All Dolled Up

I love dolls.  I love all kinds of dolls.  It would suit me just fine to have one of every doll ever put on a shelf.   They fascinate me.  My first porcelain doll was Scarlet O’Hara in the white dress with the green flowers – the one she wore to the barbecue.  I wanted all of the Scarlet O’Hara dolls, but this was the only one I ever had.  I was heartbroken when, during a move, she was shattered to pieces.  I kept the dress and the wig. 

I also had Alice in Wonderland and Gretel.  Was thinking it’d be cool to have the entire fairy tale collection, but never got them.  Alice and Gretel are still in perfect form.  I also hoped to one day have a doll from every country – sort of a “Jesus Loves the Little Children of the World” thing.  Still working on that one. J

I had always dreamed of making my own porcelain dolls one day, and though I have never created my own molds, I have had the amazing opportunity to make several dolls. I was intrigued with the entire experience.  I remember soaking and gently scrub those first pieces.  Before the porcelain is fired, it is very soft, weak, and crude in appearance. You had to handle it very gently because the tiniest bit of pressure could cause the soft, clay form to crumble in your hands. 

After it has been fired it is much stronger and looks more like porcelain and less like clay.  At this point it must be sanded with a fine sand paper.  Sometimes in this sanding, cracks, holes, an imperfections may become visible.  Sometimes the imperfections are too great and you just have to start over with that piece – from the beginning.  Other times, the imperfection does not weaken the piece in any way at all and may actually add a bit of character.  And other times, you are able to sand out the imperfection completely.

After all the sanding and buffing are done, you are able to paint.  This is where the appearance of personality is given.  And a final firing to make the painting permanent.  After this you get to choose an set the eyes and hair, assemble the doll and choose the clothing.  The finished product never disappoints! 

I’ve made a lot of moves in my lifetime, many compliments of the USAF,  During these moves, many of my dolls have become damaged in some way.  Tom Sawyer, who very much reminds me of my sons, had a cracked scull.  Hillary, the only fully porcelain doll I made, had a broken leg, an injury caused by a toddler, not a move.  I made her a new one, but before I could put it on, she lost an arm.  Another doll lost a foot, and her ankle is quite sharp!

I still have these broken and shattered dolls.  People have asked me why I don’t just throw them out.  I can’t.  I just can’t get rid of them.  These dolls were a dream come true to me.  I put my heart into crafting each one.   I chose each of them, the mold, the color of the skin, the eyes, the hair.   Each one was exactly the one I wanted to make at that time.    Each one, though broken, is still very meaningful and beautiful to me.  I keep them in hopes of one day being able to repair them to their full beauty.

Life is so much like that.  As we are put through the fire, we become stronger.  As we allow God to sand away the rough places, our beauty shines through.   Unfortunately, life doesn’t stop coming at us.  The changes, stages, phases, and moves of life can leave us broken, feeling like damaged goods that just need to be tossed out.   Heck, you may even have people in  your life who tell you that you are damaged and worthless.

God NEVER EVER sees you that way. You are His.  He fashioned you with His own hands.  He chose to create you at a very specific time for a very specific reason.  To Him, you are very valuable and very beautiful. 

I know my dolls have no feelings, but let’s pretend they do.  Suppose the feel as if I put them on the top shelf of my closet because they are not good enough to be put on display.  Suppose they feel that I am ashamed of them or even that they disgust me.  And that might appear to be true, but that is certainly NOT the truth.   They are on the top shelf to protect them from further damage, and in the case with the broken ankle, to protect others as well.  Broken pieces have an unintentional way of hurting others.

If the enemy has been screaming in your ear that you are too damaged, you are worthless, you are broken, God is ashamed of you, etc, know this – IT IS NOT TRUE!   God is not ashamed of you.  He loves you.  He has not forgotten about you.  I assure you, HE HAS NOT!  His desire is ALWAYS for you to be restored.

Maybe you are in a season of waiting.  Know this…You are always on His mind.

