See it was like this…

For months I tried, REALLY tried to quit. I tried cutting back, limiting myself how many I had…or where…or when. I wanted to quit so bad. I cried. I prayed. I cried some more. I tried only taking a drag or two, and then stamping it out thinking the imagery of me stamping out my sin would help me to not want it so much.

Yeah right. That worked about as well as writing a note to the elephant that just stepped on your foot to “please won’t you be so kind as to get off my foot” and then putting said note in your mouth, chewing it and swallowing it. In this made-up scenario you are not only not addressing the issue (the elephant causing you pain!), you are just being plain stupid in even thinking for a moment that internalizing (by eating) your solution (the note) you will achieve the desired results (elephant getting OFF!).

Sin is like that, I discovered. If you internalize your own silly solution and try to quit in your own power without even addressing the real sin itself it stubbornly refuses to move.

Smoking is a sin. I seriously grew up knowing it was bad. At least as a little kid. As I got older though I seriously grew up thinking it wasn’t that bad. After all the bible doesn’t even say it is bad. Not that I knew that mind you…I had no way of knowing that cause I had never READ the bible…but I’d heard people -smokers- SAY that, and so I accepted their truth -twisted though it was- as my truth. Sadder still? I learned that from someone in direct leadership over me. Nuff said.

Anyway. I had grown to the point in my smoking journey that I had finally decided it was bad. I still didn’t necessarily think it was HORRID, but just not good. I didn’t like that my smoking kept me from having friends over. I didn’t like that my smoking kept my KIDS from having friends over. (Several friends’ parents forbade them from coming in our house because of the smoke. Smart move on their part, actually, but it still hurt.) I didn’t like that people thought I was less of a person for smoking or that people (non-smokers) would stare at me, make rude remarks to their companions, and maybe even made ugly faces or gestures…all because I smoked.

How dare them, I thought? It’s my right to smoke.

Well, sorta. I do have liberty in Christ…that is to say I do have free will. Technically speaking I am CAPABLE of doing whatever I want…so yes I CAN. But “can” does NOT blanket-across-the-board mean “should”. Nope. No way. Common sense will tell you that. Yes we CAN kill someone because they called us a dirty word. Should we, though? No-brainer, right?

So while I had the “right” to smoke (nobody could MAKE me stop), I shouldn’t have exercised that “right”. Not because I was somehow offending those rude people and their “rights”, though I likely was and that’s not good either, but because in so doing I was offending God. My very bestest ever friend. The original (and only TRUE) HE-man, Master of the Universe (and beyond!). God wants us to take care of our bodies. He wants us to stay away from even the appearance of evil, lest other people decide to NOT trust God because of our lousy testimony. Do we fail? Do I? Absolutely! We are all fallen sinners, whose righteousness is like filthy rags. Our best is NEVER good enough. But we are supposed to try.

I hadn’t been trying very hard to take care of my body. I hadn’t been trying very hard to live a clean, healthy life for myself…or for my kids…or my neighbors…or the rude non-smokers. Why should I care about them? Because God says we are supposed to. I’m supposed to strive to live a godly life not just for God (though that is reason enough!) but also as an example for others. I’m supposed to strive to be a shining light in a dark and scary world. A beacon of hope to those who are hurting because of sin. Why? Because I am their hope? Not a chance. Because their hope, their ONE and ONLY hope is Jesus. And if my light shines brightly enough, they will be drawn to it, and then I can gently whisper to them…

“It’s Jesus. Jesus did it. He’s the One. Jesus paid it all. All to Him I owe. You can have victory in Jesus, too. Here’s how…”

One is not the loneliest number…it’s the BIGGEST and FULLEST.

To anyone who is trying to quit tobacco or is thinking about it: One specific thing that really helped? Realizing and accepting that while the smoking(dipping/chewing) is bad/wrong (a sin), the WANT to isn’t.

I wasn’t doing something wrong by being tempted. I was doing something wrong in feeding the temptation. When I finally figured that out I realized that this whole quitting thing was WAY beyond my strength and capability. I was way too weak to NOT break down and smoke. I didn’t like being weak. That went against the grain. I wanted to be strong…do it on my own…I can do this, I’m tougher, I’m stronger, I just need to suck it up and have more willpower. I, I, I, I. I was the problem. I would never make it, because I was too weak.

Admitting that was the key, I think. Once I did that, I left it with Jesus. I remembered that while I am weak, He is strong. I basically just said, “Lord, if I’m going to quit smoking and become a non-smoker, You’re going to have to do it. I can’t. I’ve tried and failed. I’m not strong enough.” Then I left it. Completely and totally. I LET Him do it, as opposed to asking Him to and then trying to do it on my own again. It started with realizing I was human and subject to wanting things that aren’t always good for me…realizing that the secret to having victory wasn’t in not WANTING them anymore, but in not taking them. Have I wanted a cigarette in the last year? Absolutely! Have I had one? Absolutely NOT! Why not? Because MY willpower is that strong, because I’m that self-disciplined and good? Nope. When I want one, I just step back and let Jesus go to bat for me. HE keeps me from smoking.

