In Her Brokenness to Stand Alone, She Found Her Freedom

I have a special bond with nature.

I admire it probably more than I should. I drive the same route to work, to church, to town just about every single day and there’s one piece of nature that I can’t help but think about and admire as I drive. In the middle of an open field, the field surrounded by a multitude of trees and a creek and houses as a fence around the barren area, stands one lone tree.

I love lone trees. I enjoy watching them throughout the seasons. I relish in their beauty in the fall, and feel a tinge of sorrow for them in the winter. Oh, I know all the trees that surround this tree and the open field will all lose their leaves as the snow approaches but this lone tree loses them obviously sooner than the others. The limbs no longer reach upward toward the heavenly skies but jut out in a random array of mangled twigs and gnarly branches. It is not a pretty tree by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s loneliness is a haunting beauty that one can’t help but wonder about the “life” it’s lived.

But to stand alone.

Standing alone is a brave task.

It’s this standing alone that brings me to this post today.

Have you ever felt alone? Like no one could understand you? Like no one wanted to understand you? You stand alone in an empty field, barren and broken.

The tree I like watching through the seasons reminds me of myself. We all go through our own seasons of growth and we go through our seasons of dying off or feeling alone and we suffer loneliness and brokenness in this life. But often, I feel like that tree and believe no one could ever truly relate to the events that have taken place in my life.

I’m also reminded of a story which took place in the bible thousands of years ago. Jesus and His disciples had been walking along ministering to people over the course of days, weeks, maybe even months at the time of this story. Their feet, possibly bare, and wearing flimsy sandals at best, had traveled over dirty roads, dusty pathways, and rocky terrain. Their feet and the feet of Jesus were possibly scarred from injury, possibly wound infested, but most definitely dirty and smelly at the introduction of this story.

As found in Luke chapter 7, here the story goes as follows:

Jesus had been invited for dinner at the home of a Pharisee (one of the traditional Jewish people, and a religious leader of the Jews). As the dinner was about to be served, Jesus reclined at the table in wait for the meal. In comes what the bible describes as a “sinful woman”. We don’t know how she was allowed into this Pharisee’s home or if she had crept in quietly, unbeknownst to the men gathered there. But she had heard that this Jesus was here in this home and she had made her way to Him for one purpose.

To wash His feet.

But it was the woman who received

the best gift that night.

She knelt at Jesus’ feet and we are told she brought her alabaster jar of perfume (alabaster is a fine white material used to carve ornaments and jars into). This jar contained the woman’s perfume, possibly the perfume she used in her sinful life. Some commentaries deduce that this woman was a prostitute or “woman of the night.” She had seduced many men with her charm, her appeal, her looks, her perfume. And yet, this woman thought she could bring that alabaster jar and anoint the feet of the Messiah, the Savior of the world. In fact, she brought to Him all she had to offer. She had no riches, no fame, no true reason to believe Jesus would even see her, let alone greet her with a holy kiss or warm compassionate embrace.

Still, she came to those dirty feet of the Master.

And as she knelt, she began to cry over His feet. We aren’t told why she cried, but we can believe that she cried out her sins to the Man who knew her sins already. He knew her sinful life and loved her unconditionally. The woman then used her hair which should have been put up and covered, as was customary, to dry her own tears from Jesus’ feet, kissed his feet, and poured her perfume over them.

The Pharisee, indignant, asked himself how Jesus, this self-proclaimed prophet, one who could see into the future and knew things a simple man or even a religious leader did not know–surely this Jesus knew that this woman was sinful and should not be near such a religious bunch of men. She was not allowed to associate with such people; surely Jesus knew her sins and her lifestyle. How on earth could He allow this woman to touch Him, let alone become so intimate and close to Him?

We pick up in verse 40 of chapter 7.

⁴⁰ Jesus answered him, “Simon, I have something to tell you.”

“Tell me, teacher,” he said.

⁴¹ “Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. ⁴² Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?”

