"Lord, whatever it takes to reach the lost, I want to do it"

As most of you know I do not have a relationship with my mother and that because of my mother's addictions I basically raised myself since the age of six. I touch a little bit on it here only for the story sake but one day, if the Lord prompts me to, maybe I"ll blog my testimony but today isn't the time for that.

Over the last year God has been bringing our Outreach Ministry to a new level and changing how we serve His people. What we thought Outreach should look like was not what God wanted it to look like. If you've walked with the Lord long enough you know that sometimes how we think things should look and how He wants things to look can be totally different. At the beginning of the year I read the book Servolution which just sparked a whole new outlook on how God wants us to serve others. There is a specific line in the book where pastor Dino Rizzo says, "Whatever it takes to reach the lost", and when I read that I prayed, "Lord, whatever it takes to reach the lost, I want to do it". I was so excited and ready to fan the flame of this new spark God created in me but what I thought reaching the lost looked like and how Jesus wanted me to reach the lost wasn't exactly the same. 

It's my passion to help others and I am privileged to do what God has called me to do, although I work in the ministry I do not live with the people we reach out to nor do I have to travel for hours to work with them and certainly none of them gave birth to me. We listen, pray, counsel with them, we work with them through their situations, teach them how to build better lives and many times we become friends with them but we still leave them, go home to our family each day and in the end it still hits your heart different when it's your immediate family that you are trying to help.

Four years ago we had made a decision as a family that my mother's lifestyle is not appropriate nor safe for our family and had to sever ties with her as a mother and grandmother. Because her and I never had a mother-daughter bond, severing ties with her and working on  forgiveness of the things she has done throughout my life was pretty easy. What is not easy is having to deal with her.

I've spoken to my mother three times in the last three or four years and each time was because of a tragic event like a family death or her being close to her own death because of drug and alcohol overdoses. At the beginning of this summer the same scene was played out. I received a phone call that I'm quite used to receiving and I was told that she was incoherent and due to her choices she was being evicted from the place where she was living. At first I said, "I'm not going, I'm finished with her, she doesn't listen and I can't keep putting my family through this, I've been dealing with her for thirty three years and I'm tired of it"! And the Lord, just like he always does, reminded me of what I prayed for earlier this year, "Lord, whatever it takes to reach the lost, I want to do it", and so began the drama began.

Apparently someone needs to be legally responsible for adults who don't make wise choices and when they're not married that becomes they're children. The law says you can't force a person to go anywhere against their will without a court order so needless to say on a Friday afternoon, it wasn't easy getting her out of the place she was in but after invading peoples homes I'd never met before, dealing with the sheriff, and multiple phone calls we finally got my mother to a hospital. That was just the first day! Then trying to find facilities that would let her stay longer than a week, her getting mad at me because I refused to go back to the house she had been evicted from to get the her three closets full of clothes, her manipulation in the beginning of her detoxification process and the drama that comes with being in a rehab facility was all a bit much for me.

I forgot to mention that where she lives is an hour drive from my house, I'm a wife, a mother, I work in ministry and also work part time for my husband. Needless to say I do not have many minutes to spare to make hour long trips multiple times a week for my mother but again, "Lord, whatever it takes to reach the lost, I want to do it". Until four years ago she always had a husband that dealt with these things. I even had to mentally prepare myself to drop her off at a homeless shelter because we could not find a facility for her. I know you may be wondering why she couldn't come and stay with us but if you have ever dealt with someone who has an addiction problem the way my mother does you know that bringing a person like that into your home is not safe especially if you have children. Fortunately she found a half-way house that would take her for up to year and she seems to be making some progress.

I know with God ALL things are possible but I also know that people have to make choices to turn to him and do what is right. About the age of thirty I quit hoping for a change in my mother. I never quite praying for her but after years and years of lies, manipulations, and being in and out of more rehab facilities than I even knew existed, I just quit hoping for her change and just prayed for a miracle. Over the last few weeks I have been shocked at myself because I find myself wanting to send my mother cards or notes of encouragement each week or pictures of my son. I've even shared with her my blogs on grieving the death of my dad because she is still grieving the death of her own father. Her circumstances are different this time around, she has no home, no husband, no father, and I've asked her brother not to help her as long as I'm working with her because each of these men in her life have always enabled her  manipulation and addiction and ultimately they have contributed to the way she is today so maybe, just maybe without these things in her life this time will be different. I've often wondered why God allows my mother to stay alive when she is only existing but I know that clearly He did not give me to her so she could raise me because she didn't, but maybe God gave her to me for reasons I just don't know yet. I hope the next time I write about her she will have made much better progress.
And yes, I'm still saying, "Lord, whatever it takes to reach the lost, I want to do it".