Wanna know something else really totally cool? He can bring the victory even when it seems impossible. One year ago this house was home to 4 heavy smokers, me being one of them, of course. So let’s look at my victory another way…

Eleven-year heavy smoker living with 3 other heavy smokers (anywhere from 3o-50 years a piece) smokes a cigarette at 3:15am, goes to bed, and wakes up to not smoke again. No pills. No patches. No gums. No support groups. (Though absolutely use those things if they will help you!! Nothing wrong with them at all. They just weren’t available for me…turns out I didn’t need those weapons anyway.) Does it painlessly and even easily. Miracle? You decide.

“When thou goest out to battle against thine enemies, and seest horses, and chariots, and a people more than thou, be not afraid of them: for the LORD thy God is with thee, which brought thee up out of the land of Egypt.”
Deuteronomy 20:1

“And all this assembly shall know that the LORD saveth not with sword and spear: for the battle is the LORD’S…”
1 Samuel 17:47

Posted: April 18th, 2008 under faith, just life, mildly "article-ish", the changing me.
Comments: 2

Sunday School we learned about stewardship and tithing and how it is a picture of Jesus’ return (after the Resurrection, He took the firstfruits to Heaven, we are the main crop and those who will be saved in the Tribulation are the gleanings, just like the bible teaches for us to tithe the firstfruits to God, then leave the gleanings for those who are poorer than us…in other words harvest your main crop, but don’t go back and be nitpicky about picking up every last grain or penny…leave it for the poor to harvest).

I just thought I’d throw that out because I’d never looked at it that way before, and I thought it was really neat. Also I learned that if you are tithing off the $$ your husband is making, it better be with his permission, because if you’re sneaking it, you’re stealing. OOPS! Boy am I glad that Jesus forgives all sins, even the ignorant ones (ones we do not knowing we’re sinning)! I did that!!

I’d wanted to tithe for years (really, call me weird, but there ya have it…I just knew God would bless if I did, I don’t know how I knew, but I did…me thinks it must’ve been the Holy Spirit livin’ inside-a me!), but since I didn’t have a church, I didn’t know how to “give 10% to God”. I was so happy when I found a church home, I was excited to start tithing, but since Mike didn’t go, I was afraid he might get upset, so I found ways to “tithe” without him finding out. Since I was handling the budget it wasn’t too difficult.

Some weeks it was as simple as my brother giving me $$ in cash and asking me to write him a check to pay his bills. I’d take the cash, write the check to pay his bills, then I’d use the CASH to put our tithe into the offering plate on Sunday morning. Other times I’d buy stuff for the kids at church (like candy or treats for Sunday School prizes or whatever) that cost as much as the 10% would be and considered that our tithe. I remember once I rationalized that paying for Meagan to go to church camp was our tithe. All kinds of things. None were right, though I totally had no idea at the time.

Soon, the cash wasn’t coming in from my brother anymore, because he had his own checking account now and so was writing his own checks. I realized I wasn’t trusting that God would take care of things in regards to Mike getting upset or not. What I mean is, I knew the bible taught tithing, I knew God wants us to tithe, and I wanted to obey, so I wanted to tithe. I was worried that if Mike got upset and said no, I might get in trouble with God because I wasn’t obeying by tithing. So I decided that just like worrying about Mike causin’ a fuss about us going to church at all, I needed to just trust that God would take care of things so that I could tithe. I needed to quit hidin’ it from Mike. I didn’t plan to make a big deal about it and announce it, but I’d start writing checks for the tithe and if he did ever notice and ask, I’d tell him what it was.

That went on for a few months, but something still didn’t seem right. I was tithing…with a check so there was a record in the checkbook register which I left in the same place as I had for years, so it was completely available for him to see…but it still didn’t seem right somehow. I was still worried he’d get upset, for one.

A little later, a woman at church said something that somehow made me think that maybe something was ‘off’. I don’t remember exactly the conversation, but it was something like her asking if Mike was telling me not to tithe or was stopping me from doing it. She never said anything about that would be wrong or right or whether it was wrong or right to tithe or anything other than asking me that and saying that we were supposed to tithe 10% of the gross. Somehow just the fact that she asked me whether he was telling me not to made me wonder WHY she asked me that. I figured there must be a reason, but the actual conversation at the time was not tithing, so I didn’t ask. I did, however, learn tithing was supposed to come off the gross, not the net, so I re-figured our tithe based on that.

