Facing 40

I am going to 40 on Monday. 

Leading up to this birthday I feel like I have repeated, “Do not lose your mind this time” more than I have needed. I strived to walk into my forties mentally and physically healthy - um yeah, strived is a much stronger word than what I have actually felt or done. 

This year, my birthday will mark an anniversary of sorts.  You see ten years ago the facade of my marriage began to chip away.  Ten years ago I stood at the edge of what an outsider would see as a pure nervous breakdown.  How could I be so insane to walk away from my life, to leave my husband, to allow all my friendships to crumble around me?  How could I break apart my daughter’s stable life? 

Ten years ago I would say I was breaking free - breaking out of the hell that was my daily life. My cries for help fell on deaf ears. I was surrounded by people who were blinded by the storybook perfectness of my life. There was no reason besides, “She’s lost her ever-loving mind” to describe why I would leave my little red brick corner house. Ten years ago I masked my pain with perfection.  Not the perfection I struggle with today, but the perfection that said, “You need to just wipe out every moment of your life before this marriage be accepted today.” 

I hear Dr. Phil ask, “Well, how did that work for you?”

It led me to weekly visits with a gastroenterologist. It also led to medical intervention for my depression. It wasn’t all my ex-husband, ten years ago I slowly started to lose Meme, my strong faith guider, my safe place to Alzheimer's.  We had moved her from her apartment to a nursing home.  I had sat with her multiple times during the previous year as she recovered from accidental overdoses.  My parents were selling they home close to me and moving back to South Texas.  I was dealing with a pretty heavy load of things that could make someone a bit blue. 

And at the same time, I was attempting to erase 17 years of hurt and shame with a trip to the gym, with a perfectly made bed, with a kitchen floor you could eat off of and with an envy-worthy family picture on my yearly Christmas card. 

I cannot describe the fall season prior to my divorce in early 2008 as “the beginning of the end”. No, looking back it was the band closest to the eye of the storm. It was volatile, it was harsh, there was damage taking place, but you stood at the shoreline thinking, “This is not going to end, this storm is about to get so much worse.” 

I am thankful that I chose to journal - though very sporadic - ten years ago. 

November 5, 2007

It is the eve of my 30th birthday. The BIG 30. Tonight in bible study we discussed disappointment. You can be disappointed in God, in others and in yourself. I feel like I have spent the last 29 years disappointing others. I have disappointed my family, my friends, but mostly myself. I struggle with internal battles the most. I struggle with self-destruction by doing things that I know I shouldn’t be doing but doing them out of rebellion. I am at an end.  Lord, I hate myself. How have I gotten to this point where I don’t know myself at all?  

I need help. 

That is shame speaking, that is shame screaming. 

From that point I started to grasp at pieces of myself I could still recognize one being creating, sewing, which led me into a community of other creative people. Their world was so colorful compared to vanilla of the safeness I had put my life into. Their ability to be comfortable in their own skin, in their talents was so attractive - so what I wanted - such an escape.  And when I saw that uniqueness was a threat to my husband it became the perfect tool to fight back against the control I was feeling from him. 

This past year as we went through pictures for Shelby’s birthday party, this one popped up. I said, “that’s the last family picture.” She stopped and examined it closely. Luckily, she does not remember that Christmas.  She doesn’t remember the words that were exchanged. Two weeks later I was moving her out of her home and into an apartment. 

To have what I feel is a successful marriage you have to deal with your “stuff”. You cannot shove the suitcase of hurt and shame into a closet under the stairs. Well, you can, but it won’t stay there forever. All that closed up shame will manifest itself into other things and wind up exploding. 

I did not know the truth of grace ten years ago. I did not know how to receive the love given to me through Jesus. I appeared so together but was so lost. Lost in the perfection I created for the world to see. 

Lord, help me to walk into my forties fully embracing the hot mess that I am today, knowing that I am far from perfect, but knowing that in your eyes grace as made me perfect to you. 

I want my 40th not be an anniversary of the actions I took 10 years ago, but a celebration of the last 40 years of my life. 

The 20-year-old me is in complete shock that we have made it this far and thoroughly impressed by the beauty on the other side of the storm. The 40-year-old me is thinking, just wait till you see the 60-year-old me - she is going to knock your socks off. 

I feel, after all of my rambling, that I just want to make one thing perfectly clear 

Hold true to this fact, my friends, Grace Changes Everything. 

On it, my Savior, both bruised and crushed

Showed that God is love and God is just

At the cross, You beckon me

You draw me gently to my knees

And I am lost for words, so lost in love

I'm sweetly broken, wholly surrendered

This year on the eve of my birthday, 10 years after screaming I hate myself, I am will be on the radio share what life is like after healing. 

KKHT 100.7 FM "THE WORD"

NOVEMBER 5, 2017 at 7 pm

 

To stream broadcasts from outside the Houston area

go to KKHT.com and click the "listen live" button. 

Click here for more information

My Story: Scarlet Letter: The Part I had Left Out

We can only respond compassionately to someone telling her story if we have embraced our own story - shame and all. 

~Dr. Brené Brown

Why is it when I am on a deadline to read a chapter of a book by 4 pm today I get an overwhelming nudge to write? The statement above struck a nerve therefor, my friend, we need to have a chat. 

I can most definitely confirm that we live in a society, a culture, where sin is weighted. Even in our churches we struggle to see sin the same as God with the slate that was washed clean by Jesus’ resurrection. We ultimately place some sins so much higher on our scale of not so bad to horribly bad.  I am not condoning our behavior - I am acknowledging that it’s there while also telling you that it is for that reason that I have not share this part of my story. I hesitate out of fear. I hesitate out shame. And it is also because of those reasons that I share today. I am on a journey to pull the lingering weeds of shame out of my story, to acknowledge I have them, to express the reason why and to connect to the fact that I am not the person I was before. There are parts of this story I am ashamed of and there are parts of this story where I fear judgement. There are also parts where you could call me a hypocrite and you would be somewhat correct. 

