Precious Predilections

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  • When the Healer Doesn’t Heal

    When the Healer Doesn’t Heal

    Heart_with_Bandage-512Sometimes I use music to silence the ache of my heart, but there is no song loud enough to remedy the ache I feel when death comes incredibly close.  Death always feels sudden and unexpected; sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t.  In youth and old age, the heart ache is just the same.  What is not expected is the piercing pain that is with you when you rise and prevents you from sleeping.  Causing you to toss and turn with questions you’ve never fully considered until tragedy has made it’s home in your inner circle of friends or family.  No longer a tweetable article you sympathize with, YOU KNOW the victim(s).

    I write about this as my heart has wrestled with what is true and what I feel.  I feel pain, anger, and hurt because I know God can (and does) heal, but He has not in this instance.  How do I reconcile my aching heart with what my mind knows to be true?  A friend is no longer here; a family member will never again give me a warm embrace and tell me that I “need to eat more chicken to put some meat on my bones.”

    As I increase in age, I have intentionally sought to simplify my life (some might call me a minimalist), but somehow it has become more complex.  Somehow in my thirties, trite answers such as, “everything happens for a reason” are no longer sufficient.  This response leaves me with little ability to be receptive to a statement which lacks empathy and seeks to assuage my ache if only temporarily.   This response now seems artificial; like ingredients that shouldn’t be touched.   Artificial when family and friends are dying of cancer.   Artificial when sudden car accidents end the life of the first,  consistent,  positive male role model I ever had.  Artificial when drug and alcohol addiction destroys the life of a young man biologically deemed father,  yet emotionally and physically distant.

    Tragedy has made its home in my heart and it is bitterly painful.  Parts of me want to apologize because of the toll this grief has taken – that’s not going to happen.  This need for apology causes me to desire to tuck away my vulnerability so that my friends and family can behold an apparently “happier” version of myself.  That is not healthy and is no longer my method of coping.  In earnest, I am not sure how long grief will be present, but I have made space for it. I am allowing myself to feel the pain of loss and to cry about it over and over again because this brings some healing to my soul.  When the Healer (Jesus) doesn’t heal physically, I know of no greater remedies than:

    • Those who remain close enough to  listen,  pray,  and cry with me.
    • Constant reminders of the beauty of community and that I do not have to be alone.   I can choose the presence of those that love me especially in my weakest,  most vulnerable state.
    • Those who speak the truth in love.
    • Beautiful memories imbued with laughter.
    • Honestly sharing my disappointment with Jesus who can shoulder it.  No longer waiting for all of the answers to life’s complex situations,  but somehow gaining better perspective of the resurrection and the beautiful gift of eternal life that death gave me.  Learning the spiritual principle of God producing life out of death.

    At the crucifixion, death came when some of the people present wanted healing.   From Jesus’ selfless act a newness of life has been made possible for all.   All can be made new.  Brand new.   Maybe death is more complex than I thought.   More complex than my longing for extended life so that I might personally gain or benefit.   More complex for sure.  I’ve learned how to praise God when prayers are answered as I expected; I am now embracing the difficulty of learning how to do so when they are not.  In order to do the latter, I must remember who the God I serve is…He is just; He is love; and He is a good father.

    My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the LORD. “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. – Isaiah 55:8 [NLT]

  • No Sweeter Words

    No Sweeter Words

    Today marks the 1 year anniversary of the Precious Predilections blog.  The “start” of this blog has been liberating.  Writing has allowed me to courageously share things that would otherwise become a passing thought.  In so many ways writing has become for me the unveiling of the broken and beautiful things that occurred last year.  So as we start this new year, I want to begin by sharing some of the sweetest words I’ve known.  These words remind me of the miracle of life that God has bestowed upon me.  They remind me that God knew what He was doing when He inspired my mom to name me Precious.  These words are the sweetest.  In honor of the start of a new year, I want the first blog post of the year to honor someone that I love and hold dear.

    Happy New Year 2016 replace 2015 concept on the sea beach

    No sweeter words than those spoken over me by mother 18 years ago.  She has written many poems and I have them in my possession, but this one holds a special place in my heart.  No formal, stylistic lessons on writing poems here. No soliloquies.   Just a mother inspired to encourage her daughter.  A mother inspired to share a story.  A mother moved to make indelible impressions on my heart with the stroke of her pen.