The very fact that my friend had asked if Mike was telling me not to tithe, not the question or answer, but just the fact that she’d asked, kept buggin’ me. I figured there must be some reason for her to ask. Slowly it dawned on me. It dawned on me that I needed to be sure Mike knew we were tithing. Actually point it out, that way I wasn’t hiding anything from him even by accident. So, one day, when the subject of tithing came up, I asked him his thoughts, and his comment was that he didn’t know whether we could afford to or not. I replied that we had been for a few months, and also apologized that I’d done so without asking him. I told him I should have asked him first, and also pointed out that we hadn’t gone broke from it. I also told him I’d like to tithe, and asked if we could keep doing so. He said yes! I don’t know if he would have or not had I not been tithing already, BUT that doesn’t excuse my SIN of tithing without his permission. I just didn’t see it as such, then. I just knew I felt better having it in the open and his ok. (It was around this time I relinquished the budget over to him, as well. I don’t remember which came first, but when he asked for the bills to take over I fussed a minute, then remembered I was supposed to be letting him be in charge, and so handed everything over.)

Today, I learned that not only is it OK… for the wife that is in church, but her hubby is not, and he earns the money not her… to not tithe, I also learned that it is wrong for her to do so without hubby’s permission. Two things. I learned I was wrong for tithing all those months. Actually in a sense I’d already figured that out…since I’d figured out I should’ve asked first…I just didn’t look at it as his money, and so therefore I should’ve asked, I looked at it as he’s in charge and so I should’ve asked. I also learned that it was ok to not tithe. What I mean is, there was a long while that aside from worrying about tithing because God says to and I want to obey and if I can’t I’ll be upset and maybe in trouble with God, I also was worried about the pastor and others in church thinking I was wrong and selfish and greedy and had no right to come to church if I didn’t tithe, so I worried about that, too. I learned today that GOD says I shouldn’t tithe off of my husband’s $$ without his permission (because actually I can’t…he has to, if I take it, it is just stealing) and so I would’ve been ok with Him to not tithe, AND I would’ve been ok with the pastor and the others at church, also, and have every right to go to church because I’d have been obeying. I didn’t have to tithe off Mike’s $$ to obey, because I can’t. He has to. I never really saw that until today.

And so these final thoughts:

• If you go to church, but your hubby does not…if YOU earn (or are given) money, tithe off of what YOU earn (or are given). Don’t worry about tithing off your hubby’s income. It’s not your place, responsibility, or worry. Don’t do it. It’s stealing.

• Thank God for His wonderful mercy and forgiveness. I’m not going to stew on this anymore because, although I was wrong and sinned by stealing from my husband in ignorance, Jesus has paid for those sins and has forgiven me. I thank God that Jesus was the sacrifice for ignorant sins as well as those we do intentionally.

• I’m also not going to worry about the upcoming missions conference where we will be renewing our faith promises. I’d kinda been worrying because a little while ago Mike mentioned all the $$ going to the church each week. I reminded him it was tithing and a certain amount each month for faith promise, and that that amount was equal to the amount I used to spend on cigarettes for myself. He hasn’t said anything else, but I’ve been kind of worried about him telling me to quit giving the money. I’ve been scared of what would happen in terms of church and being in trouble with God and so forth (like I explained above) if he does tell me to quit giving that. I’m not going to worry anymore, and if he does tell me to quit, I will, and I’ll know then, that I am obeying… not disobeying, as I was scared I would be. I’ll also know what to say if anyone at church does think ill of me for it, or says something about it, and I’ll know that it really doesn’t matter what they think or say, anyway. God says I’m obeying by obeying Mike, and that’s who I’m trying to obey. Not them. I’d rather please God than man.

Posted: March 30th, 2008 under faith, lettin' hubby lead, mildly "article-ish", the changing me.
Comments: none

I’m not sure where, but a few weeks ago I was reading a devotional or a magazine article or something in which the author commented on the fact that the phrase “you’re welcome” was endangered. They pointed out that most people today do not say “you’re welcome” in response to someone thanking them. Instead, phrases like “no problem” or “it was no big deal” have become the norm.

The thing is, whether the act or gift or thought or whatever was problematic for the giver was not what the receiver was asking. In fact, they weren’t asking anything. They were saying “thank you for doing something nice”. Are they not welcome? Even if it WAS a problem for you, you still did it or you wouldn’t be getting thanked for it. If you say it wasn’t a problem or a big deal and it was then you’re just a liar. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal or a problem for you to do it. It might have been a big deal to the receiver, though. If that’s the case then if you say “it was no big deal” it could almost feel like a slap in the face for the other party. And maybe it really wasn’t a problem for you, but it might have solved a problem for the receiver.