Waiting is hard work, especially if you feel like you are waiting in the dark.  WAIT!  And then wait a little longer.   Trust Him.  Know that He sees your true beauty.   He wants to restore you.  He wants to make you whole.

If I cannot throw out dolls that I made, HOW MUCH MORE will He not throw you out, YOU, made in HIS image!  No!! HE LOVES YOU.  YOU ARE HIS. HE WILL NOT CAST YOU OUT.

…those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint”  Isaiah 40:31

The Ugly Difference

People are amazing, and everyone comes with a story.  We often look at people and define them by their present circumstances.  Many times we define them without knowing the first thing about them.  Notice I’m using the word define and not the much uglier word “judge”.   I could’ve just as easily used that word and not really altered the meaning of what I am saying. 

We have all sorts of reasons for judging others, but the one I want to focus on is difference.   We are often afraid of anything or anyone that is different than what we are comfortable with.  We perceive ourselves as somehow being above them. We don’t want to talk to them for fear that others might think we are like them.  Or maybe we are afraid we might “catch” whatever it is we think they have, as if their circumstance is some sort of contagious disease.

In my present circumstances, I am daily faced with opportunity to communicate with people some might say were beneath me.  Honestly, many of my friends would not take the time to communicate with them.  (don’t put me on a pedestal here or think I am trying to.  I PROMISE you , I am not.)

Allow me to share with you one of the people I have met.  There is one dear, sweet lady whose face is severely contorted.  She is missing one eye.  Her face looks burned.  Most of her teeth are missing, and the ones she does have are twisted.  Her jaw is so out of line that her words are often difficult to understand, and at first I really wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to her.  But, I talk to everybody, and she initiated the conversation. 

What I discovered was a dear, sweet, vibrant, and friendly person.  I really had to concentrate when listening to her because she was difficult to understand sometimes, but she was beautiful!  As I talked with this lady I got a glimpse of how physically beautiful she once was. She was so full of joy.  I don’t know what her story was.  How did she get this way?  Was it an accident?  Was it an illegal mishap?  Had she been abused?  I don’t know.

I do know that it altered her world.  She could not get work.  People looked at her funny and would step off the sidewalk to avoid having to even say hi.  Remember, I was one of those who likely wanted to step off the sidewalk.  She started the conversation with me, not the other way around. 

I am smiling right now as I think of her and her joyous, bubbly personality.  It might not be the best wrapped package, but what a treasure inside! 

The Lord does not look at the things man looks at.  Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. 1 Samuel 16:7 NKJ

Father God, I pray you would open the eyes of my heart that I might see the world through your eyes. May I never shy away from or withhold your love from anyone because I am afraid of their differences. 

EVERY PERSON is valuable to the Father.  He knows each of our stories.  He loves each of us very deeply. We all want to be seen and valued!  As a Christian, this is what we owe people.  But for the grace of God go I. 

My friend, Donna Davis has a blog: Walking With The Father –www. walking-withthefather.blogspot.com.  In her most recent blog, Learning To See Others Through God’s Eyes, she has this paragraph:

  It is sad to see or realize that people refuse to get out of their comfort zone to get to know someone just because they are different then themselves. Who knows what life changing event would not happen just because we do not bother to try?

I encourage you to read her blog.  What a beautiful heart for God she has.  

The Prostitute

I saw my first prostitute today – well, that I am aware of.  She didn’t look at all like what I would’ve expected, and I actually had to be told that’s what she was.  I suppose I thought a person of this profession would look more like what you see on TV and in the movies.  You know, the glamorous looking girl in Vegas dressed in designer fashions that  none of us could afford, confidently working the casino like she owns the place.  Or the Julia Roberts/Jamie Lee Curtis character.  Or the dirty, cocky chick from Cops all done up in some cheap pleather skirt and bad attitude.

