The Little Girl Within -- A Suitcase Full of Fears

Fears -- we all have them and they can be difficult to handle.  Today, my friend Lori Jones shares a descriptive and insightful story about when she was a little girl watching her Aunt struggle and how Lori is learning how to surrender her own fears.

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     On pins and needles I watched Aunt Irene carry the serving platter across her kitchen.  The plate bobbed and weaved like the flight of the bumblebee and threatened to come crashing to the linoleum.  The potential of things breaking sent shivers down my spine; at just nine years old, I had already figured out that broken things meant for a bad day in my household.

Just as I was about to develop a quiet ulcer, the tray found a home on the counter.  Whew.  Then, off she went with a dishtowel, wiping a glass and holding several others in the crook of her arm!

She traveled with a tilted gait and mumbled to herself while cleaning up after our evening meal. Her head swayed with a mind of its own.

            This was the first summer we had come to Colorado and found her shaking like this.  I had heard through the parental eavesdrop line that Irene was sick.  I was sure it was Huntington’s, the secret disease in our family, the one that grownups spoke of in hushed tones when the children were playing.

I knew there was no cure; of that I was sure, and I wondered if they could tell by looking at you whether you had it or not, because at family gatherings the adults would cluster and whisper with one other, while peeking up and around at us cousins.

I sat frozen while Irene finished, alternating between chewing my fingernails and gripping the table edge.

When we had arrived the night before, I desperately wanted to hug my Aunt Irene, and yet I was completely terrified of her and whatever had taken over her body.  What if right in the middle of the embrace she uncontrollably grabbed me and wouldn’t let go?  What if she tipped over, and it was my fault? If the truth be told, I feared I might catch what she had if I got too close.

My Little Girl Within had fears, lots of them, and she stowed them in a suitcase and travelled with them into adulthood.

Fear is a roadblock; it can stop us in our tracks if we allow it. In the Old Testament, when the Israelites were to conquer and take possession of the Promised Land, they were also afraid.  Although their new home was filled with good food and fertile soil, it was also inhabited by strong men, towering over them.  The future was unknown and intimidating.  But God said through their leader Moses, “Be strong and courageous.. the Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” (Deut. 31:6-7)

Looking back on that trip, I regret not holding her tight.  I’m proud of my aunt, forging through the kitchen like nothing, not even a bad case of sea legs, could stop her from getting the dishes done.  I will remember Irene, not as a victim of Huntington’s Disease, but as someone with courage, who refused to become paralyzed by her present circumstances or to dwell on hypothetical’s; she just did the next logical thing.

I’m learning to unpack my fears, one at a time, and release them to God. Does this ensure a positive outcome?  Not necessarily, but if God promises to go before me, I will try to follow Him and rest in the assurance that a “mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace”. (Romans 8:6)

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Lori Jones is a wife and mother of three children.  She is a self-employed database designer who works part time in order to balance caring for her family and home with her passion for writing and teaching.  Lori is a regular speaker and teacher for Women’s Wednesday Bible Study at Calvary Bible Church in Neenah, Wisconsin.

If you have a Little Girl Within story that you would like to share in order to encourage others, I would love to hear from you. Guidelines for submission are at the bottom of the post for the start of the series here.

The Little Girl Within -- Never Forgotten by Him

Is it hard to believe that you are loved?  Do you tend to build walls around your heart?  Do you fear that you are forgotten?  My friend Betty shares her story of when she was a little girl, where she learned how to build walls and how her dear Jesus has come in and broken down the walls.  We all build walls, don't we? But there is hope ... 

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     Sometimes I wish I could go back and be a fly on the wall. To see why "the little girl within" learned to smile on the outside, but hurt so much on the inside. To understand why the wall around her heart was built. She didn't even realize the wall was going up, brick by brick, to protect her heart from feeling unloved and disappointed. How is the "little girl within" affected at birth, two years old, and four years old when love and life is disrupted by a mother's mental illness and hospitalization? What would the fly see? An emotionally sick mother, unable to love? An impressionable little girl, desperately needing love?

     "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!" Isaiah 49:15-16.

    And Jesus, who heals the brokenhearted, did not forget me. He was there. He saw me (and the wall). He's shown me over time that the wall to protect was actually a barrier to receiving the love I longed for. The wall hindered me from relationally going deep in giving and receiving love as God desired. I had fear in loving.

