identifiably and tragically changed

I've spent the last several days really doing some soul searching. Recent events drove this to a top priority level on the necessity scale. You know, when you sit and try to figure things out and you just can't wrap your brain around that thing? Certain situations have made me think so hard, probably over-thinking, but really trying to process what I'm taking in. It's almost as if the motor in my brain is overheating—I've fried everything just trying to figure this thing out. I've literally expelled all my energy, emotionally and mentally just trying to make sense of this thing.

I had a good long cry the other night. A trillion and one little thoughts ranging from "I'm a freak" to "what's for supper" to "I just don't get it" to "what did I do so wrong" to "why did A do this" and "why did B do that to "I could eat a donut right now". I know, right? Insane. There are times, I admit, when my brain just flails out of control. But these tears were accompanied with this feeling that I was sort of washing out some of the hurt; the rest will heal over time. It's been a while since I cried. (Which is kind of weird.) Sadly my emotions as of late come out via the anger channel. A sarcastic quip, or raised voice, or angry combative exchange of words. The emotion has to get out—I'd explode otherwise. But why yell at my kids when its not the kids I'm upset with.  Or why be angry when you're really just sad? So I cried. And I felt better.

Along with the tears came something which really helped more than anything. The truth. That moment when I was able to name the reason I felt the way I did. Tangled up with that, was also where I owned the responsibility for my thoughts, actions, and inaction. That equals some level of freedom for sure. Allowing myself to verbalize the truth or identifying the root of the issue also allows me to breathe. When that brief moment of clarity snapped for me, it helped this situation make a little more sense. I have to stop looking at why "so in so" does this or "so in so" does that. I have to look at me.

I can't hide the fact that events in life have led me to fashion this little "fortress of solitude" around my little heart. We all do it. It's safe. But for me, it's like I literally cut-off the lifeline to my heart. Nothing in and nothing out. Sometimes I feel like that little heart became cold, dead, and black. Is that normal? Well, I can't speak to what normal is exactly, but I do think it makes sense. I suppose after a person has been broken, you'd be crazy to think that they'd remain the same after being put back together. Look at Humpty Dumpty; all the kings' horses and all the kings' men could not put him together again.

 

My heart suffered a tragic accident. The recovery is taking for-ev-er. I've made great progress, but I've also run into many obstacles that set the recovery back a few steps. It's painful and incredibly frustrating. When will I be strong enough to forget? How can I define myself in other ways, without considering the accident? When will people realize that their cure to everything doesn't always make sense to me. What a completely frustrating and trying process. And what if I go through this refining process of sorts only to learn that I'm just part of the dross?

I have been identifiably and tragically changed. I'm not the same; I am the one that has changed. I'm not the same person I was three years ago, not the same person I was five years ago or even a year ago. If I recognize change in certain situations, it's because I have changed, not necessarily anyone else. And while the change is good in many instances, my change is also tragic by definition which speaks to the depth of those alterations. Healthy growth of the human heart and soul is desirable and recommended. With those healthy changes also come the not so healthy. But I'm sure it's safe to say that this is something all humans deal with. That whole "you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there ya have, the facts of life" thing.

So it's me that has changed and it's me that needs to make changes. It rests on me. Honestly, I'm just out of energy. Spinning my wheels in directions that I'm not meant to go in and on things that aren't a reality for me. I'm not done with this soul searching; there is still much to decipher. No, I don't believe that I'm a waste. I firmly believe that I am a work in progress and I have a lot of questions along the way. I'm not afraid to ask them and I'm not afraid to be honest. It helps me live this crazy life of mine and be who I was created to be!

It is nice to open my eyes in the morning and know that I'm not who I was yesterday, but I'm who I was created to be today. The junk from yesterday is gone, I let it go. That's the best I can do for now. Today is a new day.

When life hands you bananas…

...make a banana oatmeal almond smoothie, duh. 

I stumbled upon a recipe that I have been absolutely desperate to try. Finally was able to assemble the concoction this morning. Wowzer! This combo is absolutely yum-o-luscious. 

Now, I did review the recipe, but upon further review, I did not follow it correctly—imagine that! I realized that I was supposed to cook the oatmeal first. I didn't cook the oatmeal. Oops. The directions said to add the ice last, but I read "pour all ingredients in blender" and didn't finish the sentence. When cooking, always read the entire recipe FIRST. I literally poured all ingredients in and well, nearly killed the blender. Smoke started coming out of the back and I thought to myself "huh, maybe I should turn it off?" Ya think? I guess I almost blew the motor which filled my home with a disgusting odor. I kinda made a mess too, slinging this banana creation all over the kitchen. Oh boy. But I did spare my clothing even though I was not donning a cutesy apron.

