Husbands, Can You Help Us Out a Little Bit?

Yesterday my way groovy friend Heather Brizzi and I had an iron sharpening iron session over the phone. Specifically we were talking about husbands and marriage, spiritual warfare, and prayer. Really, it all went together. It has stuck in my head, and this morning the Lord and I talked more about wives praying for their husbands.

 

If we are harcore real, the truth is most of us pray for others based on what we want out of it. We pray for people to be blessed or become or respond or act in a way that makes us feel good or makes things easy for us. Wives do that with their husbands. I know. I've been a wife. My female friends were wives. We've prayed together.

 

But this morning, the Lord is really impressing on me--

"If you did not look at your husband in relation to yourself and your prayers had nohting to do with you, what would you pray for your husband?"

 

That has me thinking, but we'll talk about that tomorrow or Monday becaus then the next question came to mind:

 

what would your husband want you to pray for him?

 

Huh.

 

So, men, I am asking you to be hardcore real and help us ladies out. What do you want your wife to pray for when she lifts you up to the Lord?

 

If you don't feel comfortable with a public answer, please PM me. I really want to know, and I know other ladies who want to know as well because some of us really have hearts to be great wives, so would you please help us out?

 

Thanks,

Jerri

www.jerrikelley.com

How I Messed Up My Marriage

More than once I've been asked how my marriage ended. People usually mean am I widow or divorced? Well, legally speaking, it ended when he moved out, I filed for divorce 6 months later, and then he dropped dead of a massive heart attack a month after that. However, that isn't really how it ended. It ended long before that. Marriages do, you know. They end long before someone declares them dead.

Mine ended about the second the pastor said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

I know. How in the world can a marriage end at the moment it starts?

Simple. I messed up. Huge.

We dated for nearly three years before we were married. About nine months in, we broke up. Something wasn't okay. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it wasn't. When I tried to talk to him about it, he asked simply, "Do you want to break up?"

And we did.

We shouldn't have. The break up, how it happened, how he reacted, should have told me to run the other direction, but there were a lot of other voices telling me how amazing he was, how perfect he was, how messed up I was. "In fact," these voices told me, "that is the problem. You are so messed up, you don't realize how amazing he is."

I believed them.

THAT is where I messed up.

I messed up when I ignored that quiet voice that said, "This isn't it."
I messed up when I ignored "little things" that concerned me.
I messed up when I chose to look only at the good things.
I messed up when I didn't trust myself when something kept telling me something was seriously wrong.
I messed up when I didn't believe what I knew even though I couldn't put it into words.
I messed up when I said, "I do," because I couldn't give a good reason why I didn't...and didn't think, "Because I don't," wasn't good enough.

Let me tell you something, "Because I don't," is good enough.

I told someone once that I felt like I had gotten on a crazy ride and didn't know how to get off. How do you get off when you are the only one who thinks it isn't the greatest thing ever? When people around you are saying you should feel thankful you were invited in the first place? When people are telling you how crazy and stupid you are for not wanting to be there when they would give anything to be you?

Simple. Step off the ride and say, "Here you go. You can have it." Then walk away.

You don't have to know why someone is wrong for you, only that they are.

And the idea that you can make the right marriage with the wrong person...why would you intentionally do that? I mean really, that's just messed up.

The Hard Thing is Remembering How Easy You've Got It

Lots going on here at the Phillips Casa today.

Yesterday I put my husband on a plane and sent him to Virginia. This morning I received the call that he had arrived safely and the internment had already been held. My mind still thinks I'm too young to have a husband interred somewhere.

My dog is dying. After five days of Fred refusing to the eat the food that is good for his liver, even the vet said to get him to eat just anything, but it really doesn't matter since he no longer keeps his meds down.

My children's insurance is being cancelled.

I have to decide whether to fix the present heating system in my house or spend a few extra thousand and cut my bill by nearly half.

The 401k I inherited needs to be addressed concerning the investments for next year.

My youngest is sick with some head cold/sinus thing, so I didn't sleep because of his coughing and snorting.

Today WonderGirl and I had to decorate the cake for the baby shower he was going to do but couldn't because someone with a fever doesn't need to be decorating cakes.

So we did the baby shower cake and the devilled eggs and the pies and the rum cake and the dressing and...

And the dressing for church is ready too.

That's today's list.

Now, before you get all dressed up for a pity party, don't. I don't want to hear, "I'm sorry you have to deal with that." Everyone deals with this. This is just life. The challenge...the fatiguing part...is dealing with it by myself.

It's easy when you are married to become complacent in your gratitude. It's easy to become condescending in your arrogance. It is easy to take things for granted. In fact, it's easy to become flat out blind to the ways the other person makes your life better.

It is easy to focus on all the ways a person offends. It is easy to see the whiskers in the sink or the same meal every Friday night. It's easy to get tired of his watching football or get tired of hearing her talk about stuff that isn't really important to you. It's easy to build walls with our list of ways our spouses aren't perfect or don't meet every single need. It's easy to wallpaper our psyches with the ways we feel hurt, offended, or disinterested. It's easy to let our gripes build siege works against our marriages, and when we do, spouses become the enemy, and our family becomes the casualties.