***As a side note I have to say that I have a great support system around me in dealing with all of this. My husband is my hero. He's walked through a lot help me with my mother and my spiritual family has been so encouraging with their words and prayers and even helping me to find a facility for her. I'm very blessed with the people God has placed in my life. That is why I can say I love life even through the rough times.

...The Lord is Close to the Brokenhearted- Get Help

This will be my last posting about dealing with the death of my dad for now. I have tons more I would like to deal with but for now I want to move on to other things and as the Lord prompts me too I'll share more about grieving.

Writing about my experience has actually brought some freedom to me and I didn't expect for that to happen. There must be something about the possibility of the whole world knowing about your darkest times that bring a sense of relief.

I remember going into a few stores (even the Christian Book Store) looking for a book on grieving and only found three books! Yet there was no lack of Self Help books about Cooking, Dieting, Biblical Study(not on death or grieving), Computers etc. One out of three of those books brought me straight to God's word for each step of grieving that I dealt with and it brought me great comfort with each chapter. I believe as a family, a community, a church and a nation we do not do enough to help people during their grieving process and I hope that in some way I can help someone else who may come across here and read this. If you are reading this and have dealt with (or avoided) grief please know that your're not alone, your not crazy and that you must talk to people about what you're going through. If you don't feel comfortable going to your pastor's, leaders, family or just don't have anyone you can trust around you then find a grief counselor available in your area. They are trained, most of the time experienced grief themselves and understand what you're going through. And if you are in a church don't feel guilty about going to a grief counselor outside of your church. I went to a grief counselor outside of our church and I felt guilty at first but I spoke to my pastor about it before going and he was absolutely okay with it. You don't have to go to your pastor first but I recommend it if you have a good relationship with them.
Also, grief is not just experienced in death. You can be grieving a divorce, a loss of friendship, loss of job etc.

God, your family, your pastor's and your leaders want you to get better and as long as you're in a safe environment to do so then you need to go. And if you want to, I would be happy to listen and let you cry but when it seems like no one is there to help, God is ALWAYS there. He's the ultimate Healer and Comforter and can do for you what no one else can do.

...The Lord Is Close To The Brokenhearted-Joy

I've been on vacation the last two weeks and doing those dreaded vacation things like cleaning closets, ugh! I came across a drawer I had been avoiding cleaning that had all of my dad's medical supplies in it. I couldn't understand why we hang onto meaningless stuff when our loved one's die. I decided I was going to take it out and get rid of it. I mean it's only been a year and a half now, why haven't I done it? Well, as I pulled out the folder that his nurse had written notes in I realized why it's so hard. With each item I throw or give away it's like another part of my daddy that leaves and another memory that I may forget. I feel like I may not remember him if I get rid of all the stuff but I know this is just another part of the grieving process.

And then I realized how far I had come through this entire year and a half long process (and I'm sure it's not over) and I'm so grateful God never left me because I probably wouldn't be here if I didn't have Him to hang onto.

About five or six months after my dad's death I remember sitting in a Bible study at the Hope Center and my pastor had been doing a study with us on Fruits of the Spirit. This particular week he was teaching on Joy. I was just getting back to "enjoying" life again and this particular subject interested me. He spoke about how when we walk in the Spirit we have Joy regardless of the circumstances in our life. Sitting there listening to my pastor I became scared and nervous because I thought, "I lost my Joy after my daddy's death and I'm struggling to get it back, was I not walking int he Spirit? The day before my daddy died, my life was full of Joy and all of the sudden in an instant it was ripped right out from under me and I"m slowly getting it back I don't want lose it again".