⁴³ Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.”

“You have judged correctly,” Jesus said.

Jesus then goes on to speak directly to the Pharisee, keeping His eyes on the woman, comparing the woman and what she offered versus what he had offered.

“Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. ⁴⁵ You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. ⁴⁶ You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. ⁴⁷ Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”

⁴⁸ Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”

And again, to the sinful woman, Jesus replies,

“Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

This woman. How dare she! How dare she come into this Pharisee’s house and act the way she did in front of his guest! How dare she bring her sinful perfume used to lure men into lust and pour it out over Jesus, this religious teacher!

Yes, how dare she.

I love this woman. I’ve been this woman. Oh, I’ve never lived her lifestyle, but I have been reduced to my sinful nature and have hit rock bottom before the Lord. I have made mistakes and committed my own sins that Jesus has forgiven me from. And if the truth be told, I’m still a sinful woman. I sin likely daily. Whether it be my attitude or my thoughts or my actions, I know I’m far from perfect in the eyes of the “religious leaders” and in the sight of God. But still, I come. Like this woman, I come and bring whatever I have to offer at the feet of Jesus.

But here’s the kicker.

The woman came alone.

Like the tree in the middle of the field I described, she stood, rather knelt alone. Like the tree, exposed, this woman came to Jesus, knowing He knew her sin before she could even utter one word. Like the tree with gnarly limbs and ugliness in appearance, this woman came to Jesus broken and “useless” in the sight of men but was embraced as precious and even forgiven in the sight of the Savior.

And yet, she approached Jesus alone.

No one forced her to attempt this act.

She came alone.

And in her loneliness and vulnerability, she was forgiven immediately. Her faith in Jesus made her whole and worthy of His love and grace and mercy.

But she came alone. Standing alone is a brave thing to do. And this woman came to Jesus.

Alone.

 *Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

 

 

 

 

What You See Is Not Always What You Get

I have just finished reading one of two books I’m into these days. One is a book about finding your purpose and basically kicking fear in the teeth; the other is a book  called Boundaries by Townsend and Cloud.

My life coach lives and breathes by that book, among others, and recommended it to me when we first started our sessions. I read the first couple of chapters but never finished it. She suggested I try again and not to speed read, as is my tendency with books (I like to get as many books read in a year as I can and then share those results with my social media “family.”) But with this book I am really trying to take my time reading, highlighting and underlining and taking notes along the way. I am trying to slow down to take it all in.

As I finished reading this morning, I sat in my most comfortable arm chair, one I’ve written about before as being my comfort for days when I feel stressed, sensing the arms around me envelop me in a warm embrace. I feel safe there.

I rested in my favorite chair, worked on finishing up my once-hot coffee, now turning to a cool, almost cold beverage that I could barely swallow, and looked out my front picture window.

Across the highway, stands my neighbors’ house. The couple who live there moved in several years ago and the husband was one of my elementary teachers. The couple are both retired now and have much time to keep their lawn perfectly mowed all throughout the spring, summer, and fall seasons. It makes our lawn look like an episode of Hoarders (ok not that bad, but you get the picture–my husband and I both work full-time jobs so household work gets put on the back burner much of the time).

I looked across the country road to our other neighbors’ house, and their niche is landscaping. They have been neighbors to me and my family of origin for over 40 years. They have a multitude of trees, plants, shrubs, flowers galore, and they are both well into their 60s and 70s. They work hard every single day to maintain and keep their yard trimmed and well-groomed.

This home, I’ve been in several times in my life, as their girls were friends of mine growing up. But it’s been a long time since I’ve been inside their home. I know they have done home improvements and have created a unique space for themselves inside and outside their house. I can only imagine what it looks like now compared to what I remember from my childhood.

The first neighbor I introduced, well, I’ve only been in their house a handful of times and that was when I was really young. The people who owned the house before my former teacher and his wife were an elderly couple who had a basketball goal on their driveway and me and my dad and my middle brother would go play there from time to time. I only remember being in the house a few times; since the newest  owners, I can only imagine what the inside looks like.