Whatever the case, the gist of the author’s point on the phrase “you’re welcome” was this: It’s polite. It’s good manners. Our great-grandparents, our grandparents, our parents, and likely ourselves as well, were all taught from the time we were in knickers to say “please, thank you, and you’re welcome”. It wasn’t “please, thank you, and no problem“.

I don’t remember anything else about the article (and I don’t think it was all about “you’re welcome” either…), but this has stuck with me.

See, I saw the point the author was making. Americans, even Christian Americans (who purport to be striving after politeness and Christ-likeness!) have been slipping and getting downright lazy with our manners.

Yes, our. Me. That’s why it stuck with me. I realized that I was B-A-D! about saying “no problem” instead of “you’re welcome”. In fact, after reading that I distinctly recalled several instances in the very recent past where I had done just that. And then I recalled overhearing a woman just the night before saying “you’re welcome” to someone. It was just a little something. Something I definitely would have said “no problem” in response to. I thought, “ya know? That ‘you’re welcome’ sounded so much nicer, friendler, and personal. It sounded heartfelt even though it was a little seemingly insignificant something. That was good.”

I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d said that. Truly. I tried. Years, easily.

It was then that I decided I wanted to say “you’re welcome”. I didn’t want to say “no problem” anymore. I wanted to be more personal and friendly than that. I wanted to break a bad habit and start a good one. I wanted to go back to the old ways.

So I determined that the next time someone thanked me I would say “you’re welcome”.

I bet you’re expecting me to say….and I did. You’d be wrong.

I did determine to. I even steeled myself up for it several times…”Ok, when I hand so-and-so this, they’ll probably say thank you…I’ll say ‘you’re welcome’ this time instead of ‘no problem’ like normal.”

Ummm, no.

Something happened each time. Either I flat wouldn’t think of it at ALL until hours later, or I’d think about it on purpose right up to the very moment and then….poof….my brain would drop that thought and out would come “no problem” instead. I was really getting aggravated. Every time I’d kick myself a little harder and a little longer when I’d realized I’d just…once again!…blown it. Arrrgh!

Exasperated with myself, I finally quit actively trying. I quit stressin’ over it and just decided that I would try to remember, but if I didn’t, there’s always next time. I knew eventually it would come because it’s a good change and Jesus has been helping me make those good changes.

Tonight I handed someone something and they thanked me. I hadn’t thought about what I was going to say. I was just handing someone something and then turning back to my work…and it happened.

I didn’t plan it. I didn’t think it. It just fell out of my mouth like I was a seasoned “welcomer”! It didn’t even register what I’d done until I’d turned back away. For the first time in I don’t even know how long, my mouth used the old words.

“Thank you,” they said.

“You’re welcome,” I said with a smile.

Posted: February 20th, 2008 under faith, mildly "article-ish", the changing me.
Comments: none

If the storm has been great, sometimes there is a big stink before the rainbow.

The biggest storm ever wiped out all the people, land vegetation, land and air animals, except for the handful (comparatively) on the ark with Noah. Think about this.

If it lived on land or in the air and wasn’t in the ark with Noah, it DIED.

They all died. Dead. In the water. Ever seen what something dead in the water looks like after a few days? Ever smelled it? It’s not pretty. Bloated and rotting. Decomposing, in the fishiest smelling way possible.

It stinks.

Now think again about how MUCH of this there was after the storm that Noah and his family rode through.

A LOT. A world’s worth of people, land animals, birds, insects, and vegetation. If it couldn’t breathe underwater it was now bloated and rotting in the water.

Imagine the stink.

But we know that things got better. After nearly a year, the waters receded (I can imagine that it would have taken that long for the stench to wear off!!) and land appeared. And then the dove came back with an olive branch. And then she didn’t come back because she’d found a new home. And then Noah and his family thanked God for seeing them through it all, and God made a promise to never again flood the whole earth. (I’m saying thanks now, too, cause I’m glad I don’t have to be a bloated body OR have to smell the stink for a year!)

God set a rainbow, the first ever, in the sky as a reminder of His promise.

And now, we can take comfort in knowing that even when the storms of life are very great, there will be a rainbow. We might have to put up with a bunch of stink first, the after effects of the storm, but there will be another rainbow.

The rainbows in life are made sweeter by comparing them to the storms. It’s the contrast. If we never saw any storms, or smelled any stink, we couldn’t appreciate the rainbows. They would be just more of the same. Nothing special. It is the storms and stinks of life that give us something to compare them to that make the rainbows sweet. The bigger the storm or stink, the sweeter the rainbow will be to us.

Now think about that greatest storm again. Just how sweet that first rainbow was to behold! No words could possibly do it justice.

If you’re in the middle of a big storm, or needing a clothespin to help you deal with the stink left behind after a storm, just smile…

and look forward to a sweet, sweet rainbow. =)

Posted: February 15th, 2008 under faith, mildly "article-ish".
Comments: none