Our Past Follows Us.

(I give permission for anyone to copy my posts for any reason.)

My husband loves the dozens (actually, a lot more than that I think) of Christmas movies that are found on Netflix and Amazon Prime. He has always liked action movies too, but lately he has focused on these Christmas movies. I find most of them sappy and badly written, but some of them are really good.

Last night, when we were watching one, my husband said, “I like these kinds of movies because they show happy families. I grew up in an unhappy family so it’s nice to see.” I’m so glad he told me that, because as tough as my husband is, and anyone could tell you he is a tough guy, I wondered why he liked these movies.

I know someone who loves crime shows. But she only likes the ones where the criminal is caught. She wants to see that person go to jail or executed. I think she gravitates to these shows because in her childhood, her life was threatened by a family member in the middle of the night. She would wake up with a sharp knife at her throat.

I like to read books or watch movies about real people who have overcome great difficulty: abuse, neglect, an illness. I think I am always searching for answers how to overcome my past.

Years ago, I used to have a recurring dream. My father and I were in a bus; he was driving and I was in the passenger seat. I looked over at him and he was laughing maniacally while speeding along the highway. Then I would wake up.

After years of therapy and talking with God I began healing. One night I had the same dream, except this time I was driving and he was in the passenger seat. I was feeling peace.

I have healed quite a bit, but I’m not cured of my mental illness. I still have problems with how I see myself. I still have automatic thoughts that plague me. But I am better, by the grace of God who helps me every day.

I have to ask him for that help. I can’t sit back day by day leaving God out of my life. I need him. If I don’t give myself to him each day, I start waking up wishing I was dead. I start getting depressed and hopeless. He keeps me from all that by prayer so that even if these thoughts pop up, I know he will help me. I just say, “God, I don’t want to think that. Give me something good to think.” And he does.

May God help all of us who have psychological problems. They can be devastating, but may God give us strength to walk through them.

God Lifted Me Up.

 

nature moss hills bog
A Bog: Photo by Jaymantri on Pexels.com

I was re-reading Psalm 40 and was moved to gratefulness again.

Psalm 40:

I waited patiently for the Lord;

he turned to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the slimy pit,

out of the mud and mire;

he set my feet on a rock

and gave me a firm place to stand.

 He put a new song in my mouth,

a hymn of praise to our God.

Many will see and fear the Lord

and put their trust in him.

I do feel God has lifted me out of a miry bog, or quicksand. I was sinking because of the memories of my father sexually abusing me. I was sinking in shame, mental illness and depression. But through the years he lifted me up out of that.

It didn’t happen quickly. It takes time for the mind to heal. Am I completely well body and soul? No. But I am now standing on the rock, Jesus. My feet are no longer slipping and sliding. I understand how to run to him, to pour out my heart to him and to let him give me peace. Perfect peace? Yes and no.

You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.  Isaiah 26:3

I used to think that when we had perfect peace it would never go away. But I was wrong. Our peace is disrupted when life brings obstacles or tragedy. Satan messes with our peace when he whispers negative thoughts to us.

So, we have to go back again to God and tell him how we feel and ask for his peace. We need to go again and again through the day and quote uplifting Bible verses praising God. Satan cannot stay where God is being praised and trusted. This is what I think Paul meant when he wrote, “Fight the good fight of faith.”

I learned most of this through Joyce Meyer. I watch her TV show every day. She focuses on how to live the Christian life. She was raped by her father for most of her childhood. She understands.

I still have a mental illness. I still hear my little girl inside say things. But I don’t mind too much. I try my best to stay away from things that trigger me. I can honestly say I am mostly happy and at peace. It is a wonderful feeling. He lifted me up out of the slimy pit, out of the mire and mud.

Psalm 40 is a Messianic psalm. Commentators have said the feelings expressed in this psalm are what Jesus felt. I’m going to write about that next time.

 

 

 

 

My Mother is Home.

I’m happy to say my mother moved back in with us. She had gotten a lot stronger the last three weeks at the rehabilitation center. She could get out of bed, use her walker, go to the bathroom by herself, and had gained weight.

As I saw her getting better, I prayed she would be able to read and watch TV again, if it was God’s will. She can! Not only that, she can play Yahtzee. It is absolutely amazing. The doctors and nurses don’t understand how this happened. They had decided she needed to live in a nursing home and have lots of help. Her short-term memory was terrible, but it is much better now. They don’t know why.

I think it was some of the pills she was on. They took her off everything for awhile and then put her back on the most essential pills at a low dose. I think that was the problem. She is easy to take care of now; I can do it with no problem. She is very happy and so am I. I feel relaxed now, since I can make sure she is happy and well-fed. She has an appetite now, which she lost almost 2 years ago.

I called my sister and told her; she called later and said, “I asked God, “What was THAT all about???  She didn’t understand why we all had to go through all this: Mom’s broken hip, her infection, her living with me when she needed turning in bed every 20 minutes or so, back to rehab where she was so unhappy, and then me having a mental breakdown.

I told her I wasn’t sure why it all happened, but I trusted God there was a good reason. For one thing, I got more practice trusting God – not begging him to do what I wanted, just telling him I trusted Him in what was happening. I’ve only learned to do this off and on the last 5 years or so. It feels good to me and I’m sure I pleased my Father, which also makes me feel good.

It could also be that my younger daughter learned to trust God more. She is a bigger worrier than I am. But the Lord spoke to her, and I’m sure she is closer to him than she was before. Perhaps my mom learned something through her ordeal. I don’t know, but one day I will. I do know one thing. None of us learns anything when life is wonderful, except maybe gratitude.