Speak with conviction…. it’s not enough to question authority, we need to speak with it. – Taylor Mali
I’m taking a writing course right now on finding my writers voice and I love it. What I find interesting is that while people will tell me to write like I speak, I’d rather not. I shared with the group that I speak with a lilt a lot of the time. Meaning when I’m feeling insecure in my surroundings, which is more often than not, I use more of an interrogative tone than an authoritative one. I also abuse commas and semicolons.
This particular speech impediment is not caused by growing up in the 80’s. Nor is it from some physical attribute such as a cleft palate. No. My speech impediment comes from fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of disagreement. Fear of being thought too forceful, too opinionated, too much, or perhaps too little. I am over coming that one truth at a time.
I discovered Taylor Mali this summer and have fallen head over heals in love with this man’s writing and his delivery. His use of humor and poetry to run home strong truths is like you know, awesome?
Sounds like a horrible way to live, doesn’t it? Sure a heart locked up in a casket can’t be broken, but it can’t breathe either. It dies.
I love the t-shirt in the photo here. I actually own one. I first saw this shirt when I saw the Ken Davis video “Super Sheep.” at a woman’s retreat back in the 90’s. – I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. (Phil 4:13) We’re the sheep in the photo and if you notice he’s holding Christ’s hand – or Christ is holding his, either way – it’s a union. And there they go safely, fearlessly walking past the wolves and the lions of life. Wow what a visual. I have to confess I wore that shirt long before I ever believed it or even fully understood it.
I have walked through many doors with various him’s on my arm, but they were never the right one. Getting from there to here hasn’t always been easy.
My heart was wrapped rather tightly by the time I set a tentative foot into the life of churchdom back in 1993. Entombed in my career and my family it seemed to me that I was impenetrable.
The only “him” I was with, was me and my career.
I kinda thought that I liked it that way, but I didn’t really. Trusting only in yourself is a lonely existence.
My early years of church life became an archeological expedition of finding entrances, caskets, trinkets and pockets of light. The dig went slowly.
I can remember the first steps of simply coming to church and sitting in the pews, shaking violently. If my husband overslept and I had to go it alone, I was a basket case.
My husband became my him. I placed all burdens of peace, happiness, and safety on his shoulders.
As time went on, I can remember learning how to talk to people, going to bible studies, joining a committee (just one) and starting to feel peace. If I’m being honest, I trusted the building before I ever trusted the people.
And so the church became my him. (At least I was getting closer.)
There were nights when my husband and I would argue and I would put on my sneakers and run the 1 1/2 miles to our new church. The building was locked up and closed for the night, but I didn’t care. I’d just run through the parking lot, past the parsonage to the playground in the back. Breathless, I’d climb up the slide, sit in the tower and look at the church. I believed God was in that building and I felt safe. I’d stay there until the fear and loneliness subsided and peace settled in and then I’d walk home, leaving my him behind.
I hadn’t yet learned that God is present in more places than just a sanctuary, but it was a start. A beginning of airing out the dusty tombs.
Three years after we joined our church, we enrolled our children in a private Lutheran school. New challenges awaited and I was now dealing with several pastors instead of just my one. Their kids went there too. I hadn’t planned on that. It was time to learn a new level of trust.
Have I ever told you that I don’t like pastors? I liked mine, but taken as a whole, I wasn’t all that sure about the rest. This was going to prove problematic. More shaking. More fear. More dust.
I tested the waters many times by asking these men simple questions and then stepping back to see how they responded. Were they kind? Were they patient? Did they answer my question? Mostly yes. I dusted a windowsill and more light came through.
I did have some problems with a dad at the school who liked to pursue me when he saw me alone. I hate being hit on and I did not know how to handle it. I discovered that if I stuck close to the pastors, he’d leave me alone. I didn’t think about how it looked, I just wanted to be safe. And so
The pastor’s became my him. I was safe when I was with them.
