You're a Vending Machine

     As I lay in bed tonight trying to rest for church tomorrow the words of my Pastor ring through my head over and over again, "like a vending machine out of order." So many of us wonder why we are being overlooked and missed when it comes to the daily passing out of blessings, only to fail to realize that we are simply unplugged snack machines unable to take the money. 

     Recently it was brought to my attention that my "path to greatness" had some misguided steps and that they weren't exactly ideal to be followed. This is true. I've made mistakes in my life. There's no telling how many times God was screaming in my ear for me to go the other way and I simply ducked my head down and ignored His guidance. I've never pretended to be perfect or ignored the sins I have committed. I believe that where the disconnect lies is in the fact that others seem to ignore these facts. Simply because we are Christians, it does not mean that we are free of sin or flawless. It's quite the opposite. Our sins and flaws seem to magnetize in the eyes of others. "Well you can't tell me this, because you did that when you were my age." The flesh will force others to see us as those broken vending machines and fail to see the sign that now says "charging up."

     During our journey as Christians our sins and constant mistakes become our testimonies. No, I did not know God at all when I was a girl. I remember a long time living with out even thinking about God. I lived my life with the thought that every day was for me and only me. I started drinking at a young age and would even sneak it into school. I stole my mom's cigarettes and would smoke them in public to try and get caught. I would sneak out of the house to go see my boyfriend in the middle of the night. As I got older I realized that there was a point when that little girl said a prayer. Every night I would pray for God to protect me from "the monster." Yet, much like many of us do, after I got what I needed I selectively forgot who did it for me. I became my own little rebel. 

     That little girl became a young woman (and I still failed to hear what my Father was trying to tell me). I was getting older with age and my soul felt tired and ragged. My response? Keep sinning. Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't a complete rebel. I've always been a very determined woman. Even in my lacking days I worked hard and did what I felt was "responsible." What I failed to realize is that even though I was doing what I THOUGHT was right (going to college, working three jobs, living on my own), I wasn't living what I KNEW to be right. I became disconnected from emotion and used men as a way to validate my value. In this process I lost myself and eventually became so broken and out of order that there had to be no way that God would even look to me to do anything for His kingdom.

     This is where God really shows off. 

     I didn't know Him. I had done nothing for Him. I went to church a handful of times, but the few things I knew to be right, I did wrong. Then, in a way that only He works, He set me free. So simply put, yes, I made mistakes on my journey. Not everything in my life was or is perfect. I do not shield others from the fact that I am human and once lived without knowing God. Yes, I got pregnant before I got married. Yes, I used to drink. Yes, I was a club hopper. No, I didn't care. I was most definitely with out a doubt a "vending machine out of order." There was no way that God was going to deposit His blessings into my life while I lived like that. The wonderful thing about Him is that even though He knew I was out of order, that I was unplugged from the source (Him), He waited. Until finally I saw those "little" things that God was doing in my life to save me. And when I was finally able to see Him, my vending machine got plugged in, I began to WORK. 

     

Little Girl, Don't You Cry

Many times I have shed old skin to embrace a newer, tighter and stronger exterior. Lately, I have been on a journey physically but more quietly internally. I do most of my intense and painful recollection late at night, which makes it easier for me. When I write late at night and finally have the courage to post something, I know that most people will be sleeping. The likelihood for my emotional tearing touching someone else will be limited and maybe those who will feel its slight wisp will be those who God deems worthy enough of needing it. With that said....

I have already (twice) shared my testimony with my church and at a conference. Even though I was able to put my story out in the judgmental air, I have always carried a sense of shame. "If more people know, more people will judge." "I will be labeled" "What will my family think?" Recently, feelings and voices have risen and my shame has grown. I kept questioning myself. "Why am I feeling so much shame when God has released me from it?"  Once God lifts your burdens from you, there is absolutely NO reason to take them back. Why would you? Yet, here I am, playing tug of war with God and on the rope is my burden and shame. I sat down to dabble on here with no intention of allowing myself this release. I dug my heels in the mud, sat back in my strength, and pulled on that rope with all my might. I won. I believed I had won, but when I looked down at that rope thinking I had pulled back my burden and shame I saw different. In my lap was courage. God allowed me to believe that I had won because I was stronger than Him when in reality He threw courage in my face and in the way that He and I communicate said, "Now deal with that."

