Beauty on Campus 2

On the day of the ETSU NCAA Playoffs, we got out of class early.  This gave me the opportunity to truly enjoy the campus for the first time since I started last semester.  My life is a whirlwind of appointments, court dates, class, work, kids, etc.  This day, I could walk slowly, pay attention to what was going on around me, and soak up some much-needed peace and quiet.  As I waited for my Cinnamon Dulce Latte at Starbucks, I listened to the students and staff cheer and lament as one.  The unity in that room was precious.  In unison, we celebrated and mourned every play together.  Walking out into the sunny, soon-to-be-Spring day, I felt the wind and sunlight hit my face.  To my left, an adorable girl with pink and white hair was walking with her eyes half closed as she fingered her piano piece, to my left a large group of students jogged through the pride walk.  Walking on to the parking garage, there were students practicing fencing on one side, and the ROTC practicing drills on the other.  All around me, there were diverse groups enjoying their college experience.  I had never experienced such tranquility on campus before.  Finally, I can say that I enjoy campus life.  I may never be able to experience it as I would have when I was younger and time was more available, but that day, I was in awe of this step in my life.  Thank you ETSU for giving me this day.  Thank you, previous Midway students, for choosing my essay.  Thank you, Dr., Wachs, Mr. Hedden, and Dr. Kornwiebel for standing by me during these dark and difficult days so that I could experience this one glorious day.  I pray it stays with me on the days that I am rushing from one class to the next, or from one appointment to another.  God speed, and go Bucs!

On-Campus Self-Defense Class

Recently, I attended a self-defense class on campus.  This was not the kind of self-defense class where you practice defensive moves and learn how to drop-kick an offender.  Instead, we watched a video on ways you can prevent being attacked in the first place, and what you can do if you are attacked.  We were given resources, one of which was the power and control wheel.  I wasn't surprised that this was part of the package because I was first introduced to this wheel when I tried to leave my husband 10 years ago.  We discussed healthy relationships and how we can ward off an attacker just by being mindful of where we are, who is around us, and what is going on.  If we feel as though someone is shady, visually confronting them may convince them that we are not worth their time.  Focusing on the Power and Control Wheel, there is a cycle of violence between partners.  There is a honeymoon stage in which the abuser will be wonderful and sweet in order to make you forget how terrible they have been or to prevent you from seeing how terrible they will be before unleashing the beast.  Many abusive traits consist of intimidation, emotional abuse, isolation, minimizing and blaming, using children against you, economic abuse, male privilege, and coercion and threats.  If you notice any of these red flags, beware!  Unfortunately, I had to leave halfway through the hour long class, but I was glad I went.  Right now, fear is ever present in my life.  When I go to court, when I have to sit through a meeting at the boys' school, when I receive a text message that is more than a sentence long from the man that has made it his goal to be inside my head for the last 16 years, fear is almost consuming.  These moments are all it takes to send me on a three day crying binge complete with hyperventilation and despair.  Apparently, this is what it feels like to have PTSD due to domestic violence.  That is what they diagnosed me with after I insisted they do multiple psychological evaluations.  This class made me fell brave for a moment.  One day I am going to have to face this man that brings out so much of me that I hate to see.  A lack of trust in Jesus, a fear of man, all of the things I stooped to in order to survive the last 16 years.  Everything I despise about myself are wrapped up in this man.  The sins that Jesus so lovingly died for, are rooted in my idolatry of Mike Allen.  Going to this class was another attempt at freeing myself from his hold.  Maybe this is too candid, but, at this point in my life, I have to say the things that I have swept under the rug for so long.  Holding it all in is suffocating.  My insistence on being open about my life experiences are how I heal right now.  I know it may make some people uncomfortable, but holding it in is not an option anymore.  Not until I heal enough to be able to choke the words down again.  When that day comes, I will stop saying the truths that stop the conversation and make people second-guess what they just heard.  I will stop being socially awkward and stop pretending that the same truths don't stop me in my tracks and make we want to hug the part of me that experienced these things and tell her it is all going to be okay.  I will be able to believe it when I look in my boys' eyes and tell them that it is okay, that we are safe, that we are going to come out of all of this stronger.  Right now, all I really want to do is hold them and tell them how sorry I am that I did not wake up sooner, that I did not try to save us before it had a chance to get terrible all over again, that I ever went back in the first place, that I married the man that brought us all so much pain and fear, that I was not stronger, that I watched it all, that I failed.  I know I can't do that right now because they are young and they will not understand.  One day.  One day, I will be able to tell them.  I just pray they forgive me.