This girl was none of that. There was nothing stand-out attractive about her, nothing that stood out as desirable or confident.  She was wearing a pair of shorts, I guess, mid-thigh, an over-sized, dirty t-shirt, and a pair of worn out black sandals.  She looked sad, downcast, and insecure.   She was with a gentleman who looked pretty normal himself.  He was trying to secure a room for her, and I guess in retrospect, they didn’t really look like they would be together.

She stood back with her head down while he conducted the business of securing the room, but because it was for her, they needed her ID to run a background check.  The check pulled up a long list of priors for prostitution.  And yes, I was completely shocked and caught off guard.  Never would my mind have conceived this was the case.

The manager had to step over and explain to her that they could not rent her a room because of her background.  For reasons I could not explain at the time, I turned my back and looked in the other direction.  Everyone was laughing, more in shock than anything, and they were also laughing at how naïve I was about this situation.  And yes, I am completely ashamed to say we were sneering at the situation. I truly had NO IDEA!!  One of the employees asked why I turned my back.  I said, “I was embarrassed.”  Her response was, “Why? You aren’t the prostitute.”

Looking back, I realize I was embarrassed for her.  I suppose in some weird way, I was trying to offer her some amount of dignity.

I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind!  My heart just breaks for her.  I’m sure there are plenty who feel my response is somewhat ridiculous. She chose her life. She does what she does because she likes it.  She’s dirty. She’s trash.

I don’t believe that.  What I saw and what penetrates my heart tells me something different.  I think perhaps she feels trapped by her circumstances.  She has found a way to get by.  A way to make ends meet.  Sure, there are those who are able to use adverse situations to motivate them to rise above the odds and succeed, but that is not always the case. More often than not, people feel trapped and controlled by the circumstances life has handed them and they just get stuck.

I think somewhere along the way, this woman lost sight of her value. Maybe she has never known what her value is.  Maybe she’s  never had a man tell her she was valuable, beautiful, cherished, loved.   Maybe she has been used her whole life and this is all she knows.  And in some backwards, warped way, she has found security and value in the very thing that has robbed her of both.

I can tell you this, there was no life in her eyes.  No joy.

I’m not saying I could’ve made a difference, but how I wish I would’ve reached out to her in some way and let her know someone actually sees HER!  How I wish I could’ve offered her some tiny amount of dignity.

I know I’ve addressed the woman at the well before, but I couldn’t help thinking of this biblical account at this time.  This woman knew what the other women were saying of her.  She was too embarrassed to draw her water in the cool of the day when the other women would be there – perhaps not wanting to face their stares and snickers.  And she knew, all too well, how men looked at her.

And then there was Jesus.  He let her know that he saw HER!  He knew all of her mistakes and shortcomings and he still saw her with eyes of dignity and grace.  He expressed to her an unending and everlasting love of truth and value in spite of all she had done and all that she allowed to define her worth.

It is not likely that I will ever see this woman again, but I will pray for her.  I will pray for God to send women of grace to minister to her and help her discover the dignity, beauty, and value she has in her FATHER’s eyes.   And I will be more sensitive should I ever find myself in this situation again. I might not make an instant change in anyone’s life, but God can certainly use me to plant a seed.

The Beautiful Gate

Gates intrigue me.  They always have.  I remember when I was a little girl I would get so excited as we would approach the gate to my granddaddy’s farm.  I jumped out of the truck and ran with eager anticipation to help him open the gate.  I was so excited about the adventure I knew was waiting on the other side of that gate.  Oh, and the day when I was finally able to hop out of the truck and open the gate by myself…aaahhh, a blissfully proud day indeed!

Approaching the gates of Disney World brings a whole different type of elated feelings.  As soon as we turn onto the road leading to the parking lot the excitement starts building.  It’s like a thousand tiny butterflies flittering around inside of me.   Once you step through the gates it is truly magical.

My kids were always itching with excitement and uncontainable energy as we approach the pool gate.   Loaded with every pool toy their arms could carry, they would laugh and giggle as they anticipated that refreshing splash of fun on the other side.

Some gates are simple, basic, and merely functional.  Others are so grand you can’t help but wonder what might be on the other side.

