March 9th
8:27
Today was really a good day, emotionally and I'm not just saying that.
Around 10:30 this morning, I told my boss about my plan to blog this pain and pray this pain and I asked for his blessing, which he gave.
Around 4:30 I checked in with my pain level to discern how big it was in my body. I was feeling well and was wondering if I was really feeling well or if I am just that used to being in pain that I interpret it as wellness.
Remember how yesterday, I had pain the size of a bowling ball in my chest which turned to pain and brokenness the size of a golf ball after praying and breathing and asking the Lord to fill the space? Well, today the pain is more like a marble. An "Aggie", yes, but a marble just the same.
That is a good sign. I confess today i had some wine, but I didn't even dip my baby toe into tipsy and I checked in with myself to make sure that I wasn't trying to cover pain and I wasn't.
It was just a good day.
My son sang in a concert at school. It was a genuine delight. The sun was out and it was warm and I enjoyed that, which can be a change in the spring.
Sometimes the change to warmth and the softening of the earth and the cool air and the sound of the birds breaks my heart and fills me with fear. In fact, just writing about it now is making my heart beat fast, so I won't.
In fact, right now, I invite the Lord into the space in my chest that is beating and broken. I ask you, Lord to fill the space with whatever you see fit.
I visited a friend in rehab tonight. I brought her socks, a purse, a cross, a c.d. of music, a Bible and a yoga mat.
Maybe helping her, helped me. Or, maybe it was just a good day.
Prayer
Lord Jesus,
I thank you for today and it's blessings.
I thank you for the sunshine and the warm spring air and the chance to enjoy it.
I thank you for my family. My husband and children.
I thank you for the chance to be a help to someone else.
I pray the you will be with me tonight as I sleep.
I pray the you will be with me in my waking.
I pray you will be in my thoughts, even and especially in my most painful and joyful one's.
I pray that you will teach me how to surrender and trust the way that you did and do.
Jesus, be with me and show me how to heal.
Scripture:
Psalm 27:13-14
I believe that I will see the goodness of the Lord.
Wait for the Lord.
Be strong, let your heart take courage.
Wait for the Lord!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
The Healing Season
March 08
The Healing Season
The Healing Season
March 8th
4:01
I’m writing now because I can feel the shortness of breath sneaking in.
I’m feeling stressed, over-whelmed, a clenching in my jaw. I am biting my lip.
I’m a little dizzy.
It’s tornado season.
It will be 11 years in April. April 9th to be exact. Shoot. 4:05 a.m. April 9th of 1999 in Montgomery Ohio. To be exact.
7575 Cornell Road, Montgomery Ohio, to be exact.
The home of Lee and Jacque Cook-my parents to be exact-was struck by a tornado and killed them both.
Not quiet instantly-to be sadly and painfully exact-it cracked my father’s skull wide open and crushed ever bone in my mother’s body to the point that the first neighbor to rush to her said “she had no bones left” .
My heart in beating hard in my chests. I can’t exactly breathe. I’m gonna stop for a second and take three deep breaths and invite the Lord into my broken blown in heart.
Okay.
In those breaths, I heard the Lord say “Good, Shannyn.”
I’m writing this because I’ve made the decision to heal this year.
Every year, when the spring comes and the snow begins to thaw, I begin to panic sometimes and break down sometimes, and run to the bottle (it’s only a little wine I say) sometimes. This season, this spring, when I begin to panic-I’m going to run to the keyboard and write it all down.
I broke down for the first time this year on Saturday night at a friend’s house.
She lives with her mother, or more like her mother lives with her, and she feels burdened.
I understand but it also tore me wide open. It was less like a scab being picked and more like post-operative sutures being torn apart my hand by someone who said “this won’t hurt” and the someone was me.
I thought I was healed enough to hang with a girl and her mom. I guess I was wrong and so I’ve declared war on my brokenness.
My Plan.
1-Journel. Journal every stinking time I can’t breathe, function, cope. When I’m breaking down-I’m going to journal. I’m doing it every single day. Even on the good days to recount the progress and the Lords goodness in my healing and in my pain.
