Motivation, Application, Wisdom & Joy

“For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.”   ~Galatians 1:10

Why do we do what we do? 

Simple question….lengthy answers? Or could it be a simple answer? 

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During one of my life’s most difficult seasons, my Pastor Reg’s response to my gauntlet of a whirlwind of questions was, “Ask yourself with each decision… What is the wise thing? What is the right thing… what is the wise thing, what is the right thing?” 

What is the wise thing? 

What is the right thing? 

Since then, I cannot tell you the countless times I whisper this question over and over as I face the next thing.

So, why do we do what we do? 

Pride? Ego? People pleasing? Fear of failure? 

Serving myself?  Serving other’s whims and pressures?

Two things that I have pondered ever since that conversation with my Pastor… 

  1. I won’t know what the wise thing is unless I actively seek the giver of wisdom. 

That Bible that sits on my nightstand…  It contains the words from my Father. Why is it so much easier to seek every other source in the world when I face decisions, than to go immediately to the source in prayer?  Am I daily learning more about God, and His ways?  Are my roots growing deeper?  Do I intentionally seek?

You don’t gain knowledge about math without listening to instruction, studying, applying and working it out.  You don’t increase in ability at your sport, or musical instrument, or workplace without listening to instruction, studying, applying, and working it out… See where I’m going with this?  🙂

2.   I often know the wise thing, or the right thing… but I choose otherwise. 

Entertain my silliness for a moment, but when I ask myself, “What is the wise thing..?”  before I decide to eat that huge piece of cheesecake for lunch… well, I do kinda know the answer.  However, I eat it anyway.. and an hour later I feel sluggish, heavy, and I haven’t fed my body the proper fuel for my day to be the best in productivity.  Now, I may make that decision again because that cheesecake is so yummy!  Lol.  But, at least I need to own the consequences.

There are some decisions that carry much more severe weight, and consequences.. and owning our unwise choices is not silly, or trite, but vital for our life and those we love around us.  We grow when we face our wrong decisions square in the face, and work it out with God’s ways accordingly.  One wrong decision doesn’t have to turn into a snowball of more, and more and more wrong decisions.  I did you wrong?  I need to face it, apologize and change my behavior.. But, when my ugly pride and me sits on that throne… I ignore the question of what is right (or talk myself into a solution that isn’t godly) and instead of making it right, I cling to the wrong one, justify it, and continue to walk serving someone other than God.

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I don’t know about you, but when I’m carrying my load wrong, I get tired. The absence of God in my decisions and thought processes makes me feel burdened, confused at times, and alone. But, the presence of God is my fullness of joy. And joy is my strength. See how that works out? “He will make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” (Psalm 16:11, ESV). He’s a good Father – He’s not going to keep the wise thing or the right thing a secret from you… seek Him today with your every question. 

And may our motivation for what we do be all about Him, through Him, and because of Him. 

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To A Wild Rose: Straight From the Heart of Joy

Today the series continues, and I’m beyond honored to have one of my heroes share with us.  She’s a ginger-snap that I like to call my little Toodles.  Joy is a giant-hearted person who continually shows me what true perseverance, courage, and faith look like.  Joy is the fourth in my lovely quintet of sisters. She graduated Cum Laude in 2015 from Stephen F Austin University with a Bachelor of Arts for Creative Writing.  Currently, she is a Masters Candidate in Creative Writing and a Teacher’s Assistant with the English Department at Arkansas State University.  I pray that this post reaches deep into your heart, as it did mine.  

Rings left by coffee, stains left by people

I almost always buy my clothes second-hand, coffee-stained sleeves and lipstick-stained collars, worn-down and fraying and faded and beautiful. I love the history that comes with an article of clothing that has been worn by a stranger: it could have gone hiking in the Smoky Mountains, could have soaked in the tingling, woody smoke of a campfire, could have spent days in bed cuddling a newborn, or drinking coffee and watching old movies. I love that things have histories. They do not begin and end with me and my personal joys or tragedies. The world spins, and I am only a small part, watching.

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Isn’t it amazing that the people we love live on beyond us? It is not as if, after we have lunch with a friend, they get in their car and immediately vanish from existence. They may disappear from our sight and our mind—but they are now in their own little world, experiencing their own little joys and tragedies. They are mysteries to us. We can speculate: are they eating lunch right now? Are they slathering mayonnaise on bread or making too-strong coffee with heaping teaspoons of sugar? Are they happy? But we never know, for certain. We are stuck in our own limelight. They have exited off stage and are in the dark of the wings.

