The phone slices right through the day’s normal.

“She’s in her final hours,” the caller says.

In a dash, I grab purse and coat and head out for the ninety-minute trip. Ninety minutes that hang like shadows, reminding me of the times I never made that trip.

“We’ll be there soon, I promise,” I’d told her countless times. “We’ve got school, and you know we’re heading out of town next week again—but soon.”

Soon.

A simple promise loaded with such good intentions.

Soon.

Oh how those promises disappear into the lie of the daily routine, often robbing us of the things we need most. Can you imagine how our lives would be transformed if we started living out our “soons”?

I love you, my friends, my readers. I truly do. {That’s the sort of thing God plants in our hearts.} Because I love you, we are able to walk together in community; I love that. And because we walk together in community, I’m aware you have some “soons,” as well as a few “somedays.”

Someday.

Someday I will stop long enough to pay attention to these hurts that still percolate inside me. Someday, I will travel more.  Someday, I’ll even write that book.

I have my somedays too. My husband, Matt, was almost one.

Pretty early in our dating relationship, Matt and I felt like God had maybe brought us together, that perhaps we should consider a future. But I was extremely commitment-shy after having escaped a not-so-great marriage just a year before.

Today Matt and I joke about the several “pre-proposals” he threw out before getting to the real one. On a regular basis Matt would ask me, “Will you marry me?” {At the most romantic times, too—right after I’d grabbed a big bite of broccoli salad, or just chomped that last bite of a blooming onion.}

We both knew the “proposal” wasn’t real, but it became a fun running language throughout our time together. And while this warmed my heart, it also petrified me. Each time he asked, we both knew I would simply smile and say, “Someday.” In the days that followed, we did it over and over {and over} and it was fun.

Until the time Matt grew serious about a future together, until the time he called me out on my “someday.” Matt lovingly sat me down, reminding me there was nothing intentional about the word. He challenged me that maybe I dangled “Someday” just far enough out of reach in the future to avoid it becoming a reality.

Once Matt was serious about his proposal, he let me know we were going to have to be deliberate about our relationship. Reminded me how Someday wasn’t actually a day of the week, and how our marriage was going to have to move to a set date or our future would never be.  He then offered his heart {and one fine ring!}. I said yes, but not without spending the next six months of our engagement driving me, him, and God crazy with uncertainty–fears that Someday was now growing closer, closer, and closer.

I did it, though. I made it through the wedding without bolting scared. I couldn’t be happier that I did; we just returned from Savannah, Georgia where we celebrated our eighth wedding anniversary. And if you follow me on Facebook at all, you know that Matt is the most amazing thing next to Jesus I’ve ever known. But if I had kept putting him off, my prince would have come and gone. Unaware, I had allowed my “someday,” my fears, to sabotage one of my greatest desires: a safe, healthy, happy marriage.

I’m learning there will always be reasons why I can’t make it or can’t do it {those dreams and simple pleasures that bring me joy} but falling slave to the regret of not doing those things is taking me just about the same amount of time. Looking back, it seems sort of silly not to choose joy instead.

What is really important in your life right now? What “soon” or “someday” do you need to make time for? Let us know in the comment section and be entered to win a FREE journal, Write Where It Hurts.

Jo Ann Fore leads women into full, free lives—lives of joy and purpose. She also loves peppermint herbal tea and a great organic salad. A nerd with an insatiable appetite for words, Jo Ann is an absolute book-freak and perpetual student. When her nose isn’t buried in a great book (or three), you can usually find her submerged in her favorite warm-water pool, traveling across the country, or hanging out with her four-year-old granddaughter. She and comedy-magician husband Matt live in the mountains of Tennessee, where she talks incessantly about her daughter Tabitha, and grandchildren Lacey and Nathaniel, to anyone who will listen. Jo Ann’s book When A Woman Finds Her Voice: How to Live Free from Life’s Hurts is coming this fall.

