How does one restart a blog?
Seriously, that is a legit question running rampant in my head. I can’t even say it’s jogging laps because it has no pattern. My apex statement–I miss writing with somewhat of a purpose. Since the original “Journey’s” abrupt end, I tried to write, just to write, to no avail. I have a folder containing a million pages with three sentences scribbled on each page.
When I initially started blogging, I had scads of time to sit and write and build a website and write some more. I was traveling the nation in the passenger seat of a semi, a prisoner in my own right (I am free to tell the real story now!). Presently, I have a full-time plus job, a ministry, a church plant, online classes, and a house in the midst of a remodel. I have stolen moments. My only answer to the above question is to start where I am and fill in the gaps.
I suppose this is where the “new” journey begins. I shall supply the blog with random old posts and toss in some updates as time allows. I think that will get the ball rolling and we shall see what metamorphosis transpires. (Yes, I still talk to myself out loud on paper, somethings don’t change)
Honestly, the coolest part of picking up where I left off is I’m not where I left off! After all, this is my journey from here to there! To quote me from years ago, “my ‘now’ story will someday be my ‘then’ story.” Then is now and it is a true story. Consequently, my current now story will someday be my then story. I love how this works! Are you as confused as I am?? Great, let’s unravel together.
You see, back then, life was an ugly mess. I was a hot mess of a smorgasbord of unsightly issues. But I knew somehow, someway, God was going to do something miraculous. I was right. He did! I am alive and can honestly say that I love my life. How on earth did I get from there to there to there and then now to here? Thank you for asking!
Allow me to give you the short version. Maybe someday I will write the extremely long version and piece it together.
Here we go!
I had a Joseph moment. Instead of someone else throwing me into a pit and selling me to slavery, I threw myself into the well and sold myself into slavery. We will call it anger and I did not keep it in check. The unchecked anger festered into resentment and bitterness. It choked the life out of me and landed me smack dab in the middle of Egypt (or hell, but for literary sake, we will refer to it as Egypt). But I still wasn’t Joseph–I was not Ms. Patient who waited on the Lord. I did not make a good showing. We can just skip to the slavery and bondage part; it was ugly.
**sidenote, in the original JourneyofaMillionMiles, I never dared to write about the first forty years of my life. We’ve never talked about why I did what I did or precisely what it was that I did. Maybe there was one post. I think I lost some “friends” over it. Give me time, and I will post some details.
Anyway, back to the story. I did a free fall off the cliff straight into the darkest abyss ever. I lived in slavery. At first, as is denial, I had no clue I was enslaved. I was just sad. After realizing where I was, I wanted to escape but had no clue how or what to do. So I endured and then gave up. I basically laid down to wait for death.
You will see that part of my life in most of the past blog writings that will pop up on the site from time to time. There was some heart-shattering hurt and a desperate longing to just be free this side of heaven. If you were to analyze the previous posts, you would find hinting to circumstances. However, I had to skate the surface not daring to go too deep. I was petrified that the evil Pharaoh would see what I wrote and Egypt would unleash all its furry. Pharaoh is gone. I can sell the story straight out these days. Can I tell you what a relief that is? To finally be able to talk freely and be honest about life and not keep secrets? If you are not there, I challenge you–get there! Eventually, I found support and honesty in Celebrate Recovery–a bunch of people just like me on a path to freedom!
Anyways, back to Egypt. I made my escape.
Somewhere early part of 2017, in my “Mountain of Forgiveness” (click to read!) year, I saw an opening in the door and bolted. You ever tried to flee from an angry Pharaoh? That was something. I crossed the red sea on dry ground, miraculously, and the divorce was final.
Crossing the desert was hot, dry, and lonely. Sometimes I walked, one foot in front of the other but mostly, I stumbled and crawled. I spent a lot of time face first in the sand, daring death (or the buzzards) to come to get me.
I was messed up from so many years in Egypt and the hurts before Egypt that I never dealt with. Captivity was my familiar. Chains were all I knew. I had to learn how to live life. In Egypt, I was told how to think, what to say, and how to react. My brain was not capable of rational thought. Seriously. I wish I were kidding you here or taking artistic liberties. I didn’t know how to act, what to do, what to say. So, I found some familiar ways–coping mechanisms, if you will. (That is a whole series of posts for another day when I get super brave to write about what God has really called me to write about. I’m gonna ease into that one. I still raise my eyebrow when I think about actually putting those words on paper and hitting the publish button. I’ll get there, I promise. But not today.)
So back to the desert. I wandered in circles, all the while wanting to go back to Egypt. Sound familiar? I love the parts in Exodus when the Israelites say, “Were there not enough graves in Egypt?” I chuckle at that because, to me, it makes total sense. Was I just wandering the desert to die or was there a point to this? I’m such an Israelite. Not a Moses either. God made a lot of promises, and I did not believe too many of them.
