Why Me? Why not me?

Christ Brings New Life20 You died with Christ. Now the forces of the universe[d] don’t have any power over you. 

I've encountered a lot of hurting people in my walk with God.  And I have had the honor to walk along side them in their times of trouble. But, honestly I find myself wondering at times why they are confiding in me. Some things are easier than others to carry with them, but there have been times where the troubles seem to be too much for me to bear.  In those times I find myself asking, "Why me?"

But in response to my first question, I am faced with another question, "Why not me?"  What makes me so special that I feel like I shouldn't have to do these hard things?  The answer is Christ. Jesus died for me.  He died to pay the price to reconcile me with God, to make me new, to make me powerful in the strength of his Holy Spirit.  I often forget the last two things.  

My memory holds the truth of who I was, but my life now reveals the truth of who God has made me.  Often times, I find myself at odds with who I think I am and who God tells me I am.  Such a conundrum.  Reconciling the old me with the new me.  But the fact remains that the old me is DEAD, no more, gone and buried.  The new me is alive in strength of the same Holy Spirit who lived in Jesus.  Best of all, it was  a free gift to me from God... no strings attached, no repayment needed.

I used to slip into "Stinkin' Thinkin'," when someone would come to me for counsel.  It goes a little like this... "You have nothing to offer them... You don't know how to help them... This situation is beyond your scope...don't they know who you used to be?"  That enemy has no new tricks, but there I was, falling for them all.  Oh my sad, sad brain; that chooses on any given day, to think back to those days before my life was changed and make decisions or choices from that place.

How then do we go about life in the new reality of who we are?  How do we tap into the power of Christ to live out our lives daily?  It took years of conditioning to become the yucky-me-I-used-to-be.  And for me personally, it has taken some time and work to become who I am now.  For me the change began in my mind.

2 Corinthians 10:5 ...we are taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ...

Romans 12:22 Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

When I read these verses years ago, it hit me.  Am I holding every thought captive to the obedience of Christ?  Am I weighing whether this thought I am having is from God, in line with his Spirit and with the Word of God?  I realized all too often I was just letting my mind wander back and forth, from the old man to the new man. And in the meantime, I was living my life by my feelings or from my own thoughts.  Since I already knew what a "great job" I had done before I gave my life to Jesus, I realized this had to change.  I started reading my Bible, and searching for encouraging scriptures.  I wrote them out and taped them to my bathroom mirror.  It's a practice that I continue to this day.

One of the verses that has been in circulation on my bathroom mirror this year.

And so began the renewing of my mind, as I flossed and brushed my teeth every day.  I would change out the scripture every few weeks to another that I had found, but I soon realized that my thoughts about myself were changing.  I realized my view of the world, of other people and my circumstances were changing.  That voice in my head, that would put me down was getting quieter.  Some days it didn't even show up, but when it did, I would ask, "Is this what God thinks of me?  Is this what God would have me do?  Is this in His word?"  I was thinking differently, and with the mind of Christ.  

The beginning of Proverbs 23:7 says "For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he..."  Stop, and assess the harsh thoughts we have about ourselves. "You can't do that...  You're not as pretty as so and so...  You're getting fatter... You're getting older...  You're not going to be able to complete that project in time... etc..."  Can you imagine if someone said these things to you?  I don't know about you, but it would take all I have in me not to punch them!  We wouldn't say these hurtful things to others.  So why then, do we not extend ourselves the same kindness and consideration we would gladly give to others.  Why do we allow the enemy to have this kind of power over us in our thought life?  This has got to stop.  You were made for more than that!

I have been able to use all those experiences meant to destroy me in life, for the good and glory of God, in my ministry with other women.  God, who so gladly extended me mercy, kindness and understanding, has taught me to do the same to those who have asked me for counsel, or have confided in me their hardships.  I saw that they needed someone to do it for them until they could learn to do it for themselves.  In doing so, that action has revealed to me the answer to my first question, of  Why me?   

Why not me!  I too have struggled with the core issue of believing what God says about me vs. what the enemy says about me.  Who better to share my struggle and victory with, than with another woman who is walking those same steps?  And the glory of God's work is that in sharing my hardships and victories, God shows me in the kindest and most loving way possible, who He's made me to be and how far He and I have come together in our relationship.  God is alive.  He is a gentleman.  He has shown me these things over these past 10 years.