If you were encouraged or inspired, please spread the hope with others. And be sure to leave a comment.

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Happy is the (wo)man who has broken the chains which hurt the mind.
~Ovid, a 17th century Roman poet

Father help me to be intentional about praising you, like an arrow seeking its target. Regardless of the occasional drop of gale-force wind that threatens my path, may my thanksgivings shoot straight forth and penetrate your heart.

For You have made me a person of respect and worth, a person separated, distinct, set apart.

I am Your creation fashioned to suit your purposes.

Forgive me for the times I disregarded your extraordinary undertaking. The times I allowed the winds (hurtful actions of others) to devalue your doing. Today, I acknowledge what you have done, who you have created me to be, the voice you have given me.

Help me, in the future, to intentionally (forcefully) discern this truth, this muchness beyond my comprehension that you have created in me. Help this revelation drive my activity of mind, will, and character.

You’ve done a great thing for You could do nothing less. Forgive me for discounting your works, and for allowing the opinion of others to intimidate me, to silence me.

Lord, help me? Help me to maintain this mindset, this choice for healthy emotions and abundant living? Strengthen me, equip me to diligently protect my mind, the place from which all things flow so that I will always recognize what I’m saying to myself and to others about myself that might devalue my divine worth.

Help me to abide in Your word, for it is close relationship with You that I will know the Truth, be set free, and enjoy life in its fullest abundance as you intend.

No more will I forget the holy work of Your hands. I will now allow You to love me, direct me, and uphold my worth.

 Love,

Your newly committed Silence-Breaker

Yes Lord, I will give thanks to You, for I’m fearfully and wonderfully made;
Wonderful are Your works, and my soul knows it very well.
~Psalm 139:14 NASB

(Psalm 139:14, Proverbs 4:23, John 8:31-32 AMP, John 10:10 CEV)

If you were encouraged or inspired, please spread the hope with others. And be sure to leave a comment.

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We’re celebrating over here this week! Mary DeMuth’s new book, Everything: What You Give and What You Gain to Become Like Jesus has officially been released. 

Not only am I excited about this awesome book but she’s running the coolest of contests;I know my Pinterest fans are going to LOVE this one. (Even if you’re a novice pinner–here’s a great incentive to finally see what all the fuss is about.)

To enter, make a fun pin with one of the cool quotes from Mary’s book (like I’ve done below).

Then, be sure and follow the steps listed below. Mary’s granted MULTIPLE chances to enter so take advantage of all of them. 

How cool is that?! Let me know if you win so we can celebrate BIG.  (When you enter the contest, comment below and let me know; I’ll get you entered in the drawing for this month’s FREE book giveaway!) Oh yea, don’t forget to pick up your own copy of the book–you won’t regret it. 

If you were encouraged or inspired, please spread the hope with others. And be sure to leave a comment.

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Only one thing is more frightening than speaking your truth,
and that is not speaking it.
~Naomi Wolf

Life is hard sometimes, not always made up of syrupy storybook tales as some faith-pushers would have us believe. I met Jesus under the umbrella of belief that all is well once you “cross over.” I’ve since learned all is indeed well, but not necessarily as was represented. Christian or not, suppressed emotional pain stains one’s soul.

Silence isn’t always the serene, lustrous golden picture that people paint. When forced upon us, a prohibitive silence darkens the eyes and swallows the spirit. The nothingness permeates our soul, attempting to steal a divine gift, our very identity.

Your voice matters.

Pull that truth in tight. Inhale the freshness. Taste the freedom.

You aren’t helpless. Alone. Trapped. You are important in God’s eyes. You are not defined by what has happened to you, or even your own wrong choices; these things will not destroy you. You are loved. Needed. And what you have to say is important.

Intoxicating, isn’t it? Liberating.

But only for a moment, right?

