Big Honkin' Learning Curve

You think things should get easier as life goes on b/c you've "been there done that".

Yeah. Right.

I'm finding the curve in my learning curve has deepened and steepened to pitches unheard of. Around every corner I'm finding life is surprising me in some horrifying and interesting ways.

Right now I'm learning how to be strong. My friend and colleague, Todd Carrasco (Columbine HS drumline and Malachi Independent Winter Guard) is chanting Kia Kaha to me. It means "be strong" in some tribal language from New Zeland - I'm going to have to find out for sure on that one.

I'm at a crossroads where giving up and walking away would be the easy and even understandable thing to do. I'm learning success isn't about scores and placements. I'm learning how I handle crisis and situations that call for full blown freaking out will shape how my young padawan learners (AKA guard students) deal with crisis later in life.

I'm learning to think on my feet w/o panicking.

I'm learning to breathe deep and pray, trusting God will work things out - especially b/c He put me in this very place knowing all this very stuff would happen. That means I need to stick and be strong.

I'm learning I love my students fiercely and will fight for them as if they were my own kids. I refuse to let bad decisions made by some take away the very thing they are striving so hard to achieve.

I'm learning foundations go deeper than basic skills. Building trust, developing parental support, involvement and excitement are more valuable than a medal and need to come before the basic skills can be built and achieved. Especially when building a new program.

I'm learning my colleagues are there for me and we are a team. Even folks who direct other units are coming alongside of me in support. They see the potential in my students and the program and want to invest and help us out. Sure, we may compete against each other on the floor, but working together and supporting each other puts a whole new spin and fun in competition. It really does redefine success.

I'm learning tenacity and responsibility are not dead in today's teens. Today's teens have heart, grit and a maturity that is aching to be expressed. They are yearning for a cause or purpose to get behind and fight for. Contrary to a lot of eduspeak/psychobabble, there are kids today willing to sacrifice for a cause. I'm talking about kids being raised in an entitlement culture! These kids are seeing through the emptiness and are shucking it off, begging to shuck it off and learn self-discipline. Wow.

But it takes time, pain and perseverance to find those kids.

Yeah, life in my litterbox kinda hurts right now as I'm scrambling to Make Things Work in a few hours. But I'm seeing great joy in how my team is pulling together to overcome. Regardless of scores and placements.

Go Rebels!

It appears I'm dead, but I'm not.

September? Seriously?

I think I broke my own record for blog silence.

Can't count high enough to tell you how many times I've been asked, "Are you dead?"

No, I'm not dead. Felt like it at times, maybe wished I was, but I'm alive, kicking and coughing - thanks to the flu-y type things floating around.

Over the past few months I've been taking a break. Kinda reevaluating my life. What's important. What's not. Chasing ways to Make More Money and getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

Learning the definition of the words "simplify" and "focus".

I've come to the conclusion that I've been trying to do too much for all the wrong reasons. I've been struggling and fighting in my own strength the solve the How-will-we-feed-our-family-this-week problem. Taking on so much, I get NOTHING done.

Did you know it's possible to do so much you accomplish NOTHING?

Here's what I've learned.

• I'm not the Avon queen - being as disorganized as I am, I can barely handle my own customers on top of being in leadership. I think I need to pass my downline to someone more organized and less scattered and keep my current customers happy
• My novel may take a loooooooooooooong time to sell. Kinda knew that, but reality is hitting. It's time to let the process work and start something fresh and new
• 9 years of teaching guard doesn't mean I got it all down. I'm in a new school, with new kids and feel like I've never done this before. My students are stretching me, challenging me to grow and evolve
• I'm a mom. 3.5 year old boys need their mommies and love it when said mommies disengage from the computer
• Laundry doesn't do itself
• Spreading myself thin makes me holey. When I try to manage a dozen unrelated projects by spreading myself like a small pie crust in a huge pan, parts of me break and gaping holes open up and nothing turns out well
• Litterboxes don't clean themselves
• I've been waiting on Big Things to Happen rather than waiting on the Lord.
• Small boys can flood bathrooms when left to themselves for more than 45 seconds
• Friends are worth more than money
• People do care about me
• God won't let me or my family starve - he'll send people along with groceries or I'll get a call from a friend who found a great deal on potatoes and she bought more than she could use and wants to know if I need some
• Less is more
• I'm not stupid
• I have a destiny (don't know what it is yet)
• This too shall pass

I'm going through some really hard stuff and eventually my energy will return. Getting stronger hurts, but it happens. So, keep on checking back. I'll keep you updated and hopefully will blog more when I feel better.

Hey, I read a non-fiction book... and loved it

It says a lot about a non-fiction book if by the middle of the first chapter it's still in my hands. Even more so if I only put it down ONCE between peeling back the front cover and turning over the back with a satisfied sigh.
Only a mere handful of fiction books have earned can't-put-it-down-even-in-the-bathroom status from my finicky reader self.

Darcie's know the author disclosure: Kim Woodhouse is a good friend of mine. I've met her family and been to The House. I've even gone swimming with Kayla (she's a beast in the water let me tell you). So when I say reading Welcome Home is like sitting and listening to Kim tell her
family's story in her own voice, I know what I'm talking about.

Life is hard right now. Harder than ever for most of us who don't even have family members alive who lived through the Great Depression. People are wondering where God is. Americans, myself included, bought into the lie that if you love God and obey Him, life will be prosperous and full of vim and vigor.

Currently, people are either turning toward Him in the tough times or walking away. Welcome Home couldn't have been released at a better time. Kim doesn't come across as this unflappable churchy girl who bounces around on her tip toes saying, "God is good. All the time. All the time, God is good," to everyone she meets.

She's brutally honest about those bleak moments when God seemed invisible or absent. Her pain and hope are shared with clarity; even the studliest reader will be hunting for a tissue box. And think about the true nature of God and our purpose here on earth.

Most of all you will laugh. My poor asthmatic mom started hyperventilating while reading about an incident where the TSA suspected Kim of being the next uni-bomber. There is a lot of pain in Kim's story, but the pain juxtaposed on the joy is what makes the joy extreme.

You gotta go get yourself a copy of this book. Christmas is coming, nab a few for presents.

And best yet, pick up a few extra copies to hand out to people who are really hurting right now because life just sucks for them.

Happy reading!

Kimberley Woodhouse is a wife, mother, author, and musician with a quick wit and positive outlook despite difficult circumstances. A popular speaker, she’s shared at more than 600 venues across the country. Kimberley and her family's story have garnered national media attention for many years, but most recently her family was chosen for ABC's Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, The Montel Williams Show, and Discovery Health channel’s Mystery ER. Welcome Home: Our Family’s Journey to Extreme Joy, releases from Tyndale House Publishers September first. In addition to her non-fiction, she also writes romantic suspense and children’s books. Kimberley lives, writes, and homeschools in Colorado with her husband and two children in their truly “extreme” home. www.kimberleywoodhouse.com

Here's the blurb on the book

Overwhelming trials . . . met with overcoming joy.
Kayla Woodhouse is not your typical twelve-year-old. Due to a rare medical disorder, she feels no pain, doesn’t sweat, and needs protective cooling gear just to go outside. With her restrictive lifestyle; countless hospitalizations, including brain surgery; and the resulting mountain of hospital bills, what’s a family to do?

How the Woodhouse family has faced seemingly impossible challenges is a story that has captured the hearts of America. Millions of people have experienced glimpses of their lives on Discovery’s Mystery ER, The Montel Williams Show, and Extreme Makeover: Home Edition (recently voted one of the show’s all-time best episodes!).

Now Kayla’s mom, Kimberley, takes readers behind the cameras to reveal their family’s journey as never before told. From medical sleuthing to cross-country moves, from freak fires to battles with insurance companies, Welcome Home proves that truth really is stranger than fiction. This candid life story reveals both success and failure and demonstrates how, even during tough circumstances, to shift your life from heartbreak to extreme joy.

