Knocks at the door...

Just moments after hitting the "publish" button on my last post... God started reaching down and being very personal... intentional... in getting my attention.  He started knocking.  I knew I was in a spiritual battle, but I had not an ounce of strength or even desire to fight.

I am so thankful my God, my Father... is not content to leave me there... in a heap of ridiculous mess at the bottom of the hole... or actually flat on my back on the kitchen floor.

The first "knock" was a phone call less than ten minutes after posting.  It was from a friend who had no idea what was going on and she bathed me with truth in love.  I felt something loosen.

The second was a photo I saw on a new friend's facebook page...

6 dogs that had just been pulled from a shelter before being killed.  Six little faces looking out of the back of an SUV... life... life saved and ready to be restored.  I felt a glimmer of strength stir inside me.

The third "knock" was my mom checking in on me... a follow up to her " I was led to call you" phone call last night.  She loved me and made me laugh.

And then the forth "knock" was loud and clear.  It beckoned me to open the door back up to Him.  I have this horrible problem of pulling away when I am wounded.  I close up.  And it comes with the inability to pray.  I feel I am so angry and raw and flesh like/human that I can not even make myself approach the throne.  Satan knows this and he drags me away hard sometimes... or he simply whispers lies that I believe and I walk off on my own will... rebellion.

As the fourth knock invited me to open the door... the words sounded a little familiar.  This fourth knock was an email I received from a friend who also had no idea what I was wrestling with.  She is having a hard time and this is what she sent me...

Struggling hardcore these last few days and pulled these emails back up. It seems that this really is an ongoing struggle of mine. Even in the last two emails asking the question if you've ever fallen too far for him to not pick you back up again. That's where I'm at. Again. 

Thank you for always speaking truth into my life (and that it's saved in email form so I can pull it back up over and over again) and for always calling me out when I need to be called out. 

Love you...

Sent from my iPhone

On Sep 23, 2010, at 2:03 AM, allfromhim <allfromhim@bellsouth.net> wrote:

Good Morning Sweet one....

  You are ALWAYS IN A POSITION for God to come rescue you... you are His child.  You are always in a position for God to love you and show Himself to you.... He loves you, adores you, longs to be with you.

You are always on the heart of God, He is always calling to you, gently speaking to you, waiting for you... you have to go, you have to want to be with Him, you have to listen... and He is there... waiting with open arms!

  The enemy wants you to think you are not in a position.  Then you won't approach Him.  Sweet one... this is all about the enemy trying to steal, kill, and destroy your joy.  Where does "joy" come from?  Joy comes from the Lord. 

  AND THERE IS NEVER A POINT WHERE GOD SAYS ENOUGH!  Denounce that lie!  You have not "fallen away"... you are in a MAJOR battle for your heart and your faith.  In scripture, someone asks the Lord how many times he has to forgive his brother and the Lord says, 7 x 777 or something like that. (I'll look it up!)  But the point is... over and over and over and over and over and over... that is what the blood of Christ is for.

  My heart hurts that you are in this battle baby.  I so want to love on you and hug you and pray with you.  Please come "home" this weekend if you can.  You can hole up here and get loved on.  Consider it. 

  Take the things you told me to the Lord today.

  You are at a crucial place right now but the great news is the Lord of Lord and King of Kings is on your side!  HE IS YOUR WARRIOR!

  I have to go shower and get ready for Mom to Mom.  I'll write you more later.  I love you so so so so so so much.  You make my heart smile.  Your pain breaks my heart to the deepest points.  I am in prayer for you today.  You are in the Father's arms... claim that.  HE WILL NEVER LET YOU GO!!!!!!!!!

Dawn 

As I read those words, it hit me, they were mine.  And all of the sudden I heard God say, "THIS IS WHO YOU ARE.  THIS IS WHO YOU ARE IN ME.  THIS IS WHAT YOU KNOW TO BE TRUE.  THIS.  THIS.  LISTEN TO THIS.  THIS IS YOUR HEART! I AM CALLING TO YOU!"  I was smacked.  He reached down and gave me that.  I was floored... humbled... amazed... and oh so thankful.

I wrote those words in Sept. of 2010 and God sent them back to me over two years later and they were exactly what I needed to hear.  As I stood there in the grocery store... reading words over my phone... all the anger melted away.  The pain is still there.  The sorrow of missing her is still very heavy.  But there is hope.  She is back.  And strength... His strength... brought down for me.

I am deeply humbled by how intimate God is... how He can come and knock on my door and reach down in ways meant to stir and rescue my heart.  I am humbled at how His love can come in so quickly and despair has no option but to leave.  I am humbled He loves me that much... this much.

I am so very glad I posted my last post.  I will say it again, because I really mean it... I am just like any other girl.  I am far from perfect.  I have moments... ugly moments... days even... when I want to quit... when I listen to the lies of the enemy and start walking off the path of life.  I fall.  And I often fall hard... face deep in the mud... and I maybe even inhale a little... muddy water clogging up the very breath of my life... leaving me spewing and gasping for air.  I might even throw some of that mud... leaving me in position to ask for forgiveness and a good washing.  And my Father is there... in the midst of my mud party... and He waits.  He offers living water, cleansing, and robes white as snow with His righteousness.  He offers me grace and forgiveness and life... One Beautiful Life with Him.  I just have to hear and accept His offer. 

I spoke the words, "I hate my life," several times over the past 48 hours.  I repent of those words and the heart behind them.  I hate moments in my life, yes.  But my life... no.  I was agreeing with the one who wants to kill, steal, and destroy me.  I am so heartbroken I gave him such territory in my life... in my heart.  