Having the recipe and following the recipe and two different things for me. How true to life is that? Extremely. The recipe for disaster is one that I'm very good at. I'm a pro at the cataclysmic! The recipe for the joyous? Ah well, I struggle with that. You know what makes me happy? Eating is one of those things that make me happy. But the older I get, the more obvious it is that I need to rehabilitate my eating habits. There's nothing wrong with food making me happy. Food is fantastic; I've always loved it and I always will. It's more what I eat, not that I eat. I've had fun looking for creative, fun, colorful, and health-full recipes.

This is a fun recipe I found and it's too good not to share. I can attest to the fact that the finished product was yum-o and semi-healthy. 

Banana Oatmeal Smoothie Recipe

 

Ingredients: 

• 2   whole Chiquita Bananas (best with brown flecks on peel) 
• 2   cups Ice
• 1/3   cup Yogurt - preferably Greek yogurt flavored with honey
• 1/2   cup Cooked oatmeal
• 1/3   cup Almonds 

Pour all ingredients in blender pouring ice in last. Blend on high for 30 seconds or until smoothie thickens. 

Nutrition Information per Serving: Calories 380; Total Fat 15 g (Sat 2 g, Trans 0 g, Poly 4 g, Mono 8 g); Cholesterol 5 mg; Sodium 35 mg; Potassium 690 mg; Total Carbohydrates 53 g; Dietary Fiber 9 g; Total Sugars 19 g; Protein 12 g. Percent Daily Value: Vitamin A 2%; Vitamin B6 25%; Vitamin C 20%; Vitamin D 0%; Calcium 15%, Iron 15%. 

 

Found the full recipe at http://www.chiquitabananas.com.

“CANNON BALL!”

It was a beautiful afternoon. The air was light and cool. The sun was bright and warm. As I sat by the crystal clear water, I closed my eyes and inhaled as much of the mountain air as could fit in my lungs. Filled to capacity, I exhaled.

I imagined myself walking back up the trail, stopping, turning and running right back down the hill, through the trees and leaping off the dock, tucking in and shouting "cannon ball" as I catapulted myself into the water.

Honestly, I wanted to! I wanted so bad to jump in. I wanted to literally be washed by the water. But fear got the best of me. You see, the day before, I had kinda -sorta witnessed a friend falling in that very water. The coldness literally took his breath away! The sounds I heard as he couldn't even utter a word as the cold water stripped away even his ability to move, played through my head and I began making my decision not to cannon ball in. Of course, the fact that I had even witnessed earlier that day another friend falling into the "river" that lead to the body of water I now sat beside and how cold my feet and legs were as I attempted to save her from being swept down the roaring rapids… okay, that's not entirely true, but it's way more fun to tell it that way!

That water was cold! And as you can see, I talked myself out of the grandiose cannon ball. But I really wanted to! In my mind, I ran down that hill, through the trees and leapt off the dock, tucked and shouted "CANNON BALL" and was washed over completely by the crystal clear water.

Since the cannon ball was out, I laid down on the dock beside the still water. The warm sun on my face, the cool breeze swept over me. In the distance, I could hear the familiar sounds of my friends. Laughter and chatter, it was comforting. I smiled and reveled in the glory of the love all around me.

I was comfortable. I was relaxed for the first time in a very long time. I wasn't worried about the grizzly bears that could be stalking the forest behind me, or the snakes that were surely hidden under the canoe beside me, or the monster of the lake that surely was watching, ready to rise up, opening his enormous jaws and devour me along with the entire dock with one giant motion.

I was able to shut all the "what if's" and fears out. I started listening for Jesus. At any moment, he was going to walk up and sit down with me. The sounds of the water flowing against the rocks, the birds above me, and the insects around— that is all I heard. Patiently I waited.

As the wind gently moved around me, it carried a wave of peace that flowed over me. At the moment, I knew He was there. It's happened before; I recognized my friend was with me. Laying there on the dock, with the sun high above, I kept my eyes closed.

    "I knew you'd come," I whispered.

    "And I knew you'd be here," he replied.

    "What now?" is all I could muster.

A long pause.

    "Will you follow me?" He asked.

    "Yes. But where are we going?" I knew I shouldn't have asked and I was mad at myself for asking.