I asked multiple questions during that study because I couldn't grasp why I had lost my Joy. I loved God and did my best to live the way I'm suppose to according to his Word and I thought I walked in the Spirit but apparently I wasn't or I wouldn't have felt this way. (That's just what the devil was trying to make me think differently) I was missing something in that Bible study and I felt more lost than before. A few people tried to explain it and I still felt lost but God is so good because you know you He always has the right answers and when we go to him he shows us exactly what we need.

When I went home and prayed about this situation the Lord brought to my memory the day I came out of the trance like state I was in from my daddy's death. It was a Monday morning two months after my dad had died and I was driving to work and all the sudden I felt myself say, "It feels so good to see the sun out today"! I even tweeted it after I said it because I was so excited. I'm pretty sure that had to be my first non mourning post on Twitter or Facebook since my daddy's death. I felt so good that day and thought finally I see some light in this dark mourning period. On that morning drive to work I reflected back on how I functioned the two months prior and was astonished at how the Lord took care of me.

I don't know if I remember much those first two months but as I looked back that morning I physically could see the Holy Spirit guiding me throughout those first two months. It was like I was standing on the outside watching my body while the Holy Spirit helped me to function each day. In my previous post I wrote that I felt soulless and like my body was a shell just functioning. I believe whole heartedly that the Holy Spirit kept me alive and moving. And I'm not talking in some psycho babble stuff you see on t.v., I'm talking about the One that Jesus said, the Father will send, the One that never leaves us and will remind us of everything that Jesus taught us. That Holy Spirit was with me, He guided me when I couldn't function physically and He reminded me, in my spirit, of everything I was taught prior to my daddy's death and I was able to make it through the darkest period of my life.

So in my prayer time, when the Lord reminded me of that particular day of reflection, I realized that what I had been looking for these months was "happiness" not Joy. Joy had never left me. The Webster's definition for joy is... emotion of great delight or happiness caused bysomething exceptionally good or satisfying... I can tell you that if I had went off of Webster's definition I wouldn't be here to write this so I'm glad that I believe what God's word says about Joy. "For the joy of the Lord is your strength." Nehemiah 8:10.

The Joy of the Lord was, is and always will be my strength and I don't have to fear I will ever lose it because I never did the first time.

...The Lord Is Close To The Brokenhearted-3

The next two months were literally a blur. Spiritually I felt lost and disconnected from God. I wanted to drink or take a pill so that I would not exist anymore. Physically and mentally I was exhausted! Before my dad's death my memory was pretty sharp and now I couldn't even remember what I was suppose to do the next minute! I was having to admit that I was no longer "SuperCandy". I am not being over dramatic when I say I felt soulless. I don't even know if soulless is a word but I felt like my body was an empty shell that was functioning but I was not the one making it function. I later found out how it functioned. Hopefully, I will remember to write about that part as I continue.
My heart had been shattered to pieces and I didn't know how to fix it. I have resources to fix everyone and everything and for the first time in my life I didn't know how to fix this or how to find someone to fix this. The more I think about it I don't know what made me crazier, my daddy's death or the fact that I couldn't fix the way I felt. And to add to the shock James said (ever so lovingly and desperately), "I just wish I could help you but I don't know how and I feel so helpless". My sweet husband. I just don't know what I would have done without him. He took great care of me during that time. He still tells me that he would have never thought I would have taken my daddy's death so hard and during that season he was worried I would never get over the grief I felt. (Neither did I on both instances) He also says, he hopes he doesn't die before me because he doesn't think I could go through that again. Honestly there's a small part of me that hopes the same but I definitely have a different perspective towards death and grieving now.

