Locked out but loved

Image via Wikipedia

 The message on the screen cut straight through me.  My blog had been removed.  It was as if it did not exist at all.  It was as if I did not exist at all.  Tears quickly began to fall.  I felt totally lost...

I'm sharing today at The Everyday Testimony Project.  Cick HERE to read the rest of my story.

Still slower than slow...

Here is a post I wrote in January of 2010.  I feel the need to repost it as my internet speed has not improved and I still feel quite badly about not being able to connect with you all in the ways I would desire.  I do subscribe to your blogs and read them in my Google Reader - but more often than not I am unable to comment because your pages just. don't.  load.  Please read my words below and accept them as my apology...

I love the life the Lord gave to me here in the middle of nowhere. I love our land. I love my home. I even love the fact that it can be winter for more than eight months of the year.

I do not miss the rush of urban life, the crowds, the noise, the dirt. I lived in that for 43 years and gratefully left it behind. Now my life moves in time with the seasons of sowing and reaping, seed time and harvest, a rhythm that is real and natural. Connections have been planted here.

In. Real. Life.

But there is another place that I live as well. A place with no walls, no borders, no limits. Using technology we can reach out to the world and forge connections that would otherwise be impossible.

So begins my rant. There is a very annoying aspect to this country beauty that surrounds me. Slow, SLOW, painfully SLOW dial-up internet. Our connection gets no faster than 28k, yes that's "k" friends. Some people wonder how I manage to blog at all. It must be the spirit of perseverence that God gifted me with, like the persistant widow.

Jesus told them a story showing that it was necessary for them to pray consistently and never quit. He said, "There was once a judge in some city who never gave God a thought and cared nothing for people. A widow in that city kept after him: 'My rights are being violated. Protect me!' "He never gave her the time of day. But after this went on and on he said to himself, 'I care nothing what God thinks, even less what people think. But because this widow won't quit badgering me, I'd better do something and see that she gets justice—otherwise I'm going to end up beaten black-and-blue by her pounding.'" Luke 18:1-5 The Message

I seem to waste ridiculous amounts of time waiting for my computer to respond to simple requests. I get frustrated. I get impatient. I get angry at our lack of options. It's not that we refuse to pay for high-speed, or wireless, or satellite or cable, there is none available.

"I love my life here in the country" I tell myself again and again. And I do.

But....

When I try to reach out and connect with many of you I find that your pages won't load. I can't view your videos, never mind enter into the new realm of vlogging. The connection is just too slow.

Most painful of all is my inability to leave as many comments as I'd like. As a blogger, I know how those words of encouragement and understanding, those "amens" spur us on. I don't enjoy being a lurker when I truly do have things to share with you.

So I ask for your forgiveness. I'm with you. I'm reading and loving your words and hearts. I'm sending you my prayers. I'm leaving my responses where and when I can.

Will you join me in prayers that internet options here will soon change? And please be patient with me until that time comes.

Tuesdays Unwrapped - Birthday Word from my Father

A gateway to a new year.

When Rick brought me my morning coffee I told him I was going to give myself a treat and stay in bed instead of following my usual discipline of moving to my special chair in the living room, opening my journal and spending time with my Lord. After all, it's my birthday and I thought I deserved to be lazy and sleep a bit more.

I'm glad that I listened to the prompting of the Holy Spirit instead of my flesh, and rising I took my place by the window with pen in hand.

Happy birthday, little one, for this is the anniversary of the day your earthly life began - a day and a life I had planned at a time before time - and you were brought forth for such a time as this.

Today is a day to know you are cherished - and though you will never again feel the arms of your father of flesh - you can always and ever run into My arms - and they are arms of love.

Take heart and be encouraged, child, for many things will take place that will surprise and amaze you - even so, why should My power surprise you? Do you not yet believe I Am the God of all possibilities?

What is your desire for the year ahead, little one? What would you wish to see in the days before you?

I want to learn more fully Lord, how to surrender who I believe myself to be, so that I might be a better reflection of Who You Are. I want a shower of cleansing to wash away the dirt of this world, the mud that the enemy flings at me; to step into a new level of holiness; to accept whatever call You choose for me, without complaint; to see with new spiritual eyes and hear your heart. I want to want more and more and more of You.

Child, you are choosing what is both the simplest and the most difficult way, indeed the way of the cross - where flesh dies and the spirit thrives.

Remember what you have asked for this day - for the One you have asked Is faithful.

Come on over to Emily's Chatting at the Sky where we unwrap moments that bless our hearts.

