It's Not About Me

There are forces working in my life right now that are pushing me in directions and forcing decisions that I would never have taken or made on my own. I do not understand why or where they are leading me, but I do know one thing.

It's not about me.

This is a phrase that has come up over and over and over in my life in the last 6 months, becoming apparent one day as I whined and grumbled about my current employment situation.

You see in the last year...just over a year, I have had huge changes in my life. Not ones that I would have chosen. I'm not that comfortable with change. I kind of like rolling with the familiar, lived- in feeling. But none-the-less, changes have happened.

Change No.1
My job. A job that I loved. A job that I lived. A job that consumed me. Now, It is MY fault
that my job consumed me. I found my identity in my job. I was Kimberly OF the Craftmsman. I lived and breathed and loved my job. I also complained and griped and stressed over my job.
It was a good marriage that I allowed to go bad. Although I didn't realize it until I lost my job. Not just my job, but my "home". I couldn't even go back for visitation.

Change No.2
My home. Not really a home. A residence. A place that I despised. A place that litterally made me sick. A place that I was so comfortable in yet afraid of that I don't know if I would have ever left if not made to leave.

There have been other changes in my life. Realizations and attitudes and newfound respects.
AND I keep getting the message that it is not about me.

I went to work the Monday after Delano Bay Youth Worker's retreat. Now I had a bit of a paradigm shift in the way I look at things when I was at Delano. You know, where the ground you were standing on seems to shift and you look down to find that you are standing on the same ground, but wholly different? Like you are seeing it for the first time? That's where I was.
Well my co-workers are aware that I am a Christian, but most make a wide berth for me to pass by. But on this particular day, I had not one but two conversations about Christ. A request for prayer and a question about the curtain of the temple being torn in two upon the death of Jesus on the Cross! I was on cloud nine. It was awesome and awe-inspiring to think that God was using ME. ME, of all people, to minister to those around me.

It wasn't too long after that when I lost sight of the morning's conversations. I had messed up on some paperwork, filed some things wrong, and I was complaining. Not just random complaining, but I was directing this to my Father.
"God, why am I here? I'm no good at this job. I can't do the things they want me to do. I told you I would take the first job to come to ME because I knew that it would be from you. But I'm no good, there is no advancement, I don't get any sick leave....." you get the picture.
What happened next has lead me on my 6 month venture. I heard, not in my head, but a voice as loud and clear as if there was a person standing in front of my desk....

" Kim, it's not ABOUT you".

Wha? I was startled, to say the least. It took a minute to sink in that there really was no one standing in front of me or beside me or behind me. It took me a minute to realize just WHO had said this to me.

It's not about you. What do you mean it's not about ME? Over and over in the 6 months since I have had the Spirit move about me, I have heard or seen or had this little flash of "Kim, it's not ABOUT you". Sometimes I am on a "Kim" roll where I am spouting and popping off about something and I get the Not about you flash. MAN it can be irritating.

But what I have come to realize through all of this is that it is not about me... so that it CAN be about me. I have been stripped of all the things that I held tightly. Security blankets. Physical things. I have been serving the Kingdom of God here on earth in little itty bitty ways. I have been doing what I feel that my Heavenly Father is leading me to do...for HIM. So that through serving and following Christ, through humbleness and humility, I can have a better, healthier and deeper relationship with HIM.

I still don't know where I am going. I still don't know what lays down the road. But what I DO know is that He is active and present in my life. And,

It's not ABOUT me.

It's about HIM.

My Truth

There is something that has been bothering me lately.
That something is truth.

Now truth can be a blessing. It can be giddy and happy and freeing.
But that doesn't seem to be the kind that is bothering me. What's bothering me is the kind
that can be kept, sheltered and hidden. The kind that can wound and hurt and sometimes even kill.

I have never been a truth keeper about the mundane, comical, stupid, chaotic and sometimes fantastic things that happen in my life. I have no problem blabbing every little thing to anyone who will listen.

Yet I find that my life has become a growing, evolving and moving force. One that I am not quite sure how to deal with. And the truths that I find eminating from this force are litterally starting to terrify me.

Terrify is a strong word, yet befitting. Derived from the word terror.
Meanings: afraid, a frightening aspect, a cause of anxiety, an appalling person or thing, a destructive act.

My mind and body and heart have always acted together. They are all three highly dysfunctional, and they all support one-another in that dysfunction.

I had a crushing blow to my being at age 7 that has formed who I am today. The destruction was to my body. My heart was shredded in support of my body and my mind took over to protect them both. My body reacted to that protection and worked in sync with my mind to protect all three. My heart never healed.

Ramblings? Well...yeah. Excuses?...maybe. Reality?...Truth.

What I find happening lately is that these three; mind, heart and body, are no longer working in sync. They are no longer supporting one-another in their dysfunction. They are starting to grow, but not together.

This seemingly little hiccup in my iniverse is wreaking havoc, and I am afraid to see how far-reaching these little pond ripples are going.

I want so badly to live in truth, my truth. But I am terrified. I am terrified that my truths could hurt, wound or kill...relationships that I love most.

I used to be fine where I was at. With anger as my passion and coldness my comfort. I used to be great at giving other people what they wanted and leaving myself out. I used to be ok with relinquishing my body, heart and mind over to a world free from love and desire. I used to be satisfied living a mediocre life without the trappings of interwoven relationship.

I used to be.

A Heart for Gramma D.