2-Pray. I attend a small group on Wednesdays and Church on Sundays and I’ve spoken with my pastor. I’m getting all prayed up in whatever I feel I need prayer for and whatever my prayer partners feel lead to pray for.
That’s it.
That’s my healing strategy.
I don’t want another spring to go by and make me feel like I’ve been hit by a train or like I’m being hunted by a pack of dogs.
If that kind of brokenness is what the Lord needs to use me for his glory that I submit to His will but I am going to work hard to get my spring-times back.
Yesterday at church, my pastor, Jim Pool of the Royal Oak Vineyard outside Detroit Michigan, was teaching on honoring your Mother and Father.
I totally lost it in the back row and wept and wept and wept silently. I’ve gotten good at silent weeping, but a wonderful older couple in our church, Tom and Mary Quinlan noticed. They come to me and laid hands on me and spoke healing into my brokenness.
I said “I still feel like I’ve been hit in the chest with a cannon ball”.
Mary said, “When you feel that feeling-don’t ask the Lord to take it away. Ask Him to fill it.”
So now as I feel this brokenness, which at the moment, feels more softball than cannon ball sized, I’m asking the Lord to fill that spot and now it feels like a golf ball.
Thank, Lord.
My scripture today is from Psalm 103
Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name.
All that is within me.
That means my broken heart.
My broken heart blesses you name, Lord Jesus.
Prayer:
Jesus, you came to reconcile ALL things to the Father. (Colossians 1:20)
That includes the tornado, my parent’s death and the ruined shell of a girl that was left behind. Me.
I believe you; please help my disbelief (Mathew)
God, send your spirit of healing to me and to all the broken and lost and fill our brokenness by your power.
Meet me here.
Touch my inmost being.
I love you, Father and even though I don’t understand You, I trust you and all of my hope is in you.
Thank you for giving me the courage to walk through this valley of darkness and in the shadow of death.
I know that you are with me. Send me comfort.
In the name of the healer Jesus, I ask.
Amen.
I am no longer panicking.
The Healing Season
The Healing Season
March 8th
4:01
I’m writing now because I can feel the shortness of breath sneaking in.
I’m feeling stressed, over-whelmed, a clenching in my jaw. I am biting my lip.
I’m a little dizzy.
It’s tornado season.
It will be 11 years in April. April 9th to be exact. Shoot. 4:05 a.m. April 9th of 1999 in Montgomery Ohio. To be exact.
7575 Cornell Road, Montgomery Ohio, to be exact.
The home of Lee and Jacque Cook-my parents to be exact-was struck by a tornado and killed them both.
Not quiet instantly-to be sadly and painfully exact-it cracked my father’s skull wide open and crushed ever bone in my mother’s body to the point that the first neighbor to rush to her said “she had no bones left” .
My heart in beating hard in my chests. I can’t exactly breathe. I’m gonna stop for a second and take three deep breaths and invite the Lord into my broken blown in heart.
Okay.
In those breaths, I heard the Lord say “Good, Shannyn.”
I’m writing this because I’ve made the decision to heal this year.
Every year, when the spring comes and the snow begins to thaw, I begin to panic sometimes and break down sometimes, and run to the bottle (it’s only a little wine I say) sometimes. This season, this spring, when I begin to panic-I’m going to run to the keyboard and write it all down.
I broke down for the first time this year on Saturday night at a friend’s house.
She lives with her mother, or more like her mother lives with her, and she feels burdened.
I understand but it also tore me wide open. It was less like a scab being picked and more like post-operative sutures being torn apart my hand by someone who said “this won’t hurt” and the someone was me.
I thought I was healed enough to hang with a girl and her mom. I guess I was wrong and so I’ve declared war on my brokenness.
My Plan.
1-Journel. Journal every stinking time I can’t breathe, function, cope. When I’m breaking down-I’m going to journal. I’m doing it every single day. Even on the good days to recount the progress and the Lords goodness in my healing and in my pain.
2-Pray. I attend a small group on Wednesdays and Church on Sundays and I’ve spoken with my pastor. I’m getting all prayed up in whatever I feel I need prayer for and whatever my prayer partners feel lead to pray for.
