Loosed Woman

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Tried and Tested

Posted by [email protected] on July 31, 2014 at 4:00 PM Comments comments (0)

I mentioned when coming to YHWH in Messiah, He healed my mind. I'll discuss more of that as we go, but for now, I have to address how I almost lost my healing. Rather, I should say, almost gave up my healing. Life got very, very painful between 2007 and 2012. I continued to function, but crafted myself a pseudonym for a blog that wasn't private, but separate from my "already respected work" on the web. Life was so painful, I found myself fearing my mind would fragment again or simply shatter. YHWH is good! He held me together in the mind of Messiah. I "stayed together" but was sadly aware of the entire bleakness and rejection. It was a test, and I remember the day I heard, the test was over.


The pseudonym afforded me a venting avenue, as well as being able to read it and remain aware, that it was indeed my life. For that five years, life was just intensely painful to the point of grievous. Even with the Comforter, I couldn't let go of the pain. It would subside for awhile, and then overtake me like a flood. When I wrote this in May of 2013, the test had ended 7 months earlier, but the horrific grief lingered. I was giving great consideration to telling my truth in novel form, but as I've mentioned, there was no peace in that. So it sat for a year in my "secret blog" under the pseudonym, but no more entries were added. I knew the truth. I didn't have any of the old blank spaces, but it really felt good to view my life as an outsider . . . just for a few moments. That was when I realized I was a cross roads. If I continued to write under the pseudonym it would be like putting my hand to the plow and looking back. The pain would remain and the confusion of dissociation could very well return, or I could share the truth and proclaim what healing I've been given. This website has made it official! I have let go of the pain to move forward in the plan by the author and finisher of my faith and share the life in which I've been blessed.

 

The following is that final entry.

 

There is a woman who is the religious type and considerably outside of mainstream. She's not a Bible thumper, per se, but she doesn't let anyone talk her out of what she knows. Her statement is simple. She says, "she doesn't know it all, but she personally knows the One Who does."

 

This woman is living a fairly respectable life, as life in America goes. She took her walk on the wild side in her late teens and rocked that downward spiral until her early 30's but in her words, had an encounter with G-d that changed everything. The direction of her life literally changed overnight. She wasn't a big partier, just trying and failing at mainstream, constantly, with a serious emotional disadvantage, and what she calls, "walking outside the favor of G-d." She believes in keeping the personal laws of the Hebrew Scriptures, but believes in Messiah also. She believes that He was the final sacrifice, so she makes no animal sacrifices and she believes America is a continuation of ancient Rome . . .

 

She's been walking this path, serving the G-d of Israel, for as many years as she spent on the wrong path as an adult. Not only does she believe life is spiritually based, but she's practical as well. She pays her taxes, doesn't have any outstanding traffic tickets or overdue library books. She's written a cookbook, a few religious books, blogs incessantly and has established a simplistic lifestyle of homesteading. She maintains several domains and has a soap and natural health product business. What a renegade? But enough about her, she's not the point of my blog. It's watching her circle of influence that blows my mind.

 

She prays regularly for a sister who is in prison for child abuse while the inference has been made by her parents that her potential inheritance would reflect their disappointment. Her disdain for child abuse was perceived as a lack of loyalty toward her sister in her time of need. She did, however; write a letter to her sister's attorney offering help, trying to direct them in the path that she had heard in prayer. When the trouble first began, she even gave a word as to the outcome if they didn't change the direction. She even mentioned a couple of things she couldn't have known, without being told from On High. Considering these factors, she still weeps for her sister, prays for her safety in prison, and that she would come to repentance. Now that her parents are speaking to her again, she continues to honor her parents as best she knows how, sending cards and making phone calls . . .

 

Now, here's the next wild thing I've seen. Her husband has no regard for her, unless someone important to her is watching, or he can manipulate the circumstances to make her appear cold and uncaring. He refuses to participate in her interests, but invades and hovers in her relationships. He rejected her on their honeymoon, but refused to divorce her. She's come to accept that. She said she didn't accept it willingly at first, but when he became disabled, she simply took care of him and accepted the fact that there would never be a divorce.

 

She now says she's grateful for the circumstances. She prepares his meals, washes his clothes, and goes on with her priorities. She says she's come to a fuller understanding of I Corinthians 7 and she's stopped demanding that he observe and fulfill Deuteronomy 24. She admits she used to just cry and beg that he honor that passage by giving her a divorce. She's actually stated that being alone is preferable to being in the wrong relationship and his indifferent rejection is as close as she can get to being single, now. So here's this little cocky, belligerent, arrogant man who has grown a beard and will argue with anyone against Christmas trees and bacon, now disabled. He has openly told her, as has his mother, that he's not interested in her nor does he share the same beliefs. Since he isn't interested in celebrating any Holy Days, she is virtually isolated from fellowship.