Dare you believe it? The Pollyanna euphemisms fade fairly quickly, don’t they, as you default to what you know? After a brief escape, your mind pulls back. You may still feel like what you have to say isn’t meaningful, relevant, or valued. It’s hard to forget those times when you were forced to keep secrets or someone made you feel worthless, inferior, or at best, unvalued. Or worse, those times when someone hurt you physically or verbally as they pumped their self-ego at the price of your fragile self-worth.

I well know the roar of silence, the taste of fear. I’ve lived the numbing quiet of emotional pain and unfathomable trials. But I’ve also held the hand of freedom. Savored the liberty to speak.

A tumultuous journey of childhood sexual abuse, life-threatening physical and emotional abuse in a former “Christian” marriage, and a 20-year bulimic struggle threatened to derail God’s purpose for my life. With a shattered sense of safety, I learned to distrust God. I made countless poor choices stemming from low esteem while the fallout of painful life experiences left me voiceless for years.

But it didn’t have to be that way.

Over time, in the healing shadow of Jesus, I addressed the toxic beliefs that had soiled my life and perverted my thoughts.

Funny how we live out what we believe.

As I learned to apply the truth of scripture, I couldn’t help but think differently. Unaware in the midst of it, I was retraining my brain.

Today, I use my formerly silenced voice to tell others about God’s goodness and the plan he has for us as women to live a life of abundance, joy, and purpose. A free life. A full life.

I am only one of countless women who have suffered emotional pain. While the scope is diverse, pain is pain—individual and not to be compared. This common connection links me with soul-wounded women all around the world. Most likely, I share this bond with you. These are our stories. And stories like ours deserve to be dialogued.

As my beautiful friend Catherine Darnell says, “Together our found voices and collective stories gain power and strength, and bare witness to God’s unfailing love for each one of us.”  During his earthly tenure, Jesus went out of his way to reach the silenced and ignored; He does the same for us today.

Have you ever felt like what you have to say isn’t important or valued? Consider sharing with us in the comments section (you can post anonymously if needed) so we can pray with you?

If you were encouraged or inspired, please spread the hope with others. And be sure to leave a comment.

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When wounds cut deep, the opinion of others sometimes matters most.

How much that must hurt God’s heart.

Consider God’s first recorded reaction when dealing with our triggered-by-others insecurities. One evening when the breeze fell among the trees in the garden, Adam and Eve lay open their painful remorse (Gen 3:11 MSG).

“I was afraid…I was naked and I hid.”

“Who told you that?” God asked.

Don’t you just love the question? God wasn’t sidetracked with their shamefacedness. He well knew the source of their shackling guilt but I believe He wanted them to consider that someone else had influenced their beliefs. A shrewd and conniving someone else.

That running from grace thing we do–that began at the Fall, when we first believed that the opinion of others matter more than the opinion of God.

God is steadfast, though. Today, He poses that same question to us.

Who told you that you are worthless? Not good enough? Unlovable? That what you say doesn’t matter?

Unhealthy lies breed a culture of silence where a low self-worth often blocks God’s best for our lives.

But there’s hope. If we’re willing to confront these lies, we release the hold they have on us. Christian author and speaker Mary DeMuth, a veteran of childhood trauma, understands.

“Growing up, I had a monster-like fear of death,” Mary shares. “At night, I shivered as I prayed prayers to ward off ghosts.”

Mary masked a fear that consumed much of her life. Enveloped in cold darkness, most of her nights were spent imagining horrific, dreadful things happening to her. In spite of a brokenness that poisoned relationships, Mary remained afraid to unearth any childhood pain. Emotionally isolated, cynical, and relationally inept, she walked many painful years in repressive denial.

“I avoided intimacy as much as I could so I wouldn’t rip open a festering wound I couldn’t handle,” Mary said. “But you need to be willing to ‘go there’ with Jesus. So many people aren’t healed because they are afraid to open up the can of worms of their past. I’m here to say, yes it will hurt, but that kind of hurt is what heals.”

Who told you?

Who has attempted to diminish, ignore, or squelch your voice?

