God's Grace

This was a note I wrote on Facebook back in December, but it's been a train of thought for me again of late, so I thought I'd share it here:

I  was looking back through my timeline this morning, remembering the drama and craziness of college. Reminiscing about the people who have passed through my life for a season and I no longer keep in touch with, and also the ones who remain dear friends whether near or far.
Skimming through highlights of my life from the past seven years is strange--I forget so quickly the struggles, the times of tears, carrying a wounded spirit and a broken heart. And it's just as easy to forget the joys, the bright moments, the times of happiness and fun, and maturing into someone new. My time in college has started to blur together, and I have to remind myself that those three and a half years were a huge turning point in my life.
I went through a lot and came out the other side a better person, stronger, wiser, more sure of who I am in God. I don't want to forget how good God has been to me, how He walked with me as I went through counseling, challenged me to listen to Him over stupid people, called me to return to Him when I'd messed up, and just loved me where I was.
I'm thankful that He never gave up on me, even though I can be so stubborn and have a thick skull to get through. There were times where God pretty much had to beat me over the head repeatedly for me to be like, "Uh, I think you might be trying to tell me something, Lord?" I'm glad He's more stubborn and patient than I am!
The thing I am most thankful for is that I found my voice. I felt like I had no story, no great purpose to my life--I couldn't see how God was working. But looking back now, I can definitely see it. He was there, when I was a super shy freshman, when I went through an unhealthy relationship for two years, when I was figuring out being an artist, when I was juggling working full time and finishing school, and just figuring out how to be an adult. I couldn't see it at the time, being so caught up in the day to day of life.
But I'm starting to see how He has been directing my life, guiding my uncertain steps, leading me towards something good. And now I'm beginning a new chapter in my life. Not just getting married, though that's huge, but also stepping into new opportunities, accepting new challenges, considering new ideas and ways of doing things, and being open to God's leading down new roads. I don't want to let myself get hung up on the past, staying in a rut and not growing as a person. God wants more from me, I can feel it....and I'm willing to follow Him, to be open and willing to grow into a woman after His own heart (whatever that looks like). 

Church, tattoo convention, work party

That was my Sunday yesterday in chronological order. It was an interesting day to say the least.

10:00-11:30am
I love going to church. I've written about that before on here--how much I appreciate being able to go when I don't have to work. I don't know, I guess when you can't go (and not simply because you decided to sleep in) you realize how much you actually like it. My pastor just kicked off a series on generosity, which is always a needed reminder to not hold my possessions too tightly. To be honest, he could talk a lot longer and I would be happy to keep listening. He's low key and not over the top, but you can totally see his deep love for preaching God's Word. He's got a quiet yet intense passion for sharing God's Word. My week is always good if I can start if off with church.

2:30-5:30pm
My sister, Leah, and I went to the Minneapolis Tattoo Arts Convention, which wasn't as cool as you would think. My tattoo artists asked me to go and enter a contest for best female back piece. I've paid $20 to get into the MN Renaissance Festival, so I was expecting a little more for my money. This was the first tattoo convention I've ever been to, but Leah and I both weren't that impressed. It was kinda dingy, smelled like cigarette smoke (even though we were in a hotel), and there wasn't too much going on. It was definitely cool to look at all the portfolios--there are just some amazing tattoo artists out there! Unfortunately, the idea of good presentation was lost on some: Leah had one album falling apart in her hands as she turned the pages. I'm sorry, but if you don't care enough to present your work well, that reflects poorly on you as an artist and makes me question your care when inking somebody. I may be a bit biased but Beloved Studios, in my opinion, totally gets that. They had lovely look books for the three artists that were there.

So, I entered the contest...and did not win. But the pieces that beat me out were AMAZING! The lady who won first place had this fantastic full back tattoo (I'm talking from the tops of her shoulders to just above her butt). It was a tiger with a Japanese inspired landscape behind it; the thing looked like a painting, it was so rich and vibrant. She just looked like a an average middle aged Minnesotan, and then, bam!, crazy amazing tattoo. Kudos to you, lady!

Leah did find a vendor who sells some awesome earrings of the kind she likes.

It was cool to see all the awesome tattoos that were being shown off for the contests, but the announcer had such a foul mouth. I'm like, "Really?! This is a public venue--you're not sitting around drinking with your buddies. A little professionalism would be nice." It just amazes me the derogatory things directed at them that women will laugh at. But apparently that is the prevalent view for the types of people who were there. It saddens me that so many women accept that as normal and okay.