I wasn’t intentionally making idols out of things or people. I can only relate it to going from water wings to the high dive in learning trust and walking with God. I’d learned about Philippians by then – I can do all things through Christ. Christ was supposed to be my him. Not me, my career, my husband, my church, or the pastors. While I knew that in my head, I didn’t know how to walk it out.
Until….
We were at a back to school pool party and I was afraid. There were dozens of people there and I knew very few of them. I was by then good at saying hello, asking a brief how are you and then bolting before I got dragged into a conversation. But this was a FOUR hour, fenced in pool party. I was trapped with a bunch of Christians and pastors. eek! I didn’t think I’d survive.
I’d prayed shortly after we got there that I didn’t know to trust him enough to find the strength to step out and be myself. Would he be there for me? What would it look like? How would I know.
Right after saying that prayer, I felt a voice deep in my heart that said “watch me.”
I looked around to see who might have said that and I spotted a couple arguing not too far from me. I wasn’t sure what the argument was about, but it looked intense. I didn’t want to stare, so I looked away.
Moments later she was gone and he was standing along the back of fence. His hands were grasping the bar at the top so tightly I could see the veins in his hands. His head was bowed. He was hurting and it showed. And he was praying.
I was confused and asked God what it was exactly he wanted me to see. Surely not this. I mean this was horrible. The next thing I know this man – the praying one – is in the kiddie pool with my kids playing and laughing and talking to us. He spent the rest of that afternoon talking to people, playing with the kids, calling swim races, going off the high dive and just having a blast with everyone.
Did his pain suddenly go away? – I later learned no. His wife had left him just a few months before. His pain was deep. But what God did do for him is lift him above it enough and strengthen him enough to make the best of the day. He prayed in the midst of pain and fear and God responded.
They walked through that day together.
When God said “watch me” — he meant watch what I can do when you let me be your him. Take my hand – I won’t let go.
Does that mean I’ll never be hurt, or have my heart-broken? Or be afraid? No. It does mean however that I have a hand to hold that will lift me above those circumstances and strengthen me as we walk through them together. I don’t have to keep my heart buried in some tomb. It is redeemable. And it’s stronger than I think.
Christ in me (and you.) – the hope of glory.
The post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart. All rights reserved. No goods or services were given in exchange for the videos and items discussed here.
I’m sorry, but the post you are looking for is no longer here. Please note that I write most of my posts 1 – 2 weeks in advance and schedule them for future publication. While this particular post dealt with my own eating issues and abuse of over the counter diet pills, as well as revelations I’ve received from my present Bible Study, I’m afraid that it published on the cusp of another very important announcement. The two have nothing to do with eachother, but out of respect for a friend and a family grieving, I’m taking my post down.
Please pray for those you mentor as well as those who mentor others. I’ve heard it said that the minute we step into public ministry, Satan points a loaded gun at the backs of our heads. That is so true. May God fill you to overflowing with his Grace, his Mercy and His Peace.
“Let the little childrencome to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” Mark 10:14
I am a member today of a Lutheran Church in Oklahoma, very much a Christian and very much forgiven and beloved of God, but you know I didn’t always belong to a church.
Confession: I used to believe if the pastor didn’t like me, he (or she) wouldn’t let me belong to their church.
For you life long, church going, Christians out there, that probably comes as a shock. Shock or not, I really did believe that and acted accordingly. This false belief creates a serious dilemma. I want to be part of a faith community and this one man (or woman depending) stands (I believe) as a spokesperson for God; I’m going to have to perform and dance and lie through my teeth if I want to stay here. Not much different really than what I believed about God back then but I am ahead of myself.
My desire to belong mixed with the possibility of rejection, created a fear within me that was so strong that the presence of a pastor made my body shake. And if they were wearing a death suit? (Black shirt and collar) I would hyperventilate. Nice hunh? yeah, I was a mess and a half. They call that idolatry – placing things or people in higher regard than God, but I didn’t know that. I just thought those were the rules. You are either in or you are out.