Psalm 34:18-The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
I could barely pray and that was horrible! I love God with all my heart, I try my hardest each day to please Him, my life is ministry, I read my word and I couldn't fathom ever living my life without Him so why couldn't I pray?
Where was He? Why wasn't He close to me? Why couldn't I feel Him? Even after that horrible day I never doubted God or lost faith, I just couldn't feel Him. I still don't know the answer's to all of those questions but I do know one answer, He was close to me just like His word says, but because I had just went through this traumatic experience, physically I could not feel the connection with God but my spirit never disconnected with God. Which I was able to see as time went on. Even as I spoke those words to God that I wrote about in the previous blog, where I told Him I want to be purposeful during this time of grief, I still didn't feel him. I just cried out to Him because that was all I knew how to do.
Psalm 119:11- I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you.
I'm not a Bible scholar, I'm far from knowing my word the way I should and more than likely I can't tell you the exact place to find a verse without looking it up in the Concordance but I did spent most of my school years memorizing Bible verses and as an adult walking with the Lord I love to read my word and love to memorize scripture especially when it pertains to a situation I'm in. So one thing I knew was that after many years of reading my Bible, His word was hidden in my heart and all I had to do was be obedient to it. I knew  Satan wanted me to keep my mouth closed and keep my feelings locked away but I refused to let him win. I confessed the things that I was feeling to my husband and to my pastor. I may not have felt like telling them but I was not going to let Satan take me down without a fight. I was to physically exhausted to fight but I could fight by confessing.
One of the many "crazy" thoughts I experienced was that I wanted to drink myself into oblivion or take a pill to end it all. Before I walked with the Lord I didn't have a problem with alcohol or drugs. Now don't get me wrong I liked to party it up pretty often in my teens and early twenties but I was not addicted to alcohol or drugs and once I gave my life to the Lord it was the easiest thing for me to turn away from and have no desire for. (with the exception of cigarettes which I have been tobacco free for six years now but that's a whole 'nother blog)
A couple of months before my daddy's death I had won this unique, beautifully designed bottle of Tequila while on a cruise and we kept it on our entertainment center as a decorative piece. Since James nor I had drank alcohol in six or seven years and didn't have an addiction to it we never thought twice about displaying it. I remember clearly the day I started looking at that bottle differently. I thought to myself, "I could open that bottle and guzzle that thing down and I would be out of it in no time"! I pondered that thought for about a day or so and finally brought the beautifully designed unopened bottle of Tequila to James and said, "I can't have it in here, I want to drink it".  Being the wise, protective husband he is, he didn't just throw it in the garbage, he opened it and poured it out onto the ground so it could no longer be a temptation to me. I had done it! I confessed my temptation! I fought the devil and had won! Well, at least this battle anyway...

...The Lord Is Close To The Brokenhearted-2

Before April 6th, 2009 life was always good. I loved EVERYTHING about life, including the bad stuff, because I've seen God be so faithful to me and my family.
On April 6th, 2009 I was changed physically and spiritually forever.

I'll never forget the early morning phone call from my sister saying that my daddy had passed away just an hour before. I was so mad that I wasn't there. How dare she be the one who got to be with him at the end of his life when I was the one who took care of him all those years and had spent weeks at the hospital with him! James and I hurriedly got dressed and rushed to the hospital to see my daddy one last time.

My sister was waiting in the parking lot to tell me good bye. I was full of emotions! Why had she left my daddy alone in the room? I couldn't get in that room fast enough knowing he was alone. What if he needed something? Who was going to take care of him? I knew he was dead but that didn't matter, someone needed to be there to take care of him? James nor I was prepared for my reaction when I walked into that room. In all 32 years of my life on this earth I had been strong enough to handle whatever was thrown my way. I was a survivor of many hurts and abandonment's and I totally controlled every aspect of my life including my feelings and this would be no different, or so I thought.

When I walked into my daddy's hospital room and saw him lying on the bed lifeless, I completely lost all control of my thoughts, my feelings, and any dignity I had. All I remember was crying uncontrollably and mumbling statements that had the word daddy in them. I would have never ever touched a dead body before that day but I knew that once I left that room, it was final, I would never touch him again so I just wanted to keep touching his forehead and not ever stop. I don't even remember leaving out of the hospital but I'm sure James guided me out of there gracefully.(I hope he did anyway)

We had my daddy cremated and I missed him so much I even considered sleeping with his ashes next to me. To be totally honest the only reason I probably didn't was because James would have never allowed it. I can't recall ever feeling "not in control" before but I was definitely not in control of anything my body was feeling or doing. I sobbed uncontrollably for days and nights. I'd wake up and just cry. I didn't even know a person could cry uncontrollably! It seemed like every fifteen minutes I would cry and all I could say was, "I just miss my daddy". Sometimes, in a quick glance, I thought I would see him. I really thought I was going crazy and that I needed to be locked up.