     He said, "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear..." 1 John 4:18.  And the one who IS perfect love, the ONLY ONE who can love perfectly, God himself, has driven out my fear. He has broken down the old wall.

     Are there still times when the "little girl within" says, "Quick, put up the wall, guard your heart!"?

     Yes. God is still working. But he reassures me life is not so much about a stopwatch as about a compass. We are heading in the right direction together.

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Betty resides in Neenah, WI with her husband and four children. They attend Calvary Bible Church. When not busy volunteering at her children's schools, her church, or the Fair Market Thrift store, she enjoys walking their dog, reading at Neenah's Kimberly Point overlooking Lake Winnebago, and going on dates anytime, anywhere with her husband.

If you have a Little Girl Within story that you would like to share in order to encourage others, I would love to hear from you. Guidelines for submission are at the bottom of the post for the start of the series here.

The Little Girl Within -- The Kiss that Changed Everything

Do you have deep pains in your past?  Do you wonder if Jesus is pursuing you, relentlessly, tenderly?  Meet my friend Deanna and peer in to a part of  her tender, precious heart and then witness the hope that she has in Jesus. This hope is  for you, too, dear reader.

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I pushed my soup around my bowl. Why had he kissed me? What kind of kiss was that supposed to be? Was that supposed to be a regular “uncle” kiss? We were a huggy family, but I’d never been kissed on the lips by anyone but my parents. Really, by the time I was 13 I mostly kissed even my mom and dad on the cheek. If that wasn’t a romantic kiss, why was I feeling so stirred up? Why was my mind swimming?

I peeked out from under my hair at my aunt and Grandma’. Could they see that my mind was spinning? What would they have thought if the kiss had happened in the kitchen instead of in the garage? Should I go back to the woods where we’d been working together? He was splitting wood, and I was loading it.  Should I say I wanted to stay in the house and help wash the lunch dishes?

When we went back to work my questions were answered. Yes. I should’ve stayed in the house and done the dishes. No, I shouldn’t have gone back in the woods. No, it was not a regular “uncle” kiss. I felt stirred up because I was 13, and he was 28 and he intended for me to feel that way.

The little girl within me stayed behind in the woods that day.

When I went to the altar to pray at church, I embarrassed my family and learned that even Jesus couldn’t help. I began to question what I’d believed about Jesus. I questioned the Bible. I even questioned my questions. No one had the answers. The little girl who once loved church and Jesus became a young woman who wanted to believe, and wanted to love Jesus, but had been broken by bad choices. After a while, the bad choices of my uncle and other grown-ups were compounded by my own bad choices. I was impossibly far from Jesus.

“Then Jesus told them this parable, ‘Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?” Luke 15:3-4 (NIV)

For years I ran from Jesus. From Jesus, because He was pursuing me even when I didn’t know it. He was pursuing me when I was with kids at camp who had a real, vibrant relationship with Him. He was pursuing me when I checked out library books on tarot card reading and the occult but my schedule grew so hectic that I never had time to open the first book. He was pursuing me when I was invited to Campus Crusade for Christ, and loved it the one time I went, and missed it (and Him) when I refused to go again. He was pursuing me when I got married and tried to find my identity in being a wife. He was pursuing me when I got pregnant and started attending church again because I wanted my baby to be raised in church. He was pursuing me when I was invited to Bible Study and began to see that He desired a relationship with me.

“And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.” Luke 15:5-6 (NIV)

I get frustrated with myself sometimes. I still have areas of weakness. I still have places that hurt sometimes. But I know I will never again be the lost sheep. Those areas where I’m weak cause me to recognize my deep need for Jesus and stay close to my shepherd.  I see that my weaknesses and dark places are opportunities to be led by Jesus. I see that it’s through my weakness that I have hope and a witness to offer to others who need a shepherd.

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Deanna Rouse has been married to her wonderful husband for 20 years. Being his wife and  mom to their 3 children is her greatest joy after serving Jesus Christ, through teaching Sunday School and women's Bible study. She especially enjoys using drama to teach the truths of the Bible. She loves to read and to visit the mountains of North Carolina and Virginia. If she can read in the mountains that's even better.

If you have a Little Girl Within story that you would like to share in order to encourage others, I would love to hear from you. Guidelines for submission are at the bottom of the post for the start of the series here.

