Friendship – painter's daughter (a work in progress)

Helped

March 30, 2018by Pam Anderson8 Comments

I have to go there. To the petty. Because all to often, I find myself residing there. In a place called pettiness. My husband can attest to that fact, too. He even voiced it a few days back, “Pam, it was petty then and it’s still petty.”

And he was right. I was in a stew over something trivial and it assuredly was not worth the space it occupied in my brain.

And so, I’m letting that one go…

But other things are not so easy to release. Other issues can be so deeply ingrained, they become a part of who you are. It’s what happened with me long, long ago. And it’s the thing my God is helping me overcome even now. As I type out these words…

He helps me.

He comforts and encourages me.

When I find myself unable to comfort and help myself, He does what I cannot.

Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God. Psalm 20:7

Susan (my mother-in-law) said the above was her prayer for me. I didn’t like it. I wanted her to pray something else… like for God to give me the desires of my heart. Something along those lines. Instead, these were the words she lifted up to God.

For me.

When I asked her why, she couldn’t say. Today, though, I know exactly why the Spirit prompted her in that direction. Because this verse depicted me. In truth, I did not trust God. In Pam I trust could have been my motto for I trusted in what I considered my strengths (which is what horses and chariots represented). I depended on what I could bring to the table and the people that surrounded me.

These are the things that made me feel secure. These are the things in which I stood.

Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help,
    who rely on horses,
who trust in the multitude of their chariots
    and in the great strength of their horsemen,
but do not look to the Holy One of Israel,
    or seek help from the Lord. Isaiah 31:1

I’m going to get really honest here. It’ll show whoever chooses to read this just how petty I can be. But in order to get to the good part, I have to go here first. To the heart of my pettiness. Here goes…

I hate Facebook. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Because it has the power to bring me as low as I can be. That’s because I’m a weak woman. As weak as weak can be. And truth is, I have lived most of my adult life in a state of insecurity. When I first began writing and opened Facebook, I didn’t know that. But as time wore on, it became increasingly clear.

See, what I know today is that stats and comments and likes and loves have served as my horses and chariots. Numbers were the source of my strength. They made me feel secure. And when I first began writing and Facebooking, things were pretty good. All the numbers were good. High. I felt the love, thus I was secure in my standing.

But over time, numbers began to fall. Likes and comments ebbed and when they did, my security waned. Throw in a few pictures of some of your pals hanging out (sans you) and you’ll really stumble.

And so, this has been my experience with Facebook. For some, it’s a great tool. A wonderful way to reach out and connect. For me, it can cause me great angst and loneliness.

I told you… it was petty.

Oh, I am petty.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

Funny thing, God placed a desire inside me. Seems I want to help women. I want to go deep and connect spiritually. I crave community and friendship and long talks about things other than the weather. It’s what I set out to do when I came back home.

I became so busy trying to “help” women.

All the while, the pettiness was just below the surface. It was there the whole time I facilitated Bible studies and wrote stories and hosted an event or two. And it was there this past Summer when I planned to do “Helped,” an event for women.

But that’s when God finally got my attention. It was through the above verses, which happened to be the inspiration for helped. I seriously asked myself, “How has God comforted me?” Because I wanted to use that in helping others.

My revelation?

I hadn’t been helped. Not in the way I needed to be. And that’s when God said “STOP!” Everything. No more studies, no more activities, no more empty works. Not until I was still enough to receive the help He wanted to provide.

While we were still helpless [powerless to provide for our salvation], at the right time Christ died [as a substitute] for the ungodly. Romans 5:6

I realized I possessed a broken heart. It had been broken for most of my life, actually. And it was this broken heart that colored everything I did. It was the cause of my insecurity. It’s the thing that made me to be uncertain in my standing with people.

After much looking back, I know there are many factors that went into the breaking. However, one incident in particular was really piercing. It happened when I was seventeen.

My boyfriend had just dumped me. And that hurt. But what really hurt was my best friend left me home alone that weekend. The one who was supposed to love me the most did not show me love when I needed it. Instead, she spent the whole weekend with her previous best friend who’d come to visit. My friend didn’t even call to check on me. And though we had a standing “date,” spending ever single weekend together, this particular time, we did not.

It was her choice, not mine.

The message I received? I was not preferred. I was not wanted. I was second choice. I was not fun. I had nothing to bring to the table. Even my very best friend wanted to spend time with someone other than me.

Petty? Maybe. But I was devastated and suffered my first real depression that year. Weeks and weeks of lowness because I felt so undesirable.

And it’s this sense of rejection that has spurred me on at times. It’s driven me to do more and be more because maybe if I were fun enough, or funny enough, or smart enough, or deep enough, someone would prefer me. I’d be someone’s first choice.

Then, there’s Facebook. And if anything can open an unhealed wound like a broken heart, it can. It’s what it did to me…

Then the Lord said, “Behold, there is a place beside Me, and you shall stand there on the rock… Exodus 33:21

I mentioned God is helping me. This past month has been quite amazing, actually. Started when I had a dream one night. Over and over, I heard Him calling me: “Draw near. Draw near. Draw near.” I’d wake and go back to sleep, each time hearing those words.

Later, circumstances revealed to me God was pulling me in for an embrace. My Lord was hugging me.

And then, when I was reminded of my wound of rejection, He brought me back to 2 Corinthians 1:3-4. The inspiration for helped. I learned that the word “comfort” means to call near, to invite, to call for, desire. And to my soul, I know God was comforting me.