Real Stuff - Real People

As a member of the High Calling Blogs Network I am participating in the "You Are Real" community writing project. Here's how it was described:

Over the next week, you’re invited to write guest posts on a network-friend’s site to describe how online life has been (or not been) an experience with becoming real to one another. Your story may involve the delight of meeting someone in person, or it may illustrate that even though you haven’t met, you can nevertheless become real to one another. We encourage swapping posts as a fun way to demonstrate friendship and community, though you’re welcome to post something on this topic only on your own site.

I am guest posting over at Sandra Heska King's blog and hosting Sandy here today. I believe it was likely God, by His Spirit Who lead me to click over to Sandy's blog the first time and I've been a fan ever since. I'm trusting that we will continue to learn more about each other in the days ahead, and grow in relationship in a very real way.

Sandra (AKA Sandy or even Snady, the result of a typo that stuck) lives in Michigan in the same 150-year-old farmhouse her husband grew up in. She is mom to two grown adopted children and grandma to Gracee and Lillee. Snady is a passionate chocolate lover, Detroit Tigers fan, Bible teacher and inspirational writer who still keeps her nursing license intact. She maintains two blogs, The Write Pursuit (http://thewritepursuit.blogspot.com/) and Beholding God (http://sandraking-beholding-god.blogspot.com/). You can also find her on Twitter and Facebook

And now ---- Here's Sandy:

Real Stuff--Real People.

“One’s real life is so often the life that one does not lead.” ~ Oscar Wilde

Yesterday a friend told me about some phone calls her 15-year-old granddaughter received on her cell phone. Stuff like, “I’m going to cut your boobs off.” He called the home phone as well.

For the record, our answering machine collected several messages like that directed to our daughter years ago. We took the machine down to the sheriff’s department, but they couldn’t do much except send a deputy to talk to a boy my daughter named as a possible culprit. The calls stopped.

Anyway, my friend is convinced it’s some online someone. She ranted about the evils of Facebook and other social sites. And how nobody should share any of their lives with strangers. Especially online strangers. It’s only asking for trouble.

I didn’t tell her I could be in a heap of trouble. But that’s not been my experience.

Oh, and for the record, our experience happened before Facebook. Maybe even before we had a computer.

Anyway.

I met Diana in an online MT (medical transcription) help forum. We soon discovered we worked for the same company and even lived in the same state. About an hour and a half away. We arranged a meeting at the Rainforest Café and clicked. We spent hours talking. I shared stuff I’d never even told family. And we found we had much in common—like adoption. We roomed together at conferences in Atlanta, Boston, and Honolulu. Shared barrels of laughs. And remain BFFs even though she now lives in northern Arizona where her husband pastors a little church in Holbrook.

Real stuff. Real people.

Jeannine also frequented that same forum. When she mentioned her son had been sent to Afghanistan, a small group of us from across the country and Canada set up a rotating schedule to send a monthly care package. Jeannine and I have also become great friends though we’ve never met in person. We’ve prayed each other through many a crisis and even share the same wedding anniversary. She’s in New Jersey.

Real stuff. Real people.

And then there’s Melinda. We connected on Twitter. I think. Her daughter and my granddaughter are the same age. We laugh and tease and share deep stuff and pray for each other. She’s very real, and we will meet one day—maybe somewhere between Florida and Michigan. Like maybe Tennessee where we have mutual online friends.

Real stuff. Real people.

And there are others, intergenerational—established friendships, reconnected friendships, developing friendships. With school classmates and writers and bloggers and those of High Calling. Folks who inspire and encourage. Who stretch me and push me into zones of discomfort. Who aren’t afraid to confront and correct.

Friendships of substance. Not of surface. And if asked how I am, I can tell the truth.

I don’t remember how I connected with Karin. A friend of a friend? A bloggy stumble? Does it matter? I love her Jesus heart and her photo art. How she shares His light.

I think some of my virtual friends are more real than some of my real friends.

I think I’m more real with some of my virtual friends than some of my real friends.

I’m not sure why. Maybe because most of my online friends are writers of some sort. We communicate better in writing. We understand each other. Maybe it’s easier to undress our thoughts and feelings when nobody is looking. To drop the covers. To take a risk.

Most of my friends are also fireflies, like Karin, chasing after the Light. Maybe there is something more powerful about connecting heart-to-heart and light-to-light than eye-to-eye and hand-to-hand. Or at least in that order.

What I do know is that I’ve found real in what I would have missed in the real. In whom I might have bypassed on sight. Like a blind person who falls in love. And then receives sight.

And even more interesting. I think because of the real in the virtual, I’m becoming real in the real.

