Don’t Get Even ~ Get Mad.

Last night I was mad. I was downright furious. I had allowed the words, thoughts, and opinions, of other people get to me on a personal level, and I became incredibly upset. My husband was trying to figure out why I was crying, but when I would try to tell him, he would interrupt me to tell me he didn’t understand. It was over an issue that is very personal for me; an issue that scares me to death, and I have always felt that others don’t just try to tell me how they feel about it, but try to force me to adopt their point of view. I’m sure that’s not always the case, but that’s how I felt last night.

I dug up my prayer journal and I started to write. I was using big letters spread widely apart – not my usual precise handwriting. Three pages later I had to stop. My hand was hurting, I needed to blow my nose, and I didn’t want to think about it anymore.

During my prayer journaling time, Brent had come upstairs to check on me. He sat quietly next to me and let me pour my thoughts and feelings out to God. I started to calm down.

Whether or not it was warranted, I was furious. I don’t know how you pray when you’re furious, but I just let it all out. I didn’t ask for understanding, or for insight on how to deal with people who frustrate me. I didn’t ask for a new outlook on the situation, or for a gentle spirit. I don’t really remember asking for anything. I told God exactly what I thought and how the actions and words of others made me feel. I told Him He was the only one I sought counsel from on these sensitive issues, and that everyone else needed to zip their lips. I told him when I got angry about one issue, suddenly a plethora of other issues flooded my mind and I became angry about those as well – either for the first time or all over again!

I calmed down. I said Amen. My husband and I had a long chat. I slept peacefully. I’m not angry this morning. I am comforted though, that even when I have absolutely nothing encouraging to say, nothing wholesome or gracious, my God still lets me come to Him. He lets me pound on his chest and scream the “WHY?!” questions and He lets me complain, and He lets me weep, and He lets me vent about my disappointments and my feelings of contempt.

David called upon God quite frequently in all sorts of emotional states.
Psalm 22:19: But you, O LORD, be not far off; O my Strength, come quickly to help me.
Psalm 142:2: I pour out my complaint before him; before him I tell my trouble.

But isn’t it wrong to let your feelings, especially your angry feelings, come to surface? Ephesians 4:26 (from Psalm 4:4) In your anger do not sin. Do not let the sun go down on your anger…..

It doesn’t say “DON’T get angry – ever! Don’t do it! Getting upset, angry, or mad is wrong!” No….not hardly.

It’s okay to get angry. It’s okay to feel troubled. You’re allowed to be upset. It’s natural. So long as the end result is you casting your cares upon Him, and turning to Him for refuge and solace ~ it’s okay! He can take it. I promise. I thank God that He is able to take it – because most of the time I can’t.

Do As I Say, Not As I Do.

Ephesians 5:33. There’s a book written on this verse, by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs. Love And Respect. An entire book. The wife must respect her husband. I am a huge fan of this book, and have recommended it to many friends, family members, and strangers. I have been to the video series, I have done the small group study, and I love, love, love this book.

For whatever reason, however, I have a hard time always following through. The wife must respect her husband.

Before I continue with my story, read the following instant message conversation. To give you a little bit of background, my boss has been playing up the office to buy him something big and expensive for his birthday, which is October 22nd. This conversation between the two of us took place one Friday, when he was “working from home”.

Mathew [10:15 AM]:
good morning
have you gotten my birthday gift yet?

Val [10:15 AM]:
I have a week and a half yet.
Greedy Pants.

Val [10:17 AM]:
You, on the other hand, have about until Monday morning to get mine.

Mathew [10:18 AM]:
what do you want?

Val [10:18 AM]:
Um……a company car….?

Mathew [10:19 AM]:
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahaahahahhaahahahhahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahaahahahhaahahahhahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahaahahahhaahahahhahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahaahahahhaahahahhahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahaahahahhaahahahhahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahaahahahhaahahahhahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahaahahahhaahahahhahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahaahahahhaahahahhahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahaahahahhaahahahhahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
hahahahaahahahhaahahahhahahahahahahahahahaha

ok, I am good now

Val [10:19 AM]:
LOL

Mathew [10:23 AM]:
i will do my best

Val [10:24 AM]:
k. I appreciate it.

So Monday morning, he (my boss) asked how my birthday was (on Sunday) and I told him it was nice, I enjoyed myself at the retreat, blahblahblah. Then I asked, “Where’s my company car?” He answered, “The dealership still has it, but I’m going to pick it up after lunch.” Oh….okay…..whatever.