    My Child

    One minute after you were born your breath was snatched away, but by God’s grace you were saved that day. Two pounds and five ounces that’s all you weighed, on what i thought would be a faithless day.  They shaved your hair, put needles from head
    to feet.  I hung my head and cried in defeat.  God sent his angel in the form of
    my mom to comfort me and hold me and say well done.  He said shake off the blues, everything will be alright.  Don’t you know, she was born to fight?  

    You have never been mine, just a loan you see.  For from day one God had control of thee.  You were born with so many problems, but He took them away.  No open heart surgery for you He said that day.  That hole in your heart I’ll fill it with love.  You’ll float through life on the wings of a dove.

    Mom2
    My Momma – Christmas 2015

     

    I’ve watched you grow a joy to behold, God’s love has
     surrounded you as your life unfolds.  At the age of twelve He claimed you again.  Now isn’t this how my story began? Into your life came Freddie Filmore, Jr. (Chip), he worked at P.A.L.  Who knew he’d be more?  He took you into his heart, helped teach you about God, but that was just the beginning of his part.  Then came the pastor, his wife and family, and a group of people at Freedom Ministries.  

    I’ve watched you grow for eighteen years.  Your desires and needs our God has fulfilled.  Now you’re leaving home; you’ll be on your own.  I want you to know that you’ll never be alone.  You have brought me peace, so much joy to my life, but I can hear you say “that’s just the Jesus in me.” I miss you already.  I don’t want to let you go, but I know that you know that I love you so.  So hold your head high, stand tall and be strong.  And remember who you are, the daughter of Casa Lee Young. 

    Mom, It is eighteen years later and I am still growing.  Thank you for being my first teacher.  Thank you for being my present teacher.  And thank you for being my first writing inspiration.  Here’s to the moments and memories of 2016 that will move my fingers to type.  Here’s to another year of blogging.  Thank you all for your support.

  • Still Dripping

    Still Dripping

    passion of christ

    I loathe moments where I am dripping wet and “partially dry.”  Moments when I’ve had to run to my car in the rain without an umbrella.  Or moments when I’ve finished a fantastic work out (like Insanity) and have yet to dry.  These moments are a bit frustrating.  My body is screaming for relief because it knows and longs for the mediocrity of comfort.  Nothing less, nothing more, than dry garments.

    As Easter draws near, many around the world have given Jesus Christ the center stage once again.  Millions will gather in churches and hear accounts of the resurrection.  How Christ overcame death on a cross and rose from the dead in 3 days! This truth should be sobering and exhilarating at the same time for the one who has decided to trust in Christ.  Sobering because the death of Christ was not short and sweet, but deliberate and cruel.  Exhilarating because Christ ACTUALLY OVERCAME DEATH.  Death – the thing that grips our hearts so tightly because of our deep longing for the continued physical presence of those we love.  Death – the thing that looms in the future, but none of us can ever prepare our hearts for.  Death – the thing that also brought us life.

    I recall a Pastor communicating that biblical principles are not intuitive; in fact He said that they are just plain ‘ole backwards.  As in, you would not normally behave this way…ever!  For instance, “…love your enemies and do good to those who hate you.”(Luke 6:27).  Or how about, “Whoever tries to make his life secure will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it.” (Luke 17:33).  The counter intuitive nature of biblical principles remind me that I am powerless to consistently obey them without Christ.  And this is where our understanding of His very natural death and its production of an opportunity for a supernatural life (Him dwelling within us) is critical.   Christ died so that we could have life – eternal life.  He also died so that we could live life that has been reconciled back to Him. (Ephesians 2:13).  But repentance (turning away from sin and trusting in Jesus) is not a one-time event and Lordship (allowing Christ to be master of your life) is not just another trendy idea.  There is a real cost and freedom that comes with salvation for the believer.

    I wonder what Christ felt like as He carried His own cross to His death.  He dripped with blood that would redeem our sins and grant us the opportunity to have a relationship with Him.  Drip. Drip. Drip.  All the way to Golgotha.  He became comfortable with being uncomfortable because reconciliation to the ones He loves (you and me) was closer than ever before.  Thinking about Christ and how He dripped blood (for me), not sweat, makes me want to live life mindful of His sacrifice.  I want to live out lent (LOL) all year long; not simply dedicate 40 days of the year to remember this unparalleled event.  In order to do this, I must continue to drip with the blood of the lamb.