The Little Girl Within -- Looking out the Window

Do you ever feel stuck in a situation, unable to get out and scared of what may happen?  Do you struggle with knowing that you have choices? Today, in the Little Girl Within series, a friend who has asked to remain anonymous, shares a bit about her journey in feeling like this and some of the truths that the Lord is revealing to her.
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      Sitting in the back seat of the car, with my shoulders barely reaching the edge of the roll down window and my chin resting on the edge of the car door panel, I peered out the window.  Repeatedly, I recited to myself quietly, “If I can just get home, then I’ll be alright. Once I get to my room, I can find something to do and I’ll feel better.” 

     I tried to hide the tears rolling down my cheeks, as I watched the world go by outside the window.   I did not want to get in trouble for crying. I did not want to have to answer the angry question, “Why the _ _ _ _ are you crying now?” I didn’t know why I was crying. I was sad. I was lonely. I just wanted to be a little girl – loved, cherished and free to be me. It wasn't any one thing that happened, but rather, a childhood spent feeling left out, not important and afraid that I would mess up.

     My father was an unhappy man; I don’t think he could help it. I suspect he was a hurting man, too, perhaps from years of rejection and oppression when he was a little boy. Now, with his left hand gripping the bottom edge of the steering wheel and his right hand resting on the top of it, it seemed as if he was quick to yell at us or reach back and slap at us if we were not behaving as he desired.  Cigarette smoke filled the inside of the car. Heavier than the smoke was the anxiety that permeated the space.

     “If I can just get home, I’ll be alright. I’ll be okay. I’ll be fine.”

     I find myself still thinking like this from time to time when I am in a circumstance in which I think I can’t escape. Without even knowing,  like the little girl, peering out the window, waiting to get to my destination, I hold on for dear life, focused on the end point, fearing what may happen on the journey. I begin to feel hopeless and stuck.  I can only wait to the end where I am sure I can orchestrate quiet and order. Or at least, I can try.

      But the Lord is working with me. He is showing me that I do not need to white knuckle it through life. I am not stuck. I am not hopeless. I do have choices. I am not the little girl sitting behind the glass, alone. He was and is always with me.

     I can open the window, take a deep breath of clean air – His truth – and be assured of His love and care for me. I can cry if I need, too.  He knows why.  I’m okay, because He is more than okay. I’ll be fine, because He is mine.
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If you have a Little Girl Within story that you would like to share in order to encourage others, I would love to hear from you. Guidelines for submission are at the bottom of the post for the start of the series here.

The Little Girl Within -- A Treasure

Do you wonder about the little girl within you?  Do you know her? Have you forgotten her?  Today, Gail shares a snapshot of her discovery of her little girl within and the hope and healing that the Lord is giving her.

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                   I found her.  I reclaimed her.  I cherish her.  And oh, how I love her.  You see, I had lost her for many years.  Years of pain and neglect from two very wounded parents.  She had become a forgotten stranger in my life.  Even after having my own children, something was amiss, some pieces were lost.  I wanted to complete this puzzle I called my life.

                I sought professional guidance on this journey of my soul.  God was invited along each step of the way.  I wrote letters to my parents solely for my healing, not for mailing.  I found a tiny symbol of myself at age 8.  Something tangible to hold in the palm of my hand, to look at and to love.  

                On my nightstand rests a framed photo of myself at age 3.  Blonde curls tumbling around my neck, outside, happy face.  Every time I look at that picture, my heart fills with love for that dear sweet child.  I talk to her.  I taught her about feelings.  “What are you feeling?”  “What do you need?”  I give her something she never received -- unconditional love.  I love spending time with her.  She is pretty neat.  We play together.  We cry together.  I love her well and we love life together.  I will never let her go.  She is too precious.  She is who I am.  She is a treasure.

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Gail is a wife and mother of three children.  She put herself through college as an adult.  Recently, she chose to leave an IT career and is an aspiring children’s author.  “When I look at a child, I feel their soul; that delicate fragile heart yearning to be noticed, to be engaged, to be loved.”

If you have a Little Girl Within story that you would like to share in order to encourage others, I would love to hear from you. Guidelines for submission are at the bottom of the post for the start of the series here.

