Humbled - and then some. . .

As many of my dear friends have ventured publicly with their personal journeys of faith, I, too, have found the need to exhale, literally and figuratively.  I used to be quite the writer when I was young.  I attribute that gift to my marketing director of a father who also wrote professionally for Photography Magazine in the 1980's, as well as other publications during his lifetime.  He encouraged my love of the written word, both reading it and expressing myself through it.  I often found myself at odds with my high school English teachers because I refused to write in the "box-paragraph" fashion.  Praise God that my 8th grade English teacher, Mrs. Caines, encouraged me and I never gave up the fight.  However, if I were to get out those old journals and writing assignments, I think I'd find a totally different person in those words.  For, "the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!" (2 Corinthians 5:17 [CEV]).  And, so, here I am, trying again, to pen (digitally ink?) my thoughts as I venture down the pathway of life.  Oh, what an interesting adventure this shall be!

I used to write dark stories, with interesting twists and turns.  It was a way for me to express my teen angst and depression.  Filled with similes and metaphors, I explored the deepest parts of my heart and soul and often found nothing but despair.  I don't remember when I stopped writing.  It may have been sometime before or after my dad's illness took a serious turn for the worse.  He lived with Lou Gehrig's disease for 8 long years.  I was 17 years old when he was diagnosed.  Talk about a life-changing event! I know I went through  a lot during those years, but that's for another post.

You see, I can no longer write the way I used to write.  While I may still maintain some form of the proverbial gift of gab, as my father would say, I don't write from the dark place of fear, despair, depression and hopelessness.  Don't get me wrong - I still feel those things.  But my reality is far cry from what I experienced - and believed to be reality - before I turned 25.

I'm going to turn 41 this month.  I have a husband, three children (2 [step]children, and an almost 5 year old) and 3 fur babies (my three cats).  I have suffered trial after trial after trial.  But, 15 years ago, my life changed forever.  I mean - CHANGED.  

Two significant events occurred 15 years ago.  The first being my father terminated life support on January 5, 1998.  It was a terrible loss for me as I was so close to my dad and I am so much like him.  It was probably one of the three most terrible days in my life.  

HOWEVER - 10 days prior to that, my life REALLY, and I mean REALLY changed.  I gave my life to Jesus.  I sat alone in my future-husband's parent's spare room, just after midnight on Christmas morning, and decided it was time to count the cost.  Cost?  What cost?  I had to decide if being a fourth generation Jewess was all it was cracked up to be.  I had to decide if my life was going to continue downhill or if the hope and life I saw offered to me through  my fiance and his family was worth giving up my heritage.  What would I lose?  My family?  It was already falling apart.  My dignity?  My independence?  My self-worth?  Did I even possess any of those things in any measurable amount?  What did my life as it was, have to offer me?  All I could think of was that there was something bigger than me out there.  Not just something, Someone, and that Someone loved me and was going to take care of me when my father breathed his last breath.  For years, I had been drawn to Him, never knowing what or how or why.  Yet, I knew I needed Him.  It was worth whatever "cost" I had to pay.  Whatever shunning, humiliation, heartache, and disapproval I was to face - it mattered not to me.  Why?   Because He could make me whole.  And, He did.

So, as I ponder why I titled my first entry "Humbled - and then some. . .," I realize that my life DID change.  And, I am ever so humbled to be able to call myself "Daughter of the Most High King."  I am humbled that despite myself, over the last 15 years, I have seen God use my past -  every wound, every dark place, every ounce of suffering - and allow me to pour myself out for Him.  I am beside myself with awe when I look at how far down I get in the mirey clay and wallow in my sorrows and I see Him use me to speak His truth into someone else's life in their time of need.  Regardless of what I feel or what clouds my thinking, His Holy Spirit works in me, teaches me, and reminds me of how much I've changed - of how He changed me.

So, maybe I shouldn't just say I'm humbled.  I think the better descriptive modifier would be BLESSED.

Will you join me on my journey?  Aren't you just a wee bit curious about me now?  I know I am!  I don't know where this will take me, but it can only be wherever He leads; and I intend to follow.