Like most Americans, I am guilty of being very self-absorbed. I live in my own head, with ghosts of old words. In my life, I have been hurt by individuals who entered and exited. Their cruel words become a stain on my sleeve, their lies broke a button on my shirt. I repeat the thing they have done to me like a mantra: hurt, hurt, hurt. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I forget that they have exited off the stage, that they are living out their own mystery elsewhere, and I become obsessed with the way in which they have changed me.

As a woman, I have lived through a series of expectations. I passed through them like wandering through bewildering rooms in an old house. Sometimes I felt very lost. I was raised with the expectation that I would marry and have children, because per the culture, that was God’s plan for women. Guys I liked told me that they thought women should be modest and cover their legs, their breasts, their hair, but also stay in good shape so that they could be sexy. Men in churches told me that I should be submissive to authority figures and not argue or dispute ideas publicly. Teachers told me I had to try harder, because women still didn’t get the opportunities that men did unless they went above and beyond their male colleagues. Friends reminded me that I should major in a field suited to a woman: like teaching or nursing, because other jobs were too masculine.

But I didn’t want any of that: I wanted to be a leader, a shaker, a dreamer, a doer. I used to pray to be magically transformed into a man, because I thought men’s lives must be more exciting. For a few years I bound my breasts and wore boxy clothes to pretend I didn’t have a figure. I rejected every romantic intention of any guy that came near me; because I thought love meant submission to degradation, meant agreeing with my partner’s crazy thoughts, meant shutting up when I disagreed, meant taking abuse…out of love.

Looking back, I recognize myself as an intelligent, creative child who was just curious and excited about everything. So much got stifled by those well-intentioned comments to be more ladylike, to talk quieter, to dress feminine, to eat less and stay in shape, to find a husband, find a husband, find a husband.

Now I know better; I know as a woman I am just as whole and full of potential as a man. I believe in the adventures of being a woman. Yet I am guilty of letting these old comments stain my perspective on myself. Sometimes when I’m teaching I think, Wow, I sound bossy. Sometimes when I’m standing in front of the mirror I think, My teeth are so ugly and fang-like, so gross. I like rock music and science fiction (that’s not ladylike), I prefer other people to cook for me (I’ll never be a good wife).

Recently I found out, due to some issues, that it is almost impossible that I will ever be able to have children. My first thought was: I guess I’m not a real woman. But that thought was ugly and untrue, that thought was an old ghost of someone who told me, once upon a time, that the only reason I was born was to serve a man and have babies.

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And I know that thought is untrue because the women I love are doing amazing things. They are sometimes mothers and wives, yes, but they are also personal trainers and musicians, globe-trotters and activists, counselors and preachers, nurses and nannies, business-owners and orchestrators, singers and dancers, makers and creators, dreamers and soldiers, rockstars and fashionistas, bakers and brokers. I see them jogging in the morning. I see them at coffee shops, reading for pleasure. I see them wearing clothes that make them feel good. I see them building fences and chopping wood, plastering walls painting houses. I see them moving abroad to Italy or China. I see them fighting crime, speaking out, turning in their abusers, being so very loud and so very lovely.

And I am in awe of them.

I am in awe of you.

You are my mentors and heroes, you are why I tell the ghosts to shut up, and get off the stage. You are why I silence my fears that I’m bossy or unladylike or weird. You’re why I’ve learned to love being a woman again.

Because whatever unkind words have been spoken to you, whatever little rips and tears have been made to your soul, you wear yourself with grace and purpose when you live to be who you truly are. When you gamble on yourself, when you believe in your dreams. You are as beautiful as that dress, hanging in a thrift shop, that dress that has been danced in, twirled about. The dress that has seen the sun and rain both, that is worn in as soft as down, yet sturdy and durable. There are stains, yes, but they are beautiful because they tell me your story: you survived, you overcame, and you are still needed, yes, and desirable, unique in your history.

It’s hard to leave the old expectations behind, because they resurface quietly, they are still little wounds that are healing. Yet: “since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”

It is best to let the ghosts go.

