Big Lessons

A food for thought post…

Jan 13th, 2011

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I received this in email today and thought it was too good not to share it: (you may have seen it already though)

Three Trees

Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods. They were discussing their hopes and dreams when the first tree said, “Someday I hope to be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. I could be decorated with intricate carvings and everyone would see the beauty.”

Then the second tree said, “Someday I will be a mighty ship. I will take Kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull.”

Finally the third tree said, “I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People will see me on top of the hill and look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God and how close to them I am reaching. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me.”

After a few years of praying that their dreams would come true, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. When one came to the first tree he said, “This looks like a strong tree, I think I should be able to sell the wood to a carpenter,” and he began cutting it down. The tree was happy, because he knew that the carpenter would make him into a treasure chest.

At the second tree the woodsman said, “This looks like a strong tree. I should be able to sell it to the shipyard.” The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship.

When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, the tree was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, “I don’t need anything special from my tree, I’ll take this one,” and he cut it down.

When the first tree arrived at the carpenters, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not at all what he had prayed for.

The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end.

The third tree was cut into large pieces, and left alone in the dark.

The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams.

Then one day, a man and woman came to the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box that was made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but this manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time.

Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn’t think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and He stood and said “Peace” and the storm stopped. At this time, the tree knew that it had carried the King of Kings in its boat.

Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as the people mocked the man who was carrying it. When they came to a stop, the man was nailed to the tree and raised in the air to die at the top of a hill. When Sunday came, the tree came to realize that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as was possible, because Jesus had been crucified on it.

The moral of this story is that when things don’t seem to be going your way, always know that God has a plan for you. If you place your trust in Him, God will give you great gifts.

Each of the trees got what they wanted, just not in the way they had imagined.