What life-messages are you responding to? Worthlessness and shame from an abusive father? Criticism from a cynical spouse? Abandonment from an absent mother? The child forced to cover up family secrets? Close relationships with narcissists, know-it-alls, controlling or belittling people? A toxic religious system, even?

Are you willing to go there with Jesus? Are you willing to trust His voice over these false voices?

Father, we pray your gentle hand guides us as we identify and confront  any purpose-robbing lies that have penetrated our heart and mind. Teach us to hold any negative reflections under the magnifying light of your Word, your Truth. Empower us to overcome any unnatural fear of men, and to help stop making people bigger than You. Hold us close to your heart as we learn to need others less, and love you more.

If you were encouraged or inspired, please spread the hope with others. And be sure to leave a comment.

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For a long time, certain triggers made me feel as if someone had poured acid; to forgive implying a gross injustice. The thorns of forgiveness rebelled against the unfairness of all.

It’s hard not to harbor bitterness.

For years I nurtured a dark, deep-rooted hatred for my father. I didn’t realize the volatility until one day, in innocence, my (at-the-time) young daughter asked about her grandfather.

Her grandfather? My churning stomach recoiled at the bite of her words. She would call the man who abused me her grandfather?

I offered some lame rationale which satisfied until her older years brought us face to face with the aftershocks of my young life. One day my daughter uncovered an article of mine, which shared an overview of the abuse I suffered at the hands of my father. She had questions for me; questions I wasn’t ready for.

I wish I could say I gently sat her down and explained how God’s grace covers a multitude of sins, how the same Jesus who died for me and her died for my father, and how, as fleshy humans in a fallen world, we are all, unfortunately, capable of evil to some degree.

I did not. I spewed vicious, hurtful words about his atrocious behavior which planted seeds of hatred, fear, and confusion in a fragile teenage heart.

And I am a Christian.  A Christian taught to forgive.

Well-meaning pastors, counselors, and friends had urged me, “forgive.” But all I heard was cajoling manipulation designed to trick me into excusing wrong behavior. Forgiveness was something I couldn’t offer from the heart.

“Someday, God.”  I made a dangerous promise.

Out of a sole fear of divine punishment I repeatedly promised God I would forgive. Someday was easier to digest. It was “out there”—an elusive future promise never to materialize, a commitment that offered temporary protection.

But God called me to forgive now. Today. In this go-round on earth.

It was a heart-work only God could do. Eventually, I surrendered the work to Him. For on my own, I could never yield my right for vengeance, my need to understand, or the anger which camouflaged my pain. But I knew the right thing to do. Motivated by a love for God (just as I chose Christ as my Savior) I had to choose, in faith, to forgive my father.

God honored my commitment. Completely unaware to me, he worked in my heart as the days passed.

A couple months later I stood in my kitchen, alone in the house. The aroma of freshly-chopped garlic signaled me to turn on the stove. Momentarily distracted, I watched the black stovetop surface molt into vibrant color. Flame red. An unpleasant thought scorched my mind. I envisioned my father spending an eternity in hell. Tears formed in my eyes and trickled down my face. With Christ’s heart in me, I realized I no longer wanted revenge. I wouldn’t wish the ravages of hell on any man—including the man who had brought so much pain in my own life, my father.

Grace does such cool things in one’s heart, unexpected.

How about you? Someone God has called you to forgive, yet it feels impossible?

Father, we sometimes struggle with this issue of forgiveness—as if forgiveness somehow makes what the others did acceptable. It’s not acceptable Lord, and in our humanness, we can’t always comprehend or allow forgiveness. What they did was wrong, excruciatingly painful. But Lord, truth is, we’ve done bad things too. We have turned away from you; we have hurt people. Please help us grant those who have hurt us your mercy, and please (supernaturally) release us from this pent up pain of not letting go.

I would LOVE to know your thoughts. Leave a comment and be entered in a drawing to win a copy of Max Lucado’s new Grace Happens Here.