I wanted to show off my back without being immodest; it took me quite a while to find a shirt that covered me completely in the front. I'm proud of my tattoo and want people to see it, but I'm not going to walk around half naked to do so. Unfortunately, I seem to be in the minority. I respect myself and expect others to treat me respectfully as well. I'm also not going to go out scantily clad either. Part of getting respect is dressing like I deserve it. Anyways.

The best part of the whole thing was that I found an awesome birthday present for my other sister, Hannah. It's something you would not expect to find at a tattoo convention at all, yet it fits her to a T. And yes, her birthday isn't until October. What can I say, if I find something I know people will like, I just buy it and hang onto it.

So, I can say I've been to a tattoo convention, but I definitely won't attend that particular one again. It just wasn't worth $20 to get in and then pay $10 to enter a contest. Mainly I just went to support Beloved and show off their awesome work.

And part of me is like, why would you want to get a tattoo in that environment? You're only going to be able to get something small, because you have limited time. It's a loud, distracting, crowded place. At least for me, if I'm going to be getting needles stabbed into my skin, I'd prefer it to be somewhere more private and less chaotic. If I really like a particular artist and want to get a piece done by them, I'll save up my money and travel to wherever their shop is.

7:00-11:00pm
Yes, it was a Christmas party in January. When you work in retail, there's no way you could close early in December to throw your employees a holiday bash. It's actually pretty nice to have it now: the holidays are over, it's not so insane at work, people are more relaxed and in the mood to have fun. Half Price rented out a banquet hall at Grumpy's in Roseville. I thought it was nice and had a great time. I rarely see my co-workers outside of our job, so it was great to hang out and not have to talk about work related stuff. No grumpy customers, no bodily fluids to clean up, no massive book buys to sort through....just food and good company. I invited a former co-worker to come as my guest, and it was so awesome to see her! It was a great evening of hanging out and laughing a lot. I really am blessed to work at a place where I get along with all my co-workers so well. There can be so much drama in some work places, but at my store we tend to laugh more than anything.

It was a very full Sunday to say the least!

My Wings

way more awesome than my original idea

I recently fulfilled a long awaited life goal: getting a tattoo of wings on my back. And when I say "long awaited," it's been at least 10 years that I've been thinking about it (so, yes, starting when I was around 13). I originally only asked for basic black and white angel-type wings, simply because I couldn't think of what colors I would want. Brandon Heffron and Dan Claessens of Beloved Studios collaborated and came up with this amazing design; they each picked a side and worked on me in tandem (two people tattooing at once actually hurts less, I think). It took three sessions for a total of 11.5 hours: the first was the black outline, the second was most of the color, and the last was adding the highlights, shadows and finishing touches. You can take a look at a picture from after the first sitting to see how quickly they worked.

I had multiple people (other tattoo artists and customers at Beloved) come through to check out my back as it was getting worked on. They were amazed at how big and epic I was going for my first tattoo. Apparently, teeny tiny is the norm for your first, but I didn't want piddly little chibi wings on my shoulder blades. Visitors would comment how painful it must be and how hardcore I was. Actually it really didn't hurt that much (except for at the end of the second session). I may look delicate, but I have a really high pain tolerance. Getting a spinal tap, having lots of blood drawn, breaking numerous bones and enduring several EMGs over the years has helped me build up my pain endurance.

"So you sat through multiple tattoo sessions for some colorful wings? Aren't angel wings kinda cliche?" you might be thinking at this point. Sure, it is a common tattoo motif, but my wings have a long story behind them and hold a lot of meaning for me. The super short cliff notes answer is the wings are a potent symbol of hope and God's grace and mercy in my life. The Lord of the Rings length version (which I will edit here, don't worry) starts sad and dark but ends hopeful and triumphant. Brandon and Dan don't even know the history behind my wings, but they added elements to the design that illustrate my story even more.

I have told few people what I'm about to tell you, but I think it's time I share this more publicly. I am a living testament to the reality of God. I know God is real, beyond a shadow of a doubt, because of what I've gone through, the good and the evil.

I was repeatedly sexually abused by my best friend's older brother when I was a little kid (under the age of 9). I won't go into all the details (frankly, because I don't remember everything), but I know I was molested at least several times over the years. Anyways, I completely blocked those memories, didn't even recall that it had happened....until it all literally came crashing back into my consciousness one winter night when I was eleven. I didn’t know how to talk about what had happened; and as a kid, thought that I would get in trouble if I said anything. So I didn't tell anyone about it for years. I got really depressed and had what I later figured out were panic attacks at night. It took me hours to get to sleep sometimes, fear and shame and panic would knot my stomach. When I moved into my own room, I had to have a night light by the door; I couldn’t walk down into the basement without a light on, because the dark would feel so oppressive and scary. Some nights I just couldn't turn to face the wall because I felt like SOMETHING was lurking outside my door and would get me if I let my guard down. As a 14-year-old you don’t want to admit to anyone you’re afraid of the dark.

