This morning my dog's desire to hang with me superseded her fear of the vacuum cleaner. Where I went, she went, and patiently waited for me as I attempted to remove all evidence of boy-dirt and shedding dogs. I was touched.

Has your belief in the goodness of God superseded your fear of facing something painful? If it has, you're on the right track. Like Hannah, you will not be alone. God is touched by your willingness to remain by His side as you overcome.

Tell God how you feel each day. As you open your heart,  you'll see more and more evidence of the goodness of God. Give your belief in His goodness time to grow. And watch your fears subside.

It was important for me to let Hannah know I was pleased that she longed for my company in the midst of something scary in her world. Consider how much more God wants you to know how pleased He is with your willingness to seek freedom from what causes pain and fear in your world.

Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. (Psalm 139:23)

(from my archives) 

My darkest hours do not represent a day in time, when horrible things happened to me on earth. 2 Peter 3:8 reminds us that God is not bound by time and space.

"But do not forget this one thing, dear friends; With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day."

My darkest hour represents the darkest place in my heart--the part that convinces me to despair. No breakthroughs for you, Wendy. You'll never get past this. Part of me believes the lie, though most of me knows better.

And so, it is I who leaves a part of my heart withering in the dark. Not God, who's always reaching for me with loving arms. He longs to pull me out of the pit that deceives me into fearing that this time, darkness overshadows divine Light. Over and over, the pit whispers, "Avenge yourself, protect yourself!"

But Light whispers too. He tells me what to pray. "I believe Lord, help me with my unbelief." (Mark 9:24 NIV) And in that moment, Light pierces me. I am re-wounded. The blood of an unhealed wound is absorbed in the blood of Christ. I am consecrated and suddenly, all things are possible in Him. (Matthew 9:26 NIV)

Miraculously, an incident that hurt for a thousand years, is put in its rightful place--a day. I gain eternal perspective. 

Question: If you have something in your heart that you don't trust God with, will you consider going to Him and telling Him how you feel? Close with this beautiful prayer, "I believe Lord, help me with my unbelief."

(Archives 5-18-2010)

Dads. I'm forty-three years old and I'm still not sure what to make of my own. Truth is, I don't really know him. We rarely see one another. We rarely speak. No anger. No fall-outs.

I've never understood it. The last time he visited (five years ago?), he stayed less than twenty-four hours. Left town before the children woke. Later that day, I cried. Then I told myself that it didn't matter. Allowing it to matter would've prolonged the pain. And at the time, I simply didn't have the energy to spare. So I forgot about it.

Then last Saturday, as I waited by the register after ordering barbeque, a grey-haired gentlemen asked, "Have you been helped, Sweetie?"

"Yes Sir. I'm just waiting."

When I returned to my car, my eyes betrayed me with secret drops of disappointment. Sweetie. His tone had awakened ancient pain. My own father has never sad anything that endearing to me. Sure, we talk on the phone. He describes the weather and tells me of the chores he's completed. Then we say our I-love-you's and hang up.

I'm sad. Sad that my father has never addressed me as Sweetie or Honey. That he doesn't see me as the apple of his eye. I can't help but wonder. What would it be like to have a father interested in me . . . my children, my life?

I know God is "a father to the fatherless." That He judges righteously on my behalf. My heavenly Father is perfect. I thank Him everyday for being perfect. For creating perfectly. For forgiving perfectly. For His perfect love, in spite of imperfect me.

Still, the reality of me and my earthly dad, just plain hurts. And at my age, I know it will until it doesn't.

I also know that God is the one who brought this whole thing to my attention. He knew where I hurt and why I hurt. That I'd painted myself into a "spiritually mature corner" in an attempt to avoid the heart of the matter. And since my ministry encourages others to face the heart of matters, over and over, He calls me to "walk my talk."

So, it's time to write a letter. I'll mail it if God asks me to. It's been a while since I've felt this vulnerable regarding a relationship. One thing I know for certain--God is in control. God has my best interest at heart. By His grace, I've already overcome more than I ever thought possible. I can trust Him with this. I will.

I'd love to tell you that I allowed God to be my ONLY comfort over the weekend. But yesterday I spent three hours cleaning my pantry. Pretty glass jars. Organized rows of spices . . .  Martha Stewart's got nothing on my pantry.

This morning I asked God to forgive me for getting lost in my pantry yesterday when what I needed most was to be lost in Him. So, today I did both.

Progress, not perfection. Or as the Bible says, "from glory to glory." I'm forever God's girl.

Has God ever revealed hidden sadness in your heart? How did you react? Did you talk to Him about it? Did you find ways to comfort yourself? Perhaps a little of both?