A life completely surrendered to Him is rewarded with this knowledge: The old has gone and the new has come.   I am holy.  I am blameless.  I am powerful.  I am righteous.  I am healthy.  I am prosperous.  I am forgiven.  I am worthy of love.  I am worthy of good things.  I am His beloved.  Whether I feel it, or whether I believe it completely, at the time, is irrelevant!  Why?  Because He is the Truth and The Way.  

As Christ is in heaven, so am I on this earth.   What a truth!  What a wonderful realization!  And when you wake up in the morning with this kind of bad hair day, it helps to remember who you really are.  :)

Thank you God for bad hair days.  Just another reminder of how much I need you.
Even in the little things.

Happy Housewife, Well Fed Husband.

Ah, so many books, so little time. Actually, I'm just bad at time management... 

Who can find a good wife?  For she is worth more than rubies that make one rich. Proverbs 31:10

This morning I came across an e-card that spoke to my current predicament.  I am presently in the process of reading 14 books.  No, not because I am a college student enrolled in school, but for the purpose of learning how to address all my deficiencies.  I have stepped out of denial and realized I am not PERFECT.  I'm aware that there are areas in my life where I could use some improvement and have decided that I'm taking this challenge of self improvement head on.  

However, as I am terrible a time management, I've found myself struggling to organize my time where I can get all the things accomplished that I want to do.  Anyone else have this problem?  I realize that there are a great number of time wasters in my life.  Namely, Facebook, Twitter, Pintrest, DIY network, Food Network, etc...  >Sigh<  My addictions to these things have left many pinned projects alone on their board in cyber space as well as many loads of clean laundry in need of an iron or folding.  

This isn't even the worst it's been...

Since I quit my job as a preschool teacher this past May, I thought I would have, "sooooo much more time" to get things done.  Well, I do and I don't.  It stinks when the projects you wanted to get done don't come about cheaply.  I see "unfinished" or "ignored" projects all around me on a daily basis.  The cleaning, that once provided instant gratification on my "I've-accomplished-something-today" scale has become a list of undesirable chores. 

The satisfaction of an item crossed off!

I wonder how I ever used to get anything done when I worked full time, and spent countless hours a week involved in Youth/ Women's/ Worship ministries.  Then I remember, I didn't.  My house was a disorderly mess, the tub needed a good scrubbing and the pile of mail grew by the day.  I don't even want to get into my barren refrigerator. Those were the days of the NOT-Well-Fed-Husband...   

I wonder what he ate!

 Poor Babe.  How'd he get stuck with a wife like me?  :/ 

Like I said, I'm aware of my deficiencies, and after a few weeks of beating myself up for not being the Proverbs 31 woman my husband deserved, I got to reading.  I realize figuring out how to be a good wife is not something that happens over night, (at least not for me) but I began my mission.  I found a book, that lead to another book, that lead to another... Pretty soon, I'm reading 14 at the same time.  No one can say I lack motivation, but organizing my time... uh... not so good.  

All that aside, I know that it took a long time for these crazy-A.D.D.-habits to take hold.  I'm just finding it so frustrating to break myself of them.  Slowly but surely, I'm learning.  

I'm learning... 

• how to be a better cook
• how to manage a house 
• how to balance a budget 
• how to be a gracious hostess, 
• how to cook foods that don't contain a stick a butter (1/2 a stick now)
• how to speak my husband's love language
• how to repsect my husband
• how to be support my husband
• how to pray for my husband and step-kids
• how to be a woman who's focus is on God first and foremost   

My successful days at tackling the To Do List, chores and reading have come about on days I've spent the appropriate time focusing on the Lord first.  I know it's not a coincidence, but I realize I'm a scatterbrain and how much I need God to help me learn how to do everything and anything.   

I also know that with His help, I'll eventually tackle my ridiculous reading list and hopefully have taken a step towards being more like a "good wife."  So on that note, I've got some reading to do... 

I'd better get to reading! Right after I check Pintrest for tonight's dinner inspiration... :)

An Evening at McDonalds

When I lived in New York, I would often take myself on “dates.” I’d grab a book and pick a place and head out for dinner alone. For some reason this often raised eyebrows as the hostess walked me to a table normally for two. I got pretty used to getting looked over at the door as they seated complete parties ahead of me.