 

Her situation with her daughter is heartbreaking. People tried to tell her years ago what a problem that daughter was, but oh no, she wouldn't listen. She fiercely defended that child's right to be "herself." Her method of motherhood was in direct opposition to her own upbringing. She simply states now, it was just not part of G-d's plan for her to be a mother at that time. She failed miserably and there's proof to that. Her daughter now hates that too, but, here's the latest. After calling her late last Sunday afternoon to wish her a Happy Mother's Day and tell her mother all the lovely gifts she'd received, without sending so much as a card to her own mother, another call came Tuesday.

 

The daughter, middle-aged, divorced and now remarried for less than a year. The daughter whose ex-husband has custody of their child. The one who left her mother's homestead screeching profanities and the most vile of degradation, in a completely outrageous act of anger and stupidity called to ask if there is anything in the Bible against being a dominatrix mistress. This woman brings exaggerated definition to the word, mockery and possibly a whole new definition to mixing holy with profane. Her mother acknowledges her failure, but can do nothing more. She simply asked her if she knew Y'hshuwah was coming to dinner would she serve pork chops? The daughter replied, "No absolutely not." Then the mother asked, if she would invite Y'hshuwah to this potential new career site . . . to which the daughter replied, "Oh yes, I'd be completely comfortable with that." The call ended with a tearful, "I love you" and she went and took a shower . . .

 

_____

Somehow in writing this in third person, I was able to read it and realize, acceptance by my "circle of influence" would be much more grievous than the rejection I had experienced. Surviving the rejection of these people has certainly helped prepare me for the rejection we will face as the world embraces evil. My mental healing has been tried and tested! Knowing Messiah has held me through these tests of rejection and The Comforter has sustained me, the rejection of mainstream strangers doesn't seem so overwhelming.

Damaged Goods

Posted by [email protected] on July 27, 2014 at 10:55 PM Comments comments (0)

This blog has been a real struggle for me. I know Abba would not lead me to do anything that is against His Word, so I’ve pondered and prayed as to how to be honest in this blog, yet not dishonor my parents. I know children can be born with physical problems, as well as some developmental delay mentally, but babies are for the most part an emotional blank slate. I suppose it’s possible for an unborn child to be verbally abused in the womb, but except in the case of multiple births, the womb is a pretty non-interactive site, as human relationships go. I once had a Sunday School teacher who claimed I was born under a spirit of rejection. I can’t argue that . . .

 

Now that babies are born in hospitals, I’m sure there are spiritual and emotional impacts and impressions made upon their lives immediately. Interestingly, hospital births and child psychology came into existence at about the same time. So to say a baby is an emotional blank slate who develops normally or with problems is not necessarily to say the parents caused it. In this case, I am simply going to be honest, as honest as I can be. My parents were still children themselves when I was born, but trying desperately to prove they were adults. They seemed to think the best way to prove that was through a high performance child. I was a very quiet, introverted, creative child, who completely feared my parents, but desperately wanted to please them. I spent most of my childhood simply not wanting to be seen.

 

Before I was four, I knew I was chubby, I was a klutz, but I was athletic, or at least interested in sports. I could swim, put a spin on a football, and loved the neighborhood scrub softball games, not to mention rope climbing, it was then announced that I needed to learn how to be ladylike. I was too “big of a girl” to be a tomboy, so obviously, attention was the last thing I wanted. On top of that news, right before I turned four, my Grandpa died and my world fell apart. Grandpa had been my “safe place.” After his death, I clung to Aunt Bonnie every chance I got, but at four, I couldn’t articulate why I threw myself down in front of the door, and hung on to her legs to prevent her from leaving.

 

By the age of three, I could already write the alphabet and my name, as well as the baby names my parents were considering for my soon to arrive sibling, but that was all expected. I was tying a bow before the age of three, so I was clearly trying to please. My sister arrived before Grandpa died and I wanted to help, but my mother was sure her three year old was jealous of the new baby, so I was put in my place . . . Years later, hearing stories from her younger sisters, I realize it may have been her own personal projection. To this day, I never did figure out how to be a good big sister.

 

Before I went to school, I could read and tell time, but I was still a chubby klutz that didn't know how to sit like a lady or use the proper hand to get a drink through dinner. I was also left-handed, which seemed to be just one more disappointing fact about me. I was really nervous about going to school. I already had an inferiority complex about my size and skin tone, I had no idea how strange my personalit(ies) appeared.