See, the world may not draw me near. And Facebook (at times) may paint a picture that says I’m not wanted or received. And I may feel slighted or ignored a time or two by someone I prefer. Loneliness may pervade my spirit. But God tells me through these verses I am desired. And He invites me into His world. And though I may not get a phone call from someone I want to hear from, He calls for me.

He calls me near.

Let us go right into the presence of God with sincere hearts fully trusting him. Hebrews 10:22

I love to read different versions of Scripture. Some read, “let us approach,” and others, “let us draw near.” Whatever version you choose, though, it’s all the same. We are all welcome in His presence. We are all able to draw near to God. He invites us to.

This is what God has done for me this past month. It’s how He’s helping me. He assures me I can boldly approach Him whenever I want. And I never have to wonder if He wants me around because He does. Moreover, my standing is secure with Him.

I am secure in Him.

Exodus 33:21 assures me of my security. Though that verse has always been meaningful to me in passing years, this week I realized there’s a treasure in that word place. Because it means “a standing.” And this is where I’ve stumbled so often.

I’ve never, ever been secure in my standing with people. It’s that old wound that causes me to doubt myself and others. It goes all the way back to the time I was seventeen…

Through Him we also have access by faith into this [remarkable state of] grace in which we [firmly and safely and securely] stand. Romans 5:2

You know, today is Good Friday. Today is the day we remember how our Jesus entered the tomb. And in remembering that, let us go back to why He had to do it.

It kind of goes to that trust issue… trusting in horses and chariots. Because before the Messiah came, people trusted in the law. They trusted in the tabernacle and then the temple. They trusted in their works and what they could bring to the table. This is what made their standing in God secure.

Adherence to the law.

Even then, only a select few could approach Him. There was an ark in the Holy of Holies hidden by a veil. Only the priests could draw near to the ark where the presence of God was.

But then, Jesus died on a cross. And when it was finished, the veil in the temple was ripped asunder. The picture? We have full access to the throne of God. Because of Jesus, we can draw near to God. Boldness to approach…

And we are secure in our standing with God because we stand on a rock. The Rock. We trust in what He did. Simply, we trust in Him.

And there’s nothing petty about that.

As to the petty, though, the place I often reside…

God calls me to leave that locale behind. The land of insecurity and doubt and broken-heartedness is no place for His daughter. He calls to me and says, “Leave it, child, and come.” He says, “Here is a place near me. Stand beside me.”

And this is not just for me. He calls out the same to each of us.

And I can attest to the truth. In standing there, beside Him, I find the help I’ve been seeking and striving for. I find the security I’ve been hoping to find through Facebook and activities.

So rather than trusting in chariots and horses a/k/a stats, comments, and likes from here on out, instead, I choose to trust Him.

I trust in the name of the Lord my God.

And this is how I am helped…

This is how God helps me.

The Soup Nazi

November 5, 2015November 5, 2015by Pam AndersonLeave a Comment

I cooked up a blog last week. Or began to. I thought I’d title it The God Thing because when I started writing, I thought I was doing the God thing. Turns out I was wrong.

See, last Wednesday was hectic from the get-go. I’d been out of state over the weekend, a long road trip on Monday, and a late night on Tuesday. So come Wednesday morn, I was tired. And behind. The icing on the cake came with a phone call from the school announcing a two hour delay. Problem was my child had already boarded the bus and I was unable to find out what would happen to him… would he be returned or go on to school?

So, without knowing the fate of my child, I put my other child down for a nap. That’s when I finally invested in some quality me time. I sat down on the potty and relished the silence. Alas, much too soon, I heard the deep roar of a bus engine and the whoosh of air brakes. Then a horn.

Honk, honk!

Seems Levi was home.

Thus, my moment on the toilet was abruptly called to a halt. I ran up the driveway sans shoes while frantically waving my hands. I’m here, I’m here, they indicated. Needless to say, I felt utterly rushed and not at all peaceful by the time 7:30 rolled around. And yet, my morning had just begun. I had so much to do…

The God thing

The God thing for me on Wednesday was to make soup. It was the last session of a women’s Bible study and we were to luncheon afterward. And though I knew I should get started immediately, I decided to meet with God instead. My daughter napped, my son watched a cartoon, and I went behind closed doors hoping to hear a word from God.

And so it must have been 8:15 when I started the soup. But I’d forgotten how long it took to peel potatoes. And wash and chop celery. And onions. And before I knew it, it was time to take Levi up the hill to the bus for his second boarding. And I had to scoop Annabelle out of the crib before I was ready to do so.

Before I knew it, it was 9:17. And the potatoes had just started to boil. And I was plying my daughter with Lil’ Crunchies to buy more time. See, I had to get the soup done by 9:45. And yet, there I stood in loungewear. And Annabelle was clad in a diaper only. And she was eating junk food for breakfast. Just so I could make soup to take somewhere else.

That’s when I had a defining moment. I thought no. No. I will not rush myself silly. I will not live in chaos. So I made a phone call. I apologized profusely but canceled last minute. I would not bring soup as I said I would. And for the briefest of moments, I felt good about my decision. Wise, even.

For I put my family first. And I met Annabelle’s needs. Because when the soup was ready, I spooned out a bowl for her and she loved it. “Ummm,” she said. Later, she ran around without clothes and was as free as a bird. Happy, even.

And so was I.

Briefly.

But all too soon, darkness entered my bones.

The Defining Moment

One who isolates himself pursues selfish desires; he rebels against all sound judgment. Proverbs 18:1

Truth is, I felt wise for only an hour or two. But then, regret darkened my soul. And guilt. But I couldn’t pinpoint why I felt the way I did. Because when I said no to the Bible study, I was sure I’d made the right choice. That I was doing the God thing by staying home with Annabelle.