Peek inside the Woodhouse family’s life (and their famous house) with a 16-page photo insert.

Is a dog just a dog?

Many of you may know via Twitter or Facebook, that my dog is very ill. He's suffering from a horrible affliction called fly strike. Never heard of it before and never want to see it again. There's a lot of it happening right now in long haired dogs b/c flies are laying eggs.

Adult flies are attracted to things that stink, including dogs. Caleb had a short bout of the squirts. Despite me washing his bottom when I noticed the need, a fly had already laid eggs in the mess. Fly eggs hatch within 8-12 hours. Fly larvae are maggots. Maggots are born hungry and look for stuff to feed on. They start with the ick, then bore into the skin. All within 8-12 hours.

If a dog has long hair, the problem may not be noticed right away. The first thing we noticed was the stench. Didn't know what it was. Next day the dog was lethargic and barely moving.

As the hours ticked by, the stench worsened and he started oozing from who knows where (Sheltie, long hair).

Caleb had to go to the ER Sunday night. He was shaved from neck to tip of tail. The maggots started traveling up his back bone under the skin.

Yesterday he wasn't doing as well as the ER vet hoped. As I type he's in the hospital until he's stable. Hopefully we can bring him home today.

Vet care is expensive. We are in a rough spot. Food banks, past-due bills, day to day decisions on what's important and what we can live without. Most of America is feeling similar pain in the bank.

I've received some comments from people; "He's just a dog! You can't afford this. Just let him die."

I'm combining comments above. No one person said all that in one sentence.

The moment we knew Caleb had to go to the ER, John and I were physically sick. The ER fee alone is $100. We debated waiting until morning. We consulted with vet techs. But Caleb kept getting worse. Both of us felt it would have been awful to let Caleb simply die b/c we didn't have the money to pay for his care. Neither one of us could live with that.

We took him in. Good thing. He probably would have died before morning.

But he wasn't doing too well yesterday. I was preparing myself for the "he's suffering too much, probably won't make it" talk. Tearfully praying my way through the day for the strength to let go if I he wasn't going to make it.

Caleb is a strong little dog. The vet has seen worse. Caleb's being screened for underlying diseases (less cost now than later if more complications arise). The vet and vet tech did not recommend putting him down. He has too much life and a great quality of life. His recovery will be hard and ugly, but they believe he may pull through if his blood tests come back good.

The maggots have done a lot of damage. Caleb may require surgery (worst case scenario) to debride all the dead tissue on his back. About a whopping 9 square inches! Dollar signs are floating in front of my face.

"Just let him die."

How far does one go?

My gut feeling is this: Caleb is a part of my family. God gave us stewardship over animals back when Adam and Eve were in Eden. God knows when one sparrow falls from the sky. He cares about his creation.

Caleb is our responsibility. His doggy life is not worthless. No life is. Yes, human life is above animal, but no humans are gonna die from this.

Both John and I are feeling like we need to take care of the life entrusted to us over 9 years ago. We are trying hard to trust God will provide to cover Caleb's care and treatment.

Okay, so we go back to the food back this weekend. I need to find more and new Avon customers and get through the revision of my novel and pray it sells. We don't spend money on anything that's not a dire need. We pray the IRS will continue to have patience regarding back taxes. We pray God will cause Caleb's skin to heal so surgery is NOT needed.

The vet clinic sees where we are. Kim Woodhouse in her new book, Welcome Home, talks about James 1 2-4 - finding joy in trials. I'm trying to find "joy" in this distress. Potential joy in how the vet and all involved will react when Caleb makes an unexpected turn for the best and God provides the finances to pay. But in the mean time my attitude and John's attitude are key. We can't grump. I'm getting the nudge that I need to believe all this will happen (Caleb gets taken care of) before it does. So not me.

I need to see first, then praise later.

What if...

But that's not faith.

Yes, Caleb is a dog. He's not just a dog, he's my dog. A blessing God placed in my life almost 10 years ago.

UPDATE: Just got word from the vet. Good news. Caleb is doing well. Up and about, devouring food. Vitals are good. He's ready to come home. We'll have to take him in every 5-7 days to have dead skin tissue cut away (think burn victim). Doc wants to avoid surgery. Pray skin heals up very well.

God is good

This past week was scary. Finances were already too tight, then John's salary is cut on top of it all.

But.

God is good.

After a morning of consoling a crying three-year old over the lack of Cheerios or breakfast food, I received a note from a friend telling me God placed it on her heart to wire money. I was able to go out and buy cereal and food for the week!

Last week the cats circled my ankles begging for food. I opened the cabinet and we were just about out. I had to give them a third of their daily serving. I asked God to somehow provide so the animals wouldn't go hungry.

A friend pulled me aside later in the day with the "God placed it on my heart to give this to you." She shoved dollar bills into my hands. Just enough to buy more cat food! Later in the day I was approached by yet another friend who handed me a gift card to the local grocery store as well as some cash. Both from annonymous donors. We were about out of food again and now we can supplement what we picked up at a local food bank last night.

Right now all of our resources are going into keeping our house any paying down the tens of thousands of dollars of medical debt. We still have to alternate which bills get paid each month and which don't (Exel Energy doesn't waste any time calling you again and again reminding you you haven't paid the bill for the month. Sorry. They have to wait till next month.)

Nonetheless, God is providing for our most basic needs. If we lose the house, we have a plan. Kyle and I would have to move to PA. John would stay and work out the details. That would be hard and heart-breaking, but we have a plan. We won't be living in a refrigerator box on the corner of Hampden and Wadsworth!

Things look bleak. But I feel a sense of peace. Those of you who've followed me over the years know that peace isn't exactly an inherent quality of mine. My first reaction to anything hard is FREAK OUT!

I'm finding that when I give up my lust to make it all better, that's when God steps in and acts. My flying around like a bumble bee on speed to make extra money right NOW only gets in His way.

That doesn't mean I'm sitting back in my reading chair analyzing my belly-button. I'm taking reasonable actions to add to our income. There is no fast answer. Building a business takes time. Between my writing and my AVON, hopefully one of these days we can bring home enough to stop going to the food bank we found last night.

Against all my common sense

Gloom, doom and despair. The media and Democrats are trying to stir up such a panic over the economy that people will beg the government for help. It's their way of scaring the American people into allowing them to pass that "stimulus" package.

Obama is spending $200 MILLION to re-seed the mall in Washington b/c his worshipers destroyed it during the inauguration.

Citi Group is spending $400 MILLION of OUR taxpayer bail-out money for vanity rights to name the Yankees stadium after themselves.

The list goes on...

Then there's that guy in CA who lost his job and murdered his family before turning the gun on himself.

Scary stuff.

Saturday I was driving down Pierce on my way to Columbine HS for a winter guard show. Midway, I felt my chest tighten, my breathing shallowed and those weird star things poked into my peripheral vision.

IRS wants our money (peanuts compared to the dude Obama appt'd to take it over - the dude who is filthy stinking rich and "forgot" to pay taxes? The dude who they are letting it slide?). Excell energy wants to turn off the power (again). I need refills on my medications and my prayers for provision have not been answered. My husband is panicking. He's considering a night shift at Taco Bell if he can compete with illegal aliens for the job.

Panic, panic, panic.

I read Oswald Chamber's My Utmost for His Highest yesterday and came across this (again). "Jesus said if we would obey the life of God within us, He would look after all other things. Did Jesus Christ lie to us?...If we are not experience the "much more" He promised...we are not living the life God has given us and have cluttered our minds with confusing thoughts and worries."

