Gesuschic

I was born with a congenital heart defect. At six months old my parents rushed me to the emergency room, long story short the doctors found that I had aortic stenosis. I’ve had two open heart surgeries in my lifetime, including a valve replacement from a pig cadaver. (Which is why some friends call me “pig..” haha, and the haters thought it was because I was chubby 😉 )
To say the least, I was born with a heart like no other.
I do see things unlike other people. Maybe it was a “heart thing,” maybe it was how I was raised or who I was raised by…I don’t know. But with the past few years, my experiences with unforeseen circumstances and turning points, I would have to say it added to my view from the heart.
I’ve been so angry.
No.
I AM angry.
My mother was a woman who took every possible situation, good or bad to get tight knit with The Father. Taught me the same. But man…here lately, I don’t feel so tight knit. In fact, I feel as though I’m coming loose at the seams. My mind is crazy unsettled. Music and incense isn’t even bringing me peace. I know Believers should keep a tough exterior, but when you read the Bible none before me (including Christ Himself) had it easy. Ever…And when I try comparing my hardship to that of David, Paul, John…Peter, There is none. In fact, when I compare my life to theirs I seem like a big fat wuss. I don’t even come close to being as strong as I thought I was.
But still, I can’t do this.
Every corner of my comeback seems filled with disappointment and failure.
I feel like I’m standing on a threshold of a mental breakdown and I keep myself from exhaling in fear of falling…again.
Trying to keep a smile on my face and kicking down every door slammed in my way, but my “tough girl” act is wearing thin and I’m just angry at why God is allowing this to happen.
I have no right to complain.
I’ve not been crucified.
Dipped in hot oil.
Stoned by my peers.
Or exiled on an island left to die all alone.
But still…My anger is rising and I find myself starting to blame the very one who loves me the most. I truly am, no better, than the one who looked Jesus in the face and pushed the thorns through the skin on His scalp.
But still…as hypocritical as it is, I’m angry.
Where is God at?
What in the hell is He doing?
Can I even get an angel of mercy during my suffering?
I feel forgotten.
I’m lost in a whirlwind of bullshit circumstance and I’m feeling like the tide has swept me away from shore and He’s not even sending me a life jacket of peace. Perhaps I shouldn’t write such blasphemy, but in my view of how I see thing’s, I hope that by writing this blog, being honest, someone, somewhere can say “wow…I feel the same way…” At least I can be their glimmer of hope, in my own dark well of dry and barren land…
Just because I love God, doesn’t mean I can never be angry at Him…
Feel distant from Him…
Feel forgotten by Him…
I see the favor. My situation can be so much worse.
But like my Pastor says…I’m a lot better at being “spiritual” when sipping on a latte, laying on a beach full of sunshine, and my only inconvenience is that my sunglasses broke. (haha)
I struggle becoming bitter…I feel as though this season of “gypsy” is way long overdue for an ending. I fight that party invitation to the pity and it pisses me off even more.
My struggle isn’t my identity, although I feel to those around me, it’s starting to be.
I was sitting in church last Sunday and I felt hopelessly numb.
Towards the end, Pastor Matt was praying and all of a sudden I felt my eyes roll in the back of my head. The feeling you get as a child when you lean back on the swing as your body lifts forward. I held my breath and there it was.
A vision.
First one in a VERY long time.
My hair was so shiny. I felt as though I was standing on a cloud and there was NOTHING but a sweet smell of peace. It sounds crazy and I can only describe it as such…a smell of peace.
I was small…
And God was leaning down towards me. His hands reached out. I felt terrified, yet comforted by His presence, so I stepped forward, onto my tippy toes.
I couldn’t control my face as I smiled from ear to ear.
He was so full of light. Brighter than I had EVER seen…I wanted to look into His face so bad but the light…I had to close my eyes as He came closer to me and with His hands, both of them. He cradled my face.
Then, just like that I jumped.
Sitting in my church pew looking around wondering if I had just fallen asleep and dreamed what had happened.
But Pastor Matt was still on the same prayer for the person who had gone forward. It could have only been a second.
It was a vision.
I’m angry.
I’m still angry.
But He is STILL…right here.
You may be just like me. Wondering around in your helpless barren land of cold darkness.
Temptation and lies of a destiny in hopeless drought.
Being pulled in a direction that may appear safer for your heart.
But closing it, is not an option. Even in the midst of my selfish anger…God cared enough to find me in the middle of a church congregation. When dozens ran forward to find Him, I stayed feeling numb with my anger and yet He pursued me.
Am I still angry today?
Yep…
But in my season of feeling spiritual numbness, He came to me. And with that, I will cling even tighter and my loosened seams from last week…are a tad…tighter knit today 😉
Be angry…You’re only human.
We battle constantly with our flesh. Just as those who walked before us. This is just a very small part of my story. My journey to a comeback.
I hope it was okay I shared it with you.
I hope I was your angel of mercy (in a positive manner).
But even more so, in the middle of my struggle, I hope I made a difference in yours.

SELAH…
Cheryl

I broke down this past week.
My mind has been spinning.
I’ve been so completely overwhelmed.
It’s been weeks since I’ve been at church and I so covet the time with my spiritual family.
The season is beginning to change and the grief I work so hard to keep under control throughout the Summer months, begins to stir in my belly and violently shakes the broken part of my soul awake.
It’s relentless and callous.
It knows no mercy and holds back absolutely nothing.
I’ve said a million times in every lifetime I’ve lived, that the glass I carry, no matter what it’s filled with, is looked at as half full, never half empty, but oh my God…The Fall.
As beautifully significant the leaves are, as they lay upon the cold wet streets. They have “fallen” none the less.
The once bloomed and vibrant color of life, in the sunshine of Summer has gone, and change begins to chill the air, turning crisp and cold. And again I become my own worst enemy as I fight to keep myself from becoming the same way.
A constant battle to refrain from becoming cold, callous and bitter because of this grief I carry and wear as a cloak around my neck. 
Normally I can dig deep and remind myself of who I am.
A fighter.
A woman who has risen a thousand times over from the ashes of life’s cruel punches and do over’s.
A believer in faith that moves the biggest of mountains.
A mother who will fight to give her children a glimmer of hope at a new and fresh beginning.
But there’s something about the season of Fall.
The name itself shows intent.
I brace myself for it every year, but every time I fail.
Falling to pieces just like the leaves.
I feel myself losing my mind and falling apart wondering: Am I EVER going to have my shit together?
I’m terrified and frightened by the fact that when a little bit of light is showing and I feel a ray of hope in this darkened season, the crisp cool air reminds me of the bitterness about to come and an avalanche of emotion knocks me backward.
Honestly, with every Fall season it gets harder and harder and harder to go through this battle. I don’t want anymore do over’s or fresh starts, I NEED settled.
My precious children need a sense of security. But instead they get lessons in:
“people come and go”
“smile through the pain”
and never feeling rooted anywhere.
We get forgotten and tend to wear out welcomes and a sense of “home” is lost in translation.
They’ve seen me cry and break down more so this time, than any other time that we’ve had to crawl into yet, another “do over” season and it sucks soo bad.
I’m starting to break.
I’m spinning out of control.
I’m so overwhelmed.

Barely Breathing,
Cheryl