We don’t always know what God’s plans are for us. We just know that His Ways are not our ways, but His ways are always best.

~~~~~
Images: dan / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

How do you (did you) do it?

Sep 28th, 2010

by Nickie.

7 comments

I had an eye opening experience last week with Miss Priss. A while back, I allowed her to go on facebook. Without her knowledge and for safety reasons, I log on her profile once or twice each week and check to see who she is talking to privately. (I can see everything else from my own profile.) For the past few months everything has been good. She talks to friends from school and church, as well as our preacher, his wife and our youth minister. Since she had been showing that she can be somewhat responsible, we purchased a cell phone for her birthday. We decided to get the cell phone because of sleep-overs, church events, and ball games– it is easy to keep track of her whereabouts if she has phone. This also gets checked periodically, without her knowledge. (Because, let’s be honest, if she were doing something she knows she shouldn’t, she’d be sure to cover her tracks. I want to know what is going on with my kiddos.)

Last week, we had a bedroom issue with her. Specifically, her room looked like a clothing factory exploded in it, as did her bathroom. She gets one gentle reminder of this daily responsibility, and knows there are consequences if the reminder has to be repeated. Well, the reminder had to be repeated several times. Why? She was too busy texting. So, I told her the next time she neglected her room, I was taking her phone away for a few days. On Wednesday morning, I stepped into her room and the clothing factory explosion had multiplied. I didn’t dare look in her bathroom. The bedroom was enough. I took her phone. She went to school.

About three hours later, her phone went off. It was a text message from a name I didn’t recognize. (Aha, a new contact.) Since I didn’t recognize the name or number, I scrolled through the messages until I saw this “Do you have pic message?” Instant red flag. (She does not have a camera phone for this specific reason. Nor does her phone have net capabilities.) After reading all the inbox and sent messages, I switched over to the net and checked her facebook. I found that she had added a new male friend they night before, and had communicated via personal message– where they exchanged phone numbers. I clicked on this male friend’s name (a name I did not recognize) and found that he will soon be twenty years old. My temperature immediately rose and I’m sure steam was pouring from my ears. Right then, at that moment, I sent a message to this person and told him, very directly, to never ever contact my daughter again… and reminded him of the legal implications if he did. (Her age vs. his.) I then blocked him from contacting her on facebook. After about half an hour of fuming, I changed her facebook password.

When she got home from school, we had a very very long talk. She confessed that she’d ‘met’ this -boy- through a friend from school (who is also on facebook and is also in the seventh grade). She thought since her friend -knew- him it was okay. She learned quickly that it was not okay. I learned that she is not nearly knowledgeable enough about boys and the internet.

Priss didn’t understand why I was so upset about her giving her phone number to a complete stranger; or why I was upset that he asked about ‘pic messaging.’ She just didn’t understand the dangers, or the things that older kids (practically grown men) do with picture messages. Nothing good was behind a near twenty year old asking my daughter if she had picture messaging.

So, we had another talk. About the dangers of the internet (in more depth than any previous talk); and we had a talk about boys and girls. We had ‘the’ talk. This talk wasn’t something I wanted to have with my twelve year old daughter, but one that was obviously necessary given the attention she gets from boys, especially older boys, and the fact that she is in junior high. (And there are girls younger than her that have already given birth.) We had a good talk, just she and I, and she now understands things from a mature perspective. (I have always had the sex talk with my children, one on one, and explained the truth of sex, pregnancy, STDs, etc. Being a victim of child molestation, I want my children to learn the truth– not something their friends tell them, or worse. Knowledge is a great defense, in my opinion.) She also understands it from a Biblical perspective, which was one of the most important things I wanted her to learn. She understands why a boy asking about picture messaging can be a bad thing (ever heard the term sexting?) and she understands why she is not allowed and will never be allowed to be friends (or boyfriend/girlfriend) with someone who is more than two years older than she is.

During this, she found out that I do check her facebook and cell phone regularly. If she were older, I may hear “you don’t trust me” or “you invaded my privacy.” I explained to her that (1) my job is to teach her right from wrong and ensure that she makes good decisions, (2) I wouldn’t be doing my job as her mother if I didn’t do everything in my power to make sure she is making good decisions, and that includes checking facebook, cell phones, and email if necessary, and (3) until she is an adult and capable of making responsible decisions, there is a limit on privacy. And I certainly learned a big lesson in all this– this world is extremely dangerous and I have to do everything I can to prepare my kids for it.

So now I ask you: how did you have ‘the talk’ with your teens (or have you had) and how did they respond? How do you handle privacy with your teens and does it depend on their age? How do you handle daughters and boys/dating (or vice versa if you don’t have a daughter)? And… if you haven’t done any of these things yet, how do you plan to handle it? (So many questions…)

A Turning Point on the Road of Survival

Sep 20th, 2010

by Nickie.

3 comments

One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned in my 30 plus years of life has been… forgiveness. Not fleeting forgiveness– forgiving someone for something they may have said that hurt your feelings; or forgiving your best friend for not calling you for a few months. Those things are easy to forgive, and most of us don’t even have to think about it. What I’m talking about is true, deep in your soul forgiveness… for something someone has done to you; for a wrong someone has done; for a tragedy that has hit you at the hands of someone else. But what if you can’t find forgiveness? Or what if it goes even deeper than that– what if you have to find forgiveness in a place you didn’t know existed?

“If you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” Matthew 6:14, 15

For some, this is a hard bite to swallow, and understandably so. It is also not something that happens overnight. This is something I have had to live personally. Something I struggled with for a long time. Something I thought I had done, but later found out hadn’t done completely.