Its been a while...

Hey Hedden!  I know you are probably the only one that reads this since it is for a grade.  I guess I will just let you in on how things are going since my last post.  So, the world fell out from under my feet.  Some days I fell apart, some days I got angry, some days I fell on my knees, other days I danced and praised the Lord who gives and takes away.  I wondered if I would get to come back this semester, but thankfully, here I am.  I am taking some classes over again.  Some classes have been changed on my major course since I changed my major.  I am officially a SPED major, for minor disabilities.  Well, see you as soon as I can.

Praising through the brokenness...

Everyone that has ever walked on this sin drenched earth has been blindsided.  We have all had our feet pulled out from under us.  I have on more than one occasion, and I am sure you have as well.  Recently, one of my worst nightmares came true, and I survived.  I am still surviving.  My heart feels like it has been obliterated, but I am still standing and breathing.  I wish I could say that, like Job, my first reaction was to fall on my knees and praise God, but I am not that holy.  Instead, I fell apart.  Although I know this blog is for a class, I also know that it is permanently on the internet.  This blog will be here long after I have completed Collo.  One day, someone will happen upon this blog, and everything I am writing now will be exactly what they need to hear.  I know this because that is how our Heavenly Father works.  He uses our brokenness and our divine comfort to comfort others.  He even tells us this in 2 Corinthians 1.  I want you to know that life truly does go on.  We can heal.  We can hope, even when it feels like all hope is lost.  The enemy can move in, he can attack, he can hurt us in the deepest places of our hearts, but we can still breath and praise Jesus in the brokenness.  I am going to leave you with the words of the Holy Spirit through the Apostle Paul.  As you read them, remember that this is a promise from our Holy and Mighty Savior.  He holds all things together, even us when we fall apart.  He remembers that we are but dust (Psalm 103) and redeems our life from the pit.

2 Corinthians 4:7-18

"But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 11For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. 12So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.

13It is written: “I believed; therefore I have spoken.”^b Since we have that same spirit of^c faith, we also believe and therefore speak, 14because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus and present us with you to himself. 15All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.

16Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 17For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

Beauty on Campus

I had the opportunity to visit the Reece Museum on campus this week.  I was so surprised by the raw emotions I experienced.  I will share photos of some of my favorite pieces. 

This piece is part sculpture, part something else entirely.  She is sitting on an old, worn wooden box, and she is bound to the box by rope.  The design on her "skin" has a bird sitting in its nest, prints of male sculptures, flowers, and a serpent.  I felt sorry for her, but I was inspired at the same time.  I am not sure what she means, or what the artist was trying to portray, but she is beautiful.

This quilt is made of cotton, silk thread, and newspaper strips.  It is called A Month of Sundays.  There are several news headlines woven into each patch.   Many of the strips are of traumatic events, or events that appeal to the average person.  It was very moving. 

This was my absolute favorite piece.  This is a dress, but it is so much more than that.  All over the dress, the artist wrote down some things people have said about or to them, or that they have said about themselves, that they could not take off.  I believe that they were saying that we wear these words like an article of clothing.  We can choose to take them off, but most of the time, we wear them as if we are bound to.  "I am hopeless."  "I am not good enough."  "I am afraid."  "You are too fat."  These are just a few of the statements that are written on the dress.  This piece relates to me the most because I have had my own accusers through this life, including myself.  This artist chose to take their accusations off, but Jesus washed mine clean.  I can recall things people have said about or to me, or things that I have said about myself, but the pain is often drowned out by the love of Christ.  I thought that I would share some of these things in honor of this artist.  "You will never amount to anything."  "You stupid, F*#@ing B*^%!"  "Everything is your fault.  It's all you!  You!  You!  You!"  "You are too big."  "I can't do this."  "I am not smart enough."  We do not have to wear these words.  We can lay them down at the foot of the cross.  We can pick up the crown that He has laid before us.  We can rise up and shine and reign like the sons and daughters of our King.  I have never been more moved by a piece of art in my entire life.  I tip my hat to you my friend!

