Remind me to tell you about Dora the Explorer and the Snow Princess. Somehow, some way, somewhere…. Dora and company (pulled by a blue Mexican bull) in a SLEIGH, set off to save the Princessa. From WHAT, I do not know. Got me. En route they encounter the Pirate Piggies. Yes, piggies. *sigh*, and…I’ll just stop right there. I’m not the kind of chick that watches Dora, yet NOW, I do. It’s a first. One of many. Tonight was a pajama party conga line through the kitchen with my Lily to deter her from getting into the fridge and rearranging the salad dressings on the bottom of the door. Those salad dressings are like baby-crack. She cannot stay away. That, and the ketchup bottle. Takes ‘em out. Puts ‘em back in. She’s hilarious. My little girl completes me in a way I didn’t know I needed completing. Perfects me in a way, as to finish and continue to make me whole. Lots of mothers talk incessantly about the love they have for their children. It’s okay to do that. It reads boring at times. I can tell you about Lily, because I don’t consider that I was ever the kind of girl to be a mother.

And here’s where we get to it.

I watch ‘Private Practice’. Not all the time, it’s on late, but I do watch. More recently. Amelia is really bugging me. She’s a neurosurgeon, has been sober for 10 years, watches her best friend die and now she’s drinking, using all kinds of drugs, stealing, and sleeping around. I am on the edge of my seat hoping that girl will get saved. I feel that way because I can relate. Too well. I used to be a bartender. True story. So, if you think I’m writing from some sort of lofty, mystical platitude- I’m not. I’m shocked and surprised by what God’s done in my life. He did for me what I did not have the power to do, what I could not have planned, and didn’t even dream of. His plan was so far afield from my limited ideas, I can’t even begin to describe it.  I used to drink.  I loved it. Really loved it. My whole attitude was turned toward drinking. It was the way I relaxed. The way I celebrated. The way I broke the ice. Felt a part of.  Attractive. Happy. Young and alive. Notice I said my whole attitude was turned toward drinking. It’s how I got the power to feel alive. I prayed to booze.

I was young. I made mistakes. I began to be out of control and things happened. I frequently disappointed people and embarrassment followed my actions. At night, I kept a notebook. I’d drink, drink, drink and when I came home, late in the evening, or early in the morning- depending on your point of view I felt moral despair, spiritual pain, desperation, and loneliness. I don’t remember a lot of what I did or what I wrote, but I do remember waking one morning to see that amongst some horrible admissions, vulgar drawings, and tormented thoughts, I had written a prayer. A prayer? I didn’t pray, I drank. Yes, a prayer. Even with all the scotch, my soul longed for God. It took being in an impossible situation to bring enough suffering, to realize I didn’t have the power to be perfect. To live up to imaginary expectations. To be YOU. I didn’t think much of me, and the more I drank, the more I was sure I was right. My insides cried out that night for help. And I wrote in swervy, boozy letters:

Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory- forever and ever. Amen.

HOW did that happen? My spirit had called out to God. My way didn’t work. I asked him to help, even if it was just in a notebook and not out loud. Eventually that prayer was answered. God answered me and I don’t have to drink today. It’s been a real long time since then. I’ve spent the past fifteen years growing up. His word was written on my heart, somehow and it saved me. In the literal sense of the word. My attitude turned from scotch. Through prayer, my attitude turned toward God. And that’s what prayer is for me. Turning myself in His direction. Getting God-focused. 

So when I express delight at my daughter running through the kitchen trying to evade a diaper change, or get super excited over her new tooth, or the first time she said, “juice”; take it from me…from where I was to where God has placed me now, I can’t help but be overwhelmed. I don’t deserve the life I live, yet I am blessed just the same. God has loved me and kept me safe. He does the same for my daughter. And, I daresay the same for you. My heart wanted to love. He provided. His word is written on my heart and it was written in that notebook in 1990-something…prayer works.