 

I’m truly thankful I grew up in the time I did. I had a great deal of difficulty finding a place I belonged. Considering today’s culture, some agenda would have had me in the sites. Sadly, after my Grandpa died, a great part of the rest of my childhood was spent looking forward to being grown up. By the age of 12, I was looking forward to being 40. Forty, by the way, was fabulous! By the time I was forty, my mind had been healed and I was simply content where I was . . . Seeing all of life at once took some adjusting, but Messiah did indeed send the Comforter.

 

I’ve mentioned previously, the fact that I just wanted to be invisible. I still struggle, at times, preferring to just fade into the background or go basically unnoticed. That isn’t part of Abba’s plan for my life. I simply do not go unnoticed, anywhere. I’m not stunningly beautiful, and certainly not sophisticated or statuesque, but I still draw comments every place I go. Thankfully, most of the comments are kind words. Harsh comments are by and large in regard to my beliefs, or exclusively from family. Although I am grieved, I am not taken down by them.

 

Damaged Goods

Posted by [email protected] on July 27, 2014 at 10:55 PM Comments comments (0)

This blog has been a real struggle for me. I know Abba would not lead me to do anything that is against His Word, so I’ve pondered and prayed as to how to be honest in this blog, yet not dishonor my parents. I know children can be born with physical problems, as well as some developmental delay mentally, but babies are for the most part an emotional blank slate. I suppose it’s possible for an unborn child to be verbally abused in the womb, but except in the case of multiple births, the womb is a pretty non-interactive site, as human relationships go. I once had a Sunday School teacher who claimed I was born under a spirit of rejection. I can’t argue that . . .

 

Now that babies are born in hospitals, I’m sure there are spiritual and emotional impacts and impressions made upon their lives immediately. Interestingly, hospital births and child psychology came into existence at about the same time. So to say a baby is an emotional blank slate who develops normally or with problems is not necessarily to say the parents caused it. In this case, I am simply going to be honest, as honest as I can be. My parents were still children themselves when I was born, but trying desperately to prove they were adults. They seemed to think the best way to prove that was through a high performance child. I was a very quiet, introverted, creative child, who completely feared my parents, but desperately wanted to please them. I spent most of my childhood simply not wanting to be seen.

 

Before I was four, I knew I was chubby, I was a klutz, but I was athletic, or at least interested in sports. I could swim, put a spin on a football, and loved the neighborhood scrub softball games, not to mention rope climbing, it was then announced that I needed to learn how to be ladylike. I was too “big of a girl” to be a tomboy, so obviously, attention was the last thing I wanted. On top of that news, right before I turned four, my Grandpa died and my world fell apart. Grandpa had been my “safe place.” After his death, I clung to Aunt Bonnie every chance I got, but at four, I couldn’t articulate why I threw myself down in front of the door, and hung on to her legs to prevent her from leaving.

 

By the age of three, I could already write the alphabet and my name, as well as the baby names my parents were considering for my soon to arrive sibling, but that was all expected. I was tying a bow before the age of three, so I was clearly trying to please. My sister arrived before Grandpa died and I wanted to help, but my mother was sure her three year old was jealous of the new baby, so I was put in my place . . . Years later, hearing stories from her younger sisters, I realize it may have been her own personal projection. To this day, I never did figure out how to be a good big sister.

 

Before I went to school, I could read and tell time, but I was still a chubby klutz that didn't know how to sit like a lady or use the proper hand to get a drink through dinner. I was also left-handed, which seemed to be just one more disappointing fact about me. I was really nervous about going to school. I already had an inferiority complex about my size and skin tone, I had no idea how strange my personalit(ies) appeared.

 

I’m truly thankful I grew up in the time I did. I had a great deal of difficulty finding a place I belonged. Considering today’s culture, some agenda would have had me in the sites. Sadly, after my Grandpa died, a great part of the rest of my childhood was spent looking forward to being grown up. By the age of 12, I was looking forward to being 40. Forty, by the way, was fabulous! By the time I was forty, my mind had been healed and I was simply content where I was . . . Seeing all of life at once took some adjusting, but Messiah did indeed send the Comforter.

 

I’ve mentioned previously, the fact that I just wanted to be invisible. I still struggle, at times, preferring to just fade into the background or go basically unnoticed. That isn’t part of Abba’s plan for my life. I simply do not go unnoticed, anywhere. I’m not stunningly beautiful, and certainly not sophisticated or statuesque, but I still draw comments every place I go. Thankfully, most of the comments are kind words. Harsh comments are by and large in regard to my beliefs, or exclusively from family. Although I am grieved, I am not taken down by them.