Last night, I had some time to spend alone. I left the house, without any real destination. As I drove I decided, “I really want a Coca Cola.” McDonalds was on my left and although I can’t remember the last time I went into one, I found myself pulling my car into the parking lot. I thought I was there to get a soda. I was wrong.

Approaching the counter, the kid in his uniform asked what I would like. Instead of the fountain soda I had planned on, I ordered a meal. I had time to kill and decided that it would be a good chance to catch up on some reading and the beeper announcing that a fresh batch of fries was done, was the clincher.

I was glad that there isn’t a hostess at McDonalds. I chose a booth for 4 on the far wall, rather than sit in the cramped looking table for 2 in the corner of the dining room. I began my familiar process; spread out my meal in front of me, chose three fries, bunched them together and dipped into the ketchup. I grabbed my book from my oversized purse and began reading and munching. It all felt familiar.

I overheard a conversation at a far table between a man and the man preparing his taxes. I listened as “taxman” educated his client on the importance of keeping receipts and maintaining a mileage log. After all, he was a sales man. There were a lot of write-offs to be had. He explained about charitable contributions and mentioned a place called Serenity Beach House, a halfway house for young women. “Taxman” explained the benefits of keeping careful logs of charitable contributions as well. The client just looked at the other man as if he were speaking a foreign language. I wondered if it was all the tax information or word “charitable contributions” that confused him.

Sometime later, I can’t be sure when, I found myself staring out the window. There was a large man getting out of his car. He was late 30’s, tall, stocky and tattoos covered his arms. He appeared gruff. His wife, close in age, followed behind him, with three young boys. She wore a long flowing skirt, sandals, a stripped t-shirt, hair thrown up in a messy bun. I watched as the man entered and headed to the counter. Mom and the boys picked the booth directly in front of me.

I listened as the boys chattered on about the door behind me. Was there an arcade behind the door? Didn’t there used to be arcades in McDonalds? I vaguely remembered, the one I went to as a little girl, had one. I listened to their hopeful voices as their mother asked them to sit down and informed them that the door lead to the employee break room. With resigned defeat I watched the boys sit and settle in.

Three boys. Three Mohawk hair cuts. Mom sat with her back towards me. I went back to my book and French fries. A few minutes later the man came back with food and sat next to his wife. His orange t-shirt caught my peripheral vision as I read and I looked up just in time to see him settle down and look up at the tax man. The “tax man” called out to him a greeting. They chatted about where they knew each other. Ah yes, from this place or that. I watched as the boys sat waiting. Not one opened his sandwich.

Their father finished their conversation and turned his attention to his family. I took a sip of my soda. They all crossed themselves and I listened as the youngest boy said a prayer of thanks for their food. The youngest boy met my gaze. “Voyeur,” I thought to myself. I had been caught. I looked away, out towards the window and to a car passing by in the parking lot.

I’m not sure what exactly happened next. Something overwhelming came over me. My eyes suddenly began to overflow with tears. I felt at home with my brothers and sisters in the Lord. I thought about the cross section of people sitting in this McDonalds with me. I thought about this "taxman,” and Matthew from the bilbe. The client and the parable of the rich young ruler. The gruff man with tattoos, his wife and the Mohawk triplets, "I say to you, come to me as little children..." Blessed are the poor in spirit... As I thought on these things, I prayed. I prayed that God would someday allow me to have a family like theirs. One that is closely knit, filled with love for each other, and for the Lord. I thanked God for choosing me, loving me and forgiving me and all the other outcasts of this world.

I cleaned up my tray. I packed my book away and took a sip of my soda. I walked towards the garbage and deposited my trash. I looked over at this family, eating, chattering boys, Mom and Dad listening to their children… “You have a lovely family,” I thought. I thought it. I didn’t say it.

The lump in my throat prevented me.

God sees me... AND HOW!

Recently, I have been struggling with a lot different things.  Mostly, what to do for my job.  We were given the option to work part-time this summer.  I discussed it with my husband and he suggested that I ask to work part time for the summer.  I was torn.  I've had two jobs almost my entire life.  How could I drop down to part-time?  How could we possibly make ends meet with just half of my usual paycheck to contribute?  So many questions...

I prayed about it and felt that the Lord was leading me to go to part time.  I thought had peace about it, but my "need to know things" mentality took over once again.  Suddenly I was in worry mode.  I was creating "what ifs" by the second and second guessing my decision.  Could I change it?  I had already put my request in to my boss.  