Proverbs 7:1-3 NASB

1 My son, keep my words
And treasure my commandments within you.

2 Keep my commandments and live,
And my teaching as the apple of your eye.

3 Bind them on your fingers;
Write them on the tablet of your heart.

We all start somewhere. I am sort of easing into my testimony. Giving a little background tonight, before the actual moment of truth. It’s on my mind to inject some relevancy into these words. The only way I can do that is to tell you about it. The truth is, I started out embarrassed by the name of Jesus Christ. Embarrassed. Before I became a Christian I thought  people who only had ONE way to heaven, ONE point of view, ONE way of thinking were narrow-minded, probably a little simple, brainwashed, stupid, and I daresay wrong. I didn’t say this to anyone out loud, but I would think, God is great. I’m “ok” with God. He knows I’m basically a good person trying to do the best I can in this world, but if we could have a little more God and a little less Jesus Christ, that would be better. Less embarrassing. I mean he’s pictured nailed to a cross, there’s blood, and sweat, and I saw that movie, Passion of the Christ- it was horrible (I thought at the time). Can’t everyone just believe what they WISH to believe and let’s call it a day?! I wanted less Jesus Christ-ing.

I feel like a real piece of pumpernickel telling you I was embarrassed of Christ. I felt it silly to mention Him. I cringed on the inside when people breathed the words, ‘Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior”.  That’s the truth. I had done pretty much everything I could do to maintain what I perceived as my independence. My Facebook status used to read Religion: Freedom of (and don’t try to change my mind). I was pretty much a stalwart, mind your own d- business and stay out of mine kinda chick. Yeah, that really took me places. Lotsa places. Not the good kind. I wore all black. Couldn’t look anyone in the eye.

I just paused for a moment writing this because I had written into a corner. Either I go ALL IN or I don’t. I guess I’ll just say it then.

This is the story of how I went from embarrassed of Christ to saved by His grace.

OK. Backing it up. Wore all black. I have a background in concert music. Mostly, we wore all black for performances. I’m overweight and black is oh-so-slimming. It matches EVERYTHING. That’s all fine and dandy. No need to get overly dramatic and paint myself as some pale-faced, vampire-y, goth girl. That, I’m not. I’m from Connecticut. I’m pretty conservative with a side of empathetic understanding. I really think we all have spiritual gifts. I joked to a new friend last night that mine might be babbling….oh, so true. But, really- if I had to pinpoint the “thang” that God poured into me that comes second nature it’s the ability to put myself in someone else’s shoes and see their perspective. Why they’d think, feel, or act as they do. It’s a kind of empathetic information. It’s been tested and tried a lot in the last two years, but it’s intact. Still workin’. Nothing can take it away.

Now, other people. They had something I didn’t. Yes, I got the empathy. But, I was 35 years old and if you really want to know how I felt it was this: less than, not good enough, ashamed, unworthy, secretive. Yes, I did do a lot of things to try to make those feelings magically turn into self-esteem, happiness, confidence, assurance. Things like the right jeans, the expensive makeup, the fresh pedicure, smoking cigarettes, wearing the v-neck top that’s a little too low, if you know what I mean….THINGS. You know what I’m talking about. I don’t need to tell you. Even with all the “things” I still reverted back to what I thought of me. That’s the problem in a nutshell. I was thinking about me. Not thinking about what I could do for someone else. I was turned all the way inward. I had become too important to my own self. All I knew of me were the bad messages I was subconsciously whispering on the inside. I believed my own cerebral press. Too inside my own head to see clearly.

I could see all the good in YOU. You were prettier. Smarter. Better educated. Had a nicer car. Were a nicer person. Had a better job, a better relationship, a better life, kids, the list goes on…and on… I was jealous of you. I envied you to the core. I wanted everything you had and I wanted it like it was past due. I burned with it. Enter some new people. I began finding some friends in the evenings. I noticed some of these people had something I couldn’t put my finger on, but it was like they were LIT UP from the inside. One such lady, my friend Evonne (who I’m way overdue getting in touch with) literally shone. Her light. On the inside. It actually could light up a room. Still does. My friend Val (who I’m also truant with) has a humility and helpfulness and energy that made me feel safe and encouraged. My friend Dawn (who took the pictures at my baby shower who I haven’t seen in forever– notice a pattern here? I need to get back in the game) has a down-to-earth quality that spoke to me of authenticity. And my friend Drena (who I will go to Hibachi with the next time I’m in town like not a day has passed) is the sweetest, tough-as-nails,most compassionate woman I’ve ever met.

Plus, she prayed.