It takes effort to be thankful. It takes effort to remember that husband who can't pick up his underwear out of the bathroom mows the yard and keeps it looking nice. It takes effort to remember that woman who has babbled on for an hour about her friends' latest drama is also the one who did the laundry so you have clothes for work. It is a choice to be thankful for the man who put gas in your car, picked up milk on the way home, fed the kids hotdogs and chips and camped with a movie so you could go out with friends. Is it the ideal quality time? Maybe not what I would want him to do every night, but just this one time, can you look at the man who is trying, the man with one kid in his lap and the other by his side under his arm, the man who doesn't know how to be the "perfect" husband but is glad you are his wife and be thankful he killed the spider and paid the bills and dealt with the plumber?

It is a choice to be thankful for the woman who sweeps and mops, buys the groceries, and makes dinner. Are hamburgers tiring every Friday night? I'd probably want something different, but today, can you  see the woman who deals with the school issues, the woman trying to balance disciplining the kids and encouraging the kids while sometimes not even liking them, the woman worried that she isn't as pretty or thin or whatever as she used to be...and maybe not as attractive to you as she used to be, the woman makes sure you have razors and toilet paper and soap in the shower and be thankful for her?

I don't know what "little things" your spouse does that makes the difference in your home, but I know it's easy to take it for granted. It's easy to stop seeing the blessing and instead see the bother. It can be a lot easier to gripe than to be grateful.

I'm not going to tell you that in light of this week being Thanksgiving you should thank God for this person who does these things that make life easier and sweeter. I'm going to tell you it's right now, and you should thank God for the person who does these things that make life easier and sweeter. I'm telling you tomorrow when your spouse is the human that makes you roll your eyes or close your ears or wish he/she were different, don't. Just don't. Don't roll the eyes. Don't close your ears. Don't wish he/she were different. Those are the stones that build hard hearts. I'm not saying don't address conflict. Address conflict, but do it with a heart of gratitude for this person. Do it with the goal to appreciate this person, not win against them. Your spouse is not the enemy. Forgetting the value of each other is.

Your spouse does not make your life hard. Your forgetting your spouse is a gift makes your heart hard.

The anecdote is gratitude...not for the big stuff, but for the everyday stuff because that is where life is lived. That is where life is made. You want to make your life with your spouse wonderful? Be hugely grateful for the little things.

May God open your eyes to see the greatness of the gift and may you extend the gift of great gratitude.

Blessings,
Jerri

On the Road to Hope with Miss Daisy

Dear Fallon,

Today I watched Driving Miss Daisy with the kids. It is one of our all time favorites.

It's the craziest kind of movie. It can terrify you so much you never want to marry or settle you down to your soul and pour courage you thought long gone and makes you sure marriage is a beautiful thing and you can really do this.

Of course, Miss Daisy and Hoke never marry, and yet, they kind of do, and in their never made official marriage, I find my fears and my hopes of ever trying such a thing again.

My fear are the differences, and my lands, don't they have enough to work with. Differences can create chasms and build walls and create their own miserable environment. Sort of like the flu bug that invades our bodies and makes us hate being alive at moments. But despite the differences, they found common ground, and I know, one could argue that they didn't exactly have a choice because Boolie wasn't going to let the situation go. Except they did have a choice. They could have chosen to be arrogant toward one another. They could have chosen to judge each other and see each other through preconceptions, like Miss Daisy did when Hoke ate the salmon, but instead, they learned to grow and understand. They accepted and acclimated.

Last week I wrote an essay about the fruit of the Spirit. Forbearance is the one fruit no one wants to pray for. I think it's because it demands so much change from ourselves. It demands that we understand where someone is and who they are and maybe why. It demands that we consider the possibility we are the ones who are wrong and are in fact, the grating part and we may be in the process of changing and the better version of ourselves. Forbearance isn't just tolerance. It's an active effort to demonstrate love despite any affliction we feel.

The truth is neither Miss Daisy nor Hoke changed a lot, not in general expression. Miss Daisy was still the blunt-speaking woman at the end she had been throughout the movie. She still had her opinions on how things should be, and she didn't mind telling folks. Except, she had changed. She had become appreciative and deeply grateful. Instead of keeping walls up, she ventured into his world, and she let him into hers. They made the vegetable garden like he had suggested, and when he offered to pick up the spoon to feed her pie, she didn't refuse or fuss. She moved her hand and let him feed her.

And he did.

He was no longer just a man trying to do an honest day's work for an honest day's pay. He wasn't just a driver tolerating the woman he had been hired to tend. He was the man who tried to find the door into her pain by sharing about his friend's dad being lynched as she grappled with Temple being bombed. He was the man who could have stayed home in the ice storm but instead brought her coffee because he knew her routine, and when she said, "There's nothing to do but keep me company," he smiled and said he would start a fire. Obviously her company was what he wanted anyway.

