The Plank-Eyed Girl: The Birth of Emotional Cancer

The Plank-Eyed Girl: The Birth of Emotional Cancer: With the pace of a constipated snail, I make my way onto the bleachers and situate myself for another "Sunday Gathering". Lig...

The Birth of Emotional Cancer

With the pace of a constipated snail, I make my way onto the bleachers and situate myself for another "Sunday Gathering". Lights dim and music flows freely into this electric atmosphere.   I stand with the congregation, but am not participating.  I am as still as a Popsicle left outside on a Arctic Winter day. Internally though, something is horribly wrong.  There is a war raging but I don't have labels for the two warring internal parties. 

This morning we are not sitting in our "usual" area with the "usual" people.  I just can't do it.  So, I steer the Mr. to the bleachers thinking this is a better idea.  Unfortunately, the view is even better up here and all I can do is look at my friends. I feel like a version of my 13 year old self.  There are wild unconfirmed thoughts coursing uncontrollably through my head.  

I feel like I am being  chased down by the bulls at the annual "Running of the Bulls" festival in Spain.  The sound bites pop like popcorn inside my cranium and they sound like this:  "They all like to do similar things that you and the Mr. can no longer do."  "They are all going on vacation; skiing;or boating without you."  "They are all moving into a different season of life."  "You and the Mr. have too many physical limitations and needs."  "You are a burden."  The ticker tape is endless and seems to be on a continual loop.

With the speed of someone tipping over a domino train,  

 I hear a whisper, "You are jealous."  "WHAT!!!" I have NEVER experienced jealousy in my adult life (that I can remember).  I collapse onto the bench.    Where are all of these unconfirmed thoughts coming from?  Why am I feeling this?  None of this makes any sense, nor is it even close to the truth.  This tribe has done nothing except for take fabulous care of us and include us in everything.  Unfortunately, my thoughts are gathering speed and it feels as if I am approaching a nuclear face-off with the two warring parties - known truth and unconfirmed lies. 

Desperation slowly slithers up my throat and hisses it's familiar taunts, "Just run and hide.  Protect yourself.  Get rid of them before they can get rid of you."   Quietly slipping out of the gathering, I race toward the car. Sliding in and way down in the front seat,  I grab my sunglasses and pray for the gift of camouflage. "Help!" is all I can manage to get out.

Flipping through my phone, Proverbs 14:30 slides across the screen.  Carefully, I allow my eyes to scan the text "...jealousy is like cancer in the bones."  Whoa!  Is this what is going on?  Am I believing cancerous lies whispered by the enemy into my ears?  Have they provided the fertile ground for jealousy to be birthed?"  It is completely clear that believing these lies has caused an emotional cancer that I need to get rid of.  

In the stillness of this metal cage, I hear truth from the one who made me.  YOUR feelings and perceptions are based on lies that you have allowed the enemy of your soul to whisper in your ear.  NONE of them are true.  This tribe has been alongside of you and will continue to be there.  They don't even know what you are thinking or feeling. 

I'm undone.  

Simply undone.  

Completely undone.

Exiting the car, I  locate a couple female tribe members.  I do the only thing that I know will bring peace and wholeness to this internal battlefield.  I use "my words". I surrender my pride.  I confess to them what has been swirling in my head and taken root in the fertile soil of unfounded lies.  I apologize for my distance and behavior. I apologize for listening to unfounded lies and alienating myself.  

I am grateful that an internal nuclear war has been averted and peace has returned.  I am grateful for a gracious tribe who allows authenticity and mulligans.  I am grateful for truth that sets me free.

Have you ever dealt with feelings of jealousy?  Have you ever listened to lies being whispered in your ear by the master of all liars?  Have you ever made up stories or reasoning in your head about things you see?  The enemy of our souls loves to uses all of these tactics to plant an emotional cancer that will destroy you.  

James 5:16 in the Message gives us the keys to restoring peace. It states, "Make this your common practice:  Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you can live together whole and healed."  If you have allowed the lies of the enemy to take root in your thoughts it is not to late to have peace restored. TODAY ... grab another believer and run, walk, crawl, whatever you need to do to the ONLY one who can restore your peace.  He is waiting for you.