    Dripping is visible.  And the evidence of a changed life must visibly drip from us just as His blood did. Fellow believers and followers of Christ –  It is visible that we love Jesus when we obey His commands.  It is visible that the power of His blood exudes from us when we are loving, extending mercy to others, praying for our enemies, and allowing interruptions in our “busy schedule” for people and problems.  Let’s be sure not to count ourselves so busy that we walk out the door forgetting Christ’s agenda because we are holding too tightly to our own.  Christ wants us to be in the business of reconciliation.

    Are you dripping?  Or are you dry?  Do people see you or do they see Christ?

    “…Son of Man, I remember Your kindness
    Son of Man, I remember Your love

    Your mercy will be remembered forever
    Your mercy will be remembered forever
    Your mercy will be remembered forever

    I still drip with the blood of the Lamb

    We are trophies of Your mercy”

    – excerpt of lyrics from Trophies of Mercy by Davy Flowers

  • Proud Pauper

    Proud Pauper

    My Papa.
    My Papa.

    I had the honor of being a guest blogger on the http://www.collectedyoungminds.org website.  This post was very difficult to write. I hope it speaks for itself.  Enjoy.

    https://www.collectedyoungminds.org/single-post/2015/03/20/CONTRIBUTION-Proud-Pauper

     

  • Turn Down After five

    Turn Down After five

    The title of this blog post might suggest that I am going to share what life is like after thirty years old and how it feels like I am “turning down” a lot more than I am “turning up.”  While there may be lots of truth to that statement, I do not intend to expound on that in this post.  This blog post IS about the behavior of people after a certain age; and that age is five.  Yep, five years old.

    In my life, I’ve had the pleasure to spend a lot of time around young kids and I’ve learned that they have a unique gift of transparency, which inevitably allows them to always be “turned up.”  They turn up the truth, they turn up the laughter, and they turn up the ability to live life!  Let me quickly qualify the term “turned up.” I am in no way speaking of the need to ingest a lot of alcohol or drugs in order to become a more authentic person in speech.  As adults, we know that both drugs and alcohol not only inebriate you, but they also make you honest.  When I think of kids being turned up, I am struck by the reality that they don’t need a thing to be authentic.  They just are.

    My niece and I. Of course, I am wearing another pair of “stylishly chic” pants.

    Some of the brutally honest and terribly funny things kids have said to me over the years have caused me to literally, laugh out loud.  Take for instance, the time I wore a pair of pants that I would qualify as “stylishly chic,” and I was told by a kid that I looked like I was wearing pajama bottoms!  Pajamas, really?  Kids don’t know style!  Do they?  I still enjoy wearing those pants and asking kids what they think of them.

    With more than 10 nieces and nephews ranging from the age of 2 – 10, I have been gifted with the ongoing perspective of kids even outside of my role in youth development.   Keep in mind that my perspective is pure conjecture. However, it seems to me that something happens to little [human] beings after the age of five and they learn that it is important to assuage people and make sure their responses garner a positive response.  They do away with pajama pant statements.  After five years old, kids seem to begin caring about what others think.  This steady loss of transparency has a way of slowly altering our actions as adults.  It helps us to live with facades and forces us to “turn down” our authenticity.  This may be the first time you ever hear me exhort anyone to “turn up,” but please dear ones, TURN UP YOUR AUTHENTICITY after FIVE.  If anything, as adults, we have a deeper need for family and friends to be real with us.

    This is purely anecdotal, but here are a few lessons we can learn from the little ones on how to stay turned up:

    • Be truthful.  As adults this gift sometimes fades for fear of offense.  People still yearn for truth and we can speak it in love.  Let love lead the conversations.
    • Be yourself. Kids wear batman costumes to the grocery store because they are superheroes.  As adults, we have a ton to offer one another by being ourselves (even if we have superhero tendencies).  Don’t give the world a watered down version of yourself.  Kids certainly don’t.
    • Be present.  Kids don’t worry about the future.  They trust that everything will be okay.  They don’t waste energy worrying.  We can learn from them.
    • Be authentic. Kids don’t pretend to like people; so don’t you do that.  Genuinely learn about others and develop a friendship from that place.  We are more alike than we are different.