In the early fall of 2010, as I walked through Macy’s with my fiancé selecting the perfect shade of fiesta pottery to place on our wedding registry, when my phone rang. Fear ran through my body as I saw a name I had not seen in close to a year appear on the screen of my phone. I quickly sent the caller to voicemail. 

In typical fashion, I then received a text. I cannot remember what his original text said, but I do remember how our conversation continued. 

“I am seriously in the middle of registering for my wedding.” 

“I’ve lost you then,” he responded. 

“It’s over. Goodbye,” I sent back.

And that was the end of a 14 year relationship. I was shocked at how easy it was - how perfectly content I was with the finality of our tumultuous times as the closest friends and the absolute worst people for each other. I was empowered by the ability to end the destructive pattern he and I lived in for years. 

I remember reading Paula Dean’s autobiography, ten years ago and thinking, “that’s a brave women who can admit being in a relationship with a married man.” I cannot imagine the judgement she must have received or felt she might, but wrote those words anyway. I don’t think you set out saying, “I am going to break up a family today” or “today, I am going to hurt people”, but sin in our lives lead us to places we never would imagine we would go. 

After 14 years and countless relationships ended as we tried over and over to be together…

After 14 years and two failed marriages (for me) - one broken marriage for him…

After 14 years and one beautiful daughter we made together…

I said my final good-byes to Danny. 

Now in a matter of all honesty that was not the last time I spoke with Danny. About five years ago, when I found out that one of our close friends (his best friend) from high school was tragically killed we spoke briefly on Facebook. I will tell you that I did decline his friend request after that conversation because we were both good - we were both healthy again - we had both healed from the mess we had made and there was no reason to test the boundaries in the attempts to be friends - even in cyberworld. 

Our friendship wasn’t always fuel for a great episode of Jerry Springer, when we met at the age of eighteen and nineteen we were the greatest of friends with an underlying attraction for each other. If you know my story, you know that I spent the first half of my life (or longer) on a quest to feel loved - to feel accepted. Danny provided that safeness to be myself, but in that safeness there was disfunction. I am not sure I can say honestly that we tried to remain plutonic friends and fight the attraction to each other. Quickly our relationship wrecked havoc on his life with his girlfriend. That is when the destruction ball started rolling. 

Danny and I would spend the next five years showing up when life was too hard to handle apart. I wouldn’t be happy with a guy I was dating so I would find him. When he wasn’t happy or when he felt alone he would find me. While our relationship caused drama to storm around us we continued our pattern of life. Never once was there an exclusive, committed relationship between us - there were no strings - we were safe for each other while so harmful to any other relationship we attempted to have. 

The coziness of our safe, but dysfunctional, life ended in January of 2001 when we learned that our disfunction also leads to pregnancy. I remember knowing that Danny and I would never get married. We would never be a perfect little family, but I had at that time imagined that Danny would be a part of Shelby’s life. 

This is where things get complicated - this where things get ugly - this where there were words said by people around us that I will not repeat, though they sometimes still haunt me. In what I would later find was his attempt to shield my heart, Danny held onto a secret that would change the course of our relationship. Towards the end of my first trimester of pregnancy I received a phone call from a woman I knew had been in a relationship with Danny previously. She stated pretty mater of factly that she knew I was pregnant, but she wanted me to know that she was also pregnant (three months further along than I was). Then she said, “I have known about you this entire time.” Now, I mean, I should be more shocked about the first statement, but really I knew what I was dealing with and that no strings that attached him to me. Her second statement left me shocked. I always felt that we (Danny and I) had a relationship where we were very open with our feelings and our thoughts. Even though we held secrets from others we didn’t really have anything that we kept from one another. 

Oh, I don’t know if this makes sense to you, but if you struggle with trust, as I do, then you will understand the blow that statement caused. Should I have felt privileged that he attempted to not lose our relationship by leaving out some pretty vital facts? Most definitely not, but my very young mind did not think I as I do today. This is where I wish I could go back and speak to the 23 year old me. I wish I had an opportunity to pass along a few words of wisdom - to spoil the ending for this roller coster ride, but I can’t. 

To put it politely, Danny was “away” when both of his children (her’s and mine) were born. He actually was “away” when the phone call above was made and he stayed “away” until after Shelby was born. All of this time “away” led to many letters and many unsolicited phone calls from the other woman in his life. It almost became a competition as to who knew him better, who was closer to him and who did he speak to the most. While “away”, Danny kept up is normal method of operation and left me in the dark about many things including a marriage by proxy ceremony that took place a few months into this situation. 

The movie that played out in my head of me having a baby and Danny being a part of her life, but not there full-time (but it was still all rainbows and butterflies), came to crashing halt in that moment. No where in my daydreaming was there another woman, turned wife (which made me the “other woman”) and another child.  This was not what I had planned, at all. Me, always the writer, quickly composed what was probably three pages of anger sealed with with a “see-ya” and threw it in the mail the next day. The only other correspondence I had with him was a picture of our daughter that I sent to him after her birth. 

Oh how I wish the story of us ended here. 

Danny contacted me, again, when Shelby was about 9-months old. It started as, “I want to see my daughter,” which I agreed to and he saw Shelby on a regular basis. I held strongly to the fact that he was now married and I in no way was going to play “the other woman”. This was a battle because our chemistry and our indescribable connection (mentally) was still there. When I found out that his wife was expecting her second child, a secret he tried to keep for three months, I felt it was best for him to focus on what was going on his life and I pulled away with Shelby. 

At that time Shelby had just turned one and I had began dating the man who would eventually become my ex-husband. As you may remember from the story of my ex-husband, I was I run away bride. 

exert from that post:

Two weeks before we were scheduled to fly to vegas things started closing in on me. During idle time at work I looked up an old flame and started an email conversation. You know what they say idle hands are the devil’s playground. With my self esteem in the gutter I let this person refill my love tank with complements and reminders that I was a pretty awesome person. In something I hate to type, I let the relationship move from emails to meeting, to cheating a week before marriage. I was filling a void and I was out to hurt my ex-husband even though he knew nothing about any of it. 