Until We Chat Again,

The Plank-Eyed Girl

Lock Boxes; The Cold War Within;and The Gift of Originality

9:30 am Monday - There is an annoying chattering going on around me.  I can't seem to make sense of it. It seems like it has gone on for almost 25+ years.  Today though, it seems to almost be screeching inside my head. It sounds like Swahili, even though I know it is English and the people speaking are all highly educated.

Taking in every detail, my chocolate rimmed eyes slowly circle the room.  The size and shape of the windows.

The textures and colors of the faux leather sofa.  The smoothness of the newly purchased tables.  The facial shapes and expressions of the people sharing this space. The room is full of color and  my eyes are soaking in and savoring each and every detail.  I am hearing, but not understanding the words that are being vocalized.   

For twentyish years, I have tried to fit with this infinity group.  I have tried to belong to this label.  I have tried to "understand" what my job really is. Lord knows I have enough education.  Today though, it is simply too much.  

My colleagues are working on clues to open a box.  They are devouring this challenge.  Their laughter is swirling through the atmosphere of this room. Silently, I realize their preferred knowledge base is a world apart from mine.  They devour facts, information, and rules. I am lost in this world.  I am suffocating. In the museum of my middle school self, I want to continue to "pretend".  Pretend like I understand what they are saying.  Pretend like I "fit in."  Just "Pretend" on all levels in this setting. BUT...I don't belong.  I never have and never will. Silently, my lips spill out a plea for understanding from my Creator.

Self delusion has been a wonderful companion, but now the dam of denial I have so carefully constructed, has sprung a leak.  Not just a leak, but it is crumbling right in front of me.    "Pretending" has served its purpose.  However, I don't think like any of these people.  I don't hear what they hear.  I don't

see like they see.  I have been a master of this game, but it is not me.  My world is colors, textures, and words. This dissonance has been an ongoing cold war within and around me, but today the it feels like a hurricane has reached it's target and with the force of a category four, it has flattened me.  I know these people.  They are kind, loving, and inclusive. They mean me no harm.  

3:00 pm arrives and I escape like a bee headed for the safety of the hive.  Sliding into my little black thing, I slowly accelerate and

disappear from their view.  Rounding the bay, my chest starts to loosen. My car is on auto-pilot headed home with the top down. Deliciousful fresh air rushes towards me and trickles down into my lungs. With each exhale, my mind slows and peace gently slides back in.

9:00 pm - Laying here, exhausted and unmoveable, I once again sense the gaping jaws of uncertainty coming up as I review this day. Uncertainty is a breeding ground for fear.  If I open the door, fear will rush in like a long-lost aunt and take over, smothering me with fake kisses and giving directives that keep me paralyzed and little. 

Like a slug, slowly sliding towards

it's protected evening hide out, I am keenly aware of this day closing it's door.   Practicing my controled breathing from years ago, I exhale my plea for understanding to the One who created me.  As I slowly slip towards sleep, I hear Him whisper, "O Crystal, trust me at all times.  Pour out your heart to me, for I am your refuge.  My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts and my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. I will work out my plan for your life! Your place here, for now, is not a mistake.  Neither is the way I made you." (I don't know if He ever speaks to you by stringing scripture together that you have memorized, but He often uses what I have memorized to speak to me.)  

The gift of another day has dawned.  Sauntering into

my studio, I converse with my Abba. Plopping into my purple chair, my eyes bounce to the top of the bookcase and I have my answer. 

If you are struggling with where you find yourself today and who you find your real self being, go find a place where you can be still; take a deep breath; close your eyes; and invite your Maker to confirm His plan for your life and who He made you to be. You won't regret your time with Him.

Until We Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Writing on the Walls; My Secret Addiction; and Un...

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Writing on the Walls; My Secret Addiction; and Un...: Picking up the permanent oil paint marker, I ascend the ladder till the popcorn ceiling is teasing my hair.  Pausing, like a lion...

Writing on the Walls; My Secret Addiction; and Untainted Truth

Picking up the permanent oil paint marker, I ascend the ladder till the popcorn ceiling is teasing my hair.  Pausing, like a lion about to conquer its prey, I perch and allow the anticipation of the first stroke to fully rise past the point of no return.  Without cognizant thought, my hand launches forward and the first stroke is applied to the wall.  Words appear in whimsical font.  Words stringing together into sentences that are important to my heart.  

