The Story of the Isabels

It's national cat day again. According to Facebook's reminders of my posts from a year ago, 2 years ago, etc., a year ago on this day I showed a picture of my cat Isabel and said someday I would blog about why she is named that. Well, that day has come. With all the serious and depressing stuff going on in this election year, I thought a lighter, somewhat whimsical post might be in order.

Jennifer and Tom

In the mid-eighties when my kids were, well, kids, we were visited by a gray tabby cat quite frequently. She was a sweet cat, but somewhat skittish around people. My children loved animals, though, and she warmed up to them eventually. They named her--you guessed it-- Isabel. I think the name was from a character on a cartoon they liked to watch, but I'm not certain.  

Isabel made herself at home in our carport. In fact, one day we discovered she had a litter of kittens there. Five kittens, to be exact.  The kids were ecstatic to discover this and started in with pleas of "can we keep them?"  At first we said no, but with time they wore us down and we kept two of them: a gray tabby they named Tom and a orange tabby named Tiger. 

I'm foggy on what happened to Isabel;  I think she disappeared one day and we never saw her again. We still had 2 kittens, though. Then one day we found Tom in the street where he had been run over. We were heartbroken; we all cried over Tom and I started letting Tiger come inside more to keep him safer. My husband wouldn't let him stay in all the time until he got in the fan of the car and almost died. Then he became an indoor/outdoor cat.

But I digress. This story is about the Isabels in our lives.

Isabel II and Tiger

In 1986, we sold that house and moved temporarily into a duplex while we looked for another house. We managed to get Tiger to move with us, even though everyone always said you can't move a cat; they will always go back to their old territory. 

Enter Isabel II. Yes, Tiger started hanging out with a gray cat who looked a lot like the original Isabel, even though we knew it wasn't her. So of course they named this gray cat Isabel II. 

This Isabel also had kittens on our carport, and then promptly got herself killed when they were only about 2 weeks old. I know, right? This is why I do not condone indoor/outdoor cats anymore except maybe in the country. Too many cars.

Tiger

We moved to the country and took Tiger with us. He was such a good, sweet cat. Tiger was the best cat we have ever had (shh...don't tell Izzy). He was an indoor/outdoor country cat for the rest of his days. We moved him twice and he chose to stay with us. He would jump right up into my arms when he wanted to be held. I've never had another cat do that.

Years went by, during which Tiger passed away. The kids grew up and Jeremy, then Jennifer, went away to college. I went through a divorce in the late 90s and then in 2000, Jeff left for college and I was alone. Really alone, for the first time in my life. I did not handle it well. I went through major depression, a condition it took years to overcome. 

I was encouraged to get a cat to keep me company. So I adopted a black and white cat which turned out to be possessed.  She was downright mean. She didn't like anyone but me, and she even bit me sometimes just out of the blue. I didn't know what to do about her. She actually made my lonely, depressed existence worse.

Christmas 2005 rolled around, and the kids were coming home for Christmas. My daughter, Jennifer, called and said she and her husband were just getting in to town and would be at my house in about 10 minutes, and would I please lock the demon cat up in my bedroom?  (I won't even bother telling her name. Everyone called her the Demon Cat). This was a reasonable request, so I did. I was used to no one liking my cat.

Jennifer came in carrying a little bitty calico kitten that she had adopted from the humane society in the town where she lived. We talked, and it was decided I had to take the mean cat to the humane society the next day.  It was hard to do, but Jeff was home for Christmas and he went with me. I cried, oh boy, did I cry. I figured it was a death sentence for her, and I didn't want that even though she was almost feral and even bit me. But I did. If they weren't able to adopt her out, I reasoned, at least she was put down humanely.

Isabel III in Dec 2005

So....a new cat entered my life on Christmas 2005, a tiny squeakbox that could barely meow. Jennifer introduced her to me as Isabel III. I'm not sure why; she is not gray like the first 2. I think it was in memory of those 2 sweet, gentle cats and in hopes that she would be a sweet cat, too. 