I used to try and hide my shaking by placing my right hand on the wall and my left hand on my hip. But then my knees would start to give and ….
To put it another way, my attempts to keep from falling off the planet, made me look like Mae West.
My physical shaking did not stop until about six years ago when I buried ten friends in twelve months. I was so devastated by my personal losses that I no longer cared if any of them liked me or not. They could all hang from a tree as far as I was concerned and like me or hate me I was here for the duration. I sat in church and cried for weeks on end, hanging on – not to their words, but to God himself.
Some faith communities require believing before belonging. Others allow a person to belong long before they really believe. Thankfully for me, by God’s Grace, we found such a community in Oklahoma.
Trinity Lutheran Church in Busted Stick Oklahoma is the very first church I ever belonged to in my entire life. Our family joined Trinity in 1993. It was a strange set of circumstances that brought us there really. 1. My husband was raised Lutheran, therefore… 2. It was within walking distance from our house. 3. I was a young stay at home mom in a new town, thousands of miles from my old friends. I needed other women to be around and they had young mom’s there.
Not one of those logical to me reasons included my believing what they believed. I just needed to belong somewhere. I was lonely. I’m also ahead of my story here.
When I was a young girl, I tried to join churches. I would visit my grandmother in Buffalo NY and take the bus to this beautiful cathedral and just sit in awe. Back home in Michigan, I would attend festivals and youth group things at local churches and would secretly wish for more. Even though I didn’t belong to a faith community, and I didn’t know all of the fancy prayers those churches had, I knew God and I believed I knew him well and knew that he knew me. We were best buds growing up. He was the one adult I could always talk to — and he’d listen. I liked that about him.
One day (1978) I went with my neighbors to hear Lisa Welchel (Blair from Fact’s of Life) speak at their church. There was something different about Lisa and while I didn’t understand it I knew it had something to do with Jesus and I wanted what she had. I went home that night and sat in my bed talking to God like I normally did. I told him about everything she said and how I wanted him to please – if it wasn’t too much to ask – do for me what he did for her.
(Edited to add: I had the awesome joy of meeting Lisa Welchel in 2008 when she spoke at E-Women in Tulsa. Lisa knows this story, is touched by it and allows me to share it. — I’m not name dropping here — Lisa was a teen just like me, I could relate to her and that is important)
That very week I walked to every church my little feet would carry me to and boldly sought out the pastors. Each time I’d tell them I want to learn about Jesus and could I join their church. Every pastor said no.
The Lutheran Pastor said no.
The Catholic Priest said no.
The Baptist Pastor even said no.
My mom, who was seeking her own place to belong brought me with her to a community not far from town, asking if we could belong, and you know what? The Maharishi, said yes.
I am alway amazed at how quickly I can pick up a covering of shame and embarrassment. Or how quickly I can get discouraged and question my own judgement. It doesn’t take much really.
We arrived to the hospital Friday morning bright and early. 5:30 am early, the sun wasn’t even up for heaven’s sake. By 6, I was in my prep room, wearing the funkiest multi-layered purple surgical gown I’ve ever seen in my life and waiting for my nurse to install the IV. I felt horrible. I’ve felt horrible for days and attributed it all to my new-found female issues and could not wait for the surgery to correct everything.
I was prepared for my hysterectomy. I was at that moment emotionally, mentally, and physically psyched. I was also scared, but don’t tell anyone. Fortunately for me my new surgeon had given me vallum for the night before so that I could sleep.
I even spent the day before drinking that colon cleanser stuff that tastes like salt water and makes you do things that, well… should never be spoken of in polite company, that’s all I have to say about that.
Then it happened, the sweetest most cheerful nurse I’ve met in a while came in and started taking my stats and getting me ready. She stuck some thermometer thing in my ear and read the readout — “Oh my! You have a fever!” she exclaimed and stuck the digital readout in my face to show me. It read 37.5 – which of course elevated my heart rate because didn’t realize it was in celsius. I’m thinking at 37.5, I don’t have a fever, I should be a corpse.