And I’m pretty sure none of my friends are ax murderers.

Real stuff. Real people.

Family.

“I thank my God every time I remember you.” Philippians 1:3

Stop over at High Calling Blogs to read the posts of everyone who particpated in this project.

Slow as molasses - Apology and re-rant

Image via Wikipedia

I am not an intentional lurker. I love reading the words of others, and enjoy leaving encouraging comments and replies.

I follow your posts in my Google Reader because I often cannot even connect to your actual blogs. I'm thankful indeed that I am able to read your words this way.

Yes, I am ranting yet again about my insidiously slow dial-up internet connection and the total lack of other options when I am at home.

I am not ignoring any of you. I long to be able to let you know that I am touched and moved by your words and am cheering you on.

Please accept this small apology and know that I comment as often as I can.

Blessings to you all as you press in for more of what God asks you to share.

Flashback Friday - Washed and forgiven

Today I'm taking a trip back to a time when I wandered down a slippery slope and needed to return to the love and cleansing only Jesus could provide.

The need to be wanted shouted strongly in my head and heart, so loudly, in fact, that as a new born Christian it still lead me to do foolish things.

I went back to a habit of chatting with strangers on the computer and even on the telephone. I was able to convince myself that it was okay to play with them, even sexual type games, as long as it never became real. I rationalized that doing so would keep me from seeking out true physical pleasure. I even told these men that I was a Christian and would not become sexually involved with anyone but the man who would be my husband, and then only after we had married.

One of them, a twenty nine year old who lived in Las Vegas called himself sincity as a screen name. That should have been enough to send me running in the opposite direction, but instead I was drawn to his dominating style. I was still longing to be submissive to something greater than myself, and this got confused in my mind as the need for a man who would take control of me.

We lived out a fantasy via keyboard and telephone, although with God's hand protecting me even then, I would only pretend to do some of the things he would ask of me. I found myself more anxious to get home to his phone calls than I was to read my bible. Though I knew I was walking a dangerous line, following down a road that felt wrong, I never stopped attending church or the Tuesday bible study.

We spoke about meeting in real life. I could go there for a visit. Perhaps we would marry for that would have been my preference. There would be no physical contact until that time. Plans for traveling were discussed, words of love were exchanged and the games continued.

One night he was angry that I had not obeyed him and called at exactly the time he had asked me to. Then he said that it would never work between us, for he would eventually want children and I did not. My heart was broken once again, and I found myself begging him to reconsider. His silence was like sticks and stones cast open my open wounds.

I would call but he would not answer. One morning, he finally picked up the phone.

“When you have a broken heart, you go talk to your best friend” I said to him. “What am I supposed to do since you're my best friend, but also the very one who broke my heart.”

What he said in reply was the wisest advice he could have offered, and it must have been the Holy Spirit speaking through him, so unlike him were the words.

“Go talk with the women at your bible study. Tell them everything. They will help you.”

“I can't” I answered. “I feel dirty and ugly and wrong. How could I? I can't.”

“Yes, you can.” he said firmly “and you will.” With that, he hung up the phone. Those were the last words I ever heard him speak.

I knew I had to do as he had said. And I realized with a start that it was Tuesday. That very day I would have to face my friends and admit to the games I had been playing in secret. I was dirty and had to ask God again to wash me clean. Had I gone too far from His forgiveness?

I walked into the room where the women met for bible study, pale, and with dark circles rimming eyes that were swollen and red. I didn't have to say anything at all for them to know something was wrong, terribly wrong.

“I need to talk to you all.” I began. “I need your help.” I began to weep and could not continue as sobs moved through my entire being. The women gathered closer around me. They passed the box of tissues. They rested hands upon my shoulders. They waited. I cried. They waited, with great patience, never once saying the “get on with it.” I would have expected. They waited and prayed quietly in various tongues. They waited.

“I feel” I began again “so dirty and so wrong and so far away from God. And I know I have to tell you and I hate myself right now.”

“Go on, we're listening.” said Rebecca.

I told them about the games I had been playing, how I tried to convince myself it was okay, how my heart had been broken.

“What feels the worst is that I turned my back on God and what I know is right, and that I kept it all a secret. I kept coming to church and meeting with you, but never said a word about what I was doing. I think I knew all along that it was wrong.” I began sobbing again, but could feel that much of the pain had already decreased.

“You just did the right thing” said Peggy, another of the ladies who had been guiding me, mentoring me. “When we confess to God and to each other, He is faithful to forgive us. I'll bet you are already starting to feel better, right?”

I had to agree. “How did you know?” I asked.