 

Failing By Four

Posted by [email protected] on July 21, 2014 at 11:05 AM Comments comments (0)

After mentioning Bryan Duncan and posting links I thought I better follow up and make sure I had not created any copyright issues . . . I hadn’t, but I came across an interesting interview he’d given in which he spoke of taking his eyes off of Messiah and wanting all eyes upon him. Here the song that so motivated me to not hide, was one he’d written as a reminder to himself that it wasn’t about him. Interesting how we can be touched deeply but from opposite perspectives. I spent most of my life not wanting anyone to look at me.

 

Before I was four, I knew I was chubby, I was a clutz, but I was athletic, or at least interested in sports. I could swim, put a spin on a football, and loved the neighborhood scrub softball games, not to mention rope climbing. So, as I was enjoying that sort of thing, it was then announced that I needed to learn how to be ladylike. I was too “big of a girl” to be a tomboy. On top of that news, right before I turned four, my Grandpa died and my world fell apart. Grandpa had been my “safe place.” I clung to Aunt Bonnie every chance I got, but at four, I couldn’t articulate why I threw myself down in front of the door, and hung on to her legs to prevent her from leaving.

 

By the age of three, I could already write the alphabet and my name, as well as the baby names my parents were considering for my soon to arrive sibling, but that was all expected. I was tying a bow before the age of three, so I was clearly trying to please. My sister arrived before Grandpa died and I wanted to help, but my mother was sure her three year old was jealous of the new baby, so I was put in my place . . . Years later, hearing stories from her younger sisters, I realize it may have been her own personal projection. To this day, I never did figure out how to be a good big sister.

 

Before I went to school, I could read and tell time, but I was still a chubby clutz that didn't know how to sit like a lady or use the proper hand to get a drink through dinner. I was also left-handed, which seemed to be just one more disappointing fact about me. I was really nervous about going to school. I already had an inferiority complex about my size and skin tone, I had no idea how strange my personalit(ies) appeared.

 

I’m truly thankful I grew up in the time I did. I had a great deal of difficulty finding a place I belonged. Considering today’s culture, some agenda would have had me in the sites. Sadly, after my Grandpa died, a great part of the rest of my childhood was spent looking forward to being grown up. By the age of 12, I was looking forward to being 40. Forty, by the way, was fabulous! By the time I was forty, my mind had been healed and I was simply content where I was . . . Seeing all of life at once took some adjusting, but Messiah did indeed send the Comforter.

 

I’ve mentioned previously, the fact that I just wanted to be invisible. I still struggle, at times, preferring to just fade into the background or go basically unnoticed. That isn’t part of Abba’s plan for my life. I simply do not go unnoticed, anywhere. I’m not stunningly beautiful, and certainly not sophisticated or statuesque, but I still draw comments every place I go. Thankfully, most of the comments are kind words. Harsh comments are by and large regarding my beliefs, so although I am grieved, I am not taken down by them.

 

I still struggle with receiving attention, but it’s not out of fear, or now even a lack of confidence, I just don’t have a great deal of experience. The last time I spoke in a gathering of a crowd I knew, there was building construction underway and the podium had been removed from the bema. I simply stated to the crowd, that I was a bit nervous, as I was used to being able to “hide” behind the podium while speaking, and clearly the music stand was not wide enough to conceal me. There was laughter, and the evening unfolded beautifully. I spoke on the subject of talents. I love encourage others in using their G-d given talents. In this world, often, creative people do not walk to the social norms, and end up labeled with a mental health disorder. I know otherwise . . . Our Creator has a better plan.

 

So Afraid

Posted by [email protected] on July 13, 2014 at 12:55 AM Comments comments (0)

I was speaking on the phone the other day, to a friend, who is such a precious encourager. She used a term to describe me that still causes me to well up in tears of gratitude. She said my “stability” was such a blessing. Me, stable? Yes, me, stable! I told her that was absolutely YHWH. Before Messiah touched me, stable would be about the last word anyone would use to describe me. Since that conversation, an old song that hit the Christian charts about 15 years ago, has been “playing” over in my mind and heart. It was entitled, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4mdfDqEhBaU" target="_blank" rel="nofollow">“Strollin' on the Water.”