That’s where this writing takes me today: does the outside match the inside?

I sat in my comfy chair, just looking out my picture window in the living room and across the highway to my neighbors’ house. What was it like inside these days? I can imagine it was a spotless and clean as they kept their yard–neat and tidy. I wondered if they sat in their living room, drinking their coffee, and after their quiet reading time, looked across the highway to our home. What would they imagine seeing?

Last summer, I made it my project to paint all the shutters on our house (that’s 10 to be exact). We live in a grey Cape Cod house where the white porch posts stand erect as they march across the front like soldiers fighting in a row in the Revolutionary War. Add two turquoise rocking chairs perched on either side of the front door, and on one side, an end table to match and you have my front porch. The shutters used to be a burgundy but I chose a more friendly yellow to paint them and freshen up our house a bit.

As I painted and listened to music, drinking an occasional sweet tea, I would have the opportunity to look inside the house, into one of our three windows on the ground level. There I would see our youngest son in the middle window, waving at me or asking me what I was doing.

I was trying to clean up the outside while the inside remained . . . well, not so tidy.

Don’t get me wrong . . . our house has it’s moments of being clean but with two boys and full-time jobs and with me and my writing gig, the house gets neglected more often than not.

So what would my neighbors see if they looked inside one of the three windows today?

The first window on the left would be my dining room/office. It’s where homework is done and writing gets written. Bills get paid here and books are arranged on one of two bookshelves in the space allotted as “the library.”  And I have MANY books. My husband frequently inquires about the elimination of books to create space for literature I see as really essential. However, how can I possibly part with any of my “babies?” I have tried over the years, but I never know when I will begin reading a book purchased years ago or if I’ll wish to re-read a book I have read more than once already. I just can’t seem to part with any of them.

The far right window, if the blinds were open, would reveal the master bedroom. It might find the television on with a football game playing or if in the evening, a popular and amusing sit-com. The bed would not be made and there would be a mountain of my clothes (right, I readily admit they are mine and my husband does not contribute to the  pile, but in my defense, I have a hard time deciding what to wear to work every morning–these are difficult decisions, you know?)

The middle window would open up to a view of my catch all room for laundry. Yes, it’s also the living room, but we seem to make it a room without a view. We excuse the piles of clean clothes folded, ready to be put away by the fact that we don’t get visitors or have parties of people coming in the front door for an evening of entertaining. We just live so far away from town that if we engage in social activities, they are with our friends in town and not in our country home.

I cleaned up the outside, but the inside was still a mess.

That’s how our lives look from time to time. Clean on the outside; messy on the inside.

From scripture, we see the time to anoint a new king of Israel. Samuel, saddened that the Lord would not allow Saul to be anointed, hears from the Lord that he is to go to the house of Jesse of Bethlehem to anoint a son of that man to become the new king. He was to “fill [his] horn with oil and be on [his] way” (I Samuel 16:1 NIV). When Samuel arrived the house of Jesse, he was to sacrifice a heifer and tell the household that the Lord that he had come to anoint the new king.

As the sons of Jesse were examined by Samuel, the Lord rejected each one. Samuel, in his confusion as to where the Lord was guiding him, heard God say, “Do not consider his appearance of his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (I Samuel 16:7 NIV).

Samuel asked if these men were all Jesse had to offer; in response, Jesse tells him there is one more son tending the sheep in the fields. When the last son arrived, Samuel noticed “he [David] was ruddy, with a fine appearance and handsome features” (I Samuel 16:12 NIV) even though he was the youngest.

The other brothers looked more kingly than the youngest brother, but God saw David’s heart and knew what David would look like as a king. He knew David from the inside out.

Does God know me from the inside out?

The answer is “yes”. Whether you are a believer or not, God knows you so intimately; more than you think you know yourself.