A long time ago I read a biography about Oswald Chambers. He wasn't some prune-faced guru sitting in a zen garden smoking lotus leaves. He was a missionary in India. He died in his mid-thirties. All that wisdom in someone who died at my current age. Oswald lived everything he preached. His wife compiles Utmost so his example would live on.

All the disgusting thievery going on in our government and all those other money-grubbing institutions is feeding my fear, my worry, my anxiety. Due dates for essential bills have come and gone. And come and gone. And come and gone. We've prayed, we've cried, we've taken on extra work projects in hopes to make money to meet our basic needs of food, water, electricity, shelter and medicine. And it's far from enough.

Where is God? Where'd He go? Anyone see Him?

He promised to meet our needs.

I stopped believing Him and have been trying to take matters into my own hands (again).

Then I read that little phrase by Oswald: "Did Jesus Christ lie to us?"

Y'know, that thought was stabbing me in the brain before I read those words. The passage in Matt 6 seems to follow me wherever I try to hide. "Do you think I'm a liar?"

How do I answer that to my Lord?

"Oh no, Jesus, you're God for hiccuping out loud! You can't lie!"

"Darcie, you sure live like I'm a liar. Actions are louder than words. I'm hurt."

Then last night a Words for the Journey, my friend Kim Woodhouse spoke to us about writing through adversity. She changed it up a lot since I heard her speak in the fall.

Her family was in great need. Her daughter has a life-threatening condition and they were no-where Alaska. They needed the basics (food, electricity, water and medical stuff). Kim laid on the floor and cried out to God. "Don't you see our need? We are missionaries. We gave up everything to serve you and we are in such great need with no means of meeting them ourselves."

She and God went back and forth. He finally made it clear that she didn't need anything. Not food. Not water. Not clothing or medicine. She only needed Him. He had to be enough.

Slinking down in my chair, I twiddled my thumbs, counted canned lighting in the ceiling.

Kim's dynamic in her presentation and uses her hands. When she told about her begging God and His response, she clamped her hand on my shoulder.

Lord Jesus, could you be a little more obvious?

All that in one day.

The freak-fest in our home isn't only confined to me. My poor husband is a quivering mass of cellular matter. He freaks, I freak. He freaks more, I spaz and get headaches.

My other friend Kay told me (and Kim backed her up - double teamed) I need to focus on the God/me relationship. Let Him take care of John. John needs to focus on his God/John relationship.

But...but... the IRS...

Do I believe my God is bigger than the IRS? Excell Energy? Denver Water? Kaiser Permanente?
Maybe I need to rewrite the Veggie-Tales song, "God is bigger than the boogey man" to "God is bigger than the (pause) IRS".

Here goes. I'm gonna go against any and all common sense I might have and trust God. Not allow myself to get confused and distracted by all the crap swirling around in our world. When I want to panic, I need to run to my Bible. I need to let my friends know so they can pray me through it.

I don't have the strength or intestinal fortitude to do this.

But doesn't He promise He is strong in our weaknesses?

That baby born 2K years ago?

On Google Reader I'm reading a ton of blogs with beautiful, devotional reflections on Christmas.

Additionally, some of my writer friends sent me Tweets and emails wishing me Merry Christmas and sharing Jesus-y thoughts.

Jesus.

Not dirty toilets, spontaneous-combustion stoves, poopy diapers, toddler wrangling (and wrestling), knitted snakes stretched across hallways or all the other compulsory tasks that remain undone.

Jesus.

I'm forcing myself away from aforementioned thingies to reflect on the evidences of Jesus today. In my life. In December.

Most of you know my family dwells in a pit of trials and strife of all kinds. Accidents, injuries, job-losses and chronic pain conditions have depleted us to the brink of nothing. More so now than ever. Our needs increase as the ability to access them decreases.

On our own steam.

A kindly stranger overheard a conversation I was having with a friend about the hardships and weariness that plague my life. Filled with Jesus in her heart, she got my information from my friend after I left and sent me a HUGE check. It arrived in time to lessen my medical debt as I face two more MRIs this coming Sunday. God knew I was going to be hit hard again with headaches and more tests. He provided. I can get my MRIs.

John took his car in for an $18.95 oil change. $1000 dollars later...

God provided by allowing John's boss to double his Christmas bonus this year. He was able to pay for his car and some other unexpected expenses and due payments.

Christmas shopping for us didn't happen. It couldn't. Jesus moved some dear friends to play Santa Clause to my family by showering us with gifts not only for Kyle but for John and I! Something to look forward to tomorrow morning!

Earlier this month, Denver Water sent notice they were going to shut off water to our house due to ONE MONTH's unpaid bill. We're in that place where we have to let some bills go unpaid in order to eat.

In the same batch of mail was an envelope from my parents. In it was a check for the EXACT amount of money owed to Denver Water. I called my parents in tears. How did they know?

Mom said that God impressed it on Dad's heart to send us some money for food and bills. So they did.

This past weekend, Psalm 42 went to the Adams County Detention Center prison. We gave three concerts to two groups of men and one group of women. With each concert, we pulled out a few songs and added personal testimonies. Several men from each group received Christ and the women found hope and encouragement.

Get this. The group elected me to share with the female prisoners. My nerves buzzed with electricity as I agonized over what to share. I've never been to prison... er, a brick and mortar prison...

One young girl sat curled in a ball on the front corner chair. The sadness in her amber eyes was unmistakable. She was at the end. Life offered her nothing but bars and stripes. Why go on.

So I talked about something none of them were able to relate to: depression. After my ironic intro, the floodgates opened. ALL of the women wept. I touched them where they hurt the most. In that moment, God told me to share with them my depression experience that hurt the most. It was as if He asked me to expose my dirty underwear and shake it all around for the world to see. I was trying to forget my darkest moment. Bury it. I'm practically an outsider among certain circles at my church. I've been deemed a threat. Rejected by some of my once best friends. Why bring it out?

When God says "Do." You do.

I felt like a ventriloquist's dummy. The Holy Spirit snaked his hand up my back and moved my mouth. His words fell from my mouth. I didn't spare any details of my darkest moment of wanting to die and trying to do so.

Why am I here today?

Well, there was this little baby boy born 2000 + years ago in Bethlehem. Born to die. Born to save.

In a way I've never experienced before, I shared the gospel. The hope of this Jesus we celebrate. Jesus nudged my husband to come downstairs as I tried to cram pills in my mouth. Jesus surrounded me with new friends from ACFW and WFTJ. Friends who didn't look at me like I was a rotting grape, rather friends who gazed on me with compassion and understanding. Friends who have been there.

These women related with my story. The hope on their faces was the best Christmas present ever. Having God use me, weird little me, to send out a nuclear shock wave in a prison, reinforced His reality.

The chaplain asked if I'd come talk to different pods of women about depression and suicide. It's an epidemic in that place amoung the women.

Is Jesus real?

Yeah.

I wouldn't be here blogging and smelling a poopy diaper if he weren't.

Merry Christmas. Dwell on his presence in your life NOW.

A decade of silence and processed cheese products

One day I'm skulking in Wal-Mart looking for ingredients to make a toasted cheese sandwich. Somewhat of a try-to-eat-healthy person, I veer from processed foods.

Don't need to tell you all about the economy, nor do I want to launch into some snot-inducing sob story but it suffices to say the budget is a little tight.

I had to swallow my pride and buy, not only processed cheese product, but Wal-Mart brand generic processed cheese product.

Have you ever read the ingredients?

I'm positive I tasted recycled bicycle tire in there somewhere.

Anyway, that wasn't a good day.

Most of the past ten years hasn't yielded many good days. Why? Because for the most part, God has been silent.

Those of you who know me well, are aware of the intense trials my husband and I have (and still are) going through. You also know about the beast of depression lurking among the carpet fibers of every room in my house.

Over the course of the past decade I got really good at something. Failing. Failing and beating myself up, inviting all sorts of faith supressing strongholds in my life.