For years I was tortured with the shame and stigma associated with child molestation. The torture was at my own hands. The shame and stigma was something I placed on myself. I was desperately trying to keep my head above water while the weight of the past kept me chained to the bottom. I was confused, my thoughts were scattered, and I wasn’t sure how to deal with the emotional baggage that had been following me around for so many years. I had tried desperately to keep those memories locked in a cell and hidden in the farthest recesses of my mind. But every attempt was futile. Some thing, some where, would bring them back. Something would trigger the locking mechanism, the door would swing wide open, and the memories would plow their way to the surface. And when they did, I’d bury myself in denial. I’d fight hard to push them back into their dark little cell. I wouldn’t give them a voice; I feared them too much. I didn’t want those memories to be a part of who I am but rather a vision of another life; one carefully separated from the ME of reality; like watching a sad movie, but that movie being about someone else.

The reality is… those memories are mine and that life was mine. That little girl in the sad movie is me. As I began to allow the memories out of their cell, I began going through a wave of emotions not unlike that of grief; after all, I was grieving.

I cried– cried for the little girl that mentally died at the age of 6; cried for an innocence that was taken so quickly and savagely; cried for the teenager that was too naive and inexperienced to know that the shame of those memories were what fueled her reckless behavior; cried for the adult who was now reliving something that she tried so hard to forget.

I became angry. I was angry at myself, my abuser, my family… I directed my anger in the direction of anyone who loved me. I built a seemingly impenetrable wall around myself– to protect myself from being hurt again. Instead of being hurt, I was doing the hurting. My anger led me to believe that everyone I loved was going to hurt me at some point, so I may as well get to them before they got to me.

I became depressed. My world became so dark and bleak that I didn’t want to walk outside. Things that were once joyful became a chore. Things that made me happy seemed a million miles away. Darkness was the only thing I craved. (I still, to this day, have to fight the ugly monster of depression at times.)

This was a long process. Something that went on for years; not months, weeks or days. Decades. It was a constant yo-yo of highs and lows. A constant roller coaster of ups and downs. All accompanied with constant torture of my inner-self.

Until one day, I opened the pages of a book and began reading. I read about life, the meaning of life, and about how much God loves us in spite of our faults. I read about seeking and finding. I read about tragedy and triumph. And I read about forgiveness and love. During that reading, I once again faced my demons head on and in doing so, found out a little more about myself.

I thought I had forgiven my abuser several years prior, but realized that I hadn’t truly let it go. I hadn’t truly forgiven what he had done to me and the after-math of his choices. I also realized that there were others I had yet to forgive– who weren’t even involved but whom I had held responsible in some small, or large, way. I worked on this. I prayed. And in time, I learned to forgive… forgiveness from the very depths of my soul. But even that wasn’t the end.

What I learned about myself was that I had never forgiven myself. Somehow over the years, in the roller coaster of emotions, I had turned my shame into blame. I blamed myself for my childhood. I blamed myself for something I had absolutely no control over. This blame led to a deeper sense of shame, which led to a deeper sense of despair, anger, depression, and every other human emotion possible. I had to find a way to convince the little girl from back then that she wasn’t to blame, and should not feel ashamed. I had to reach back well more than twenty years and tell her “It’s okay.”

This nearly thirty year journey that had taken me from one extreme to the other was, finally, coming to an end. I was finally a a point of acceptance, but I didn’t reach that point alone. I finally realized that I didn’t have to bear this cross by myself. The turning point came when, while reading a great book, I came across a poem by Russell Kelfer and this particular passage jumped off the page:

No, that trauma you faced was not easy.
And God wept that it hurt you so;
But it was allowed to shape your heart,
So that into His likeness you’d grow.

I read and reread, focusing on this part alone. And it hit me… the nearly three decades I had fought this battle, I hadn’t been alone. As alone in the world as I’d felt at times, I had never been alone. He knew the trouble I was going through, and He knew how my heart heart. He knew how difficult it was for me, and He knew how ashamed I felt. And when I realized this– when I scanned the nearly three decades of memories and realized that He indeed had been there all along, I sobbed like a little child. He had reached for me so many times, and I had turned away. He had tried to comfort me so many times and I didn’t allow myself to see it. He had tried to heal me so many times, but I instead chose to try to heal myself. And I failed, miserably.

But now…. now I was finally being healed. I could finally see the light at the end of the long dark tunnel. I sobbed, and I sobbed, and I pulled every memory I could summon out of the recesses of my mind and gave them to Him. I pulled every emotion– every bit of fear; every bit of shame; every bit of doubt; all the anger, resentment, and rage and gave it to Him. I literally dumped it all at His feet. And I finally forgave myself. I forgave myself for all the things I’d done to myself; for all the mistakes I’d made; for all the wrongs I’d done to others in an attempt at self-healing; all the things I’d done while in denial of my reality. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

With the love of God and the strength of His Spirit, I forgave all that had to be forgiven– myself included. And now I am at peace. Now I can share openly and freely. I can talk about the little girl that was me, is still me but all grown up. I can tell my story and I can fight to help the next little girl who comes along and maybe, hopefully, prevent one girl from going through what I have.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

Where do you draw the line and tear down walls?

Sep 16th, 2010

by Nickie.

4 comments

Have you ever been the object of ridicule? Have you ever been the butt of someone’s joke? Have you ever heard someone criticizing, making presumptions, or making fun of someone because they are different? I can say yes to all of these questions. And I can tell you… it doesn’t feel good.

I read a lot of blogs. Some I’ve found recently; some I’ve been reading for upwards of three years. One of the most disappointing things I’ve seen on the long-time reads is a post or posts that are solely for the purpose of making fun of someone or a group of someones. Yesterday, I found that a blog I’ve read, off and on, for a while– a few years– has done– has been doing– exactly that. Somehow I missed all these posts before, but I didn’t miss them yesterday.

There are a lot of people who justify the things they say by adding “no offense intended” but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. One doesn’t criticize, ridicule, or make fun for any other purpose. To elevate yourself at the expense of others? I can’t even begin to describe how wrong that is. We see it everyday in comedians… not all comedians, but many, make their living off ridiculing and making fun of others. I’m not saying humor is a bad thing– on the contrary, humor– laughter– is a good thing. But at what cost? Where do we draw the line?