Search me, God, and know my heart, test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way of everlasting. (Psalm 139:23-24)

I couldn't imagine my friend losing control. Loving God and her family was her highest priority. I was accustomed to seeing her every few weeks then she quietly vanished from my life. I thought of her often, left messages, but still no contact for almost a year.

Then one day she called. And in the midst of inquiring what the other had been up to, she revealed the reason for her disappearance. Which turned out to be a long season of what I refer to as  high-maintenance-parenting: sleepless nights followed by stressful days filled with conversations that leave you too drained to remember your own name much less keep up good appearances. When a smile is too difficult to maintain, we Christians often withdrawal for fear that we might be seen hurting.

My friend struggled to reconcile a situation that had taken place in her family. She and her husband attended church, loved God and provided a good home for their children. But they were not immune to teenage rebellion . . . even as Christians. She told me of the night her son was arrested and of his return home. In spite of everything, rock bottom had not yet arrived, his verbal attacks on her resumed, and a gentle woman finally snapped. She hit him.

"How did this happen?" she asked. "We aren't violent people. Things like this don't happen in our home."

Tears of confusion, shame, and regret accompanied her confession. I empathized with her and felt compelled to confess a time when I lost control. 

My oldest son, Christopher, was hard to parent throughout high school. I did everything I could to keep him from smoking pot; to no avail. And he never denied smoking when I inquired.

"Yep, I'm high." He'd say.

He didn't care if I grounded him or took privileges away because the severity of cystic acne robbed him of a social life. He spent most of his time alone playing an acoustic guitar, and I often wondered how something so beautiful could pour out of someone so angry.

Eighteen was the toughest age of all. By then he'd mastered the pushing of every button I had. He wanted the freedom that accompanies adulthood but with none of the responsibilities. A combination that would soon lead to my emotional demise (at least for a moment). I don't remember what he said, but whatever it was, it invoked one of those, "this is my house" meltdowns. I charged into his room, stepped onto his bed, and began pulling posters off the wall.

In a flash, he stood nose to nose with me and after a few verbal exchanges I dare not repeat, I grabbed the collar of his shirt. I won't sugar coat it. I fully intended to separate my  firstborns head from his shoulders and ask God to heal him later!

The next thing I knew, my husband, Michael, was pulling me off of him. Hours later when we had all calmed down, I said to Michael, "Christopher would never hurt me. There was no need for you to intervene."

"I wasn't afraid HE was going to hurt YOU. I was afraid YOU were going to hurt HIM."

By the end of the story, my sweet friend's tears had turned into the type of inappropriate laughter that comes from pain coupled with pure exhaustion. Grace had gently placed her feet back on the road to human frailty by prompting me to confess something I preferred to keep to myself. 

No casualties to date in either family. God is still in control.

"...for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, being justified freely by His grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus..." (Romans 3:23-24 NKJV). 

Q4U: Have you "lost it" with a loved one recently? Apologize. Ask God to forgive you. Amend your behavior. Move on.

For someone who almost always has something to say, today I struggle. I've always believed in imploring the help of another and then sharing your experience, strength, and hope as you go along. God designed us to "pay it forward."

Three years ago, I launched this website as a way of sharing with you, that which was freely given to me. Freely, meaning through God's grace and unfailing love. Not no-effort-on-my-part freely.

You can see by the category selections, I've experienced some hard hits. The kind that will keep you down your whole life if you don't grab hold of God with fierce determination to overcome. And that's what I've been writing about the last three years. Bu just as God faithfully transforms me, He transforms my messages.

I have a new message for you. God willing, it will be available in book format. God willing, it will be something I can share with you in public speaking venues. (Perhaps we can finally meet face to face!) So, I must do my part: The book proposal is written. Now it's time to practice the teaching, based on the book. The title? HOW TO FORGIVE WHAT YOU'LL NEVER FORGET

I won't bore you with the details of the long journey to publication, but I will tell you that it requires a woman with a day job, a family to care for, and an outreach for women, to be intentional with her time. After much prayer, I realize now that somethings gotta give.

That something for now is blogging. I'd like to blog once a week, but I can't promise. If you'll go to my home page, you can sign up on my e-list and I'll notify you when I do blog. This is a good way to let you know I'm still alive and kickin as I prepare to offer you a resource that I believe will bridge the gap between the Christian commandment to forgive and the all-too-human desire for apology, restitution, and revenge. Most of us, at one time or another, struggle to forgive.

So, here I sit, about to commit social media suicide. Trusting God to raise me from the dead when the time is right.

I WILL NOT CEASE PRAYING FOR YOU. I-pray-for-you. As you check back here and there, you'll notice that my website is undergoing changes, too. But the category selections will remain. I encourage you to take some time and read the older posts.

Thanks for understanding.