 And she used the name of Jesus Christ when she did. And she prayed for me. They all did. They prayed for me and with me and in my company. Eventually, I began to think they might have the secret to life. What did they know that I didn’t? I was smart. In this case, intelligence was a complete liability.

What’s next? Oh, alright…so I’m impressed with these gals to the point of thinking they possess the secret to life. I am going through a particularly hard time (at the time) and Drena’s friend Debra makes a suggestion. Here it goes. Debra says, so I was told, when she needs comforting, a good thing to read for comfort was in the Bible. The Book of John. I was in tremendous pain and would have done anything to make it go away. So, Miss Religious Freedom, don’t tell me what to do, read (drumroll) THE GOSPEL.

I knew from Catholic “education” that the gospel was the “good news”. I missed  a LOT of classes so I didn’t really know what that good news WAS. I read John and found out for myself. Three things stood out for me:

• Light -I had always felt my life in the dark. Now I was being told of light. (John 1:1-13)

1 In the beginning the Word already existed.
The Word was with God,
and the Word was God.2 He existed in the beginning with God.3 God created everything through him,
and nothing was created except through him.4 The Word gave life to everything that was created,
and his life brought light to everyone.5 The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness can never extinguish it.6 God sent a man, John the Baptist,7 to tell about the light so that everyone might believe because of his testimony.8 John himself was not the light; he was simply a witness to tell about the light. 9 The one who is the true light, who gives light to everyone, was coming into the world.
10 He came into the very world he created, but the world didn’t recognize him.11 He came to his own people, and even they rejected him.12 But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God. 13 They are reborn—not with a physical birth resulting from human passion or plan, but a birth that comes from God.

• Living water- my spirit could be refreshed (John 7:37-39 NLT)

37 On the last day, the climax of the festival, Jesus stood and shouted to the crowds, “Anyone who is thirsty may come to me!38 Anyone who believes in me may come and drink! For the Scriptures declare, ‘Rivers of living water will flow from his heart.’”

39 (When he said “living water,” he was speaking of the Spirit, who would be given to everyone believing in him. But the Spirit had not yet been given, because Jesus had not yet entered into his glory.)

• The way, the truth, the life – basically, a sign. An arrow. The way to follow.

John 14:6 NLT

Jesus told him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me.

That’s a lot of scripture right there. Jesus brought light to the world. Believers receive the Holy Spirit like living water. The way to God is through Jesus Christ. Believe me, I was not focusing on all of that when I read John. I was seeking comfort. I was, indeed comforted by the hope of the gospel. No matter what I concluded or didn’t conclude at that point, I remember reading the words and feeling the truth in them and receiving the love of God.

It took more than reading the gospel. I had to hear the Gospel. My friend Val had issued an open-no pressure invitation to her church anytime I wanted to go. She just put it out there and I smiled, but didn’t take her up on it right away. Well, now I really wanted to go. I called her and asked her if we could go and she met me at the front door. I went in ….

and it was like the waiting line for a ride at Walt Disney World. 

There was an energy to the place. They had peppermint candies. People were friendly. They wore jeans. I didn’t feel out-of-place. I fit right in. This wasn’t my grandma’s church, let’s just say. I’ve sometimes called it, “The Church of Rock and Roll”. That’s not accurate. It’s a flip way to say that it’s real. And there is great music. People worship God. It’s palpable. Well, I went that night. My insides were stirred by the music. I had never heard worship music before. Not this kind. Not this way. I was feeling it. I was at Celebration Church. People weren’t embarrassed to show their fondness of Jesus. It was clear that Jesus loved them. Nobody gets that excited about anything unless they’re being loved. God loved these people. And they were loving God back. Pastor Stovall was preaching. It’s what he does. He asked if anyone wanted to receive Christ. Somebody’s legs stood up, pushed hurriedly over to the Connection area and saw her friend Dawn. It was a divinely appointed moment. Someone I knew. Someone I trusted. Someone I knew was the real deal. She asked me if I wanted to receive Christ. I don’t remember how she asked me that, but I assure you she put toes to the line and asked. I really, really did want this. We knelt. She led me in a prayer. I asked God to forgive my sins. I declared Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. I got up off my knees… and I’ve never been the same. I would have shot myself before causing a ruckus and pushing my way through a row of twenty people to respond to Christ. Yet, I did.

