My Angel of Comfort and Courage

When I was pregnant with my first and went into labor at 26 weeks to say I was terrified is an understatement.  I was frozen, I was lost but somehow I managed to pull it together and began fighting for both my daughter and my lives.  I am incredibly grateful and blessed that 3 years later, Grace is the picture of a healthy,  happy and flourishing child.

There were many times though that I questioned if I would ever see her take her first breath. I wondered if she did survive, if she would be healthy, if she would develop properly, if she would be able to have a "normal" life. And being on bedrest I had plenty of time to go through every possible scenario in my head. Worry, anxiety, frustration and depression loomed over my head constantly and heavily. And as the complications piled up, the pain and discomfort intensified and the risks began to increase. I was feeling disconnected and bracing myself for the worst. I didnt know how or where I would find the courage and strength to make it through my pregnancy without a nervous breakdown.

Cue my angel.

One night in the hospital I was trying to sleep and rest in hopes that the contractions would stop; I had a dream that would change not only my attitude but my faith. In my dream I went into my daughters room in the middle of the night in a panic, my heart heavy just knowing something was wrong. I felt out of control and scared. When I finally opened the door I stopped in my tracks and instantly felt peace. I was looking at my daughter, tucked in bed, sweetly smiling and perfectly content, kneeling next to her was my sister-in-law Tish. With a quick glance, an all knowing smile and slight eyeroll Tish told me to "go back to bed and rest, we're doing fine."

I woke up feeling a rush of comfort, peace and excitement. My daughter was perfect, she was healthy and while she was physically growing in my stomach, she was being spiritually grown and protected by her Aunt and her Heavenly Father. I still smile and fight a tear when I think of that moment. In some of my darkest hours God showed His mercy and love to me. He showed His power and His promise.  He reminded me I was not fighting alone.

Our daughter was born after 10 weeks on bedrest. She was perfect.  We named her Grace Tish, it means "Mercy or Blessing of Joy and Delight." There could not be a more fitting name for her.

I was brought to these memories tonight as I am awake, pregnant, on bedrest and facing more complications.  I'm trying to stay positive, I'm relying on the comfort and faith I have that this baby is a purposeful gift from God. But I will be honest, I'm still scared, I'm still worried and I am anxious to see my child and know that he/she is okay. It can still be overwhelming at times. But God knows when I need my angel.

I woke up sick, and made my way to the couch with a cup of tea. Feeling physically miserable, and mentally defeated  my mind started to wander to places that do me no good. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw our family memory book to celebrate Tish, as I read the quotes she loved, and stared at the pictures of her sure and confident smile I began to feel comfort. The baby began kicking and I remembered who it is that is holding my baby right now. So if I couldn't get emotional enough, or in case God thought I needed one more reassurance, Grace walked out of her room at 4 am while I wrote this post. She slept on her arm wrong and needed me to rub it and give her a hug.

As I tucked her back in bed, knelt beside her and brushed the hair out of her face, I whispered "go to sleep and get some rest, we're doing fine."

Somebody Tell Them

My assignment yesterday was to share a song from the soundtrack of my life with my fellow starters. I thought long and hard, scrolled through several playlists and finally just opened up Shazam to see what songs had spoken to me recently. The first song listed was by City Harbor and was titled "Somebody Tell Them."

I listened to it again, and as my eyes filled with tears I realized that the message of this song is what God is calling me to write about. I have struggled with understanding what kind of blog I have, but looking at previous posts, it's evident to me now what God is asking me to do. My personal experiences, reflections and most intimate questions and challenges need to be exposed to encourage others who are experiencing similar things, but in the dark. For most of my life I suppressed the truths of my life for fear of rejection, inadequacy and doubt of my own self-worth. Then when I wrote about my struggles and lingering questions, the most amazing thing happened: I felt free, I felt accepted and I felt valuable.

I have received many notes of encouragement to keep writing, to keep sharing and keep encouraging. These notes mean so much to me and I humbly accept them but want to clearly put it out there that every blog I write, I do so because I have felt prompted that someone out there is waiting for me to tell them that it's all going to be okay and that they are not alone.

Thank you so much for your support and feedback. I truly appreciate the opportunity to share and encourage those who don't have the courage to ask. At the end of the day we are all children of God, and we are loved more then we know how to understand or accept.

Have a wonderful day and maybe think of a way you can share encouragement with someone today!

What am I doing this for?