He came in after lunch and launched in to this whole long schpiel about how he had to save the company money so he got an “experimental” model of vehicle that’s not on the market yet. He whipped this toy car out of his pocket and told me it would grow in rain, so I can only drive it on rainy days, otherwise I won’t fit, etc. Haha, we all do the cheesy laugh thing, and I had to take the car away because all the guys in the office wanted to make it roll on my desk over and over and over and over again. (Must be a guy thing.)

Brent called me while I was still at work and I decided to tell him about Matt’s funny joke. “Hey Brent, I got a company car.”
“What?”
“I got a company car.”
“Wait. I need to understand. How?”
“I just asked for one, and Matt brought it to me this afternoon. He asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I told him I wanted a company car, and now I have one.”
“Omigosh! You don’t sound as excited as you should be.”
(Note….at this point, I thought I would see how far I could ride with Brent’s unsuspecting enthusiasm over my “company car”)
“Well I’m still at my desk, and it’s not like I can just freak out at work.”
“So you can just keep it forever, or until you leave the company?”
“Yeah, I can keep it as long as I want.”
“So will I get to see it tonight?”
“Yes, I’m taking it home with me.”
“This is so cool!”
“I know! Okay I have to go, I love you, bye.”
“I love you too! Bye.”

After hanging up, I said out loud, “Wow, he really needs to ask more questions.” He bought it! He is usually very skeptical of me anyway, but when it came to this, he didn’t ask me a single detail! I took a little file folder label and I trimmed it down to size and make a company logo for the car door.

Brent was confused as to why I drove my regular car to my chiropractor appointment after work. He had to meet me there as the chiropractor was giving a new patient orientation, complete with free sandwiches for patients and their significant other. I pulled the company car out of my purse. I smiled. A great big smile. I opened the door and instructed him to “check out the interior on this baby.” Brent wasn’t smiling. At all. In fact, I thought he was going to crush my skull.

I was immediately humbled when he told me under his breath, in the lobby of the chiropractor’s office, “It would’ve been nice to know you were joking before I offered to sell my car to a guy at work.”

I feel bad that I broke my husband’s heart and got his hopes up and all that schmooz, but seriously?! I mean, really?!

The wife must respect her husband. I’m sorry, honey. I do respect you and I do admire and appreciate you. Even if my company car is only three inches long and one inch tall.

Wives….respect your husbands. Do as I say, not as I did…..

Oooooh, the new car smell……

Physically Fit

There is a scriptural reference about running (and finishing) the race. I have never been fond of running. In fact it is the physical activity I like the very, very least. Exercise of all tpyes has lost its appeal to me, though I know it is necessary to maintain a healthy lifestyle and a desireable physique.

My brother-in-law is in the Army. He has served in Afghanistan, Iraq, and state-side, and is one humble dude. We appreciate and admire him for a lot of reasons. This past weekend, he went to Montana for his drill-duty. This was his PT weekend – where they tested physical ability and strength.

My sister just had a baby a month ago. I have yet to meet my nephew, but I will have that opportunity in just over two weeks. We talk on the phone all the time to stay connected, and I especially try to keep her occupied while her husband is away. One thing I have loved about talking to my sister on the phone is hearing baby Travis “honk” and make other various noises while my sister and I chat away.

During our most recent phone conversation, Veronica (sister) informed me she had asked Kalen what the females had to do to pass their PT exams. For push-ups, a female had to do 17 in two (2) minutes. For sit-ups, a female had to do 50 in two (2) minutes. We didn’t talk about the two mile run. (see above on how much I love running)

Mind you, my sister informed me of this at 11:00 p.m. Central time on Saturday night. I may have been slightly delusional.

“Fifty? That’s it? I can do fifty.” I said.

“Are you sure? I could only do 24.” says my sister, who JUST HAD A BABY A MONTH AGO!

I put the phone on speaker. I laid down on my living room rug in front of my picture window thinking to myself, “please don’t let the neighbors see me doing sit-ups at 11 at night, in my living room…..” I stuck my feet under the sofa and crossed my arms over my chest, turning to talk at the phone.

“Wait…..do I have to sit all the way up? Or are we talking crunch-style?”

“You have to have your hands intertwined behind your neck, and your chin has to go beyond your pelvis, so essentially, yes, sit all the way up.”

“Oh…….crap. I’m hosed.” It was the realization that I had to do this the old-school way, and crunches apparently were not acceptable in the military. “Okay…..time me.”

She told me when to begin and I counted out loud. I have to admit, I was off to a really good start, and when I hit 24 in under 30 seconds, I thought for sure I would make it to 50.

“Twenty……*huff puff huff puff*……five…..”

I slammed back down on the rug. “Omigosh, Veronica, this is getting painful.”

She laughed.

“Twenty……*huff puff huff puff screech*…….six…..”

I had to take a break.

