Of a Skeleton in My Closet

I've never talked about this.

Some people's high school experiences are full of proms and school and friends.  I praise my parents that they made an effort to give me that in spite of the circumstances.

This post is about judgement.

She moved in when I was thirteen.  A witty, generous, beautiful woman, with brown hair that went to her waist and crystal clear blue eyes.  The light kind.  The kind that laughed.  But she was sick.  

And for awhile it was fine.  But then it really wasn't.  

Oh how I judged her.  How I saw her flaws.  We took such good care of her, how could she hide herself in her room and cry all the time.  Didn't she want to be with her family?  Why was she so ungreatful?

Now, looking back, I remember her giving money to the homeless without fail.  Now I remember her style.  Now I think of the things she gave me.  Strength.  Boldness to think differently and live differently.  Where I saw depression then, now, I only remember her love.

Oh how I judged her.  I said she didn't know God.  But this woman prayed deep in her heart and loved powerfully.  

Some people's highschool experiences were full of like and parties and experimentation.  Mine was full of changing adult diapers and spoon feedings.

She was sad all the time.  

"Are you scared?"

Her perfect eyes filled and her lip quivered. 

"Yes."

I held her hand.  What do you say?  How do you say it's gonna be ok when it's not gonna be ok?  That you both know that in a few short months she'll be gone.

Her fear terrified me.  

I wish I'd known how wrong I was then.  To assume disgratitude for our kindness when in truth it was fear of the end.  How could I have been so insensitive?

You may have thought I didn't talk a lot in highschool.  You might have thought I was awkward and assumed it was cause I was homeschooled.  

I didn't talk or try to be outgoing to new people cause I was busy thinking about the death I was observing take place in the room next to me.  

But I felt your judgement keenly.

As she felt mine.  

This loving, beautiful, brave woman who loved deeply and didn't put up with other people's shit.  This woman who was wounded and frightened.  

I held her hand.  When she couldn't cry anymore.  And she'd chew carrots and spit them out cause her throat didn't work anymore.  Every day I held her hand.  And wept.  I needed to be home to hold her hand.

It happened when I wasn't home.  Having a social life.  I was eighteen.  

Resolutions are for New Years not Thanksgiving.  But I'm making one.  Let me never judge another person's heart.  I will suspend my judgement and try to see how they see, and feel how they feel.

Maybe then I can love how my Grandmother loved.

I Shall Not Want

As of right now I have only $20 towards my outreach fund.  We leave in two weeks.  I need a total of $4800.  

I really like my comfort zone.  I am very intimidated by new circumstances. 

This song is amazing.  Deliver me, Oh God, from all my fears, insecurities, and selfishness.

She is singing my heart.

Of God's Secrets

My family is really big into Christmas traditions, as I'm sure most families are.  We get milkshakes from Big Al's and drive around looking at lights, go to church Christmas Eve, draw names out of a hat for secret santa, and eat a lot of food on Christmas day.

Last year there was some debate amongst the Goddard clan, whether to continue in our tradions or chuck it all and go somewhere exotic the following year.

This is where the story gets interesting and God plays a little game with me.  You see I heard this conversation completely differently than the rest of my family did.

Dad:  "So I work with a guy who has a time share in Fiji and he offered to let us use it for Christmas this year."

Jill:  "What???  And you're telling us now?"

Jessica:  "No!  That would be horrible.  I like our traditions.  Christmas should be cold.  Not islandy."

Me:  "I kinda think it would be awesome.  I just wanna go somewhere outside of the U.S. for once."  Lord, that would be sooo awesome.  I wanna spend Christmas in Fiji next year.  

And so on and so forth went the debate.

Fast forward to September a week or two from my departure...

Jessica:  "Where are you going on outreach?"

Me:  "I don't know.  I mean probably some Islands.  Like Fiji.  Haha maybe I'll spend Christmas in Fiji after all."

Jessica:  "You mean Tahiti?  Dad said Tahiti."

Me:  "....You're totally wrong.  I swear he said Fiji."

Jessica:  "I know he said Tahiti because I'm scared of Fiji and would have thrown a fit."

Me:  "You DID throw a fit.  He said Fiji."

Enter Jillian.

Jessica:  "Jill, did dad say that his coworkers time share was in Fiji or Tahiti?"

Jill:  "Tahiti."

Me:  "WHAT??  There is NO way.  I swear I heard Fiji."

Enter Mark.  Repeat conversation.

Enter Dad.  Confirms that he did indeed say Tahiti.

How could I have gone a whole year thinking he had said Fiji??  What is wrong with me?

Fast forward to the night when our outreach locations are announced.  I knew in my heart Fiji would be one of them.  I was right.  We took ten minutes to pray about it and confirm it.  I remembered the conversation from the year before.  And I knew Fiji was my location.

There were so many people who signed up for the Fiji/ Line Island outreach that they made two teams. One team would start on Christmas Island and the other would start on Fiji, then we would switch.

Guess who is spending Christmas on Fiji?  That's right.  This kid.

I am still needing a lot of support for this portion of the trip.  If you feel led to support me you can give here:http://ywamships.net/give/

Thanks guys!