For months I have been desiring to blog more. I have hesitated and procrastinated because of fear. Fear of judgment, criticism, not having anything valuable to say and rejection. These fears are stupid, unfounded but unfortunately they have ruled my brain.

This month I began a 24 day challenge to start writing more, conquer my fears and figure out exactly what it is my hear is desiring to say. I am currently on day nine, and I will just say the first week was rough.

The first few days I was doing great, I was motivated, excited and confident. But then I was faced with the reality of my life. I am busy, I am pulled in multiple directions and quite honestly I have been using so much of my mental energy on school. I just got overwhelmed and tried to put it all on the back burner.

An environment change seemed to be just what I needed though to get back on track. For the last 4 days I have been a sponsor for our middle school youth group at their summer camp. I am here to encourage them, disciple them and support them. (Oh and make sure they are in bed on time lol) What is great about this week beyond the kids, is that I have a lot of free time each day in a beautiful God centered space. Needless to say this has given me a lot of time to reflect and ask God what exactly I am supposed to do with this blog.

So I am sitting and pondering the question, "what am I doing this for?" Why do I feel the desire to write? What am I trying to say? Where do I want this blog to go? How can I impact others and speak God's truths?

I don't have the answers, but I am at least glad to be asking the question. My next step is to evaluate each question and keep moving forward with my writing efforts.

What are some of the areas that fear holds you back? What are the questions or actions that you can use to move forward to conquer your fears?

Parent Fail.

Relatively speaking Grace is an easy child. I say relative, because for us that includes her boundless energy, lack of fear and the ability to make us laugh instead of yell during one of her mischievous adventures. She was a great baby, eating and sleeping well. She transitioned to solid foods like a champ and began sleeping in a big girl bed with no problems. Most recently she made great strides in potty training. Once she is ready to learn something it just clicks.

So when she all of a sudden started having "accidents" in her underwear over the last 2 weeks both Paul and I grew frustrated and impatient with her. We knew she was capable of using the bathroom, she had been doing so well and it just felt like she didn't care anymore. We were disappointed and discouraged. We tried to remain calm and encouraging with her, we tried new rewards and incentives, we structured her schedule and got her back into her routine. It wasn't working, she was still having accidents and acting like it was out of her control.

Because it was out of her control.

Today I started piecing together her behaviors and symptoms and it hit me like a ton of bricks. My child wasn't regressing, rebelling or being plain stubborn; she had a urinary infection. I called the doctor, jumped through some hoops and got her a same day appointment. The doctor confirmed what my instincts were screaming. We picked up some antibiotics and headed home.

At the end of the day, Paul and I felt the same way; we had been too harsh on her. We let our frustration and our expectations take over our reactions and we were simply too hard on her. We apologized to her, told her that we make mistakes too and made sure she got extra cuddles tonight before bed. As badly as I feel, I won't beat myself up over it; instead I will try to learn from this experience. My intentions were good, I believed in my child and her capabilities. My failure came when I reacted before looking at the situation fully.

These are the days where I realize just how hard being a parent can be. 

No risk, no reward

A couple of weeks ago I was gathering books to share with our Financial Peace University class. While going through the bookshelves to pick them all out I became distracted and stuck. I had come across my very first diary. Using my best lock picking skills and a bobby pin I forced open the book and began reading.

The diary started the summer before 4th grade, right before I left for my first summer at camp. The book was filled with scribbled writings, poems, love letters, even some dried roses pressed between pages. It ends at the summer before middle school. (All 7th graders back then kept their journal in a black and white composition notebook of course) Most of the writings were daily accounts of the drama and excitement of my life. I was an active, social, and average preteen. What struck me though, is I had a habit of writing almost everyday.

I began to reflect on my lifelong hobby and my therapeutic use of writing. As long as I can remember I have kept a journal. Writing my thoughts down allows me to organize them and have a better chance at understanding them. But it's always my secret place.

Over the last year, however, I have begun to share my stories and thoughts. I have found that by putting my questions, realizations and personal experiences in a blog that not only am I freeing myself of them but I have been able to touch others with my story. I recently shared my darkest memories and deepest wounds with the world. The relief I felt and the encouragement I received have fueled a desire for me to share more.

So that brings me to this post. A few weeks ago I was challenged by Jon Acuff to join him on an adventure. There were no details, no explanations - just the expectation that it would last 24 days and would be an experience to push me out of my comfort zone and into greatness. I accepted.