This is the man who had no fear about getting in her face when she had a break in faculties and couldn't find the papers for her students, the man who, instead of trying to coddle her, put a finger in her face and told her to pull herself together because he knew she had it in her to pull it together. Yeah, he had a job to lose if she didn't, but I think he was far more concerned about his friend than his job.

Interestingly, that is when she looked at him and said, "Hoke, you're my best friend."

And there you go. My hope.

After the things my husband said when he told me he wanted a divorce, I went through a period when I hoped for someone who thought I was perfect, but I don't hope for that anymore. Perfection is a prison because it doesn't allow for change or growth for either person. It's a lie of security that really just suffocates.

Now I hope for more. I hope for the differences and the forbearance to weather them. I hope for the determination to understand, accept, and acclimate. I hope for someone to find his way into my pain when I can't find my way out, and I hope he thinks the silly things are the endearing things. My hope of someone patient knowing I'm changing too and rough places are being smoothed, someone who knows when to tell me to step up and knows when I can't. Someone who thinks my company is enough.

Like I said, I know they were not married, and the cynics will say a marriage couldn't have survived such an environment, but a marriage has to survive that kind of environment or it will develop into that environment or worse. If two people don't respect, accept, and acclimate, they will grow intolerant. If they don't choose to find a way in, they will ultimately look for a way out. If the silly things aren't endearing, they will become irritating. If someone's company isn't enough, they will never be able to do enough to be the company you want.

People make the mistake of thinking love is something you feel. It's not. It's choosing to live a certain way.

Choosing to love more abundantly,

Me

Being the Princess

Dear Fallon,

It happened again yesterday. A well-meaning person commented that perhaps my strong, independent personality is the cause of my being single because really, what man wants a woman who is hard to lead?

I usually try to pick my words carefully so I don't give more ammunition for them to use and say, "That is exactly what I am talking about." However, yesterday, the statement hit the wrong raw nerve, and I said frankly, "I don't mind following a good leader. In fact, I would love a good leader to follow, but I have no patience for weak or unstable leaders, and I will not follow one. I will shoot him in the head, throw his body off the side of the road, and march on before I waste my time and sanity behind another weak leader."

Stop shaking your head. It's not like you are surprised.

And I keep trying to write this, and my tears blur the screen every time because the words hurt me. They always hurt me.

You know why I hate fairy tales? Because I believed them. I dreamed of being the princess the knight in shining armor saw as breathtaking, beautiful, and worth fighting for. I dreamed of being the princess the knight knew was valuable and worth saving. But that didn't happen, and I had two choices: 1. believe the broken knight in narcissistic, self-preserving armor who said I was beautiful but not worth the effort, or 2. believe I am beautiful, amazing, fascinating, intoxicating, and valuable no matter what any knight says.

I chose the latter.

I chose to be strong and fight for my children. I chose to be courageous to get us through the horrible pain and the loss that felt like it was going to swallow us whole. I chose not to let "not being chosen" define me or limit me.

And, yes, I became independent because there was no one to depend on.

There was no knight in shining armor. There is no cavalry. The Marines are not coming in to save the day.

So I gave up that princess waiting to be saved crap and became the princes who is strong, independent, courageous...and criticized for it.

But between you and me, I miss knowing at the end of the day there is a human being who wants to be part of my life and share his life with me. I miss the touch of a man's hand on the small of my back when I walk into somewhere, just that reassuring touch that says I've got your back.

On those days when everything hits hard and failure is not an option and I'm trying to find my footing, I would love to hear a human voice whisper to me, "It's going to be fine."

Last week I met a nice man who opened the door for me as we walked and talked, and after a fumble at a door, I remembered I needed to walk on his left side so he could reach the door and open it. Of course, we only had one more door after that, but it went smoothly. :-) And I was surprised at how nice it felt to step to the other side of the door, to know he had that, to feel covered. Isn't it weird how a man opening a door can make you feel safe? It isn't just a man opening a door, though. Lots of men open doors. Chivalry is alive and well among men. I witness it regularly. It was a few things. The way he carried himself. Where he stood. He allowed himself to be a safe place, and I'm quite sure it is about who he is and not any kind of romantic interest in me, but still, for those few seconds, it was nice to step into that realm where someone else had my back instead of my always covering everyone.

Sometimes I feel like a pansy because of the physical issues I have, but sometimes my body physically aches with the weight of things. I've had female friends tell me how they understand being a single mom because they have to do all the shuttling of the kids and handling schedules. They assure me they get it. And I wonder if they realize how much their husband bringing home dinner means or what a total blessing his making sure all the vehicles have gas and a recent oil change is. I wonder if they realize how much all those "small" things he does adds up to, because I know it's huge.

I have given it a lot of thought, and sometimes, I don't even need marriage. Just a wonderful man who calls and asks if I would like to go to dinner...and then picks the place. I'm so tired of making decisions there are times I simply don't eat because I don't want to decide what to make.

I would love to go to bed at night and be wrapped up in arms that assured me I'm not in this alone and I'm not going to drown because sometimes, it feels like I could, and who do you tell that to anyway? As a friend of mine posted on his Facebook page, "The problem with being strong is no one ever asks how you are?" That's pretty much true. Granted, last week two or three folks asked how I am, and I told them the weeks since my husband's birthday have been a struggle around here, and only one actually responded.