This was one of the first contemporary songs that touched me, I mean touched me to the core. I wept every time I heard it, still often do. In one place, Bryan Duncan sounds nearly breathless as he sings the words “so afraid.” Before I was made whole, music didn't touch me. Oh, I had favorite songs along the way, and of course a few favorite artists. I sang along with the radio and loved to go dancing, but it was only superficial and “what everyone else seemed to enjoy.” There had been a couple of spiritual songs way back in my younger days, that now bring a remembrance, but those were reintroduced after following Messiah. I've since read that music touches all of our emotions, simultaneously, but I was so emotionally fractured, that simply wasn't possible. When I was made whole, music took on new meaning in my life. It touched me deeply. I had no idea what I’d been missing! Back to “so afraid.”

 


The reason for coming to the internet was to share my testimony of mental healing. That was my purpose for buying a computer and going online, but . . . that was back in the days of screen IDs and yahoo groups. I would have never guessed, in a million years, that I'd have an illustration of the actual place I live, my real name and photo next to books, and actually host visitors in person that I'd met through social media. I had no idea, the internet outreach would become so personal . . . so when Abba said, it's time for details in your personal testimony, I was “so afraid.” I have seen, even those in the mental health field, especially those in the mental health field; don't believe anyone is ever actually healed. I even told Abba, in fear and trembling, “but I finally have a reputation of integrity.” His response was succinct, “That's why the time is; now.”

 

I read the lyrics; listened again to the song, and even watched Bryan's video. My testimony isn't about me, it's about what our Heavenly Father can do! My testimony is about what happens to a person, when Messiah touches them. Everything in my life has been bringing me to this place for such a time as this. At this point in history, when the powers that be have a mental dis-health label ready for everyone, I know that I know, psychology is not the answer and pharmaceuticals are not the answer. Y'hshuwah Messiah is the answer!

 

Centered

Posted by [email protected] on July 8, 2014 at 11:15 AM Comments comments (0)

When I saw Messiah's question in John 5:6, "Wilt thou be made whole?"  I knew, at some point, I'd author a book bearing that title.  There were many years between that "knowing" and the accomplishment.  When my mind was made whole, instantly, there were many shards and rough edges that still didn't "fit."  I knew they were there and they were no part of my future, but they were part of my past; and it would take maturity and surrender to The Great Spirit of our Holy Elohim to incorporate those parts as well.  I was forgiven, I'd forgiven others, and my past has no power over me, but it is part of my testimony.  It's how I am able to bear witness as to what our Savior can do!

 

As I sit here writing this, I'm enjoying a cool southern breeze in the window, listening to the rain gently tapping on the sky light in the kitchen, and thinking of all the other things on my "to do" list today.  I'm so grateful to be able to do that.  Before being made whole, I had never experienced that.  Whatever I was doing, that was my entire awareness, with the exception of motherhood.  Regardless of my broken awareness, I always knew there were children that came first, and that's how the idolatry began.  I, literally, centered on making childhood, safe, fun, and easy for my child, step-children of various marriages, and ultimately when I adopted.   Every facet of my being, every alter, every personality; knew there was a responsibility for children and was determined to protect them.  It's not an easy thing to express, and far from a good way to live, but it's where I was until the age of 36.  I like to think if I'd known about receiving the Holy Spirit as a young person, I would have centered on Messiah, rather than motherhood.

A few years ago, one of my Granddaughters asked me if I loved her more than I loved G-d.  I told her I loved my grandchildren more than anyone on earth.  Her next comment indicated that she felt I'd side-stepped her question, so we chatted as we did chores.  She asked me, point blank, if I loved G-d more than I loved her.  I confessed directly that although I loved her, her siblings, and her cousins more than anyone or anything on earth, I did love G-d more.  It was the most precious opportunity to explain about how much G-d loved us in giving, His Son, Y'hshuwah.  It was that same granddaughter several years later that overheard her mother screeching at me, who told me, she would never speak to anyone the way her mom spoke to me.  I, of course, told her how happy I was to hear that.  

Her statement struck that old chord of remembrance in my heart.  Suddenly, I received insight regarding the horrible relationship of 18 years.  My former "god" has made it very clear, through the years that she was displeased with being dethroned.  Through the years, I'd refused to compromise my beliefs, but did accept the doormat treatment to see my grandchildren.  One of those social teachings, I'd apparently misunderstood through her childhood, when hearing, "children come first," "first in a mother's heart," I'd taken it literally.  It suddenly made so much sense, although sad, as to why our relationship had deteriorated through her adult years.  She was no longer the center of my world.  I had placed my child above the Creator of the universe and in doing so, failed her greatly.  Abba forgave me when I repented from my idolatry. Sadly, my daughter has yet to forgive me, for that repentance.