So here I am. Dealing. The truth is for a very long time I was a very broken girl. There is no one way to describe how I became broken. Maybe it started like little cracks, the way they do on a vase or piece of glass. Maybe it was a large chunk taken out at once. Whatever method it took, I broke. When I met my husband I was duct taped together in this whole DIY manner that I had deemed fit, but I was in no way "fixed." Too many opened and closed fists to my back or pulled hair by my father. Too many times being blamed by my brother for beatings. Too many nights listening to my parents spit fire words at each other in an effort to figure out who was to blame. Too many self-inflicted responsibilities. Too many years playing the victim with out realizing that I was actually in the process of surviving. These all took a toll on my little soul the way stepping on one spot too much eventually wears away to reveal an empty spot. Then at 12 years old my world turned upside down. My father began to molest me.

There is no way to slide into that fact. It happened. The act is over, but the recovery is continual. As a woman, 16 years after the first time,  I've carried shame over the broken girl who was hurt by every man in her life. Sometimes I look in the mirror and see that girl. My eyes still hold the pain that I've fooled myself into believing only I can see. I give in and I let myself get consumed with the pain because I feel I deserve it. The truth is: I don't. Yes. It is true. To this day every man in my life (even my husband) has hurt me. I've been cut deep by a knife that seems to get passed around. But who hasn't? I am not unique in my pain and I am also not unique in my triumph. I am not a victim, I am a survivor. I survive every day that I continue to love my husband past his mistakes and he love me past mine. I survive when I see my father and hug him with God's love. The father daughter relationship is gone. But, I found my true Father. God has shown me His love. I will never be able to understand how a father (of flesh) can do what my father did to me, but I don't need to because I DO know how my Father in heaven can do more for me. I can say with out an ounce of doubt or lack of faith that with out God, I would have died. My spirit would have remained a withered existence and I would have fallen.

There is so much more to this story. So much more to me. But for that little girl inside of me who cries out of shame.....don't you cry no more.

Click the link below to watch my testimony.

Cardboard Testimony   

This is what reality looks like:

I found this in my drafts and realized that I hadn't posted it because of the drastic level of defeat I felt. Ironically, it was encouraging to read today. I am encouraged because when I wrote this I was just finishing my student teaching and now I am entering my second year of teaching. I MADE it. I overcame the defeat and I touched lives. Maybe not in the exact "Dangerous Minds" Michelle Pfieffer kind of way...but in my own Dianna Gray "KCKPS" kind of way. So lest you enjoy....read and wallow in my defeat....then get up and be encouraged!

I am literally sitting on my classroom floor surrounded by empty desks and lingering dreams on the walls. Today was the first day I felt defeated. Not only defeated by my students, but personally and emotionally as well. These past few weeks I have been fighting harder than a retired boxer trying to regain the belt from a younger prospect. I looked at my students’ faces and lack of interest in their success and saw their dreams wither into the morning fog. No. My one class will not break the rest of their lives, but I wanted to change their lives, as ignorant and naïve as that was for me to think. I’m not sure if they were aware that on the first day when we all made our dream boards I had a dream myself. Not as grand as Martin Luther King Jr., but grand in it’s own way.

I had a dream that I would be able to impact these kid’s lives in a way that no one else had. To show them that I cared just as much about their success and thriving lives as they did. If not more. Secretly I began my journey of making an impact daily. Small careful implementations: brownies, cookies, and treats. Not ignoring the ones that are so obviously sad or upset. I let go of my own life for three months and lived theirs without them even noticing. Than today it hit me.

They don’t even notice. How careless of me not to take that small bit of information into account?

So where do I go from here? The whole reason I wanted to become a teacher was because when I was in high school my own teacher was the only one that noticed me. She noticed me hurting when I came back to school after a weekend at the hospital recovering from a miscarriage. She was the one who caught me sleeping in my car in the school parking lot. She was the one that paid for my cap and gown as a “Congratulations. I see you did it. I see you!” To this day I continue to talk to the one teacher that saw me, not for who I was then, but who I was going to be.

So. Where do I go from here? Up? I guess that's the only way.

It will be written

Today was a very pivotal day. I woke up this morning completely unaware of the feeling I would have right this second. I feel my purpose and God's vision more clearly than ever before. It's an awesome feeling.

I am one of those people who have major thoughts and life altering moments....in the shower. For some reason I clear all distracting thoughts under that hot water and I am able to hear my tangible thoughts more clearly. I also feel like God knows this is the only time I have (dedicated) to myself, so it's where He speaks to me the most. Dude knows how to get through to me!

I've been wanting to write a book for a while now, who knows when I will get to that, however I know where to start exercising that habit. I will become a legitimate blogger. Whoa. Clam down folks. I know a blog is just small step and may seem very juvenile to most of you (plus I have this one already; so what's the big deal?). What you don't understand is that I am not one to "socialize" very well. I am horrible at making small talk (it's something I've been trying to work on as an adult) and most of the time I wish I could just write down my part of conversations and let the other person read what I'm thinking.