YWAM Fiji God Missions

Of Once Upon a Time, Grace, Actions, and Hampster Circles

What do you do on a Saturday when you slept wrong and can't turn your head?  You watch three episodes of Once Upon a Time cause you are a nerd and you miss your nerd sisters.  And then you read the book of Jonah, and somehow, weirdly, the two go together.

Once Upon a Time is the most Jesusy show I've seen on TV.  Sometimes they full on quote scripture, (this happened mostly in season one, and I don't remember the scripture, I just remember they quoted it.)  It's all about redemption, second chances, shame, saviors, lies, etc.  Even the evil people have depth as to why they are evil, and the "good" people aren't infallable.  The script and acting are both a bummer.  But the plot is fun.

I watched the Peter Pan episode cause Peter Pan is my favorite, and I was so sad afterwards because they made Peter be a super creepy kidnapper spirit ghostie guy and Captain Hook was kind of less evil than I like him to be.  Ugh.  Also, Wendy?  Maybe if a black spirit/ghost/shadow with glowing silver slits for eyes offers you his hand, probably don't take it...because...why?  That would be dumb.

But that's ok, because, like everyone else in the show you're human, and you get a second chance too.  Only now, the guy I was hoping would be Peter, gets sucked away by creepy ghostie and becomes your sacrifice.

The show in general started to go more karma focused and less redemption focused.  Like one bad deed gets negated by a good one, with the overall message that you redeem yourself.  Rubbish.  But then again I totally live my life that way and so do you.  So does everyone, because we are taught that good actions are rewarded and bad actions require punishment.  But then Jesus says he is love and there is no fear in love because fear involves punishment.  So He doesn't punish us.

This trips my brain out.  Because according to Jesus, we are set free from this mindset.  Good deeds are a good thing, and have good things come from them, but bad deeds go from punishment to natural consequences.  I always try to earn God's love and I always think in the back of my head that I'm going to hell if I don't do all the right things.  But I know that actually I've been redeemed, there is a thing called grace that I do not understand, and that His yoke is easy and His burden is light, and all I have to do is abide.

But then I just used the "do" word again.  Which is an action.  So actions are necessary for salvation?  Because abiding is doing.  Choosing Jesus is an action.  And yet I'm saved by grace not by works.  But what is a work?

And then there's Jonah!  Who gets sacrificed by some sailors to a giant fish so that he's the only one who has to drown.  How rude.  I really like how patient God is with Jonah.  He asks him all kinds of questions.  And Jonah clearly knows God.  Quite well, because he tells God that he knows that he is loving and slow to anger.  Clearly kinda taking advantage of the grace.  And he's not disappointed, God indeed does show grace to him, and to an entire nation.

I don't get it.  But I suppose I don't have to.  Maybe grace is too large a concept for my mind to grasp.  But freedom lies in the graspin of it.  So I'll just keep trying.  Which is still an action.  And then I start all over again!

And then when my brain has run in enough hampster circles, it's time to watch another episode.

Happy Weekend!

Of Wounds

I don’t know why it hurt so much this time around.  It’s happened before.  Maybe because I’ve been through hell and back then shamed for my “actions.”  Maybe because unless you’ve walked through it your thinking is bound to be only one dimensional.  Flat dimensions hurt people because they don’t allow room for understanding and empathy.  

There is, I think, a distinction in the love I have and the lust I was subjected to.  And yet they think one begets the other.  But even if there isn’t a distinction, I don’t think anything but beauty comes from ashes.  Don’t call this pearl trash because of the wound from which it comes.  Maybe they are swine and I shouldn’t have shown them in the first place.    

But anyway, this pain is exponentially worse than before.  In between panic attacks it aches in such a physical way as I’ve never known it to ache.  Like a gaping, bleeding, festering, rawness.  I can’t even describe to you the pain.  But I often hold my hand over it and weep, each pump pushing the tears out in a steady rhythm, as if the pain could be pumped out from my eyes.  Afterwards I’m sore from all the pumping.  And it feels like I ran a race and it is still trying to slow down.  Sometimes after climbing the stairs I need to sit down because this feeling in the physical and emotional combined makes me feel like I might faint.  

I think it’s getting better.  It started with moments.  Moments where I felt normal, not even peaceful, just normal.  Moments when I could smile.  Laughing made me feel like passing out.  And once I started I couldn’t control it and it would take over in hysteria and eventually become tears.

The moments slowly got longer.  Until they became days.  Some days I feel it four or five times for fifteen minutes at a time.  Some days I only feel it once.  Sometimes Jesus kisses me on the cheek and says, “We’re gonna get you healed.”  One time He said, “You need to be gracious with yourself.”  Then I began to be able to see people again.  In between the moments of fear and pain I could start to love again slowly.  

And I realized that sometimes there is peace that passes all understanding, and sometimes I just need to forgive myself for feeling terrible.  I can lay down and not perform and not talk and not be nice and not go to things I’m supposed to because I need to feel like shit for a minute.  I had to let go of the expectations I had for myself, so I could stop being a disappointment to myself.  And then I could realize that I’m not a disappointment to Him.

Then when I just allow myself the grace to feel it, I don’t.