“We all fall short of what God wants from us” Peggy said. “All of us, in one way or another. You're not as alone as you think you are.”

They all placed a hand upon me and prayed that I would feel the forgiveness of the Lord. They prayed for strength for me to remain pure in His sight. They prayed that I would continue to seek His will, and His will alone. Only then did they begin their scheduled lesson for the day.

My journal entry that night began:

“Dear Father, let me not be too proud to admit when I have made a mistake. I can only be in error when I have stepped away from Your will. When I handle things the wrong way, it's from bad choices I've made, and the blame is mine. Let me remember that, and not be disappointed in You. My connection with you seemed broken, not by Your hand but mine. You don't turn away, ever present. But you allow me the power to choose and I chose to step down a slippery path. Faster and faster I slid, each step moving farther in the wrong direction. You watched. How much did that hurt You? How can I say I'm sorry, Lord? As You welcome me back to Your arms.”

I truly did feel cleansed by the tears and confession and my sleep that night was deep and warm, wrapped in the love of the forgiveness of God.

"Come now, let us reason together," says the LORD. "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool. Isaiah 1:18 NIV

Join us at Together For Good and share one of your own flashbacks!

Apologizing - Re-rant

Image by nimbu via Flickr

In January I posted the following words as part of the post A Rant - An Apology . Nothing has changed as far as connection speed, and I feel progressively worse about my inability to leave comments on many of your blogs. So I offer these words of apology again as my way of asking for your patience and forgiveness.

I seem to waste ridiculous amounts of time waiting for my computer to respond to simple requests. I get frustrated. I get impatient. I get angry at our lack of options. It's not that we refuse to pay for high-speed, or wireless, or satellite or cable, there is none available.

"I love my life here in the country" I tell myself again and again. And I do.

But....

When I try to reach out and connect with many of you I find that your pages won't load. I can't view your videos, never mind enter into the new realm of vlogging. The connection is just too slow.

Most painful of all is my inability to leave as many comments as I'd like. As a blogger, I know how those words of encouragement and understanding, those "amens" spur us on. I don't enjoy being a lurker when I truly do have things to share with you.

So I ask for your forgiveness. I'm with you. I'm reading and loving your words and hearts. I'm sending you my prayers. I'm leaving my responses where and when I can.

Will you join me in prayers that internet options here will soon change? And please be patient with me until that time comes.

A rant - An apology

I love the life the Lord gave to me here in the middle of nowhere. I love our land. I love my home. I even love the fact that it can be winter for more than eight months of the year.

I do not miss the rush of urban life, the crowds, the noise, the dirt. I lived in that for 43 years and gratefully left it behind. Now my life moves in time with the seasons of sowing and reaping, seed time and harvest, a rhythm that is real and natural. Connections have been planted here.

In. Real. Life.

But there is another place that I live as well. A place with no walls, no borders, no limits. Using technology we can reach out to the world and forge connections that would otherwise be impossible.

So begins my rant. There is a very annoying aspect to this country beauty that surrounds me. Slow, SLOW, painfully SLOW dial-up internet. Our connection gets no faster than 28k, yes that's "k" friends. Some people wonder how I manage to blog at all. It must be the spirit of perseverence that God gifted me with, like the persistant widow.

Jesus told them a story showing that it was necessary for them to pray consistently and never quit. He said, "There was once a judge in some city who never gave God a thought and cared nothing for people. A widow in that city kept after him: 'My rights are being violated. Protect me!' "He never gave her the time of day. But after this went on and on he said to himself, 'I care nothing what God thinks, even less what people think. But because this widow won't quit badgering me, I'd better do something and see that she gets justice—otherwise I'm going to end up beaten black-and-blue by her pounding.'" Luke 18:1-5 The Message

I seem to waste ridiculous amounts of time waiting for my computer to respond to simple requests. I get frustrated. I get impatient. I get angry at our lack of options. It's not that we refuse to pay for high-speed, or wireless, or satellite or cable, there is none available.

"I love my life here in the country" I tell myself again and again. And I do.

But....

When I try to reach out and connect with many of you I find that your pages won't load. I can't view your videos, never mind enter into the new realm of vlogging. The connection is just too slow.

Most painful of all is my inability to leave as many comments as I'd like. As a blogger, I know how those words of encouragement and understanding, those "amens" spur us on. I don't enjoy being a lurker when I truly do have things to share with you.

So I ask for your forgiveness. I'm with you. I'm reading and loving your words and hearts. I'm sending you my prayers. I'm leaving my responses where and when I can.

Will you join me in prayers that internet options here will soon change? And please be patient with me until that time comes.