Each one was harder and harder but I had to see how many I could do. I hear her say, “One minute warning, Valerie.”

Are you serious? It took me 30 seconds to do TWO sit ups?

I did three more sit ups. I got to 30. On the last sit up, it took every ounce of strength I had to get myself up. I was pulling so hard with my lower body that I moved my entire sofa forward with my feet. I collapsed. My abdominal muscles had failed. I could not even sit myself up to get off the floor. I had to roll over on to my stomach and push myself up off the floor.

She was proud of me….my sister who just had a baby a month ago and did 24.

I broke out in a sweat and was parched from my “intense” work out. I had to go to the kitchen and get a glass of ice water. Veronica told me again she was proud of me. Did I mention she just had a baby a month ago?

I took a quick peek out the window to make sure there were no neighbors standing in their windows with the quizzical “What is she doing?” look that I am all too familiar with…..the coast was clear.

Here I am two days later experiencing what my college fitness instructor labled as DOMS. Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness. It hurts to laugh. It hurts to sit. It hurts to sit up.

I may not be fit to be a soldier in the army that defends my country, but I am fit to be a soldier for Christ. He doesn’t require me to do X amount of sit ups in X amount of time, but He does require discipline and strength in ways only He is capable of providing.

I’m so glad I found my prayer journal last week…..and I’m so glad I did more sit ups than my sister…..

Giving Thanks

Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

This morning when I woke up, after being able to sleep in for the first time in a long time, the first thing I noticed was how my back and neck ached. A few days ago I wrenched myself and haven’t recovered since. I go back to the chiropractor on Monday.

I started my day with a bowl of cereal and noticing the sun was shining – always a good thing for a Saturday. As I enjoyed my serving of fruit……y pebbles, I remembered I needed to take my paycheck to the bank for a deposit. Lately I’ve been pretty solemn when it comes to money. After starting a new job and being placed on a new pay schedule, I can’t quite figure out when the money comes in versus when it needs to go out. It’s a rough balance, and something I’m pretty “sore” about. My check was already spent and I was thinking of all the things I’d rather do with the money, and how bitter I am about the debt we’ve found ourselves in.

I threw on my slippers, pulled my hair back, and headed to the bank. There weren’t many cautious or defensive drivers on the road this morning. I’m only a few blocks from my bank, but I was wondering a lot of the way there and back, where these people learned to drive. I then made a mental note to myself that since most accidents occur within three miles of home, in case someone hits me, I might want to put on a bra and some actual shoes next time. You know, so the fireman aren’t flashing various parts of me if they have to extract me from my vehicle…..

I came home and was disappointed to see the tremendous amount of leaves in our yard. That’s a lot of raking, and raking is tough work, and tough work is not usually something I enjoy partaking in. Besides, half of these leaves are from the neighbors’ tree, and I doubt they would ever offer to come help us clear our lawn.

It was time to get in the shower. That was when it hit me. I’ve struggled with a negative attitude for a long time. My whole life. It’s my default. No matter the situation or circumstance, I could very well be the first to tell you what’s wrong with it, why it won’t work, or why it’s bothersome and annoying to me. I have a problem.

Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

In my prayer journal I read a lot of prayers I had written asking God to give me an attitude adjustment. Looking back I see how he gave me new perspective and insight in situations where I would otherwise be a Debbie Downer. It is still a prayer I need to pray, however, and one I most likely will never be able to stop.

I tried to recount my day. I’m glad I have sensation and the ability to walk and twist and turn, even if it might be a little achy today. I’m glad we have trees in our neighborhood and a beautiful house with a lawn that my husband loves to take care of. I’m glad we have jobs where we’re able to make an income and provide for the things we need, and that we have a mindset to work towards paying down our debt.

Is it more true than cliche, that every cloud has it’s silver lining? I’m going to make it my goal to prove it so.

As I was in the shower, I was glad Brent was out doing his recreational football reffing….and I started to sing. I don’t sing in the shower. Ever. I never know who’s listening. Today I didn’t care. I sang hymns….old hymns…..and belted them out at the top of my lungs. The bathroom has pretty good acoustics when it’s filled with steam and you can hardly hear yourself over the whining of the shower head.

I am thankful for a lot of things. Most especially for forgiveness, mercy, and grace. Just as I am, without one plea, but that thy blood was shed for me, and that thou bidst me come to Thee, o Lamb of God I come…..I come.

I came across this video on Youtube. Nicol Sponberg was an original member of the group Selah, one of my favorite Christian groups. This woman has some pipes. She absolutely puts me in awe and amazement every time I hear her voice. This song is a pretty accurate account of what my plea was several days ago. I hope it speaks to you as it does me.