A few weeks ago, God made contact again. In some small subtle ways.

At ACFW, He really showed up in the prayer room. Secret stronghold affecting my entire household were discovered and prayed against.

Here's where it gets really cool.

One of my spiritual moms is in California for a memorial service. I called her today and told her about the conference, the prayer and the other cool thing I have yet to tell you. She started laughing and told me that one month ago, while the prayer warriors of our church met, the senior pastor just blurted out prayers for the healing of my husband's emotional wounds. Others joined in. The prayers, the specifics seemed to come out of nowhere.

What was prayed in that room matched what was prayed at ACFW! God is breaking ten depressing years of silence.

In addition to all of that, I received a call today from an agent I pitched to at the ACFW conference. She offered representation!

Sandra Bishop of MacGregor Literary is my agent! She will represent me as we pitch my novel to the general market.

It's impossible to describe the pain, the hopelessness of the past ten years with words. I just can't do it. I don' t want to right now. But never in my 36 years of life have I ever had such a massive God presence. Such a breakthrough. Little things, never anything as critical as all of the above. Okay, getting married and adopting Kyle are big things.

Right now I'm high. I know high is temporary. Still can't afford real cheese. It's a fallen world out there. More spiritual attacks are coming. I chose the most difficult path to publication. The healing hasn't happened yet, but is promised. I don't know the timeline, and things could still be ugly.

But, there is JOY in my litterbox right now and I'm going to revel in it as long as I realistically can.

Learning to apply

What good is a newly acquired skill if we're never given the chance to apply it?

When I teach foundational skills to the girls in my colorguard, I write those same skills into the show they will perform in competition. We practice what we compete, we compete what we practice.

Common sense, eh?

Then why am I so bugged when God does the same thing to me? He reveals new knowledge, insight, then immediately introduces (or reintroduces) circumstances in my life forcing me to choose: freak out or apply my new skill.

A few days ago I blogged about new insights on idolatry. I'm not as immune as I thought. The whole idea of proportion in my thought life snapped my brain to attention.

This morning we found out some devestating financial news. We decided a few months ago to seek help from one of those get-you-out-of-credit-card-debt negotiators. The negotiators told us our credit rating may take a ding.

To avoid making you suffer through the ugly details, let me just say the credit companies retaliate on many levels when they get wind of you trying to negotiate debt.

I teetered around my living room like a wind-up-toy with a stretched out spring for roughly two hours. "I'm not gonna freak. I'm not gonna panic. I'm not gonna melt -- Kyle! Get off the table! I'm not gonna freak. I'm not gonna-- Kyle, don't drink from the animals' water. Ew."

Panic swelled inside my chest. My heart flopped around like a bucket full of live trout. Tears stabbed at my eyes. I couldn't call anyone. People have had enough of me and my family being in a perpetual state of crisis.

There it sat. On my desk. Beth Moore's Breaking Free. The idolatry lesson hit me like a rouge wave. My mind was obsessing on the certain doom and destruction of my family. Um, I couldn't find any thoughts of God. What's my idol of the moment?

Pushing Kyle out the door to play in the sandbox, I plopped myself at the patio table and opened the book and my Bible with shaking hands. I blazed through two lessons. One on deprogramming and reprogramming (thoughts). The other on taking thoughts captive to Christ.

Okaaaayyyy...

First off I read, "Satan does not have the power or authority to lock believers in a prison of oppression. He works overtime to talk us into staying because he lacks the power to keep us there."

Before you go all OprahTolle on me saying this statement supports the whole "our thoughts create our destiny" belief system, realize Tolle touts humans as being gods. Beth and the Bible talk about our willful choice to either give into one of two opposing powers. God or Satan. One is the victor, the other defeated.

I hate losing. I've spent many years competing on winning teams and coaching winning teams. Why have I been CHOOSING to place my deepest thoughts and fears into the hands of the losing team?

Maybe because in my thought life I've become so accustomed to defeatism it's a reflex reaction.

Financial "bad luck" has plagued us since 2001. Things only get worse no matter how much we cry out to God, have others cry out on our behalf or just get mad.

"Fix it!" is the sum of all prayers.

"God will not release us from anything that has enslaved us until we've come to the mind of Christ in the matter." (wk 9, lesson 5)

I guess there won't be a Wells-Fargo truck full of C notes exploding in my front yard, or a million dollar book contract. Beth in the most non-sacchrine way tell us things won't change until our minds change.

Not, "I will be a millionaire" a million times a day, but by taking a close look at the thoughts making me freakadellic. Are they true? No. If not true, it must be a lie.

Catching my brain in the act of bubbling falsehoods and doomsday prophecies is part of the renewal process. Seeking scripture about God's loving provision and freedom from fear will demolish those lies over time. I also need to be honest with my savior and say, "Hey, I'm spazing out here. I'm thinking we're gonna be on the street in a refigerator box by next Wednesday!"

The mind of Christ. Not oneness with myself. I need to seek out His perspective and adopt it as my own. Otherwise, financial stress will remain my idol. Solutions to the debt and lack of cash flow won't go away until my mind transformes. But then there's no guarantee things will miraculously get better, however, spiritually and psychologically I'll be better able to face it.

Help me out here and shoot me some of your fave Bible verses about God providing and being our anchor. I need to create cards to carry around with me so I can pull them out the moment I feel that pin-cushiony pain of panic popping up.

I learned something today

If you don't already know this, Bible study writer, Beth Moore has to be one of the most anointed human beings alive. Page after page she confronts readers with truths most of us would rather pretend unreal.

A few minutes ago I finished a lesson from Breaking Free that I started over a week ago.

The topic?

Idolatry and the failure to destroy the "high places".

As a post-modern American, I've struggled with understanding this ancient sin. I can't recall seeing any alters built to worship some weird shaped piece of wood. That kind of stuff is only seen in primitive societies filmed by the National Geographic channel.

Then, idolatry was explained as "something I value more than God." Rich people owned by their money and expensive toys were the cliche example. Can't relate there! I'm barely middle-class American.

Sex, drugs and rock 'n roll weren't a problem for me either. So that means...

Anyway.

Beth Moore says in Week 9, Lesson 3 that anything that steals our focus becomes an idol. She goes on to say, "...the object of our imaginations itself is not always sin. The sin may lie solely in the exaltation of it in our own minds."

Now here's where it starts getting personal. "The enemy will capitalize on normal emotions of love or loss to swell them out of healthy proportion. They can consume our lives if we're not aware of his schemes."

So, when I obsess for DAYS over a missed note during a vocal performance or even a rejection from an editor, I'm engaging in the sin of idolatry. Eeek.

None of this means I can laugh off my errors. It's okay to recognize them; learn from them and adjust my performance. Sin happens when I put more effort and thought into thoughts of; "You Big Dummy - how could you? You had that song down cold! What made you think you could pull this off in public?" than I put thoughts into reaching into Scripture and bathing myself in the Truth of how God views me.

"Virtually anything that cheats you of what God has for you could be considered sin."

Um. Uh... well... um, (I'm pulling a Barak Obama here) does that mean when I succumb to "I don't feel like writing today", I'm sinning?

When I know with absolute certainty God called me to do something (write, take care of my knee, spend extra time with Kyle or John) and I choose to do otherwise, I'm elevating my own wants over God's. Idolatry.

"We easily view adultry, robbery, or murder as sin, but we often don't realize that sin can also be anything we allow to grow between us and the glorious completing work of God."

Procrastination, excuses - these all rack up as sin. Christian writers beware. Satan doesn't want our stories published. He doesn't even want them finished. He also doesn't have to work too hard to trip us up either. We can do that well enough on our own.

On the other hand, we can obsess about getting everything Just Right. We've all heard editors and agents rail on and on about how competitive the market is. Only the best of the best of the bestest will be considered.