We are surrounded by victors and achievers and those breathing heavy and dripping sweat because they are running ferociously down the path set out for them, they are living their true purpose. I would much rather listen to their voices, strained and panting though they may be. Wouldn’t you?

To A Wild Rose: Straight From the Heart of Joanna

Next up in our series, “To A Wild Rose,” I have the privilege of introducing you to my little sis, Joanna.  They say (who is they?) that dynamite comes in small packages, and that fits our Joanna.  She is small in form, yet has the biggest, strongest heart that you will find.  She currently works in child care caring for little ones; her hobbies include collecting silver-screen flicks, children’s books and movies, gardening, and she is currently a yellow-belt in karate.  Read on, I think you will be inspired by one of my heroes.  

What God Wants

I used to have a really bad habit of mentally bashing myself over the head. When I would feel bullied by other people, I would then bully myself even more. I would repeat the mean words they had said over and over in my head. I have come to realize that I was probably my biggest bully because other people might have lit the fire, but I was the one who poured gasoline on it. (I just want to stop here for a second and say if some is bullying you in any way don’t think that you can’t talk about it! Go to someone you trust, maybe a friend, a pastor or a counselor and tell them about it. I have learned that it’s ok to talk about things.)

I still have the problem of bullying myself from time to time. But, the difference is I used to think I deserved to be bullied, now I know I don’t. Don’t let someone bully you, and don’t bully yourself. I can tell you it’s not right. I like to remember the words of  Eleanor Roosevelt – “No one can make you feel inferior with out your consent.” If someone is verbally bullying you, you don’t have to listen to them. And you do not have to have the same thoughts about yourself. You choose who you are and what you think of yourself. I’m still learning to think positively about myself. I have came a long way through the encouragement of loving friends and family, and I would like to share with you a quote that I have grown to love.

“God wants us to be victors not victims; to grow not grovel; to soar not sink; to overcome not be overwhelmed.”  — William A. Ward

Ok, now I’m going to tell you when I first read this quote I liked it…. but, part of me did not like it. Because I had been so harsh on myself and always running myself down there was a part of me that felt judged by this quote. I knew I was doing the opposite of what this quote was saying that God wanted. I had spent so much time  beating myself over the head that I did not understand the way that God wanted me to be.  I also had a messed up view of God, and so I thought, “Wait does this mean that God is going to be upset with me for not being a victor?  For choosing to grovel at peoples feet? For allowing myself to sink down into sadness? For letting everything around me get me so overwhelmed??”

But, as I have grown to know God better I have actually learned just how much He loves me.  

God loves us so much that He Wants us to be victors. He Wants us to grow in Him. He Wants us to soar high in His happiness. He Wants us to overcome obstacles through HIM and HIS love.  He Loves Us and Truly Wants the Best For Us.  He is not sitting up in heaven going, “YOU better get this right.” He is up there saying, “You can do this and I’m going to help you if you’ll let me.”

I am learning to look at myself not how I see myself, but as God sees me.
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We can be victors. We can grow. We can soar. We can overcome through Christ and God’s love. But, you know there are a lot of days that I don’t just jump out of my bed and be like, “WOOHOOO I’M A VICTOR!”Some days I look up at God and I’m like, “God, I don’t feel like a victor today I’m struggling with some stuff.”  Soo, I was like hmmm I’m going to look up the meaning of the word VICTOR (a person who has overcome or defeated an adversary; conqueror / a winner in any struggle or contest)and  that made me start thinking… you must first run the race to win, or climb the mountain to stand on top.  We might be in the middle of a struggle, but we can get through it.

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Speaking of mountains, I was thinking, you know that kids song “the bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mountain, to see what he could see, and he saw another mountain, he saw another mountain….” Anyway, the point is this bear keeps climbing all these mountains, and every time he gets to the top there’s another mountain and I was thinking That’s Like Life!!! We are constantly going through something, or struggling with something.  These are our mountains and no matter how many mountains we climb there always seems to be another mountain. But, as long as we keep climbing we can make it to the top of our mountains, and when you stand on top of one of your mountains, even if your looking at another mountain right in front of you, you can stand at the top and say I am a victor! And, right now if you’re in the middle of  climbing one of your mountains, holding on to God’s hand, telling God “I’m tired I’m thirsty are we there yet?”….Just remember don’t give up and remember What God Wants For You.