Nurse Pam went and got a different thermometer and it read 100.2. Yep I had a fever.
Pam listened to my lungs (I’d been telling her that with all this rain I was having some trouble taking deep breaths) and they sounded clear. So she paged my surgeon, took some blood work and we waited.
And we waited.
20 minutes later my surgeon is at the door and my heart sank. I know what that means – “no surgery for you.”
I wasn’t disappointed to see him, I was relieved, and I was embarrassed about being too sick to operate.
Dr B. spoke in soft tones and tried to reassure me and find out what was going on.. He listened to my lungs and yes, they sounded clear, but then he did something. He had me say the letter “e” while he listened, and then he had me say “EEEEEE” while he listened again. The “e” sounded like an “a” when he listened again. YEP, I have bronchitis in my lower left lung. Not bad, just enough to cause fever and trouble breathing. No surgery for me.
Then he rather quietly stated that “I told you, smoking brings its own complications. I was afraid of something like this. If we operate now, you could get pneumonia. We need to wait.” He was being compassionate and logical.
He didn’t shame me. Didn’t need to. He was just stating facts.
If I could have pulled my purple gown over my head I would have.
I had already spoken to him about my smoking and what I can do to help cut down on complications and he’d told me to either quit or at least cut back as much as I could. I cut back to less than half, but it wasn’t enough. Quitting is the only thing left.
He wrote scripts for a Z-Pak and an inhaler. I go back to see him Wed and he’ll listen to my lungs to see if they’ve cleared up. Gosh I hope so.
I had a brief anxiety moment later that day and told my DH that maybe we didn’t need to do the surgery, maybe I didn’t look hard enough at the other options. He just smiled, sat back and asked about football.
“You know how in football one team will be getting ready to kick a field goal, usually for a tie or win? And how right before they snap the ball the other team calls a time out? Well that’s called icing the kicker. They do it so that the kicker has to spend more time thinking about the kick and sometimes he over thinks it and misses. That is what’s happening to you right now. You are over thinking things.”
Maybe so. I’m over thinking why I didn’t just totally quit when he told me to and how I’ve never had a male GYN before, and how I messed up his schedule by getting sick, and how.. okay I’ll call it… can I just crawl into a hole and NOT go back to his office, even if they are the best doctor’s office I’ve seen in years?
But, none of that is going to help. And even though I know why I started smoking in the first place back in the 80’s, and I know why I still smoke today (I do it when I’m overwhelmed and want to separate myself from people), I also know that the time has come where I need to be important enough to myself to want to stop once and for all.
I saw this on someone’s Facebook today and I’m thankful for the reminder. “For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago” Ephesians 2:10.
Regardless of how much I over think things, or how abusive my own thoughts can be toward’s myself, God reminds me through his word, that I am His masterpiece. I need to believe that more, and believe myself, less. Here’s hoping the no smoking, and meds work well enough by Wednesday so that he’ll operate on Friday.
My question to you guys and gals: I know too many bible teachers who fall into the same trap of self condemnation, what verses or what things do you focus on during those times that help you pull out? Talk to me.
I can be a bit controlling, especially when I’m scared. My husband will laugh when he reads that and add a “you think?”
I know that control is never a solution to fear, especially not on this side of the Resurrection. But knowing and doing don’t always mesh in my world. We are working on it.
I’ve had three days of phone calls, not only for myself but for my son with epilepsy. I’ve learned through his disorder how to be assertive with doctors and when to follow-up and when to call. D needed a script refilled and for whatever reason, I was the hand holder between the pharmacy and the pediatrician. I’m glad I called it in three days early. It took the full three days to get it refilled. It never takes that long.
My doctor issue really frustrated me. I got frustrated because they were not giving me correct answers. I followed up on Monday like the hospital told me too, and received a call back stating that my referral was being processed and that I should receive a phone call later that day. No phone call came.
Tues: I called back and left a message for the gal in charge. The gal up front read the notes on my file and assured me everything was being processed. No return call came.