    As a high school student, my Spanish teacher shared an old proverb that has remained with me over the years.  The proverb says, “Tell me who your friends are and I will tell you who you are.”  May you and your friends be known as those who never “turned down” their authenticity.  Love others well and live authentically. Let people see you.  You are worth seeing.

    So you must stop telling lies. “You must always speak the truth to each other,”because we all belong to each other in the same body. Ephesians 4:25 (ERV)

  • Honorable Mention

    Honorable Mention

    honorable mention

    : an award or special praise given to someone who has done something extremely well but who has not won any of the official prizes

    While there are many things on my heart to discuss, I wanted to begin my first official blog post by bestowing honorable mention upon a man whose consistent love, sacrifice, and encouragement, redirected the trajectory of my life.  I want to bestow honor because our society lacks an award for men and women who selflessly give of themselves on a daily basis to present youth in our under resourced communities with hope.  Mentors.  It is prevalent for social media feeds to be filled with stories of men and women who demean our young people and remind them of the barriers in their way to success.  I am deeply grateful that my life’s story reads the direct opposite of most from my neck of the woods.  Chip changed me.

    Chip, as he was affectionately called, was my mentor as a young person (5th grade and beyond) growing up in a high poverty and crime neighborhood.  He loved God, but I didn’t know that immediately.  He loved people, but I didn’t know that immediately. Chip loved solving problems and thinking deeply and I would eventually love the same things.  The only thing I knew about Chip was that he worked at the P.A.L. (Police Athletic League) Center in our neighborhood and I assumed he was just like most workers there, only there for a job.  I was so very wrong.  Chip loved Jesus and because of his love for Christ, he extended himself in ways that I’m sure were uncomfortable and inconvenient at times.  The idea that anyone would sacrifice anything to be a blessing to me and my family was foreign.

    As we fast forward more than 20 years later, Chip, although you are no longer living here on the earth, your legacy lives within me daily.  My story is your story and it’s forever intertwined for God’s glory.  I came to know Jesus as my Lord and Savior at an early age because of the practical, consistent, imperfect example I saw in you as a young Christian.  I became the first in my family to attend college because you told me college was really possible and encouraged me to be excellent in school.  I became an electrical engineer because you allowed me to tinker with computers you were assembling.  I will never forget the curiosity that was unlocked the moment you allowed me to learn with the very real possibility that I might fail.  I was so afraid to fail, but you lovingly challenged me to think through possible solutions.

    Precious as a 1 yr old.
    Precious, age 1, wearing a shirt that reads, “Life is Good.”

    You were at the memorial service of my natural father who died due to his battle with drugs and alcohol addiction at the tender age of 34.  I never heard you speak ill of my father.  As a 16 year old I did not know the gaping hole that would be left due to the lack of my father’s presence.  But God knew and he gave me you.  And you gave me your family (your mom and dad) who welcomed me in as an extended member.  I weep as I write this because I wish you could see me now.  I wish you could see me share my story weekly with other believers who have decided to mentor at-risk youth in Cincinnati.  Almost every day I am granted the opportunity to honor YOU and share with others how your love and that of your family changed my life.

    The world can not honor what it does not value.  And unfortunately our value system is whack.  But may you know that I honor you and every mentor that has decided to live for something greater than themselves.  I am proud to be a part of your legacy.  I hope I’ve made you proud.  Thank you for loving this broken little girl who always had aspirations of being number one, but didn’t always believe that life could be any different. Today life is different and it is good.

    A good name is to be more desired than great wealth, Favor is better than silver and gold. – Proverbs 22:1 (NASB)

  • The Start

    The Start

    perspective-1

    I have decided to blog because writing is near and dear to my heart.  I have decided to blog because I want my voice to be heard beyond the musings of personal journal writings.  I have decided to blog because I am a natural writer.  I have decided to blog because I have something to say.

    This blog is simple in its purpose. It serves as an opportunity for me to share my views on the happenings in our world, nation, economy, and neighborhoods.  The very essence of the word predilection implies that we all have some perspective with which we see the world and that perspective is marred, myopic, and often misunderstood. Through this blog I hope to bring some of the things that I have experienced, pondered, and dreamed of to “virtual” paper.  My hope is that as I write down what is on my heart that the collective perspective of many others will help paint a broader picture of this world we live in.  Predilection has to do with perspective.  I hope to hear yours.  Please journey with me as I write down my predilections.