Writing

Posted by [email protected] on June 24, 2014 at 5:55 PM Comments comments (0)

As I write this post, I'm so thankful for something today that I hadn't really ever considered. As one of the contributors and I exchanged information and chatted about the publication of the Goshen Gazette, the number of blogs I maintain for articles and guests came up. I jokingly referred to myself as “the Sybil of the internet.” That was the night before this site was officially linked to the weekly publication. When I'm testing the waters, I tend to package the truth in a short bit of wit, or at least make the attempt. As it turns out, that little reference has brought a real reminder to me.

                                                                                           

 

I maintain eighteen active blogs with several others for guests and extras, and own seven websites. I also keep three spiral notebooks perpetually in use and two others, a small one in my purse, and one by my bed for random notation. As for the perpetual spirals, One is my general list of daily plans and thoughts that come to me through the course of my day here on the homestead. One spiral is specifically for the Goshen Gazette, and the other is for business. All of this may sound like a lot, but spread over 6 days, it's simply what I'm called to do. In cleaning the little things last week, I'm now determined to become disciplined enough to stop using little scraps of paper everywhere and utilize one of my five options, instead.


Why am I boring you with these details? Please let me share. Several years ago, in deep house-cleaning [throwing out the reminders] after a divorce, I began coming across spiral notebooks that contained different penmanship and perspectives, and none of them were my ex-husband's handwriting. I had a young daughter, but I was the only adult in the house at the time. I was involved in a “battered women's support group” as my recent divorce had ended an abusive marriage. I shared just a bit of the information with the group facilitator who maintained her cool, but it was clear to see, her wheels were turning. She asked me if I'd ever been in counseling or seen a psychiatrist. I then relayed some information from my childhood. The professional recommendations were then, forthcoming. I’d known for years I struggled with awareness, but I hadn’t realized what it actually meant.

 

Since we'd discussed briefly my previous counseling, I decided to see if I could speak with the psychiatrist who had been in charge of my case as a kid. Sure enough, he was now in private practice, but remembered me. In our short conversation, he shared that although the circumstances had not aimed toward a diagnosis at the time, there was strong evidence of dissociation in the tests I'd taken. He specifically mentioned remembering some answers seemed like those of a very young child, while other answers seemed to come from a mature woman well beyond my years. He recommended a specialist in the field of dissociation identity disorder or as it was referred, multiple personality disorder.

 

From what I read of those first journals, my broken mind was trying to make sense of the confusion and pain. One of the journals rang of self-deprecating humor, another of making childhood good, still another of man handling . . . or how to avoid being handled.  Through years of secular counseling I wrote to keep track of life and try to connect my existence.  Now I write to publish the Good News and share what G-d can do. 


I am so humbled and thankful that even before I had full awareness, Abba had full awareness of me. Long before I could even imagine the mind of Messiah, I was on His mind. Today, I am so thankful to be blessed with many notes, blogs, and journals, but now; by the grace of G-d, I am aware of them all!

 

Like A Flood

Posted by [email protected] on June 22, 2014 at 12:25 AM Comments comments (0)

A video I viewed this week deeply touched me spiritually.  A friend and colleague posted a https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uE5lenbWquo" target="_blank" rel="nofollow">5 minute video that contains intense details.  I was so young when I learned to swim, I don't remember not knowing how, so water doesn't usually intimidate me; but this was another matter.  A gentle stream had become a raging river of torrential flood waters.  In that short video, he brought the viewers to a close up of a whirlpool, of furious over flow, of water breaking though under the infrastructure, and a deluge spilling over the road creating an ominous waterfall.  The volume of water seemed immeasurable.  He captured footage of potential peril and out and out danger.  In that five minutes, I saw my emotional history.  So many things in my life used to sweep away my hope and peace and eroded my awareness between situations and incidents.  
  

When I came to the internet, I knew it was to be a witness unto Y'hshuwah.  The first website I assembled, addressed health from an exclusively spiritual perspective, which I've now incorporated into the larger, fuller website addressing many aspects of The Way of Life.   There were many willing volunteers who helped with that early outreach plan, back in 2001, and it has grown, but in the growth, I kind of relegated the mental health testimony to a back page of the website.  That is now changing.  In my salvation and healing, not only did I hear, "Go and sin no more," but I've now also heard, "Share what I've done."