Perfect plots, opening lines, grammatically pure prose - continuous thoughts of these things not taken captive to Christ can push out God. It's a matter of imbalance. Our time needs to be dominated by maintaining an open communication with God.

Beth doesn't let us out of that one with a pile of excuses about how busy we are. She suggests we maintain that Christ-centered consciousness by steeping ourselves in worship music as we rocket through our day. Make spending time in God's Word a priority (a hard one for me). Being able to strike up a conversation with Him in the middle of heavy traffic.

When that "stuff" exceeds the other "stuff" of our lives, we are avoiding idolatry through the power of our Great God.

Dang. This is gonna be tough.

"They" say it's irrelevant. Well it's not!

Sun and shadows danced around me moments ago while I worked though my Beth Moore Bible study, Breaking Free.

I'm in the final few chapters that focus on God's love. A reality I misunderstood for way too long. A reality, I chose to deny when circumstances vacuumed.

Followers of Christ are not the most beloved, popular people on the planet. And it's not only Christ deniers who beat up and persecute . . .

Beth instructed me to read Psalm 13 asking if David was timid, fearful or bold when he prayed the following:

Long enough, GOD --
you've ignored me long enough.
I've looked at the back of your head
long enough. Long enough
I've carried this ton of trouble,
lived witha stomach full of pain.
Long enough my enemies
have looked down their noses at me.

Take a good look at me, GOD, my God;
I want to look life in the eye,
So no enemy can get the best of me
or laugh at me when I fall on my face.

I've thrown myself headlong into your arms --
I'm celebrating your rescue.
I'm singing at the top of my lungs,
I'm so full of answered prayers.
Psalm 13 ( The Message)

That first block of sentences . . . I could have written them. I've prayed, cried, screamed, moaned, wimpered those very words more times than I care to admit. But I stopped there. I didn't go beyond those very real, very horrid emotions like King David did.

I love David because he doesn't pretend he has it all together. In fact, many scholars believe he may have suffered from bi-polar disorder (manic-depressive). Knowing depression as intimately as I do, that doesn't surprise me.

David doesn't get sucked down for too long. He laments, whines, cries, pleads, screams in the initial parts of his Psalms, but then a God-reality sets in and he welcomes God's perspective. He adopts God's perspective which is the TRUTH about his circumstance.

God's most beloved, the man after God's own heart feels God's ignored him for a long, long time allowing unwarranted suffering and distress in his life. Oooh.

He shifts from despair to telling the Creator of the Universe exactly what he wants. Exactly what I want.

People ask me all the time how they can pray for me, or what I want. Clarity escaped me for years as I undulated in and out of varying degrees of depression. Now I know! I yearn to look life in the eye so no enemy or opponent can get the best of me and laugh at me when I fall flat on my face - which I promise will happen.

Most of my life I've allowed hard circumstances, mean people, and faulty perceptions to define who I am. I bought into Satan's lies about my identity. Gee, this hurts to admit.

I'm a cradle-Christian. Born and raised in a fundamental, evangelical, Bible-believing church. I understood complex doctrine and theology before I hit middle school. Nobody could beat me in a Bible drill. During my short stint in Christian school (K - 4th grade), I was the un-defeated K-12 champion! Finished my AWANA books early to earn scads of points (and candy) for my team.

Head is one thing, heart is another. Yeah, I knew the stuff. Of course Jesus reigned my heart - to a degree - or as far as I'd let Him . . .

Knowing it, and living it are radical opposites.

Life in a fallen world is designed to test our belief system. Unexplainable trials and tragedies exist to aid in through self-discovery - or God discovery. Until a person is tested, no one, including that person, know who she is.

Take the hero's journey (the basic character progression found in great literature from the Bible to modern movies). All classic stories/movies etc remain in people's minds b/c of the element of trial and testing. Characters discover who they are and what they are made of in the face of disaster.

God, THE Storyteller, uses the same character arc in our lives. He lets us be tested so we can be proven.

Beth Moore says God can't be objective or unbiased towards us. We are his children. His love for us is incomprehensible. But, WE must choose to believe He loves us regardless of what life is doing to us.

My near-fatal error is waiting around for evidence of God's love. Make me FEEL your love, Lord, then I'll believe you love me. I've wasted thirty-one years waiting.

Embracing the lie that God must be disappointed in me b/c of all the crap and mess in my life nearly destroyed me a few months back. Christ-Followers base their existence on the unseen - faith.

King David, murderer, adulterer, liar, cheater, theif, hurls himself (I love this phrase) "headlong into God's arms".

He sings at the top of his lungs (a few verses ago his soul bled from perceived abandonment). He is FULL OF ANSWERED PRAYERS.

Okay, the dude, once engaged in prayer, turns a big corner. Check it out - he goes from "you've ignored me long enough" to "I'm so full of answered prayers." Six verses. That's it! Wow.

David is so confident God will respond and answer his plea, he dances around his living room like a madman, singing at the top of his lungs, scaring the royal pets into hiding.

This happened, what? Four thousand years ago? And people today claim the Bible is irrelevant.

Well, it's not. I'm living proof of that. I challenge any of you skeptics to pull a David, pour your guts out on the table in front of the REAL God, and see where He takes you.

Go ahead.

Try it.

I triple-dog-dare-ya.

God is on the move - hasn't He always been?

Amidst all the concern over the blanket of false teaching that is billowing over the whole world via the internet and Oprah, people are seeking and finding the truth.

In considerable numbers and odd places like Boulder, CO.

Less than a month ago, I finally surrendered to God's call into a new realm of ministry. For years, I refused to give in b/c I was content where I was. I'd been attending the same Community Bible Study group for eight years. Deep study of the scripture and the relationships were and still are of high value to me. Why change?

God is using the Big D (depression) to rebuild my ruins. I committed to following His plan vs. mine earlier this year.

I let go of my "blankie" and stepped into Psalm 42 - a vocal/ministry ensemble that operates out of Green Mountain Christian Church in Lakewood, CO. One of my bffs, Susie, has been on my case to join for - oh - five years or so.

Two weeks into this new adventure (and only 2 rehearsals) the group was asked to sing at a memorial service in Boulder. The People's Republic of Boulder, Land of Fruits and Nuts. My apologies to the normal folk who live in that gorgeous place. I'd live there if I could afford it...

Anyway, Boulder is known as Berkley East. Some of the most liberal, immoral ideology eminates from that place.

The woman we memorialized was the sister of a Psalm 42 member. This sister who died, lived in the mental health system. She suffered from paranoid schitzophrenia. The family prayed for her salvation for decades. It wasn't until after her death, the evidence of her salvation revealed itself. This woman, deemed crazy by society, led people to the saving grace of Jesus. Contrary to popular thought, Jesus was able to make sense to her in the delusions of her mind. He got past the illness to the heart of the person.

On the drive up highway 93, we knew God was gonna do something big. I was on crutches, another member of the group blew out a disc in her back and was doped on prescription pain pills, and others had serious trouble slam into their families.

As we sang, the Holy Spirit filled the room. It was overwhelming! Pain and trials were forgotten as we tried to sing through tears of Joy from our Savior's presence. When the pastor gave the salvation message, people responded! Person after person after person - in Boulder!

Aside from the immediate family, many of the folks there were mental patients and mental health workers invovled with the woman who passed. NINE people recieved Christ and since have followed up on their commitment though Hope Boulder, the tiny church that held the memorial.

A few weeks earlier, the same weekend the Big Stink happened at MOPS b/c of my Dark Side of Christianity post, Susie had me tag along w/ Psalm 42 to the Mount View juvenile detention facility. I didn't want to go. At that point, I didn't want to join the group b/c I was tired. Wasn't I in the process of clearing my plate of Things To Do?