I am sure you can put two and two together and realize that “old flame” was most positively Danny. And that, my friend, is when I earned my scarlet letter and cause a major crack in someone else’s family. A fact that causes me a heavy weight of shame. 

As you remember it end quickly because I was on an airplane later that week headed to Vegas and got married. In my mind I thought Danny and I would run into each other again on a softball field while our children played. I can’t tell you how his marriage was during the time I was married, I can only assume that my actions caused some major distrust and turmoil. I know that Danny was a source of major discourse in my marriage. 

My divorce, three years later, left an open door that Danny walked in and out of again though we managed to stay apart for longer stretches of time there was still destruction in our actions. I am hesitant to say that Matt took all of my need for what I thought was safety in Danny away, but it is almost certainly true that God did a big number to my heart in giving me what was really love with Matt. Knowing that love and feeling that love completely overshadowed anything I had felt previously. 

As I re-read the words I have written, today, I hear the shame in my voice and I feel the struggle to justify my actions, but really I have no case - I have no excuse - I have no real explanation for why I continued this pattern with him. Shame has stopped me from writing this for years, though, those close to me know this story. It’s difficult to look back at the time when I was the “other woman”, “the mistress”, “the adulterer”, “the home wrecker” and not have a reason for my actions a compelling plea for you to not judge me. Life is messy - sin makes it messier. 

As I  conclude this mess I realize you may have some questions:

What will writing this do to Shelby?

Not much. We had this full conversation a few years ago and I did get her blessing to publicly post this story. This is where I protect her privacy, though, and ask that you understand this is as much her private life as it is mine. 

What will this do to his family?

I can’t say. Nothing that I have written should be a shock to anyone, they lived through it as well. At the same time, though, I wish no ill will towards him and his family (I am almost positive that he still married and I give him major props for that). It makes me very happy to know that he is good, that he is very involved in his church and that is he gainfully employed. 

Our story is a mess and I am just happy that we’ve both have embraced grace enough to move beyond the destruction. 

And, of course, getting through this calls for a Crowder tune. 

I've done things I wish I hadn't done

I've seen things I wish I hadn't seen

Just the thought of Your amazing grace

And I cry ”Jesus, forgive me!”

If you have not read all of My Story, click here.

The Right Words, At the Right Time

The title of this post could've been “This is why David Crowder is amazing” or “Why I Love Music and Can’t Live without it.”

Yesterday I got into my car after two hours in therapy (yep, keep reading) and this song was playing. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I needed these words at this exact time. 

I am found, I am Yours

I am loved, I'm made pure

I have life, I can breathe

I am healed, I am free

Of course I thought, “Ah David Crowder always putting words to what I need”, but that is followed with “ah, God, always speaking through talented people to send me the words I need.”

You guys this is hard - I am not sure if it is hard to type or hard to admit, but I am not fully healed. And really, if I let myself seriously think about it, I won’t be fully healed on this side of heaven. As long as I walk this earth I will have things that I classify (because I am horribly brutal on myself) as a defect. I am like a dance mom on the side of the stage fiercely showing the moves and getting angry when my child (me also) won’t catch on. In my mind I know exactly how I am supposed to be - how healed I need to be - how I need to act - how I need to speak - and when I miss a step I am ugly to myself - completely unkind. 

I am sitting here 8 months shy of turning 40 wondering how in world I became such a perfectionist. I laugh as I glance across my bedroom - I wish the perfectionism would spill into my house keeping. 

How am I supposed to spread the goodness of forgiveness when I live daily disliking myself?

That is a tough pill to swallow (and it may hurt people I love), but I struggle so much to be nice to me, to speak kind words to myself, to see myself as others see me. And in the fear of my unkindness spreading to those I hold dear I pull myself into my shell and I cut people off. 

This is why I sit two hours on a sofa trying uses everything in my body to get to source of this - to figure out where these feeling came from and to embrace truth over the lies I have lived for years. 

A month ago when I went in with Matt for a couple’s check-up I was heart broken to hear our therapist say, “I think I am still hearing shame that isn’t dealt with.” Seriously, you work so stinking hard to work on things, to “fix” things, to get “right” and then you realize - it’s not over yet. It’s exhausting. And to be honest - nothing she said to me was a shock because in August of last year the devil attacked and instead of standing up to him I welcomed him in and he has wreck havoc on my life. 

Please don’t be discouraged by my words - there is hope in this story, this is just a hurdle that I have to walk through and even though I will always live with these defects and quirks that will need to be tended to from time to time I have come so freaking far. I seriously think that is one thing that I can fully be proud of and embrace. I have conquered a lot of junk. 

So, this song reminds me that 

I am found, I am His

I am loved, I'm made pure

I have life, I can breathe

I am healed, I am free

And it gives me that reminder I need that 

God is strong, God is sure

God is life, God endures

God is good, always true

God is light breaking through

He is more than enough, He is love. 

Dread

/dred/

verb: anticipate with great apprehension or fear

         “Dana was dreading the process of healing”

noun: great fear or apprehension

          “the thought of returning to the farm house filled her with dread”

Synonym: FEAR, ANXIETY

It’s the only word I can think of lately. 

The description is really unfair. It’s unfair to the retreat, unfair to the leaders, unfair to the process. 

But it’s the only word that comes to mind as I am two days away from my five-day retreat. 

Dread I think is the product of fear, the outcome of anxiety. Along with dread there is just stress. 

I have too much to do. 

There is so much on my plate right now. 

I have to leave meticulous notes for my family.  how to pack the girls’ lunch…how to take them to school…how to pack their backpacks…

I have to lay out dresses and shoes for church. I have to find their 4th of July attire. I have to over prepare so that they don’t miss me. 

Urgh, the devil knows where to pull me. He knows just where to hit, how to get me all worked up. It pisses me off (sorry). It takes me writing this out to see how ridiculous it all sounds. I will, still do parts of it because I love my husband and even though he knows the difference between a night gown and a church dress, I still want to help. 