Although my mind was miraculously healed, I simply didn't know how to function as an "whole" human being.  I wasn't used to expressing vulnerabiliy outwardly.   Rather than hiding in Him, I didn't realize it; but I was often times hiding behind stoicism words about Him.  I wasn't trying to be dishonest, I honestly didn't know how to be emotionally trasparent.  I was well aware all those years of taking a Bible Study into a state facility, but for the grace of G-d; that's where I could have been.  That's why I went!  I wanted those people to have what I had been given.  I wanted those kids to be spared the mistakes I made as a mentally unstable young adult.  I now realize with operation vigilant eagle in place, I still could end up in some sort of facility, many of us could; but this time it will be because of my awareness, not lack of it!
 

When I came into covenant with YHWH in Messiah, I had no idea what normal thinking or connected functioning was like.  We are promised the mind of Messiah, but I had no idea how to live life with connected awareness and to express emotion.  Dissociative Identity Disorder or MPD as it used to be labeled, in a nushell, amounts to a mental disconnection of awareness and emotional reaction, when frightened or threatened. It's the adrenaline fight or flight on sterroids. We know our brain basically functions from different parts for various accomplishments. For example, the part of the brain that is used for language is not the same as the one used for math, or athletics. That's basically why many that excel in one area, have difficulty in others, and some are simply average in several.  

The idea was planted very early, when I was "disciplined," that if my grandparents found out, they would be very disappointed in me . . . My grandparents were awesome, I certainly didn't want them to be disappointed in me. I was also taught at a very young age that it was rude and inappropriate to discuss what went on at home, publicly. So, young and trusting or fearful as I was, I figured the rest of the world operated that way too.  Early in my life, although I tried to please, when I failed, the fight or flight kicked in, but only that part of my brain took "flight" while my body remained in the circumstances . . .

The first experience I remember, in praying from my heart, came before the age of four. I knew the standard children's meal time prayers and bedtime prayer, but I remember clearly, my first spontaneous prayer from the heart. One of my grandparents had given me a little wooden painted plaque that hung above my bed. In my mind's eye, the image is still clear. There was a white kitten, a pink flower, with a butterfly just touching a petal, and a portion of a Scripture.

. . . for God is love. I John 4:8

 As I laid there beside my bed, nestled in the "hammock" that was created between the wall and the mattress, by tucking the top sheet under the mattress, I offered an audible prayer from my heart. As I look at that plaque, in my nearly four year old "wisdom," I asked our Heavenly Father to please make me invisible.  Our Heavenly Father kept me through those stormy years of childhood, through the whirlpools, waterfalls, and torrents, until I came to a place of fearing Him more than I feared man.

So shall they fear the name of YHWH from the west, and his glory from the rising of the sun. When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of YHWH shall lift up a standard against him.  Isaiah 59:19


Rejection

Posted by [email protected] on June 17, 2014 at 4:55 PM Comments comments (0)

When I was "found" [saved, repented, entered covenant] and my mind healed, it wasn't long before I realized I had a rejection issue; or rather a fear of rejection issue.  As I prayed about this, I heard YHWH already knew and He was going to change that.  I'll be honest here, I really misunderstood what He was saying.  I truly thought rejection was going be a thing of the past.  In my spiritual immaturity and zeal, I really did believe I'd be well received by the church.  I also foolishly thought family would be happy to see the returning prodigal.  As you've probably guessed, neither of those things happened.  Actually, quite to the contrary.


The church was not thrilled about my call and family wasn't open to changing the dynamics of our interaction.  The church had their tradition and although everyone likes to talk about "walking on water," rocking the boat is out of the question.  When I first realized that, I thought to myself, of the disciples in that ship on the troubled waters.  When Peter heard Messiah's call, don't you think he rocked that boat getting out and onto the water?  I've wondered through the years if any of the other disciples said anything to him, as he was "stepping out."  

I realized before Abba would use me in my call, I needed to make peace with the family, or at least do what I could.  Realizing I could not make amends, I simply asked for forgiveness and hoped the grudges against my old self would not be held against this new creation.  I soon learned I needed to keep my hope in our Creator, rather than humanity.  I made my "apology phone call" and went out to see them in person.  It wasn't a year, before I found myself in an old familiar circumstance, only this time, I saw things differently.  I saw the entire scenario unfold, rather than fragmented bits and pieces.  I was no longer in the position of having to accept the perspective of someone else.  I wasn't trying to discount the perspective of others, but I had my own connected awareness of the situation that had transpired.  Clearly, this was not going to work well in the traditional family dynamics.  It was also at that time, I realized, they hadn't been pleased with me, the other way either . . . I love my family, but I don't think the same way they do, and that has always been a problem that continues to this day.   My sister, on the other hand, has embraced life the way my parents framed it.  I don't think that has served her well.    

