Mental Health: Movies & TV Shows

There was a time when I was so eager to fit in and would watch the movies that I thought ensured this, whether I truly enjoyed them or not. I think I deluded myself at the time into thinking I was a fan of the gross-out, nailbiter, horror movies my friends and family touted as great entertainment. I sat through the black and white suspense filled thrillers and 90’s slashers alike. A small part of me was disturbed, but I shrugged it off. I assumed that being terrified of the storage area our washer and dryer were housed in in the basement because I thought the villain from Scream was lurking in there was par for the course.

I am not sure when the switch flipped because I still remember being fourteen and rewinding a particularly gruesome scene from Final Destination so the guests at my Halloween party could watch it a few times over; laughing. We laughed! Yet, in short order I became increasingly more squeamish and unsettled by death scenes. Horror movies were out, but I could still watch crime procedurals like CSI:Miami without much issue.

At nineteen I was a newlywed, spending my Saturday afternoons watching back-to-back episodes of CSI:Miami with my husband and then suddenly I couldn’t do it anymore. It was making me paranoid. A supernatural being, some monster fabricated in someone’s imagination, that’s something entirely different than everyday people being murders, rapists, and kidnappers. Most of the episodes have faded from my memory but the two that remain involved the murder of children and I think that may just be what broke me.

A decade later and the list of things I can watch without triggering serious anxiety and spiraling depression is growing smaller and smaller. It is no longer just blood and gore, which I would imagine is a trigger for many people. If there is vomiting I cannot watch it. Even hearing it has become too much to bear. I don’t know why people think it is hilarious but it is a massive trigger for my anxiety because it plays on a phobia. My brain can no longer fathom most action movies because all of those unnamed people that are not even extras, they’re probably just CGI cars on a bridge going down, destroy my heart. The part of my brain that could detach and suspend reality for awhile to be entertained is broken.

I look at all those implied deaths and instead of seeing it as a necessary peripheral to the storyline, my brain puts me in that situation and I think, “I would die. I would die right there with my children, because there is no way I could get them out of their car seats quickly enough.” How could I run with children? They wouldn’t be quiet and they’d give us away. I wouldn’t be savvy enough to survive. A million ways I could die and be unable to save my children in all of these outlandish situations runs through my head as if I am in a life and death situation, sending adrenaline surging through my body and creating an ache in my heart at the mere suggestion that hundreds of people like me and my kids just perished while the ones who were written to live carry on.

For the second night in a row I am sitting here on the couch by my husband, headphones on, blasting Z88.3 while he watches an action movie that I want to see too but cannot. I tried to sit here without the headphones last night while Independence Day:Resurgence played out on my television but after the first wave of deaths occurred I checked out. It was hard not to look up when I could hear, so I drowned it all out. I walked in on Logan tonight and all I saw was a young child in someone’s arms, crying, while they tried to escape a facility that was under attack and that small snippet, that tiny glimpse, twisted my heart. A lump caught in my throat, tears welled up and I hurriedly grabbed my daughter’s emoji headphones and plugged them into my computer in another attempt to drown out a movie my husband lovingly warned, “Is not your kind of movie.”

Not my kind of movie...The list grows. Sometimes I feel as if my ability to cope is getting worse, but maybe I am just so inundated with negativity in the real world that being bombarded with it in something I am using for entertainment and escapism is too much. I am not sure what the reason is, only the reality. It really limits what I am able to watch, but knowing my limits is a good thing. While I am a Marvel fan and am disappointed in all of the MA ratings on the series that are on Netflix, I try to remind myself that there are worse things my inability to cope causes and if I have to avoid pretty much every medical drama, crime procedural and nearly every R-rated movie, then so be it.

However, finding it harder to watch any action movie for the reasons I stated about seeing myself in the fleeing civilians, is frustrating. When Little House on the Prairie becomes such a trigger for my depression that I have to write it off, then I have reached a new low in my coping. Then again, if you have ever seen the two-part episode entitled “May We Make Them Proud” then perhaps you may understand why I was destroyed. The worst part of that one is my Mom tried to warn me but I let curiosity win and regretted it ever since. I was so emotionally distraught after that episode that I took a sleeping aid that night to help me sleep and instead lay in a drugged stupor, in and out of consciousness, immediately remembering the upset as soon as I realized I was conscious. It was a rough night and to this day I want to re-write that episode because it was unbearably heart-wrenching.