The Little Girl Within -- God's Mysterious Ways

God is intricately writing our stories, but sometimes it is hard to see what He is doing.  Today, Mary Schiller shares her “Little Girl Within” story, a touching story of redemption and God’s grace.   Thank you, Mary, for openly sharing your heart with us and reminding us that the Lord does bring beauty from ashes.
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 "The little girl within" was happy and showered in love. (Perhaps even a tad spoiled!) I arrived in my family at a time when most parents would have been contemplating their approaching empty nest.  My oldest brother was 21, attending college and engaged to be married the following year.  The middle one was 19 and in the Navy.  It was 1947 so he was involved with cleaning up the mess of war in Japan.  The youngest, who had been dubbed the tag-a-long, was almost 12, well on his way to adulthood.  And then came me, the long-awaited little girl, apple of my daddy's eye.

    My daddy was a minister of a very strict church with lots of rules and regulations about how to please God and eventually be good enough for Heaven someday.  As long as I abided by those rules things were fine and "the little girl within" did just that. But then that little girl began to grow and yearn for forbidden things.  The cravings began with nail polish and lipstick then escalated to blaring rock and roll music and glossy teen idol posters plastered around my room.  My dad was into "saving" long-haired bad boys in black leather on Harleys.  He would take them places, visit them if they landed in jail and even provide them with a roof over their heads when their parents had their fill and kicked them out.  Little did he know they were supplying me with all the cigarettes I could smoke (major sin) whenever his head was turned.

    When I was 16 I found one of those long-haired Harley riders for myself and by 17 was married to him. I loved my dad dearly and was able to reconnect with him later in life, but it took me a really long time to forgive him for not realizing just how much I needed his guidance in the turbulence of my teen years.  In his mind I had been raised right and that should have been enough.

    God used this rebellious teen girl and a boy already fighting mental demons and about to embark in the battle of his life with Huntington's Disease to bring forth 2 beautiful daughters and 6 wonderful grandchildren who have all accepted Him into their hearts. Our oldest grandson is in college preparing for ministry.  I can truthfully say God has worked in a mysterious way to bring about His will in my life and create beauty from the ashes of my mistakes.

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Mary Schiller enjoys reading.  As a former Sunday school teacher and church librarian, she desires to help children walk with the Lord and is currently involved in Awana at Calvary Bible Church in Neenah.  On of her daughters, Lori Jones, also shared her “Little Girl Within” story, A Kept Promise, here.   Mary resides in Neenah, Wisconsin.

If you have a Little Girl Within story that you would like to share in order to encourage others, I would love to hear from you. Guidelines for submission are at the bottom of the post for the start of the series here. 

The Little Girl Within -- Learning that She is Loved

Do you struggle with believing that God’s love is really for you?  Are you scared or unsure that He does?  Today, I share with you a brief letter that my friend Carol Adams sent me regarding the inner struggle of her heart.  Thank you, Carol, for your courage in sharing, not out of a heart that is holding on to the hurt, but out of a heart that is seeking to know, understand and love the Lord, desiring to grow closer to Him.

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I tend to compare God to my earthly father. My earthly father was critical and unloving. My earthly father got very mad at me when I showed emotion, when I was weak, if I was not perfect. He still does.

I work very hard at letting go of my definition of “father.” One of the greatest challenges that I face is knowing that God can and does love me.  I know He is a loving God, but I always think that He is a loving God to everyone else, but not me because I am so unworthy of His love. I always feel like I am a disappointment to Him. I want so much for Him to love me, but for some reason something stops me from feeling like I can let Him.

My first instinct is to put myself down when things don’t go “right.” I am working on accepting myself just how I am, and that it’s OK if I’m not perfect; God still loves me.  It’s OK to be sad, mad, scared, or just out-of-sorts.  Those feelings don’t make me a bad person, they just make me human. I am in the process of trying to realize that my Heavenly Father does love me in spite of my emotions and my weaknesses. 

This is a challenge for me, but I continue to try and accept God’s truths for my life and not listen to the lies.    God is faithful. He is showing me His love in new ways, every day.

Praise God that I do not have to be the same person that I was yesterday.  Every day is such a wonderful opportunity to learn, grow, and become the person that God intended me to be. I love this verse. It brings me hope. “"What this means is that those who become Christians become new persons.  They are not the same anymore, for the old life is gone.  A new life has begun!" 2 Corinthians 5:17 (NLT).

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"Carol is wife and mother of three who loves the Lord. Her interests include photography, scrapbooking, and reading. She appreciates authenticity in others and views each days as an opportunity to learn and grow. She lives in Neenah, Wisconsin.