I honestly don't know when this secret addiction with writing on things other than paper started, but it often overtakes me and I

find myself penning words on walls, chairs, tables, clothing, chalkboards,

globes, and pretty much anything that can be written on at all hours of the day and night.  It is my trademark. It is my way of conveying to the world the message of my heart.  How do you get your life message out to this world we reside in?

 

I used to think I was odd because of this writing addiction. Then I stumbled across a story in the Old Testament.  Seems God liked to write on walls also.  God reached through time and wrote on a King's wall with a human hand while the King and his party people watched. Talk about the ultimate in party surprises!?!  He interrupted their party to get their undivided attention and remind them of His sovereign truth regarding the items they were using to celebrate.  (I don't know about you, but that would certainly get my attention.)  He was warning them to stop their behavior; humble themselves; and return to Him. Unfortunately, the King did not take the writing on the wall seriously and He was dead by that evening. (If you want to read the story, it is in Daniel 5:1-30). 

What is it that God has made clear to you and you have chosen to ignore?  Maybe He hasn't written it on the wall, chalkboard, or chair but you know He is speaking untainted truth to you and you need to humble yourself and return to Him.  Why not stop right now and surrender.  He can be counted on to forgive and bathe you in His mercy and grace.  

Until We Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Unexpected Invitation; The Power of the Nose; and ...

The Plank-Eyed Girl: Unexpected Invitation; The Power of the Nose; and ...: Stepping out of my little black thing and unfolding to my full height of 5'6", a wisp of newness gently swir...

Unexpected Invitation; The Power of the Nose; and An Unforgettable Fragrance

Stepping out of my little black thing and unfolding to my full height of 5'6", a wisp of newness gently swirls around my being.  It leaves as fast as it arrived.  

Ignoring this brief encounter, I return to gathering my supplies from the trunk for my sweet friend's birthday celebration. 

It comes again. 

Pausing for a moment, I feel the warmth of it's arrival.  Inhaling deeply, I smell a faintly familiar aroma.  My mind quickly scans through the rolodex of familiar scents looking for memories that align and tell me what is happening. Unsure that it is what I think it is,  I return to gathering my things.  This current season has been relentlessly cold, wet, gray and lingering. I have my doubts that Mr. Winter will ever leave this place I call home.

Like a long-time friend however, it will not be ignored. It has arrived and is ushering out Mr. Winter.  Slowly sauntering across the driveway, it

unexpectedly comes again. It playfully encases me in a warm, wonderful tornado of deliciousful scents. Warm rain; damp earth; and freshly mowed grass are part of this wonderful, swirling mix of aromas invading my nose.     Dancing an enticing tango, it invites me to join in the celebration of it's arrival.

Sun is warming the driveway and highlighting the perfect dance floor. It is an invitation

that only comes once a year. Looking around, there is no one else physically present. Accepting the invitation, I step into the sunlit space. Like a newly hatched Monarch butterfly, I clumsily twirl across the driveway. I swirl  in a tango-like display with the invisible "Ms. Spring".  Her scents have reached my olfactory glands and invited me to "remember" her looks and the gifts that she will bring.

As humans, we have been  equipped by our Creator with amazing senses to help us connect to the world around us.  Our sense of smell is most closely linked with memory.  This is due to the fact that the olfactory bulb, which starts inside the nose and runs along the bottom of the rain and has two direct connections (the amygdala and hippocampus)to the areas of the brain that handle emotion and memories. None of the other senses pass through these brain areas.  As I inhaled these Spring scents, my brain told me to look around for other evidence that Spring was arriving.  I had memories of other Springs.

Every life has an aroma.  Have you ever stopped to ponder what the aroma of your life is?  After you leave a conversation, what are people left with?  When they think of you, what fragrance do your words leave?    Does the fragrance of Jesus linger when you walk away?  I want the fragrance of my life to be one that leaves an aroma of His sweet unmistakable presence.  I long to extend the scent of His mercy, grace, and forgiveness to those that are hurting.   Like Spring swirled and twirled and invited me to join her, will you join me in pursuing Christ so we can leave His fragrance all over this planet?

Until We Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl

2 Corinthians 2:15 (AMP)

For we are the sweet fragrance of Christ (which ascends) to God, (discernable both) among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.