I was going to post a blog today about my new resolutions, until I read Donald Miller’s Post on Living a Good Story. (You have got to read it, seriously. Awesome piece) No one is asking me to endorse it, I just happened to catch the link on Twitter today and thought WOW, this is so it! And that post is why I am changing how I look at both 2009 and 2010.
“When you do tell your story, don’t sound like the victim. If you do, you’ll sound like you’re whining. Just be truthful in telling your story and aim to discover that slice of humanity that others can relate to.” David Pierce, to me last summer, author of “Don’t Let Me Go.”
Stories can capture the soul or bore you stupid, kind of like my blog some days. I’m going through midlife puberty and my voice is changing. Some days I nail it, mostly I squeak. My “mom” days are coming to a close. It’s a scary season for me. I’m still needed, but not in the same way.
I did not begin 2009 with a story in mind and yet looking back, those two pieces nail it. Letting Go of what holds me back and finding my identity in Christ is the story of 2009 at least for me. Christ loves me, not because of what I do or don’t do, but because I breath in and out. I can’t do a single thing to make Him love me less, or love me more than he does right now. WOW.
That was God’s gift to me last year. That knowing that I wanted so desperately in January. Remember my verse for the year? – Ephesians 3:17-19. “I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge – that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”
I “get” it today.
My goals for 2009 were pretty vague – memorize 24 scripture verses, survive graduation and my son leaving for college, lose 60 lbs (didn’t happen) — I was also going to quit smoking, but I copped a resentment last summer and well, that didn’t happen either. — And yes, I am self destructive when I’m feeling resentful. Even so, stopping smoking is a requirement for the story I want to live in 2010.
I’m back at square one today. I’m throwing away my resoltions and I’m looking for the story of 2010. What story do I want to live? I’m not sure yet. That will take some thought.
I’m going to take the advice from a teacher again- my story for 2010won’t involve being a victim, no whining might take some work, and it will be truthful. Truthful to God, to my family, and to myself.
How about you? What story do you want to live in 2010? I’d love to hear from you.
EDITED TO ADD: _– a neurotic note to say How quickly I forget, — Donald Miller wrote Blue Like Jazz, one of my favorite books of all time – no wonder his piece on stories not resolutions spoke to me so well.
Read this guy.. I’m glad I found him again.. I feel a bookstore afternoon coming up.
I have a girlfriend moment here – a couple of weeks ago, God blessed me with an email from someone in the body who read my blog and liked it enough to ask permission to link to it. I sat and stared at the email and cried. Joyous tears mind you. This email was from a writer I admire. Someone who’s own speaker’s classes I’ve yet to attend because of finances, but want to dearly.
I was simultaneously thrilled and scared. He read my blog? oohh – The holy spirit left my brain and Deana kicked in. I can’t write now.. what if I write something stupid and he sees it.
Yep – me at my most real – fearful and neurotic.
Then God kicked in… somewhere deep and still and said “write baby girl, write.”
I know what Joy would tell me, if I’d shared this with her, “Well aren’t you full of yourself today?” Which is her way of saying “get over yourself and focus on God.”
So.. My eyes are back on the author and perfector of my faith.. I had a blog here for today, and the rapport step was just supposed to be the opening. Then I decided I liked the opening, but not the blog. So.. I’m leaving the opening for now. I hope you don’t mind.
I have a feeling, I’ll be looking at riders next year. Not the focus I was planning – but it’s the message that keeps finding me.
Be blessed.
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You’ve heard of hanging chads right, well this is a hanging rapport step. I learned about Rapport Steps from a workshop I went to last summer. After listening to our teacher take us into her stories in such a way that I felt like I was really there, I laid down everthing I thought I knew about speaking, put myself on hiatus and became a full blown student.
I hate it when I listen to a speaker and they use a story that obviously isn’t theirs, it robs them (in my eyes) of authenticity. Her stories were real and they made a real difference. I want to learn how to use my own experiences as rapport steps to stay authentic.
As a writer and speaker I know that rapport steps are supposed to be written last. I originally wrote this one to open a very specific message. Only when I finished writing it, I realized it didn’t fit with that message anymore.
As I’ve said before,I’m a teacher and I’m also student. I have been blessed to speak at various retreats and events over the years and right now I am on an intentional hiatus. Right now I’m putting myself thoughtfully and with purpose at the feet of people who are gifted in this area, traveling to do so when needed, so that I might learn from them. I have talent as far as speaking goes, and I get to use that talent, for God, in my own church at times. I also feel led by God to stretch that wall farther out. I want to be better. Not much of a sales pitch right now, I know. But I’m not selling anything so it’s okay.
I really wanted to write a really spiritual blog for the end of the year, after all everyone else is – instead dear readers, I leave you with a hanging rapport step as well as my heart. The heart of a student. The heart of a woman who knows the true rider first hand. A woman who sat by the fires of life only to have him appear out of the darkness, pick me up and carry me off.
