Inquisitions make me poignant…

Inquisitions make me a bit poignant. You know the ones, “So what does your mom think about…” or “where do your parents live?” or “what was it like where you grew up?”. These things come up in conversation when people are getting to know one another. If I lie, then I’ve committed a sin. If I tell the truth, I divulge too much information and seem obnoxious or mentally off balance or something…

My daughter asked me a question tonight. She said, “Momma, what was your first Cabbage Patch doll’s name?”. Well, I only had one, but I didn’t tell her that. I said, “Her name was Arlene Faith.” She said, “When was her birthday?” I thought about it. “I don’t remember.” I asked her if she wanted a Cabbage Patch doll (she’s 12). She said, “NO!” with eyes rolling in her head. Then she asked me “Did you play with her?” I said, “No. She just kind of sat on my bed or around somewhere.” And then, she paused and asked me this, “Did you sleep with her?”. My heart started racing. I realized how different we were. This child’s mind of hers. When I was her age, I was practically a woman in the household I lived in. I started to explain it to her. I said this:
“NO, Courtney, I grew up very different from you. I didn’t have someone tucking me in and saying prayers over me every night. But, someone did come into my room almost every night. They came to touch me or have sex with me. I didn’t sleep with a teddy bear or a baby doll. I slept with fear. ” She looked at me with her big blue innocent eyes. No tears or fear, but with an intense desire to know and understand. I told her, “I lived my life trying to be invisible in that house, to stay under the radar. I didn’t want anyone to know that I existed so that hopefully they would just forget about me and not hit me or hump me. So I walked on eggshells all the time, full of anxiety and a bundle of nerves. I always felt like someone was watching me or was going to get me. I was deathly afraid of the dark until I was well into my 20’s. When I left that house, ironically, I wanted EVERYBODY to notice me and love me. I was so lonely that I had sex with just about every guy who showed an interest. My point is this, I hurt myself with my actions more than they ever hurt me. My drugs and alcohol and sexual misconduct produced shame, guilt, and pain that was unrelenting.” Then I made sure she heard this, “But, don’t feel sorry for me. I am fine. I just thought you should understand that sometimes it’s hard for me to relate to where you are and what you are thinking, because honestly, I haven’t been there. I think sometimes I envy that. I appreciate your innocence so much, but I am jealous also.” She quietly retreated back to her world. I’m not sure if I enlightened her or infected her.

I know that none of this was in vain. It’s moments like these that hurt, though. They are fleeting and few, and they are discernable. I know that she has to hear this stuff. I am grateful that she doesn’t understand. I am so thankful that she has no idea and can’t compare it to anything. Even more pleasing is that she doesn’t look at me any differently. I love that.

Some people may balk at these confessions to my daughter. Well, she’s my daughter and I feel that she should know her mother past, present, and future. I don’t have the privilege of knowing mine. NO one will talk to me candidly about her. Ever since she died, everyone puts her on this pedestal and refuses to concede that she was ever anything but ethereal. I find it endearing, but arresting.

Ahhhhh…so the rant ends. I have no idea how a conversation about a Cabbage Patch doll turned into a full fledge disclosure, but it did, and that is just fine. We have had this discussion many times and probably will many more. It opens doors and builds trust and hopefully (I can only pray) she will trust me enough to communicate with me through these ever so formative years. She has seen the metamorphosis of her mother, first hand. She remembers what Budweiser smells like on this mother’s breath when I kissed her goodnight. BUT, now she trusts that she will never have to endure that again. Now, this mother lays her hands on her, on my knees, and prays her out EVERY night, asking God to command angels to camp around her and keep her safe. I know without a doubt that one angel is always there.♥♥♥

Love and Respect


Boundaries with Kids (Pastor GF Watkins lesson @ PowerHouse Christian Center)

Psalm 127:1,3-5 Unless the Lord builds a house, the work of the builders is wasted. Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from Him.

Your children have a purpose! They are a heritage to shape,change, and use in your life. One of the biggest challenges we face in raising our children is ENABLING instead of EMPOWERING! YOU are the standard in their life. Read the Word of God with your children and allow them to ask questions and find the answers with them. We can’t expect the school or daycare or ball team to raise our children. I hear complaints all the time about God not being in schools and no prayer – what’s happening in your home? Is God in your home? Do your children know how to pray? Prayer doesn’t have to be shouted from the microphone or done in unison. Christ is in our schools if He is in our children. Prayer is in our schools if we have taught our children that they can pray.
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2 Corinthians 5:10 For we must all stand before Christ to be judged. We will each receive whatever we deserve for the good or evil we have done in this earthly body.

Don’t be condemned, be convicted. We will all have to account for our lives, believers and nonbelievers alike. Motivation will result in transformation!
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Maturity is the objective.

Ephesians 4:14-16 Then we will no longer be immature like children. We won’t be tossed and blown about by every wind of new teaching. We will not be influenced when people try to trick us with lies so clever they sound like the truth. Instead, we will speak the truth in love, growing in every way more and more like Christ, who is the head of this body, the church.

We should speak the truth in love…”you can”…”you shall”…”I’m with you”…”But! We will”…
Maturity comes with the acceptance of responsibility. I remember the birth of my first child. I was a lost kitten. I had no idea what I wanted but I knew for sure that I DIDN’T want to be having a baby, but I was married and it was the “right thing to do”. (Not that I had done the right thing too often preceding this) I was unwilling to accept any responsibility nor did I have any intention of trying to mature. So, I went wild and eventually divorced and gave up custody of my child, selfishly. It was a good decision for the wrong reasons.
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Godly order – Path to Maturity

Before you can talk to your children about God, you must first talk to God about your children.
– Pray over your children, literally OVER your children. Lay your hands on
them.
– Command angels to camp around them.
– Pray over the school – no bombs,no knives, no guns
– Pray for their success
– Pray that they learn something today
My husband and I do this every night, without fail, on our knees. We also pray together, just me and him, before we lay down for bed, on our knees. This brings us all together including the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The entire family. Our children have really responded well to this.

Don’t carry out confrontations in front of your children.
Matthew 12:25 Jesus knew their thoughts and replied, “Any kingdom divided
by civil war is doomed. A town or family splintered by
feuding will fall apart.”

My husband has ALWAYS been a firm believer in this, even before we were saved. He was right, but his reasons were because he wanted us to hide the issues from them. Our children need to see us as ONE, a union, not divided. Work out the kinks and compromise, but not in front of the kids.

Ephesians 6:1-3 Children obey your parents because you belong to the Lord, for this is the right thing to do. “Honor your father and mother.” This is the first commandment with a promise. If you honor your father and mother “things will go well for you, and you will have a long life here on earth.”

Proverbs 13:24 Those who spare the rod of discipline hate their children. Those who love their children care enough to discipline them.