But by the time nightfall settled, I had the nagging sense there was more to my decision. Deep down, something was lurking. The next morning, I discovered what it was.

On Thursday, Psalm 139:24-25 stood out on to me. Likely because I’d recently prayed it. Search me, oh God! Know my heart! See if there’s any offensive way in me. I voiced the words aloud as I wanted to know if there was something separating me from God. Because I’d been feeling a barrier. Like something was blocking me. Turns out there really was…

It was me.

Proverbs 18:19 enlightened me to a problem. It reads, “An offended brother is harder to reach than a fortified city. And quarrels are like bars of a fortress.” So my realization was this… An offense kept me from attending Wednesday’s study. A hectic morning was simply an easy out. An excuse so I wouldn’t have to deal with the real issue. My heart issue. For I was offended.

It happened at the previous Bible study. After sharing a bit of my testimony, one woman gave me wise counsel and I felt a blaze erupt inside. Instead of welcoming her advice, I resented it. And because I allowed the remark to become offensive, I became defensive. I tried to justify my feelings as a barrier went up. Then I shut down. And shut out.

One week later, this is what I held to. An offense simmered and stewed on a low boil. And ultimately, it led me to withhold what I could. I withheld me along with my soup. A wall erected between me and the women I love. Isolated and harder to reach than a fortified city. An internal quarrel were the bars of my fortress.

Reality? Saying no to chaos last Wednesday was not the defining moment. That was a lie. Because the truth came on Thursday when I realized how tightly I held to my offenses. And how it caused me to lose my grip on what matters most… relationship with people. And relationship with God.

No Soup for You!

I used to watch Seinfeld every night. Oh, I bet I’ve seen every episode at least four times. One of my favorites involved the soup Nazi. This man served up the most delicious of soups however, he was not very nice. Rigid. And in order to get a serving, customers had to walk just right and talk just so. And if they deviated from his rules just the slightest, he’d withhold. “No soup for you!”

So this becomes my ultimate defining moment. For this is a picture of me. I am no different than the soup Nazi. You better walk my walk and talk my talk. Or else! No soup for you! If you look at me funny or say something that doesn’t sit quite right, I’m liable to take offense. Skin way too thin. This is what God wants me to know about myself. He wants me to see I allow myself to be offended. Way too easily.

And this is what fills my heart.

Offenses. Little ones. Big ones. From last week, and the week before, and the week before that. All the way back. Burned on, encrusted offenses. I swear, I’ve been mad for years. But see, eventually what’s simmering underneath shows. It comes to the surface.

What’s your Stew?

Oh, my potato soup was pretty darn good that first day. It even tasted good on Thursday. But by Friday, after the third reheating, it turned dark. Jason stirred it around and asked about the color. “Why’s it so dark?” Problem was some of the burned soup made it’s way to the top as I stirred. It darkened the light. Just like with me.

My heart has been darkened by offenses. I’ve held things underneath where no one can see them but they cause rifts. Separation. And eventually, something stirs up the burnt pieces. And as blobs of darkness mix with the light, every part of me becomes darkened. Dimmed. Light snuffed out.

Funny thing is, I was recently asked a pertinent question. “What’s your stew?” It was nearly two months ago when I heard it but I’d forgotten all about it. Beth Moore asked through the video, “What are you stewing in?” What are you holding tighter than God?” And yesterday, God prompted my memory. He caused me to look at my notes.

And there I found it. The question reiterated…

“What’s your stew?”

Mine? It’s potato soup. I cooked it up a couple of weeks back and I decided to hold it. I held it back along with a string of offenses and internal quarrels. And today I know it’s keeping me from life. Bars of a fortress built upon thin skin. Separating me from every good thing. From fellowship and connection. With women. But more importantly, from God.

Holding offenses keeps me from God.

This has been my stew.

Today, I trade in my stew for something better. By letting go of my offenses, I tear down the walls of my fortress. I let go and place my trust in Him. In what He calls me to do. I allow myself to be vulnerable. And approachable. And teachable.

And this is the God thing I started to write about. The defining moment. But it had nothing to do with me staying home to avoid chaos. And tending to Annabelle’s needs. I wanted it to be that and if it where, it would have been okay. But instead, it was about my potato soup. And withholding it.

And withholding me…

But today I say no. No more shall I rely on the bars of a prison composed of offenses. I thought they kept me safe. Instead, they simply kept me inside. Isolated. So I break through the chains and thrust open the door. I demolish the barrier that keeps me from grabbing hold of what God wants me to. Because what He has for me is on the outside. Beyond my walls.

Thus, I venture out again…

I will say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust. Psalm 91:2

Eight is Enough

September 9, 2015November 6, 2015by Pam Anderson2 Comments

I try to stay out of the political arena and tend to steer clear of current affairs. Because deep down, I’m a big coward. I want to keep everyone’s approval so I avoid hot topics.

Moreover, when it comes to verbal debate, I usually lose. If an argument presents and I disagree, I keep quiet. Because my mouth never seems to have my back. Though words tumble around in my brain, they rarely make it to my mouth. So I remain voiceless on the most important issues of the day.

However, this morning I saw something as I worked. And feel I cannot keep silent. Take a look…

These are my file labels. There’s a thin blue line on them and that’s a term I hadn’t heard before this week. The Thin Blue Line. It refers to the police force. According to Wikipedia, the blue is used to symbolize law enforcement as the protectors of civilians from criminals. The blue, which separates the black lines of public and criminals, represents the police force.