As for the church, my belief in the complete Scriptures doesn't fit with mainstream American Christianity.  When Paul wrote to Timothy regarding ". . . rightly dividing the Word . . ." many American Christians apparently do not realize that was not referring to the "Old and New Testaments."  The New Testament would not be compiled for another 300 years.  As for family, the rules of engagement still haven't changed.  We all have our role in the function of dysfunction, and if one person steps out of that . . . harmony does not necessarily ensue.  Although my daughter has admittedly benefitted financially, she's recently stated that she knows her grandparents actually reward her for disrespect toward her mother.  

So, here we are twenty years later and sadly, many American mainstream Christians prefer my absence and have stated as much, and family is what it is.   It was 2012 before I understood Ephesians 6:13.  I had done all I could and it was time to stand.  

Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.

To Be Used in Healing and Deliverance

Posted by [email protected] on June 11, 2014 at 7:50 PM Comments comments (0)

I've truly longed to be used in a healing and deliverance ministry, for years.  So much so, I walked away from every aspect of mainstream medicine over thirteen years ago.  I've made no doctor's appointments, filled no prescriptions, purchased no OTC drugs, did not even take a trip to the ER when bones were obviously broken.  The latter has happened four times in these 13 years.  I take Exodus 15:26 very literally, and I can also attest to the fact, I was clearly operating outside of the will of Abba when the broken bones occurred.  I didn't realize it at the time, as it wasn't intentional disobedience, but rather had obligated myself in the traditional religious teachings of our society.  Every broken bone has served as a wake-up call!  I was still letting go and laying down "what I thought I knew."  


I've asked Adonai why we don't see the healings and deliverances recorded in Scripture.  His answer was simple and to the point.  He said we've placed our faith in medicine, psychology, and religious opinion; rather than in He and His Son.  I asked, since I had repented of medicine and psychological counsel, why He wasn't using me?  He then informed me, if I wanted to see Him do more, I needed to share what He'd already done!   Having written, "Wilt Thou Be Made Whole?" and "Can We All Be Wrong?"  I truly thought I'd done done that, but He's since shown me, my testimony needs to be shared on a more personal level.  That's when I went to the third person idea, but . . . to be honest, I feared that could actually cause me to forfeit the healing I'd been given.  


Giving all glory to Abba, I haven't had a broken bone since writing "Wilt Thou Be Made Whole?," but it does seem my MS symptoms have worsened.  I knew in my spirit, though; it wasn't an attack of the enemy.  Years ago when I'd asked for healing regarding the MS . . . several times I asked, I always received the same answer, which is found in II Corinthians 12:9.  " . . . My grace is sufficient for thee . . ."  


In writing "Wilt Tou Be Made Whole?", I included the possibility that many of our physical illnesses are in fact a manifestation of spiritual issues.  I hadn't realized until just recently that although His grace has been sufficient, the testimony of my mental health is paramount to moving forward in the ministry to which He has called me and the desire He has placed in my heart.  Many people suffer from what society has labeled, mental health issues, who are either afraid to talk about it, or have settled for medicated management.  I've been hesitant to discuss my past mental health, because in a society that considers itself quite advanced in psychiatry, psychology, Christian psychology, social work, and counseling of all sorts; the stigma of a past label remains, even amongst the so called experts.  I took a Bible study into a state mental health facility for several years, and although those professionals made very good money in thier career, they openly admitted there was no healing.  I know otherwise, and I want to share that with others who struggle.

Depending upon beliefs and denomination, mental health tends to fall into two basic religious categories to be addressed.  Some believe it is actually an illness while others believe it to be demonic.  Regardless of the root cause, YHWH is greater and undoubtedly a struggle with mental health is definitely, bondage.  Consider for moment, the children of Israel.  Their deliverance was from slavery, not demons.  Their plight in Egypt was called bondage, so I'm asking you to set aside religious or secular labels, and especially the combination of the two.  I lived many years a slave to social expectations, and in bondage of family rejection.  The darkness is my life wasn't demonic possession, but fragmented awareness.  I've included a diagram, but I would say a simpler explanation is one of confusion between the secret truth of reality and the social appearance, required.  


By the age of four, I knew from playing with cousins and neighbor kids, there was a difference between home life and "social" life, but I assumed everyone lived that same way.  I didn't know their lives connected without divisions.   I lived in a home in which I was taught that any omission of the entire account was considered dishonest, and the truth, the whole truth; was an absolutely requirement, yet . . . there were many things that were not to be told.  I didn't come from a broken home. I came from a home that broke me.


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