God wants us to be victors not victims. To grow not grovel. To soar not sink. To overcome and not be overwhelmed.

To A Wild Rose: Straight From the Heart of Kristenn.

As I read each contribution from these lovely friends who have so graciously shared their stories with us for this “Wild Rose” series, I’m so inspired and in awe of the diversity God created in each one of us!  Today, meet Kristenn.  This is a joyful mom of three, loving wife, and an encouraging friend to many. She is a student of light.. through her hobby of photography and in a deeper way as she studies the Word.  Kristenn knows how to laugh at the days to come, because she knows who goes before her.

 

As you know, this is an installment in a series titled: To A Wild Rose.  My friend, Joani Burchett, challenged me to offer something on the subject of women, to encourage those who feel the hurts that this world throws our way.  I was blank for a while and then the following words came.  I do hope it is encouragement to you all, who feel anything but hopeful, and redeemed.

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Early one morning last year I was taking some time to study scripture, followed by prayer.  As I prayed an image flashed through my mind.  The best I can describe it is that it was impressed in my spirit and understanding.  It certainly wasn’t my own thought, and didn’t pertain in the least to what I was studying or praying about.
If this has ever happened to you, you recognize something unique about it.  It’s a quickly passing thought, unlike the norm, it’s clearly not your own, and it does not feel as though it came from your imagination.  I believe it’s God revealing.

 

The image was that of a young woman.  I could only see her back view from head to mid-thigh.  She was wearing a historic dress corset.  The corset was rapidly tightening down around her waist, and her blonde hair was growing just as quickly to cover it.
I immediately wrote it down because it was such a fleeting sight, I was sure I would forget it.  Without question, I understood the corset represented bondage.  As the months passed on and I would periodically think and pray about its meaning, I came to understand the hair growth was an effort to cover the bondage taking place.

Easy right!?  God wants me to know that people are in bondage.

Not so much.  He was beginning to show me myself.  As the year passed that message continued to unfold, and I would find myself in unplanned discussions, bible studies, meetings, and scripture readings that opened my eyes to the deceitful, hidden, bondage that sneaks in, and takes over.
How did I get there?  How do I get out?  Here’s hope, I do have a direction to share with you today.  I want to first say you are in good company, so many great women I personally know, and women of scripture, and women of faith have been victim to numerous types bondage.
Bondage comes upon us like weeds in a rose garden, wrapping itself so closely it almost appears to belong.  It is defined as the state of being a slave, in servitude, subjection, oppression, domination, exploitation, and persecution.  It comes to entangle a life with and without consent.  It comes in the form of harsh words, criticisms, violation, victimization, unwanted attention, regrets.  It sets up a camp in our emotions, and then it gets to determine our actions, and self-worth.  It’s relentless, and holds us captive.  Good news, scripture says, “Jesus came to take captivity, captive.”

Every moment you’ve ever lived, good or bad, has molded you. 

 

But we are to be clay in the Potter’s hands.  To often the enemy, and this world get its say in our mold.  Not what God desires for us!  In the words of Joani Burchett you are, “a wild rose, beautifully wrapped up each one individually with different layers of petals…variant sizes, hues, and even scents.”  I hope the following will help you embrace the layers but enjoy the change that all our life circumstances can ultimately bring, even the hard ones.