Speak up, judge righteously, and defend the cause of the oppressed and needy. Proverbs 31:9

Thanks to the world wide web, I learned the idea behind this graphic. Basically, law enforcement is what stands between regular citizens and the violence and victimization by criminals. In essence, they’re our shield. Our defenders. They’re who we call if we find ourselves in trouble.

And yet, the police finds itself in an unusual predicament today. Our defenders are under attack. Shot by the very people they serve and protect. And what I find absolutely incredible is our President remains silent on this matter. And his silence is deafening. It says… I don’t have your back.

It appears that those who cover the backs of American citizens don’t have the support of our nation’s leader. If I’m wrong about this, please, correct me. If our president has voiced concern over this issue, enlighten me. I’d really like to know his stance on these police shootings.

Because unless I’m mistaken, he’s not given any indication that he stands with the men and women who comprise the thin blue line. Not even in the wake of EIGHT shootings within one month’s time. And I find this astounding.

Then many will take offense, betray one another and hate one another. Many false prophets will rise up and deceive many. Because lawlessness will multiply, the love of many will grow cold. Matthew 24:10-12

On September 1, I jotted down, “Eight is enough.” I was thinking of the old TV show. A lot of siblings. But then my thoughts morphed to friendship. Would eight be enough to satisfy my needs. To fill the void I sometimes feel. Would eight women be enough to support me… and cover my back.

But today, God led me down another rabbit hole altogether. It’s a hole called offense. Because truth is when I wrote down eight is enough, I was offended. I felt slighted by something silly and it caused me to want to inflict pain. And my method of harm is called withholding. I shut down and close up within myself.

Thus, I stumble. And my friends stumble. Because I no longer have their back.

But today, I hear God loud and clear. He says, “Eight is enough!” He says it to me and He says it to our nation. Eight lost lives is more than enough.

And why were these innocents shot? Slaughtered in cold blood? Because someone chose to be offended. Someone was filled with so much hate and violence, they lashed out by doling out evil. They murdered living souls. And in the name of offense, they feel justified by their evil deeds.

But this is outrageous. It jars me loose from my inward reveries. And it causes my blood to boil.

I wonder, what can be done? God help us all.

Therefore, let us no longer criticize one another, but instead decide not to put a stumbling block or pitfall in your brother’s way. Romans 14:13

I looked up offended in the concordance today and was surprised by what I found. Among other definitions, it means to put a stumbling block in the way, upon which another may trip and fall; to entice sin; or to cause a person to begin to distrust and desert one whom he ought to trust and obey. This was a holy moly moment for me.

Because this is taking place on American soil. Right now. People no longer trust policeman. Our protectors have become the bad guys. And this ought not to be! No doubt, there are bad cops out there. Just as there’s corrupt personnel in every other field. But does that give us the right to take our guns and snuff out God-given life? Or eradicate an entire career field? Just because we’re offended by something that happened to someone else.

No.

No it doesn’t.

And yet, I’m not seeing much support on this issue from the POTUS. I reiterate, please correct me if I’m wrong. If President Obama has taken the stance that he is in full support of our law enforcement, that he has their backs, then I must retract my words. It’s just that if he has, I’ve missed it…

So then, we must pursue what promotes peace and what builds up one another. Romans 14:19

Look at my boy here… oh, he melts my heart. And he enrages me. But in the end, I’m like butter in his hands. I love him so. And I ache for him. Because he is so much like me. He’s easily offended. He doesn’t handle teasing well. Oh, he can dish it out but if you jab back, he gets so bent out of shape.

No doubt, he’s an easy mark. Because when you wear your heart on your sleeve, more teasing follows. I should know.

It happened to him yesterday. After Mom and I teased him, he stomped off to a corner and sat down… head in his lap. He advised us we were bullying him. And though I don’t think that’s what we were doing, his remark gives me pause today.

Bullying is what he said. And in my humble estimation, I’d have to say that’s what’s occurring in our country today. Our police force is being bullied. By threatening calls such as the one to Aurora Colorado’s 911:

“It is time that you guys know we are no longer playing around with the police departments,” the anonymous caller said. “Aurora and Denver, we are about to start striking fear shooting down all cops that we see by their selves. This will go for the sheriff’s department. You guys are evicting innocent people. Let us catch you by yourself and it’s shots fired.”

But unlike what our kids hear at school, leadership doesn’t seem to practice what’s taught. Or preached.

And so I just have to wonder, what is happening? Has the whole world gone mad?

If anyone says, “I love God,” yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For the person who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. And we have this command from Him: the one who loves God must also love his brother. 1 John 4:20-21

God speaks in such diverse ways. He prepares my heart long before I know where He’s leading me. Like last week when He whispered, “Eight is enough.” It began as a mere thought but as the week progressed, layers were added. And then, I heard a newscaster last night. The report made mention that eight police officers have lost their lives within a month.

That’s when I understood God’s deeper meaning.

He says eight lives are too many. Furthermore, God says enough.

More alarmingly, though, I understand God’s meaning to me. Personally. Because I can be just the same as those who are at the other end of my pointing fingers. No different than the offended who fired shots. I do the same. Just in the reverse.

A brother, or sister, offends me by not noticing me or my effort. Or a word is spoken – too easy to misunderstand. So, I withhold myself. I withhold kindness and encouraging words, smiles and eye contact. I plain old withhold me. All of me.

But God says, eight is enough. Plain old, “Enough!”