I have to pack myself too. Am I going for the jeans & t-shirt attire? Probably. I know I will take the t-shirts I love, jeans and converse, so please tell me why I am stressing about packing? 

I find peace in the crap that I have kept hoarded away in the dark parts of my soul. 

That’s it. 

I have opened boxes and dumped out so much crap , so much pain, so much ugly here, publicly, honestly. There are no new “stories” that will come out during this healing retreat (at least I don’t think there will be). 

But what will come out is or shall I say the fear of what I might have to unpack is the “hows?” and the “whys?”. I get to unpack it all, sort through it and decide what to let go of. I am quiet sure I am meant to get rid of all of it - every hurt, every bit of shame, every moment of my life that sends chills down my spine. The moments that replay and cause tears to stream down my face. The events mainly that this girl lived through. 

The things she had done to her by others, the way she was treated , the situations that she found herself in. 

You never know - I might actually get past this and refer to that young girl as me. Do you notice how I do that? I morn for that girl, for what she saw, heard and felt at such a young age. For the life she lived - multiple lifetimes worth of life in a handful of years. 

This week it’s even harder for me because my counterpart during that time of my life, my best friend during the muck and yuck, is still there. She still lives in that life that I was blessed to leave behind. I fear that she still experiences the hurt, the hurt is still a daily occurrence for her. 

I seriously mourn for her, for the girl (actually woman) who has not felt the other side of the crap we lived in when we were 17. I fear that the experiences that cause my heart to drop are still part of her daily life. It’s sad - I hurt for her. But I can’t reach her - I’ve tried - she’s not ready. 

Why this week? Why did she have to be in such a close proximity to me this week? And also facing trouble while she was so close. Why wasn’t my first instinct to reach out, to attempt to help? I prayed for her. I prayed she would see where her life as lead her, to take inventory of her life as she approaches forty and I prayed for her to turn around. It’s not too late for her. 

It’s not to late for the girl in the picture about either. Just because I unpack it, doesn’t mean that I have to wear that life again. It doesn’t mean that I will go back there. That girl is indeed me, but I am not that girl anymore. The life that girl lived needs be handed off, the shame needs to given away. 

Completely and Totally honest…this just came up on my pandora. 

God I give You all I can today

These scattered ashes that are hid away

I lay them all at Your feet

From the corners of my deepest shame

The empty places where I've worn Your name

Show me the love I say I believe

O Help me to lay it down

Oh, Lord I'll lay it down

O let this be where I die

My Lord with thee crucified

Be lifted high as my kingdom fall

Once and for all, once and for all

There is victory in my saviors loss

and In the crimson flowing from the cross

Pour over me, pour over me

O let this be where I die

My Lord with thee crucified

Be lifted high as my kingdom fall

Once and for all, once and for all

O Lord I lay it down

O Lord I lay it down

Help me to lay it down

O Lord I lay it down

O let this be where I die

My Lord with thee crucified

Be lifted high as my kingdom fall

Once and for all

Help me to lay it down, Lord. Help me give this all to you and not look back. This is it, this is the final pieces, this where I lay it down - once and for all. 

Thankfulness - The Other Side of Post Abortive Healing

Yesterday morning I followed seven women and one man down the stone path to a pond, the same pond where my stones of unworthiness and un-forgiveness lay. As I saw them laugh together, hug each other and share tears of pain I could only think one thing, “Thank you Lord”. 

My Loving and Amazing Father, 

I don’t feel the words”thank you” even match the feelings for gratitude I have for the grace I’ve been given. And as if grace were not enough you’ve given the opportunity to take my stuff, my yuck, (with your amazing love added) and turn it into a story I get to share with others. You’ve given me the gift of words that flow so easily (at times) to share what you’ve done in my life. I’ve also received the ability to speak in front of crowds with pure transparency and oh man, I thank you for that. 

I am so thankful for the opportunity to be on the other side of post abortive healing, that this weekend I was given the ability to serve women just like me. And that brings me to a big prayer of thankfulness that you have given me the ability to cook and to cook well, “or so I’ve heard.” I got to use that talent to keep the comfort foods flowing this weekend as these seven women and one man started the journey to healing. The same journey I took less than three months before. Less than three, months - amazing. I have fit so much into the past three months, I have prayed my heart out and trusted your path for me. 

Now I ask you, father, what are we doing next? This servant is ready! 

Rest? (that is seriously what I just heard as I typed that question) 

I know you cannot mean rest from sharing this story, but maybe rest as in it’s time for some serious Sabbath. It’s time for some serious prayer about boundaries. It’s time to looks at where my energy is being applied and reconfirm that it is where You want my attention. It’s time to fix some cracks that crazy full living has put into my marriage, my relationship with my little people and my relationship with you. 

Lord, I just ask for your guidance, I ask that you shine bright lights on my paths. A neon sign with an arrow, maybe? Sorry, Lord, I am just tired and my eyes are swollen from exhausted crying that took place last night. 

The tears are filing my eyes again and I am filled with overwhelming thankfulness that I was there. That I shared embraces with people I barely got a chance to know, but know all so well. Eight completely brave parents who face the mortality of their children and at last, delivered them to you, for you to care for and for you to love. In doing so, they finally, finally, accepted your forgiveness, your grace. You strengthened marriages this weekend, You empowered women, You made some amazing leaders in the great commission. I know these are things you do everyday, all day, but for the past three days I got to see it with my own eyes, again. 

Thank you. 

With a heart overflowing with gratitude and love, 

Your Servant on this AWESOME Journey

Not sure there is much more to say than that this morning. I am beyond exhausted, the most tired I’ve been in awhile, but as my physical body is dragging, my spirt is jumping for joy! I could go on, but really all it would be is a list of words like: Awesome, Amazing, Awesome, Awesome, Awesome…

Renewed Strength: Live Radio Interview Details

There is an Ellie Holcomb songs that goes, 

Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength

They will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint

And like a flight upon an eagle’s wings, He will give the weary strength

So lift your eyes up to the sky

To the one who hears you when you cry

It played this evening as I was driving alone. I found myself grasping onto the words, embracing what feels like are just hopes, praying for strength, praying to not grow weary, praying to not be faint. 