I want to turn this blog/site into one that I can write and "talk" about all the things I love: God, my husband, my kids, fashion, makeup, nails, hair, beauty, teaching, writing, reading, shopping, eating, LIVING!! Every day I have so many things go through my mind and no where to put them, often times, no one to listen. I mean, who really cares that I just spent an hour updating my planner?! But it's THOSE moments that I can allow myself to write it and shove it into the universe, THOSE moments will help me develop.

So....with that being said. Please share my blog link. I will be updated EVERYTHING and trying to organize it so that topics and posts are separate. If you have a request for something you'd like me to to write about, send me an e-mail. I'm NOT expecting grand followers (in the first two days), however I am "expect(ing) the great" and know that God is guiding me. (I'll be writing a lot about my spiritual journey).

Get ready world. It's. About. To. Go. Down.

When All You Can Do is Stand

Remind yourself: This is not your battle to lose. It has already been won.

This should be my motto for this entire month. The spiritual attacks have been so apparent and constant that I am physically and emotionally drained. I have never had to put up so much armor than the iron clad shield and vest I have to spiritually strap on every day for the past two weeks.

My faith has been questioned. My relationship with God has been mocked. My character has been put on display and ridiculed. My God has had to fight for me.

I started out trying to fight the good fight and was left feeling defeated. I asked God, "Did I fail you? I feel like I flunked your test." His answer was that it wasn't mine to fail.

I realize that I am not easily understood. I have that CRAZY faith. Yes, I know. People think I'm crazy. He hasn't abandoned me yet. Not even when I didn't know His name. Not even when I felt as though I was alone in my classroom with students disrespecting my love of Him.

It's one of the most difficult things to do: work in a public place where "all people are accepted" but God is not. "You can get fired for that." Wow. Fired for faith.

I already stick out like a sore thumb, now my faith causes me to be an outcast. Well..."I'm going to stand my ground and be an OUTCAST."

All attention....

I was recently reminded about my abilities to convey random thoughts into effective sentences (shout out to Shemika Kennison for the encouragement ;) ). I am a firm believer that God speaks to us all at a volume we need to hear Him and at the precise time that we need to hear it. I have felt this "shut down" inside my gut. I realize I have so much to say and no one to express it to (directly). I feel that the majority of issues I think about are too ego-centric and focused on selfish reasoning. Because of this, "relate-ability" is an issue.

I am now a full time English teacher in Kansas City, KS. It has brought many challenges. For some of these I feel I had the proper foresight to anticipate and others have slapped me so hard in the face that I have to stop my head from spinning from the impact. From these issues, many of my own personal views and opinions have been challenged. I never thought that at almost 30 years old I would be having self-esteem issues, spiritual battles, or emotional catalysts.

When I was in the second grade my mom let me start dressing myself. I still remember the outfit I picked out. A white graphic tank top with purple trim and purple striped shorts to match. I wore clear jelly sandals and a purple headband. I remember being upset because I couldn't find my earrings to match. From that moment as a second grader, I have always LOVED fashion and beauty anything that goes with it. As I've AGED (I have to deal with that fact!) it seems like my "first love of all things fashion" is abnormal to those around me.

Last year, as a student teacher, I dealt with a few side glances and questions of "Is that the teacher?" I knew it wasn't really a problem to complain about--looking young enough to be in high school. However, it wasn't just about how young I looked. It was about my attractiveness. My looks began to take the front seat and my effectiveness as a teacher began to take the back seat. This assumption has followed me into my first year of teaching. First I would just brush it off as being the newbie, but then I started to notice that frequently (almost every day) some one would make a side comment about the way I look. It might be about how I did my hair: "Why do you spend so much time on your hair?" Maybe it was about my outfit for the day, "Why do you always dress so nice?" Or maybe it was about my choice of both. I know that most of these are just innocent observations. I suppose a mom of two who likes to still dress business casual/dressy is an anomaly. Although I recognize this, the comments compounded and I started to question myself as a woman. My self-esteem dropped. Was I that stupid that no one could see past my love for fashion and see my passion for teaching? Is that the only reason they think students visit my class in their free time? The lack of support around me (when it comes to this issue) made me even more upset. I've begun to feel like everyone, friends and family, are all seeing me as a "pretty face."

I suppose that my entire life I've started out with low self-esteem and no self worth so I carried myself differently. As a grown woman I learned to hold my head high and especially after FINALLY earning a degree (the first of my immediate family), I WANTED to hold my head high. Now I wonder if I should hang my head a little to blend in more with the crowd.