I’d like to lead off with some scriptural examples of this, straight out of the genealogical line up of Jesus Christ, the Messiah.  Unlike most Jewish, scriptural genealogies Matthew choose to list women in his.  He listed the generations from Abraham to Jesus, five women popped up in those verses detailed in Matthew, chapter one.  We see Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, and Mary.  I’m going to give you a PAINFULLY short description of their lives.  It’s really hard to shorten these women down to a few sentences but I’ll try.  The words you see in parentheses are the emotions I imagine likely fit their situation.
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Tamar was a two-time widow of brothers (sorrow/depression).  She was refused her cultural right to marry the last living of the brothers (cheated/fear/alone).  This left her with no inheritance, protection, provision, or children (desperate).  Tamar posed as a prostitute, and sold herself to her  father-in-law (shame).  She became pregnant, in return he hated her  (rejection).  He eventually accepts her as his wife, and they raise their son, Perez, who carried on the lineage of Christ (redeemed).  
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Rahab the harlot was a resident of Jericho (used/depressed/shame).  The scripture does not tell how she became to be a prostitute, but we do know she lived with her family and helped support them in this way (stuck/desperate).  Soon she was given a chance to help two Israelite spies hide for protection (fear).  She became a hero, and had a crucial role in the Israelites coming to the promised land.  She eventually married Salmon, an Israelite, and saved herself and her family from the lifestyle they were stuck in, and bore a son named Boaz to carry the lineage of Christ (redeemed).
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Ruth was a Moabitess who married an Israelite in her own country of Moab.  Moab is described as a sinful, despicable people who worshipped false gods (hopeless/deceived).  Ruth became widowed at a young age (sorrow/depression).  Her sister-in-law, and mother-in-law also become widowed.  Her mother-in-law decided to return to her homeland.  Ruth went with her, thus leaving behind her blood family, and all she had ever known (fear/vulnerable).  She soon found herself in a land where she was and outcast who was judged by her roots (depression/alone/animosity).  By bold, faithful, and relentless action she married Boaz, and they bore a son named Jesse to carry the lineage Christ (redeemed).
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Bathsheba seems to be known for her beauty (pride?), and adultery with King David (shame).  Adultery, coercion?  I’m not sure which it was, but I tend to see her as more a victim (used).  She became pregnant by David, which carried the death penalty due to being an act of adultery (fear).  Soon enough David arranged to have her husband murdered to cover the sin.  Bathsheba was a widow (sorrow/guilt).  David took Bathsheba in and she became one of his wives (jealousy/anger).  Their son died as an infant (sorrow).  She and David later bore another son, Solomon who would carry the lineage of Christ (redeemed).
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Mary, mother of Jesus, a 14-year-old girl faced with the ultimate honor and dilemma.  She was God’s choice to carry out a virgin birth of Jesus (shock/fear/confusion/denial).  I do write Mary’s emotions with a bit more hesitancy.  I can’t know what the understanding and knowledge she felt in the moment she learned that she was to be the mother of the Savior of the World.  She soon married Joseph (lineage of David).  He sought to protect her reputation, and the fall out that it would carry if it became known as a sexual scandal of  becoming pregnant out of marriage.  We know Mary wasn’t sinless, but scripture does leave her as a great example of faith and virtue. She would eventually see her Son punished, tortured, and killed for the sins of the world (I’m not sure there is a word in our vocabulary for this).  Prior to His death, Jesus entrusted her to the care of one of he beloved disciples (redeemed).
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Did you catch the words in bold?  Do you know some or all of them all to well?  Life sure has a way of slipping those things in on us.  If you’re like me, you carry plenty of scars from the past.  Plenty of baggage that became bondage that could have long since been left behind.  We unknowingly hold tightly to the handle of things that have been said and done to us, things that we clearly remember, things that are not so clear but came into our life and colored who we are and continually impact us, things we had a say in, things we didn’t!  Some of these things obviously make us who we are, some we carry around unaware.  Some of these things we stuff deep down, and never discuss.  This my friend, is bondage.  Just as easily as a rose may fall prey to the bonds of overpowering weeds, we too fall prey to the bonds of life’s challenges.  As I said you are in good company.  The women who stood in the very lineage of Jesus, faced these things head on.
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But God, always had a plan and a way for redemption.  He holds the “spiritual garden shears”.  He wishes to see us all free and redeemed.  It comes at a cost to you though.  It will cost you the relinquishing of your control, it will cost you putting your trust in the One who knows best, it will cost your time, and maybe your pride. 
But the benefit….will be that of a rose, brightly bloomed, every bit as vulnerable as it is strong, growing in a garden, trusting the Gardener to meet its every need.
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*Lineage of Grace, a book by Francine Rivers, is a wonderful resource to get a picture of what the lives of these women were like.  Francine gives her insight based on what she knows from scripture and from the historical times.

 

To A Wild Rose: Straight from the Heart of Alicia

Hello Everyone, here’s our next post in the Wild Rose series.  I’m so grateful for all the brave ladies stepping up and sharing their stories with us!  Fresh perspective.  Today, I want you to meet my pal Alicia.  She is among my passionate, fervent, beautiful friends who is a loving mom, a wife crazy in love with her hubby, and shares her gift to many as a sonographer who introduces mommies and daddies to their little ones every day.  🙂  You’ll see clearly the heart of one that knows the deep love of God as you read her words below.  