Now I know that my personal challenge for the next 24 days, starting tomorrow, is to let go of my fear and start sharing my blog postings more regularly. It's time to be vulnerable, honest, and true to myself. I hope you join me on this journey. Read my blog, provide constructive or positive feedback and be praying for me along the way. I appreciate all the support and encouragement and look forward to this opportunity for growth.

Night Terrors and Mommy Fears

Grace has been occasionally having night terrors for the last year and a half. I typically wake up to her screaming and sobbing, usually sitting in bed and appearing to be awake yet she has no awareness of her surroundings or my presence. There is little I can do to comfort her - mostly I rub her forehead and speak calming words to her until she calms down and falls back asleep. I feel helpless, horrified and heart broken. 

The next morning Grace will wake up bounding with energy and acting like her happy go lucky two year old self. Meanwhile, I am exhausted from not sleeping, because even after she falls back asleep, I lie awake, praying for her peace and comfort, wondering what she was dreaming, googling how to prevent it etc etc. She doesn't remember anything, and I remember everything.

That's what fear does though. It gets inside of us, it grows and can eventually consume us. I know that there are nights that I will wake up to her cry and by the time I am falling back asleep I have gone through every possible bad thing that could ever happen to her. Fear does that. It robs us of our comfort, our peace and our strength. 

It's natural for fear to come easily in parenthood, after all being responsible for the physical, emotional and spiritual well being of another human is scary. But fear will gladly infiltrate every other area of our life. Our relationships, our jobs, school, our daily life and our faith. 

So how do we conquer fear? The only answer for me is God. He is the only one who can promise to relieve my fears and actually deliver. The bible has tons of scripture about fear, in fact it's what we are talking about at VBS this week: Facing Fear and Trusting God. But I keep coming back to the scripture that seems to provide me with comfort, hope, encouragement and peace in every situation. 

"If God is for us, who can be against us?" Romans 8:31

It's pretty direct, it's a promise and it conquers all fear. I hate that Grace has night terrors, but she has God caring for her, and He blesses her every time she wakes with no memory of the horrible night. I have fears daily, but I am blessed by God every time I remember that He is here for me. None of my fears are bigger than Him. 

Now, the hard part is what we are teaching the kids this week, trusting God. It's not natural to relinquish our sense of control and our own pride when it comes to turning our fears over to God. But it is absolutely necessary. We can't expect Him to do the work in us that He has promised if we won't give Him the control. So this week as we challenge the kids to face their fears and trust God, it's a great reminder for me to do the exact same. 

"Hello, My Name Is"

A close and special friend of mine tonight thanked me tonight for being honest with her. Not good friend-I'll tell you the truth as long as it doesn't get too deep- honest, but genuine soul and scar revealing honesty.  About a year ago I began telling my story to my family, and now I am ready to take off the mask for everyone. 

As far back as I can remember I have struggled with my identity. My childhood was messed up. There was neglect, abandonment, verbal abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, insecurity, and self-destructive behaviors. The "damage" was caused by both my parents. Some might speculate that it was my father mostly; he was a drug addict, horrible to my mother and gone most of the time. He made false promises, disappointed me constantly and hurt me deeply. But if I am being brutally honest, it was my mother that left the deepest scars on me.  

For the last 26 years I believed my mother didn't love me, but I was wrong. I have learned over the last two years that my mother is incapable of love. So before I share my experience I want to be very clear about this: I love my mother. I pray for her, I desperately want her to get the help she needs. I pray that God would restore her heart and heal her. Unfortunately until that process begins inside of her we are unable to have a relationship. 

My earliest memories of my mother are from when I was four years old. My father was using heavily and I had a new baby sister. My mother was broken. She was incredibly depressed, lonely and living in her own world.  I have distinct memories of her staring out the window for days. She wouldn't speak, let alone take care of my sister or I. At four years old I began to grow up. I changed diapers, fixed meals and bottles and kept my sister from danger. My grandparents would come get us at times and when we would go to their house I got to be a kid. This began a pattern of my relationship with my mother Doni. Over the years she would pull herself together, then when she would get overwhelmed or her world would fall apart, we would go back to my grandparents. 