I love these two pieces as well.  They are made out of completely recycled material, but they are still cute.  I would actually wear these!  I was so impressed.  The talent and imagination it takes to make something like this is just amazing.

Last, but not least, these chrysalises are made of yarn.  They have been crocheted and placed on very pretty stands.  I am not sure of the meaning behind them, although I am sure I could come up with something emotional since that is what I do.  Still, they are something I would love to display in my shabby chic home.  If only God had called me to a profession that actually made money!  :)  Hahaha!  Teaching will not buy me any of these pieces of art, but they are still absolutely beautiful.

Well, I guess this post has a double purpose.  You learned some things about me, while seeing the inside of the Reece Museum on ETSU campus.  I hope you enjoyed it!

Collo Requirements

Today, I am taking a break from the "Who I Am" posts to give some information on a recent event that satisfies a collo requirement.  Yay!  I was not aware that this could be used for a class when I originally signed up, but getting a grade for something like this is awesome.  This Saturday, my oldest son and I had the enormous opportunity to participate in the Alzheimer's Association Walk.  The theme of the event was, "The end to Alzheimer's starts with -> Me!"  We were able to help in the Promise Garden booth where we assisted participants with the appropriate colored flower.  Each color had a meaning.  Blue flowers represented those who are actually suffering from Alzheimer's.  Purple represented those who have lost loved ones due to Alzheimer's.  Yellow represented those who currently care for and support someone with Alzheimer's.  Last, but not least, orange represented those who generally support the cause of ending Alzheimer's.  The participants would write something on the pedals, and the helpers would put the flowers on the stem.  The flowers would spin, and they were so beautiful.  One woman lost her grandfather to Alzheimer's just 14 days before the Walk.  She was so moved by accepting her purple flower that she couldn't write her message.  She asked me to do it for her.  This made it personal for me.  I watched her walk away with tears in her eyes and a lump in my throat.  When we were all finished handing out the flowers, everyone at the Walk was invited to an inspirational speech.  The speaker had each of us hold up our flower by color.  She beautifully explained what each color represented and gave a moment of pause to honor those holding up their flowers.  There were only 2 blue flowers in the crowd.  I imagined how many people in this area, that are actually suffering from this disease, that were unable to attend because of how debilitating the disease is.  Later, I found out, by one of the other volunteers, that there was another man present that was too choked up to take his blue flower. 

I chose an orange flower.  I wrote, "For Mrs. Woodworth," on mine.  Mrs. Woodworth was a nurse in her prime.  After a hip replacement, Alzheimer's began taking over her mind.  I worked for HomeInstead at the time and I was her Companion/Caregiver.  Her decline began gradually.  After only a couple of months, her mind was completely overcome with fear and confusion.  I was clueless and afraid for her.  She was such an intelligent and graceful woman, and then she was gone. 

My son was fascinated by the people, but more so with the camera from Channel 11 News.  The camera man took the time to answer every question my son had.  It was wonderful.  I was afraid to let him ask at first because I wasn't sure if the man would be nice.  I was so surprised at how genuine this man was.  He was excited to explain everything to a 13 yr old boy.  I took a picture for a keepsake. 

Channel 11 News Cameraman teaching my oldest son about his camera.

The majority of my volunteer work has been through my church.  I thoroughly enjoyed serving my community outside of my church.  I was able to meet people that would not usually step foot in a church.  Although I was not sharing the name of Jesus, I was still able to share His love. 

Who I am, part 1

I have been given the task of blogging about who I am.  This is pretty convenient since I had previously told you that I would share my testimony.  Since there are so many aspects of who I am and what my testimony is, I will be doing this in several posts, rather than just one long story.  For my first post about who I am and what my testimony is, I will be sharing my first college essay.  My second week of class in Comp I, we came in to a list on the board.  We had to choose a prompt and write about it.  I was terrified because, up to this point, I was convinced that I was a stupid person.  By this, I mean literally unintelligent and incapable of learning much.  I chose a topic that I thought would be fairly easy.  I was supposed to write about what I would do if I could go back to a single day in my past.  I put my pencil on the paper and froze, but then it just came out of me.  As I began to write, I felt like something had taken over me and the words just flowed onto the paper.  This is not the most amazing essay ever, but it is a part of my inmost being.  In that classroom, sitting at that desk, I learned so much about myself.  It was the beginning of an awakening that has not died since.  I hope that you enjoy it...