Sometimes I feel like I am on the outside looking in on life, watching everyone else enjoying it without a second thought. They watch whatever they want, while I can’t even watch the things I want. They can feel the sadness from a story and leave it at that. They can witness the carnage and see it for what it is, a movie. I hope I can strike a balance one day, instead of continuing down this path. It will start with learning to cope with my reality, though. That is why I am sharing this as another facet that my mental health struggles impacts. I cannot process movie scenarios because I cannot even process my own heartache, fear, stress, anger, etc. If I am unable to be present in the here and now because facing it is too much for me to handle, then it makes sense that the entertainment I crave is benign. It needs to be light-hearted, fun, and harmless. For now. Again, I am sharing my struggles not to say, “This is who I am,” rather, “This who I am, but this is not who I want to remain.”

It feels like a one-step-forward, two-steps-back battle some days, but I keep moving forward anyway. That is the point I always try to drive home: press on. You know your own triggers, and you know your own victories. Every day I get up and choose to fight is a victory. This is my current reality, but with a whole lot of prayer, support and strength from God, I am striving toward a future where if I cannot be entirely free, I can be victorious; a future where I can come alongside someone who is the trenches and lift them up, cheer them on and say, “You’ve got this!”

Mental Health: Dental Hygeine

It seems as if the world is trying to make room for an intelligent discussion of mental health. I do not possess a degree of any relevance to the topic, nor do I claim to speak on behalf of all those who struggle with anxiety and depression, and whatever other labels you can slap on my unhealthy mental state. I can only speak of my experience. If said experience resonates with anyone else, then I am glad to share. I, too, share in the fear of being shamed for divulging my battles, or even ostracized, but someone needs to say something so we have more people speaking up. All too often I have found that simply knowing I am not alone in my struggle is of great comfort. Since my anxiety and depression have far-reaching effects, too numerous to share in one succinct post, I will start with just one area anxiety and depression impact my life.

Oral hygiene is a topic most of us are well-versed in at a young age. One of my first college assignments in my Elementary Education course was to create a lesson plan revolving around teaching young children how to brush their teeth. My children's cartoons are full of songs about how to keep your teeth happy and clean. My point is: my teeth are not in bad shape for lack of know-how. Proper mouth care is pounded into our heads early on.

However, I was a lazy child. I took the path of least resistance and brushing my teeth was boring. This neglect resulted in cavities, but my tiny mouth initiated the need for several teeth being pulled. I had overcrowding and soon very crooked teeth. I remember being horrified as the adults around me discussed the potential for braces that wrap around your head. As if my self-esteem was not already microscopic! Thankfully, they offered me spacers first and the nightmare that those were yielded the necessary results. I still needed braces but they were not going to be the massive focal point that I had been warned of. I actually did not mind my metal mouth so much. Choosing new colour elastics to coordinate with the holidays was fun. At least, I assume that is why I documented my choices in my journal. Hey, I was thirteen!

The natural progression went to a retainer, which I was supposed to wear for quite awhile. However, I had developed a bad habit of chewing gum with them in. Chewing gum was one of the few ways I could even remotely cope with the anxiety surging through me. When I could not chew gum it was mints, a habit started in seventh grade when my state of mental health took a distinct nose dive.

Naturally, the plastic of my retainer was not meant to withstand such punishment and I wore holes in the thing. We were no longer living in Canada, so replacing it was not an easy task. I never did get a new one and my teeth very slowing began to migrate back into the snaggletooth smile I have today.

All through high school I did my best to maintain my teeth. It was a chore still but I realized more and more that I could work through the laziness, it was the mental block I could not so easily power through.

My parents both taught at a private Christian school, the same one I attended tenth through twelfth grade. It was a K-12 school, so my younger brother also attended. My Dad is an early riser; and I mean he is often up before the sun. He insisted on being to the school early, and with a thirty minute commute this meant we were out the door at about 6:30am. I can recall many a morning trying to choke down breakfast (eating is a whole different ballgame) before rushing to the bathroom to brush my teeth. While everyone was being ushered out the door I would be standing over the sink, brushing and gagging. The anxiety of trying to move through the motions in a hurry made me gag, and so brushing my teeth was not an enjoyable task to say the least.

I associated brushing my teeth with being in a hurry for years and would rush through the process. Trying to do anything more was tedious. Just last year, I was able to go to the dentist for the first time in eleven years. Part of me was holding out hope that I was not so full of holes I could sink but the truth was not surprising either. I had cavities in the double digits. Ugh!

Over those eleven years my germ phobia had dissipated and then reared its ugly head many times. Shoving a brush in my mouth that just sat in the bathroom with all of the other fun stuff that goes on around it made me shudder. I would stop brushing my teeth and just use mouth wash if I feared my brush was too germy that even dousing it with boiling water was not going to be enough until I could get a new one.