The temple in Jerusalem had 4 main gates.  One of these was the gate called Beautiful.  The name of the gate was Beautiful, and I am certain it lived up to its name.  This gate intrigues me for many reasons, and if you are thinking it might have something to do with going from broken to beautiful, you are exactly right.  OH, but it is so much more!!

In Acts 3, a man who was crippled from birth was taken and placed by the gate to bed.  Every day someone took him to this spot which was prime begging location so that he could beg.  His whole life was consumed with his brokenness.  It probably felt like in some weird way, it was the only thing he had going for him.  Every single day of his life he sat there broken and begging.

We do that, don’t we? We become consumed by the negative circumstances in our lives. For whatever reason, they become our minds focus.  Even when we don’t realize it, we are thinking about them.  Perhaps it’s financial hardship or an inability to conceive.  Maybe you are consumed with the pain of rejection, failures, or broken dreams.  There are so many hurts in this world, and no doubt, most of us have experienced our share of them.

So back to the Beautiful Gate.    Why was it so special?  First of all, this was the gate where Shekhinah or Divine presence of God was believed to be.  Is that why the crippled beggar’s friends placed him by the gate or was that just a coincidence? Was this gate specifically chosen?  We don’t know, but what we do know is that the first miracle recorded after the Holy Spirit’s appearance on the Day of Pentecost was to make beautiful that which had been broken for so long, and it happened at the gate called Beautiful.

If you think God is not concerned about whatever it is that hurts you, causes you to feel unworthy, unwanted, not enough, etc., take note of this:  the first prayer prayed in the name of Jesus was to heal a man broken from birth at the gate called Beautiful.    That is by no means a coincidence.  God cares about you and WHATEVER it is that hurts you.  Neither is it a coincidence that we are told the name of this gate two times in Acts 3.

Not only was this believed to be the gate where the presence of God was, but it is also the gate through which they believed the Messiah would enter. (Ezekial 44:1-3)

Another interesting fact is that the Jews used to pray for mercy at this gate, so it is also known as the Gate of Mercy.   Indeed, the crippled beggar was shown mercy at the gate. Here we have a man who was so absorbed with his brokenness he could not see anything else.  He could not wrap his mind around being anything but crippled.

Many of us have been there.  Many of us ARE there, crippled by the hurts and circumstances life has thrown at us.  Maybe we aren’t begging, but we are seeking temporary fixes to ease the pain we may not even be able to admit we feel: a day of shopping, a night on the town, a new dress, a new car, more food, another drink, a new relationship, a vacation,  a drug, or even church and “ministry”.   Oh sure, any of these may make you feel better FOR A LITTLE WHILE, for a season, but YOU ARE STILL BROKEN!

God doesn’t want to offer you a temporary fix.  His mercy is far greater than that.  He wants to HEAL your hurts.   No matter what they are, no matter how they came, He wants to heal you.

“Silver and gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you.  In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.  Acts 3:6 

We see no evidence of this man making any excuses as to why he could walk.  He never says, “ But you don’t know how bad I’ve been hurt. . . You don’t know how long it’s been this way. . .You don’t know. . . My legs won’t. . . My parents didn’t. . . My friends don’t. . .”  No excuses!

You too can make the decision instantly! You may have some things you need to work through but you can decide to instantly let go of the pain you have held on to for so long.  Give it to God and praise Him immediately – and keep on praising Him.

Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up and instantly his feet and ankles were strengthened and he jumped to his feet and walked.  He went with them into the temple court jumping and leaping and praising God…and the people recognized him as the crippled man who sat by the gate called Beautiful and were amazed.

Do you have a friend who wants to take you by the hand and lift you to the feet of healing?   If not, I will be that friend to you.   You do not have to sit in your brokenness longing for better days.   God is here.  His presence is in this place.  This is your Beautiful Gate, your Gate of Mercy.  Arise to your healing and praise Him.

One last interesting thing about the gate called Beautiful:  In Arabic it is known as the Gate of Eternal Life.