You see twenty-four hours from now my voice will play out through the radio waves in Houston and in Austin. My story will be shared with a listening audience of, wait for it, 20,000. 

20,000 people, seriously. 

And that is just the first night. My interview will re-play in Georgia and in Kansas and in Wisconsin. 

To be completely transparent with you, the Lord and I have been battling this for a good week now. While I have been knocking myself down  (telling myself that I am not capable, that I am going to stumble, I am going to choke - I am going to say the wrong things), God has been there urging me along. 

I can’t do this. 

Yes, you can - I am here and I will be there. Open your mouth and I will give you the words. 

But, more that 20,000 people? I am not qualified for that. 

I am not asking you convert a single soul, that’s my job. I am asking you to share the story I wrote for your life with them. 

It almost feels like I am typing a skit guy’s video. (love them)

2 Timothy 3:17 has played in my head over and over again this week - 

so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.

Why do I fight it? 

I will tell you that my purpose (I know for a fact - 110%) is to reach the women like me, to give hope to those who are sitting in a life that is drowning them in shame, grief, self-hate. God saved me from myself, over and over again. God saved me for this. 

But dang it, that fact doesn’t make this any less nerve wracking. 

Here in print, I am not as awkward (thanks to that delete key) than am live in person. I get nervous, I resort to inappropriate humor and pronounce things wrong. Oh man, I apologize for things that have nothing to do with me. I’ve been know to say, “I am sorry” for the sun that is shining. 

And can I just say that the world winsome has put such fear into me? I am shacking my head, it’s silly, I know. Of all the words in our language, winsome is one I have never used and seriously I never in a million years thought that would be something that could describe me. And that, ladies and gentle, is me beating myself down. This is the moment where just about all of my girlfriends want to shake me. 

When will I ever start believing that I am capable, that I can help so many, that my story is amazing? Umm, I am not sure, because even though I don’t feel an ounce capable, even though I feel just as Moses did:

Moses said to the LORD, "Pardon your servant, Lord. I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue."

I am so grateful for my story, what I have come out of, and I am thankful that just as he said to Moses

"Now then go, and I, even I, will be with your mouth, and teach you what you are to say."…

He says to me. 

Oh, man, God is amazing - His timing is even humorous. I’ve had headphone in while writing this and as I have written these are the songs that have played. 

At the Cross (Love Ran Red) by Chris Tomlin: There’s a place where sin and shame are powerless, where my heart has peace with God. 

Forever Reign by One Sonic Society: You are peace, you are peace when my fear is crippling

None But Jesus by Hillsong United: When You call I won’t refuse

Then, Everlasting God by Chris Tomlin

And just incase, Him speaking to me through music wasn’t enough, I get a text from Pastor Schultz (who will be interviewing me tomorrow) that says, “Blessing on your thoughts. May your evening be one of peace” right in the middle of all those songs. it’s as if  God is saying, “take a deep breath, I’ve got this.”

These are the events that leave me sitting in front of my computer, hand over mouth, just ugly crying all over my keyboard. These are the moments when I am amazed, taken back and overwhelmed by the amazing love that I never for a single minute deserved, but received through grace. 

So, 800 words later I am at peace. Even after hearing that I will be video taped and my video will also be shared, I am at peace (though rummaging through my closet in my mind at this very moment - what will I wear?!?!)

Here are the details about tomorrow (Sunday, April 10th): 

If you are in the Houston area I will be on KKHT The Word, 100.7FM Houston from 7:00-8:00pm (central time). 

The broadcast will also play live in Austin on KTXW (AM 1120). 

Or you can listen, through life stream here: http://www.kkht.com/ (click “listen live” in the upper right hand corner). 

My interview will replay on these stations on these days, times:

WFAM (AM 1050) Augusta, GA - Saturday, April 16th at 6pm

KCNW (AM 1380) Kansas City, KS - Saturday, April 16th at Noon

WJYI (AM 1340) Milwaukee, WI - Sunday, April 17th 6:30pm

KLNG (AM 1560) Omaha, NE/Council Bluffs, IA - Saturday, April 16th, 10am

WITK (AM 1550) Wilkes-Barre/Scranton, PA - Wednesday, April 13th at 6pm

Also, next week you can find my interview on Evangelical Life Ministries’ website: http://www.elmhouston.org/houston_radio_ministry_programs.htm

Thank you all so much for your continued support and prayers. 

I don't feel I can end this without share the amazing blurb (I know there is a more educated word for this, but it's lost in my mind) that an truly amazing, truly winsome, friend wrote for me: 

Dana Bahn lives a modern-day resurrection story with many Biblical parallels. Her choices, which tore at the fabric of morality, left her condemned, alone and broken. Yet, she has a welcoming, forgiving, and healing God. It has not been easy, but through the powerful work of Jesus, she has been restored with confidence, guided to a loving husband, gifted with three beautiful daughters, learned the incredible forgiveness of God and given a platform to share her renewed life with many. Join Dana with host David Schultz to hear of her redemptive story.

Cardbord Testimony: I Was Not Alone

After a long day of work I hope to find words to best describe my feelings about this video. 

I sat in the pew Sunday morning with Matt and Shelby on each side of me. As the video started playing on the gigantic screens in front of me I grab their hands. Shelby gave me a reassuring, “it will be okay, mom” as I squeezed her hand. 

In reality this video had already played in four services that morning, over 1,000 people in attendance on Sunday morning had already seen it and many of those people I exchanged pleasantries with during Easter morning brunch, but this time it would play with me sitting right there. The people around me would be able to say, “oh that’s her.” 