This past February I got Invisalign in an effort to actually like my smile again. The first day with those plastic pieces in my mouth was brutal. I felt gaggy all day and feared that we had just sunk a lot of money into a failed experiment. I did adjust though and things were going well until I hit a wall. I got a cold that produced a lot of mucous, which made me gag. The gagging made me anxious, which made me gag more and said gagging was a predominant feature once more every time I tried to brush my teeth.

When you take out your braces you need to brush your teeth before you put them back in and that means the need for brushing my teeth was upped to at least three times a day, which does not sound like much since that is the standard but I started to dread it. I began to leave my braces out for longer stretches of time. I realized I was leaving them out for longer and longer periods of time and was in danger of rendering the whole endeavor fruitless. So, that is about where I am now. Breathing through my nose in an effort to stave off the gagging fit, while my daughter dances around my bathroom singing, “I love you, Mommy! I love you, Mommy!,” in an effort to distract me.

Mind over matter. It is easier to flippantly say than to put into practice. I have thrust my toothbrush into the back of my mouth in an effort to hit the spot the hygienist said I was missing at my last cleaning. I apparently put so much effort into at least getting that done in between the singing, hyperventilating, and gagging, that I forgot to floss. I literally forgot in all of those moments, because it was all I could do to get my teeth brushed without it triggering a series of gags that left my stomach unhappy.

That was apparently my downfall. I walked into my cleaning today anxious from a battle of the wills that I lost with my gag reflex this morning and just anxious in general about having to lay still for so long with my mouth wide open. I really hate going to the dentist! But I took deep breaths, I prayed all morning, and was relieved that my teeth are still being nudged back where they belong.

My happiness was short-lived. The kids both walked out of their cleanings with a report of two cavities apiece. My heart sank. The dentist told me that it is likely their diet and I thought, “Of course it is! They eat fruit snacks and drink juice, they love Dum Dum pops and fruit…” My children are also picky. By picky I mean my son will find the tiny strands of cabbage and onion in the noodles from Panda Express and meticulously remove them all. He does not like much and neither does his sister. I have his doctor monitoring his weight because he has not budged in a year so that concerned her, so I just stood there silently mulling over the frustration of how I must have failed to assist them in brushing properly and I have fed them all the wrong things but if I don't they do not eat and I am at a loss. Then it was my turn for the cleaning portion of my visit.

It went fine. The x-rays made me gag but that is par for the course. The rest was typical and the hygienist was very friendly and put me as much at ease as you could expect from me in that situation. Then one of the dentists came in to examine my x-rays and my heart started pounding as he stared at them for a long while, enlarging each one and just staring before he finally began marking little red dots on the printout of teeth in front of him. I knew what that meant… cavities. He asked if I flossed and completely deflated at that point I just softly said, “no.”

He looked in my mouth, stuck a pointy instrument into my tooth and declared that I had another one. He spoke to his hygienist and almost shook his head and and laughed the sort of laugh that indicates something like, “I try to warn them,” and said, “she doesn't floss.”

I was in a bad state at that point. I tried to reason with emotions but depression hits me like a brick around this time every month and it was not doing me any favors as I stood at the counter, waiting for the printouts of how much all of these cavities were going to cost us. I felt so angry, defeated, discouraged and hurt.

I try! I fight every day to overcome the apathy that gives way to laziness, the depression that encourages the apathy and hurt, the anxiety that makes me avoid tasks because facing them is too hard. Taking care of my mouth should not be a battle beyond I get lazy and it is boring but it is so much more than that and I resented being made to feel so small, like a child who had taken a cookie from the jar without asking and spoiled her appetite.

I lost my composure. I stood there too long and the tears started welling up, and when I poked my head into the waiting room to ask my husband what sort of fillings he wanted for the children my voice betrayed me in a quivering mess. The kids looked at me wide-eyed and my daughter exclaimed, “Are you okay?!” No, I was not but I knew if I answered the rest would come out. The tears spilled out, despite my best efforts and as I made my way out to the waiting room I had to sit to tighten my shoelace and finally answered my daughter. I felt like a fool as I said through sobs that I had cavities because I do not floss but I try so hard not to throw up every time I brush my teeth that….” I said something like that anyhow before hurrying out of the office and finishing my thought as we all walked to the van.

I cried all the way home, about a million things really. I felt like a fool. I could hear my Christian peers sighing at how little faith I must have to be plagued by something so ridiculous. I could hear the world rolling their eyes at all the excuses I am making for myself.