So, you can try to clean up the outside, but if the inside is not tidied up, God still sees the inside of man. He knows not only the outward appearance but

He Looks at the Heart.

What are you trying to hide today? What are you trying to fix up on the outside but your inside is falling apart? God sees our faults and loves us just as we are. We don’t need to fix the inside before we invite Him in.

We just have to open the door.

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

When You Feel Nothing . . .

When you feel like a screw up . . . know you’re not.

When you feel stupid . . . know you’re not.

When you feel you can’t go on . . . know you can.

When you feel like the world is killing you . . . it is not.

When you feel your world is crumbling around you . . . know it’s not.

When you feel like no one cares for you . . . know they do.

When you are suffering . . . know you’re not alone.

When you are crying out . . . know someone hears you.

When you sense you’ve lost your way . . . know someone will guide you.

When you feel you’re in  pit . . . know someone has a hand reaching for you.

When you feel an urge of despair . . . know someone is listening to you.

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

Every Day Around the Water Cooler–Drowning In a Sea of Words

Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never–

Yeah, right. Never hurt me?

Words are often the worst kind of hurt!

If you’ve been in the church for any amount of time or have read through the book of James, you know he dedicated a whole chapter on “Taming the Tongue.” Sermons have been preached time and time again on the topic of gossip.

Then why do we still participate in it?

First, let’s define gossip. Merriam-Webster states this:

• information about the behavior and personal lives of other people

• a person who often talks about the private details of other people’s lives

• a person who habitually reveals personal or sensational facts about others

• rumor or report of an intimate nature

• a chatty talk

We all do it. Does it make it right? According to scripture, it makes us out to be unwise in our speech and honestly, not very becoming to the world around us. People soon enough realize that the gossiping persons are not safe people and those unsafe people are soon left alone because of the damage they have caused and can cause for another person. Stay away from the gossip.

What does the bible say about gossip?

• Ephesians 4:29 “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.”
• Proverbs 16:28 “A dishonest man spreads strife, and a whisperer separates close friends.”
• Titus 3:2 “To speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be gentle, and to show perfect courtesy toward all people.”
• James 4:11 “Do not speak evil against one another, brothers. The one who speaks against a brother or judges his brother, speaks evil against the law and judges the law. But if you judge the law, you are not a doer of the law but a judge.”
• James 1:26 “If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person’s religion is worthless.”
• James 3:7-9 “This is scary: You can tame a tiger, but you can’t tame a tongue—it’s never been done. The tongue runs wild, a wanton killer. With our tongues we bless God our Father; with the same tongues we curse the very men and women he made in his image. Curses and blessings out of the same mouth!”

I could go on with more scripture, but I think the concept is clear: do not gossip. It tears down others and builds no one up. Not even yourself.

But the questions remain obvious:

1. If we know the bible states we aren’t to gossip, to have idle chat, to give information to someone else about the private details of another’s life, why do we fall prey to gossip?
2. What makes a person a gossip?

I would say that the answer to the first question is this: we are a fallen people. None of us are safe people. We are all looking to fit in with the crowd and if the crowd is gossiping and we look like we might be on the outside looking in, better to join the crowd than be gossiped about. However, the bible is clear in it’s directive to us and tells us specifically how damaging gossip and idle chatter is to other people and their lives. The bible says to stay out of that trap. That message is clear.

So what makes a person gossip? According to Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend, an unsafe person “may feel insignificant, so gossip gives him/her the sense that he/she is important and on the ‘inside track’…he/she may lack a sense of empathy for the terrible pain that gossip brings to others” (Safe People). Gossip is also considered “triangulation” (a divide and conquer technique used by narcissists and those who wish to better themselves regardless of who is the target or scapegoat) and Proverbs 11:13 states, “A gossip betrays a confidence, but a trustworthy man keeps a secret”.

They go on to remind us “a safe person will hold confidences. He will not use your secrets for his own needs. ‘A perverse man stirs up dissension, and a gossip separates close friends’ (Proverbs 16:28)”.