The truth is it really doesn't matter because at the end of the day dealing with the aftershock of the kid's grief after their dad's birthday is still my responsibility. Figuring out whether to invest in the fridge that could be best for WonderBoy if he pursues culinary arts or going cheap (because who needs bells and whistles anyway) is up to me. And I am the only one who can decide to give up the king-size bed and buy a full-size mattress because it is cheaper and more sensible and it is just me anyway...except I had hoped....

But you know, according to all kinds of wise folks who know all about these kinds of things despite not having lived anything like this, even that is wrong. I need to be happy with my life. I need to rebuild. I need to be whole on my own. I need to move on. The people who say such things need to get out of their cliché covered boxes. They are babblers who want to look like they have answers and some kind of wisdom when in fact, they have no clue. I mean, do you really get that is being said? "If your heart just quits wanting what your heart wants and is happy having something that isn't really what you wanted but other people think is a fine substitute, you're good."  Stop reading it over and over again. It won't help, and it doesn't change the fact I have a great life with great kids and great forward motion and great things I get to do and am whole and know I have purpose and value...but still want someone who wants to be part of the adventure.

You know, it isn't that I miss my husband or that I want to be saved by a man. I don't need saving at all. God really does have us, have me, and if a man is the type who needs to save a woman to feel good about himself, he can save both of us time and sanity by looking for some one else. No. I don't need saving. Enjoying feeling safe and needing saving are not the same things.

About a year after my husband died, I was telling a friend of mine how "not girly" I felt. He replied that I was strong and amazing, and he said, "Jerri, not all men like their princesses soft."

Maybe what he was saying is some men understand that some princesses don't want to be saved or need to be saved, but they still want to be safe.

Maybe some men understand there is a difference.

I hope so.

Still choosing to be the strong princess even if it makes me the single one,

Me

copyright 2014 Jerri Kelley Phillips, All Rights Reserved

Be Grateful. Tell him.

Dear ladies,
If you have a husband who took any of the responsibility today,
who maybe told you to take a rest while he made some tea for you,
who let you debrief all that is in your bulging mind,
let you sit by him and just be with him,
be grateful.
Tell him.
I'm not telling you that because I'm single and I'm jealous like some people want to be mouthy and say. I'm telling you that because he has probably annoyed you today or yesterday, and when someone is with you all day, you forget how much he adds to that day, how much he adds to your life.
Right now,
take a moment.
Remember.
Be grateful.
Tell him.

From my journal...When God Makes a Promise, He's Already Made the Plan to Fulfill It

(Written December 28, 2013)

I feel the urge to memorize Isaiah 32:2 (my word for 2014) before the first of the year. I don't want it to be mid-December when I finally get this one like it was for the word for 2013. Praise the Lord I finally got it, though. At least I can carry it with me the rest of my life.

This year I want to take more responsibility for this word. I'm not really sure how to do that. In the past I've tried to make things happen, part of that being and doing has been misguided and not realizing the Lord will make everything happen. It's really a hard concept for me honestly. I have responsibility to do my part, but yet, He does everything.

The analogy of marriage again popped into my head.

I love when He makes things so I can understand them.

He is the husband. He has promised to cover, provide, lead, and make a good life for us. He's given His word.

I am the wife. I am to:
--cultivate our relationship and be open to intimacy with Him
--steward my time so we always have time together, important things are done, others are part of our lives
--take care of myself so I am the best for Him and for us
--steward our resources well
--be in agreement with Him on how we raise our children
--take Him at His word

If He promises something, He will bring it to pass.

Those seem like simple enough guidelines. Think marriage. Not as the needy wife, but as the capable partner who is fully covered, whose weaknesses are not grounds for rejection, but are accepted as part of the whole package and are covered.

Isn't that what commitment in a relationship is?

We are committing to covering the other person's weaknesses.

I don't know how to explain it without it sounding warped, but we have to realize we are saying:

"I know you are figuring out conflict resolution and pretty much stink at it right now, are learning to communicate better by learning to trust me, working on your cooking, or whatever. I've got your back. If there is a chasm between us and you can only get 1/3 of the way across the bridge, I'll walk the other 2/3 of the way to get to you."

With the Lord, He already knows my weaknesses.

He already has me covered.

He already has a plan to meet me wherever I am.

When He promises something in our marriage, He already has the plan to get us there. He's already factored in my personality, my weaknesses and strengths, and everything else. He's not thinking, "Well, if everything goes just right and she gets her act together and handles this the way I need her to, we should be okay."

Nope.

He's thinking,
"I know my Jerri. I know what she's capable of. I know where she is going to get tired or discouraged. I know where she is going to excel and run wide open.
I know my Bride,
and I am confident we can do this."

And isn't that the key?

 

We can do this.

In the past, I've seen these promises as something I've had to accomplish, more like a command of who I need to be than a gift of what I get to live.

This year I want to live the gift.