The thing is, in choosing to acknowledge these things about myself I find some freedom. This is not how I am meant to be, no, but I do not resign myself to it by admitting to my mental battles. They are embarrassing, and I am constantly surprised at how far-reaching my battle truly is, but I think God has been opening my eyes to the far corners of the struggle for a reason. This is just one of the many ways anxiety and depression and the phobias I deal with impact my day-to-day life. My victories may be minuscule to the outside observer but every day that I get out of bed, take care of my children and husband, while remembering to brush my hair, or remembering to do things like eat, is a victory. I think a lot of us are facing struggles we are afraid to share, but you are not alone. Sometimes that is all we need to hear for today to be a better one.

Small Victories

Dear Reader,

My husband discovered on Friday that an acquaintance of his was in our neck of the woods. He sent him a message telling him as much and soon it was arranged that they would meet up Saturday evening. There is a large anime convention in town and this person was helping man one of the booths at said event. After the convention closed for the day, he and some others hung out with my husband, sharing their mutual love of ocarinas and music. 

I stayed home with our two little ones, who decided that since Daddy was out it was as good a time as any to give me a hard time about going to bed. But this post is not about the frustration that ensued in my attempts to get them settled. When my husband returned later that night, he was beaming. For my husband to beam, that says something. He is not unhappy person, just not an overtly emotional person. I listened as he shared about how the evening unfolded, looked at the few pictures he had snapped and watched his videos. It was nice to see he had had a nice night out. We are both socially awkward. He has never used his Asperger's as a crutch but he will not deny it does blind him to many of the social niceties that exist. My issue stems more from a complete lack of confidence and my issues with anxiety.

After seeing how much fun he had had, I was torn when the suggestion of joining him at the convention the following day was posed. I wanted to go but I was hesitant to agree. So, I took a step back and considered why I was waffling. People. Soooo many people would be there! That alone would do it for me. Have you ever dove under water but took longer to reach the surface than planned? A small panic rises in the back of your mind and it is over before you can completely lose your cool but you still gasp and breathe in deep the open air. Walking through a large crowd is like that for me. I am swimming against the flow of the sea of people, choking and gasping, actually finding it difficult to breathe, only to finally emerge from the worst of it and find open water. Usually it means stepping outside and inhaling deeply. 

Still, I have been looking for opportunities to step out of my comfort zone. I could let my insecurities rule me, robbing me of the chance to have fun, or I could agree to go and make the most of a day out with my family. I chose to go. We overslept (ugh) and missed church, so the decision to go was made late in the morning. The kids were just thrilled we were going out, so they buzzed about, getting ready in record time. 

The drive was short, parking was mercifully easy to find (albeit a bit expensive) and the convention center was a fairly direct walk from there. We followed the stream of people, some costumed and some not, all the way to the front of the large building, where the stream emptied into the massive sea I had been dreading. There were people everywhere! After picking up our badges, we went into the building itself and I continued to be amazed at the sheer amount of people that had congregated. 

We wandered around looking at the booths, including the one my husband's new friend was running and then left to get a bite to eat. It was easy to cross the road. You just followed the herd! It was loud but not as chaotic as some cities I have visited have been. (New York City was a bit of a nightmare for someone like me, although I still count it as one of my fondest memories.) At one point, we passed by a gentleman standing on a box with a megaphone, preaching about hell and salvation. He was loud. Part of me admired his courage but I also wondered whether people really responded well to being shouted at and having tracts thrust as them; the ones guised as money. 

After eating, my husband played his ocarina in the park, while our kids played in the dirt and watched the planes taking off from the nearby airport. The park, too, was filled with people dressed up as an array of anime characters, as well as characters from other fandom. We saw a lot of Disney princesses, much to my daughter's delight. She thoroughly enjoyed seeing all the costumes and announced who she would dress up as next time (an answer that kept changing).

Our final activity was returning to the convention center and perusing the booths again, then sitting down so the kids could play and my husband could play his ocarina some more. And then, it was time to file out of the building, walk back to our car and drive home. In the car, I reflected on the day and could feel the anxiety creeping around underneath my skin. I felt wired. I had just spent my entire afternoon, into the evening, wandering around a crowded building. People could not help but brush past you at times, the kids were rolling on the floor, I had to mop pee off of the bathroom floor when my four-year-old did not sit back far enough on the seat and missed the toilet, I was breathing in the shared air of hundreds of people, I had eaten food prepared by strangers...," Breathe, Melissa! Breeathe!" 

My husband listened to me apologize about being a freak and he said, "You weren't a freak!" He said he had not noticed my anxieties, which admittedly is usually manifested in growly very irritable. I had hidden it? Wow. I was freaking out a little on the inside, some moments more than others, but as a whole I actually enjoyed our outing. I actually enjoyed my time out! Sure, my mind was whirring all the way home and I wanted to run my kids through some elaborate decontamination sequence, but I had survived without a panic attack! That was incredible and I had to give myself credit for that. Well, more importantly, and it goes without saying because He is just a major part of my existence, but God gets credit too. I do not know if it is wrong to accept some of the credit but I was proud of myself for actually applying some faith to my situation.