Do you have a Little Girl Within story that you would like to share? Go here. Guidelines for submission are at the bottom of the post for the start of the series. I would love to hear from you.

The Little Girl Within -- A Kept Promise

Do you find it hard to hope?  Does it require risk to believe a promise? Today, my friend Lori Jones shares a tender story from when she was a little girl.  Perhaps it is a story that will resonate in your heart, as well.

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I curled my toes vice-like into his tan, wet shoulders. My knees shook.  “Hold my thumbs”, he instructed, and I did, as if about to ride in the rodeo.

“Now, stand up.”

I stood, high above the water, the breeze sending shivers through the late afternoon sun.

“When I count to three, let go and dive forward.”

He made it sound natural to send his seven-year old daughter head first into our backyard pool.

“One.. two.. three.. DIVE!”

He sprung and boosted me air born.  If I hadn’t let go, my arms would have been yanked from their sockets and I’d have had a nose full of water, so I released my grip and plunged into the deep.  It was sort of a dive belly flop hybrid, and I felt the sting as I heard the splash.

When I surfaced, Dad smiled, “OK try it again.”

I clamored back up. I’d been swimming since I was four, a little fish according to Dad, who would know.  Growing up in our town, he was famous at the city pool for back flips, double somersaults and all sorts of stunts. In Dad’s stories, there were dives named after him, and crowds gathered the day he attempted a two-and-a-half gainer.

Since my older sister still plugged her nose, Dad decided he would advance my swimming abilities.  He often bypassed her and granted the athletic, boyish events to me, his second girl who was supposed to be his son, and I drank in the sporadic affection.

Dad had a twinkle in his eye.

“If you dive by the end of the day, your piggy bank might be full of bubble gum tomorrow.”

Bubble gum! It sounded too good to be true, like the kitten he had brought home, and then took back two days later.

But a small flame of trust, a pilot light of hope buried inside of me flickered with his words, and this time my hands prayed above my head, and I met the water with little to no splash.  He was applauding when I bobbed up for air.

“That’s my girl.” He said, “We’re done for today.”

Dad was in a good mood the rest of the night.  He sang songs and even made dinner, Spaghettio’s with RC Cola to drink.  My sister was quiet, but I downplayed it so she wouldn’t feel bad or worse, ignore me.

 “Don’t forget to check your bank tomorrow ‘Little Fish’.”

Embarrassed, I climbed into bed, wishing he wouldn’t talk about it anymore. I didn’t dare get excited.  It hurt too badly when dreams got broken.

I peeked over at my bank, a fuzzy rabbit with glass eyes gazing silently back. Unable to sleep, I practiced what I would say in the morning when the gum wasn’t there.  I drifted off planning to pretend I had forgotten too.

But in the morning there it was.  I rubbed my eyes and threw off the covers.  The rabbit looked as surprised as me, crammed full of penny gum, pieces running out and onto the dresser.  The kind in waxy paper with powder leaking out, so soft and sweet your teeth hurt if you held it between your molars too long.  The kind with cartoon wrappers, never very funny, but you always read them anyway.

I stood in my pajamas and stared. Dad came in and laughed, but his amusement made me nervous.  Was the gum real?  Was he going to take it away?

“Go on!” he urged, although we hadn’t had breakfast yet.

I took one, and it was delicious. I offered some to my sister who said, “No thanks”, but accepted after Dad left, still chuckling.

I sat on my bed chewing and thinking.  This bank full of gum messed with my entire system of how things worked around here.  This was the first promise Dad had ever kept.  If he started to come through, would our lives change completely?  Would he get a job?  Would he sleep at night and not get so angry anymore?  How was I ever to stop myself from hoping again?

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Lori Jones is a wife and mother of three children.  She is a self-employed database designer who works part time in order to balance caring for her family and home with her passion for writing and teaching.  Lori is a regular speaker and teacher for Women’s Wednesday Bible Study at Calvary Bible Church in Neenah, Wisconsin.

Do you have a Little Girl Within story that you would like to share?  Go here.  Guidelines for submission are at the bottom of the post for the start of the series.  I would love to hear from you.

The Little Girl Within -- A Memory of Mean Girls

Thinking back, as a fifth grader I would have described myself as feeling “yucky” inside. I tried to do my best. I tried to be happy, but there was a part of me that was scared, lonely and confused, like a little lamb.   A pack of mean girls moved in on my life and set up their den around my heart.  