He tells me, His daughter, “Enough of that, Pam.”

“A friend is always loyal, and a brother is born to help in time of need.” Proverbs 17:17

Hurting people hurt people. I’ve seen it more than once this past week. And today I realize hurting people are those highly offended. They’re the ones stumbling in the dark. And sadly, they pick up guns and shoot other people.

The hard truth is, they need someone to have their back. Just as I do. They need to be part of something bigger than themselves. Woven into the brotherhood or sisterhood of God’s people. Unity is required. Not division. It’s just our country has gotten so divisive. Splintered.

Yes, it’s true. Hurting people need a support system. And the shelter of a good friend.

This is what every person needs.

Those who are offended. And those who offend.

“You have heard that it was said to our ancestors, Do not murder, and whoever murders will be subject to judgment. But I tell you, everyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment. And whoever says to his brother, ‘Fool!’ will be subject to the Sanhedrin. But whoever says, ‘You moron!’ will be subject to hellfire. So if you are offering your gift on the altar, and there you remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift.” Matthew 5:21-24

I’ve been mulling over “eight is enough” for a solid week now. With regard to my friends but also, with regard to sleep. And my daughter’s pacifiers. See, she’s been having a rough time. Ear infection. Teething. Sleepless nights. So I tell myself, six is enough. Six hours of sleep should hold me.

But that’s dwindled to four or five past few nights. So as far as sleep goes, I know I need more. Six will do in a crunch, but eight would be better. A good night’s sleep.

For now, though, I resign myself to the fact I’ll have less. Because Annabelle is restless. And when she cries out, I go to her. But sometimes, her paci is no where to be found. In the darkness, I drop to my knees frantically in search of finding that which calms her. A dim nightlight to guide me. Usually, I find it under the crib. Or hidden amongst her blanket.

We were down to only two pacifiers last week. I swear, it seemed like we never had them both at the same time. One was always missing. So Jason brought home extra. That way we’d have backup. We covered Annabelle’s back by way of five pretty pacifiers.

I’d say that’s enough. Five will do. At least with regard to pacifiers…

But then, there are my friends. My sisterhood. Though all too often I find myself in lonely places, truth is I do have them. I have my girls. And if only I’d cry out, they’d have my back in a hot minute. All I have to do is ask.

And just as I run to Annabelle under the cover of darkness, they’d do the same for me. Again, all I have to do is ask.

I just need to open my mouth. And speak up.

Two are better than one,
    because they have a good return for their labor:
If either of them falls down,
    one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
    and has no one to help them up.
Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
    But how can one keep warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered,
    two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken. Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

Today, God sets before me a choice. I can be offended or not. But experience proves one offers only isolation. The other, shelter. One provides coldness but the other offers warmth. Harm or help. Stand or stumble. Offend or be offended. That’s my choice.

So I ask for God’s help. That I’d be wise enough to not hide away within perceived offenses. Because He told me already… eight is enough!

Help me, God, to not withhold myself when I feel let down. When expectations go unmet. Because as far as friends go, I need them. Two are better than one. And three, well, that’s even better. For I don’t want to do this thing called life alone.

Would eight be enough? Probably. But in reality, eight friends are probably more than I can handle…

I don’t want to spread myself too thin, now do I?

A man of too many friends comes to ruin, But there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother. Proverbs 18:24

straight A’s

September 3, 2015September 3, 2015by Pam Anderson4 Comments

I am but a child. A silly, little girl. At forty-two. How can this be?? Incredibly, I find I haven’t advanced much beyond my primary school days. No. Every single thing that mattered then still matters today. Like grades. Because at forty-two, I discover I’m still striving to be a straight A student.

Recently, I felt as I did in first grade. Our teacher, Ms. Wittle, would walk slowly around the classroom and squat by each desk to check our work, red colored pencil in hand. She peered over my paper but oh, there was an error. And then another. So no, I didn’t receive my reward. A sticker to indicate a job well done.

Instead, I got this…

Oh, how my insides churned as Ms. Wittle looked over Martha’s paper. Because apparently, she was a good girl. She did very well, indeed. I can still see the smile my classmate was favored with and hear the crinkling of the paper as the sticker was lifted away. Martha won the day.

It’s this memory that presses into me today. As vivid as the day it occurred some thirty-six years ago. The recollection was burned into a heart that felt as heavy as lead. Because that day I felt small. Inadequate. Insecure. And unacceptable. Basically, unlikeable. This is how the red lines etched upon my paper made me feel. And this is how I felt this week.

And how silly this is! Incredulous that in the midst of random police shootings and a loved one’s struggle to simply live comfortably, I cry over my report card. I agonize over the grades I receive in the school of life.

Last night I had hot tears. I ached inside. It came from the pit of loneliness. As I lay next to my husband, tears spurted. He comforted me and asked me what was wrong no less than four times. Because I didn’t want to say it. I know how dumb it sounds. How trivial. And yet, it’s real. My hurt is real.

Finally, I uttered what lie in my heart. I told him I want to be first. I want to be the one who’s someone else’s first choice. And unlike my last cry fest in which he chastised me for my luxury complaints, this time he held me instead. He told me there are three people in our home who pick me first.

And though my husband’s tender words soothed my festering wound, they didn’t eliminate the poison that pollutes my soul…

A man of too many friends comes to ruin, But there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother. Proverbs 18:24

Growing up, I always had one good friend. Kindergarten through third was Jennifer. I loved her so as she shone in my eyes. Pretty and popular. And strong. In second grade, we had the opportunity to try and lift a fireman’s oxygen container. Tony told me no way could I do it, but Jennifer could. And she did. Me? I struggled but managed to lift it a few inches off the floor.