She has turned out to be a good cat. Eleven years later, Isabel, nicknamed Izzy, is still my roommate. She is a sweet cat who used to spend her days on various window seats, curious about the cats outside and the squirrels in the yard. These days, though, she shows little interest in the goings on outside and prefers to sleep in a patch of sunlight in the laundry room or curled up at my feet. She follows me around like a puppy, and is great company. In the mornings, after I have gone to the bathroom she loudly protests if I don't immediately put food in her dish. She has some arthritis and has trouble jumping up on things, so she mostly stays on the floor, or occasionally on the couch with me if I have a blanket. 

Side note: The Blanket of Incentive is what Jeff started calling a soft, fuzzy blanket that I got for Christmas one year. Every time I settled in with my blanket and a book or a movie here came Izzy. The blanket was soft and inviting and she could never resist it. So after a while, if I wanted her to come sit with me all I had to do is get out the Blanket of Incentive and she would come running. That's the story of the Blanket of Incentive, which is bonus. You get that one for free. It goes hand in hand with the story of Izzy so it had to be explained.

Isabel III today

She is the last in the line of Isabels. The first 2 never really adopted our family and didn't stay around long, but this one came to stay. I hope she has several more years left; she is not getting around very well these days.

Izzy is spoiled rotten, and she is getting up in years. She is a sweet cat like the first 2 and deserving of the name she was given. 

And that's the story of the Isabels.

How to Get Through Tough Times

This post may seem scattered, but it's burning in my heart and has to get out.

I've been camping in the Psalms for a while now. Over the years, I've found that I tend to do this when times are tough. And frankly, times are tough right now.

I have not said anything because I'm not the only one hurting. I didn't feel like I had the right to complain. It's not complaining, really, though; it's just being honest. My heart is broken, and I can't be silent anymore.

Oh, I've been crying out to the Lord. I know He hears and cares. But then I remembered that sometimes...not always, but sometimes, I am supposed to share my pain and the remedy for that pain.

I forget that sometimes.

Yes, I get caught up in appearing to brave and strong. We all do that, don't we? We need to come across like we've got it all together. That's what we're expected to do, right?

No, not exactly. God jogged my memory while I was sitting in church tonight. (Don't worry, He did not jog me too hard....)

So I'm admitting that life has been hard lately and I can't do it alone. And I also admit that I have to share my struggles and how I get through them, because that's part of the reason God allows me to write this blog.

I am reminded again and again, that whatever I'm facing;

whether it's

.....the death of a beloved family member....

.....financial struggles....

.....or sickness....

Or all of the above at the same time...
There is a SOLUTION. There is only one way to get through the storms of life. It's exactly opposite of what you would think you would need to do, logically, but here it is:

I praise the Lord. No matter how I feel, In everything I give thanks. GOD HAS NEVER AND WILL NEVER FAIL ME.

"I will bless the Lord at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth.
My soul will make its boast in the Lord; The humble will hear it and rejoice. O magnify the Lord with me, And let us exalt His name together.

I sought the Lord, and He answered me, And delivered me from all my fears. They looked to Him and were radiant, And their faces will never be ashamed.

This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him And saved him out of all his troubles. The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him,
And rescues them...

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted And saves those who are crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, But the Lord delivers him out of them all" (taken from Psalm 34, NASB).

The Lord is good, and He has never and will never fail me. I have His word on it.

Be blessed, friends. <3

Are the Crickets Chirping?

Tonight, I find myself meditating on Psalm 40, verses 1-3:

"I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry." 

Really? You might be thinking that you seem to still be stuck and nothing seems to have changed when you cried out to the Lord.

Basically, it's crickets chirping. 

If you don't get that, I'm sorry. Truly. 