Another pause.

    "Will you follow me?" He asked again, His voice so calm and peaceful.

I really wanted to see Him. Like a child peeking during a game of hide'n'seek, I peeked through one squinted eye. I knew he was sitting on the bench, across the dock from me. He was within 2 feet of me… I just knew I'd see Him.

    "I want to follow you, but can't you tell me where we're going?" I sheepishly asked again.

Yet another pause.

And as the wind blew across my face and peace flooded my heart, I heard "Melissa, just follow me." With that, I knew this moment was simply for my answer.

Again, I pictured myself walking back up the trail, stopping, turning and running right back down the hill, through the trees and leaping off the dock , tucking in and shouting "cannon ball" as I catapulted myself into the water… and this time I pictured Him going with me.

    "Do you want me to cannon ball into this cold water? If you do, I'm all in. I'll do it! You know I will."

He smiled and laughed at me. Quietly, we sat together, enjoying the one another's company and enjoying the divine creation all around us.

As much as I wanted to, my fears ultimately kept me from doing the whole cannon ball thing. Plus, I didn't really think it would be the smartest move to make and no, I didn't get the sense that "that" was what He was telling me. But I got the point. He was asking me if I was willing to do that which seems crazy to me and to others. He wanted to know if I was all in, or just kinda-sorta in.

It would have been fitting if I had done the cannon ball thing and that would have been a moment only He and I would have understood. My friends who were just a few yards away would have thought I had completely lost my mind! (To be honest, I would have questioned my own sanity.)

What is He calling you to do? And perhaps the more important question isn't the "what" but the "will". Will you follow? Will you lay down the fears and let the questions go? We don't need the "who, what, when, where, why?" thing going on BEFORE we answer. Honestly, I kinda-sorta think we need to say "YES!" first, no questions asked.

    "C A N N O N B A L L !" {splash-gasp-gulp-burrrr}

Maybe I should go all William Wallace/Braveheart and shout… shout it with me… F R E E D O M! Because that is what the whole cannon ball thing represents to me.

True, pure, unfiltered, unabashed, unashamed, glorious, beautiful, life giving FREEDOM. And again I say…

    "C A N N O N B A L L !" {splash-gasp-gulp-burrrr}

I'M JUST SAYING

Often times, I find that I am afraid to speak my mind.  Many people in my world speak their minds regularly with no regard to how those hearing will feel.  So I’m giving myself permission to say a few things I’ve wanted to say and choosing not to filter as heavily as I usually do.  



“What do you do when the infection hits you, when it takes over? Do you do what you're supposed to and take your medicine? Or do you learn to live with the thing and hope someday it goes away? Or do you just give up entirely and let it kill you?” 


Surely your answer would be “Take the medicine, of course.”    I mean, you can live with a hang nail or a bad haircut, because you know with a little time, it will resolve itself.  You can even live with a broken toe.  Odds are there would be no cast, just time to heal.   But what if it was your heart or your brain?  What if it was an infection in your leg or hand?  You’d want those things taken care of right away.  Your way of life would be dramatically changed without the use of either legs or even one hand.  And the worst diagnosis would be, if you don’t take the medicine and do what you’re supposed to do, you will die.

I think many times we try to find other cures—treatments the doctor didn’t mention.  Example:  Let's say the doctor tells you that you have diabetes.  Your reaction is to insist that it’s something else and you choose not to participate in the treatment.  What could happen?  Seriously?  The DOCTOR tells you what it is and gives you treatment options, yet you think you know better than he does?

Or let’s say the DOCTOR gives you this diagnosis and you turn around and blame the doctor for being a terrible doctor and allowing you to get diabetes.  Pay no attention to the fact that you’ve never exercised a day in your life- even though the doctor hounds you EVERY visit; you drink soda and eat every sugar laced piece of anything you can get your hands on 24/7—even though the doctor has repeatedly asked you to exercise and try a healthier diet.  But YOU’RE RIGHT!  This is so not your fault! Stupid doctor.

The burning question for me is how does this translate to the church?   What does the church do when an infection hits?  Does it just ignore the infection and hope it goes away or does it give up, consenting to a slow, painful death? 

In all seriousness, in many cases, there is a minor infection in a "leg" or "hand".  These are things that are painful, but with the proper treatment, healing can occur.  But in the direst instances, the infection is in the "brain" and the "heart" of the church. So in the minor and the dire, what is the choice of the church?  Does it:

a.)  follow the Doctors treatment plan?

b.)  ignore the illness or live with it, hoping it goes away?

c.)  or does it give up entirely and let the illness kill the church?