In reality they could say that about all of us. We pretty much all were in the same service that morning, I shared my fears, my butterflies, and my tears with my dear friends (old and new) who sat scattered throughout the 11 am service. I wasn’t alone. I knew I had a friend three sections over crying just as I was, when her statement flashed on the screen. I knew I had another friend who also was crying and had the unique pleasure of returning to the stage to sing after the video - she did and she did amazing. And another who shared a secret she kept out of the public for many years. 

And I think that is the key: I was not alone. 

I shared this experience with 12 amazing people, but I also share it with 2,000 (and that number will continue to grow). In the growing, we will each realize, accept and experience the overwhelming peace in the truth that we are each not alone. Though, our stories are not identical, we each had struggles that God has lead us through and now we sit on the other side. 

And as a roar of claps and cheers radiated from the audience Easter morning, my hope is that each one of my dear friends felt just how amazing grace is, how it can bring tears to your eyes (as it is doing to mine now), but still make you exude with happiness. 

This was special, this was good. Oh I am so happy right now and I am also happy that I got to watch the video again. I remember leaving church that day thinking, “wait, I was crying so much, I missed parts of it.” 

Cardboard Testimony from Seth Gehrke on Vimeo.

My Story: One Word, So Much Shame

As I sit down to write this morning I am frightened and scared. In moments like these I clearly hear God’s voice saying, “yeah, ummm, we are not done yet.” (not sure why God’s voice sounds like Mr. Lumbergh leaning on the edge of my cubicle this morning) 

On Sunday I did my part in a cardboard confessional (google it). I prayed Sunday morning as I was fixing my hair just right, for the words that I would write out in sharpie on top of a piece of cardboard. I prayed for just the right words, the words that would reach someone who needed to see there is hope. I kept getting the response of “all of it”. I had complete confirmation that I was not allowed to just write, “broken”, that someone sitting a pew hurting needed to see more. Can I tell you that I have never been so nervous? Well, I probably have, but really I was way too anxious about this event. 

And now, afterwards, I am even more anxious. This is where I am to remember that He has got this, right? Good ‘ole Jeremiah 29:11. 

I am thankful, that a sweet girl (who I feel is a part of my family) was the one to walk me through the process of filming my confessional. She was patient in my freakout, my pacing, my “okay, okay let’s do this”. I was given a max of six words - six words to reach that person who needed to see that there is a light on the other side. Six words? How in the world could I encapsulate my story with meaning into six words? You know me, I average about a 1,000 words a post. Very seldomly I am a found to be at a loss for words, especially when it comes to my life. 

I started throwing out things (that this girl knew about) and she directed me with things like “someone has that point covered” (not her exact words, but the comfort I took from her words). I wanted to make sure that my “go-to” subjects had shared by someone because again, there will be someone sitting with us on Sunday morning that needs to see the front and back side of our cardboard pieces. 

To be completely transparent with you, my thought in that moment was, “Oh crap, really, God? This is what you want me to write?” And the confirmation was back, again. On my third line I was to write a word that very few have heard from me - a word that still brings shame, a word that I have begun to work through, but am not healed from. A word that in our world, brings disgrace. “Well, fine, but you have to help me spell it correctly.” Wouldn’t that be horrible, hundreds of people seeing my confessional and realizing, “yikes, she spelled that wrong.” 

I am stalling because I have trouble typing the word, hell, I have trouble writing the word. “I can’t believe I am writing this, it’s so embarrassing, but it’s my story” is what I said as the sharpie squeaked across the surface of the cardboard. 

Prostitute

And this is where the devil always attempts to grab me. I am automatically overrun with shame and then I hear, “it was just once, please, there are women who are lost in the sex industry and you are making a big deal about the one time you took paper money for sex?” 

Yes, because the scars from that day hurt, still. 

During the Spring of 1995, you will remember I was deep into some major drug addictions and I guess you could say I was already involved in the barter system of using sex for drugs. One afternoon the guy I was seeing (station wagon guy) had a brilliant idea to help me and his sister get some money. He knew that the main drug distributor had paid girls for sex in the past and what a great opportunity for us to make a quick $200. It still amazes me the lengths I would go to when I was lost and so wanted to be loved. I will spare you the details that are etched into my mind, that haunt me at crazy unsuspecting times. I will remind you though that I was seventeen and this guy, well let’s say today he is older than my father. It was sickening and is worse now look back on it as an adult. 

For those of you who remember the pure anger I shared after sitting through a presentation by Cat French from Elijah Rising this is where that angers stems from. Anger is a sign that I am not healed. The fact that I have no fear of the men who pimp-out and hold in captivity young women like I was 21 years ago, the fact I say things like, “that wouldn’t be a safe ministry for me to be a part of because I would probably end up in jail” shows that there is still healing to be done. Because like M’Lynn in Steele Magnolias, I am screaming “I just want to hit someone till they feel as bad as I do”. That’s not good, people, that’s not good. 

I am not sure if my feelings would be as intense if the aftermath of the event played out differently, but I left his high end beach front home thinking that no one would know what happened, that I would have a new cute outfit that I purchased from a store I could have never afforded normally and the world would never know. But that was not the case. First, I did not receive the money, it was passed off to the person who played the pimp in this horrible story. Yep, station wagon guy. And the day after, news of my trist, every horrid little detail was spread around our small town. I was shamed by people I thought I loved and cared for - it was horrible and  it marked the beginning of the end. I would say less than a month later, station wagon guy laid out lines of cocaine and said, “do it or get out?”  Thank you, Lord. Thank you so much for giving me the strength to walk out that day. 

As I sit here still shaken by this event in my life, I keep seeing Romans 5:8…But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners. 

I want to leave you with this song, as I did last April when I shared about this time in my life. (You can read it here: My Story: The Early Years). 

You cry yourself to sleep

Cause the hurt is real and the pain cuts deep

All hope seems lost with heartache your closest friend

And everyone else long gone

You've had to face the music on your own

But there is a sweeter song that calls you home, saying

You're not alone for I am here

Let me wipe away your every tear

My love, I've never left your side

I have seen you through the darkest night

And I'm the One who's loved you all your life

All your life

If my story matches pieces of yours, please know that you are not alone. Not only are we sisters in this story, but my dear we are Sisters in Christ. And HIS love will never leave you! I want you to know above everything else, that HE loves you - He ALWAYS HAS, even through what the world sees as the most unloveable sins, He loves us. And so do I. 