Half the group was sick, none of the men could sing. Ps 42 was hurtin' for voices, but that didn't matter to the incarcerated teens. The quality of music wasn't great either, that day. But, NINE kids responded to Jesus b/c of the testimony and song of this group. They responded to Susie as she belted out "Shakles" - a Mandisa tune.

In that moment I knew. I leaned against the cinder block wall next to the sound guy and bawled. This is for you. God whispered.

Yesterday, Psalm 42 sang at the Adams County Prison. John and I couldn't go b/c the prison only allowed 8 people in. Susie and Kendall stopped by our house on the way home to tell us all about it. They said God's presence was even more powerful in that max security place than in Boulder. Lives were changed, faith exploded. Prisoners and singers were blessed through three back-to-back concerts.

This coming Saturday, John and I will be part of the group that goes to the prison for the rest of the inmates (they only allow 25 in a room at a time for safety reasons). We can't wait!

But, with ministry comes attack. It's a war. Bad things happen to Ps 42 members - things that should make us bow out of a concert. You know a ministrie's power by the suffering its servants endure.

The director of the group introduces us as broken people mended by Grace. In our group there are testimonies of drug use/abuse, abortion, prison, theft, depression, suicide, suicide attempts, broken marriages, sexual abuse victims, etc. A collection of folks many churchies would brush off as "soiled".

Pray for Ps 42 as we rehearse tonight. Pray for the three or four concerts we'll be doing at the prison. Pray protection over our members. A family was whacked last night by a massive injustice after they ministered. Pray for more opportunities to go into places where few ninistries dare tread. We're trying to get into the immigration prisons to share Christ with illegal aliens waiting for deportation. We're also trying to get into the mental health system to minister to the mentally ill. Pray for my husband's sister, Debbie. She's very much like the woman who died. Pray Jesus can cut through her fog and bring her Hope.

Rejection, Duh-pression

I'm out.

It hurts, like someone poured lighter fluid all over my heart and used a blow-torch for ignition.

But, I'm not broken.

Worship team is not the context in which God wants to use my voice. He's providing me with world-class lessons (I'm not exaggerating) for FREE. A pro who sees potential in me, I don't even see.

Writer. Speaker. Singer. God wouldn't make me good at these things if He didn't want me to use them. It's just that I'm finding out His plan is so different from mine. On a deep level, I'm okay with His wisdom. I'm still sick. Worship leaders need to be well and stable. I'm not well and stable. I'm a mess.

Oh, I said that yesterday. Bear with me as I work to embrace my messiness. Jesus loves me the way I am, I need to do likewise.

Before I called Ryan, I spent an hour at least in prayer and meditation on God's Word. My depression makes downers harder to take. I didn't break in my convo with Ryan. It actually went well. I met my goal. The door isn't closed on me, it's just the timing.

I have talent, but I'm wounded. I need to heal. Shut out the lying voice of Satan, and strive to reach the potential God planted in me. Fear has been my master for as long as I can remember. Proving I'm worth something, goes waaaaay back to childhood. The temptation to Show Them is more than I can bear right now, so I'm begging God for a lift of some kind. I need good news, encouragement, a contract? An agent to call me and say, "I've read your Litterbox and Titletrakk reviews. Dang, girl, you can write!!! Got a novel in the works?"

I'd say, "Oh yes I do. I'm rewriting it due to a change in character relationship..."

"I'd like to represent you and help you get published."

Okay, maybe I'm sliding into fantasy land like a mountain climber whose crampons have balled up with ice on an exposed extreme slope.

But can't God do something like that?

Would He be God if He couldn't?

Doesn't mean He will. He can choose for Himself what to do with the shattered pieces of what used to be Darcie.

I think that's harder than the rejection and depression.

An authentic onion

I just finished reading the post of a friend of mine - Red Letter Believers, about authenticity. Two days ago, or so, I read a post by my friend Paula of Grace Reign and a post by Heather on her blog.

Paula and Heather were being vulnerable and authentic. They aren't afraid to share who they are and what they think and feel.

My current inclination is to be an onion - wrapped up nice and tight in my papery shell with dozens of thick, strong layers protecting my tender inner core.

I pull back a layer every now and then, but at the sign of any hurt or misunderstanding, I yank my skin tightly around me, less willing to open up in the future.

What will people think if they knew the "real" me?

Often I'm accused of being authentic and "real". If those people only knew how skilled I am at acting. I could win a flippin' Oscar!

I'm most grieved by the fact that Christians are most suseptible to misunderstanding, judging, and flat out rejecting me if I show my pain. Only a rare few have drilled holes in my layers (Stinky!!!) My non-Christian friends are far more perceptive, and pick up on my artful deception.

Writers: the deeper I dive into their world really "get" me. Many of them have been where I am. Many of them have matured to a place in which they don't care what others think. They shed their onion skins, exposing a raw tender shoot of green growth to the world.

Stories of their true selves inspires me and leads me toward a place of healing so one day I too can sluff off those cumbersome shells and live in full freedom and growth.

Uh.....I don't get it. I have no clue.

I don't know where to begin. Being at a loss for words is a phenomenon I never experience - until now.

In my opinion, my "Trust and Obey" post was like me telling God to "bring it on". He did. The very next day.

Since the middle of the previous week, these weird squishing sensations washed through my brain for an instant and were gone. It happened every once in a while. Kinda felt the world was going black for a second, like my heart skipped a beat, and my blood-starved brain wanted to conk out.

But it recovered as quickly as the wave came.

By Tuesday afternoon, the waves turned into a tsunami. One feeling of WRONG after another. by evening, I couldn't even crawl up the stairs of my house. My chest pounded a weird tempo, constantly changing rhythm and meter.

And it was caucus night. Heck, after all the trouble I went through, I was going to Kennedy High School and participate in that meeting thingy. Mitt needed me. But now....

Back to topic. I feigned feeling fine for my dear hubby. He sensed something wasn't quite right. I was confused, couldn't really orient myself well (or climb up the stairs to brush my teeth).

Parking is limited at Kennedy despite the fact it's a very huge high school with several thousand students. We had to park the equivalent of two blocks away. I neglected to bring my coat despite the fact the wind chill was minus 15. John and Kyle hurried to the building while Darcie stumbled on.

Noticing my absence, John turned around, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I replied through gritted teeth. (grammarians, please let me know if my quotation usage is correct in this dialog. I suck at punctuation.)

Settled in the auditorium by precinct number, I slumped low in my graffitied, gum-stained, hard-wood foldy chair. The sounds of old people complaining about the speaker system not being on high enough (it was ALL the way up), and the voices of candidate proponents melded into a swirly mesh of noise.

"You're not feeling good," John said.

"No, I'm not."

"I think we need to leave so I can take you to the ER."

"I'd rather die than go to the ER." I folded my arms and slumped further into my seat.

"Well do me a favor and at least call the Kaiser ask-a-nurse." John said balancing Kyle and his two trains on a knee.

I called. Missed the return call due to crowd noise and had to call back. Almost an hour later, and feeling more WRONG and weak I finally got through to the nurse. (I held the phone next to my ear for a loooooong time).

"You need to go to the ER." She stated, telling me which hospital to go to. The one farthest from where I live b/c it's the hospital my insurance has a deal with. Glad I wasn't going into a diabetic coma or something more serious.

Earlier in the day I feared this would happen. I balked at the thought. I argued with God. "You're kidding me, right? After all I've been through-"

"Do you trust me?"

"You don't get it! The ER costs money, they'll probably hospitalize me like they did the last time I had a Bad Prescription Drug incident. Critical care for 3 stinkin' days! I'd rather die than add more debt to my family!"

"Trust me."