Well, the reasons for His silence are numerous, and none of us knows the mind of God and can figure out the exact plans He has for us. When we cry out to God, we don't understand why He doesn't drop everything and deliver us from the mess we're in. Does He not care about our dilemma?

Yes. Yes, He does. It's entirely possible that it's because He cares that He seems to delay so long to rescue us. I believe that while He does forgive our sins immediately when we ask Him to, sometimes the circumstances in which we find ourselves don't change right away. 

Maybe He is taking time to set up the new place in life where He wants us.

Perhaps He wants us to get closer to Him and He uses our painful situation to refine us a little.

Quite possibly, if we had exactly what we want when we think we need it, we would destroy ourselves. 

Don't say it can't happen. We do that, you know. All the time. At least, I know I have. Years ago, my life was a complete shambles and at times didn't think I would make it.  

If we take matters into our own hands instead of waiting for God to work out and orchestrate the details of our lives, eventually we can find ourselves in a real mess. We have to learn to wait on His timing, His plan, His way. He really does know what's best for us. 

After a while, when we wait on Him, we find ourselves saying

"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."

Wow! One day, we look around us and find ourselves out of the pit we were in. How did we get here? Without really knowing the details of how it happened, when we wait on God and continue to climb and follow where He leads we find ourselves proclaiming

"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."

When we give ourselves fully to God's ways and plans, He will bring us out and our lives will become a testimony to His goodness, grace, and mercy.

This may or may not be the most encouraging post I have ever written, but I believe it's truth. Sometimes the truth hurts, but it also heals.

So, be blessed. God loves you and wants you to be all that He created you to be. Let Him lead and you won't be sorry.

That's all tonight, folks. 

Restoration!

Someone told me a few weeks ago that they had no idea I had ever been depressed. They have only known me a few years, and it was surprising to them to learn about what I have been through.  It encourages me to hear that, because it's a testimony to the amazing work God has done and is still doing in me. I never want anyone to think I take credit for turning my life around. God gets all the glory for that! If not for Him and His miraculous hand in my life, I have no doubt I would not have made it.

Spiritually, the depression I was in made me feel like I was wandering in the wilderness, and everything was shrouded in fog. I couldn't see which way to go, and I ended up clinging to the people who tried to help me out of kindness and love. I needed to know I was loved and accepted so badly. I was desperate for it.

One of the most painful parts of the wilderness was the way that the songs I listened to and loved during that time became associated with pain. Maybe this doesn't happen to you; I hope not. But so much of the way God speaks to me and ministers to me is through music.

For several years before, during, and following my divorce in 1997, I wandered. I had accepted Jesus, and was following Him but I didn't really know how to accept the healing He wanted to give me. There was a lot of rejection and loneliness in those days, and my solace was music. Friends gave me CDs and I would listen to them over and over.

A lot of negative stuff happened during these years, including drama involving people, churches, and even some family members. Some of it was real rejection, and some was only perceived to be rejection because of the tormenting pain in my heart that distorted the truth. In 2003 I hit rock bottom and God finally had my full attention--because He was all I had left. This was one of the best things that could have happened, though I thought it was going to kill me at the time. I did not want to be in this pain, and I fought it. I finally took the hand He had been offering me for so many years, though, and let Him pull me up out of the pit I was in emotionally.

The healing started that year, but because my emotions were such a wreck, or the depression so deep--who knows?--it took a while for God to bring me out of all that. Slowly, I started to change from the inside out, but I still had a ways to go.

The music? Oh, I'm getting there. In the years following the wilderness time, I discovered that when I heard any of that music from those years I would be repulsed by it. Sometimes I would even have physical pain, like a knife in my stomach. It was such a powerful reminder of those horrible years. You see, it wasn't just me that was being hurt while I was in the wilderness. I did my share of hurling damaging words at people I loved, and it broke my heart that I had wounded the ones I loved the most. I quit writing for a long time because I had used my gift of writing to hurt others, even though that wasn't my intention at the time.