I don’t know what happened initially, other than we had just moved from Virginia to Illinois the previous year and the mocking began when I answered “Yes ma’am and No ma’am,” (in a Southern way) to the teacher’s questions. It just grew from there like mold on bread. I was a relatively naive child.  I wanted to be friends with people, but for some reason outside my understanding, was not going very well.  It was a long year -- make that, two years.

They made fun of me. They poked at me with pencils and compass tips. It hurt, leaving small puncture wounds not only on my body, but on my heart. They took things from me and then lied. It seemed like at every opportunity, they circled around me and loomed over me, breathing down my neck, instilling fear in me around every corner.  I felt vulnerable and violated. The pack was so domineering; I don’t remember having any other friends. Maybe everyone was scared of them, too.

The funny (or really not so funny) thing is that I don’t remember my teachers protecting me, either. Maybe I did not speak up; maybe I was afraid that I would get in trouble or be ridiculed even more. I did not feel safe at school. I hated feeling unprotected and alone.

I felt like something was wrong with me.  Why else would they treat me so cruelly? I did not know what to do. I cried myself to sleep almost every night, under my pink and white gingham comforter, asking God to make tomorrow a better day. Finally, in seventh grade, things began to turn around; a new school helped in making new friends.

Still, once in a while I do still struggle with the memories and the effect that they had on me.  I have to fight off a first response of thinking that there must be something wrong with me when I come up against others who are unkind. I can feel the “yucky” emptiness rise up inside of me, and I know that I have to stop, acknowledge it, and ask the Lord to help me embrace the truth.

 The truth is this -- what others think of me and how they treat me does not determine my value. Their actions do not mean I am the problem. God determines my value, not other people. The truth is that He says I am a treasured possession, dearly loved, and bought with a price, His beloved.  The truth is that I am not alone.

I was just a little girl. I hated that time. It takes no more than a hint of bullying or oppression, a mere brush with a mean girl, and I am right back to those difficult moments, feeling the pain,  the sorrow, and the loneliness, but somehow I can see how God has redeemed the years that the locusts (those mean girls) have eaten (Joel 2:25).

Although I do not understand why God allowed it to happen, I can see  that He is using it to give me a great compassion and love for others, especially for those who feel left out and “less than,” and in addition, I am learning to love myself and honor that little girl within, as well.

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Do you have a story to share about the little girl within you and what God is showing you about yourself and Him? Please click here to read the introductory post to this series. Included at the bottom of the post are guidelines for submission. I would love to hear from you.

The Little Girl Within -- A Start to a Series

The Little Girl Within – deep down inside of us, her heart still beats.  She does not speak with audible words, but with the words and emotions of the heart. She is as much a part of us now as the woman we were yesterday is part of our today. 

The Little Girl Within she has stories and she has yearnings, but sometimes those yearnings were not fulfilled. Rather, along the way they were damaged, destroyed, or neglected. 

She had yearnings to be appreciated, to not be forgotten, to dream, to be allowed to try and to be accepted if she failed. She desired to be embraced despite mistakes, to be nurtured, to feel like a priority, to be heard, and to have a voice.  She hoped to be allowed to cry, to be comforted, to be protected and to be safe. She longed to be forgiven, have her apology accepted, her life cherished and to be held. She wanted to be special and to be loved.

The Little Girl Within – do you know her? Perhaps we brush her aside or think she has grown up, avoiding her heart and her stories – our heart and our stories.   Truth is, I’m not always aware of her, but once in awhile, I find myself right back to where she was, remembering what happened to her. I can recall when she was disappointed, when she was afraid, when she was lonely and when she was hurt, and I can see why I sometimes fall quickly in to the same feeling now, and how it impacts who I am today.  But even more, I am beginning to realize how God is using it in my life for me, for others and for His glory.

These stories, sometimes small and momentary, other times huge, tragic and long lasting, contribute to walls that we build and masks that we hide behind. They shape our dreams and mold our insecurities.  They stir up desires in us.  They are part of the story that God is writing in our lives.

These experiences are different for each of us, just as the leaves on an autumn tree differ. They form our character, our personalities, and our lives, and are also a part of the Lord revealing Himself to us, and drawing us closer. I won’t pretend to understand it, but in them we can see the truths about the Lord, learning of Him and His unfailing love for us, as we willingly remember, reflect and ask Him to bring healing and hope to our hearts – healing and hope to others.