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I love cowboys. Real cowboys make me weak in the knees and render me speechless. All that hat tippin, and the way they drawl out “Maaa’aam.” So polite and so tall. Who needs Armani suits and Hollister cologne? Give me a real cowboy any day; all rough and tumble, scarred hands and polite hearts, a love for God, family, the outdoors, and for this great country.
Cowboys bring out the wow, with a capital W.
Don’t worry – my husband already knows that real cowboys can make me swoon when I least expect it. He’s kind of okay with that now. He wasn’t always, but he’s learning to be.
Living in Oklahoma, you’d think that would be a given. Loving cowboys that is. But it isn’t a given if you are from up north and never met one before. I’ve only lived in Tulsa for 15 years and I didn’t meet a real live cowboy until just six years ago. His name is Dale and he goes to my church. His wife, Janel used to teach Bible studies when we first joined Our Savior, and when I met her she was engaged to this tall drink of water cowboy who helped with her ranch. She was smitten. Jo, as we call her, is from Montana, she’s a rancher and it only makes sense that she would marry another rancher. Everyone was dying to meet him. And meet him, we did. That’s when I found out that cowboys can make me swoon.
They were having a cowboy BBQ at her ranch complete with a bon fire and the whole church was invited. As we were walking up, Jeff and I could see someone squatting down over a dug out pit in the ground, stirring a pot of cowboy chili so we went over to introduce ourselves.
Dale saw us approach and stood up to say hello. I think he’s about 6’2, but I’m not sure. I just know he’s tall. Dale shook Jeff’s hand and I stuck out mine to shake his. He looked at my hand and then this cowboy slowly turned to look at me. Instead of shaking my hand, he bent at the knees just a touch, touched the front rim of his hat, with his right hand, bowed his head ever so slightly, looked me in the eyes, held my gaze, and drawled out this “Maa’aaam” like I’d never heard it before.
My whole body just went limp. My hand that I’d stretched out to shake his suddenly found the collar of my denim jacket and didn’t know what to do. My eyes widened trying to take in the whole picture. My cheeks turned bright pink, and my mature grown woman’s alto voice, cracked and giggled like a school girl. All that came out my throat was an estrogen blush of a whisper of “oh my!”
Ah yes, that was definitely a day and year to remember. And if I forget, Jeff won’t. He hung his head and buried his face in his right hand like he does when I’ve done something crazy – it’s the “Let the world just swallow me right now” sign he sends from time to time. Dale turned and winked at him and when he saw him later he said “Sorry man.”
Later at the bon fire, I saw Dale ride in from out of the darkness, pass Jo, reach down and in one swoop pick her up and place her on the horse behind him and off they rode.
WOW
What woman doesn’t want a rider like THAT? ————————-
Side note: Dale and Jo got married the following year, and we were all there. They still go to our church and have two beautiful children. Raising young kids and teaching horseback riding keep Jo too busy to teach, but they are still our friends. And I still like cowboys – riders make me swoon what can I say? With good reason, but I’m ahead of myself.
This video clip is “Cowgirls Don’t Cry”, with Brooks and Dunn and Reba at the CMA’s. I love the message in this song – it came out originally with the movie “Flicka” – and it stuck with me all these years.
The whole Cowgirls don’t cry thing, isn’t all that true – but the riding part? Definately.
“When the servant of the man of God got up and went out early the next morning, an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city. “Oh, my lord, what shall we do?” the servant asked.
“Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.”
And Elisha prayed, “O LORD, open his eyes so he may see.” Then the LORD opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.”
Elisha was outnumbered. The enemy laid in wait from every side, and yet he wasn’t afraid. His servant? Well that was a different matter. It wasn’t the first time that Elisha had chariots. He was there when his mentor Elijah (2 Kings 2:12) was taken up in a chariot of fire. He knew they were there – and he prayed that God open the eyes of his servant that he might also see.
Sometimes we miss the chariots that surround us – sometimes God uses the faith of a servant/child to open our hearts to the possibilites of faith. Open the eyes of our hearts Lord, that we like Elisha may see your chariots.
When my boys were born, I kept the baby monitors on full blast so that I could hear the slightest sound and run in, should they need me. When they were sick, I slept on the floor next to their crib. You might say, I was a zealous new mother. I don’t know who learned how to sleep through the night first, me or my boys. Even today, I still have one ear cocked just in case.
My youngest son has epilepsy. He had his first grand mal seizure while napping in our bed at six-years-old. (If you don’t know what Grand Mal means, it’s where the whole body convulses. Pretty scary stuff. ) He’d had a migraine that morning and we were resting. The seizure took me by total surprise and I called the paramedics in a panic.