As a Matter of Fact, I am Guarded

I'm struggling today. In fact, I'm really kind of angry, and I'm not shaking it like I normally do. Even with prayer, I'm not shaking it. Actually, every time I pray, I get angrier.

I was told my "guarded" state is preventing relationships, specifically romantic relationships. Here are my thoughts on that:

If I am guarded, maybe you should ask God what you did to cause it and/or how you should fix it.
It is not my job to chase you and convince you I am what you need. I am worth your pursuing me and demonstrating to me you are what I and my children need.
It is not my job to break into your world. If you want to be part of my world, ask.
If you have issues that make me "intimidating", my suggestion is for you to grow...up...and deal with your issues.
If you want to get to know me but find me unapproachable, find a new approach. Other people do it everyday, and they seem pretty okay with me being me.

Here are the simple truths:
I am worth pursuing.
I am worth the effort.
I believe as a daughter of God, I am to seek HIS face and heart first, and He will send the right man to seek me. If you do not have the courage or conviction to seek me, you are not the right man.
I am convinced of these truths and refuse to compromise them.

You call this "guarded". I call this a refusal to settle for less than what my Daddy has for me.

How a Broken Fairy Tale Becomes a Promised One

I don’t talk about today much. Not really sure what to say, but today was one of those days that simply can’t go by in silence, not when it screams so loudly of a God who loves recklessly and amazing people who are in cahoots with Him and the crazy reality change that happens when they get together and invade a person’s day. In this case, it is my day, and it is a day I really want to tell you about, so get some coffee or tea, maybe a sandwich, and your reading glasses! You’re really going to need your reading glasses…and get comfy. Really comfy. I’ll wait.

Ready now? Okay. About today…

 22 years ago today I committed my heart and life to the man with whom I thought I would grow old. We spoke the vows—in sickness and in health, in poverty and wealth, through thick and thin, come what may…till death do us part.

Except he didn’t…and then death did.

And it’s been three of these years, and I still don’t know what to do with today.

 
It’s a reminder of broken promises and broken dreams, and questions remain that will never have answers except the ones I just choose to call Truth, and I never expected to bury that young man when we were 42. Somehow I thought till death do us part included more wrinkles, older bodies, more time.

But there is the promise that even in the loss God is a giver, and even when death parts, God brings together. In light of such hope, what is there to grieve?

Except I do grieve.

And I look at my ring finger that still fidgets with a ring long removed, and the thought that this is not how things were supposed to be floats through my mind, but who am I to say what is supposed to be? All I know is what is…and what He has promised will be…and today…

Today…I am fighting the mental and emotional hang over of two days of battering.

Someone we knew when everything started three years crossed our path two days ago and opted to share more than she should have about the church we attended at the time. I knew the pastors and leadership had cut me lose, and my daughter had said people reacted to her differently. I did not realize it is because leadership had given the order to be uninvolved, to keep distance, to not try to deal with her because “she’s just so emotional.” Sometimes it is hard to differentiate between rage and soul-deep pain, and I am still spending time with the Father working through because right now, forgiveness isn’t there. And I wondered, “Why now?”

Why when we are finally obviously building a new life in a new house and finally feeling we are moving to where we are supposed to be? Why when an obvious “new start” is imminent? Why the dredging and the chaos of someone who feels she needs to tell us just how bad things were and how horribly church leadership treated us? Why 45 minutes of listening to her try to “help” us and make us feel better and tell us how to move on while I’m saying, “You don’t know us now. WE have moved on. You are the one still stuck there”?

A few hours later a jabbing message.

“So you are moving and didn’t tell anyone?”

Got to love in-laws who want to feel left out.

I pointed out that I had sent an email. I told about the kids, life, the move. Sent it to several people. A lot replied. No clue why it failed to reach that inbox. A few minutes later, lo and behold, maybe she should actually check her email.

Sigh.

And then the questions.

"Have you sold your house? Why are you moving? Well, I guess your house is paid for?"

And I am trying to figure out how to not be declared rude, while still saying, “Really, it’s none of your business.” Do I even care if I’m declared rude? If I don’t, am I bad person or just more honest than most?

In the midst of this, I’m messaging and texting folks who need to be loved on, praying the whole time for the right words, praying I don’t filter through my fatigue, hurt, and anger, praying to be Jesus while hell keeps banging on my front door.

 The next day, yesterday…

 The kids and I spent a lot of time yesterday evening and again today talking about spiritual warfare, specific attacks, how to identify it, how the enemy tries to break people down, and why demeaning and criticizing others in the name of “being funny” isn’t funny at all but a different form of bullying. We had a long conversation about the kinds of spirits that incite such behavior. It was good, but it was deeply personal because I’ve battled those spirits before first in my dad and then in Rob. In fact, I’m battled them enough to know they are not about the rejection of the person being attached but about the misery of the person doing the attack. Out of the heart the mouth speaks. Some hearts must hurt a lot.

 I watched everything unfold, took a deep breath, and realized God was closing a door. A door I had thought…and I was sad. It is okay. I trust God and His faithfulness and His choices, but after incident after incident of being told we are not worth fighting for, we are not worth the effort, we can’t get it right, then to be told the parts of me I believe are the greatest part of me are mere jokes and fodder for critical “humor”…I wasn’t reeling as I’ve done before. I didn’t take back on the whole rejected wife thing or post traumatic unloved identity. But I was sad. So very, very sad.