If you were encouraged or inspired, please spread the hope with others. And be sure to leave a comment.

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An Interview with Cecil Murphey, Author of Making Sense When Life Doesn’t

Cecil Murphey helps readers accept, adapt and flourish when the trials of life throw them off track.

  Life is like cleaning the house—no matter how hard you work to clean up the mess, tomorrow the clutter and disorder will reappear, and it will just need cleaning again. In Making Sense When Life Doesn’t: The Secrets of Thriving in Tough Times (Summerside Press) best-selling author Cecil Murphey writes that while life’s messiness is unavoidable, it’s how a person chooses to respond to the mess that matters.

Murphey explains that while you don’t get to choose your crisis, the crises will happen.  Companies downsize, relationships end, trauma hits, and illness comes, but there are three ways in which we can respond: decide to live with the mess and comfort yourself with the memories of the past, move on with life and resent the change, or tell yourself that this can be the best time of life and try something new.

Q: You open Making Sense When Life Doesn’t with the concept that life is like cleaning the house. Explain what you mean by that.

We get the house cleaned and it looks quite nice. It doesn’t stay that way. The tendency is to go back to our careless or hurried lifestyle and the same habits. Before long, the house is messy again. That’s how life works. We fret and struggle to clean up our current mess, assuming that once we accomplish that feat, it won’t happen again. But it will. Unless we make changes, we’ll go back to the same lifestyle.
 Q: What are the three or four ways we can respond to crisis?

We always have choices even if we think we don’t.

1. We can do the throwing-our-hands-in-the air bit that says we give up.
2.  We can complain about the way things used to be. Like the children of Israel in the wilderness, we tend to forget the negatives of the past and our world seemed much better than it is in the present. We cry out, “This is the worst time of my life.” That attitude makes us immobile and often a little bitter. “It’s not supposed to be this way,” is the way we start our conversations.
3. We can move forward—grudgingly. We change because we’ve been forced to do so, but we resent the situation and often the people involved.
4. We can see this as an adventure, a new way of life. We can tell ourselves, “This can be the best time of my life. I can try things I wanted to do but never did. I can learn new things and enjoy life even more.”

Q: It has been said that the only constant in life is change. Why is that such an important truth that we need to face?

We tend to think that if we can just push beyond this present, pervasive situation, life will be “normal” once again. Life doesn’t work that way. Living means moving from one problem to the next.

If we accept that we’ll always face opposition and grow in the process, we aren’t overwhelmed when the next eruption of life takes place.

We learn to say, “This is how life works.”

Q: A few years ago, you lost your son-in-law in a fire that destroyed your home and all your possessions. At that time you told a friend, “I was preparing for this.” How could have been preparing for what happened that morning?

I didn’t mean that I expected death and a fire, and he understood my words. I meant I had experienced many hardships, rejections, pain, and disappointment. Each time I faced them and moved through those times, I was ready for the next one. Those words came spontaneously. As broken up as I was, I knew I could handle the loss.

When I was in my early twenties and difficulties came, I wondered how I would make it through most of them. But after having overcome enough chaos and obstacles, I know I’m ready to face the next ordeal.
Q: You say you’re not a person who likes to give advice, especially when people are hurting. Why not?

I suppose I like to give advice, but I avoid it. When people hurt or are going through difficult places, they don’t need my advice. They need my support. Through my own experiences, I realized people quickly gave me advice, quoted Bible verses, reminded me that God was with me, or told me how good life would be afterward. Their words didn’t help; I already knew that. I also realized their words often came from their own discomfort and not from great wisdom.

What I needed—and what I want to offer others—is my concern. I don’t have to give them answers. Even if they ask questions, what they really need is for someone to show they care. I want to be with them while they figure out their own answers.

Q: Is it really okay for people to get angry or feel sorry for themselves when something bad happens? Is there a time limit for that kind of negative emotion?