To learn more about Elijah Rising, please visit their website: http://www.elijahrising.org/ 

If you need healing from past sexual abuse, here a great resource for you: http://www.grieftograce.org/ 

My Story: The Peaceful Part of My Story - Post Abortive Healing

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, 

When sorrows like sea billows roll, 

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, 

It is well, it is well, with my soul

This hymn was sung in the opening of our memorial service on Saturday. Even though, I am not one to always find joy in the sounds of an old hymn, this one rang so true for me as I sat in the back room of an old farm house preparing to speak a final good-bye to my children. 

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!

My sin, not in part, but the whole, 

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, 

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! 

It is well, with my soul…

And it was, so perfectly well that afternoon. I wrote that morning, “I can’t even put into words the feelings - like brightness, joy, just ahhhh…such a weight lifted, such a difference from how I woke up Thursday morning.” 

New Heart of Texas Ministries, who leads, the Rachel’s Vineyards in my area uses Ezekiel 36:26 as their verse, it reads, “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”

And that is just what the Lord did last weekend. Even though I have been through so much healing this past year, I still lived in a world of captivity because of my choice to the end lives of my two children. It was always the one thing, I could never fully forgive myself for. Friday afternoon, I threw that self-hate, un-forgiveness and the mindset that I am unworthy in a pond. Those thoughts now sit in the muck and mire where they belong, where they will stay forevermore. 

Now don’t fooled, my three days were not full of joy and brightness. I will be completely honest and say I fought this opportunity hard. Thursday afternoon, I said good-bye to my littles and stood in the entry way of my house in tears because I just did not want face this, at all. I am so thankful for all of God’s beautiful creations that lined the highway during my hour long drive to the retreat location and the music of David Crowder, without those I would have surely turned around before I got to highway 6. I pushed through always keeping the idea of leaving in the night in my head if I needed to make a mad dash back to the safeness of my home. 

Those thoughts were slowly crushed as I turned from one back country to another and realized i would never be able to make it out safely in the night (I have night blindness like no body’s business). And then I turned right onto a circle driveway and smiling faces ran out to greet me.

This is where I want to stop for just a moment and tell you last week my plans were to share every detail that I could remember, what exercises we did, what my feelings were during the entire trip, but I don’t think I will. Not that I am holding it back, not able to deal with it or feel it is too personal to share (ha! nothing seems too personal for me lately), but I want you to experience a Rachel’s Vineyard Retreat yourself. Yes, I just changed who I am talking to in this post. If you are not post abortive, then it’s okay to keep reading, I will be sharing more of my feelings, my healing, but if you cary the scars as I have then know that I am talking directly to you. 

First and foremost know, please know, that Rachel’s Vineyard is a safe place. Each one of those volunteers love and care about you before they even see your face. They have been praying over your name, your bed, the materials for the weekend for days before you arrive. They want you to relax and let them care for you. This includes them parking your car and taking your bags which I have to admit had me in a bit of a tizzy. I stepped out of my car, well my mother in-laws car that she let me borrow, and was shocked to hear they were parking it and taking my keys. I just knew this was a trap, that they were cutting off my ability to leave. I sent a quick text to the girl friends and got a “I am headed your way to save you” response. Thankfully, I told her to stay put, but be on call. Oh, the seeds the devil plants in your mind about other people. The volunteers had no ill intentions and my keys were sitting on a table downstairs the entire time, I didn’t just drive up to a cult, I was being cared for, shown love. 

That is another hurdle you will have to get over, you will have to step aside and let these women care for you. The women who volunteered to make us three meals a day quickly said, “do not set foot into the kitchen. Do not try to wash a dish or remove plates from the table once you are done.” They were there to be of service to us and let me tell you the food was amazing. AMAZING…mind you I will be exercising for the next week to make up for it, but I am strong believer in the need for comfort food. 

Let me put another hesitation, or fear, at rest for you. At each retreat there are six to twelve participants and about six volunteers (eight if you count the women in the kitchen). We had six participants in my retreat and of the six of us, only three were post abortive. Now, that realization had me a bit sideways and very apprehensive the first night, but man the Lord showed me what a blessing those women were. You may ask, “Why would they be there if they had not had an abortion themselves?”  Well, one of the three was a mother, whose, now adult, daughter had an abortion as a minor. This choice holds just as much shame for her as for her daughter, I fully understand that and I feel that with my own mother. The other two were volunteers from New Heart. It is required that if you are going to be any part of the New Heart of Texas Ministries (even an accountant) that you go through Rachel’s Vineyard. And I am telling your right now, they participated from the first activity till the last. They let go of lies the devil had tricked them into believing and they shed tears for things in their lives as well as in ours. On Saturday morning I shared that I was a bit sideways about having non-post abortive women in with us on our journey, but then turned to the woman who sat next to me and said, “but I was so wrong, I have been so blessed by you.” Know, again, that there is nothing but love coming from these volunteers. 

One thing that I was told last September was that the women that are put together in our groups are lead by the Holy Spirit to be there and that was so true. I was given the opportunity to be a part of a group in November, but decided not to go. I am glad I didn’t, because the women I walked this journey with were who I needed, who I was meant to be with. One of my fears was sharing my story, which we all did. I was afraid that I would be placed with a group of women who were talked into an abortion during their teenage years and that they would never understand how I could be a repeat offender. The Lord calmed my heart when after telling my story I heard stories that so closely resembled mine. Thank you Lord for that. All of us, participants and volunteers, found so many similarities in our stories that by the time we left on Saturday it felt we were saying goodbye to family members and not strangers. I believe I can speak for all of them when I say, our lives were forever changed by each other. 