To make matters worse, the kayak trip I’ve looked forward to the last three months had to be cancelled because my Favorite Boy’s temp was elevated and tummy was rolling, and it doesn’t matter how much you need kayak time on a lake when your Heaven-Gift needs you.

And I was angry. I was angry at everyone who was part of the pain and loss that happened to us. I have rarely walked into the throne room and said, “I think you should let me kill them all.” But I did, and in that second, I would have lined them up and watched them fall. Then gone and had coffee and some kind of desert. Could I have truly done it? I don’t know. I like to think not, but in that moment, if someone had walked in my door and said, “Jerri, (list of people) have been ripped from this world and their dispatch was painful and awful,” I would have said, “Good,” and gone on because in my mind, they would no longer be her to cause pain, not for me or my family, not for anyone else. Good riddance.

So I stopped. Right there. In the throne room. I looked my Daddy in the face and said, “This isn’t who I am going to be. I refuse to be controlled by anger. I refuse to take up a cell in unforgiveness. I refuse to be imprisoned by the very garbage you set me free from, so talk to me. Where did this come from? Why did you allow it? How do I counter? What are you building in me through this?”

I wasn’t accusing God. I was conferring with my King. He is a warrior above all warriors. I needed to be at His feet to learn, to be equipped, to be given strategy for victory.

 And my phone rang.

 Scott and I talked twice last night. The first time I told him everything that had gone on, and I cried the whole time. It feels good to know I’m at a place with the right people so they know when I say, “I’m okay,” it’s true. It’s just sometimes the okay thing is to cry. As I told him the “lies”, the stuff people were accusing or dumping on us, he countered every one of them. When I told him how the lady said we need to learn to be happy again, he laughed. “Jerri, you are three of the happiest people I know.” I told him the rejection and the hurt, and he told me the love.

 When he called back later, I didn’t cry. We joked and talked heart stuff, and it was home, and after nearly 3 years of wandering, home feels good.

 When I woke up this morning, I was okay…and not.

 I had planned to fill today with laughter and memories and good stuff. I really so needed “good stuff” after the last two days. Even without them, “good stuff” would be nice, and could I just not think about it at all? Today, I mean. Could I simply just…could it be nothing? Because honestly, I’m tired of it being anything.

 So I got coffee and took my emotional/mental ick hangover to my recliner where I sat down with God. He’s been talking to me about dead things, tombs, and only people “not in their right mind” live in a graveyard, and I don’t know everything, but I know all these apparitions are a graveyard. How do I walk out of this graveyard and back into my right mind? HIS mind? After all, His mind is the only one that matters.

How do I deal with the stuff of the last few days? How do I deal with the rage at church leaders who leave their flock for dead? And that is exactly what this group had done.

“Go find them. Go find every sheep they declare dead.”

My mind flashed with vision and plans for the house, gatherings, groups…the safe place where people can breathe. These were the sheep declared dead. The ones wandering in the tombs needing someone to find them so they could find their right mind—His mind, His thoughts for them.

And I understood. I understood it all.

Why the attacks? Because I don’t handle thieving lions well. I don’t run from the roar. I run to it. I don’t get scared. I get mad, and I march right into my Daddy’s presence and ask, “So how do I kick his (rear end) this time?”

And I then, I go to war.

This morning, I went to war.

I prayed for people, wrote some emails and messages, fought on the front I was given, and it felt good, being me.

As for the unwelcome questions and the spiritual attack, I know what it is to have God hold my tongue, and I know what it is for Him to give me full reign. In both situations the last two days, He held my tongue. I was not wrong. I was not coward. I humbled myself under His hand and took the blows. He asked, “If battle lines are drawn, are you willing to do and say what has to be done and said even if it means losing those relationships?” Yes. I am, and it is heavy on me because usually that question means sacrifices will come. Battle lines can be hard, but the joy of Him…the absolute joy of Him…

Then I got on Facebook to check on a friend, and Rachel had commented on something I had posted which was actually her words, and she said, “You know Jerri Kelley Phillips-friends, I think you are one of the coolest people I know. I love your candor, humor and outlook on life. Do you know Dayna Oliver? I love you!”

This person who knew nothing of the battle spoke to every aspect of it, and that is always amazing to me, but what left me…”only God”…were her words, “I think you are one of the coolest people I know.” Of all the things to say. Of all the words to use.

“Cool”.

It’s more than being part of the “in crowd” or the one people look for at an event of think to ask to tagalong. It’s more than being the one folks want to date or dress like. It’s more than a name folks want to drop.

To me, to be “cool” is a whole package. Fascinating, funny, compassionate, real, fallible, able to apologize, thrilled for others, at peace with oneself, worth the time to talk and listen and know.

I have never felt “cool”.