Unfortunately, what I have observed is this: the church first ignores.  And when the illness doesn’t go away, it then starts throwing blame around. After all, this is so not the church’s fault!  Right?

I’m convinced that the Doctor does know what he’s talking about.  Regrettably, we think we know better.   We don’t care what the Doctor says and we could care less about His possible treatment for the illness.  We’d rather ignore the minor infection.  But when we ignore the minor we risk it turning into a major infection that puts the church’s life at risk.

This happens over and over again because the church doesn’t want to listen to the Doctor.  It’s easier to ignore the problem or to just lay blame and talk it to death than participate in the treatment.  I often imagine and chaotic scene where members of said church are standing around looking for something, yet they don’t know what.  Bewildered, with shrugging shoulders and confused expressions- “we don’t understand!  How did this happen?” And when they can’t figure out the answer, the very next question is “whose fault is this?”

Prayer is not our first response.  If prayer is a response, sadly it’s a vague minute prayer whispered in a panicked hurry, forgotten about almost as quickly as it was uttered. Forgotten because the next conversation comes up regarding the issue of “How did this happen?” and “We need to get to the bottom of this.” Of course you must throw in your opinion.

I’m pretty sure the Doctor’s orders are very clear in many instances.   You want to know why there is an issue?  Funny thing is, we know Who to talk to and I’m not talking about a one minute- one sided obligatory “conversation”.  We surely better be seeking Him minute by minute; non-stop.  And it may behoove us to stop talking.  The more frantic we become, the louder we become and the less likely we are to actually hear God speak.

Basically, if there is an infection, you might want to shut up and listen to the Doctor.  You may not know the answer and you’re way of treating the infection may just kill you.  And ignorance is not bliss no more than the infection will magically disappear because you ignored it. But be sure that blaming someone else for the infection will not heal the infection.  It will probably race the minor to a major in a matter of seconds and your chances of survival just plummeted.

I’m just saying... that's my opinion and I'm sticking to it.


2 Kings 20:12

 1 Some time later Hezekiah became deathly sick. The prophet Isaiah son of Amoz paid him a visit and said, "Put your affairs in order; you're about to die—you haven't long to live." 

2-3 Hezekiah turned from Isaiah and faced God, praying: 
      Remember, O God, who I am, what I've done! I've lived an honest life before you, My heart's been true and steady, I've lived to please you; lived for your approval.   

And then the tears flowed. Hezekiah wept. 

4-6 Isaiah, leaving, was not halfway across the courtyard when the word of God stopped him: "Go back and tell Hezekiah, prince of my people, 'God's word, Hezekiah! From the God of your ancestor David: I've listened to your prayer and I've observed your tears. I'm going to heal you. In three days you will walk on your own legs into The Temple of God. I've just added fifteen years to your life; I'm saving you from the king of Assyria, and I'm covering this city with my shield—for my sake and my servant David's sake.'" 

7 Isaiah then said, "Prepare a plaster of figs."   

They prepared the plaster, applied it to the boil, and Hezekiah was on his way to recovery. 

8 Hezekiah said to Isaiah, "How do I know whether this is of God and not just the fig plaster? What confirming sign is there that God is healing me and that in three days I'll walk into The Temple of God on my own legs?" 

9 "This will be your sign from God," said Isaiah, "that God is doing what he said he'd do: Do you want the shadow to advance ten degrees on the sundial or go back ten degrees? You choose." 

10 Hezekiah said, "It would be easy to make the sun's shadow advance ten degrees. Make it go back ten degrees." 

11 So Isaiah called out in prayer to God, and the shadow went back ten degrees on Ahaz's sundial.

Second Chances

Jamie is a funny little boy! He is like sunbeams dancing on the water. He is laughter and joy. He is love and mercy. My son, Jamie, is literally my sunshine. He is a gift from God to remind me to smile and laugh and enjoy every ounce of the day fully. Jamie scoops up every hour of the day he can. He soaks in the sunshine and it radiates from him. His smile rips holes in the clouds and makes the sunshine pour out over me! The laughter, his sweet, sweet laughter wipes all the sadness away.

I had the privilege to pray with my son this morning. With tears welling up in my eyes, I listened as he prayed that God would heal is brother so they could play outside together. How preciously simple yet words my Father listens to. The faith of a child. The pure innocence of his heart and mind.