If there were a blogger in the community who was making herself (or himself) known by the criticizing and making fun of homosexuals, would you continue to read? If there were a blogger in the community who was making herself known by criticizing and making racist remarks, would you keep reading? If there were a blogger who was making herself known by making fun of those who are mentally and physically disadvantaged, would you continue reading? I’ve seen and heard people who blatantly protest those who use derogatory names to describe homosexual men who exhibit feminine qualities. I’ve seen and heard people stand up against those who call people of different races derogatory names. And I’ve seen and heard people rise in anger against those who call the physically or mentally disadvantaged derogatory names.

So why does no one stand up and protest when one makes remarks, criticizes, or makes fun of an entire region of people just because their lifestyle is different than what they are used to? What is the difference? Why do readers laugh along and encourage someone to make fun of ‘rednecks’ and ‘hillbillies’ and people who live in the southern region of this country… and see it as acceptable? The same can be said for any geographic region, and not just of this country. Why do people see different cultures as free reign for jokes and ridicule and discrimination?

If a person publicly protests the discrimination and bias against sexual orientation, race, religion, or any other host of things… then what kind of message are they sending when they alienate a region by their jokes and so-called humor? Is it any different than the ones they are protesting? No, it is not. In fact, to stand up for one group while doing that exact thing to another is hypocritical.

I didn’t find a single thing I read on that particular blog yesterday funny, in the least. In fact, it upset me to find someone who I liked and respected making fun of my region, my culture, my heritage. It upset me to find that she fell right into those labels, stereotypes, and preconceived notions that so many others have of my region. Not only did I stop reading and following, the respect I had for her as a woman and blogger is gone. (And this is not the first one.) How is that for community togetherness?

When are people going to tear down the walls that separate us and realize we are all the same, regardless of our differences? When are people going to stop elevating their own self-worth and esteem at the expense of others; when are they going to get off their high-horse? At the end of the day, we are all human beings trying to make it in a very cruel and evil world. We are women and men, daughters and sons, sisters and brothers, mothers and fathers; we are not stereotypes and labels. We are people, one and the same. We all bleed; we all hurt; we all suffer; we all laugh; we all cry; we all live; and we all die. When are people going to draw the line and say enough is enough?

“Therefore, accept each other just as Christ has accepted you so that God will be given glory.” Romans 15:7

Goats, lambs, quilt holes, and hops… it’s Wednesday!!

Aug 11th, 2010

by Nickie.

2 comments

Today, I’m jumping aboard the blog-hop train… because it’s fun and such a great way to meet new blogger with similar interests! So, if you’re visiting via the blog-hop, WELCOME! Feel free to have a look around my little web home. You can learn about my family and me on the About Me page found on the menu just above this post. Or you can comb the archives or recent posts. Feel free to leave a comment on any post! (I &hearts; comments!) I’ll be hopping around the world of mom-lady-chick-girl-women blogs shortly and hope to see YOU!! In the meantime, I have a little something I’d like to share with you… I received this in e-mail this morning and thought it was too good to not share it!

“The Quilt Holes”

As I faced my Maker at the last judgment, I knelt before the Lord along with all the other souls. Before each of us laid our lives like the squares of a quilt in many piles; an angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life. But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was. They were filled with giant holes. Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life. I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all. I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and the bright hues of worldly fortune. I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened. My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty, like binding air. Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of truth. The others rose; each in turn, holding up their tapestries. So filled their lives had been.

My angel looked upon me and nodded for me to rise. My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn’t had all the earthly fortunes. I had love in my life and laughter. But there had also been trials of illness and wealth, and false accusations that took from me my world, as I knew it. I had to start over many times. I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I spent many nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life. I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully, each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgmental gaze of those who unfairly judged me. And now, I had to face the truth.. My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it was. I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light. An awe-filled gasp filled the air.

I gazed around at the others who stared at me with wide eyes. Then, I looked upon the tapestry before me. Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, the face of Christ. Then our Lord stood before me, with warmth and love in His eyes. He said, ‘Every time you gave over your life to Me, it became My life, My hardships, and My struggles. Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let Me shine through, until there was more of Me than there was of you.’

May all our quilts be threadbare and worn, allowing Christ to shine through!

author unknown

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From Women of Faith Wednesday Talk Back: Do you tend to be more of a leaping lamb or a fainting goat?

I have to be honest and say, I’ve never really thought about it. (That would make this a very good question also!) I actually see myself as being both… a leaping lamb and a fainting goat. Of course, I can’t be both at the same time. But at different points of my life, I have been either one or the other. At this point, I am more of a leaping lamb. But who knows what tomorrow may bring. Anything could happen… I could easily stumble… because I’m human. And I live in a sinfully human world. Something could happen and I could become that fainting goat– trying desperately to run from whatever circumstance has arisen. I could try to close my eyes to it and pretend it isn’t happening. I could even do this for hours, days, weeks, or months. But at some point, that circumstance is going to hit me right between the eyes and I’m going to realize that I can no longer play the fainting goat– I have to be that leaping lamb– face it, but not alone– take the leap. If life were easy, there would be no need for Him. My life is far from easy, and that is how I expect it to be.

Women of Faith Wednesday Talk Back blog hop: