The Common Ground Between Me and Steve Gleason

 

Verbal communication is not one of my core strengths. I physically need time to think, analyze and process my feelings or thoughts.  As it happens I am very often at a loss for words when trying to verbalize or convey my thoughts around a certain subject.

Occasionally someone will explain something in a way I couldn’t and suddenly I have the words I’ve needed. This happened when my husband and I watched Gleason over the weekend.  This is a film about former NFL player Steve Gleason’s journey from a diagnosis of ALS (Lou Gherig’s Disease) to a life totally altered because of its debilitating affects. It is a tough watch. Very gritty and raw. It is also very poignant and reflective.

Throughout the film, Gleason makes video journals for his son, who is born just months after his ALS diagnosis.  Gleason routinely shares his heart often talking about the dynamics of a Father and Son relationship. In one of those videos, Gleason discusses his relationship with his dad and the difficult subject of Faith because the two do not see eye to eye.  

In one particular scene, Gleason pleads with his Dad through impeded speech as a result of the advancing ALS and says these words “Stop trying to understand with your mind, the relationship with my heart and God.”  Watch this:

It is a heart wrenching scene.  And yet it so adequately explains something I’ve grappled with for some time now.  I have always felt my relationship with God is almost an oddity. I happen to see connections to God in subtlest of circumstances.  But anytime I’ve tried to explain those experiences with others, my words fall flat. This happened most recently when I endeavored to share a story about a hummingbird that floated right beside my head for a few seconds before landing on a tree branch directly in front me.  I had intentionally walked outside, taking a break from my workday, just to spend a few moments being still before God.  Then this hummingbird showed up and sat still with me - for the longest time.  I marveled at this sight because I’ve only ever seen hummingbirds in flight.  I began to think of all the times Jesus used birds in his stories to teach people.  It was a profound moment but trying to explain that in person was like watching a fish out of water gasping on its side.

Whenever I fall short in this same situation over again, I am left feeling like an odd man out.  I chalk it up to my lackluster lingual skills.  I will re-read “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” and in that same chapter of Romans a verse below “Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you.” I'll ponder that maybe God has rewired my mind in such a way that he has just given me a different measure of faith. It’s not more or less, right or wrong, it’s just different.  

When Steve Gleason said “Stop trying to understand with YOUR mind, the relationship with MY heart and GOD.”  That explained it.  How could I expect someone with their mind, slanted towards their own heart, thoughts and experiences possibly understand the relationship between my heart and God. How could I ever adequately describe with finite words a relationship between MY HEART and GOD? Impossible. It’s to great a task, to monumental.  I should expect that no one could fully understand and that words would fall short time and time again.  This totally makes sense.

I have often thought that Truth can be found anywhere, anytime, from any person because all Truth belongs to God especially because Jesus said "I AM the Truth".  Added to that, I’ve seen God dispense Truth through the most unlikely faces and places.  This time through a film about Steve Gleason. Though Gleason’s disease has robbed him of the physical life he once knew, his heart and mind are still, without question, very relevant. I have a deep gratitude to Steve Gleason for those simple words that cost him such an effort to utter. Thank you Steve,  I’ll be thinking about and praying for you and your family in the days to come.

For more information about Gleason or ALS:  

• http://www.teamgleason.org/
• http://www.alsa.org/about-als/what-is-als.html

Two Faces of Racism & I've been One of Them.

 "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character." As I listened to this recording of Martin Luther King Jr. this morning, I was saddened because we are still not there yet 54 years later. 

I've seen two faces of racism that I'm hesitant to talk about for reasons that will become clear.   I'm doing it anyway though because I can't talk about the subject of Racism without being honest about the two faces of Racism that I've seen.  At one time, that face was my parent but later, that face was my own. 

In 1982, I lived in rural Elgin, Texas .  Elgin was a small agriculture town so there were  a lot of homes on acreage lots including ours.  We lived in an area where there were neighbors spread out around us occupying their own acreage but there were no other kids in the area.  In fact, when I walked down the dirt road to the school bus stop, I was the only kid the bus was stopping to pick up.  I was pretty isolated  but I passed time outside doing what country kids do and or inside reading.

Elgin, Texas

While at home one sweltering Summer day, I looked out the window to see a black boy walking down the dirt path passing my house.  I was so excited to see another kid my age, I ran outside to meet him.  He was 10 years old like me and we talked outside for about 20 minutes or so.  I was disappointed when he had to leave and get back to his Aunt's house.  When I walked back inside my house, I was completely taken by surprise and immediately assaulted by my parent.  I was picked up off the ground by the throat and while my head was repeatedly beat into the wall behind me, I received the message why this was happening.  It was because I had been outside talking to a black boy.  It wasn't the first time I looked into the face of Racism, it was just the first time I felt the consequences of it.  It's a memory from my childhood that I can't erase but here's the good thing that came out of  it.  At the tender age of 10, I knew in the deepest corner of my heart that Racism was WRONG.  I knew it was wrong and I promised myself to never discredit, disqualify, or dismiss someone because of skin color. Still, seeds were planted, the soil was fertile and the heart is more malleable than we know.

Me in 1982

Fast forward 19 years when  I lived in Dallas, Texas and worked at Sun Microsystems. It was Tuesday. September 11th, 2001 and the plane that was headed for the Pentagon just crashed in a field.   I remember standing in an elevator and feeling fear crawl up my spine; seeds planted long ago suddenly sprouted in the fertile soil of Racism . I spent the next decade with an intense dislike and distrust for people from the Middle East.  I stereotyped and I judged all Middle Easterners.  I gave myself permission and license to be uncaring, unkind and unloving.  Yet,  God always knows the condition of man's heart and while I didn't see it then, I can see now that God wasn't going to allow my heart to remain this way without shedding some light on my ignorance first. 

There were 3 key events that changed my heart & mind.  First, was when my husband and I relocated from Arizona  to Texas.  We found a house on-line, saw it in person once and bought it knowing very little about the area or neighborhood.  Only later, did we discover,  the majority of our neighbors were Middle Eastern.  In that brief time,  I was friendly with a neighbor who often invited me over for tea.   We would sit on floor cushions drinking tea made with spices from her home country.  We talked about the challenges of raising our babies.  We talked about our Faith, the differences between Islam and Christianity.  We shared humor and laughed together.  It was a good, good thing.  As I would come and go, I would notice the Muslim and Sikh families on my street.  The kids ran and played outside.  The mothers scolded or smiled at their children. Grandparents almost always lived with the family and the fathers worked day in/day out supporting the whole family unit.  Not that different...from us.  Very much the same...as us.

House in Murphy, Texas 2006

We moved back to Arizona after a year and a half and faithfully God kept working in my heart.  As the years progressed, I would often feel very convicted for my lack of love toward people from the Middle East which finally led to the second thing that happened.  There was no catalytic event exactly.  The only way to describe it is to use lying as an example. Similar to that 'feeling' you get immediately after you tell someone a lie.  It's a very simple feeling; you lied, it was wrong.  I think I'd been carrying that feeling  for some time and I was just ready to unload it.  In October of 2012, I wrote in my journal

 "I confess my prejudice, my hardened heart, my lack of mercy towards Middle Eastern people...While I have known about this sin in my heart I have allowed it to grow, I've joked about it but I've done nothing to change it.  I've accepted it as something that is ok before you.  But it's not. I pray I would love my neighbor from the Middle East.  I pray to treat them with kindness and respect.  I pray that I would have no issue embracing them.  Lord, I have been wrong and I've dishonored you, your message of love and forgiveness.   Please forgive me Father, I've been wrong, I'm so sorry. " 

That's all that happened.  I just came clean with God and admitted I was wrong for harboring hate towards people he created.  I don't think the final event would have happened if I had not repented of my racism.  The very next entry in my journal after coming clean with God is a moment that I still remember in detail.  I was sitting at an intersection watching traffic pass when my eyes rested on a small car with 3 Middle Eastern women dressed in their religious clothing and head coverings.  As I watched them take a turn in front of me, it was like time slowed down.  A sudden wave of understanding  came together through words and emotions.  'It takes greater strength for these women to continue their practices faithfully in a culture that does not understand or accept or welcome their differences.'  I instantly felt genuine compassion flood my heart.  I realized the courage it takes to live in a hostile culture, to learn and understand all that you need to survive in a foreign society, to adapt in ways that are surprising and unexpected, to remain true to your beliefs no matter the opposition you face.  An understanding of everything these women had to endure burst my heart wide open with sorrow and sympathy.  I've never felt the same towards people from the Middle East since that moment, it was completely overwhelming in a very good and tender way.

I have seen two faces of Racism and neither was good.  Racism is ugly and detestable no matter which side you are looking from.  Racism is never right.  It's never noble.  It's never loving.  It's never admirable.  It is not good or praiseworthy.  Racism is always wrong.  Racism will always be wrong.  Now, what I hate more - is hate.  I see hate everywhere and it saddens me how rampant it is.  Even so, I am unapologetic and unwavering in my view regarding Racism simply because of my own personal experiences. Racism is not a subject I will debate over, my position is firm.  If you want to engage in this conversation with me, please expect a short dialog because it's not one I'll debate.  Racism is Hate. Hate is wrong.  I will not participate.  

As a country we are not there yet, Dr. King.  As individuals though, some of us are making progress.

From Struggle to Surrender

Every aspect of Unify Phx, was intentional to draw women to a place of surrender.  Kristin Pattison, incredibly passionate, spoke about the race we run and how we often get on the circular track that leads no where.  "The track is great...until it isn't".  However, there is a path that has been paved just for us by God.  We need to be on that path and then she said words I needed to hear, "Live Carefree".  I'd fallen back into a familiar pattern; don't make a mistake, don't be embarrassing, don't be so emotional.  When Kristin spoke those words, clarity and conviction washed over me. I know what walking in Freedom looks and feels like, how did I fall back into caring so much about what others might think or say of me? Walking in freedom is like being in a recovery program, you gotta work the steps or you'll relapse. And I had relapsed.

Later we were afforded an opportunity to write something we wanted to surrender.  I wrote "My pride.  So I can I walk in absolute Freedom."  I stepped forward and hung that on the cross with a fresh resolve to walk in Freedom.   Getting back on the path paved for me.

The next morning as I dressed and prepared for the conference. I wore a tie die shirt with leopard print shoes telling myself ' I am not going to care that this does not match. These shoes are comfortable and these are the shoes I want to wear today.'  At the conference, I sang out every song during the worship set, not caring if my voice was off pitch.  I was back on the path of freedom paved just for me.

 

That morning, Cherie Wagner, a truly gifted teacher nailed home points about divisions in the body of the church.  She shared how important and critical unity is among this body of people.  Her message resonated deeply and stirred a fire in me to break down barriers, to be united, to stand as one with others.  I was inspired to be part of bringing people together in Unity. 

As the conference came to a close, we once again sang a beautiful song, Unify, by worship leader and songwriter Dianne Michelle who crafted this amazing song for this conference.  As we sang the first verse, I was inspired to move towards the front row of women and grab the ladies hands on each side of the aisle and stand together, united as one.  But Pride taunted "What will they think?  What if no one follows you?  It'll be awkward.  Don't do it."  I stayed where I was, glued to the ground as we began to sing the chorus.

The next verse came and I wanted to break down barriers,  be united, stand as one with the women around me but the pride of fear stopped me.  I looked behind me, quickly scanning for a familiar face. Maybe if we made eye contact, they would follow my cue.  No one I knew was behind me.  We started the last chorus and a gentle whisper came, "Pride was hung on the cross Friday night."  I was quietly reminded of my actions on Friday night.  I was standing in a tie die shirt with leopard print shoes and singing about unity in a roomful of women spiritually united but physically divided.

I abruptly grabbed the ladies hand on my left, she was surprised but I didn't let that stop me. Like a train I pulled her with me to the other side of the aisle and grabbed the hand of another surprised lady and I stood in the middle of the aisle.  No barriers, united, standing as one, we raised our hands and I sang that last chorus like I meant it.  If anyone had looked closely they would have seen my legs trembling.  When the song ended, I hugged both those ladies for standing with me but I could tell, they felt the unity too, just like I did and they hugged me back.  The lady from across the aisle whispered in my ear "Thank you." 

Days later,  I saw this picture and I cried over it.  I had no idea the row behind me joined hands and stood together too.  I thought I was alone in that aisle standing for unity but I wasn't.  That's what makes me cry whenever I see this picture. Poignantly captured in this picture is a moment that represents the absence of pride and the presence of Freedom through Unity.  So when the next Unify Phx takes place, let's go together, as One.

From Struggle to Surrender,

Julia

From Fear to Faith

"There's a women's conference in October, would you pray about being a part of it?"

When God puts an opportunity or challenge in front of me, I am like a deer staring into bright headlights.  I freeze and wait because I'm quietly afraid of what is going to happen next.

I am not a Joshua charging for battle.

I am a Gideon, hiding and threshing wheat, in a winepress.

God, I'm from a weak family and I'm to weak a person to do this task.  Can you confirm that you really want me,  show me a sign maybe?

Phone rings. "We thought you would be a good fit to facilitate the panel at Unify Phx but we'd like you to actually be a part of the panel."

God, I'm not a public speaker.  I shake, I get nervous, I get emotional.  Then I'm embarrassed.  I wish I could erase those embarrassing moments.  Are you sure God?

Phone rings.  Hello daughter, it's your Dad.  Unbeknownst to either of us, we are gonna to have a conversation where I am going to reverse the message of shame I planted in you so many years ago.  I'm going to tell you that your soft heart is a good thing and don't ever change it.  You'll hang up the phone sobbing and then marvel that this call occurred exactly THREE days before you sit on stage at the conference.

God, I barely know any of the people running this conference, who am I to stand among them?

Email received.  Can you come to a meeting for the lead team?  You'll meet everyone running this conference.  You'll  find you are among women who are like-minded and as sensitive as you.  You won't feel like a stranger in a strange land.  

Okay God.  Messages received.  Help me to do what I'm afraid of doing.

On Saturday at Unify Phx, Christina Lang said "When God knows you are ready, he entrusts you with the next part of the story."

I didn't feel ready but everything that happened Friday at the conference prepared me not to just sit as part of the panel but to also stand in Unity as One.

From Fear to Faith,

Julia

From a Shirt to a Stage.

This weekend I participated in Unify Phx; a conference that brought together women from over 40 different churches across Phoenix. The theme of the conference was to reflect Unity among the people of Christ; the Church. This conference was not for a religious organization or a set denomination or a certain culture or any of those types of variables. It was for 2 groups of people; those who follow Christ and those who don't and both were present.

My friend Christin, called me out of the azure-blue and asked if I would be willing to participate. Christin and I met through Mending the Soul and she suggested my name to the lead team for this conference. A different gal, Erica, supported the idea because she was also in one of my Mending the Soul classes. That's how I got involved; 2 nearly new friends, from 2 different churches connected through 2 different MTS classes. Different people, different backgrounds, coming together to share what we have in common. Pretty much the premise of the conference.

Shirt By: Radiance on Fire

The conference began on a Friday night and as I moved about the building, helping to set up before the doors opened, I kept passing a vendor table that had this shirt on display. I walked by this table at least 20 times. Each time I passed that shirt and read the message, my eyes filled with tears and I would almost lose it. Somehow, I kept myself in check but literally every single time I'd walk by, my eyes were drawn to that shirt and message.

Worthless. For so many years, Worthless is exactly who I was. It was my name and my label. I was Worthless to my family, worthless in school, worthless in every job and worthless in every relationship. I was worthless in every interaction, every encounter, every meeting. Worthless permeated my every thought, every emotion, every action. I couldn't get away from being Worthless.

Then Jesus happened. Jesus drew a line through Worthless and wrote Priceless. Over time, I began to understand He changed my name and my label long before I was ever aware of it. He convinced me Worthless was never who I was to begin with. My testimony was on a shirt and I could barely handle it.

The following day, I sat on the stage, with nerves like spaghetti. I wished I had the shirt I had just walked by again. I would have worn it on stage, pointed to the message and said "This is it, this is my story. Love you, mean it, peace out." Drop the mic.

Brene Brown wrote in Daring Greatly, "Sometimes the bravest and most important thing you can do is just show up." I didn't feel brave, I felt shaky and sweaty but I showed up alongside 4 other women and together, we owned our stories. Together, we allowed ourselves to be seen and known. Together, we showed courage through vulnerability. Together we stood as One. I don't think I could have done it any other way. One thing for certain, the deep bond the 5 of us experienced will be remembered for a lifetime.

There's this myth that life becomes stagnant and stifling when you commit to Christ. I have found nothing to be further from the truth. What I did last weekend was the equivalent to riding white water rapids down a roaring river. It was crazy and scary and intense. It was also fulfilling and satisfying to allow God to take my ashes and use them for a good purpose.

That said, I'm ready for a paddle board and maybe a lazy river, ya know? There is another story to tell from this conference but I'll share another day.

From a shirt to a stage,
Julia

Unify Phoenix Women's Conference, Oct 21-22

Tonight, I met with a group of 4 women in preparation for a women’s conference taking place in Phoenix next month. We come from 4 different churches in the area & in preparing for this panel, we shared our stories. The idea is afterwards, women will break into smaller groups and share their own stories with each other. I was incredibly moved by the personal depth that was shared by each woman. We talked about real life, real pain, real tragedies. There was no masking, no covering up, no hiding behind shiny smiles. Each person brought her darkest and worst into the light. Timidly and carefully though. These were not badges of honor or stories of valor being shared. These were stories filled with deep pain, much shame and the kind of despair that changes the course of life. Then how God has restored, redeemed and renewed our lives. That part is super easy for me to talk about.

I drove away completely humbled. Is there another word that bypasses humbled because that is how I felt. I was asked the question “How is God using your story today?” My honest answer was “I see that it serves a purpose with the Mending the Soul groups at my church but I really don’t know, I don’t have any idea, mainly because I feel totally awkward when I’m sharing my story.” Then she told me to go first and she was going to video tape it. Cue Awkward Self.

I don’t even know how I was sitting in that room sharing my story with these women. I didn’t seek this out. What I do know & what has become crystal clear to me, is that it keeps happening. Sharing my story. And every single time, I feel totally and completely awkward. Afterwards, I mentally grade myself and try to measure “was I off the chart awkward? Or was I just minimally awkward?” Greg says I have to stop doing this and just let God use whatever words come from me and leave it to God. I think Greg is right. So I think the right thing to do is to just tell everyone I know about my social-story-telling-awkwardness as a means to bringing it all out in the light. If everyone knows, then there is no secret about my Awkward Self and I can be free to be awkward.

DoTK,
Julia

Unify PHX from Neue Thing on Vimeo.

Psalm of Julia

Thank you God that I am no longer who I used to be.
Thank you God that I am not who others said I was.
Thank you God that I was not left alone & forgotten.

Thank you God that you restored my heart and made it whole.
Thank you God for a life that is worth living.
Thank you God for more goodness than I ever deserved.
Thank you God.

Young DoTK Leads.

I just received this picture last night and my heart swooned over this precious little cutie patootie!  This young DoTK is wearing one of the first tshirt designs for girls from the DoTK tshirts.

I know this cutie personally and one of the things I absolutely love in her young personality is that she's already secure in who she is - pure DoTK.  She can say 'No thank you' without second guessing herself and continue walking without looking back.  I LOVE that about her personality and pray it never changes.

How about us grown women get a good dose of that and walk with some of that kind confidence?  How about we let our 'No' be No, our 'Yes' be Yes and maybe, just maybe we practice 'Let me think about it' when its appropriate.
This sweet little girl is leading the charge and if she can do it, we can too. 

DoTK,
Julia

Messages in the Messes.

 

"It's like the game Jenga but with dishes."

This is the picture and caption I posted on my feed.  To be fair, I had a number of those pots and pans already in the dish drainer but I had more to wash so I just kept stacking the dishes, instead of putting the dry ones away. 

Like many women, I spend a lot of time standing at that sink either  loading the dishwasher or hand washing what doesn't get loaded.  I am the chief dish washer in my house.  And to be very honest, I resent it most every day.  This is not intended for shock value...I don't enjoy and love washing dishes. I'm not giddy every time I see dirty dishes laughing at me, mocking my free time.  When I'm washing dishes I'd rather be doing anything else. Except cleaning a bathroom.  I would not rather be cleaning a bathroom.  

All that said, I'm aware there is another way I could look at the daily oppression of washing dishes. When I was in high school I lived a couple of years with a family who provided a home for me. My job in their house was Washing Dishes, it's how I earned my keep. (If they had only known, my real talent is organizing closets, tsk tsk such a shame!)  I'm acutely aware that my perspective can be easily skewed by the past. Or hormones.  Or the snack I ate at 10 PM.  So I consistently pray God will help me to see things from his perspective instead of my own and this morning, a God glimpse came.

I stood in my son's room and stared at the Legos, all-over-everywhere, resisting the urge to immediately organize pieces by size and color.  Does this picture look familiar?  Perhaps you also have offspring that is comfortable in this type of chaos and mayhem. 

As I stared at this mess, a message emerged; this is his creative space.  Just the day before, I had tested him by giving him 45 seconds to run to his room to get a specific minifigure.  Two different times, with plenty of seconds to spare, he knew exactly where Ultron and Deadpool were located.  It's certainly a mess but the message is; he has a place to create and build and imagine.  That is a good thing.

  

"What is the message in the sink full of dirty dishes?"  Simply, we get to eat. Actually, we get to eat from a bountiful harvest, that we had very little to do with. Can I sidebar and mention how much respect I have for our Farmers? Utmost respect.

Sometimes, our trash cans are overflowing with the discarded food packages after preparing a meal.  I want to come unglued when our trash cans look like this. CanS-plural. We have two trash cans and they both looked like this on the same day...deep breath. The message remains the same.  We get to cook and feed our family.  Sometime we get to cook and feed our friends!  What a privilege and joy!  

My challenge to myself and for others is to continue looking for a message in the messes as we move through our days. 

^"16 “But blessed are your eyes, because they see; and your ears, because they hear. ¹⁷ I tell you the truth, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see, but they didn’t see it. And they longed to hear what you hear, but they didn’t hear it." Matthew 13:16-17

DoTK,
Julia Hull

Get some rest. Take a nap.

As I studied Mark 4 one morning and read about Jesus calming the storm, a familiar story took a turn.

To summarize, Jesus had been pouring into a crowd of people all day. When evening came, it was time to retreat, it was time to go. As they traveled across the the Sea of Galilee, they were suddenly caught in a storm and Jesus slept.

You ever have those days/weeks/months where you have poured and poured into other people? Your family, extended family, friends, people in crisis, whoever it may be. You look back and find that you have been pouring yourself out, meeting needs, satisfying expectations, rising to the challenges of all the people around you and you haven't taken a break?

Jesus did this the entire time he walked in the flesh. He walked a lot; meeting people, talking to them, pouring love into them. Challenging them, demonstrating all the fruits, modeling the example to follow for every generation to come. What kind of experience could it be to have all the power of God but to be limited by physical needs? To find he was thirsty or hungry or in need of a nap??

There in that boat on the Sea of Galilee, after a full day of pouring into people, Jesus needed a nap. He knew that storm was coming and he still took that nap. And when he was jarred awake, he stood and spoke to the storm; with power and authority, he spoke to the storm.

I don't think the two events are a coincidence. We have to rest. We can pour and pour and pour ourselves out for those around us but we must rest. Because a storm is inevitable. Storms are a natural order of life but if we haven't taken time to rest...what energy will we have to face the next storm? What reserve will we draw from to speak to the storm with any sense of authority? If we haven't taken a moment to rest?

I have to show you this picture of this funny little one who finally passed out in a semi-upright position. We laugh at this but this is exactly what we do and what we look like as adults. This is us. We just keep going and going and going until this happens...

Jesus says "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest."

So what is the truth for today? It's ok to take rest. To pause life, take a nap. Resting is as much a part of our battle strategy as physical training. Let's not feel unnecessary guilt for taking some time for our own well-being.

Daughter of The King,

Julia

DoTK = Daughter of The King

The picture above is from the very first event I set up a booth at for DoTK.  My friend, Randi, volunteered to help me out that day and can I just say THANIK GOD for good friends?! There was no way I would have ever been able to put up that white canopy by myself. Ever.

When the Daughter of The King concept first came to me, it began as a single design with a crown and the letters DoTK.  I wanted it to be a subtle design that would invite the question 'What does DoTK stand for?'  Speaking truth can be so powerful and when we answer, 'It means Daughter of The King." we are claiming This is who I Am. There is so much that opposes the truth of who we are in Christ and God is not honored when we identify ourselves as anything less than His. 

For much to long, I identified with being unworthy, inadequate, unlovable. In fact, I repeated the phrase 'I'm a miserable failure.' so much that my fed up husband totally lost his cool one day and told me I was no longer allowed to even speak those words anymore.  I was completely taken aback at his outburst because I was totally unaware that I said it that much.

God is glorified when we speak about who we are in Him and when we announce "I Am a Daughter of the King." we are claiming our identity in Christ.  What could be more powerful than that? So this little logo was created as a means to encourage girls and women to begin seeing themselves as God does. That is the sole purpose behind DoTK.

Something I love is that one of my very first customers was this precious girl pictured below. I love that this girl was totally at ease in her own skin and completely confident with her quirky style.  She was totally rocking the DoTK spirit and I just loved it.

It was 1994 and if I could do it again - I wouldn't.

Photo circa early 90's

It was 1994 and I legally changed my name.  Its a shame A Series of Unfortunate Events was already written because this could easily be my book title and this particular subject would be part of the story.

What made me reflect back on this?

First, have you heard the analogy that 'men are like waffles, women are like spaghetti'?  Men's thoughts are very compartmentalized like waffles, there's a box for each subject.  Women's thoughts are more like spaghetti freely flowing from one thought to another yet all inter-connected.  It's the best way to explain what made me think of this event in the first place. So I'm serving up some Spaghetti, follow along, if you can:

• In my morning study time, I scribbled the following note in my bible study :

"This is such a healing word for the child in us who wasn't loved.  It explains that Jesus loved us all along despite what happened to us.  It hurt His heart even more than ours because He knew the bigger picture and the long term effects of our abuse what happened to us." (Reference Matthew 18:1-10)

As I wrote this, I immediately crossed out the words "our abuse" because it inferred something that no longer 'fit' me - like an over sized coat.  I really don't see myself as defined by the abuse I experienced anymore.  It's just what happened in my life but its not who I am.  But that wasn't always my story...Parmesan with your Spaghetti?

• My thoughts traveled to a time when my identity was the sum of all my bad experiences.  Experiences from the hands of others as well as those that were self inflicted. I didn't like my past and I didn't like my present. If a person could swim in self-loathing, then I was literally drowning in it. Then I did something so...bizarre.  I can't think of a better word.  I legally changed my name.  Legally changed from Myra Jane Davidson to Julia Dianne.  Julia was my new first name. Dianne was my new last name. No middle name.  More Spaghetti please. 

• As I continued to reflect on the past, I wondered 'exactly what year was that?'  It seemed sooo long ago and I'm sooo old now, haha!  I shuffled through a file cabinet looking for a file with "Name Change" scrawled at the top.  Found it.  Held the official document and looked at the date; November 3, 1994. Realization struck......20 years ago...TWENTY YEARS!  A lifetime ago...

 

• I had to share the moment with my BFF who would fully understand the impact of such a moment.  A snapshot  of our conversation:

• How about a dash of Crazy with that Meat Sauce?  This part is even crazier.  I don't know where I got the...kahunas (can I say that?) but I handled this legal proceeding myself. I researched "legal name change" at the library, typed up the legal forms, filed the paperwork at the courthouse and represented myself on my court date. No attorney present, just me, standing in front of a judge in a court room full of people. Who did I think I was?! I honestly laugh at the absurdity of it all when I think about it!

• If I could go back and do it again - I wouldn't.  I didn't know it at the time but changing my name only created more chaos, some of which is still felt today. It depends on who I'm spending time with and the name they call me by- I cringe at the 'teachable moment' coming up one day with my son. Spaghetti heartburn anyone? Ugh.

• As my thoughts returned to the present, I was humbled at the thought that over time my identity did change but it had nothing to do with my name.  Instead, it had everything to do with discovering Jesus and letting his Truth heal all the hurts and regrets of my past.  Consequently, as his Truth was applied to who I am as a person,  I was transformed by a renewing in my mind and it set me free in a way I had been searching for all along.

"Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."

John 8:32

Now was that some bowl of spaghetti or what?! : )

Signed,
(in order of appearance)
Myra Jane JD Julia Dianne Davidson Hull

Breaking Free Cliff Notes.

Living in Freedom is a hefty subject, but it's worth the time. I have found it is the most life changing, greatest impacting endeavors I have ever poured myself into.

In my previous post, Stepping into the Arena, I mentioned that I first picked up the 'Breaking Free' workbook by Beth Moore in 1999.  I emphasize Workbook because the 'Breaking Free' book by Beth Moore wasn't published until 2007.  As with many things, when something is successful, reiterations of that successful work will soon be found.

In 1999, I picked up the Breaking Free workbook and I read each word, answered every question, filled in every blank, checked all the boxes, drew the pictures, read every scripture, watched all the video sessions.  I studied that material.  It was like living water to a dry and parched soul. The truth is, I never stopped doing the study and as a result it changed me.  This is a picture of my workbooks.  I would write multiple times in each workbook, responses varying from season to season. I would fill the pages with my notes and I would need a new workbook for the next time.  I'm currently doing it again, the updated edition on the right, which is what prompted this Daring Greatly moment.

The Breaking Free study course-corrected more than my life, it course-corrected my mind.  I was literally "transformed by the renewing of my mind."  What I learned then and continue to study today is quite literally "the truth that set me free."  Cliche? Yes.  But this is a true story.

Perhaps this all sounds like religious mysticism.  To lofty, a little wacky, 'out there'.  I get it and that is probably why I am so grateful that I have had someone walking beside me and watching me as a "new creation" evolve over all these years. No one knows this is a true story better than my husband.  God. Bless. Him.  Seriously.

In Part 2, I'm going to outline some fundamental facts, key truths, that I have learned and have been studying from Breaking Free during all these years.

Living with genuine, authentic freedom - emotionally, mentally, spiritually- is unparallelled to anything I know or have experienced.  The catch is, you have to step into the arena. You have to fight a battle for it.  You have to work hard for it.

I know from raw, personal experience - it's totally worth the work. 

Julia

"If I testify on my own behalf, my testimony is valid, for I know where I came from and where I am going." John 8:14

My adult family portrait.

Back in August, I shared 'My Personal Testimony of Jesus Christ' and one of the things I wrote was:

"I can say without a shadow of a doubt, that the power of Jesus Christ has moved in my life in ways I never could have imagined."

I wrote that statement in the past tense but the reality is, God continues to move in ways I can't possibly imagine. It is humbling to try and explain the mysterious ways that I see God work at times. What I experienced this Thanksgiving holiday is no exception.  It was "more than all I could ask or imagine".  Why?  Because, as long as I can remember or know of, I've never spent a Thanksgiving holiday with both my mom and my dad - until this year.

Not unlike a lot of people, I don't have a memory bank full of memories with both my parents. No memories of Christmas', birthdays, special events, etc.  The handful of memories that I do have, fall in an entirely different category. However, this Thanksgiving holiday, both my parents traveled from their respective states to spend Thanksgiving in Arizona. I found myself making coffee for both my parents. I could hear both my parents talking at the table.  I would look up from what I was doing and see both my parents sitting in the room.  It was surreal.  Totally surreal.

One morning, as the 3 of us sat at the kitchen table, I shared a scripture that came to my mind that morning as I marveled at how God brought this special event together. Joel 2:25:

"I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten"

They understood the verse and agreed. I shared my heart and told them why this time was so special for me. We each shared our hearts through tear filled eyes and together we shared God's sweet goodness. Then we prayed together.  Tears fill my eyes, even now, as I think about it.  Such a priceless gift of which I could never have even imagined.  

It gets better. ;)  All of my life, I've been missing something.  Something simple.  Just a picture - with me, my mom and my dad.   It's a picture I've never had. A picture that's been missing all my life. While my parents were here, my friend Lindsi Rian captured the picture I've been waiting 41 years to take. 

At this point, I'm just at a loss for words.  This is where my emotions get the best of me and I'm just overwhelmed by God's enormity and His tender love for me.  He knows me.  He knows my heart.  He knows about the constant longing for family that fills my heart.  And this Thanksgiving, He gave me the most Amazing Gift that Grace could give.. My family. 

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." Ephesians 3:20

My Personal Testimony of Jesus Christ.

I've been studying the life & ministry of the Apostle Paul. A person, like me. He made mistakes, just like me. He was bold and had courage. Not like me. Not at all. 

This morning, I was blindsided by the simplicity of what Paul did. He told people his Damascus Road experience. That was it. He just told his story. Over & over. Some wanted to hear his story & believed him. Others didn't. He was whipped 5 times, beaten with rods 3 times, stoned with rocks and left for dead.  At the end of the day though, Paul's story was his story. It didn't change.

This is my personal testimony of Jesus Christ.

My hands are shaking. Tears are in my eyes. Where is my courage?  I'm challenged by Paul's example but I'm such a coward. Behind this keyboard is the only courage I can muster.

This is my personal testimony of Jesus Christ.

As a child, my parents were not a consistent presence in my life. They were just not capable of taking care of me at times and for that reason I was left to live with other people. My childhood was so unstable that by the time I turned 18, I had lived in 13 different homes. Not one of those environments was a healthy functioning household and I experienced nearly every type of abuse that exists.

As a child, I believed in God, in Jesus. On the night of my 12^th birthday, I prayed with a child-like faith a very sincere prayer. “Please let me die tonight, God. I don't want to live anymore. Please don't let me wake up tomorrow.”

I was so disappointed in God's unanswered prayer, I vowed I would no longer follow a God that would not help me. So for the next 10 years, I became my own primary abuser in every way.

When I was 23, the road I had been running on came to a dead-end.

It was at that time, I experienced God's love. God's forgiveness. God's mercy.

God's love for me simply could not answer the earnest prayer of my 12 yr old self.

God's forgiveness covered the multitude of sins from the former 10 years of my life.

God's mercy was new every morning, as I fumbled through following him for the next 18 years.

I have embraced that Jesus Christ died to set me free.

I can say without a shadow of a doubt, that the power of Jesus Christ has moved in my life in ways I never could have imagined.

I know, that I know, my mind has been renewed and I really am a new creation only because of the power of Jesus Christ in my life.

I have loved Jesus for some time now and I've learned so much from this relationship. I often, Often! stumble but I'm never condemned for it. Instead, my savior encourages me to stand up, try again. He gently reminds me, I'm not alone, he is with me. He is for me. Always and forever.  

And I find a tiny bit of courage to do as he prompts me - today its behind a keyboard.

That is my personal testimony of Jesus Christ.

Signed,

Myra Jane Julia Dianne Davidson Hull