I am also presently working on my National CDA.  I am doing a fast track course and hoping to finish in the next 6 weeks.  120 credit hours in 6 weeks.  A ton of work!  More stress.  I have a 450 page manual to read, a ton of assigments, tests to take and resources to gather.  Again I wondered, "Am I doing the right thing Lord?"  

I'm a "write it in the sky with fireworks" or "hit me over the head" about somethings.  I struggle with trusting the Lord to provide at times and it has a lot to do with my upbringing.  I've been praying, "Lord, I need you to show me that what I'm doing is the right thing.  I need to know, without a shadow of a doubt that I'm in your will.  Please just make yourself known to me in this situation."

Well, Monday as I began reading my textbook for my CDA, God answered my prayer.  Not only did he answer my prayer, but literally called me by my name.  Because as I said before... I'm a write it in the sky with fireworks kind of girl sometimes.  Attatched is the picture to prove it.  Every last word printed in the picture is truth.  

God is good.  God is faithful.  God sees me

Genesis 16:13

New International Version (NIV)

 13 She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen[a] the One who sees me.”

Do Not Worry

    25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[e]?

   28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

WOW!

I came across a journal that was about two years old in the trunk of my car. I stated using the unused pages for random notes. However today I came across a journal entry that really made me smile. Sometimes I need to be reminded of certain things. Thought I'd share it with you all. I've tagged some younger friends as well because well it can sometimes help to see the mistakes that other's make to be aware that you don't make the same ones yourself. :)

Titus 2

What Must Be Taught to Various Groups

1You must teach what is in accord with sound doctrine. 2Teach the older men to be temperate, worthy of respect, self-controlled, and sound in faith, in love and in endurance.

3Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. 4Then they can train the younger women to love their husbands and children, 5to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God.

___________________________________________________________________________________

December 4th 2007

Thank you Lord for Pat Lesser. Thank you Lord for revealing to me the truth.

THINGS THAT I CAN CONTROL

* My actions

*My choices

*My words

THINGS THAT I CAN'T CONTROL

*My future

*My past

*Robert

WHAT LIES AM I BELEIVING?

I am not good enough to lead CR praise band

I can do things that will "make me good enough"

I can keep Robert and I together

Robert can keep us together

THINGS THAT ARE TRUE:

I am made perfect through Christ Jesus

I am right just the way I am for God to use me for His glory

I deserve to be treated with kindness, gentleness and respect

I am worthy of love, respect, support and acceptance

Robert is responsible for Robert

I am responsible for me

I am not perfect

Robert is not perfect

I will let Robert down

Robert will let me down

I am quick to get defensive when Robert points out my faults

I am a spiritual being having a human experience

GOD allows me to lead praise band

I only feel guilty if I allow myself to feel guilty

God put Robert and I together

Robert and I are both capable of loving each other as God has commanded

WHO AM I?

I am to be held harmless and blameless by my husband

I am worthy of great love

I am capable of loving others as God does because God lives in me

I am made perfect by the blood of the Lamb

I am able to grow and change

I am destined to be a Proverbs 31 Woman.

Thank you Lord for your truth. Thank you for your strength. Be my shield and a lamp for my feet. I pray for your peace Lor and good rest tonight.

~Amen

__________________________________________________________________________________

The Name Change Dilema

Now that I've married Robert, that will make me a Raymond. But what about my ethnicity that is attached to my last name? I'm pale enough as it is, that people forget I'm even Spanish. (Not to mention I don't tan all that well...) How can I be a Raymond?

Then of course there is the question of cleaving to my husband. The two have become one. But what does it say about name change? I have been thinking about hyphenating it to Sanchez-Raymond. But does this honor Robert? I don't know. So I asked Robert how he feels about this and he said he doesn't care either way. "It's your name baby. As long as I'm in there some where I'm happy," was his actual response. So he's no help. ;)

I know I'll still make hot chocolate on the stove with actual chocolate bars melted in... the real Colombian way. I'll still make my tostones and platano like I always have. I'll still answer my parents in Spanish when I don't even realize I'm not speaking English anymore. I'll teach my children all the children's songs my mom taught me like "Los Pollitos." But what about the name? I'm torn and really thinking the hyphen isn't looking so bad.