I'm certain my daddy knew Jesus, I knew he was in heaven, I knew he could walk again and that he was completely whole but he was whole and in heaven without me! How was I suppose to take care of him if he was in heaven? I knew God was quite capable of taking care of my daddy but God couldn't take care of my daddy the way I could take care of him because I was the one he loved and needed for all these years. My husband and I sacrificed many days to be with him and take care of him. How dare God take him from me! There was no physical person to be mad at for taking my daddy and since God is the Creator of life and death He was the only one I could be angry with. All I wanted was my daddy to be here with me. Nothing else in the world mattered to me during that time.

I'm so grateful to my spiritual family that surrounded me and took care of everything, from cleaning my house, to preparation of food, or just being with me so I wasn't alone while James was at work. I thought I would be glad to go back to work but if I had to do it all over again I would have taken off another two or three weeks. That first day back at work was stressful. In ministry our job is people. It's what I love to do. That's the reason we exist is to reach lost and hurting people. Well let me just say, I didn't feel like reaching the lost and hurting because I was the one lost and hurting. Let me make it very clear to anyone reading this, no one asked me or made feel like I had to go back to work. I have great pastor's and great leaders and I could have very well taken the time off with no questions asked. I chose to go back to work because I thought I needed to stay busy to make the pain go away. After all, I had to get back "in control" of the pain I was feeling. WRONG! The pain was still there and it was not going away anytime soon. Honestly, I thought the pain would never go away.

One of the sweet women of our church had a miscarriage around the same time as my daddy's death. A few weeks later we were both talking bout our recent experience dealing with our loss and I remember telling her, " I want to embrace this time and learn from it, I don't want to go through this dark time without it having a purpose", and I told God (who I happened to still be mad at), "God make this purposeful, don't let me walk through this dark, empty time and waste all this pain that I had to go through. It has to have a purpose". God definitely didn't allow it to be wasted and He has been dealing with me for some time now to write about my grieving period. The tears flow now as I write this, which is part of the reason I hesitated to start writing about it but just recently my daddy's brother passed away and I had the opportunity to be with my cousin as she went through the first few days after his death. I was able to share with her some of my experience and some of the things she could expect to go through. So my hope is that as I become very transparent and write about the things I went through during the months following my daddy's death that it will help other's understand they are not crazy, it's normal to feel all the emotions they will feel, not to be ashamed of those feelings and to talk with people who are safe and that you can trust about what you are feeling.

There were so many different feelings, emotions and physical transitions that I went through that I think I will break them up so they are not all dealt with at once. If only one person comes across this and it helps them know they are not crazy, then praise God because I would never want someone to think they are going through this experience alone.

The Lord Is Close To The Brokenhearted...

I will never forget the day I sat in the hospital room and wrote these words...



My Daddy, Through My Eyes


Thank God for my daddy being there when I was born, because if it wasn't for him my mother would have named me Cinica(no offense to anyone with that name). Even from the first moments of my life I was important to him because he realized my name was something I had to live with for the rest of my life, and from that moment on I was his little girl. I remember the precious moments I spent with him on Saturday mornings & we would go to the "Stop & Go" to get a Slushi drink and on the way there he would say, "We're almost to the tracks" and he would drive fast so it would tickle my stomach when we would go down the other side of the railroad tracks. That was so simple but it is such a great memory for me. There is something about being "Daddy's Little Girl" that has a special place that no one but daddy's girls can understand. No matter what I did or said my daddy was always there. When I messed up he never judged me, and he loved me right in the midst of the turmoil, and it was turmoil that I usually created for myself.
My daddy was not a person who said "I love you" to often but he didn't have to, because his actions spoke Love louder than his words ever could. As I now come to this point in life and see my daddy near the end of his, I only can pray that I showed him as much love by my actions as he did to me.
I never thought it would break my heart this much to watch the first man that I ever loved, going through the journey of passing on into his next journey to be with the one we can all call Daddy. And just as my earthly daddy leaves this place, I know my heavenly Daddy will never leave me and I will one day be joined with both of them for eternity. What a glorious day that will be when all the pieces of my heart will be back together again.


Needless to say that I was in no way prepared for what would happen next...