So what's a girl to do when her body and brain go all bezerko? Walking to the car, I could no longer control my symptoms no matter how hard I tried. I argued with John about the whole ER thing. We called the Mom-Away-From-Home who's a nurse. In a very frank way she said, "Darcie, this can kill you. You may go into cardiac arrest. Get to the ER."

Nearly 36 hours passed before one of the many doctors with differing opinions, finally figured out the cause of my craziness. The ER doc thought it was my ADHD medication. I thought it was the sleeping stuff. I didn't take either one before going to bed. ER doc said I'd feel better by morning b/c the ADHD drug would have worn off by then.

Oh how I hoped.

Instead, I slipped into the worst psychotic experience of my life. I sobbed uncontrollably for three hours, exasperating my poor husband, keeping the entire house awake. The more he told me to quit, the harder I cried. I wanted to quit. I prayed and prayed that my brain and body would stop tormenting me so.

My body writhed, twisted and shook. I was terrified. John even more so.

By morning I felt worse. Called my psychiatrist who manages my depression meds. His nurse called back in the late afternoon asking what happened. I recounted the whole nasty ordeal through slurred speech and tsunami squishes in my brain. "Sounds like Effexor withdrawal. I'll check with the doctor, but I'm 90% sure that's what it is."

That's what it was. She asked me about how well I followed the directions the doc gave me to wean me off the stuff when he changed my medication. I told her I followed the plan with precision and perfection. She asked the exact date I stopped taking Effexor. I told her. She was silent.

In her no-nonsense way, she told me that adding up all the numbers of the days, I should be in the MIDDLE of the weaning process, not done with it. The process takes 21 days. I took 8.

Doesn't follow directions well.

It was on almost every report card through elementary school, then on projects through Jr. and Sr. high school.

Directions to me, are usually a mere suggestion of only one way to approach a task. I read them, then start doing The Thing, and never look at them again. After reading the 18 steps required to wean myself off of Effexor, How hard can this be? I'll post the directions on the refrigerator next to my home pharmacy and refer to them as needed.

Within a few days, I forgot when I started the process and forgot what step of the 18 I was on. So I guessed. Wrongly. Very wrongly. The nurse and I figured I skipped the entire middle section of The Directions. She didn't quite understand how I could mess up that badly when the directions were spelled out in plain English on my refrigerator. The physical effects of embarasment combined with the withdrawal effects of the drug were painful. "I guess I need to plot out the daily doses on a calender."

"That would be a very wise decision."

Who knew?

I'm feeling better now. Still not sure what to make of it, if anything. More money wasted on a stupid medical thing. More weight on John b/c I'm sick. More weight on Kyle whose only speed is run.

Somewhere in there, I started embracing my ordeal. I read Kristy Dyke's blog. I cried and cried (before nurse call) uncontrollably.

Kristy Dykes is my flesh and blood hero. Any person who can face terminal cancer with the hope, faith, and gratefulness deserves a super-sized reward in heaven.

I wanted to die during those 36 hours of hell. I wanted to live after reading Kristy's blog.

What is God doing?

I have no clue.

Trust and...

Anyone remember that old hymn, "Trust and Obey" junior church leaders made you sing to beat the concept into your head?

"When we walk with the Lord in the light of His Word, what a glory He sheds on our way. While we do His good will, He abides with us still, and with all who will trust and obey-

"Trust and obey, for there's no other way, to be happy in Jeeeessssuuuuuuuussssss, but to trust and obey."

Cheesy melody aside, the words are pretty powerful. I never really thought much about the meaning. I sat in my pew, trying to flip my eyelids inside out, while wishing the pianist would pick up the tempo and finish the song (it was played so badly).

Obedience doesn't come easy for me. The more someone insists I DO something a CERTAIN way, the itch to do the exact opposite becomes unbearable!

God is seeking my obedience. What I think He's asking me to do is something I really don't want to do. Actually, there are several things He wants me to do.

But...

...they're too hard...

...take too much time...

...use too much gas...

...bring back old hurts...

...trigger panic attacks...

...require me to make a fool of myself and look even stupider than I do now...

...require resources me and my family DON'T have...

....may cause my wonderful hubby to drive a bus up his left nostril...

Why the heck do I want to obey God when it means more hardship? When it calls for what I don't think I have?

Luke 12:22-34 smacked me in the head last week, and hasn't left me alone. I can't get it out of my head. You know, it's that passage about us being worth more than the birds (unless you're a member of PETA and you think humans need to become extinct), and that the flowers of the fields who do nothing but sit in dirt and look pretty, make the best-dressed celebrities in the world look shabby...

Jesus makes the point that we aren't supposed to worry. Um, excuse me! Jesus, have you seen my life???

Verse 32 (I think - I have The Message and it doesn't break out every verse number) says, "Steep yoursef in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. Don't be afraid of missing out. You're my dearest friends! The Father wants to give you the very kingdom itself."

Pretty much says if I'm obedient and surrender every molecule of my life to Jesus Christ, He'll take care of everything else. Dang, that's hard!

I'm sitting here wrestling with Him. I don't want to step out of my comfort zone. I have a new reading chair that's comfy! I don't want to drive almost an hour on a weekly basis to be part of a writer's group (it's not the ladies, it's the distance). I REALLY don't want to audition for worship team.

I know I'm supposed to join the writer's group. I'm still not clear about WT. God has to drop Mt. Everest on my head to get me to put myself through that hell again.

Argh.

Being a Christian sucks.

On this planet.

By obeying God, I'm building up treasure in Heaven. Treasure that can't be stolen, or eaten by bugs.

Ugh.

A problem with blogging is that people read what I write, then use it to nail me.

For example. I got a call the other day from my friend Suzie. The conversation went something like this:

Susie: Hey Darcie, I'm calling to ask what you're gonna do about that thing Ryan posted.

Me: Oh... Um.... OH! That thing.

Susie: Yeah. So are you going to the meeting about the auditions on the 20th?

Me: No. I'm not auditioning.

Susie: Is that you or God speaking?

Me: Huh?

Susie: Are you not going to the meeting or auditioning because of what happened last year, or did you pray about it to see what God wants you to do?

Me: I made up my mind a long time ago I won't audition. I don't agree with it, and I can't go through that kind of trauma again.

Susie: I read your blog a few minutes ago...

Me: (Silence. Sound of Crickets.)

Susie: Your BLOG. You need to listen to yourself sometime.

Me: Oh. Yeah. The GPS thing.

Susie: Your doing a DPS (Darcie Positioning System). I can tell. GPS, girl.

How humiliating. Getting caught being contrary to what I "preached." Susie's right. I didn't consult God at all about Worship Team. I'm assuming that because I didn't pass auditions last year, it's not His will for me to sing. Ever.

I know, I'm guilty of all-or-nothing thinking which is a cognitive distortion. My decision making process if fueled by raw emotion and the desire to avoid conflict. Sooo, now I have to recant my absolute statement of the past six months and pray about it. "GPS, girl."

GPS for 2008

I didn't get a Garmin 0r any other GPS device under the tree in case you're wondering about the title. Geocaching, however, is something I'd like to try sometime... (Margie?)

GPS doesn't stand for "global positioning device" when I use it. I'm using these three letters to abbreviated God Positioning System. Alright, that's corny. But I love metaphor, I love analogies and word pictures. I guess that's why I'm a writer.

If you've been tracking with me over time, you'll notice I've been on a journey. A journey without a clear destination. I've been following a map I can't see. So, what's a Darcie to do? Draw her own lines, create her own routes and destinations. Be my own hero.

2007 started with an icy splash into the Boulder Resevoir. Horrified at the picture of me in a bathing suit, I pursued weight loss. I assumed that was my destination. I lost 20 pounds through Thin Within, and have lost at least another 10 or so from the depression. I'm pretty much where I want to be weight wise, but along the way, discovered that weight and food addiction were only part of my problems. More like symptoms of something bigger. Something more ominous.