Wed: (Today) I called the processing gal directly and was saddened — and slightly angered — to discover she had no clue who I was, and had received no such paper work nor a message that I had called on Tuesday. The gals in the front office did not lie to me — there were notes on my page that indicated a referral was being processed. Sadly it turned out the referral was for the wrong patient. My gal promised to get to work on it right away. True to her word, she did. It took three hours, but I have my referral as promised.
I had a lot of choices this morning. I did succeed in the choice not to lose my temper, and yet still communicate I was angry. I chose to ask to leave a message for my doctor and when I was told that won’t be necessary, I could choose to call the office administrator and speak with them — once my referral was complete. I chose to say a silent prayer rather than speak out what was in my heart at the moment.
Lots of choices. Right now.. I can choose to be happy I have my referral completed. I see a specialist on April 14 at 10 am. I have instructions to call every morning between now and then to see if they have a cancellation.
I know that God does not make bad things happen to people. Things happen because we live in a sinful and fallen world. God is the ultimate hand holder. He holds me in his every day.
I know that he still has plans for me and the phone call from Thelma on monday was all part of that. I talked to her (via email yesterday) and she had no idea I was going through something. We aren’t friends, even though we’ve met. (I hostessed her a couple of years ago) I am however part of You Go Girl. Thelma is someone I intentionally put myself at the feet of to learn.
The phone call is part of something new she is doing with her You Go Girl mentoring network. It just so happened the devotion on her heart for this month was Jeremiah 29:11. And so together we got to thank God for doctors, modern medicine, and telephones of all things.
So now, I wait some more and know the his plans for me include a future and a hope. And I can rest in that. And finish my laundry. It’s kind of piling up.
Let’s talk about plans. Will you share with all of us a time when your plans and God’s didn’t totally mesh, but his turned out so much better?
I am an absolute failure at telling people I disagree with them. I hate conflict and I hate making people feel badly. Assuming people are going to feel badly about themselves because I have a different opinion than they do is an arrogant assumption I know. I’m working on it. It’s that angle or I don’t want them to feel badly about me… I get those two confused some times.
It really is all about me most days. I just hate debating issues. I’m not good at it and I rarely win. I can tell a person what I think and feel, but if I have to defend that in such a way that it feels like the other person wants me to convince them I’m right? That’s another story all together. Most times I chose not to say anything at all and that situation has me in hot water a lot these days.
I’m in hot water because now I have all this feeling behind the opinion. And I have opinions people aren’t used to hearing. I am getting better though.
One thing I need to work on this year — getting over the whole pastor phobia deal. No seriously, you know how some people have snake phobias? Well, I have pastor phobias… especially if they are wearing that black and white death suit of theirs. Reminds me of Darth Vader… chills.
Imagine having a pastor phobia, being in a speech class under a pastor and you hear her say THIS… to another student, loudly enough that she is obviously engaging the class:
“Well you know that Martin Luther doesn’t believe in works, right? I mean EVERYONE knows he wanted the whole book of James removed from the Bible. Lutherans only believe in Grace.” —
It really seemed like one of the pastors adamantly agreed with her. And now I am faced with two pastors on one side and I felt like defenseless cheese.
We’re talking feelings here and not necessarily facts.
What struck me though — after I sifted through the names I wanted to call her adn how I sat there and said nothing, but stewed for two days — is I had paid almost $2,000 to be in the particular class. My instructor is erroneously bashing Martin Luther and as a result, I feel insulted to the point that I missed every thing else she said. She had my bio, she knew I was Lutheran. My anger at her comments had rendered me speechless.
I spent a long time being angry with myself for not speaking up and now I also realise that:
1. She was incorrect not only in her theological history but in her attitude as well.
2. Her actions were unprofessional.
And I felt powerless to do anything about it.
I want to handle things differently next time. I’m not sure how I’ll go about it yet. But I’ll figure it out.
Have you ever been there? What would you have done? How would you have handled it?