And today, of all days, to be one of the coolest people this amazing, intelligent, beautiful hearted person of honor and integrity knows…

AND for her to post that AFTER I said I was taking a few days off FB to pray through “stuff”, which really meant God and I are working out some rather intensely human throne room honesty.

But there it was this morning. First thing. What a way to step into the day.

As I was pondering this and just letting myself soak in it, because really, when God gives you THAT kind of love letter, you let yourself wrap up in it and soak in it like a hot tub of luxurious bath water seeping warmth and all that is good right to the very bones of you. So I was soaking and letting it be life to my bones as it says in Psalms and Proverbs.

Then He whispered.

“Jerri, ask them. Let them be part of this.”

As I’ve shared before, I don’t have intimate relationships. I do not “do vulnerable”. I do not set myself up to be disappointed. I do not open doors for people to hurt me. Enough people do that without my putting a target on my back or heart. I don’t add to the ease of the shot.

However, in that very second He spoke, I felt it. The truth that there are people who do love us deeply, who do hurt us but never by intent (being human happens), who truly want to be part of this celebration and rejoicing.

“They need this as much as you do.”

Yes. Yes, they do. They need to be part of the harvest of a hard season. They need to be part of the rejoicing after the mourning. They need to be part of the wonder of God’s goodness and the fulfillment of His promises. They need the same closure we do.

In my mind, I saw dancing and clapping and a festival of celebration. I don’t know if it’ll be “real”, but in the spirit, this is what we all need. Our hearts need this. We’ve walked such a hard road, and the pain, even for those who didn’t know how to help, was real and hard, and the prayers were long and deep and tear-filled. The grief was heart wrenching to those who have loved us through this, and now, they need to rejoice with us. They need to partake in the fulfillment. Yes. They need to be part of this.

So, I posted on FB.

“Some of you have asked what you can do as we prepare to move, here are some things I need…”

And it was okay. If dozens replied. If none replied. It was okay.

It is an amazing thing to simply be okay with people and how they love me and how they can’t love me. It’s one of the most amazing gifts to simply enjoy knowing I am loved...and I am loved deeply by amazing people.

Some of you might not understand, but I have never felt loved like this. I’ve never felt loved by people who have seen me at my absolute worst, not just in pain but in rage, people who have taken some hard hits that were totally undeserved because I was just angry and hurt and lashed out at anyone who came close. People who have seen me when I trusted no one, so I questioned and doubted even their honest hearts. People who have stepped back to give me room to feel unthreatened but never left. People whose forgiveness and compassion blows my mind. I’ve never been loved by people who don’t punish for wrongs committed, either real or imaginary. I’ve never had people in my life that do not invoke fear because if I get it wrong, whatever “it” is, they are going to leave. Either mentally, emotionally, or physically, if I get it wrong—say the wrong thing, care too much or too little, do the wrong thing, don’t do or say something—they are gone.

Today, I looked at the people who have no idea about the last two days, who don’t know I need to step away from Facebook because I’m afraid the rage or pain will leak and I’ll make a fool of myself, and good grief, I feel I’ve done that enough—I look at these people who know none of this but are saying all the things I need to hear TODAY, and it hits me.

There is only one way they could know to say those things. Daddy had to tell them. They are speaking Daddy’s heart for me.

Then another whisper, “Their hearts are for you.”

The fear curtain pulls back and the walls drop, and right there in front of me, clear as day. I see it.

Hearts of these amazing people, and they truly are for me.

It is reality changing to know people have God’s heart for you. It creates a safe place like nothing human words can describe. There is a courage and boldness that comes unlike anything I’ve experienced, and I know how to be bold and courageous. I’ve done that a few times, but this is different. It is not so much what you do but who you are. In fact, that is exactly what it is. WHO YOU ARE. Because these people who have chosen God’s heart for you accepts who you are and loves who you are and looks at the “ugly” and says, “Being human can be stinky. I’m still in.”

And they are. And have been. And…when I asked God for “good stuff”…and oh, God, let it sink deep into my bones.

But who really has words to share all that anyway, and honestly, I don’t share those things because I really detest people who latch onto the “broken” pieces and “wounds” and feel the need to fix or heal or advise, and you know folks will do that. In fact, someone tried to do that Friday night. So, I sat in my revelation bath tub and soaked because, seriously, this is bone deep, to the core, change your DNA kind of stuff you just do not want to miss.

While I’m soaking, I feel the nudge to read.

Paula Moldenhaur has been blogging about her daughter’s wedding, and I’ve wanted to read it, but the Lord kept saying not yet. Until today. Except I didn’t want to read it today. I mean really, who wants to read about the fairytale wedding on the anniversary of the fairytale that was anything but one?

With a deep sigh and rolling eyes, I started to read…because when God nudges, you listen, not because you like it or because it’s easy, but because you know His character and if He says it’s good for you, it really is.

Fine. I could read one entry, and when I was sobbing because it hurt my heart, I could quit and say I had tried.

Except, when the tears came, I didn’t hurt. What I read sounded like God writing a letter to me that started with, “Let me tell you about this other promise I kept so you get how totally serious I am about what I promised YOU…”

I need to stop a moment and get us all in the same place.