February ignited one of the worse loss/grief cycles I've ever experienced. Actually, there was an inciting incident (worship team) and I was sucked into a vortex of despair as all my failures, shortcomings and weaknesses battered me in the debris layer.

Mom suggested I find freedom in Christ by starting Beth Moore's Breaking Free Bible study. My best friend, Stinky and I struggled through half of the study over the summer months. I expected my desire for freedom in Christ would relieve my turmoil. Ha!

Pick up on the common theme? I sought to figure out how to fix my life. I ping-ponged from one recommended solution to another. None of the studies or programs I tried are bad or wrong. They are Biblically sound and helped millions find freedom and healing.

You see, deep down in the darkest recesses of my heart, I worked hard to impress Jesus. "Lord, look what I'm doing to help you heal me." I was positioning myself on the map, hoping for easy, flat routes. If God wasn't gonna reveal the topography, I'd do it for Him.

Then I broke.

I can't do what I used to. I'm not even physically able to do normal everyday things. I get Kyle up, the animals fed, myself dressed, take my pharmacy of meds, then collapse in a chair until I go to bed 11 hours later. My fatigue is debilitating. My muscles are weak. My mind gets jumbled. And I can't do a darn thing about it!

I complain to the team of doctors monitoring my condition. "It takes time," they tell me. I don't want to wait. I don't want to rest. I want to get this illness thing over with and get on with life.

But what does that mean?

If I get my way, I probably won't use the GPS.

I'm starting to realized God, in his unfathomable wisdom, has taken me to a place where I CAN'T. He's tried it before, but I found the loopholes and found ways to function. No loopholes here. I'm mentally, physically and spiritually debilitated. In trials of the past, I at least had one of those facets in tact. Now they're all shattered.

So, for 2008, I hold my self-marked up map to Him. He hands me my GPS. I have no choice but to allow God to position me exactly where he needs me.

Healing for Dummies... anyone?

For the past few months I've hinted about plunging into the pit of a serious illness. An illness that was at one point life-threatening enough to land me in the ER.

In a way I saw it coming, and despite my herculean efforts to stop it on my own, this disease surged over and through me like a cataclysmic tsunami.

I thought I was helpless during the great elbow debacle...

Sometime in November I was handed the diagnosis of Major Depression.

I scored the highest number possible on the assessment scale used by doctors to establish the severity of the illness. My primary care doc prescribed some meds and sent me home. Two weeks later, I found myself in the emergency room. Rather than improving, my depression raged out of control destroying every part of Darcie, it's debris ridden waves could reach. My thyroid was "alarmingly abnormal" to quote one of the ER docs, my hormones all a-whack, and as time went on and I saw multiple practitioners and specialists, it's been determined that my adrenal glands are toast (Some call it adrenal fatigue, the Mayo Clinic website denounces that term, calling the symptoms a combination of hypothyroid and major depression.... uh...)

My hidey-hole had been the most comfortable place over the past eight weeks. It takes a lot of prodding to pry me out. I'm swamped by the stagnant waters left over by the tsunami wave, but at least I'm protected from the full impact of the surges.

Until now.

I (stupidly??) allowed myself to be yanked from said hidey-hole (complete with a new leather reading chair - another post yet to come) to face one of the biggest fault lines on the floor of the Darcinian Sea.

Some of you regulars may remember the devastating blow I received last February when I was cut from our church worship team. I'd been singing for four years and was suddenly deemed lacking in skill.

A week and a half ago, I was invited to be a backup singer on a "super-team" for the Christmas service (Dec 23). My dear friends who also suffered the same fate a year ago begged me to join them. They argued we need each other's support. We've all been devastated and affected by this over the course of the past ten months.

Last night was the first rehearsal. We had to sing with the very people who stared us down during auditions and said "you don't measure up." It was hard. Emotions I thought I buried shot through the cracks in the fault line. It was all I could do to hold myself together.

My best friend, Stinky, told me to try to use this experience as an opportunity to heal. How? Can someone point me to Healing for Dummies? Oh. There isn't one.

People speak of healing all the time. Author Kristy Dykes has a rare, deadly form of cancer and has most of reading America praying for healing. Author Mary DeMuth is in the process of healing from a traumatic year on the mission field in France. Best-seller Brandilyn Collins WAS healed of Lyme disease. She was wheelchair bound, loosing function in her joints then God...

Depression is not new to me. Looking back, I think I've been affected by it from an early age. Most of my life, perhaps. But it was something I could manage on my own. Now it's grown to something bigger, more ominous. Something that threatens to steal my life.

I know God is bigger than depression, but HOW do I live that? How do I live the hope of healing when my body and mind refuse to respond to treatment or just plain don't work? How do I use situations such as this singing gig as a time to heal rather than time to rip off a scab?

I pray and I pray...

Yet...

Silence.

Thank God for my friends here in Denver, my family in PA, and my new found writing buddies of ACFW. Only through them and with them do I feel God still cares.

Terrifying times

Last week a deranged teen opened fire in an Omaha mall murdering innocent shoppers out to make others happy.

Yesterday, a gunman entered the Youth With a Mission (YWAM) dormatory in Arvada, CO on the campus of Faith Bible Chapel. The YWAM folks were cleaning up after a Christmas party when some guy entered with a gun demanding to stay the night. They told him no, so he started shooting. Two people died.

My church is only 10 minutes south of FBC, our pastor knows lots of people up there, I know several families that attend FBC... Pastor Jim told us to pray for the families of the dead and wounded. And pray the gunman would be caught.

At 1PM yesterday, a gunman burst into t he lobby of New Life Church in Colorado Springs opening fire on the congregation. More people were shot, three died. The gunman was shot by an armed security guard. New Life has a WYAM center as well and brought in security as a precaution. Both FBC and NLC are mega churches with several thousand members. I know a lot of people in the Springs and am waiting and praying they are all okay.

There are over a dozen Houghton College alumni down there, Rocky Mountain Colorguard Association folk, and member's of ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writer's Association). I urge you to pray for both churches, YWAM and the families and friends of the people killed and wounded. Pray for the people - especially the children who had to witness this macabre slaughter. This is not something people just "get over".

The day after the mall shooting, the Southwest Plaza Mall was crawling with state troopers. I think I counted at least six. Teen boys lumbered around the mall making loud noises, saying crass things causing shoppers and UPS delivery men to jump. It was disconcerting. I bet those boys thought the Omaha shooting was cool.

Later that night as I told my husband about the police presence he said, "So, I guess it's no longer safe to go to a mall. If you can't go to a mall, where can you go?"

This mall is across the street from Columbine High School.

I looked him in the eye. Thoughts raced through my head. I have a baby, I'm a mom. How do I keep him safe?

I can't.

The church shootings remind us that we aren't safe ANYWHERE. Not schools, malls, restaurants (Chucky Cheese shooting on Santa Fe and Hampden in the 80s) or churches.

The temptation is to become agoraphobic and never leave our homes. Fearing the big, bad world outside. Just doesn't seem to jive with the abundant life Christ called us to live.

Here's my thought: God is sovereign. I can't die unless it's my time to go. I don't know when that is, maybe it will be the day a gunman storms Bear Valley Church or the Village Roaster, but I'm not gonna worry. I know where I'm going when I die. Jesus is my Lord and Savior. He promises eternity in Heaven with Him. Then again, maybe I'll live to be 100 because I have a heap of best-seller books to write!

This Christmas season, as we are riddled with horrifying tales of murder and gunmen on the loose, remember Who's in control. Embrace the Gift of Jesus and go shopping!

To follow along with the latest developments of the story, check out 9 News.

They are a local news affiliate that does a really good job. They've updated information twice as I was writing this. When they move stories, the links change, so I only linked their home site above.