Protection

I can't even begin to describe the freedom that comes with honesty. Maybe I'm the only one who struggles with this, but when the hard times hit, I somehow believe that isolation will protect me and I'll be better off dealing with it alone.

I believe this is how Satan lies. He wants me to believe I am the only one. I am the only one who doubts. I am the only one who fears. I am the only one who struggles, who gets angry, who fails. Who sins.

So I put on my protective armour and think no one knows and the lie self-perpetuates. But when I shut down and withdraw I am not self-protecting. I am self-destructing.

But oh, how I sense the arms of Jesus when I open up and make myself vulnerable! The stories I hear of struggles not too dissimilar to mine, that I would otherwise never have known. We all have different issues. Yours may not be the same as mine, but they're just as big to you as mine are to me. And I draw such strength in knowing that others are walking the road with me or have been healed and are victorious.

It truly is in our weakness that He is made strong. He is the only one who can penetrate the walls of self-protection I erect. He is the only one who can speak truth through the negative thoughts in my mind. He is the only one who can reach out and take my hand and lead me forward when all I want to do is retreat. He is the only one who loves me enough to get past my very rejection of Him and love me through to wholeness.

He is the only one who can truly protect me.

I am praying that He will solidify this thought in my heart so I can write more about it in the coming days. Because I am now certain that I am not the only one.

Getting Real

For me, one of the most difficult things about blogging is being "real." I had this conversation with a blogging friend a week or so ago and it's been bouncing around in my brain. I can't get rid of it. And now it's being put to the test.

It's easy to put my best foot forward in cyber-world. I am totally together when I come to you via Blogger. My make-up is perfectly applied, my wardrobe is impeccable, and I don't carry a single ounce of baby-weight. I never snap at my husband, get impatient with my children, or fail go to God with my "stuff." I am wonder-woman. After all, it's my blog, and I can be anyone I want to be.

Well, it's time for me to get real. Sorry friends, but the bubble's gonna burst today. If this makes you uncomfortable, you should probably stop reading.

Because the truth is, as I type this I'm not lookin' so pretty. I cried my make-up off in church this morning and never bothered to re-apply, I'm wearing the same jeans I wear just about every day because they're the only ones that (sort of) fit, and well, after five babies, there's just no way this old body is ever going to look like I wish it would. And that's just the outside.

My heart has been looking much worse. I've spent way too much time being angry at my husband for just about everything under the sun, my children have been the unfortunate recipients of my short-tempered outbursts, and God? Well, I put Him on the shelf and told Him to stay there while I thought I was getting everything figured out. What a mess.

My name is Sara Somma and I've been in the pit of post partum depression. I didn't blog last week because I was afraid it would show. I couldn't suck up enough strength to think of something cheery to write about, so I just bagged it.

I've struggled with PPD after each child. It has historically hit right around this same time...between the fourth and fifth month. I've heard it gets worse with each pregnancy, but I was absolutely convinced that I was going to lick it this time.

Steve and I believe God directed us to leave the baby-count in His court. There's a story behind how we got here, but it's not important today. For us, it was simply a matter of obedience.

And hey, when we choose obedience, isn't God supposed to make it easy? I was sure that for me this would mean the PPD would pass me by after Lydia's arrival. I'd be delivered! I mean, if I was allowing Him to do His will in my life, surely He wouldn't let me suffer. But He did and I have.

Maybe I'm the only one who thinks like this. That when I'm following God, He will spare me all pain and anguish. That life will be sweet and easy because I'm doing it His way. That somehow for me it will be different than it was for many of my Biblical heroes.

Noah was mocked by his friends. Abraham was called to sacrifice his son. Moses spent 40 years in the wilderness. Job lost everything. Ruth left her people. Mary carried an "illegitimate" child. Paul was beheaded. And yet, with each of these, and many, many more God received the glory of their final story.

I don't claim to be on par with any of these greats, but God is showing me that in the trials I can trust Him. And there will be trials. In fact, sometimes it seems they will never end. I am learning that even when I'm following Him life will not be easy. But He will see me through and He will provide what I need. He has and He does and He will continue.

On Saturday afternoon, as I sat with a dear mentor and friend (well, actually she was sitting and I was laying in bed with the covers over my head telling her to go away, but that doesn't sound as nice), I was lovingly reminded that I have a story to tell. Post partum or not, God has done amazing things for me.