When I asked him to tell me something he knew about God, he told me that God heals people. One of those annoying little frogs jumped into my throat and I had to quickly compose myself. “Yes, dear, sometime He does heal people.” I didn’t have it in me to tell him what I was thinking. He doesn’t always heal people. Like clockwork, my mind was flooded with memories of my grandfather, Sam. I saw him as if he were in photographs, videos, moments captured in my mind. I was painfully reminded of a time when God didn’t heal the way I thought He would. As Jamie and I prayed together, I held his hand and kissed him gently. He climbed out of the car and off into the school he went. So precious and innocent. I breathed a prayer that God would keep him safe in His hands today.  I prayed that Jamie (and my other two) would come to understand God better than I.

I kept the tears back almost as if I swallowed them in one huge and slightly painful frog-filled gulp. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. It’s just easier not to cry. I still feel the pain, but I can keep it to myself.  As I contemplated all that Jamie had said and all that I had felt in that moment with him, I was at peace.  I looked at healing in a different light.  

You are probably annoyed with hearing about needtobreathe, but I tell you the truth: their song came on as I was quiet before God this morning. “Second Chances” was playing softly… a divine appointment if you will.

All my past is color
Placed inside my hands
Empty is the canvas
Patiently I plan
Stars are bright above me
That’s not where I am
Greens will be behind me
Blues will make the man

I can’t help but fear I’ve done this wrong
Cause seldom second chances come along
Greys are all around me
Fading into black
Stars were bright above me
Won’t you bring them back

I can’t help but fear I’ve done this wrong
Cause seldom second chances come along
If time can break us, will it make us strong
Cause seldom second chances come along

No, God doesn’t heal all those who are sick. Not the way we think He should anyway. But God does heal. Gently and calmly, He heals. More than physically healing someone who is ill or a disease or other affliction, God heals the broken hearts. God heals the wounds- the self inflicted wounds, the self defensive wounds. God heals the brokenness, the sadness, the disappointment. The most beautiful thing to me is that in the healing is that God gives us a second chance. When we mess things up, when our pride and selfishness get in the way- God can remove all that. He lets us start over. He gives us a blank canvas.  And when He heals our hurt or disappointment,  He leads us towards forgiving and forgetting.  Again, a blank canvas-- a new start.


I don’t understand God. I don’t get the whole God thing some days. Sometimes, I wonder if He’s really there. But then I have these moments of certainty and clarity. Moments where I feel like I’ve experienced something Divine. I literally feel warmth stir within me and know that He is with me, even when I’m alone. Lately, it has been difficult for me to pray and my faith is rather microscopic, as if it were a fledgling faith. Yet I still hear Him. He speaks to me through my children and my husband. He speaks to me through songs and through friends. He is changing me-- slowly and sometimes painfully, but I am growing.

There are days when my existence feels meaningless and my failures overwhelming.  My internal list of “successes” and “failures” isn’t looking to good. Final Score: Successes’ 4 Failures 294  No, I won’t ever get everything just right. I’m human and nothing remotely close to perfect. I will fail a lot more, but I will succeed a lot more, too. I believe that failures produce strength- somehow.  

I carry both the self inflicted and defensive wounds.  But I'm confident that the wounds will heal.  And as a wound heals, there will be a scar--a faint reminder of what used to be. But with healing comes a second chance.

My blank canvas is waiting...

Published... well kinda sorta

I wrote this back in July following a difficult life experience. I submitted it last month to an online magazine and they posted it. Thought I'd share it if you'd like to read it:

Curled Up With Jesus

I spent the day curled up in the lap of Jesus. As I listened to the steady cadence of his heartbeat, and the soothing rhythm of his chest rising and falling with each breath he took- I found the comfort I was desperate for. I’ve never been so close to him before and for that I am very ashamed. Of course, the reason that led me to the lap of Jesus leaves me ashamed as well. I ran there. I ran away from a problem that was so huge, there was nowhere else to go and I found myself wishing that I’d run there every day in either my happiness or my sadness.

I’m sitting at the feet of Jesus now. I’m listening to him speak—I seem so small here, yet significant. His left hand rests lightly on my head and I can feel his electricity full of love and compassion. He’s smiling at me, tears in his eyes. I am mesmerized by his face. The sound of his voice is as calming as the aroma cookies baking in the oven. The sound of his voice drifts in and out of my head, steadying my heart. His tears sparkle in the corner of his eyes and occasionally one runs down his cheek. He is happy that I’m here. He’s been waiting a long time for me.