Over time, the music I had listened to became synonymous with pain. Music God intended to be healing and soothing became a painful reminder of where I had been, whom I had hurt, and the shame I bore because of it.

Years went by; I gained victory over some things but not others and went through some ups and downs. Then God started some purifying in me - known in Christian circles as a refining fire - beginning in early 2011 and again I was broken-hearted. Unlike the time before, though, I knew what He was doing and why. So even though I was broken, and it was painful, I embraced it. I knew it had to be this way, that He was ready to deliver me from the bondage and chains of depression, rejection, and need for affirmation from others. I wanted God to heal me and I gave myself over to Him willingly. At this point, I finally started going for counseling.

Let me just say right here that there is no shame in getting counseling if you need it. Christians can have depression, anxiety, and a lot of other problems that sometimes require counseling to work through. I sought out Christian counselors who both counseled and prayed with me. If you need counseling, I strongly urge you to get it.

Finally, I had a major breakthrough in 2012, and soon after became aware that things were different. I felt different, my outlook was different, my relationships were different. I realized that I was not the same person as I had been. I had come to know Jesus in a much deeper way, and I realized that my identity was in Him. He was the Lord of my life and He supplied my every need. Affirmation came from Him and His word. It was amazing when I finally grasped that.

But even though I was walking free from those chains, the music I had loved still hurt. I decided that maybe I would always have to avoid those artists and songs from that era, but at least I was free. But God had another plan.

The music came back to me in an unusual way. One of the most enjoyable things I have done in the last year is reorganize photo albums from way before my time through my high school graduation. As I blogged in another post, major chains fell off spiritually during this process:

<http://debbiev120.blogspot.com/2016/07/perception-problems.html> 

As I said in that other post, not only did God redeem my past in photos, I was led to listen to all the old, painful music. Gospel music from my teen years came back first. I found myself singing a song from long ago and would have to find it and listen to it. Then, one day out of the blue, the music from the painful wilderness years was finally given back to me. All while I was working on the photos. He gave me back the music I had loved, because He delights in me. 

Today, I can truly say that God has restored what the locusts had eaten. I'm still a work in progress, but I can listen to all that great music again! The root of rejection has been removed once and for all. Praise the Lord! It was hard to allow Him to do what He needed to do to heal me and set me free, but SO WORTH IT!

The Lord says, “I will give you back what you lost to the swarming locusts, the hopping locusts, the stripping locusts, and the cutting locusts. It was I who sent this great destroying army against you." Joel 2:25 NLT

https://youtu.be/eqgiNtrRMJU

Perception Problems

I've been going through old photos while listening to old music. Sounds funny, I know, but it's what I have been up to lately.

I've been in a season for the last 8-12 months or so. I can't really remember exactly when I entered this valley I've been in, but it's been at least that long. Maybe a little longer. It's not been a comfortable place to be, which is the case with most valley experiences.

A sadness started to develop in me from dwelling on the fact that all 3 of my children live away from this area. The closest is 3 1/2 hours, and thankfully that is the one who has the grandchildren. The other 2 are nine hours and twelve (or so) hours away by car. I could get there faster by flying, but it's too expensive.

Consequently, I don't see my children often.

So, I was feeling really down, and I sought the Lord for answers. He is the only one who knows why He moved them so far away, after all. So I had questions, and I know He had answers. He just didn't choose to reveal those answers right away. All communication seemed to be one-way--me to Him--although I knew He was right there.

He was just so silent.

I prayed and talked to God every day, and did what I know to do. I prayed for my family and for those He put on my heart. I read my daily Bible reading. I went to church. I had praise and worship music on a good bit of the time.

Meanwhile, I had stopped working on pictures back at the start of this valley when it got too painful, back when I was only working with pictures of my early childhood. Off and on in the last couple of years I have worked on them, more out of a sense of obligation than joy. I am, after all, the family historian by default. My mom, dad, and brother passed away many years ago, so it's up to me. My children are going to inherit all these pictures from our heritage someday, and I want them to know who these people are. Since my parents were terrible at writing on the backs of photos, I had to organize them and write captions to identify people and times.