The account of the crippled beggar does not end with his healing. If you continue reading this account,  you will hear Peter preach a power-packed message to the crowd that had gather in amazement because of the man’s healing, and in Acts 4:1 “But many who heard the message believed and the number of the men grew to about five thousand.”

Your healing will have life-changing affects on many – some you may not even know.

Back up to Acts 3:16. Peter makes it very clear It is Jesus’ name and faith that comes through Him that gives complete healing. And All to the glory of God!

You are at your Gate Beautiful and GOD SEES YOU!  This is your time to receive mercy and healing!

The Broken Carousel

The carousel sat in an empty, rundown, overgrown park. The grass had grown up well above her base.  It was dry and itchy and rubbed against her in the most annoying and uncomfortable way.  The branches of the trees had overgrown so that many of them protruded into her spaces.  Even if someone did want to ride her – if she worked – she’d not be able to move because of the tree branches.  Some of the tree branches were covered with moss that hung down on the carousel like the gnarly, unkempt hair of witches in fairy tales.  Indeed, she did look more haunted than festive.  Her parts were rusted.  Her paint was dull and faded.  Many of her horses were missing ears and nostrils.  All of them had chunks gouged out of their saddles or manes.  One of her benches was completely missing, and another was missing its seat. None of her lights worked; several of her bulbs were busted; and she was certain she would never make music again.

It wasn’t always like this for the little carousel.  She used to be so beautiful, so festive, and so full of joy.  She longingly remembered brighter days when she would light up everything around her.  How she loved to spin with the music!  Oh what pleasure she found in the children’s laughter as they mounted the horses to spin with her!  She missed the proud, excited faces of the parents as they watched their children, waiving and calling their names as they passed.   Sometimes the parents would even ride with their children.  This was a real honor for the carousel. She loved bringing parents and children together.

The little carousel remembered the days when her colors were vivid, her lights luminous, her horses majestic, and her music cheerful and full of life.  Nostalgic for the days long past, did she dare continue down this road of memories. What if it was too painful? Did she allow herself to remember more?  Did she travel Remembrance Road, for surely it would only lead to the path of Broken Dreams.   She was so afraid, but she could not help herself.   She found herself drawn, as if by some unseen force, so she continued on.  She couldn’t stop the memories from intruding. She was drawn to remember!

In her mind’s eye, the little carousel could see the dream as if it were right in front of her:

The park was huge and covered with a carpet of lush, green grass.  It overlooked a very large and splendid dam.  The river below was so peaceful.  Scattered throughout the park were merry-go-rounds, slides, swings, and picnic areas.  A walking path meandered through the park.  Off to the right was a wishing fountain.   On her left were swan-shaped paddle boats gliding across a crystal blue lake.   Off in the distance were, basketball, volleyball, racquet ball, and tennis courts.  The landscape served as a butterfly garden, as it hosted an array of pink, red, and yellow flowers.  People of all ages were riding bikes, tossing Frisbees, throwing footballs, flying kites, reading books, or simply resting.  And of course, there were carousels, dozens of them! Some big.  Some small.  Some had only horses, while others had an assortment of animals.  One even had hot air balloons!

Though she knew it was impossible, in the secret places of her heart, the little carousel dreamed of becoming a two-story carousel with a variety of animals: daring dragons, majestic steeds, tiny ponies, rabbits, lions, dolphins, deer, etc.  She wanted animals large and small, fierce and dainty, for children of all ages to enjoy.  Her music was inviting, uplifting, and energetic.  When people rode her, they felt as though they could conquer anything.  They knew they were loved. They knew there was always hope.  Always hope…

Is that where her dream died?  Had the little carousel lost hope?  Oh to hope again! To believe! To dream!  If only she wasn’t so afraid…

Sometime later the little carousel caught a glimpse of a man passing through the park.  He seemed strangely familiar.   His presence seemed to be more and more frequent.  From time to time she would see him working in various areas of the park, trimming bushes, planting flower, cutting branches.  Every now and then he would look over at her with such a loving, tender expression and smile.  The little carousel couldn’t help but think that this man understood her loneliness, as if he too had experienced loss and rejection. .  Each look seemed to say, “I see you.  I understand.”  She couldn’t help herself. She began to cry.  She was embarrassed, but she cried anyway.  She could not stop the tears.  How she wished he would come over.  She didn’t know him, but oh how she wanted to.