Small victories are still victories, and worth celebrating. A day at an anime convention may be a piece of cake for you but it was a hurdle for me to clear and I sailed over it. 

Sincerely, Melissa

Attack!

It has literally been years since I updated this blog but that by no means that I have not been dealing with spiritual warfare during this hiatus. No, the battle is quite alive in my life. Some days the roar of the enemy army is deafening. Other days, they have taken up camp just on the horizon and I can hear the murmur of their battle preparations. The clink of metalworkers creating new weapons. Merry laughter from the soldiers taking a breather in their quest. There are also the few and far between days where the enemy has retreated and I cannot even hear a whisper from the enemy's barbarians.

Regardless of where the enemy has taken up residence, be it at his base or the camp on the horizon the exact time or point of attack is never quite known. I can sense their eyes on the back of my head but it could be days or weeks before the enemy advances. I can feel their breath on the back of my neck, the attack imminent, yet the sword can hover above me before the painful blow is delivered.

Sometimes, the weapon grazes my arms, leaving a flesh wound. It can pierce deeply though, causing a sting that penetrates not only my flesh but my heart. These are the crippling, destructive wounds that take days, weeks and months to heal. Some leave me clinging to life. Broken and blinking back tears. Scarred, I can finally stand again without wincing but the mark of the enemy is left on my skin.

Spiritual warfare. It is delivered through different vessels. Financial insecurities in a marriage can lead to a broken and quarrelsome home. Guilt from a past affair can eat up a person and destroy hope for reconciliation. Depression. Worry. Discouragement. Fear. They are all weapons of the enemy aka. Satan.

I saw the opposing army pitching tents along the horizon and had done my best to put up defenses and have the soldiers in place. He has tried to spook me a number of times this past month but I warded him off time and again through prayer and seeking the power and Word of God. Still, Satan knows just where to poke. He knows how to draw the most blood.

Today, his attack blindsided me. Despite knowing that he had his demons' binoculars trained on me, I was blithely going about my afternoon when swoosh a spear went flying past my face. I narrowly dodged its pointed arrow. The battle had begun though.It was impossible to avoid the barrage of spears raining down from the sky. As the battle waged in my mind I was pinned to the ground, bleeding. In reality, I was hysterical. So consumed by the weapon of fear that I could not think clearly.

Fear, I would hazard to guess, is the most worn out weapon in my opponents' army. They may use a different one against you but it does not take much to realize it is definitely one way Satan constantly gets me down. Just look at my previous posts!

Fear is often irrational. It takes a concern or caution and blows it out of proportion. Sometimes all it takes is a trick of the mind to create an immobilizing fear. Seeing something out of the corner of my eye has sent me three feet in the air, heart racing before I take a closer look and laugh that I just jumped at a computer chord, a bag or even my own shadow. Knowing this about myself, I have made efforts in recent history to actually look at or confront what is causing me to be frightened. A strange shadow in the night can just be a grouping of items that cast a weird shape against the wall. That bump in the night likely has a perfectly logical explanation.

But I quickly realized there are some things I refuse to look closer at. If I think it is a lizard, I am not bound to poke my head in for an up close and personal confirmation. And so, in my washer I thought I saw what was a lizard as I scooped out my wet clothes. Instead of taking another glance I called my husband and had him take a look. Sure enough, it was indeed a lizard that had found his way into my wash. He did not make it.

This afternoon, after a nice lunch with my husband, I decided to be optimistic and thought maybe I could get to work around the house and maybe then I would feel encouraged, revitalized and that would rub off on my family. I prepared my baby girl to join me in her high chair so I could work in the kitchen but caught a glimpse of something long, skinny and black in the doorway to the laundry room. This is another instance where I was not about to stick around to confirm what I thought I saw. Grabbing my daughter, then the phone, I booked it out of the kitchen and called my husband who had not gone too far thankfully. He lovingly turned back around and pulled apart the laundry room looking for what I thought I had seen.

In Harry Potter, the wizards refuse to utter the name of the villain because it instills them with such an extreme fear. In my case, that word is... s-s-s-snake. I cannot stand them. I hate them with a passion. They scare me to my very core. To think I saw one in my home? Well, you can imagine how I responded.

Calm, collected, I said goodbye to my husband after he left to go back to work...ha! No, I freaked out. I was crying, hysterical, on the phone to my parents, who told me I was being ridiculous. In that moment, I did not want rational thinking. I just wanted to have someone come stay with me or pick me up. Rationality was out the door! And soon, so was I, standing in the enclosed patio with my baby girl, wishing I had a license so I could go somewhere. Anywhere but here, I thought.