Slowly, over the course of the last couple of months, I began to have a longing to go through the old pictures again. Simultaneously, I was drawn to Southern Gospel music from my childhood and teen years.

What?!?

It made no sense to me, because I never liked that type of music, even when it was all there was in the Christian music world. I was the rebel that, once I discovered her, listened to Reba Rambo in the 70s in spite of my brother's protests that I would go to hell for listening to Christian rock. He was halfway kidding. I think.

So, I walked away from all that type of music 25 years ago and never looked back. I discovered contemporary Christian and Vineyard worship music in the 90s. It is still my preference, I might add.

But I digress. Back to the longing to work on pictures and listen to old music. I listened to my Pandora playlists and looked up music on YouTube to access the music I wanted to find, all while working on the pictures.  The two seemed to go together.

It was like the train wreck that you can't stop looking at. I didn't want to listen to that old music, but at the same time, I was drawn to it. I didn't think I could handle seeing all those old pictures of my childhood, because it was just a reminder to me of how alone I was. However, day after day when I came in from work, I would drift into the spare room where I had the boxes of pictures and scrap-booking supplies. An hour here and there, and before I knew it I was into the grade school pictures of my childhood.

A funny thing happened as I listened to old music and looked at old pictures. God was healing me from the inside out. There were wounds from childhood and teen years that I didn't even know about. I had buried them so deeply that I seemed to forget, until I saw a picture or heard a song that triggered a bad or painful memory. This has gone on for weeks now, and as of today, I'm working on pictures from my senior year in high school.

God has redeemed my past -- pictures and music -- in the marvelous fashion that He manages to do while we are tempted to think He isn't paying attention. The music I thought I hated has grown on me. It's still not my favorite, but I can endure it now because as I looked at those pictures with that music playing, He restored my soul in that area. He has attached new memories for the music and the pictures in place of the bad ones by causing me to remember something happy about each section of my life.

I still don't understand how He did it, but it all came into focus a few nights ago. I found I was listening to a mixture of gospel, contemporary Christian, and Vineyard/Hillsong worship music and singing along as I journaled captions about the pictures I am putting in a scrapbook.

I have my joy back! I realized tonight that I am no longer doing this out of obligation; I can't wait to get back to work on these albums! God has downloaded the skill into me to do this and given me a passion for it.

So, nothing has really changed in my life, but now I see it through a different lens. God has miraculously altered my perception in several areas:

Instead of feeling alone and abandoned, I now choose to remember that I have many ways to keep in touch with my kids. The internet is a fabulous tool. I am thankful that I have children and grandchildren, and I proud that they are fulfilling God's purpose for their lives. I still don't know why they all live so far away, but God has a purpose for it, and He has given me grace to bear it. I am blessed.

Instead of feeling slighted by God because I grew up like an only child, since my brother was grown and out of the house by the time I was old enough to begin to know I even had a brother, I choose to remember that He has given me very dear friends who have become sisters and brothers, and as a bonus, I now have nieces and nephews. I am blessed.

Instead of feeling obligated to be family historian, I now choose to see it as a privilege that God allows me to record all the facts and history and I get to journal about the pictures so there is a story told through them! We all know how much I love to write!  I am blessed.

If you're struggling with sadness or feeling alone and abandoned, take heart. God can and will fix that. You just have to give it to Him. He will take it from there. 

Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. Hebrews 4:16 NIV

Just an Ordinary Moment

I've been having my morning coffee on the back porch as much as possible lately. Most days I am scurrying around, trying to get out the door to work on time and there's just not time. There would be if I got up earlier, but since I'm a night owl that's not likely to happen.

This morning, though, was a Saturday, so I spent some time praying and listening on the porch this morning.