I Can Be Healed

            I see him sitting there.  He is watching the Elvis marathon.  I am not sure how I got here or what has happened, but he is right there.  I am afraid.  Can he see me?  Hesitantly, I walk up and sit down beside him.  I am trembling.  I feel as though I might choke on the knot in my throat as I fight back tears.  He looks at me like nothing has changed.  Do I look the same?  He tries to hand me the joint in his hands.  I finally speak.  “I am not a little girl anymore, Daddy Mike.  I don’t smoke.  I don’t drink.  I am not the same.”

            He doesn’t seem fazed by my change.  I am still trying to figure out if this is real.  We talk a little about the past.  We talk a little about my present.  I am dying to ask him, but scared to death at the same time.  Finally, the word jumps out of my throat as if it was trying to break free.  “Why?”  The next thing I know a string of questions and rants come out with years of tears and anger.  All of them end with the same word, “why.”

            I do not expect much of an answer.  He is the same man that did all of those horrible things.  He does not give an answer right away.  He just sits there watching Elvis and smoking.  I sit there with him, broken and silent.  I wonder how I can hate him and love him at the same time.  I wonder how he can bring fear and comfort at the same time.  I do not know where to go from here. 

            As I sit there wondering what to do next, he actually answers me.  “Because I wanted to.  Because I didn’t think you would remember.  Because I didn’t think I would get caught.”  I did not expect the truth, but there it is.  I got what I wanted, but I am not sure I feel any better.  The truth is still the truth.  I am still broken and scarred.  He is still sitting there watching Elvis and smoking his joint.  There is nothing left to say.

            I am sitting there on that awful couch, memories pouring in.  I think about the time I asked him if I could call him Daddy.  I think about how I used to look forward to our time alone at night.  I think about how excited I was to see the strawberry wine, the joint, and the marathon.  It was supposed to be our father-daughter time.  It was supposed to be normal and healthy.   The reality of his deception makes me sick.  I was so innocent, so naïve.  I struggle with thoughts of guilt and sorrow.  My heart is groaning and I feel as though I might be taken over with despair.

            In my heart, I know I have to forgive him.  It is the only way I will ever find peace.  It is the only way I will survive with my sanity intact.  Some days, forgiveness will be easy.  I will remember that my past made me who I am today.  I will remember that it led me down the road that gave me my husband and children.  I will remember that it led me to Jesus.  Other days, I will have to fight the anger.  I will have to choose to forgive, regardless of how many flashes of his face go through my mind.  I will have to remember the grace that made me new.

            I do not know if I am dreaming or really sitting here.  Will I wake up soon?  Am I stuck here?  I have to pick myself up off this couch.  I have to walk out the door.  Maybe I just have to open my eyes.  Either way, I know I have to go on living.  I can to choose to forgive.  I can keep on raising my children and thanking God that they are safe.  I can allow my broken past to make me stronger.  I can be who he said I would never be.  I can be healed.  I can be free.

I thought that it would be best to start with this essay because the reality of who I am and where I come from is not all roses and sunshine.  I cannot say that I have lived a beautiful and perfect life.  It has been rough and I have gotten dirty.  I do not love Jesus because that is what I was taught to do.  I do not want to inspire kids because I had an amazing childhood.  I love Jesus because He is the first taste of love I have ever known.  I love Him because He loved me when I was unlovable.  I want to inspire kids because inspiration was so void in my childhood.  I want to be for others everything I never had.  I am at peace with so much of my past.  Right now, there are children out there that are going through the same things that I experienced.  I want to be there to recognize the fear and sorrow.  I want to be there to be the spark that fans into a flame.  I want to be there to set them on a path better than the one I felt doomed to follow.  If I can be healed, so can they.  To all of those in the Education system, determine to be the spark.  For me, it was Jesus.  For them, it can be us!