It would be easy to keep this a cheery, happy, everything-is-perfect-with-my-life blog. Putting on the mask and a smile is second nature for me, but it's something I desperately want to change. Please don't get me wrong. I'm not knocking anyone and I love cheery blogs! But that's not how God is directing me for now. Believe me, I wish He was!

Oh, I'll still include pictures of the kids and focus on the fun parts of our lives, but I will also begin to share my testimony. A little at a time. I'm thinking on Fridays. Some current, some catching up on how we've gotten this far. To give God the glory. He has done great things. And I am certain He's not finished.

I was almost knocked out last week. My blog went silent and I didn't think I'd be able to pick it up again. I believe in the spiritual realm and I have an Enemy who wants me quiet. Well, I'm calling his bluff. And I'm putting it in print.

We'll see where God leads and I hope you'll stay with me.

Quote of the Week and Stuff

It's been a tough week here on many fronts and for sanity's sake, I had to take a complete break from the cyber world. I'm playing a little bit of catch up this evening and look forward to visiting more in the next couple of days.

In the meantime, here's my "Quote of the Week":

Our Saviour kneels down and gazes upon the darkest acts of our lives. But rather than recoil in horror, he reaches out in kindness and says, 'I can clean that if you want.' And from the basin of his grace, he scoops a palm full of mercy and washes our sin.

Max Lucado

While I was away, I was graciously and lovingly bestowed an award by two of my favorite blogging-friends. If you haven't met these lovelies yet, do visit Heidi Pocketbook at Bargain Hunting in the Corn and Becky at Holiday in the Sun. Thanks, Ladies. What a welcome back into blogging world! God knew I needed a little lift!

If The Shoe Fits is an award for those enthusiastic people who just bubble over!! I'd like to share it with my incredible sister-in-law Beth at It Is What It Is , my dear friend Liz at A Day in the Life of Liz, and my new bloggy friend, Isabel, whose life I can relate to in so many ways, at Thrills, Frills and Drills of Motherhood. Amazing Fiona at FeeBeeKay, who has a true-blue heart and the (6th!) most beautiful baby on the planet, also deserves the award but has already been granted it twice, otherwise, I'd share it with her too!

When I finally got out of the house today, this is the song that came on the radio. It was just what I needed:

I look forward to sharing what God has been doing in my heart and life, knowing full well that He only puts us through the fire so that we come out more refined and closer to His image than we were when we went in.

My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. James 1:2&3

Quote of the Week

God is God. Because He is God, He is worthy of my trust and obedience. I will find rest nowhere but in His holy will, a will that is unspeakably beyond my largest notions of what He is up to.

Elisabeth Elliot

Brotherly Love

Can you just feel it?!?!

The Stranger

A friend shared this story through email last week. It's cute, but for our family it's also "amen!"

A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small Texas town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family.

The stranger was quickly accepted and was around from then on. As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors: Mom taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey.

But the stranger...he was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies. If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to our first major league ball game.

He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind. Sometimes, Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to the kitchen for peace and quiet. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave).

Dad ruled our household with moral convictions, but the stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our home. Not from us, our friends, or any visitors. Our longtime visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush.

My Dad didn't permit the liberal use of alcohol. But the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too freely!) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.

I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked... And NEVER asked to leave.

More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you could walk into my parents' den today, you would find him sitting in his corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him paint his pictures.
His name?

We just call him 'TV.'

We are coming up on our five year anniversary of being "tv free." It has made a huge difference in our lives!

We still physically have a tv but there is no network access so nothing is coming in that isn't "approved". The only things we watch these days are encouraging and faith building and the "poor quality" of some of these doesn't bother us anymore because we have nothing to compare it to. We've been deprogrammed!

We have our evenings free for family devotions because we're not waiting for a favorite show or the game of the week to come on. Our children are unaware of the latest and greatest "stuff" they are deprived of because they're not being saturated with manipulative advertising. We have time to read and explore and just talk.

Does this mean there is no draw? I wish. We were at one of our favorite burger joints the other night for dinner. There were tv's in every corner of the restaurant. I think there was a basketball game on. After we prayed for our meal, AJ confessed, "Mom, my eyes were open when we were praying. I was kind of watching the tv!"

Quote of the Week

Trials teach us what we are; they dig up the soil, and let us see what we are made of; they just turn up some of the ill weeds on to the surface.

Charles Spurgeon