Most of my memories from my time with Doni are easy for me to recall and horribly painful to relive. I felt like I was the black cloud in her life. I loved my father, I missed him and that made her angry and sad. I loved my grandparents and missed them, that made her angry and resentful of my relationship with them. But most of all I hated her. I hated that she used me to take care of her and my sister. I hated that she would bring up memories or pick fights with me just to make me upset and as miserable as her. I remember so many times having to hang up the phone with her or leave the room because she would push me to an anxiety attack. Her boyfriends were a nightmare. They were sleazy, scummy and users. They would verbally assault me, taunt and torment me and there were several times that one of them would hit me.  She didn't believe me. She let it happen. 

Becoming a teenager was hard. The good news was I was living full time with my grandparents. I had to go visit on breaks though. She lived in California so it's not like I could go a weekend at a time. Things would always be okay the first week or two but it was inevitable that crap would hit the fan. Every fight we got into was worse than the one before. I was so angry and resentful to her. She felt the same toward me. 

I was confused, hurt and I honestly just didn't understand why she hated me so much and yet she was a completely different person to my sister. I struggled with insecurity, abandonment, co-dependency and self-worth from the age of 14. At 16 I decided that if my own parents couldn't love me, I must not be worth it. I attempted to take my own life. 

I thank God constantly for the blessing of life He gave me. I was not successful in my attempt and after a stomach pump, in-patient therapy and tons of counseling I made the decision to give myself a chance. I worked very hard in therapy. I had to face the ugliness of not just my childhood but of the person I had become. Over the years I used coping and survival skills that were not healthy or representative of the person I actually wanted to be. I used alcohol, sex, manipulation, guilt, money and food to attempt to fill the hole in my heart. I would do anything and everything to gain attention and affection. I would hurt the people closest to me when I suspected they might be on the verge of seeing my ugliness and leaving. I put on a mask.

I wore that mask for so long that I actually began to believe it was who I was. I believed I was a manipulative unlovable person. Then I got to know someone that would change not only my life, but me from the inside out. I gave my heart, in all it's shattered pieces, to God. I asked for forgiveness, redemption and love. God gave those things to me immediately and completely, it just took me some time to actually accept and receive them. I questioned His faithfulness and sincerity. But finally I felt peace. I felt relief. I felt love and I felt whole. My life verse is Romans 8:31 "If God is for us; who can be against us?" For the first time in my life, at 27 years old I fully and completely trusted that not only was I loveable but God created me in His image; His image!!! I was no longer the broken child of my past.

Once I got to know the person that God created me to be I began on letting go of the demons of my past. I am still in therapy today, I still struggle with anxiety and depression. I have reclaimed most of my life and repaired several important relationships. The one relationship I don't feel capable to reclaim is the one with Doni. 

Two years ago I had to set boundaries with Doni because her frequent outbursts and dramatic fights were upsetting and triggering the post traumatic stress responses from my childhood. It wasn't healthy for me to be so overwhelmed and overstimulated while going through therapy and learning how to be a new wife and mother. I asked her for simple boundaries: please don't bring up the past and please don't involve yourself in my other relationship (the ones I hold with my father, sister, grandmother etc) Sadly, she not only refused but had another dramatic meltdown. I remained hopeful that she would calm down and we could someday move forward. I stayed quiet about my "side" of the story. I didn't want to add fuel to the fire and well no one knew about my childhood so how would they understand me now? We didn't speak for two years. I reached out. I sent pictures of Grace, I sent texts, I added her on Facebook. I was trying. I didn't get a single reply.

The final straw was a week before Easter. Doni unexpectedly moved back to Oregon. I was upset at first, mostly because I am pregnant and I really am not in a position for extra stress. But I knew how hard it was on my family that we were not speaking so I reached out again. I offered to go to coffee or counseling, what ever she wanted. She refused me again. It was at that moment that I accepted the fact that my mother does not want to fix things with me. She does not want a relationship with me or my children. It confirmed all my feelings and instincts as a child that she cannot love me enough to give up her resentment and anger. 

I'm sorry that my family is hurt by all of this. I hate that my grandmother and sister are in the middle. But I am also sorry that no one knows how this is hurting me. My childhood was much more difficult than I ever let on, I still have deep secrets and scars. I desperately desire a relationship with my mother. My heart is broken that it is likely I will never have one.

If you've read this far, I have one request. Please keep me and Doni in your prayers. My wounds are still hurting but they are also healing. I am not going to be silent anymore. My name is no longer regret and it's no longer defeat. 

My name is Cassey, I am wife, mother, friend, daughter, sister, cousin, niece, and a child of God.