Over the next month or two, I will be sharing a few “Little Girl Within” stories of my own and I want to offer you the opportunity to share your stories.  Will you join me in taking a chance and influencing the hearts of others with part of the story God is writing for your life?

If you would like to share your “Little Girl Within” story and how it has impacted your heart today, please follow the below guidelines. I will notify you if your story will be published on my blog.

1.       Use only a story that is yours.  Share in 500 - 700 words part of your story, how it influenced your life today, and what God is teaching you about yourself and Himself through the story.

2.       E-mail your story to me here. Put your story in the body of the e-mail. If you would like, attach a picture of yourself when you were a little girl or now. You are also welcome to include a short bio.

3.      I am also happy to include a link to your website or blog. If you would prefer to be anonymous, I will respect that, and post your story under an alias name IE: “Carolyn,” with your approval.

I am looking forward to sharing this journey together, growing in relationship with one another and with the Lord. Spend time with Him remembering your Little Girl Within.   Ask the Lord to show you how precious you were to Him then and still are today – loved with an everlasting love, made with a purpose, a treasured possession.

One more thing … even if you do not submit a story, please stop by and read the stories of some of my readers.  Please leave them a comment;  I am certain they will be encouraged to see how the Lord uses their willingness to step out and share to make a difference in the lives of others. 

Any questions? Please don't hesitate to ask.

I'm Stepping Away from the Bucket

Last night I taught from the book of Mark --  Jesus Calms the Storm (Mark 4:35-41).  I love this story. It does not get old to me.  I taught it last winter to our morning women’s Bible study, so this was a redo for me at our evening women’s study, but God gave me fresh insight – insight in to some of my own issues.  I appreciate that about God. He does not tire of showing us more about Himself and about ourselves, again and again.  He is so creative!

In the story, a “furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped”  (vs.37). Sound familiar? I’ve had my fair share of storms, and much like the disciples appear to do, I panic.  I don’t know for sure, but I suspect that they were trying to manage the storm before they woke up Jesus. Perhaps with buckets, they bailed and bailed and bailed. Finally, beyond frustration, they were now fearful. They woke Jesus, saying, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” (vs. 38).

You see, what I realize about myself yesterday (and today and probably tomorrow), is that in the storms of life -- whether momentary and light or torrential, chaotic and long lasting – I tend to grab for my bucket.  I pick it up and I start to bail. I try to get myself out of the situation.  I try to take things in to my own hands and bucket full after bucket full, I frantically try to figure out the storm, manage the storm, and clear out the storm in order to stay afloat.  I hold on to my little bucket, in my little boat, trying to understand what is going on, solve the problems, and fix it. Sometimes, I even accuse Jesus of not caring!

BUT – I’m stepping away from the bucket.

I am going to be more intentional.

I’m not going to panic; I’m going to pray.

I’m not going to fear; I’m going to have faith.

I’m not going to bail; I’m going to believe.

I’m not going to doubt; I’m going to decide to trust the Lord.

I know it’s not going to be easy. Old habits die hard. I will admit, I’m getting a little better at it (God is working with me on this!), but from time to time, I find that I still get weary and worn out from worrying and trying to do it my way.  Bailing is exhausting, and it only leads to more problems, more fear, more panic.

 I am in need of the Lord’s help, that’s for sure, but you know what I’ve noticed?  When I stop bailing and call out to Him, He starts filling – filling me with what He wants me to know about Him – His power, His presence, His promises and His purposes.

I’m going to remember Who is in the boat with me, and trust Him for every detail. I’m going to step away from the bucket and step towards Jesus, grabbing hold of Him and resisting the temptation to grab a hold of my own ways. And when I do – I just know I’ll find that He’s been holding on to me all along, ready to comfort, guide and give me peace.

* How about you? 

We Never Know What God May Be Preparing Us For

I’m in the throes of training for an unusual race; actually, any race is unusual for me.  Although I do work-out for my health and for the sake of my arthritis, I usually do not compete in any races. I was a sprinter in high school, and needless to say, there are not any 200 meter dash events for a forty-six year old woman.  Distances longer than a couple of miles stress my back and I’m convinced that I am not built for endurance.