So we gossip to make ourselves feel like we are on the inside, for our own acceptance or authority in a group or with another person so we are not looked at by others from the inside out, but rather that we are already on the inside. We gossip to makes ourselves appear to be in the “know” but when we don’t know all the details and aren’t able to see the big picture and we only focus on specific details, true or “kinda true”, PLUS we lack empathy for the person who is our target, we only bring everyone involved down.

I am far from perfect, but I know what it’s like to be that target. I am working on putting a bridle on my tongue to steer it away from unsafe people who lead me down the gossip trail. I want a life that “builds you up and does not tear you down” (II Corinthians 13:10.)

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

 

Baby, Come Home

We met at the county fair when we were fifteen

We fell in love at first sight, or so it seemed

I gave you my heart; you gave me your ring

We swore our love was truly the real thing.

But the years rolled by, and somehow we’ve lost it

Not sure what happened but I don’t wanna quit.

Your touch has been gone from my skin

I wanna feel your sweet embrace once again.

But now we sit in this room, angry at each other

You say you want to leave; you need time to wander

It’s getting warmer and you want to sow your oats

Use the summer to think, to run, to roam.

As you pack your bags and head out to your truck

I follow behind you, craving one last hug

You say you’ll be back; no need to worry

I don’t know how long I can wait; baby, please hurry.

It’s getting darker outside

I’ve turned on all the lights

There’s nothing I’d rather do

Then wait here all night for you

I’m right here on the swing

Still holding your ring

I’m tired and I’m scared and all alone

Baby, it’s time for you to come home

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

pure passion

We’ve just come off of yet another Hallmark greeting card and the mushy love-fest known as “Valentine’s Day.” Honestly, I am completely content NOT getting gifts or showers of love and affection from my hubs on this glorious and sickening occasion. In fact, I practically exonerate him from bestowing on me candy that will only increase my waistline, grant him clemency from sending delivery people to my workplace or home with flowers that, although they are beautiful, will die before I get the opportunity to fully embrace their fragrance and bloom. In other words . . .

I let my dude off the hook.

Oh, it’s not that I don’t enjoy those gifts, or even just a simple card or love note.

But let’s get real, shall we?

If you get those flowers, etc delivered or sent to you on the SAME day as EVERYONE else is–is it really THAT special then? I mean, I would rather my man do something for me on a day where it is NOT “expected” or anticipated. EVERYONE gets gifts on Valentine’s Day, right? (Or if they don’t, they send their significant other to the couch, or worse, the infamous dog house.)

We’ve lost something here over time, people. We’ve lost a key element to sustaining a beautiful lifelong romance. We’ve decided to settle on what everyone else has when all we really desire is to be unique and chosen to be set apart by the one we love.

We have lost passion.

Not the hot-blooded, can’t-wait-to-get-you-home and . . . well, you get it.  Not that kind of passion. But we’ve lost the passion for bettering those around us. Passion is not confined to a physical can’t-keep-your-hands-off-each-other element. Where is passion demonstrated for us first? Dare I say, from God Himself?

Hear me out on this one. 

pas·sion (noun)

1.strong and barely controllable emotion.

     “a man of impetuous passion”

2. the suffering and death of Jesus

     “meditations on the Passion of Christ”

Jesus, Son of the living God first told us about this passion we are to have for Him and for others . . . and then, get this–HE SHOWED US PASSION by giving His very life on a cruel cross to save us from our own sins!

In Matthew 22:37-40, we read, “Jesus said, ‘Love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence.’ This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: ‘Love others as well as you love yourself.’ These two commands are pegs; everything in God’s Law and the Prophets hangs from them.”

