For as long as I can remember I didn’t feel loved. I don’t know how or why that developed in my head, just that it lasted until I met my present husband.
I felt loved by Jesus, who was introduced to me as my friend.
However, nothing ever truly felt like love to me. Sadly, I learned recently that my precious daughter also feels this ugliness. I don’t have many opportunities to help her because she tends to shut me out. I don’t like it. I don’t understand it and yet I know where she’s at in that emotion.
But this isn’t about her, its about me. I am these many years old and I finally FEEL loved, honored, and cherished. I wish someone would have just asked the question, “Paula, do you feel loved?”
The answer may surprise you. Teens may tend to be far more sullen and may not answer right away. My nanagirl says I love you, every chance she gets. I recognize that seeking for validation. She’s 5, I have a chance to fix that in her head… and yes, it is in the head. I used to have instances that defined love to me and I want to help her to value herself in her search for love. My search hurt for many years. I gave my heart to those who said or acted as if they desired me and I foolishly thought that giving them my version of the best sex, being the best wife ( married or not), etc would keep them with me.
(Insert deep sigh here) I had to learn to stand up for myself… or should I say that I’m still learning to stand up for me while voicing my truths. Now, I must say, that my truth isn’t always true and I thank God for sending me the man who has on many occasions corrected me, ever so lovingly.
Ask the question.
Discuss the answers.
It’s truly worth it.
I’m currently watching Ginny and Georgia. It’s a Netflix show my Nanagirl wanted to watch with me, well she didn’t say she wanted to watch with me … it is my Tele in my bedroom.
I’m blessed to have this insight into her teen mind.
However, it causes me to remember my own teen journey, the uncertainty, the lack of wisdom though I believed myself to be quite wise at her age, 16.
Let’s never forget that in-between adolescence and adulthood is a lot of confusion, angst, and the need to be heard.
Today, I am feeling angst. My daughter, her bestie and their children are flying out tomorrow and it bothers me in a way that puzzles me. I think it’s the whole pandemic thing, but it feels like something else… a premonition of impending doom. However, I am aware that my sensor is off kilter because of something that happened in the past. It was beyond horrible and completely life shattering. Enough said.
I’m going about my day… chiding myself for worrying. (Insert deep soul cleansing sigh here)
I know that all too soon, the vacation will be over and I’ll wonder when the next one will come about.
I believe I’m living in fear which is no bueno. Yo necisito calm down. Wooooo saaaahhhhh.
That’s it… That’s all I have right now.
In 1965 I was a first grader. I’d been reading since I was four years old. I’m a voracious reader.
I enjoyed Dr. Seuss. His early works were odd to me, maybe because I was so young. I introduced his writing to my children and grandchildren.
Honestly, it never occurred to me that anything was wrong with the pictures. I truly hope that the family will consider changing the graphics/illustrations and allowing future generations to enjoy these 6 books.
On another note: I’d like to own the original works.
If you find a copy… drop me a note and I’ll set up a way to pay (if I must) a reasonable price.
Change is never easy.
Have you ever done something just for the sake of getting noticed?
Yes, it was a good thing to do, however what was your main motivation?
Do something good today and make mention of it to no one.
Kids are NOT easy at any age. Mine range from 17 to 40ish.
I will not say that I’m a stellar parent, heck I wouldn’t that I’m a good parent. However, I did try to give them the tools to become good, godly women and man.
Today, while stressing over one of them who just suddenly dropped off the grid (again)… the one who is 3 years clean and sober reminded me that it was my prayers that got her through to her right mind.
Oh and those days were sleepless and tear filled. Yes, they were mostly about my runaway daughter … but they were more so about me wondering about what I’d done wrong. Please! God! Please!
Deep deep sigh.
I must admit that I sinfully worry about them all, blood and grafted into my heart.
I watched a young woman NOT speak to her parent. I didn’t coerce her, even though I knew the parent so badly wanted to just hear her voice. (Again insert a deep sigh)
I’m reminded of Isaiah 59:2 but it gives no comfort.
I must remember that Father’s got it.
Which is better? I’ve learned that it depends. On What?
I haven’t figured that out yet.
Giggles. I do understand that consistency is the key.
Carry on … nothing to see here.
What is hope if the unavoidable is THE only outcome?
Why do we “hue-mans” seek constant miracles?
Is it foolish to believe that if I read Romeo and Juliette one more time… neither of them die and that their children bring peace to the family?
There are some basic unavoidable inevitablities, water is wet, so walking in the rain will cause you to be WET. However, illness from said wetness is not inevitable.
(Insert deep sigh here)
It is inevitable that death is an unavoidable transition we all must make one day or night.
Life isn’t always pleasant and yet there are those who chose to live it truly not even making note of the inevitable. These are the ones who make life pleasant for the rest of us. They are the inventors, discoverers, and yes authors of whichever moment in time they happen to find themselves planted in.
So today, ask yourself, “Am I just going to accept the inevitable or am I going to seek out the possibilities?
Never forget that the umbrella, raincoat and galoshes are someone’s attempt at making water not so wet.
I know you’ve noticed that I haven’t written for some time. I suppose I could say that I have so much on my mind that I just didn’t know where to start, however, that would be untrue.
I just didn’t want to spew anger. I heard the man say that those who voted for Trump were being disenfranchised and I got angry.
I saw the insurrection and I got angry.
I saw Covid numbers and mutations arise and I got angry.
I lost more people to a virus we just weren’t prepared for and I got angry.
Angry anger consumed my thoughts. It seeped into the corners of my heart and came out swinging.
None of this is new. People worship many things so Donald Trump isn’t the oddest. Jim Jones, David Koresh, Adolph Hitler all had the ability to awaken some horrible dark thing deep down in the heart of people. Heck, some had sex and were branded all in the name of good business.
Then there’s Jeopardy. I DVR it. The guest host thing is bothering me because I don’t care for what appears to be dating to find the new replacement. Ken doesn’t do it for me.
See? Now you know … rambling thoughts.
I think I need a big mug of mulled cider.
There was a true tragedy in my life that derailed my prayer life for a long time. It caused me to question my usefulness to the kingdom and it caused me to feel as if Father had in every sense of the word, forsaken me.
I must admit that a couple of months ago most of that was corrected in a way that could only have been Father. He is, after all, Creator of all things – the author and finisher of my faith. Selah
However there are still some very raw areas. My family isn’t whole. It isn’t as I’d imagined it to be growing up. Deep sigh
So what am I to do with hopes dashed, dreams dead, etc? Yes, it’s easy to just say Trust Father. But how does one live it out? What does that portion of my faith walk look like?
I used to have a blessed ministry, at least I thought so and yes, I miss it. I want so much to heal my relationship with Father. It’s just about all I long for nowadays. I have a hubby who loves and cherishes me. He takes great care of my heart.
My kids, do not rise up and called me blessed. Well a couple of them do. That hurts. However, kids grow up and live their own lives. I must stop here before I say too much.
Sow in prayer what you need from Father.