And the worst part of all this is: I do believe I saw a snake...or at the very least something that truly looked like one. But my husband did not find anything, nor anything that resembled one. Is there actually one? If so, is it still in the laundry room chilling? Is it somewhere else in my home now? Was there ever one there?

Fear. The enemy thought it would be fun to sharpen the point on that one today. And here I now sit, quaking in my boots, unsure when the next wave of attacks will begin. I'm still reeling from the first onslaught. I will just rely on the One who can conquer the enemy. Prayer! Prayer! Prayer! And faith. God please grant me strength! I am so weary from this battle...

Seasons

It’s funny what I remember as the years go by; the scents, sounds and the sights that evoke memories of my childhood, my adolescence. It’s late September as I am writing this, finding shelter within our screened-in patio in. The sun was shining a few moments ago consuming me with the warmth that summer usually brings, when seemingly out of nowhere the clouds opened up and showered the earth (It is Florida after all). A scent of freshly fallen rain met my nose and reminded me of past spring showers, welcomed wholeheartedly after the chill of winter. The clouds have now hidden the sun away and the cool wind that was rustling through the trees before is now more pronounced on my bare arms and legs. Our gate is creaking back and forth in time with the wind, giving an air of eeriness. It is this combination that convinces me that autumn has begun after all. I just perceived three seasons in less than fifteen minutes, all because of the sights, sounds and scents that prompted memories locked away in my mind.

I have fond recollections of each season…

Springtime brings about the image of blooming flowers, lush green grass, baby animals and all the rest that go with my favourite holiday: Easter. As a child, I did not completely comprehend the significance of Easter as far as my Christian faith is concerned, but as I grew older the importance it had in my heart grew too. It is still nice to look back on all the Easter Egg hunts and family gatherings associated with the holiday, though.

Summer is my favourite season of all, which has got me questioning my ability to rationally think. I am terrified of thunderstorms you see, and when are they most prevalent? Thunderstorms aside, I just love the sunshine! I enjoy those family barbecues where everyone lingers late into the evening, because the sun never seems to set. Family picnics, swinging in the park, walks along the beach, drawing on the front doorstep, day trips, ice-cream stops…the list goes on. Summer evokes some of my best memories. Perhaps it has something to do with me being born in July.

What can I say about Fall? It is not my favourite season by a long stretch but there are many elements I can take in small doses… The slight chill that prompts me to pull out a light sweater, picking out the best pumpkin in the patch, harvest festivals, Thanksgiving and of course the beautiful array of colours the leaves present. They’re fun when they’ve fallen too, all crunchy and in days of old, fun to jump into. My brother and I used to rake them for my Great Grandma. I just don’t like when they get soggy!

Winter? There’s not a whole lot I like about this season, which is one good thing about Florida. I do love snow when it is falling. It is just so pretty. Once it hits the ground, it can be enjoyable. I like sledding and used to love building forts. I never was into the snowball fights or skiing. The frigid temperatures are too much for me to bear, especially since I have been acclimatized to Florida.

I didn't have a particular purpose in writing this. I just wanted to write. Perhaps it will stir some memories for you. Good ones, I hope :)

Sincerely, Melissa

Every Season

sung by Nichole Nordeman

Every evening sky, an invitation

To trace the patterned stars

And early in July, a celebration

For freedom that is ours

And I notice You In children’s games

In those who watch them from the shade

Every drop of sun is full of fun and wonder

You are summer

And even when the trees have just surrendered

To the harvest time

Forfeiting their leaves in late September

And sending us inside

Still I notice You when change begins

And I am braced for colder winds

I will offer thanks for what has been and was to come

You are autumn

And everything in time and under heaven

Finally falls asleep

Wrapped in blankets white, all creation

Shivers underneath

And still I notice you

When branches crack

And in my breath on frosted glass

Even now in death, You open doors for life to enter

You are winter

And everything that’s new has bravely surfaced

Teaching us to breathe

What was frozen through is newly purposed

Turning all things green

So it is with You

And how You make me new

With every season’s change

And so it will be

As You are re-creating me

Summer, autumn, winter, spring

I Can Relate

I made a similar post as this a couple years ago now, but sometimes there is a song or quote that can just express what is going on in your life better than you could ever articulate on your own. The following are snippets from some of my favourite songs at the moment that really make me feel like the songwriters took a glimpse into my heart, while others I can just hear God speaking to me so clearly through...