I'd be Marilyn Adela Sanchez-Raymond. My kids would be Blah Blah Blah Raymond. Socially I'd be Mrs. Raymond... unless I had to sign a legal document. And when I traveled my passport would be the hypenated name. It's probably safer for me to travel in Colombia, with my gringo husband Robert, with my spanish name still there on my passport.. ;D )

I'm just trying to work this out. Needless to say I've been in much prayer over this and haven't heard anything from the Lord about it yet. What do you all think about the matter? I could use some more input. 

A Sweet Aroma

I was making mental lists of all the things that I needed to get done by tomorrow evening at work. It caught me off guard as I walked home one night from another late night’s work. The smell wafted down on me in the cool of a city summer night. The faint sounds of the train in distance and the sight of city litter reminded me that I was indeed still in Astoria, Queens. I looked around and saw only my neighbor, the old Greek woman who was perpetually sweeping the side walk. She was muttering to herself in Greek, perhaps cursing the passers by who dared litter her sidewalk. I looked away and searched the gated front stoops of small houses as I walked. I tried to concentrate further on the origin of the aroma. Was that jasmine, honeysuckle? What was it and where was it coming from?

I breathed in deeply as I walked to the middle of my block and crossed the street. The sweet smell followed. The day faded into the recesses of my memory. I skipped up the front steps and unlocked the front door to my 2nd floor apartment that I shared with two friends. I was home alone. “They must be out somewhere,” I thought. As I closed the door and bounded up the steep wooden staircase, I was suddenly aware of the protest they made under my weight. I eased up; worried my landlord would complain about the noise at the late hour. I sighed as I realized that the garbage needed to be taken out. I didn’t need to look. I could smell it.

Readying myself for bed, I showered, brushed my teeth. I slipped into pajamas and picked up the book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez that was dog-eared on my night stand. I opened the window and was struck by the smell once more. I read for a while, unable to shake a feeling. Of what, I couldn’t be sure. It was a feeling with which I was unfamiliar. I closed my book an hour later and turned out the light. Sleep came immediately; a rare and strange occurrence.

Five years later, there I was. Packing the excess of my life into boxes, I thought about moving. I hated moving. I doubted anyone really enjoyed it, but I found myself annoyed that I had to start over. I’m resistant to change. It scares me, excites me and drains me. I wasn’t feeling well after all and the task at hand was a great stress. I decided that the rest of the packing would have to be handled by somebody else. I was spent and I was looking forward to a rest from the hectic weeks that had proceeded this day. I packed a few boxes into my car and drove off towards my new home. This was the 4th new place in 5 years. My head was swimming with the thoughts of unpacking and the dread of the thought of living out of boxes. I was mechanical in my driving and was surprised when I arrived at my new place in what seemed like record time. No one else was there. “They must have gone back to pick up the last truck load,” I assumed.

Unlocking the door, I stepped into chaos. Boxes were piled everywhere in random order. Power tools laid about the concrete floor, a reminder of the work still needing to be done. It was dusty and there was a faint smell of turpentine. I walked past the kitchen to look out the sliding glass doors. “This is home?” I asked myself. I went about looking for a glass that was clean. I turned on the tap and filled my glass with water. As I drank, I let out an exhausted sigh. Walking towards the bedroom I made an endless mental list of all the things I had to do the next day. I shook my head as if doing so would make it fade away. I was looking forward to taking a shower.

When I was done I crawled into bed and realized that the box with my glasses and books were still out in the car. I thought about leaving them there. I lay in bed trying to relax and find a comfortable position, but couldn’t. I swung my legs out of bed and looked for my flip-flops. Remembering they were packed away somewhere, I headed out the front door barefoot. Finding what I was looking for in the trunk of my car, I put on my glasses and picked up the box of books. I walked gingerly over the grass and suddenly stopped by the front door.

The smell filled my head with a rush of remembrance. I looked around trying to identify where it was coming from. The smell of gardenias had appeared out of thin air. I relaxed instantly and closed my eyes. “This is home. This is where He wants me.” I thought. I smiled to myself and walked inside. I put the books down in the overcrowded living room and proceeded to the bedroom. As I crawled into bed, I was suddenly struck by a feeling. The same one, that five years ago had no name. Ease.

I love gardenias. The sweet fragrant smell of them brings back a rush of memories and the reassurance that I am loved. I hadn’t known Him that night in Astoria, but He knew me. I know Him now. “Thank you Lord,” was all I could manage before I faded off into a peaceful sleep.