That’s it.
That’s my healing strategy.
I don’t want another spring to go by and make me feel like I’ve been hit by a train or like I’m being hunted by a pack of dogs.
If that kind of brokenness is what the Lord needs to use me for his glory that I submit to His will but I am going to work hard to get my spring-times back.
Yesterday at church, my pastor, Jim Pool of the Royal Oak Vineyard outside Detroit Michigan, was teaching on honoring your Mother and Father.
I totally lost it in the back row and wept and wept and wept silently. I’ve gotten good at silent weeping, but a wonderful older couple in our church, Tom and Mary Quinlan noticed. They come to me and laid hands on me and spoke healing into my brokenness.
I said “I still feel like I’ve been hit in the chest with a cannon ball”.
Mary said, “When you feel that feeling-don’t ask the Lord to take it away. Ask Him to fill it.”
So now as I feel this brokenness, which at the moment, feels more softball than cannon ball sized, I’m asking the Lord to fill that spot and now it feels like a golf ball.
Thank, Lord.
My scripture today is from Psalm 103
Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless His holy name.
All that is within me.
That means my broken heart.
My broken heart blesses you name, Lord Jesus.
Prayer:
Jesus, you came to reconcile ALL things to the Father. (Colossians 1:20)
That includes the tornado, my parent’s death and the ruined shell of a girl that was left behind. Me.
I believe you; please help my disbelief (Mathew)
God, send your spirit of healing to me and to all the broken and lost and fill our brokenness by your power.
Meet me here.
Touch my inmost being.
I love you, Father and even though I don’t understand You, I trust you and all of my hope is in you.
Thank you for giving me the courage to walk through this valley of darkness and in the shadow of death.
I know that you are with me. Send me comfort.
In the name of the healer Jesus, I ask.
Amen.
I am no longer panicking.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
After college graduation I stayed in my college town. I had a good job and so I stayed. I was the only one from my class that did.
My friends packed up and headed home. My degree is in acting so ,for them, their homes were mostly New York, L.A.. I stayed in Dayton, Ohio and fell fast and hard into unhealthy, distructive behavior.
I got tattoos.
I got a black leather biker jacket.
I got lost.
After just a couple of weeks of that, my dad showed up and my appartment door.
He had boxs and he packed them full of all of my things and put them and me in his van.
He took me home.
Sometimes I feel like the city of Detroit has gotten it's tattoos and biker jacket. Sometimes I feel like the city and it's people are lost and forgetting who we are.
Then I think of our Father God who loves us enough to let us fall into disrepair-but not distruction.
Help is on the way.
Hop in- cuz this van is going home.
I will be and Father to you, and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord God almighty.
2 Cor.6:18
My friends packed up and headed home. My degree is in acting so ,for them, their homes were mostly New York, L.A.. I stayed in Dayton, Ohio and fell fast and hard into unhealthy, distructive behavior.
I got tattoos.
I got a black leather biker jacket.
I got lost.
After just a couple of weeks of that, my dad showed up and my appartment door.
He had boxs and he packed them full of all of my things and put them and me in his van.
He took me home.
Sometimes I feel like the city of Detroit has gotten it's tattoos and biker jacket. Sometimes I feel like the city and it's people are lost and forgetting who we are.
Then I think of our Father God who loves us enough to let us fall into disrepair-but not distruction.
Help is on the way.
Hop in- cuz this van is going home.
I will be and Father to you, and you will be my sons and daughters, says the Lord God almighty.
2 Cor.6:18
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Have you ever gotten a sunburn on a really cloudy day?
Me, too.
Which reminds me that even when we can't see it, the sun is as shinning and powerful on dark days as when it's blazing before our very eyes.
The sun is shinning.
As as a Jesus follower, that's true of the Son as well.
Shine on Detroit. Nothing can take away your beautiful light.
Me, too.
Which reminds me that even when we can't see it, the sun is as shinning and powerful on dark days as when it's blazing before our very eyes.
The sun is shinning.
As as a Jesus follower, that's true of the Son as well.
Shine on Detroit. Nothing can take away your beautiful light.
Monday, August 3, 2009
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