As the carousel was crying, the man walked over.  He even climbed up and when he did, she cried harder.  Then she felt a soft, tender touch.  The touch was strong and sure and safe.  It was so very familiar. Oh she knew this touch. She knew it well.  This was the touch of the designer!  The master designer who had designed her so many years ago.  He knew every intricate detail of her workings; every gear, every bolt, every spring, every melody.   He had hand –carved and painted every horse. He knew her oh so very well!!   How had she not recognized him?

The designer walked around her, fondly caressing each horse as he walked by.  She couldn’t help herself. She was laughing and crying at the same time. Her tears spilled down onto the horses, and as they did, the designer took a soft cloth and gently and tenderly began to wipe each horse clean.  He patched, repaired, mended, and painted every horse.  Their colors were so vibrant, so vivid, so lovely.  The horses were restored and were more majestic and regal than she’d ever remembered.

But the designer didn’t stop there.  He restored her benches, making them stronger and more durable than before.  He replaces every burned out and broken bulb.  He tightened her bolts and screws and oiled all of her gears.  Nothing was overlooked. He worked meticulously until he had tended every detail.  The last thing the master designer did was to place a new music box into her control center.  Oh what rich melodies she played!  She had never produced such beautiful music.  She was so overcome with gratitude and love and joy just oozed  – no, it burst out of her with splendor and excitement much like fireworks!

The little carousel looked around. The park was full of people tossing Frisbees, flying kites, throwing balls, and reading books.  Merry-go-rounds and swings and slides were busy with gleeful participants.  Oh what’s this?  People were mounting her horses!! People of all ages!   The master designer whispered to her, “Dream, Little Carousel. Dream BIG! I’m not finished with you yet” He pushed a button and she began to spin with a greater joy than she had ever known. As she was spinning she was the smiling face of her designer, and she smiled back at him.  He threw his head back and laughed with great joy and said, “Spin, Little Carousel. Spin!”

Road Junk

BROKEN AND UNIQUE

When I was a little girl living in northern Florida, or as some would say, lower Alabama, depending on how you looked at it, my grandmother would walk along the side of the road and collect these glass objects which I believe were used as receptacles on telephone poles.  I’m not sure why they would be on the ground by the road, but they were.

She would bring them inside, wash them, and set them out to dry.  After they had dried, she would line them up on a cookie sheet and place them in the oven.  The temperature couldn’t be too hot or they would crack through and be ruined, but it had to be hot enough to cause an impact.  After the appointed time, Granny would take them out and immediately submerge them into a sink full of cold water.  At first you could hear this sizzle of relief as the heat escaped, but then they would start to crackle and pop and make all kinds of snapping noises.  When they were done, she would gently take them out of the water and place them on a towel to dry.  Once dried, they would be used to make paperweights, doorstops, candle holders, bookends, and any other decorative use she could find.

When they were popping and cracking in the water I would ask her why she was letting them break. Her response was, “We aren’t breaking them.  We’re giving them character.  Just wait.  They’ll be beautiful.”  I remember my bratty tone as I retorted, “it’s only road junk, and if it’s broken, it can’t be beautiful.”  Granny didn’t seem to hear my comment, or if she did, she chose to ignore it.

As I sat there looking at the finished products, I thought, “they really are pretty,” and I told Granny she was right. They were beautiful.  Each one was different. Each had crackled in a different and unique way.  Some had lots of fine lines that spider-webbed all over.  Others had bold lines with fine lines in between.  And some just had bold lines.  No two crackle patterns were the same.  Surprisingly, none of them cracked through or seemed to be weakened in any way at all.  They each had a different character and a very unique beauty.