Is it okay? It had better be because that’s a natural reaction when life falls apart. That means we’re aware of the seriousness of our situation. Not only is it all right, but it’s important. Those feelings help us assess where we are. After that, we can begin to solve our issues.

Is there a time limit? We’re all different. Some of us can hit the bottom and bounce up quickly. Others move slowly.

After the death of our son-in-law, it took our daughter three years before I felt she had decided to live again. (They had known each other since they were fourteen years old.)

Q: In one chapter, you say that only the strong can forgive. Isn’t that contrary to what society leads us to believe?

It’s not natural or easy for most of us to admit our mistakes. But once we face our own shortcomings, we can accept others when they fail or don’t live up to their highest standards.

We need a certain level of self-acceptance before we can forgive others. We don’t have to wait for others to change, we can change and that means we can forgive. Once I realized that God loves me, forgives me, and accepts me as I am—that took years for me to grasp inwardly—I understood the concept of grace. I know how it feels to be forgiven. I realized that Jesus Christ saw my motives and not just my actions. He knew my weaknesses and my blind spots. Because I know those things about myself and the overwhelming love of God, I can pass that grace or forgiveness on to others.

Too often I hear people say things like, “I don’t forgive. I get even.” Such an attitude weighs on our souls, and prevents our living in contentment.

Q: Like most writers, you’ve experienced your share of rejection. How have you learned to deal with rejection in life?

I detest rejections. For the first 50 rejections I received in my writing (and there have since been hundreds), I felt it was a personal attack. It wasn’t; it was a business decision by a publisher.

I learned to remind myself, “They are not rejecting me, they are rejecting my product.”

Another thing is that by receiving “non-acceptances” (as I chose to call them), I grew stronger. Instead of considering non-acceptances as intrusions, I was finally able to say, “This is how life works.”

 Q: Explain what you mean by “letting go is vital to grabbing hold.”

Too many want to feel safe, so they grasp what they have. They want life to be the way it was (at least the good part) and they constantly look backward. If they’re going to go forward, they have to release their past and say, “That’s the way it was then. I’m now moving ahead.”

When we do that, we’re ready to grab hold and move forward. We can’t appreciate what we have now if we constantly compare it to the way it used to be, especially if we’ve been forced to leave the old.

Q: We often hear about the importance of having accountability partners, how does accountability fit in with the overall theme of this book?

We are on our own in life, even though God is with us. We pray. We make choices and feel we’re doing the right thing. We all have blind spots and we need the insight of individuals we can trust.

True accountability partners push us to face reality, admit our imperfections, and to reframe or rethink our decisions.

Accountability is a vital part of making sense out of life. We need the perspectives and objectivity of those who care about us. An accountability partner enables me to open myself to my inner thoughts and express them—without fear of censure.

The Bible speaks of the sinfulness of every human, and we often need others to help us see that what we want to do may be self-centered and destructive.

Q: One thing you had trouble understanding at first was the idea that we need the people who make our lives more difficult. Most of us likely have the same problem. Why do we need our enemies?

Our enemies force us to examine ourselves. They tell us things our good friends won’t. Even if they exaggerate or are mistaken, we still need to ponder their accusations.

They push us to look at what I call the unexamined parts of our lives.

Q: You also address topics such as jealousy, anger, pain, and regrets. Is there anything specific on one these subjects that you would like to leave our listeners with today?

Those emotions are normal and we need to admit to ourselves that we feel them. We’re human. Disappointments come to all of us.

I enjoy my life because I’ve faced an enormous number of roadblocks, negative feelings and attitudes, and I’ve worked through them. I call myself an overcomer. The true victors in life are only those who have faced their hardships and kept going.

Life isn’t fair; life isn’t easy. However, the inner contentment and joy we achieve when we overcome jealousy, anger, and other negative feelings enable us to enjoy life, friends, and God even more.

 For more information about Cecil Murphey and his books, visit www.cecilmurphey.com.

If you were encouraged or inspired, please spread the hope with others. And be sure to leave a comment.

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