On My Salvation and Faithfulness

I got saved when I was very young.  I still remember it like it was yesterday.  We went to church at my great uncle's church.  My mom and her gospel group were singing that night.  It was some time in October, although I don't remember the exact day.  I was either 8 or 9, but I'm not sure exactly which it is, all I know is it was October and I was baptized in April.  My great uncle painted the most real picture of hell that night. I don't remember anyone doing so before or after that day.  I can only assume that it was the holy spirit drawing me in and dealing with me. I didn't go to the alter that night, but we barely made it in the house before I was telling my parents I needed to be saved.  My dad explained the plan of salvation to me, but I remember wishing he would shut up and get on with the praying part because I was scared the rapture would take place before I got the words out of my mouth.  

When we finally knelt at my parents bed side, I don't remember saying a single word.  I distinctly remember that I didn't close my eyes, because I remember seeing my tears hit the railing of my parents bed.  I just remember thinking to myself, "Lord help me, I don't want to go to hell."

I've really struggled with this through out my life, simply because, when you hear someone recount the day of their salvation they can tell it so well.  It's so clear to them.  It's like a picture, and they're the artist.  Sometimes, when the devil really wants to get at me, I feel the doubt creep up in me.  I feel the fear creep into my veins, and I become useless to God.  Because God can't use a doubtful soul, and without faith, it is impossible to please Him.  

There have been many times that I have prayed about this fear that I have.  When I was about 13, I remember lying in bed next to mom and begging her to pray for me because I didn't know if I was saved or not.  And then later, about 19, I remember recounting the entire day of my salvation to my dad as tears ran down my face and asking him if I was missing something.  Then, just before my dad passed away, I awoke from a horrifying dream that I'd died and gone to hell.  I woke my poor husband from a dead sleep and begged him to get on his knees in the bed next to me and pray with me.

All of these times in my life were times when I wasn't particularly close to God.  For one reason or another I was straying or pouting or whatever you want to call it.  But above all else, I was unusable to God.  

That's the way the devil likes us folks.  If he can't keep you from getting saved, he sure as the world is gonna do his best to be sure you don't lead anyone else to salvation.  That's his main goal.  Always has been...and it will be until the very end.

For the past 5 years...I've been pretty useless to God.  I've tried to explain it all away.  I have an excuse for every day of the week.  I have a reason for every missed church service.  I have an excuse for every time I didn't get up and sing when I should have.  I have reason why I didn't try to witness to the man who asked me for spare change in the parking lot of my work that night.  I have an excuse for the time someone asked me what I stood for and I tucked tail and ran.  

But what I can not find an excuse for is why my 5 year old son can't tell me a single thing about Adam and Eve.  He has no idea who Samson and Delilah are.  He doesn't know how David slew Goliath.  And he is 3 years away from the age that I was when I was saved.  In 3 years, it is completely possible that he will be at the age of accountability.  And I am failing him miserably.  

I've tried to blame my laziness on the fact that my children are embarrassingly rowdy in church.  They can't sit still that long. They're cranky.  We don't feel good.  People stare at us and I feel like they're wondering what in the world my problem is and why on earth can't I make my "brats" be quiet for just a little while.  And so, most of the time I opt to stay home.  It's a shame.  It truly is...

This week I made a goal to make sure my children made it to our Vacation Bible School, and that on the days I didn't work, I made it there with them. I expected them to learn a great deal this week, but what I didn't expect was learning something myself....

TO BE CONTINUED.... 

A Letter To Caleb...

Caleb,

  Today, I watched you graduate pre-school.  I know I looked funny, because I was the only mom crying, and you said as much on the way home.  But here's what you don't understand.  You, my sweet boy, are and will always be, my greatest miracle.  God literally gifted you to me, when I thought you would forever remain a dream that would never come true.  I BEGGED God for you.  Sometimes patiently, and sometimes not so patiently, I waited for you.  And when they finally placed you into my arms, I knew I was meant to be your mom.  And boy am I proud.

The thing is, you're just growing up way to fast for me.  Every time I look at you, it seems you've grown some more.  It just doesn't seem fair that I can't keep you exactly the way you are right now. You still trust me, and think I make no mistakes.  Your world belongs to me and your dad, and someday we are going to have to give that up.  Today was just a reminder of that fact.  And while we are so very proud of that fact, we are also a little saddened.  I truly dread the day when you no longer need me.  Just know that even if you do wake up one day and don't need me, you'll still have me.  You'll always be my baby boy.

Love Always,

Mom

The Best Big Brother

Also Incredibly Smart

And just when I think you're gonna drive me insane...

You give me that smile.

Gets me every time.

Just Decompressing.....