The Journal

There used to be a time when I felt so connected, so in tune with God and the plans He had for me. I was an intercessor. In prayer, I was a warrior for others. In talking with others, I had answers to their questions I had no way of knowing myself. The gifts He shared with me were so numerable. There used to be a time when my relationship was so obvious, and my focus was so sincere. Where did the time go?

When I think back to a more spiritual, happier time, I think back to when Brent (husband) and I lived in Cody, Wyoming. If you’ve never been, I will tell you that you are doing yourself a horrible injustice. For what it’s worth, Yellowstone National Park is my most favorite place in the universe. (Out of the many places I’ve been in the universe, which consist of 25 states and Victoria, Canada, Yellowstone National Park is my most favorite.)

We lived 54 miles from the east entrance to the park. The drive there is so majestic – the scenery so picturesque. Raw, rustic, in-your-face nature is all you see. I drove that route a thousand times, and never grew tired of it. To be surrounded by a beauty unobtainable in our own rights, and to know that I had the privilege of seeing it from my kitchen window every day – that was my happy place. That was my heaven on earth. Never did I feel so connected to God, so able to worship Him, than when I would look out to the mountains and see His handiwork.

I used to write in a prayer journal almost every night. In trying to pray aloud, I would find myself becoming so easily distracted and praying would take hours for how my thoughts would stray. I started writing in this prayer journal to keep myself more focused and committed to the specific prayers I needed to communicate for the day. There were prayers of praise, of concern, of anger, and of sorrow. It was my open book – literally – my letters to God every night.

January 1st, 2006, Brent and I moved to Fargo, North Dakota. Everything we could fit into a trailer, two cars, and my parents’ pick up came with us. We moved in the dead middle of winter. All I saw for weeks was white (snow) and gray (clouds). I drove on ice until April, that had resulted from a storm the previous November. Yet we moved here as we believed we were told to do so by God. For what purpose, we still don’t know. But we knew, without a doubt, Fargo was in His will for us. There are no mountains here. There is no Yellowstone. One day while driving to work, I was excited to see the huge land mass that appeared to be some sort of hill. I found out later that was the dump.

The prayer journal stayed packed for a long time. I remember seeing it in it’s box. I remember thinking, “Oh….there it is…..I should……” and going off with another task, another distraction, another deed. At some point it got put in another box, and on to a shelf, before being packed up to move from our apartment to our house.

Since moving to Fargo I have wrestled. I have wrestled with being away from family, away from friends, and away from my happy place. I know moving to Fargo was God’s will and I know He spoke to me directly and told me we were to move here. I think, however, on some unknown and mysterious level of my being, I resent Him for bringing me here.

My prayers since moving here have been generic. Rehearsed. Mostly forced. I pray because I know I should, not because I have the desire to do so. I know my relationship with God has suffered, and I know I have lost my spiritual intuitions. I know I have faulted, re-faulted, and faulted again. If “faulted” isn’t a word, it is today. I know how it could be, yet still I struggle with making any effort.

This past weekend while steam-cleaning our house, (*note: “steam-clean” is the term I use when I am in fast forward, full steam ahead, cleaning like a crazy lady) I came across the prayer journal. I have to admit, when I first saw it, I looked away. I immediately felt shame when I saw it. A wire-bound notebook was convicting me of my priority structure.

“Oh. There it is. Okay……Look, God….I know I’ve -……I know I’ve been neglecting you……”

Seriously? Was I seriously trying to talk my way around leaving a journal on a shelf? I remembered, instantly upon seeing it, that was more than a journal. That was my open book – my venue of one-on-one time with my Maker….with my Savior.

I picked it up. I started to read. March, 2005. Wow…..all these prayers, all these petitions that I had seen answered. Some I had forgotten about. I slowly read and browsed through the pages, trying to remember what I was feeling those days, what had happened, what I might have experienced to prompt me to request something specific. April, May, – all up until the move in December of 2005. Three entries – three – from 2006. Then…..forgotten. In a box, on a shelf, away.

What struck me most was how evident my love for God was in these prayers. Every prayer started with a praise. (Except for the one I wrote apparently immediately after Brent and I had a fight….) The shame grew inside of me.

To look upon what He had done, how He had guided during those times, and how I had responded by going my own way…I can’t even tell you how I felt, how I feel about that….

Last night I picked up a pen. I hesitated to date the page. 2008. I confessed, I wrote, about how I had left. I wrote out my prayer. I prayed a real, genuine, intimate prayer. I thought about crying. I was sorry….I am sorry…..but I am healing. Looking back I see the single set of Footprints. It took me finding a journal to realize and to remember, that all this time, He has carried me.

I hope now to make more prayer pages, and leave fewer blank ones. My life can’t sit on a shelf, nor can my relationship with Him.