You know, this blog is not going to say what I had intended. I had something totally different in mind to post tonight as I made my way down the darkened stairs to Dan's office computer. You see, I don't have the internet at home so I have to piggy-back or leech off of someone else to make my comments in blogger-land.
So as fate, or God,would have it, I am at the Shaefer household. With the youngest Shaefer. The sugar-craving, attention-loving, football-crazed, thin as a rail Shaefer. (Ok, so I know that describes them all.... ahem.)
I had put said Shaefer to bed, finished watching Dancing with the Stars and put the dinner dishes in the dishwasher. Then, knowing that I STILL don't have my quickie budget finished for my financial class, I decided to put it off further and go spout-off some personal pity party on my blog site.
But as I tiptoed down the stairs (Hatch's room is right next to the office), I heard a noise. Dogs sniffing? No, It wasn't sniffing, it was sniffling. It was Hatch.
As I made my way over to his bed, I could make out that he was sitting up in bed. He was crying. Maybe not crying. Quietly sobbing?
I knelt down next to his bed and without a word he leaned over and put his arms around my neck and I felt his little body shake as he sobbed.
"What's up Buddy?" He pulled away and and wiped his eyes.
"I don't know what I'm gonna do without my Grandma". Oh my heart broke.
I went and retrieved some tissue at his request and then crawled onto his bed.
We sat there in the dark, my little buddy Hatch and me, and talked about life. We talked about what it means to love someone while they are here on earth. We talked about the genetics of a family line, about pain and suffering, and the peace that God grants in Heaven for His believers. We talked about how bad it hurts to lose someone you love, and he asked if I had ever been through this. I said I had.
We hadn't talked long when his crying quieted. His little body relaxed, and he laid his ratted little tissue somewhere above his head. He reached up, put his arms around my neck again and said, "Thank you Kim". Then he said he needed to go to sleep as he rolled over and snuggled up to his faithful companion Romeo.
Gramma D, your heart lives on in the love of your grandson.

Trials of an addict

Hi. My name is Kim.

(response)
"Hi, Kim"

I'm an addict....a food addict.

I know that you may laugh, scoff or even roll your eyes (my specialty), but the dictionary describes an addict as thus:

verb
1. To cause to become physiologically or psychologically dependent on a habit-forming substance: The thief was addicted to cocaine.
2. To occupy (oneself) with or involve (oneself) in something habitually or compulsively
noun
1. One who is addicted, as to narcotics or a compulsive activity.
2. A devoted adherent; a fan

Now, I know that the general population wouldn't describe cheese puffs or fast food as a habit forming substance (they probably haven't tried Abby's Pizza), but the key words in the first description are physiologically and psychologically. These words have nothing to do with hunger or the need to fuel the body.
So this being said, I have to ask.
Would you set a lit cigarrette in front of a person trying to quit smoking? A mixed drink in front of an alcoholic? Then why would it be ok to set a food (quite frankly ANY food) in front of a food addict?
Case in point:

As I sat quietly at my desk working today, a vendor stopped by and thougthfully brought in a box of homemade sticky buns. These are quite like a cinnamon roll but with caramel and walnuts and oh they smelled goooood.
The rest of the employees sat around talking with this wonderful gentleman who had brought in this delightful confection while I continued to stare at my computer and work diligently. Mostly trying to ignore what my nostrils were telling me otherwise...that there was free food in the room.
I politely turned down the several offers of "just half?"or "Kim, you HAVE to try these" that were granted to me (while secretly wishing they would all choke).
And you know, I did QUITE well.

Until....everyone was gone.
Not gone for a minute, not gone for a couple of hours, but gone. Home. For the weekend. And they left behind one..whole..sticky bun.

There is a scene from Pirates of the Carribean where one of the cursed pirates, Pintel, says "The Gold calls to us". Well, I will tell you that sticky bun was "calling" to me.
It didn't take long for me to devour said sticky bun.

The entire time I was wolfing and snarfing, my brain was screaming NO NO NO NO NO!
It said things like "You're gonna feel like "expletive" in an hour" and "What is wrong with you?". It continued with "You are letting everyone down", "You are working too hard to do this", and "Just STOP".
Well I did stop. Of course that was because I had inhaled the whole sticky bun and there was nothing else left to eat.

I am slowly learning why I am an addict. It's not an excuse, it's what I am. I know that it is not what I want to be and I can change. I have to overcome, but it will take patience, hard work and perseverence. Please know that I am going to stumble (or scarf, as it were), and that I will pick myself up and continue to overcome. I do not expect others to change the way, place or items they eat. It is MY problem, not anyone else's (although misery loves company, so I apologize ahead of time).

Just don't leave any sticky buns in my general direction....

Where Do I Stand

So, a year has come and gone. Another has arrived. Same ol' same ol'.

I have to step back and look to see where I'm standing.
In so-doing, I have noticed something. I noticed that
my life has changed dramatically over the last 365 days.

I lost a few things:

I lost my brother back to drugs.
I lost a job I loved.
I lost a few friends and family.
I lost a "work" family.
I lost a few pounds. (Not that you would notice)
I lost a bunch of personal items that were stolen.
I lost a crippling sense of fear.

I gained a few things:

I gained a new job.
I gained a new friend.
I gained a healthy respect for Estrogen.
I gained a knowledge of the Electrical Business.
I gained the ability to start speaking my mind.
I gained courage to do things I hadn't before.
I gained some time off.

I don't know what this year will have in store for me or whether I will be here tomorrow.
What I do know is that God has His reasons for my losses and gains.

He has allowed me to be in places that make me uncomfortable, to feel his healing touch, to question "why". He has allowed me to laugh and scream and cry. To feel frightened and angry and guilty.

It is here where I learn and stretch and grow. And it is here where I find myself on my knees crying out to a Father who loves me enough to allow me to hurt so that I can come to Him. To depend on Him. To Love Him and let Him love me.

So where do I stand?
I stand on the rocky and unstable ground built from the experiences of the last 365 days.
What is that built on?
The solid foundation of Christ. His Glory. His Righteousness. His Mercy. His Love.