When he let me peek into the “promised land,” all I saw were giants. I ran and hid. Therefore, I wandered in fear in the desert for a while longer. I made idols and I worshiped them. Or I just worshiped the idols I already had; take your pick. God beat his head into a wall on several occasions; I could hear the thudding all the way to earth. He persisted. He persisted, and I resisted.
If you recall, in this speedy tale of my now story being my then story, I wanted to be free. I wanted to live a life of freedom on this side of heaven. (Read Cairns on the Trail of Time/Learning to Write) I wanted a safe place to share my story and not be judged. I wanted to be free of the junk and confusion. I wanted honesty. I will repost some of those posts, don’t worry. We have time to read the whole story.
Healing! This story takes a positive turn.
Go all the way back to 2015 with me. That fantastic summer I spent living in my forever home of Colorado, just Dog and me. What a glorious summer!! Until I gave it all up because I wanted the borders of my faith erased. Sigh, I loved that summer. I digress. I learned of this program called Celebrate Recovery. It was for all addicts, not just alcohol or drugs, that needed healing. That was me!! I stored that thought away in the back of my mind. Summer of 2017, I started following Celebrate Recovery on Facebook and the longing grew. November of 2018, I made that long walk across the parking lot and found my forever family and my home. Insert healing here!
Healing is not fast. It’s now September (because all new beginnings happen in September–it’s my new year) 2021, and I am still a work in progress. I still have some raw patches (see the part I don’t want to write about, but someday will). It’s a process, and it only works if you work at it.
Here we are! I have crossed the Jordan on dry ground, Pharaoh is but a memory, the custody battle for the house is over, and I am living in the promised land. However, there are giants here. I have a lot of work to do. But, fear is no longer my best friend. I trust that God will do exactly what he said he would. I am still making this house a home and living out Jeremiah 29:7. I feel like that may be a long-term mission while I am banished in Ozarks for the next 65 years. (I’ll insert that post later!)
So now, a few more quick updates for anyone here since the inception (as I am watching the clock tick away at my stolen minutes). I met a fellow who became my best friend, ministry partner, and husband. I’ll think of a clever name for him later (in my phone, he is “sweetums,” that very lovable muppet ogre from the Muppit show back in the ’70s). He, too, is a part of Celebrate Recovery and working out his healing. You wanna talk about a powerful union? I am blessed! Nothing like two broken humans finding God and working towards the same goal together.
I’ve learned to trust God. First, I had to realize that I didn’t trust Him before learning to trust Him. I had been living in a fictitious world where I convinced myself that I trusted The Almighty One; I really didn’t. Learning and unlearning was a fun process. I will write about that one too, in my stolen moments.
I learned to trust the humans as well. So many years of hurt, broken trust, and a broken heart left me beyond leary of all the humans. I trusted no one, period. On my slow trudge up the mountain, I discovered this thing called forgiveness, and it revolutionized my life.
Life is meant to be lived in a community.
So many secrets kept me locked away in isolation. As it turns out, I just needed to find my people group. One of the best parts of being free is I have friends. I have a group of ladies that know my whole story and they still love me! They know my secrets! You know what?? So does Sweetums (my hubby–that nickname may stick). He knows all of my sorted past, all the good, the bad, and the horrendous. That is what freedom feels like!
I’ve learned to let God color my page and surrendered my crayons to him. His will, His way. Those stories will be remarkable to write. I used to write in tears. Now, I write with shouts of joy!
**Big sigh, this is hard; I’m sad to announce that in June of 2020, my long-time, best, and faithful friend Dog, passed in her sleep. She was laid to rest here in the Ozarks. That hurt like mad, and I cannot write about it without crying. I loved that girl. She was there for me when no one else was. She was my world, and she is missed.
I still have the pup I rescued somewhere in the final days of the original blog. I think there is a picture of that cute pup on my social media (my facebook page my instagram) However, Mabel is a small pony now. A one hundred plus pound Lab/Great Dane; she is a big girl. In addition to Mabel, we have this gender-confused creature named Rhoda, she masquerades as a cat, but I’m not sure what she is.
I work at McDonald’s, as does Sweetums (boy, that’s a long story!). And we, along with a team, are starting up a church in the community we work in–Jeremiah 29:7. The reports from that will be epic!
I have so much to write about. I hope you are buckled up for this ride. I’m glad you are joining me, whether for the first or second time, on this journey from here to there. Here is not my home. It’s “there” where I am headed to the city with foundations whose architect and builder is God. It’s my journey of freedom (Hebrews 11:10). I was once lost, but now I am found. I was once a slave, but now I am free. Instead, she was longing for a better country–a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called her God, for He prepared a city for her. My paraphrase of Hebrews 11:16!
God moves mountains, but he also moves minuscule molecules. The point is, He is always moving and I’ve learned to move with Him, not against him. I think, all in all, I have found necessity in keeping a written record of my life, cairns of the trail of time if you will.
Two thousand, give or take, words later, you are all caught up with the “quick” overview. I promise that details will follow as time allows (click this link again from time to time as I will link posts as they come up to the various thoughts expressed). It’s good to be back; it’s good to be home! TheJourneyofaMillionMiles.