I sense that there is so much he wants to say to me. His words, however, are not rushed and they are gentle. He stops speaking audibly and there is a beautiful silence that I recognize from my youth. When I close my eyes, I am standing outside in the woods behind my childhood home and there isn’t a soul around. The wind is gliding through the leaves, rustling them slightly. The sun has peaked through the tallest trees, hitting every other leaf on its way down to me. I’m overwhelmed as it seems as if the trees and rocks and the wind, the stream even… they all speak in their own way. I breathe deeply, inhaling the life that surrounds. Aware of my dream, I open my eyes again and I look at him curiously. I know what he’s saying, yet his mouth isn’t moving and no sound is coming from him. As I look into his eyes, I know what he wants me to know. Pleasant and frightening at the same time. He has always been with me, he has always spoken to me—somehow I lost my way.

We’re audibly talking again. As he speaks, he moves his hands. I talk with my hands, too, but this is different. My eyes fall on the wounds—I can see them and all of the sudden I am overcome with guilt and shame as I’m fully aware that those are my wounds. What have I done? Why am I here? I don’t deserve to be this close. The pain that led me here pales horribly in comparison to his pain. I begin to weep. Sobbing. Deep, guttural sounds that frighten me even though I know they are coming from within me. I am so unworthy.

But something really beautiful is happening now. He’s picking me up. He lifts me to his chest like a father lifts his injured child. Yet he does it with such ease and strength. His left arm is behind my back and his right arm under my legs as my limbs fall heavily over his arm. My head falls against his chest and I’m still sobbing. I can’t hold my head up. He cradles me and I feel like a small child. The electricity is palpable and then I hear it…

He begins to sing to me. It’s the most beautiful song I have ever heard. I am completely broken in the arms of Jesus and he’s singing over me. His warm tears have rolled from his beautiful face, landed on my face, and mingled with my tears. They fall one by one. With each note he sings and with each tear that falls, peace slowly begins to surround my brokenness. There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be. I’m safe here. I’m loved here. I’m forgiven here. I don’t want to leave.

Copyright ©  2009 Melissa Meador Wilson

Calm Down

So I’ve been thinking about this song…

Calm down, deep breaths
And get yourself dressed
Instead of running around
And pulling on your threads
And breaking yourself up

If it's a broken part, replace it
If it's a broken arm, then brace it
If it's a broken heart, then face it

And hold your own, know your name
And go your own way.
Hold your own, know your name
And go your own way.
And everything will be fine.

Hang on, help is on the way
And stay strong, I'm doing everything…

A remarkable phenomenon has transpired in me over the past several months. Perhaps it’s not really remarkable or phenomenal, but something has changed within me. It’s as if someone pushed a button in my head that has caused me to filter music differently. As of late, songs that aren’t about my friend Jesus have been making me think about Jesus. I don’t know if Jesus sings, I never read about it in the bible—but I do know that God created music. Music can transcend all time and space and well, everything. Just like God. Music has the ability to transform a mood, a heart, a soul... just like God.

I have always loved music: I love to listen to music. I love to dance to music. I love to sing to music. Music speaks to the depths of my soul unlike anything else.

So back to the singing Jesus idea.

When I listen to the melody and understand the lyrics of many songs, I begin to think of Jesus saying those things to me. Maybe he sings, maybe he doesn’t—but I feel like he’s saying something to me. And yes, maybe his message is coming from Jason Mraz singing “Details In the Fabric”! More than who is singing or what they look like or what the image they portray is… what matters the most, is that at the moment, that song penetrated my heart and my soul—I just heard from my friend, Jesus.

Jesus is reassuring me. I can hear him saying “Calm down, Melissa. Take a deep breath… it’s going to be okay.” This I imagine much like days of my youth when my Dad would remove me from an overwhelming and upsetting situation and attempt to calm me down. He would always remind me to take deep breaths and he would count out loud with me. “But Daddy, you don’t understand!” I would cry, all while taking huge gulps of air in between each word. He would make me look him in the eyes; he’d place his hands on my arms and say “Look at me, Melissa. Take a deep breath. Calm down… 1..2..3…4…5…6… it’s going to be okay.”

Jesus is still reassuring me. He’s helping me focus on him. He’s assuring me that I can go the way his father has asked me to go. He is reminding me that I know my name-- because sometimes I forget. He’s gently reminding me that there is healing for the broken stuff. He’s reminding me that I am loved more than I can even imagine.

And you know what? You are loved more than you can even imagine.