It's been a rough couple of weeks in the Bell household.  We all started out with colds. Shortly after, we were visited by the stomach virus.  Then it was old Mr. Influenza. And now we're back to the stomach virus.  A wonderful time for this mother to decide to pick up more hours at work.
"Oh the joys of motherhood!"

It seems as though I'm being hit on all fronts.  My not quite 3 year old daughter has decided that she is now a diva with a "TUDE".  And throws some of the awfullest tantrums you will ever see. If you see an abandoned cart at Wal-mart and hear a child screaming like a banchee somewhere near, you know the "Carlinator" has struck again.

I used to be one of those people who snarled their noses at the screaming child in the cart behind me whose mother calmly read the cover of People magazine as if nothing were happening. Not anymore.  I applaud the mother who can keep her cool when her normally sweet baby is transforming into the hulk right beside her.  Let me tell ya, it's enough to drive you to drinkin' sometimes.

Don't get me wrong, I realize this is what I signed up for, but ya'll if I hear one more childless adult say the words, "You better do something with that kid now, or in a few years you'll not be able to control them." I'm gonna Hulk out myself.  Please, tell me more about how you know exactly nothing about being a parent. The thing is, being a parent is hard in itself without having to justify your actions to someone who knows nothing about the situation except what they might see on the surface.

I suppose that's what parenting has taught me.  I don't judge the way I used to.  When I see a situation, I see it with new eyes.  And I think, not what that person should be doing differently, but what I could be doing to help encourage them.  And for that I'm grateful.




We did manage to enjoy some days minus the sickness. Here's what we did for fun! Enjoy!

 

A Ride in the Car with Daniel...

' Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;'
-William Shakespeare--

---We're riding in the car.  It's the first evening we've spent alone since our son was born. We've gone so quickly from being a couple of young kids with our own ideas and plans for our lives, to two people who now walk a single path. Sometimes the path is rocky, and sometimes it's smooth.  Sometimes we travel a great distance, and sometimes we stand in the same place for a while, one waiting for the other to move.  Mostly he waits patiently for me to move. But we've both learned with time, that the importance of the path is that it is traveled together. 

I think, as I glance over at him, how he's changed so much since the first time we road in a car like this together.  I see it  looking back now.  I didn't have a chance back then.  Not even for a second. I was his from the moment he shook my father's hand and said, "I'll have her home by 10, sir."  He wasn't even scared. 

We were young.  Very young....and the odds weren't in our favor.  Not many young kids can make a marriage last.  Our parents were terrified for us.  Perhaps because they knew that we still had a lot of growing to do, and that that meant we would most likely change.  And that meant, that we might become different people along the way, and that someday we might wake up strangers.  

It's true though.  We did change.  We've seen hard times, heart aches, births, deaths, disappointment....but the one thing that hasn't changed...is our love for one another.  People change...life changes...circumstances change....and love remains the same.  It is an ever fixed mark, that looks on tempests and is never shaken.

We ride in silence now, down the road...in our car...him holding my hand.  I am content in knowing that our silence is comfortable and familiar, and it feels just like home.  

How I Learned To Believe

(Linking up with Imperfect Prose today.  This is only the second time doing so.  I thought it was time to test my writing out on someone besides my little facebook family. Be gentle.)

Their are two kinds of people in the world.  Believers and non-believers.  You can become a believer, but you can never become a non believer.  Once you first believe in something, you don't have a choice to do anything else.


I became a believer when I was nine years old.  The first thing I ever believed in...I mean TRULY believed in...was Jesus.  After that, it wasn't hard to find something to believe in.  What was hard was to keep believing even when things looked dim.  I have lost people in my life, and saw things in my life that has shook my belief to the very core.

I've lost friendships that I thought would last forever. But, I happen to have some of the best friends that anyone could possibly ask for.

At a very young age,  I was told after two miscarriages, that I might never have children.  But, at night I'm rocked to sleep by the gentle breathing and snoring of not one but two brown eyed miracles who look a mixture of their daddy and me.  And I awaken to soft voices whispering, "Mommy, can we get up now?"

My dad passed away from cancer when I was twenty four, sending me deep down in the gutter of a darkness that I never want to ever revisit again. But I am reminded daily, that I have a heavenly father who hears my every prayer.

My belief gets shaken when I and those that I love are attacked because what we believe threatens others and what they stand for.  I feel afraid when I am told that my belief brings hatred and alienates those who aren't like me. I believe that we all are different and believe differently ,and yet love can still exist between us all.

My belief is shaken when I hear of men and women who kill in the name of a God that they do not know.  Or when a man walks into a school full of children and opens fire.  Or a movie theater.   Or a public office building....But I still believe that there are good people left in this world.

I still believe.