I would try to sleep in our bed after that and would invariably wind up on his bedroom floor listening. I kept this pattern up for about a month, before finally letting go. A year went by before he had another seizure.
On Father’s Day 2000 Dillon woke up with slurred speech, short term memory loss, and substantial muscle weakness on the left side of his body. The paramedics said it was a TIA or “mild Stroke.” The neurologist called it “Epilepsy” which really just translates to “seizure disorder.” or more simply put “Out of Mom’s Control.”
I don’t think so.
Both Dillon and I were afraid to sleep at night. My maternal instincts kept me awake listening for the slightest noise, so that I could run in and be there should he need me. I did not have the strength to sleep. My friends and I prayed continually for healing and for peace.
Every night our family would pray together that Jesus would hold Dillon while he slept and that God would send his angels down to watch over us and keep all of us safe. And we would try to crawl in to His lap for peace and comfort. Everyone, in their own beds, and no sleeping on the floor.
One night while we were sitting on our back porch swing rocking and singing together, Dillon asked me how I knew God would send his angels. I told him I just do, that it was about faith. But he looked up and said, “No Mommy. How do you KNOW He will.”
What happened to the easy questions, like “Where do babies come from?” That one I had an answer for. So I said a quiet prayer for the right words to say. How do I explain that I heard that prayer somewhere – I had no idea if it’s real or not, or where I heard it. I just did and thought it was cool.
It was one of those crystal clear Oklahoma nights where the sky just goes on forever, and I pointed at the stars and asked him what he saw. (My intent was to say if God can hang the heavens then surely he could send a few angels to watch over a child.) Dillon looked at the stars and said something only a child could say,
“EYES!”
“Eyes?” I replied. “I see stars.”
He said “Yeah Mommy, ANGEL EYES!”
With that he ran out to the middle of the yard, threw his head and his arms back and said, “Wow Mommy! Look at all the angels God sent to watch over me!” Then he gave me a quick hug and a kiss and ran back to bed, sleeping soundly for the first time in ages.
I of course, did not run straight to bed and sleep soundly. I fell flat on my face before the God of the universe in my backyard and asked him to see what my son sees.
Elisha saw Chariots, Dillon sees angels and I am learning to see the hand of God at work in ways I never imagined.
It is so easy in today’s world to feel outnumbered.
Feeling isn’t the same as real.
Sometimes we need our eyes opened
Sometimes we just need to look for chariots.
(February 10, 2014) – Dillon is seizure free today – five years, six months, and counting.
And Elisha prayed,
\”O LORD, open his eyes so he may see.\”
Then the LORD opened the servant\’s eyes,
and he looked and saw the hills full
of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.”
I remember being a little girl in the playground. The normal taunts would be passed around, and sure enough someone (usually me) would shout back, “Yeah, well I’m rubber and you’re glue. What you say bounces of me and sticks to you.”
Brilliant rebuttal. Unless you are sitting in church, instead of a play ground. And you are now in your 30’s instead of ten.
I thought I had a word for somebody once, but I was wrong. It turns out I can be one of those people sitting in the pews, listening to the sermon, taking notes and thinking to myself, “Wow I really wish so and so was here to hear that! That really applies to them.” Funny how those sermons always seem to apply to someone else, but never me.
I was working at an office at the time and received a phone call after a staff meeting. Someone had left their coffee cup warmer on and could I please go turn it off. Feeling rather bothered by what I viewed as a silly request, I turned off his cup warmer and left his office, leaving behind a full cup of coffee. I knew if I left it there over the weekend the coffee would get all moldy, and frankly I didn’t care. This would be the day that God chose to speak to my heart. “Empty and wash the cup Deana.”
I was really not in a generous and giving mood that day, nor was I in the mood to do such a humble act of kindness for somebody. But I listened to the voice. Once I emptied the cup, I noticed that while the outside was pretty clean, the inside was stained black with coffee stains. Matthew 23:25 came to mind – “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean. “
Okay, well it didn’t exactly come to me like that, it was more of a “isn’t there a verse somewhere in the Bible about dirty cups? I think it’s Matthew.” and I had to go look it up.
This would be when brilliant, rubber hearted, me, thought I had a word for someone else. I mean, it was much too harsh to apply to me, right? Thankfully, I left that word unspoken. I cleaned the cup and put it back in it’s place.
I later shared my experience with one of my girlfriends. Joy has a gift for telling the truth. She also has the spiritual gift of prophesy and I was excited that God had actually given me a word and I wanted to know what to do with it. She listened to me and asked me what I thought God was trying to teach me with that. I went into my “them” rant and she very gently stated that when God uses an object lesson in her life, the message is usually about her and I might want to view it from that perspective. Truth telling friends can really rain on a parade, you know what I mean?