Fourth grade was Hannah. She wore a purple Hang Ten mini skirt. Definitely a leader as all us girls flocked to her. Fifth I had two best friends. Jennifer and I were reunited and Sarah came into my life. And as time wore on, others drifted in and out of my life. But the point is, there was always one. One special friend. Or two. Really close. Like a sister.

We knew everything there was to know about each other. Colors. TV. Music. Boys. And truth is, that’s what I long for today. I want a woman who knows me from the inside out. How I take my coffee. How I feel just by the look on my face. A woman who can drop by anytime without having to call first. A woman who will choose me first. Every time.

I want. To be. First. First pick. First place. Just first.

He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that He might come to have first place in everything. Colossians 1:18

I picked up a book I hadn’t read for over two weeks this morning. The above verse is what I found. Mind you, I’d already logged in my journal how I wanted to be 1st choice. But lo and behold, I discovered the position is already taken. Or it should be. First place belongs to Jesus. He should be my choice.

Amazing.

So here’s the thing about life. And striving for those straight A’s. See, there is no one person who can give me a passing grade in every single category. No friend (no matter how good she may be) can give me everything I crave: approval, acknowledgement, accolades, affirmation, assurance and acceptance.

Oh, she may give me a piece of approval here and a slice of affirmation there. But she is not God. I cannot look to her or her red pencil for acceptance. Because she is not capable of affirming me like I hope she can. Or will. And like me, she may even be trying for an “A” herself.

Sigh.

“Great Expectations” keeps coming at me. The title. Charles Dickens’ book. I think God is trying to show me my expectations are too high. I am placing people too high on a pedestal. The danger there is they’re likely to fall off. Because no one can stay that high. And the first time they let me down, I’ll end up pushing them down. Off that pedestal. And when that happens, no one gets an “A”. Or the gold star. Or the smiley face.

It’s true. I am a lonely woman. But I keep looking in the wrong places for fulfillment. It’s not one woman who will fill all my emptiness. It’s one Man. Jesus came to be first. And I’m His first choice. For Isaiah 43:10 tells me I am chosen to know Him. Exodus 33:17 assures me He knows my name. Thus, I find acknowledgement.

By 2 Timothy 2:15, I know I am His approved worker. I receive a pat on the back from my God through Matthew 25:21. Hebrews 10 assures me I have boldness to enter His presence at any time. No phone call necessary. Revelation 3:11 tells me if I hold on to what I have, my crown awaits. And if I can just persevere… if I can fight the good fight and finish this race, I’ll get that blue ribbon after all.

And so, through God’s very word, I find the acceptance I so desire. And affirmation this little girl so desperately seeks. My God squats down beside me at my desk. He takes out His red colored pencil and gives me the grade I’ve been looking for. Not only is it an A, but it’s an A+. That’s what my Teacher has done for me today. And the tears flow down my cheeks.

But you are not to be called ‘Rabbi,’ for you have one Teacher, and you are all brothers. Matthew 23:8

Yes, I am just a child. A silly little girl. At forty-two. Inconceivable.

But despite my shortcomings, God assures me of truth. His truth. I may fall pitifully short in the school of life, but in His grade-book, I’m a straight A student.

Perfect in His eyes.

The Lesson of Rocky Raccoon

October 24, 2014by Pam AndersonLeave a Comment

“Rocky Raccoon, Rocky Raccoon, he was a fool unto himself. And he would not swallow his foolish pride…” Paul McCartney

I’ve been thinking about something quite a bit lately. Or more accurately, I’ve been thinking about someone. And through ruminations of her, the tune of Rocky Raccoon came to mind. This morning, though, I realized I didn’t even know the lyrics. So I googled it. And after watching a video of the Beatles, I just about fell over. Well, I would have fallen over if I hadn’t already been down. See, I’ve been feeling pretty low. And therein lies the significance of this song. At least to me. In my eyes, the lesson of Rocky Raccoon is how he fell down… pride going before his fall. But more importantly, it’s how Rocky would manage to get back on his feet. See, there was a man named Dan, who stole Rocky’s woman. But rather than swallow his pride by letting things go, Rocky planned to shoot his rival. However, he’s the one who ended up on the floor. Rocky collapsed. And the thing that could restore his life? Why, it was a Bible left by Gideon. The Bible would help with Rocky’s revival.

Your word is a lamp for my feet and a light on my path. Psalm 119:105

I actually have a Gideon’s Bible. And though I didn’t open the cover of a Bible for years, eventually I did. And as time wore on, I began to love the words inside. The above verse is one of my favorites, comforting in that God’s word is a lamp and a light for my feet. And ironically, I just wrote about my son finding his feet. But not long after, I discovered it’s not my son’s feet I need to worry about after all. In reality, it’s my own feet that need help. For Levi’s not the one who stumbled, I have. I’ve fallen down and it seems I can’t get up. And though it may be true God’s word lights my path, the thing is I have to choose to go the way He directs. But for some time now, I’ve refused. As always, pride took precedence and preceded my fall. Like Rocky, I just didn’t want to swallow it down. I even voiced aloud, “I don’t want to take the high road.” And so, belligerently, I didn’t.