I Believe that Christ can make anyone a true believer.  I believe there is light within every darkness.  I believe that in all things God is in control.  I still believe that prayer and hope can cure cancer.  I believe that even the greatest doctors can be proven wrong.  And I believe that even the most wretched sinner can be saved.  I believe that I can do all things, through Christ.  And my belief keeps me going.  It is the only thing that can not be taken from me.  Because no matter what, I believe.

We Laughed Until We Cried...

It's been almost four years since my dad went home to be with Jesus.  I have been gradually healing from that loss every day since then.  Some days, it's easy.  Some days, not so much...  But even on the best day the ache was dull.  A constant reminder of the missing piece to my life puzzle.  I can tell you with complete certainty that up until a week ago, I had not laughed in four years.  

I tried to fake it.  Even on the best days.  I would chuckle when things were funny, but it had been so long since I'd actually laughed until I thought my insides would explode.  Now, if you know me at all, you know that laughing is what makes "me"..."me".  And I can say with confidence that I have not been "me" in a very, very, VERY long time.  

I've tried going through the motions.  Forcing a laugh where I knew it should be, and smiling at sweet moments when I knew that I should.  But I wasn't interested in smelling the flowers...and I had no desire to make any kind of effort to make a long lasting friendship, or even pretend that getting out of the house and off the couch made me happy.  I was broken...heart, soul, and spirit.  

Even before last weekend, I had come a long way.  I spoke at a ladies' conference in September about letting go of grief, and accepting God's plan.  I was even happy. And God put these really great people in my path to help me.  As it turned out, one of the girls (whom I had known for years, but never was friends with) from my church had befriended me, and it just so happened that her dad had passed away from the same illness as my dad just a few months before.  

To try to explain...our dads were friends. Also, we share cousins, but aren't cousins ourselves.  Which kind of makes it feel like we're family anyway, even though we're not.  She's also my children's care giver when I'm at work.  To be quite honest, we sort of just became friends without even trying or noticing.  Before we knew it we were having family dinners, and going out to dinner when we could steal away from our children.  During that time we talked and shared our experiences of loss, and I began to realize I wasn't alone in my sadness.  Knowing that fact felt pretty darn good. I can safely say that she was the most unexpected friend I've ever made, and I feel extremely blessed to have her in my life.

Recently, my cousin, (whom I've always wanted to spend more time with but it never seemed to work out) moved back home from Virginia.  She has got to be the most care free...loving...fun person I have ever known, and I can't for the life of me figure out why we haven't made more of an effort before now.  But she is without a doubt the only person that could have brought my laughter back, and I am so glad to call her my family.

  Last Sunday night, I was excited when we all finally made it under the same roof.  I can't really explain this to you, but let me just say...I haven't had that much fun in years.  After all these years of feeling like I didn't have a friend in the world, there I was sitting at a kitchen table with more than my fair share.

That was the day.  The day I got my laugh back. We were all laughing, and we laughed until we cried.  And it felt like the best gift I have ever been given.  To be able to laugh in a house, at a table, with people who know me, and still love me.  I can't say that there won't be more bad days for me, but that day made me realize that on the bad days, I won't be alone.  

  

My Anniversary....

When you marry young, it's easy to lose yourself in the midst of it all. The wedding, starting a life...a family. And suddenly you wake up one day, and you have a job and a house, and two children to raise.  You aren't just a couple, you're a family.  And you begin to wonder....Does this person that I married even really know me? Do I really know me anymore?  Are we still the two people who fell in love 10 years ago? Or are we just two people who live together and have children.

"I need to stop and get a few things before I come home." he says to me. 

I knew where he was going. He forgot our anniversary last year, and this year he was bound and determined to make up for it.
"Ok." I replied.

When he walked through the door, I already knew he was towing a juicer in his bag.  It's what I said I wanted.  Who could blame the guy for giving me exactly what I said I wanted.  But somewhere down deep inside it hurt me just a little.  The "whiny-butt" inside of me couldn't help but wonder if given the task he would be able come up with a single gift for me that would show that he knew me at all.

You see, my husband is my best friend.  We do everything together.  We have been in each other's lives since we were 16. We know things about each other...and yet, all he could think to buy me was the juicer that I'd asked for.

He saw the disappointment in my eyes.  "Isn't that what you asked for?" He frowned.

"Yeah," I smiled. I did like the gift. Genuinely...i did.  "Thank you."
"I also got you this." He smiled back at me, and pulled a CD out of his pocket.
It was Gavin DeGraw the Live Concert album.
I squealed like a kid and snatched the CD from his hands.  Then I threw my arms around him and kissed him. He thought I loved the gift, but what I loved was the fact that he bought me a gift that showed me he still knew me.

It's the most amazing feeling...knowing you're with the one who God intended.  Knowing that no matter what life hands you...you're in it together.

Happy Anniversary Honey.  9 Years and Counting.....