In the beginning, I wouldn’t even call myself a wild rose, but a type of crazy weed.

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Why? Because that is how I felt. As a child, I watched my home as I got older to be a place of violent arguing, physical abuse, emotional abuse, mental abuse, and a sad view of what love means. I watched my mom first make sure I was okay in the moment of it all, but my eyes still saw it all, stored it in my mind, and it became normal in those eyes. My parents were doing the best with what they had been shown when they were just children. I know my parents loved me then, and they continue to show me that love today. I can always hear my mom say, “Alicia, I want better than what I had growing up and I don’t want you to make the same mistakes as I did.” Oh, how I look up to my mom for what she went through! She is not just a blade of grass as I know she must have felt like, but she is a strong, beautiful rose. I watched my mom cry, become angry at it all, but also have to be happy and there for me. I watched my dad leave over and over again. I didn’t realize how this would affect me later on in my relationships though until several years ago.

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In Jr. High I can remember being lost in who I was as a person. This is the time I began to try to find myself. I was saved as a young child, but I gravitated slowly away from what I knew was right and chose to disobey my mother in things that were not who I was. My sophomore year I was so convicted of things and wanted to be on “track.” I began to date who I thought would be “the one” (he will be mentioned throughout as this) for the rest of my life. This all started great, but throughout our relationship things are now apparent to have been so unhealthy. Things like arguing, pushing away, typical neediness on my part, typical boy stuff on his part, and typical “high school relationship” things became normal throughout the years. All I wanted was to be loved. While I felt loved by one, I also found it in someone who would be disapproved by anyone else at the same time. I thought I found that in a man twice my age. I would be given gifts of whatever I wanted, loved like I wanted, and was treated much older than I was. I was made to feel good in all of the ways we want to be felt. I was beautiful, sexy, and all of the things we want to be all while also being made to feel beneath him, controlled, and trapped. My life consisted of keeping him happy all while I was drowning in feelings of being good enough, pretty enough, where he wanted me, etc. For about 2 years (it’s hard to remember) I kept this relationship hidden deep in my heart. “The one” and I broke up due to typical high school things and my other relationship with “the other man” also ended around this time and I dated 5-6 different guys in a matter of probably 6 months. I became what would seem obsessed with some and then in a matter of time I was back with “the one.” During this time I had fallen so deep into a love again with him, but I still had a lie hidden. I needed to tell him about “the relationship” with his stepfather. Yes, you are reading this right. God soon convicted me one morning in February of 2010 to delete all social media connected to the world and tell him the truth. This would break my heart, but I knew it was for the best.

That started the beginning of a very long, but so rewarding journey in my life. Light was shed on something that needed to be shown.

Tucker, my husband now, was my best guy friend at the time of all of this and I had to at some point tell him what was happening. His reply was simply, “Okay.” There wasn’t a hesitation in his voice that would indicate losing him also as my friend. Months later we began as boyfriend/girlfriend as I was convinced by many that he loved me and that love was so obvious. The end of my senior year in high school ended with no friends except for a few which includes Tucker and my freshman year in college began with such tragedy and sadness that I would be convinced to file against “the other man.” A statement was written to him to be read in court about forgiveness. I chose to put that behind me and move forward although it was so hard to forget. During the beginning of mine and Tucker’s relationship I held onto some of my old ways including arguing, belittling, etc. The closer I got back to Christ and the more I prayed the easier it became to let go of these ways. Oh, but God works in mysterious ways because while my parents separated he knew to bring me another dad who would love me like I was his child. I was also given a stepmother who would not only love me the same as her two girls, but would show my dad the patience and love that he has longed to feel. I tell you all of this so you can see the death and growth of the “wild rose” writing this. I was shown and chose all that I knew and seen.

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All I wanted was love! Isn’t that what we all want?

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It took me all of this tragedy above to see what true love was and that was in Christ first. I now look back and have some grief over my childhood self. I can see myself crying out for water like growing flowers do and my heart breaks, but thankfully I have been saved by the ultimate gardener, God. My challenge to you as parents is to really observe things our children see daily in us. They are like sponges absorbing it all and one day will live according to how they were taught as just tiny seeds. You are raising future “wild roses.” Show them how to bloom and love like Christ.