My life sometimes seems to parallel the path of these telephone receptacles.  It seems more often than I’d care to admit, I’ve felt the heat of life’s oven. Sometimes it was more than I thought I could bear and I was certain I would just break.  I was a child of divorce growing up in a broken home.  I was a teenaged mom, pregnant my senior year and forced to give up all of my dreams of college and career as I was dragged around the country on a journey I didn’t chose to be on.  I was hurt, and angry.  I was victimized and I began to settle.  I gave up.  If I couldn’t get it right, I may as well just be wrong.

Every circumstance I went through applied a different type of “heat” and every time I allowed Him to be, God was there to provide that cooling relief I needed.  Each time He did this, a new crackle was formed in the fiber of my being.  I gained new insight, new compassion, new understanding, and new knowledge.  Each crackle, though it hurt, made me a better, more beautiful person, useful in so many different ways and completely unique.  Though many had similar experiences, I was the only one who had my experiences.

I’m sure I’m not done crackling.  I’m certain there are many other areas where God is allowing heat to be applied to make a more beautiful and unique me.  I am in one of those phases now.  It is not comfortable, but I trust the One who I know will soon apply His cooling relief and look and me and say, “You really are beautiful”

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

New International Version (NIV)
9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. ” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

Closure

I read an interesting book last summer.   It was light and casual reading.  I didn’t want anything academic.  Wasn’t looking for any deep philosophical thoughts.  Just wanted something fun!  I ran across a book that seemed to be exactly what I was looking for and it was only $1!!!!!  Saving Cicadas by Nicole Seitz.  I loved the title.  It reminded me of home, and the description on the back touched my heart. This book was already making me happy, and if it wasn’t what I was looking for, it costs less than the diet coke I’d be drinking while I was reading it so what did I have to lose?

I am somewhat of a kinetic type person and I can’t read anything without writing in the margins and underlining!   This is why I could never enjoy reading from an iPad.  I need paper I can touch and feel and write on!  Much to my surprise, I underlined quite a bit in this little penned adventure.

One of the things I underlined and keep going back to had to do with closure.  Closure, as defined by the dictionary, is a conclusion; the bringing to an end.  Of course, there are other definitions as well, but this is the one most fitted for this topic.  Closure is a good thing.

In her book, Nicole gives a very precise explanation of closure coming from a cantankerous old woman you can’t help but grow to love: Closure is when you’ve closed that chapter of your life.  When you can move on with your life instead of hanging on to the past and what was done there [whether by you or to you] It is a healthy thing to have closure. Some people never get it.

The book was a bit of a surprise to me – not at all what I expected, but, as I said, I found a great deal worth underlining and was quite intrigued by the timing of it.   But this is not a blog about the book, rather, the topic of the book, and what it has to do with being broken AND beautiful!  And the topic is quite controversial.  Abortion.

There are so many reasons people can’t seem to find closure in their lives.  For a lot of people closure just never comes, and they end up carrying these hurts from the past and the effects of these hurts to their graves.   And quite often end up hurting those they love along the way.

Closure for the post abortive mother is often never fully realized.  The emotional wounds of abortion take a very long time to heal.  In another quote from Saving Cicadas, this same cantankerous old woman says, “When you’ve done something you regret and it involves a child, you spend the rest of your life trying to make it up to whatever child comes your way.” 

Let me stop right here and say, THIS IS NOT a blog for bashing or condemning anyone who has had an abortion. This is not a blog for being judgmental in any way.  Abortion is a horrible act indeed. PLEASE, if you cannot read this without succumbing to hate and anger and judgment, at least refrain from commenting. This is meant to promote healing!