When I picked up Fearless by Max Lucado, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Fear is definitely an issue with me and everyone who knows me, knows that. My husband’s company downsized last Spring, cutting our income by 10%. My youngest son has epilepsy and my oldest just left for college. There are a lot of things to fear in life these days, and yet Max Lucado doesn’t just write about the problem of fear, he tackles solutions and breaks them down into achievable steps.
Countless times, I have read books on fear and been left with a list of more things to be afraid of than what I started with. That just isn’t the case with this book. Max Lucado covers my real and imagined fears with such solid clarity and scriptural truth that my heart can’t help but feel lighter. This isn’t a feel good, don’t be afraid kind of book. Nowhere does Max over spiritualize the real issue of fear. Instead he meets me where I am, takes my hand and invites me to walk with him in an exciting journey of truth, faith, and hope.
This book gives real solutions to very real problems facing us today and it comes with a study guide in the back for those who wish to go deeper still. I definitely recommend reading it.
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“Because the sovereign Lord helps me, I will not be disgraced.”
My greatest fear, isn’t being disliked. My greatest fear is being publically humiliated. Hate me all you want, just don’t embarass me. I’m pretty sure that this is a true statement for all of us in some fashion or another. I love attention, just not that kind.
My husband sent me this bible verse Thursday night after I’d told him how unsure I was that I’d made the right decision in traveling for this workshop. I was feeling very guilty for leaving home after he’d been gone so long. What if my kids needed me, what if something happened. Or worse, what if I was gone and they figured out that they could get along just fine without me. I was also feeling very selfish for pursing a “my dream” kind of deal.
Leaving Corporate America ten years ago was both the best and worst things I could have done. It was the best in that I have a family that I am proud of of having a part in raising. It was the worst because with that career went my definition of who I was. Returning to the workforce at 43, scares me. I’m behind, I’m out of touch with the industries and technologies today. My learning curve has increased expotentially. Some days I wonder if I will ever catch back up.
I’m not alone. I’m not white-knuckeling my way through this mine field of change. I’m in Christ and because of Him, and who he is, I will not be humiliated. He guides my path, my only role is to trust him and practice using the gifts he has placed in front of me.
Looking not so far into the future that I become intimidated and overwhelmed, I simply look for the next right action, remember to breath and walk the steps He has numbered for me today.
Rules: Once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it’s because I want to know more about you.
1. I was born near Syracuse NY and raised in: Buffalo NY, Bridgeport NY, Endicott NY, Cleveland OH, Cincinnati OH, Columbus OH, Atlanta GA, Fort Walton Beach FL, Detroit MI, Southfield MI, Redford MI. – I’e also lived in Sweden, IL and OK.
2. I’m an artist – I love scrapbooking, photography, and designing jewlery.
3 – I have a knack for speaking first and thinking – eventually – making my husband laugh from under a lot of tables and my pastor to hang his head and blush. – I call it being a UFO – Unintentionally Funny Orator. Basically that little filter from the brain to the mouth – doesn’t work.
4. I met my husband at work in Chicago 20 years ago and wouldn’t go out with him until he told me that he played guitar in a rock band – true story.
5. I love a lot of people but don’t get to spend nearly as much time with them as I would like.
6. I used to be an actress, my “claim to fame” was a Work Place Issues video filmed while I worked for Williams Companies. Depressing really, but I still have the video. It was my only paid acting gig, ever.
7. I used to think I knew who I was until I realized that I spent the first 40 years of my life defining myself by how I thought others saw me. I lived to please others, and hurt myself a lot in the process.
8. If God lined up all of the teenage boys in the world and told me I could pick whichever two I wanted, I would pick Charlie and Dillon every time.
9. I love God with everything I have and I‘m learning to believe that the feeling is mutual.
10. Raising boys is harder than I thought it would be. I find myself saying things I never dreamed would ever come out of my mouth – phrases like “No you cannot drive your go cart off the roof to make it look like it’s flying for your video.” and “No you cannot send that frog into space. Please untie the helium balloons and use a GI Joe instead.” There are other phrases, but you get the gist.