Here’s the thing, and I’ll quit, because it’s getting really late and I’m a mom and I only get a few hours of sleep as it is. Let’s cut to the chase. Enough pussyfooting around….it’s important. Here’s the thing. There was something on the inside of me that let me know it was true. I believe it’s the Holy Spirit. I believe when we hear the truth, we know and we have a choice to be set free. I got free that day. Free to receive the love of God. Free to learn about him through His Word. Free to worship him as I chose. Free to tell people about what He’s done for me or not. Fact is, I’m blessed beyond all measure. I have a beautiful strawberry blond-headed little blue-eyed angel that I have the privilege of loving, knowing, caring for, being amused by, cuddling, and praying for. She is an example to me of the love of Christ. My Lily is what changed me into the girl I was meant to become. And my lily-the gift of eternal life through Christ is what God wanted to give me all along. Lilies aren’t just for Easter, you know. We all start somewhere.

-Dana

So, the night my Lily came into the world there was a sound. Baptist South Maternity Ward is probably used to loud sounds, but it was the first time I ever moo-ed like a cow. “Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo….!!!!!!” Every contraction brought a moo. Here a moo, there a moo. Everywhere a ….(well you get the point). My baby was born three weeks premature. For a procrastinator that posed several challenges. We’ll get to that another time. Before the moo-ing, it was high drama. BEFORE the moo-ing it was high drama? Yes. Before. Let me explain…

I had been to a routine high-risk OB appointment at Baptist Downtown.Routine and high-risk should never be next to each other in a sentence, but so be it. There’s always risk. I was over 35. I was overweight. Anemic. Gastric bypassed. Single. Not rich. Need I go on? We all have our own “stuff”. So here’s the setup. I’m at this doctor’s appointment. They do the extra ultrasounding so they can check to see if the baby is growing perfectly. This always made me anxious. I mean, every time I went there they would tell me the baby was a little small, or a little too long, or not this or too much that…I suppose doctors have to do what they have to do. My job was to carry the baby. I carried. Until that day. At that appointment. The doctor pulled up a rolling stool. Leaned in. Put a hand on my arm. Looked in my eyes. (enough build up for you yet?) And said the following:

The baby is not growing the way she needs to inside of you. She’s growth restricted. You need to go on bed rest immediately and maybe that will give the baby more blood, oxygen, and nutrients.

Hold up. WHAT? I have to stop working? It’s just me and this baby. What are we going to live on? I can’t even go to the grocery store? Who’s going to take care of me? I’m by myself. Oh my God… (a plea, not a swear) They strap me to a baby monitor to see about the movement of my little punkin and you guessed it- nobody’s moving. I’m not moving. She’s not moving. We were told NOT to move, right? But NOW it’s a bad thing. Ok, ok…the doctors (now there is more than one) come in. Note to anyone listening. When there’s more than one doctor in the room you’ve got their attention. If you’ve got more than one doctor’s attention something MIGHT be wrong.

Here were the instructions. We need to admit you to the HOSPITAL (for observation). All I heard was (for observation). I was WAY pregnant. I had ceased being my usual logical self. Ask any of my coworkers at the time. I had trouble NOT telling you what I thought. Stuff would just fly out of my mouth. I had stopped being Miss Okay Whatever You Need. I didn’t have TIME. I didn’t feel well. Nobody told me when you were pregnant you really wouldn’t feel WELL a LOT! There were days I couldn’t keep my eyes open and nights I couldn’t get them to shut. I threw up. I couldn’t eat. Then all I could eat were oranges. Five a day. And red meat. Peach sorbet….but I digress.  Back to the “Get to the hospital RIGHT AWAY” part.