It is easy for those who have never been there to pass judgment and HARSH judgment on those who have.   If you have never walked in their shoes, you truly have no right.  It is NEVER our place to decide what a person deserves in life.   Were they raped?  Maybe they were extremely young and made a very grown up mistake resulting in a pregnancy they are in no means emotionally, financially, or even socially equipped to handle.   Perhaps they come from abusive parents who would’ve reacted in a very negative and abusive way.   Maybe they had parents who were quite the perfectionists and would’ve disowned them leaving them completely abandoned or they could’ve had very loving parents whom they could not bear to disappoint.  Whatever the situation, fear is usually at the root of abortion, coupled with the pressure to make an immediate decision.

Please do not misunderstand me.  I AM IN NO WAY excusing or condoning abortion.  All I am saying is that we have no right to judge, and we need to understand that not all women who choose abortion are selfish, inconsiderate, irresponsible people.  In fact, most are not.  They are just scared.  It is God’s kindness that leads us to repentance.  It is His love that draws us into His healing arms.  Most people don’t need to be told what they did was wrong. They need to be reassured that they are still lovable and valuable in spite of what they have done.

Many post abortive mom’s carry an emptiness they can never fill. They are burdened with guilt and condemnation, and quite often these are hurts they carry alone because of the shame associated with the act.  Abortion is a horrible act of murder, legalized murder that rides in on wings of deception.  This is a haunting and tormenting fact for the post abortive mom.    As long as this is where a person is, she cannot heal because she can’t talk about it.  And if she cannot heal, she is prone to accept the idea that she is not a good person and she ends up moving down a path that tends to confine her to further self-defeating acts.

In the movie Forrest Gump, Forrest says, “Sometimes you have to get a lot of stuff out of you before you can move on.”  There is a lot of biblical truth to that.   James 5:16 we are told to confess our sins to one another and pray for each other so we may be healed.  We confess to God for forgiveness, but according to this scripture, we confess to each other for healing.

The enemy would love to keep us from ever realizing this important truth, and just as he did when he was tempting Jesus, he uses seemingly biblical truth to trip us up and keep us right where he wants us to be.  He will say things like, “You are forgiven.  No need in living in the past.”  This is indeed a true statement, with just enough twist on it to keep you in bondage to your past because he knows all the while, there is something there that has not been dealt with.  It is there.  Maybe it’s deep inside.  Maybe you have pushed it so far down that you are numb to its pain.  But it is there,  subtly eating away at you, fully intent on destroying anything good that might try to bring healing and peace.

Oh, you may “try” church.  You may “try” religion.  You may “try” God.   But there is something in you that either makes you feel like you are not enough.  You try to “earn” your freedom by “buying God with service and obedience.  But it is still there.  You may not be talking about it, but trust me, you are stuck, living in your past and it is in control of your present and your future.

Talking about it brings healing!  It is the only way.  It is the biblical way.  Don’t dwell on it.  Don’t wallow in condemnation.  But find that one loving, meaningful person with whom you can be honest and vulnerable.   There is a beauty in this kind of openness that strips Satan of his power to use this against you.  It is in sharing this way that we are able to realize that we are truly loved, accepted, and forgiven, and are eventually able to forgive ourselves.   And so many times, our healing becomes a seed that leads to the healing of others.  Our honesty helps bring others to that place of freedom in their lives.  They are won by the word of our testimony.

Do not let the enemy steal your testimony.  Do not allow him to keep you in bondage to fear and the past.  Openly admit your guilt.  Without making excuses, share your story, not in a way that glorifies what the enemy has accomplished in and through you.  Come humbly and broken.  Share your brokenness.  But don’t stop there.  Certainly don’t camp there.  Move on to the place where God is glorified.  Allow what the enemy intended to destroy you to become a catalysts for healing.

Many have found comfort and closure in giving their aborted son or daughter the dignity of a name.  Some have found comfort in writing him or her a letter of confession asking for forgiveness and declaring love for the child.

God wants you healed.  He LOVES YOU!!

There is NO condemnation for those who are in Christ because through Him, the law of the Spirit of Life has set you free from the law of sin and death.  Romans 8:1-2

You are loved.  You are free!  Receive His love and forgiveness.  IT IS TIME!