My life was, at that particular season, about to fall apart, but I didn’t know that yet. At that time, I was cloud nine head over heals in love with God, believing the Gospel for everyone around me, and hoping to keep the hidden things hidden. My hidden things were ugly. My hidden things had deep stains on my spirit. My hidden things kept me a prisoner to the fear of being found out.
The reality of those hidden things spoke to me more frequently than God and told me I could “go this far, but no farther, remember what you are.” Listening to the enemy is never a good thing, but I was so accustomed to his voice, I didn’t realize who was speaking. Listening to the enemy, I polished my outer cup while filling the inside with everything I could to hide the stains.
Hungry for a fresh word from God, I would sit and study, teach and learn and wonder why he seemed so silent. He had words for everyone else it seemed, but not me. That didn’t stop me from singing, or from taking everything I could from the bible and memorizing it to hold onto. My brain was filling up to over flowing, but my heart was breaking. I would go and sing, and literally shake when in the presence of Christians I feared.
Failing to fully grasp that simple message that God so loved the world (insert ME) he sent his only begotten son, brought on one of the worst seasons of idolatry, heartbreak, and brokenness I have ever experienced. My own cup, was running over and time was running out. Hidden things get moldy when ignored. If God couldn’t find a way to connect my heart and my head soon, my cup was going to break. And break it, he did.
Just a short blog really. Ton’s to write about, but little time at the moment. I’m too busy enjoying my kids and my husband during Christmas break.
I will write this: My day began with emails from some CCA people. (CCA is the Christian Comedy Association, with members like Chonda Pierce, Ken Davis, Nazarath, and other Christian speakers and artists too numerous to mention, all of us Christian.) It started with a word of encouragement from our President of CCA, followed by an Amen from one member. Another shared the wisdom of how important it is *not* to contract food poisoning while in Cambodia on New Years (his web page is ironically called throwingup.com – he’s a juggler) and then my next email following this chain was another exhortation for the new years.
Life’s up’s and downs in one chain. All I could do was look at those emails (from a few of my hero’s in the faith and industry) and consider myself blessed beyond measure, that God would allow me to be part of such an amazing group of speakers, comics, and evangelists.
2007 was a rough year for some of us, depression, cancer, epilepsy, ministry struggles, and what not. A friend lost her nephew to suicide last night, and another lost her husband this morning. More of life already unfolding. And yet “because of the Lord’s Great love, we know that we will not be consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning. And no matter what this day brings, His faithfulness is great. (lam 3:22-33)
On the morning of the great Tulsa ice storm, I sat on my back porch with my coffee wrapped in a blanket, whining at God about the devastation taking place right before my eyes. Standing proud and presently unharmed was my maple tree. She was my lone tree. The only one left. So I started talking to her, much like an old friend. “You’re strong you know. Beautiful. This storm doesn’t mean anything. You are a Maple Tree. Created to last. Created to withstand harsh winters. Created to give fruit (maple syrup) to other’s. You are important. Hang in there.”
Great words of affirmation – even if it was for a tree. Then I started talking to God. Asking him to spare my last remaining tree. The one my kids climb. The one that is about 20 years old. No, it doesn’t look like much – but it’s my tree God. And then he whispered in my heart, “I am the vine, and you are the branches.”
Wasn’t that cool of God? Speaking to my heart in the storm. Reminding me of his faithfulness. Putting a scripture on my heart just when I needed it most. I snuggled down in my blanket with my cup of coffee in my hands for warmth, and felt for a moment, cozy and safe in His arms.
Then from out of nowhere, I hear this C-A-R-A-C-K!!!!
Down falls the biggest branch from my sad maple tree.
“Oh Thanks a lot God!, Great Visual! Here I am all happy to be part of your vine – YOU put that verse on my heart. It’s not like I made it up you know~! Yeah, I’m comforted.
With that, more branches fell.
This time, I hunkered back down in my blanket, not in secure warmth, but more like a childish pout. He could have left me like that, but he didn’t. Again I heard his whisper, “You don’t get it, do you? YOU’RE not that tree, and my vine? Nothing can snatch you away, no storm, no weight, no sin. Your name is carved into my hand, and you are mine.”
You don’t have to drive far to see how badly this last storm whiped out some of our greatest trees. It’ll be a long time before Tulsa looks the same. Our streets are lined with the debris, waiting for FEMA to pick it up. And yet, God’s word remains.
His mercies are new each day, “in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 31-39
And in case someone hasn’t told you lately. “You’re strong you know. And when you’re not feeling so strong, remember that God is stronger. You are beautiful. This present storm in your life doesn’t mean anything. You might be pressed, but you will not be crushed by it’s weight. You are created to last. Created to withstand harsh winters and sweet summers. Created to bear fruit to other’s. You are important, to God and to me. Hang in there.”
Speak to the storms in your life, and most importantly speak to God.
Deana O'Hara - Speaker, Comedian, Writer 