"You're not alone, for I am here./Let me wipe away your every fear./My love, I've never left your side./I have seen you through te darkest night./And I'm the one whose loved you all your life./All of your life." You're Not Alone~Meredith Andrews

"No power of Hell./No scheme of man./Could ever pluck me from His hand./'Til He returns or calls me home/Here in the power of Christ I'll stand."
In Christ Alone~Adrienne Liesching & Geoff Moore

"I can't believe that I'm here in this place again./How did I manage to mess up one more time?/This pattern seems to be the story of my life./Should have learned this lesson by the thousandth time." On My Own~Barlowgirl

"Dear God, It's me again down here./ Don't wanna sound insincere./ I'm lost, sometimes you're so unclear./ What can I do?/ I'm feeling so far from you." The Way to Begin~Rachael Lampa

"We've had every conversation in the world/ about what is right and what has all gone bad,/ but have I mentioned to you that this is all I am,/ this is all that I have./ I'm not trying to judge you./ That's not my job./ I am just a seeker too, in search of God./ Somewhere somehow this subject became taboo./ I have no other way to communicate to you./ This is all that I am./ This is all that I have." Conversations~Sara Groves

"Do you want to be free?/ Lift your chains, I hold the key./ All power of Heaven and Earth belong to me." Set Me Free~Casting Crowns

"How many roads did I travel, before I walked down one that led me to You?/ How many dreams did unravel, before I believed in a hope that was true?/ How long?/ How far?/ What was meant to fulfill only emptied me still./ And all You ever wanted... Only me on my knees, Singing holy, holy/ And somehow all that matters now is You are holy, holy."
Holy~Nichole Nordeman

"I will stumble./ I will fall down./ But I will not be moved./ I will make mistakes./ I will face heartache./ But I will not be moved./ On Christ the Solid Rock I stand./ All other ground is sinking sand./ I will not be moved!" I Will Not Be Moved~Natalie Grant

"Am I the only one who's traded in the altar for a stage?/ The performance is convincing./ And we know every line by heart./ Only when no one is watching,/ Can we really fall apart."
Stained Glass Masquerade~Casting Crowns

"I was faced with passing time./ But I knew the choice was mine./ To finally come to you and give you all control./ I've wandered miles to find my way./ And then you revealed this simple faith./ I know that you can see the secrets of my soul." Lay Down My Pride~Jeremy Camp

"...He was bleeding from a beating/There were stripes upon his back/ And he wore a crown of thorns upon his head/ And he bore with every step,/ The scorn of those who cried out for his death./ Down the Via Dolorosa called the way of suffering./ Like a lamb came the Messiah, Christ the King./ But He chose to walk that road out of His love for you and me./ Down the Via Dolorosa, all the way to calvary." Via Dolorosa~Sandi Patti

"I feel alone here and cold here./ Though, I don't wanna die./ But the only anesthetic that makes me feel anything kills inside./ I do not want to be afraid./ I do not want to die inside just to breathe in./ I'm tired of feeling so numb./ Relief exists I find it when I am cut." Cut~Plumb

"Sometimes I feel like I'm just existing./ I'm not really living./ I'm only watching the time slip away./ I've forgotten who I am in you./ I'm not who I'm meant to be./ I'm drifting farther away from my destiny." Awaken~Natalie Grant

" 'My precious Son, I hear them screaming./ I'm watching the face of the enemy beaming./ But soon I will clothe You in robes of My own./ Jesus, this hurts Me much more than You know./ But this dark hour I must do nothing./ Though, I've heard Your unbearable cry./ The power in Your blood destroys all of the lies./ Soon You'll see past their unmerciful eyes./ Look there below, see the child trembling by her father's side./ Now I can tell You why./ She is why You must die.' "
Why~Nichole Nordeman

"I wanna set the world on fire./ Until it's burning bright for You./ It's everything that I desire./ Can I be the one You use?/ I, I am small but You, You are big enough./ I, I am weak but You, You are strong enough to take my dreams, come and give them wings./ Lord with You There's nothing I can not do./ Nothing I cannot do." Set the World on Fire~Britt Nicole

"Somewhere in the silence, I can hear your broken voice./ Like a radio station fading out of range./ Somewhere in the crowd from the corner of my eye, I thought that I could feel you- walking by./ And when I get this feeling like I am not so strong, I still can feel you with me./ Yeah, you've been there all along." When I Fall~Rachael Lampa

"I've had enough of living life for only me./ And reaching just for the things that keep destroying me." Psalm 73 (My God's Enough)~Barlowgirl feat. Todd Agnew

"Live today through the future's lens./ Don't wanna wish you could rewind and play it again./ Stand up write the soundtrack for your life./ It doesn't happen to you, you happen to life./ Stand up, do something with your light./ It doesn't happen to you, you happen to life."
Stand Up~Superchick

I Love Him*

Do you get riled up when someone puts down a member of your family? Somehow, whether the family member in question is right or wrong, you feel an extreme loyalty and a desire to defend them. It is the same mentality that says, “Hey! I can say that because I’m his sister, but don’t you dare say it!” When people talk trash about the ones we love and care about, it can feel like they might as well have directed it at us. It’s personal. It hits close to home. Other times, the fire is more of a heart ache. Your heart just shatters thinking about what that unkind word or thoughtless deed meant to your sister, brother, aunt, father, niece, cousin etc.