Pride is surely one of my pitfalls. And when I think back to the shy girl I once was, I’m amazed I can be that way now. So arrogant. So self-righteous. And that’s how I felt Monday. See, after writing, I always feel good. Purposeful. And after meeting with a ladies group Tuesday evening, I felt even higher. However, my demeanor changed within hours of returning home. And by Wednesday morning, darkness fully set in. One, my writing didn’t elicit the response I expected. In fact, someone quite close to me called to advise me. Or shall I say counsel me. And later, I was led to Hagar of the Old Testament. Her story so much like mine in that she was prideful for she looked down on someone. And when she ran away from home, the Angel of the LORD asked her two questions as she journeyed through the desert… Where have you come from and Where are you going? I felt God asked the same of me. My reply? Pride. As always, coming from pride, and more importantly… I wasn’t going anywhere. Because pride tripped me up, I was stalled in my journey.

Oh, there’s more to Hagar’s story. See, she trod the desert once more. The second time with her son, only he was in trouble. Ishmael lay dying under a tree but Hagar had nothing to offer him. She herself was low. At her most desperate hour, God appeared to her. He said, “Get up, help the boy up, and sustain him…” And so yesterday, I heard God loudly. Clearly. And He was firm. He told me to get up! Because as long as I remained down, I couldn’t help myself. Much less anyone else. And my medicine? The thing that would restore my health? Pride was my pill. Unless I choked it down, I would never be able to stand. And if I couldn’t stand, how in the world could I help another to?

Therefore confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. James 5:16

You know, I call this blog the Truth about God & me. And I hope to do just that… be truthful. And though I write hoping to lift up others, most of the time I think the words are for my own benefit. For I see the truth through writing. But today, I can’t help but wonder if there can be too much truth. Because I’m going to write about that someone I’ve been thinking about. She’s someone I love. Fact is, I just love women. I want to be around them and I want to help them. Honestly, I fancy God will use me in women’s ministry someday. I believe He’s the One who placed the desire within me. In fact, it’s why I felt so good Tuesday night. Because I’m leading a women’s Bible study, I felt like I was finally moving forward with God… that someday was in reach. And yet within hours of returning home, darkness blinded me. Today I know why. See, it’s that woman I love. Because despite our building up a rock solid friendship through the course of many years, it seems the foundation has been shaken. And though we shared everything for so long, now, we hardly speak at all. The weird thing is, neither of us has said anything or acknowledged a conflict. And yet, it’s there. I feel it… tension. Is it real? Or is the wall that separates us imaginary and constructed only in my mind? So, for me – a woman who desires to be used by God in women’s ministry – this just doesn’t make sense. Even more so, it makes me hypocritical. Because if I have such love for women, why not her? Why can’t I just pick up the phone…

“But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,’ is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell. “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift.” Matthew 5:22-24

Fact is, I’ve refused to budge. In fact, I’ve closed my heart to her over something silly. I feel justified in something I did even though I’m pretty sure it hurt her feelings. But is that ever okay? And rather than acknowledge it and talk about it, a wall was erected. That’s why I said… I don’t want to take the high road. No, instead, I chose pride. I trod the dark path. And so, I fell. But there is a lamp. God’s light seeps through and I see what I’ve done. I tried to serve Him Monday and Tuesday, but today I know that I can’t do that. I can’t offer Him a gift when there’s something between me and my friend. And so, the verses above light my path. He shows me the way I have to travel if I want to move forward. It’s my choice. I can take the high road, which leads to life. Or the low road, which leads to death. For that’s exactly what my prideful path is leading to… the death of a friendship. Something, or someone, has got to change… And today I know that’s me. Today the hardness of my heart has been breached and light spills in. And I so I swallow my pill. And more than anything, I want to be reconciled to my sister. I long for harmony in our friendship once more.

For He is our peace, who made both groups one and tore down the dividing wall of hostility. Ephesians 2:14

Illumination began this week. It started with my son. And consistent with how God teaches me, He led me through my children. First, Levi’s little feet led to my own stumbling size nines. And then, there’s my baby girl… Annabelle. Today I thought how happy she is when she spends time on the back side of the house. See, that’s where the morning light streams in. Oh, how she loves to lay on our bed or on her changing table cooing and smiling in the bright sun. But on the front half of the house, where we spend most of our time, it’s dark. So much so, there’s always a lamp or two on. In fact, Levi so loves lamplight, he’ll turn on three or four when he’s home. And finally, between the dark and the light of my home is a wall… a load bearing wall. And this particular wall seemed a revelation to me this morning. It leads me back to Rocky Raccoon.

You know, the woman I’ve written about likes Rocky Raccoon. Years ago, she picked it for us to sing at karaoke. Back then, we stood side by side. Arm in arm. We were best of friends. But recently, it feels as if there’s a wall between us. And all this? Well, it’s my attempt to knock it down. I want to replace a wall of hostility with another kind of wall… a load bearing wall. One we can construct around the two of us as we stand side by side once more. A wall we can build together strong enough to bear the heavy weight of life. And a wall that will keep her and I in the light of God’s word, while keeping darkness at bay.

And so, may I apply the lesson of Rocky Raccoon. It’s true he fell, but he had Gideon’s Bible. God’s word would bring about his revival. And there’s hope in that word. For revive means to come back to life. To live again. To be quickened. To be restored to health. And though my pride knocked me down for a time, I won’t stay there. And though I’ve been clinging to the dark, light beckons me forward. Because today, I want to live. I want to be healthy. And in order for that to happen, our friendship must be restored. It must be revived. It has to! And so, I choose life and swallow my pill… I choke down pride. And that’s when it happens. I’m able to rise to my feet. That’s when I ask for her forgiveness. Because I want healing. And you know what? I think she does, too.