It was cool out this morning, and a gentle breeze stirred the trees occasionally. It was refreshing, that breeze. I would have missed out on that if I had my time with the Lord inside on the couch, like I usually do.

I heard a buzzing sound, and looked over to see honeybees in the bush by the porch. They were not interested in me. They were doing what God created them to do, pollinating the plants. They were minding their own business. They had no plan to come and sting me at all, I'm sure of it.

But I moved to the chair on the other side of the porch, just in case.

I continued to listen and watch. Birds were singing and flying here and there. Little white cottonwood seeds from the neighbor's tree swirled around and around on the wind and finally floated down to the ground. Squirrels scampered in the trees. I looked up and saw the moon, still visible through a gap in the tree limbs above even though it was daylight. Five minutes later, I looked up again and it had moved farther west. I could barely see a bit of it behind the tree limb.

What's the point of all this? I asked myself the same thing at first, but then I realized a profound, simple truth.

I felt a breeze. I heard and then saw bees hard at work. I saw birds and heard their sweet songs. I watched the snow-like cottonwood seeds ride the breeze. I saw a glimpse, just for a moment, of the moon on its daily path.

I experienced these things because I stopped and took the time. Sure, they don't seem significant in themselves. They are normal, everyday occurrences. But God spoke to me in those daily, ordinary things that don't seem to matter.

I noticed nature this morning because I got still. He promised to never leave me, so I know He is with me always. He is always and forever right by my side. But....how many times has He had something to say to me, but I wouldn't be still and listen?

Lord, forgive me for being too busy. I am listening now.

“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” Psalm 46:10 NIV

Mothers Day

Mama in her 20s

We are quickly approaching Mothers Day, and lots of people are posting pictures of themselves with their moms. I've not found a picture of me with my mama, though; at least not in the years after I became an adult. She passed away 20 years ago, before Facebook and the mania of having to document everything we do, before digital cameras, and of course before cell phone cameras with which we are so fond of snapping selfies. Back in the 90s when she was still alive I was usually the one behind the camera, taking pictures of my kids and what they were involved in. So there are virtually no pictures of my mother and me. No one thought to take one. 

I've written about my mom on here before.  The most recent one was 4 years ago, though, so I thought it might be nice to post a small tribute to her. She was a devoted mother and grandmother, and her children and grandchildren were her life.

I was a stay at home mom after my youngest child was born until he started first grade. We were a one car family and my husband drove it to work. It was common for Mama to show up and let me take her car to run errands while she either went with us or stayed with the kids. She was such a help and friend in those days. 

After my dad passed away, she spent a lot more time with my kids. I think they helped her get past the suffocating grief that threatened to consume her. It was really hard for her; he was the love of her life. I'm glad that they had the privilege of spending time with her. It was good for her, good for them, and good for me.

Mama and her grandkids in 1986

Sometimes when kids are small life can get overwhelming as any mom with young children can vouch for. My mom had a way of showing up at my house when I needed help the most.  She would help with the kids, fold clothes, help out with housework; whatever needed to be done. I would love to be able to show up to help with my grandkids, but they live too far away for me to be able to do that. This is a part of my life that I am currently struggling with. Even though it's heartbreaking to not be there for them and help my daughter, I know that God has a different plan for me and my place in their lives. If He meant for me to be able to be there more, He would make a way for it. I know He knows better than I what we all need. I just have to trust Him.

1994

Mama and the kids started playing board games when they were old enough. I still have the Monopoly game that they just about wore out. She was delighted to have them come and stay the night with her. They would play games or watch movies and just have a great time. 

I never considered it before, but perhaps this is why we love movies and love to play board games so much.

Happy Mothers Day in heaven, Mama! <3

"Her children rise up and bless her; Her husband also, and he praises her, saying: 'Many daughters have done nobly, but you excel them all.'" Proverbs 31:28,29 NASB