Now, I was the first to share my abortion story on Friday morning, but not by my own volunteering. I fought the entire process pretty strongly Thursday evening into Friday morning. My mind was filled with conceit and I thought I was pretty much healed, I just needed a certificate so that I could help other women. I was bitter and not happy, but then during an exercise we had to answer, “Do you believe Jesus can heal your wounds?” I thought “do I?” and quickly answered “well of course.” Then I heard a voice in head, he said, “then let me.” In that moment I realized I had been my own worst enemy, that my “I can fix this myself” attitude was standing in the way of Jesus doing the work he needed to do on me. When I released that, tears flew and the exercises that followed built onto each other until there was just this overwhelming sense of peace - a peace I have not felt, ever. I guess you could say it’s the peace that surpasses all understanding. 

In that moment things changed. The idea of naming my children, of being handed bereavement dolls and of writing a letters to my children no longer held fear. That fear turned into an odd excitement. I wrote Saturday morning that it was “still amazing to me that I don’t sit in dread for this day like I did for so long - I am ready, I’m ready to honor my sons and leave them safely in God’s hands.” 

I don’t know if the strength of my words will come across through your computer scream, but I wish, my prayer is that you are able to experience this peace. I pray that you, too, will find the healing you need through a Rachel’s Vineyard Retreat. I strongly believe that this retreat is a must to aid the process of ridding ourselves from the shame, from the heartache we’ve carried with us. This has to have been one of the best things I have done in my life. 

I am not fully healed, not sure if you ever can be, but I can say on Saturday afternoon I laid two small dolls in a cradle symbolizing that my children now live eternally with Jesus. When I faced my fear of making them mortal and allowing myself to picture who they were, it was surprisingly easier to give them to the Lord. In that moment I let them go, though they will always be a part of my heart, they are now a peaceful part of my story. 

So, my friend, I want you to know that you are not alone in this, there is help and there is a ton of love waiting for you. I would be happy to answer any questions you have and would love to put you in contact with Mary Lee, the woman to whom I will be forever grateful. You can find out more about her and her ministry at www.newheartoftexas.org. 

If you are not post abortive I still have a request for you, please share my story with others. You are welcome to share this post or the website for New Heart. Just please if you are ever sitting across from someone who wears the scars of abortion let them know there is a safe place of healing available to them. I so wish I knew about this years ago. 

I look forward to the day when more and more women like myself are healed enough to share their stories with the world. I believe that we are the front line in helping others not believe the lie that everything will be fine once they leave the clinic. 

I am so thankful that I was given the opportunity to go through this and I am able to sit hear today and say, It is well, it well with my soul. 

Nervous Nesting

Today I find myself nesting. I’m moving things around, picking up toys, doing laundry. I cannot sit still for nervous energy pumps through me as if I had just ingested fifty espresso shots. A plain cream colored envelope sits in front of me with my name written in a cheerful purple on the front. 

The letter came in the mail last week and I thought, “Is it that time already?” 

Tomorrow is the start of my time at the Rachel’s Vineyard Retreat. I have already received a phone call from the leader to “check on my heart”. I told her that the second paragraph of her letter that addressed the anxiety of this weekend was spot on. She assured me that I was not alone and that for the first time I will surround by other woman who share in this part of my story. She even expressed how I was one step ahead of her in this process, the first time she said the words “I had an abortion” publicly was at her first Rachel’s Vineyard Retreat. 

Then she said, “When you leave on Saturday,  you will be changed.”

Yowzers 

Change is not a calming word at least not to me. I cling onto stability and see change as well something that makes me nervous. I hear, “everything makes you nervous” coming from my husband’s mouth. In this case, though, I believe my nervous-nelly-ness is warranted, but then Proverbs 3:5-6 runs through my head. 

I glance at the bottom of my letter from Mary Lee and see a personalized version of Isaiah 43, 

Dana, do not be afraid I am with you. I have called you by name and you are mine. When you pass through deep waters, I will be with you. For I am the Lord your God who saves because you are precious in my eyes and because I love you. 

I am wondering if the memorial service that concludes my time at Rachel’s Vineyard could be seen as “deep waters”. The one part of this entire retreat that has scared the life out of me since Georgette shared it with me in September. 

A Memorial Service is a special time when you, a child’s parent, give dignity to the eternal life and memory of your child in heaven. It is a time of lighting a candle in loving honor of the child that had gone to be with Jesus before you. It is a time of brining a precious bereavement doll to the altar and laying it in a cradle, the symbol of a grave, to tangibly help you “let go” of the child with dignity, entrusting the child’s soul to the Creator. 

 Sheer fear I tell you. I’ve stopped my searching on the internet because I cannot find pictures of any memorial services or what the bereavement dolls will look like, but I did find enough to scare me more. Not that I read anything negative, at all, about someone’s time at the retreat, but the process scares me. The receiving of a bereavement doll (or possibly in my case, dolls) the night before the memorial service so that I can hold a feel that which I had never been able to hold scares me. 

But then this quote from Kara flashes in my mind, “Don’t imagine yourself (or others) in the future, because that is you/them, without the grace He will provide for that time and circumstance.”

 I know that I am not adding a minute to my life worrying about the events that may our may not take place over the next four days and the feelings I may or may not feel. Today I am repeating some prayers for peace, I am holding tight to Jeremiah 29:11 and mopping my floors. I probably need to pack at some point. 

While I don’t know if I will have wifi and I doubt I’ll be posting updates during my time at the retreat I do hope to write about my time once I return. I hope to document my journey and to help others who may be frantically google searching, grasping for reassurance that they can get through their three-day journey as well. 

Please pray for me, especially for peace, for less shame and more healing. Pray that I let the tears flow because, well, this is the time to cry and I need to remember that crying does not mean I've lost my strength. Please pray for our leaders and for the other women who will be with me this weekend. Please pray for Matt while I am gone and for the girls during my absence. 

This will probably be on repeat until I leave tomorrow afternoon

So lay down your burdens, Lay down your shame, All who are broken, Lift up your face

Lay down your hurt, Lay down your heart, Come as you are, Come as you are, Fall in his arms, Come as you are