So, I did what they told me. No I didn’t. I am me. I knew it was possible I’d have to stay overnight. I went home. I packed my body pillow, my neck roll pillow (by this time I couldn’t lie comfortably), a change of clothes, my laptop, my cellphone charger and my bible. I was supposed to go directly to the hospital. I rationalized that I had things to take care of. Who would get my clothes? How would I call anyone? Oh, and I had better stop at McDonald’s on the way to the hospital. Everyone knows they never let you eat when you first go in. I was a sight. Eight months pregnant. In July. Florida. Sweating. With the pillows, the bag, my purse (which weighs 40 lbs. on its own), and a bag of Mickey D’s. I show up at the admission desk with my ”stuff” and think to myself. I really wish I had somebody to help me. I felt sorry for myself a bit and sucked it up and went up the elevator to the floor where they jailed the pregnant ladies. “I’m here. Let’s do this observatin’…”

They strap on the baby monitor…and away we go… I needed support. I logged onto the internet. I don’t really know what logging on is, but I joined the Daily Devo group Alex Tran was leading (in progress) and typed that I didn’t want to talk, just listen and let him know I was in the hospital. I had been serving at church answering online prayer requests, so I sort of ”knew” Alex. I can tell you that it was only those prayers that kept me going. Throughout my pregnancy I typed responses to the requests and pondered the new life forming in me and got outside me and my problems. I wasn’t super great at it. I didn’t even pray very well. I just showed up and learned how to listen and how to look for answers in God’s Word. When I got a request I would always think, ‘what does the bible say about that’. I’m no spiritual rocket scientist, so I’d look up all that the bible had to say about people’s problems. There were money problems, relationship problems, health problems, all kinds of things. It’s the human condition. We’ve got some issues. I’m not Ms. Perfect. I imagine you aren’t either. (especially if you’re a guy)

Where was I going? Oh, I’m in the hospital. I connect to the devo group. Then I moo like a cow. Savvy? Not really? Ok, I forgot to tell you my water broke and I started having contractions THEN cue the moo-ing. All that to say…you could HEAR the MOO-ing. I’ll never forget it. It was the sound of me having a baby. It was real. It was bizarre, sort of. But it was definitely real.

Before I found out I was pregnant I was holding hands with a bunch of folks saying the Lord’s prayer. Before you judge and think that’s kinda weird, just know it was a normal-type deal. Where I was, doing what I was doing, with who I was with, we do that sort of thing. Don’t worry yourself about it. My eyes were closed. Everyone was saying the prayer. I sometimes didn’t say the words and just soaked up the connection with a higher power. God could be felt when we were all together and I just wanted to feel that. I heard a voice speak to my heart…

You’re going to have a daughter named Lily.

 What was that? You must be joking. You’re crazy, Dana. You’re never going to have a child. You’re not even adult-like. You work all the time. You like to stay up late. You don’t even like kids that much. How nuts is that? And I ignored what I heard. Fast forward a few months later and when I was puking my guts out with the “flu” and couldn’t keep my eyes open and took a pregnancy test and it turned up positive…you’d think I’d catch a clue. Nope. I bought another test. Denial runs deep. The next test also said “Pregnant”. I made a doctor’s appointment. Must be a mistake. Sure enough, PREGNANT. Now, don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying I didn’t do anything to get pregnant. My becoming a Christian, getting saved, getting baptized, trying to live a new kind of life deal had it’s early bumps and bruises. I struggled with sin in many areas. It was a rocky transformational time. God’s not finished with me yet, as my daughter’s Hermie the Caterpillar Book so eloquently points out. Ok, I’m pregnant. The voice I heard in my heart during the Lord’s prayer was not my voice, it was, I believe the Holy Spirit preparing me for what was to come. And basically, I knew I had heard from God. Heard from God? Yes. Heard from God. I knew nobody would understand it, so I didn’t tell a lot of folks.

Let’s recap. I heard moo-ing. But before that I heard from God. I kept thinking about the line in the First Steps Book for Christians that talked about how God especially likes to bless NEW believers. I was a new believer and I had hoped God would really give me some sort of kick-back or reward for all my faith and stuff. Ha. The very thought of it makes me cringe. I really desired a special gift from God, though…in my heart that was the want. I never consciously wanted a child. I mean, I did…but I always dismissed it immediately by looking at my capability or lack thereof, finances, lack of a husband, immaturity, had just really turned my life around after about 10 years, etc… and BAM. God delivered. Well, to be technical I actually delivered Lily, but God gave her to me. My special blessing for being a new believer. Something I never thought I could have. Something I didn’t deserve. Something that could bring me more love, joy and completeness than I’d ever imagine.

There were many days I didn’t know how I’d be able to have a child and raise a child and be a momma. I had heard from God. That gave me the faith. And so, my life verse…

 

 Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart. (Psalm 37:4)

Talk to you soon! Love you for reading! – Dana