I was on one of the several social networking sites available today, browsing the updates made to friends’ profiles and perusing the applications you can add to your page. One of the girls in my circle of friends had a “bumper sticker” application, which allows you to pick from an assortment of uploaded icons and post them on your profile. I also have this application, so when I noticed she had a “Jesus Fish” icon, I decided I would also like to have that symbol, as a testimony of my faith. However, after a few frustrating attempts, I could not seem to get the picture to show up on my profile. ARGH! So, I decided to go about it the long way and hunt for another image, thinking perhaps the issue was with that particular image file. I selected “religion” from the drop down list and commenced the search for another “Jesus Fish”. What I found instead was disheartening.

Amongst a tower of rubbish, were a handful of genuine icons that depicted one religion or another, with a few that endorsed Christianity. Others mocked the faith. In some of the more offensive, Jesus himself was the brunt of some crude jokes. My husband put it well: It is one thing to make fun of Christians, for we are only human, but God is above mocking. After seeing one too many appalling jabs at Jesus, I gave up the quest and sat there on the couch, trying to digest the series of emotions that were turning around inside me. When I was able to sort it out, I realized I was hurt. I was genuinely saddened by what I had witnessed. I felt like I would feel if someone had just run my husband’s name through the mud with no evidence to back up their slander.

Then it became real.

I truly love my Savior! I often express this in prayer but it seems it has become more lip service than sincerity. It also reminded me, especially in light of Easter, this is not the first time Jesus has been mocked. Several years ago, he was beaten, spat upon, whipped, sliced, broken, bruised and taunted. The Roman soldiers, “stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him”, then irreverently placed a crown of thorns upon Jesus’ head, “They put a staff in his right hand and knelt in front of him and mocked him. ‘Hail, king of the Jews!’ they said.” (Matthew 27:28-29) He then had nails driven through his hands and feet so that He could be hung from a cross, for all to come and see, to jeer at and to scorn. Jesus gave His life that day for me, for you, and for the people who created the offensive images and text.

All my life I have had the point driven home, “Jesus loves you.” He loves me because He is love, “because the Bible tells me so”, because He laid down His life…the list goes on. But I do not believe I have heard as often what it means to love God. A few Sundays ago, there was a sermon about what is expected of us once we are saved. Of course, I could tell you what much of those things are, right? I mean, go to church, pray, worship, adhere to the Ten Commandments, read His Word…those are all good things; But why do we do these things? Is it “because the Bible tells me so”? Well, partially, but why should we want to obey His Word? We should want to obey Him, because we love Him. He showed the greatest example of love known to man. His, is an undying love of unfathomable proportions and all He asks for in return, is our love. With that love, comes the desire to obey and follow Him. It was quite the point he made! God wants us to love Him too. Well, I can honestly say I do love my Savior…and I do strive to demonstrate this not only in words, but in actions as well.

So, as Good Friday comes to a close and Easter Sunday approaches, I hope you consider the debt that was paid on that cross at Calvary for each and every one of us. His love is bigger than mine, it can love the lowliest of people, it is blind to race, colour, gender…We, too, are to love one another. It is a hard concept to put into practice sometimes but I am glad God died for the murders, the rapists, the liars, the adulterers, the thieves, the doubters, the hypocrites, the proud...because I used to be a sinner, now I’m a sinner saved by grace. And for this gift, I am thankful.

“Down the Via Dolorosa

In Jerusalem that day

The soldiers tried to clear the narrow street

But the crowd pressed in to see

The man condemned to die on calvary

His was bleeding from a beating

The were stripes upon his back

And he wore a crown of thorns upon his head

And he bore with every step

The scorn of those who cried out for his death

Down the Via Dolorosa

Called the way of suffering

Like a lamb came the Messiah

Christ the king

But he chose to walk that road out of his love

For you and me

Down the Via Dolorosa all the way

To Calvary”

(excerpt from Via Dolorosa sung by Sandi Patty)

* I wrote/published this on my former blog on March 22nd of this year, but I thought it was a good point to make again.