So this “passion” we celebrate for the one we love? Not quite the same as Christ teaches us about.  However, what if chose to run after Christ first, our full passion, adoration, desire all leading to Him? Would our passion look differently in our relationships, our friendships, our work, our world? Would we find ways to serve others first, with no expectation or return on that humble act? Would we EXPECT flowers, candy, cards, dinner out from our significant other on ONE DAY of the year or would we demonstrate the passion we have with every ounce of our being, with no demand or anticipation of reciprocity TO and FOR the ones we love?

I choose to follow passionately the One who first fell in love with me for ME, before I was even brought in this world. I choose to run after and pursue Jesus Christ.

I love the group Jesus Culture and I especially adore Kim Walker-Smith (seriously, I have to refrain from being entirely envious of that raspy voice of hers). Kim sings a song that I have always been in love with and I’ll leave you with this:  my desire is to have passion for Christ above all things and allow Him to pursue me as I draw closer to Him each day for strength and wisdom and freedom. My testimony from the song goes as follows:

Jesus, I glorify; Jesus, my love is Yours

You are my heart’s desire; I live to know You more

John 3:16 “This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life.”

THIS is true passion.

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

innocence

*Author’s note:  I wrote many years ago when I blogged under a different name oh-so-many ages ago. I’m a different person now; I’m in a different place in my life now; however, this writing is timeless. Enjoy my love story . . .

Today, I fell in love. His eyes draw me in from the moment he looks at me. I can’t even explain the feeling I have except I know it’s true love. I’ve waited my whole life to feel this way. So alive, so truly alive. It’s strange, really, when I’ve talked to young girls about love and how they should be patient to find that one true love. In fact, I never expected to find such happiness myself. How many times does one—can one—fall in love? I remember the first time I said I was in love, but it was so long ago . . . junior high, in fact. How silly. And I’ve said I was in love so many times after that, it’s hard to count that high. But this feeling—this feeling will never go away.

And I’m 29 years old. Old lady, to some, to fall in love so deeply. But, you can’t help what happens in life and you can’t predict when life will give you what you’ve longed for. Twenty-nine years.  And painful? Yes, it was so painful to get to him, waiting all those years. But I don’t regret the wait, the tears, the pain, the fear. Looking at him now, I want to hold him forever. His hands entwined in mine and I can’t help but feel my eyes moisten now, wanting to kiss him. His cheeks are soft as I graze my finger along gently and slowly. He smiles at me—or at least I pretend he does.

Never could I explain the emotions I feel right now as he comes to my arms. His skin is warm next to mine and his face is perfection.

I pull him close and whisper, “Welcome to the world, my son.  Welcome, my baby boy.”

*Follow-up:  For my first baby. I wrote this for him so many years ago and today he turns another year older. Love that kid, even though we butt heads more than we’d like, but it’s what you get when you put two of a kind in the same room. He is my heartbeat and my world. He is so supportive of me and my career and my writing; he even asked if I would read what I was going to post today and when I read this, he smiled halfway through, realizing it was for him. Happy birthday, Son. I’m so incredibly proud of you and am beyond blessed that God allowed me to be your mom.  Love you, Kid.

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .

Campaign for the New Year . . . starting now

Protein, carbohydrates, cholesterol, antioxidants, organic foods, bottled spring water.  Exercise, get eight or more hours of sleep each night, sneeze and cough in your sleeve . . . and on and on.  My goodness!  The list for healthy living could stretch as long as the marathon we should be running.  For some reason, we have become obsessed with healthy living and as a result, have turned into freakish germi-phobes.  Don’t get me wrong, staying healthy and living healthy are very important, but enough already!  Stop the paranoia and stop feeding into the media frenzy.  You’re only creating another health concern from the constant barrage of worry:  your mental health.  You want to make life better?  It’s very simple.

I am a high school English teacher in a small mid-western community. This is currently my 20th year in education.  No, I’m not a doctor, nor have I ever played one on T.V.  But I am an avid reader and I am excellent at observing details–those two keys are crucial to the success of my career choice.  They also melt into my philosophy of the importance of reading and observing.