However, my trainer Dave had another idea, and I now find myself scratching my head and wondering what I got myself in to – a relay team member for  the 2010 Urbanathlon Chicago. 

The race includes both running and traversing obstacles – urban obstacles – like buses, cars and police barriers and the stairs at Soldier Field. There are monkey bars to swing across, tires to shuffle through and nets to crawl under. It is a nine mile race, broken up by six obstacle courses. I’ll be doing one-third of it.   I’m not sure what “leg” of the race I am competing in – but I either way – it is outside of the box for me. Way outside the box.

I’m preparing for the event under Dave’s guidance. He determines the workout, I am trying to follow his direction.  I’m not always crazy about what he asks of me, however, I do trust his expertise and deep down inside I know if I’m going to get stronger and finish the race, I need to prepare for it, and he knows what he is doing.

Training does not come easy for me. I tend to put up a fight. For instance, when I am weight training I always want to know what is next, asking Dave, “How much do I have to lift?  Did you add any more weight?  How many repetitions do I have to do? How far do I have to go?”

Recently, Dave responded to my barrage of repetitive questions, “Does it matter, Andrea? Does it matter whether I added more weight to the bar? Does that mean you’re not going to try?”

I’m sure I rolled my eyes as I stepped up to the bar, ducked under it and brought my shoulders up into the bar, lifting it off the rack.

 “Keep your mind focused on the muscle that is working.  Don’t think about how heavy it is.  If you focus on the weight, it is harder. Focus on what you have to do,” Dave reminded me.

 Wise words for me to focus on in life, too. Sometimes, I think the load in life is too heavy, as well. I weary of too many repetitions.  “Are you sure, Lord, that You know what You are doing?” I’ve asked Him a few thousand times. And yet, deep down inside I know that He does know the burdens that I can handle (with His help) and He knows how many times I need to lift it to get stronger – for in life, we are always preparing for something. God is always preparing us for something.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, as I move through my day, making choices and watching for what God may be doing in my life. He takes everything in our day and uses it to prepare us for what He has next. 

We may never know what God may be preparing us for – physically, emotionally or spiritually; perhaps it is even something out side of our comfort zone -- out of our box. He may be preparing us for an opportunity to serve Him, an opportunity to love someone and encourage them or an opportunity to trust Him during a trial. He may be training us for something little or it may be something big. It may be for our good or it may be for the good of others.

Ours is to follow His direction as He prepares us in every aspect of our day, keeping our eyes fixed on Him, the Author and Perfector of our faith, trusting Him in all things. Not always easy to do,  but He is the one with the ultimate expertise and knows just what He is doing. We can count on that.

*  What is God doing in your life today?
*  Are you willing to trust Him that what He is doing is making you stronger and more like Jesus?

A Morning Glory's Glory

In response to my previous post Except a Little Bit, a friend of wrote to me a blessed note and attached this picture of her morning glories. She granted me permission to share it.

Dear Andrea:

Here is a picture of two of my morning glories.  New blooms appear every morning - each bloom lasts for less than a day - closing to never open again.  Yet, every morning, there are brand new blooms to enjoy, reminding me of His mercies that are new every day and in every new day His glory is once again quietly, softly opened up within to "bloom" for Him just that day.  The days you serve Him big, like Tuesday, and the days you serve Him small, like today, are not differentiated in our God's economy - He still sees the beautiful blooms within your heart and the glory they bring to Him no matter the size of the day. 

Love, Your Friend.

I love what she says. It is full of wisdom and grace and I am compelled to ask myself:

Do I live each day with an awareness of His beauty in my life?

Do I trust Him enough to share that beauty with others or do I hide His beauty out of fear?

Do I shrivel up out of my insecurities?

Do I live humbled by His abundant mercies that are new every day and live in light of those both within my own heart and as I am in relationship with others?

Do I guard my heart so fiercely (not wisely) because of embarrassment, anger, resentment or bitterness – blocking out His beauty by the darkness?

Do I ignore His beauty reflected in me because I am so busy?

Or do I – will I -- allow God to open His glory in me – through me – despite my circumstances?  My pain?  My fears?  My own agenda? Despite whether I have big things or little things to offer in each day.  Will I believe I am His beloved and that He reveals and reflects beauty in me each day, and act in accordance to this truth?

I desire to be what He has called me to be, but I must pause and ponder – am I willing to be and allow Him to be in me?