I just wanted the fear, shame, guilt and utter loneliness to end. I hid it really well though—friends, family, no one knew the pain I was carrying around. I just didn’t have the words and tried to stuff the memories away as I went about my daily life.

Occasionally from when I was around 11 to maybe 15 years old, I would have these dreams where I would be flying. I usually don't remember my dreams, but I can recall these ones in crystal clear clarity. I always felt better when I woke up from a flying dream, it was like a little candle lit in a dark room. I would feel some quiet hope that the darkness and pain wouldn't last forever. But eventually the feeling would pass and I'd just feel the heaviness again.

And it’s not like I was a walking wraith or something. I went to school, church, youth group, babysat for people, took Driver’s Ed, normal teen stuff. I did have fun and have many good memories from my early teen years…but there was always this burden I was carrying around that I couldn’t get rid of. And at night, there was nothing to block out or distract me from the overwhelming fear I felt. I tried to pray it away, but what I needed to do was reach out to someone. I couldn’t deal with it myself.

The summer I was 15, I had come to the end of my rope. I just wanted to give up, I couldn’t take it anymore; I felt so isolated and alone. Sometimes I forget what a low place I was in then. The night before I left for this two week trip, I remember just being at my absolute wit's end. I wrote down a prayer (which I still have somewhere), just crying out from the depths of my heart. Pretty much I was like, "God, if you don't help me right now and do something to change this, I'm done. I can't do this, I can't carry this weight anymore. I don't know what to do or where to turn, but you need to do something over these next two weeks." And He answered that prayer far more than I could have imagined. That trip literally saved my life.

If I hadn't gone, I don't think I would be here today. God opened the wounds of my heart and started the healing process. I had an amazing youth leader that talked with me for hours every night. If not for her, I wouldn't have started dealing with my past. I told her what had happened to me, and she just hugged me and let me cry. I realized what had happened to me wasn't my fault, that I didn't need to feel guilty or ashamed. To just open up and tell someone and be accepted not rejected...my heart had been crying out for that.

The reason I use pendulum.and.fire as a user name online is from that trip. The name of the worship time we had one night was called Pendulums and Fire. The point was that most people are like pendulums--they swing back and forth between being hot and cold for God. We need to be like a steady burning fire, a hot ember even. It's not what our "feelings" are but Who our hearts belong to that determines our Christian walk. We need to grab onto God and not let go, no matter what. That night has stuck with me since that summer in 2002. I felt God's presence like I never have in my life. I could literally feel the weight of the Holy Spirit filling that room, filling me. It wasn't just a "mood" or a "feeling," Jesus touched my heart that night and I have never been the same since. Whenever I feel doubt about God's presence in my life, I just point myself back to that night. If I never experience anything supernatural in my life again, that one night is proof enough for me of who God is and that He is near. Satan has tried to drag me down to where I think God isn't involved in my life or doesn't really care, but all I need to do is look back on that night and see the truth.

So, my life was completely changed. I came back a different person. Some people get on an emotional high (and I would see it all the time in youth group) and then when the conference is over, within a week or two it's back to business as usual. My youth leader friend commented about that over two years later: she said, "You never came down from that because it wasn't an emotional 'high,' God brought you to a new place."

My wings are a testament of God's healing grace and love in my life.

They are also a reminder of Isaiah 40, especially verse 31: "but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not faint."

And over the last 7 years as I've had to deal with health problems, my wings also speak to me of the hope I have for the future. That one day I (and Andrew, my brother) won't be sick. Andrew won’t have multiple diseases, innumerable drugs to take, illness to endure. I won’t limp around with wasted legs and painful joints, having to ration my energy. We will run through the fields of Heaven, never worrying about having to take drugs or getting tired out from walking up stairs. If I didn’t have that hope, this life would be completely unbearable. What is the point of a life of pain and sickness and misery and then you die, and that’s it? No, I have a hope and a future! Jesus said there is something to look forward to after death, and I believe that with all my heart.

So, my wings speak to me of the past, where I have been and where God has brought me from; they speak of the present, God's grace and sustaining power for what I endure today; and they speak of the future, a hope in what is unseen and not yet, a glorious resurrection and ultimate healing. That is the story my wings tell.