As a reader, I was given a book by a colleague of mine.  Early in my teaching career, I was single, but was looking–too hard–for Mr. Right.  I didn’t even know the man who is now my husband, so when my friend gave me the popular relationship book by Gary Chapman called The Five Love Languages, I thought she had lost her mind.  I wasn’t ready to discuss my “language” of love–after all, I didn’t HAVE anyone to share the language with, you know?

However, I read the book.  You know what I observed?  My love language is touch.  I am a touchy-feely kind of person.  Oh, I love gifts and compliments and chores done with a servant’s heart–but I just love and cherish a good hug.  I treasure holding hands.  Besides my husband’s tender spirit and undying patience for my crazy antics, it was his eyes and his hands that drew me to him.  I love good, healthy touch.  It’s necessary.  Our bodies need that nurturing from someone who really cares for us and truly loves us. I love holding my two sons.  Some day–and that day is coming faster than I care to consider–some day, I know they aren’t going to want that same type of affection from their mother.  However, I would rather demonstrate that love for them early so they know it’s completely healthy and good to hug, not only me, their mother, but also their wives, should they get married, and their children, should they be blessed like my husband and I are.

I don’t understand how or why touch is so key to my love language.  Being a survivor of abuse, one would assume touch would be the LAST language I ever wanted to learn or speak.  Yet, when asked the questions in the book, and after much thought, the truth is–I need that healthy, sincere, loving touch, which is strange when I consider my childhood.  I don’t remember hugging a lot with my parents and I had two younger brothers who were ornery as the dickens.  Don’t get me wrong–I knew they all loved me, but not through hugs or touch.  Still to this day, it feels just awkward or uncomfortable to give them a hug good-bye.  Yet, I still need it.  Don’t we all?  Don’t you feel a little better when someone pats you on the back?

I once heard that everybody needs at least six hugs a day.  Six hugs!  How many have you received today?  How many have you given today?  Did you hug your kids today?  How about your spouse?  A friend in need of encouragement?  Just think:  your skin is the largest organ of your whole body.  It’s covered in sensors and nerve endings and the body is healthier when every part works in perfect accord.  Yes, vitamins and healthy eating are good for our bodies, but we also need each other in this big, scary world.  Think about the babies all over our world who never get that sense of security and unconditional love.  They are never held, never coddled, never touched.  What is their development like throughout the remainder of their lives?  Not healthy.

Jesus, Himself, used the love language of touch to draw people to Him.  He demonstrated the importance of showing others love in such a personal avenue.  And when He touches your life, you leave different and better than ever before, praising Him for His love and compassion for you.  His touch is gentle.  His touch is healing.  His touch is freedom.  His touch is real.  His touch is transforming.

Isaiah 64:8 states, “Yet, O Lord, you are our Father.  We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.” As God (the potter) touches our lives (the clay), we are shaped, molded, transformed into the masterpiece He wants to create in us.  His touch is necessary and healthy for our good.

His touch is the very hand of God!

I don’t claim to have healing power.  That’s for God.  I don’t claim to have transforming wisdom or the ability to free people.  Those are also for God in His sovereignty and majestic discernment and divine plan.

But I CAN show love in my hugs–in my sincere demonstration of reaching others. And maybe, just maybe, God can take my hug to someone else and use that to change lives.  Think about how healthier we all could be if we followed the prescription of six hugs per day, just as we take our vitamins and supplements.  Give a hug today.  That person may be lacking touch in their daily diet.

*Author’s note:  My name is Phoenix. I’m just a simple gal living a simple life for God. I’m a wife, mom, teacher, and writer/blogger. I want to let you know how humbled I am that you found my blog and chose to read the words God has given me this day. If you find this, or any other of these writings helpful or encouraging to you or someone you know, please feel free to share with your community/social media/e-mail, etc. I am willing to be used by God and welcome your extension of grace and encouragement.

Blessings to you all. I will rise . . .