11. I have a half sister I never really knew.
12. I left corporate America to be a stay home mom, and learned that staying home is harder than working for a corporation – but the benefits are fabulous and I’d do it again in a heart beat.
13. I am a bibliophile and have a room in my house dedicated to books and reading. I want to be an author and study other authors to learn how to write better.
14. I’m a really good cook – but don’t take the time as often as I’d like.
15. I actually love public speaking – I’m not sure if it’s because I was raised an only child by a single mom and think it’s all about me – or what. I tend to crave attention – mostly though – it’s just really fun for me today because it used to scare me.
16. There was a time when speaking in general terrified me, even if it was just to say hi to someone. I used to be so shy and so scared that I would literally shake in new situations. I preferred to be invisible, but secretly wished someone would notice me. Learning how to overcome that took years of prayer and practice.
17. I love facilitating Beth Moore Bible Studies (personal hero)- and I love going to our Mom’s Group at Church (Bad Girls of the Bible) and just hanging with my friends.
18. I love praise and worship music and I love the old hymns. I believe that both bring pleasure to God. He looks to the heart of man, and I’m thankful for that because my singing ain’t all that great.
19. I wasn’t raised in the church – and when I finally joined one, it took me years to get over the fear of being kicked out. – That’s what happens when you look through broken glasses. – I didn’t really know what Grace was until I experienced a personal failure and then got drowned by Grace in ways I still cannot put into words. – I actually turned in my ministry resignation to God that year – funny thing is, he acted like he never saw it and just kept pouring out more and more gifts and opportunities to serve. I’ll never figure him out.
20. When I was growing up I wanted to be, a circus clown, an actress, or married to a rock star. – uhm.. Goals were not my strong suit. – so I married an up an coming rock star – who is now a praise and worship leader on top of his full time corporate career – and is strongly studying to be a worship pastor and I’m thinking God has an amazing sense of humor.
21. I love Oklahoma, but wish we did not live so far away from my family. We’ve been here for 16 years and we didn’t’ get to see our nieces and nephews grow up, and my boys don’t know their cousins. And I think that’s sad.
22. I have the heart of an artist – and weird (eclectic) taste in clothing.
23. I sometimes miss my corporate job – I audited line costs and kept track of regulatory pricing, negotiated local contracts with Bell Companies, designed long distance circuit layouts, and installed switches. I felt smart when I worked there – I have had to remind myself sometimes that smart is smart no matter what you do and a career does not define my value. But I still miss it.
24. When I was 15, I wanted to be an exchange student. I didn’t’ think I could, but I applied any way. The essay question was tell me about your life. I wanted to throw it away but an adult friend told me to tell the truth and turn it in. I lived in a single parent home, my mom only made about $10k per year and she was a recovering alcoholic. I’d moved almost 15 times in my life, my grades were B’s, our house was only about 1,000 sf – I knew the competition – kids from two parent homes with stay home mom’s and straight A’s. – I didn’t think I stood a chance. He knew all the lofty “right” answers – his favorite author was Shakespeare and mine was Erma Bombeck. I really thought there was no way.
After the essay – I was first runner up – then came the interview – this is what they told me – “Because of what recovery has done for your family, and the life issues that you have overcome, which have made you stronger – we believe you are the right candidate” – And just like that I got to be a Rotary International Exchange Student and live in Sweden for a year and they paid for the whole thing – I even got to go to the Nobel Awards and meet the King (which would be when I told him he was shorter than I thought he’d be. ) That’s when I really learned that my past can be my greatest asset.
25. For this decade in my life, I’m exploring the world God has called me into – studying everything I can get my hands on – learning public speaking, writing sketches and learning stand up. I’m learning how to find the courage to say “I want to learn from you.” I’m learning about who I am – and more and more about who He is – and I feel like I’m falling in love all over again.
Deana O'Hara - Speaker, Comedian, Writer 