Oh, the ways of God. And oh, how He illuminates what He wants me to see. From my children. To His word. And yes, even through Rocky Raccoon… that man who was a fool unto himself. But see, Rocky had hope. For he had Gideon’s Bible.

My son, pay attention to my words;
listen closely to my sayings.
Don’t lose sight of them;
keep them within your heart.
For they are life to those who find them,
and health to one’s whole body.
Guard your heart above all else,
for it is the source of life. Proverbs 4:20-23

http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=rocky+raccoon+the+beatles&qpvt=rocky+raccoon+the+beatles&FORM=VDRE#view=detail&mid=85F8870F11BB5489C83185F8870F11BB5489C831

Golden

June 3, 2013by Pam AndersonLeave a Comment

I used to have a good friend named Carmen, and I loved her so. When I was in the Air Force, we spent nearly every day together for the span of a year and a half (or more). But the time came for her to move on, and we decided to keep in touch via journals. We bought identical books, and were to fill them and mail them to each other monthly. And we did well for quite some time. But eventually, as time and space grew too deep and wide, the journals stopped. Our paths moved in different directions not to intersect again, and today, I don’t know where she is. It was while I was stationed in Korea that I received her journal, and inside the cover she had written:

Make new friends,
but keep the old.
One is silver,
the other is gold.

I was delighted, and shared the poem with my new friend, Cheyenne. She laughed because I wasn’t familiar with the lines, as she knew them well. I believe she said she sang the tune in girl scouts. As with Carmen, Cheyenne and I became tight. I loved her, too. She was my roommate in Korea, and we shared everything. And when the time came to move on, as with Carmen, we stayed in touch for a while. She even made it to my wedding, and I visited her once down south. But alas, the ever widening time and space eventually divided us, and today, I don’t know where she is.

Early in marriage, I made two more friendships that were dear to me. One, my sister-in-law. We had so much in common and connected almost at first. I’m sure you know what I mean… when you meet someone and know immediately that you’re going to be the best of friends. It was my first weekend with her that we had to share a bed, but we stayed up till the early hours sharing story after story. That was seventeen years ago. The other friendship was with my cousin. Although we grew up playing together, it was after the Air Force that we became like sisters. She was another that I shared everything with, staying up till the wee hours of the morning swapping story after story. She was another that I immediately connected with. And those connections were priceless to me… even golden.

And so today, I find myself sorrowful. Because time and space is ever widening. Phone calls that used to occur multiple times a week have dwindled to once or twice a month, if that. And I feel like a piece of me is gone. Because they’re gone. See, I love these women, and yet for some reason, I am separated from them. There’s silence. And it’s no one’s fault… there are schedules, and events, and sicknesses, and before you know it, distance has inserted a wedge into something that was priceless and golden… something you thought you’d never lose. But I feel as if I’ve lost my priceless friends. And I miss them. I feel alone.

In the Bible, we read of a friendship. It was one of those golden relationships that neither time nor space could sever. And it was King David who had a such a golden friend… his name was Jonathan. The only problem was that Jonathan happened to be King Saul’s son. And enmity had grown between Saul and David, because David was to be the next king. Saul lost God’s favor, but David gained it. Because of that, Saul grew to resent David… so bitter was Saul that he even tried to kill David. But that was not so with his son, Jonathan. Quite the opposite took place. The King James version states it like this:

Now when he had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul. 1 Samuel 18:1

Another version of the Bible says that Jonathan committed himself to David. And that’s just what a good friendship is… it’s a commitment. A good friend will fiercely protect you and stand up for you when someone says the wrong thing. She will even place her life in danger for your sake. A good friend is your shelter and hiding place – she’s who you can turn to when you’re feeling blue. She’s the one whose doorstep is most welcoming, whose couch is most comforting, and whose hug is most warming. Her cup of refreshment never empties. And it’s that type of friendship that David and Jonathan shared. Oh, how David grieved for him when he died:

I grieve for you, Jonathan my brother. You were such a friend to me. Your love for me was more wonderful than the love of a woman (for me). 2 Samuel 1:27

Today, I feel sad. Because it’s here in the sounds of silence that I miss those who were so dear to me. It’s here alone that I wish I had my dear friends close. And so it’s here that I lamented to God, and told Him how I felt. I told Him that I’m lonely and that I need a friend. Because those golden treasures are hard to come by today. See, when you move back home as an older woman, the patterns of life have already been set. And they were set without you in them. Peoples’ lives are already in order, and thus, it’s hard to insert oneself into a life that already has a steady flow… And it’s so hard to meet another. Because, although new friends are good… it’s the old ones who are golden.

God has an answer for this. See, when it comes to old friends, He is my oldest. He is the most faithful and the most loyal. Because He knew me before time began. He is the One who knit my soul within the womb of my mother, and so He knows me best. And it’s to His doorstep I can run when I’m feeling blue. Because He will always be available… He is the One who will never leave me nor forsake me. And His cup of refreshment will never run dry. He tells me so through His word:

Your faithful love reaches to heaven, Your faithfulness to the skies! LORD, You preserve me and it’s Your faithful love that is so valuable. It’s in the shadow of Your wings that I can take my refuge. I can be filled from the abundance of Your house and drink from Your refreshing stream… You are the One who leaves the light on for me. (Taken from Psalm 36)

It’s true, I may be lonely today. And it’s true I may be separated from old friends by space and time and schedules. And if I want to be honest, I may even be wallowing in the sounds of silence. But the truth is, I have the best of friends. His name is God, and He is my Maker. And as far as relationships go, why, this one is golden.