Direction.  The only direction worth going is forward in faith... eyes on Him at all times.  That is what I choose.  That is what I speak over my life today.

Direction

Oddly enough, direction is written on my calendar for blogging right now.  Who knew that last month, when I wrote the themes on the calendar, direction would be who I would be sitting with today.

If you know me or follow me on facebook... you already know I am grieving the loss of my little Chloe... our first foster dog.  I know.  It's a dog.  I feel like people are like "yeah.... get over it already."  I want to... I wish I could... but her absence twirls around me like her precious little spirit did daily.  And tears can not be held.  I am sick with wanting her back.

The whole loss of her seems to be bringing to surface some seriously raw emotion.  Last week alone, we were denied insurance coverage for therapy Abby needs (my daughter), I stepped on the head of a little green lizard in our garage and Don had to finish it off to end it's suffering (I was traumatized... I let bugs go free and actually save things from spider webs), we rescued a third foster dog who is smacked with kennel cough and pneumonia, and I let my little precious Chloe get in the car with another family and leave.

As I grieve her absence, I don't want to be me anymore.  I don't want this heart.  I don't want this pain.  I don't want to care anymore.  All I can think about is changing direction.  I want to be numb.  I want to quit.

It is exhausting.  When I see a dead deer on the side of the road, a dead cat or dog or raccoon... I am flooded with emotion that is exhausting.  When I pass the local animal shelter, I am flooded with panic and pain and hopelessness.  It comes up from my toes and runs through my veins like acid.  I am tired of it.  I am done.  Really.  Enough already.

I was talking/crying with my mother last night on the phone.  She was talking about my compassionate heart and how beautiful it is and all I could think was "stupid"... these emotions that coil around me are stupid.  I mean seriously, there are bigger issues in the world than losing a spark of joy that danced around you each day and filled you with pure innocent delight and love.

I am so angry with myself and I am angry with my husband.  He made me choose.  Yet he "let" me foster in the first place.  And that brings about an entire separate bag of worms... having to "ask" permission to do things I want to do in my life because of godly order in the home.  As I spewed my anger towards him to my mother last night, she reminded me that who I am actually mad at is God since He set up godly order in the home.

So great.  Add that to the list. I am mad at myself... livid actually... that I made the wrong decision.  I, as always, tried to make the right decision.  My husband gave me the choice... keep Chloe and we don't foster/save anymore dogs... let Chloe go and you can help/save other dogs.  "Be selfless for the greater good," I decided.  Yep.  That's me.  But if ever there was a time to be selfish in my life it was THEN.  And I am severely peeved with myself for letting her go.  There.  I am peeved with myself and I can't go back... I can't get her back.  That hurts... hurts deep.  I want to slap myself every time I look in the mirror.

And I am peeved with my husband.  He thinks it is unfair.  But he made me choose.  For that, I am angry.  For the fact he seems to not even GET that I am grieving her... I am angry.

And I guess I am also mad at God.  He set up godly order in the home and as I want to please Him... I give in.  I hate it.  I rebel against it.  It makes me feel controlled.  It makes me feel like a child.  It makes me think I'd be better off without a husband so I could make my own decisions and that is just simply spoiled and then the fact that I even feel that way makes me feel like a spoiled brat and again mad at myself.

And then there is this... I thought God would help me let her go.  I really thought He would honor my heart and give me some supernatural ability to smile and let her go and find comfort in the fact she is with a wonderful loving family.  And He didn't.  Nope.  No He didn't.   I hit... bottom... hard.  There is no comfort.  Only ridiculous deep sorrow.  And memories... memories of her waiting until I stirred in bed each day and licking my face and laying down by my shoulder.  Memories of her twirling at my feet as I got out of bed.  Memories of her following me to the closet and getting excited as I got dressed.  Memories of her twirling in front of me as we walked down the hallway and her pulling on my pants as I walked down the stairs.  Memories of her wanting to come with me every time I went somewhere.  Memories of her crying with delight and bouncing all over me and licking me with kisses when I returned from a conference.  Memories of her everywhere... all... day... long.

And actually, funny enough... since this past week has just been as funny as possible... I was up in the middle of the night Monday night with the new dog, Ferris, who is coughing his brains out.  I had him in my arms around 5:30 a.m. to take him to the bathroom to "steam" him in hopes he could breath better.  As I walked around the corner half asleep, I forgot about the baby gate that was up as part of our effort to keep him separate from our other dog.  I ran right into it, almost flipped over it but then it flew forward and as I compensated from almost flipping forward, I flew into the air and landed flat on my back in the kitchen, on the hardwood.  My literal hitting bottom hard becoming all too real.  I let go of the dog, whom I managed to hang onto, and laid there and cried.  My back, my neck, my wrist, my hip... burning with pain.  And today, as a sweet reminder, I feel like I have been HIT BY A TRUCK.  I can not even move without pain.  In yet another effort to help, I was thrown flat on my back.

So direction... I don't think I can do this anymore.  I don't want to.  I don't want to care this much and hurt this much and be this emotional.  I am done.  I want to change direction.  I want to turn this off.  I want to join another club... the club of  "I don't care anymore."

This is not my typical post.  I hate it when people think I have it together or they say I am so strong.  I am not.  I am not strong.  I am a mess.  And here it is... my mess.  My fit.  My pain.  My anger and my grief... right here... in it's flesh.

And I thought I'd share it... so there is never moment when you think I am anything but what I am... a mess.  A ridiculous mess.