As many of you know, when Rob moved out three years ago, God told me He had the kids and me. He said He would fight for us and when everything was done, I would know how much He loves me and I would never question that love again. It was hard to see that as I sat on my bed January 10, 2011, with a petition for divorce sitting in my lap. The tears were hot and fat, and my chest hurt from the clutching sobs. It was honestly happening. I was letting go of my dream of a healed marriage, and surely, SURELY He didn’t intend this. I mean. God hates divorce. Surely I missed it. Surely I was being selfish. Surely I just needed to get on my face and get more faith and fight through this. Surely…oh God…

Because I had repeatedly asked to try to work through things, I told Rob I would neither tell the kids about the divorce or remotely take responsibility for that choice. He agreed. Because he had not told the children, I had told no one. The only one who knew I was filing the next day was the paralegal who had prepared the paperwork for me.

As clear as anything, I heard Him say, “Jerri, you have my heart. This is of me. I promise you. I have the perfect husband for you and the perfect dad for the kids.”

Oh God…

I had no idea I could hurt like that.

Then a message from a dear friend popped up in my email, and oh.my.lands!, did I need a friendly email. It started, “I’ve been praying for you, and I doubt you want to hear this right now, but I know I am supposed to tell you.”

Numb is a strange thing.

I continued reading. “God says to do what is in your heart to do because it is of Him. He says—and please don’t get mad at me. Really this is HIS doing—He has the perfect husband for you and the perfect dad for the kids. Jerri, He has you.”

Over the next four days, I received emails with almost the exact same words. No one knew I had filed. No one knew anyone else who had emailed. There was no common link and no conspiracy. It was, without a doubt, God.

And it was horrible.

In the midst of the horrible, I asked God what to believe for. What does one have faith for when everything they have been having faith for is gone? He was kind when He whispered, “Jerri, I’m going to give you the fairy tale.”

What does that even look like? Seriously? And you know, really? The fairy tale?

Paula’s blog post today: Spirit Seeker Sunday Meets God’s Real-Life Fairy Tale

Less than two weeks ago I was frustrated with the whole cultural—and even “Christian”—relationship garbage. Actually, I haven’t been too keen on traditional relationships or mindset of men and women in a long time, but that day I had decided I’m okay being single. I do not need that mess again. He said, “Jerri, two are better than one. Three are not easily defeated.”

Fine…but I rolled my eyes. It was my least sarcastic way of saying, “If you say so.”

Right there in the first lines of Paula’s post…Ecclesiastes 4.

Still, I was fine. Typical marriage verses. Nothing big.

It was her daughter’s blog. Sarah’s blog did me in.

Now, obviously, I’m a blogger. I don’t know any men who actually read my blog. In the last month, there is someone I thought maybe-could-be-possibly, but he absolutely does not read my blog. My writing isn’t what I do. It is who I am. I am a writer. For someone to tell me he won’t read my writing because it’s not what he finds interesting or simply too long (yeah, this would make his eyeballs fall out) is to reject an integral part of me, and it didn’t take too many lengthy conversations for me to realize Mr. Maybe was Mr. Absolutely Not.

As I talked to God about it, I told Him, “The right one will think I’m important enough to read my blog.”

Simple statement. But really, who uses criteria like that when determining Mr. Right?

From the post:

“Sarah pounded out her passions and questions on a blog, writing mostly poems about her perception of life and God. One day she told me, “If I ever meet a guy who cares enough about my heart to read my blog I’m going to marry him.”
 
“(A friend) introduced them on Facebook. They chatted most of the night. Sarah mentioned she had a blog. David stayed up all night, read every post, then put several of his poems on a blog for her to read.”

Yep. Right there. That did it.

Insanity I tell you! This is the stuff of…fairy tales.

To add to this wild romance and wedding shindig being put together in front of my eyes was:

--the “delight” tattoos…and the healing love of His delighting in me and singing over me
--the crazy duct tape flowers
--the fact my word for the year is “JOY!” and each of her posts boasted about the joy God was pouring out
--the word to get over being poverty minded and expect big things and beautiful things…things above what they can think or imagine…which is what God speaks to me every time I try to talk myself into settling for what is reasonable
--and the people who gave and helped because they wanted to be part of the celebration
--and even the verse God gave me when I was lying in bed crying over how everything I did and was seemed to agitate Rob or make him unhappy and this whole being real thing is just a bit on the terrifying side and if I can’t be real, a marriage would have no hope, so maybe I don’t need to be married to anyone, and remember? I am okay with being single. And He sat with me and said with such kindness and tenderness, “Jerri, I give you my word. The man I send you will be different. You will be naked in every way, and you will never be ashamed by who you are.” Stick that right in there with waggling eyebrows.

And SO MUCH MORE, but….

SERIOUSLY?! WHO PUTS ALL THIS IN A FAIRY TALE?!

Especially one being told TODAY of all days?

When I finally finished reading it, I wiped all the tears and just had to be still and let God settle it in. It is too fantastic. Too…impossibly impossible…and yet, all things are possible with God.

Then I decided I needed to write this up because Paula would love to know since she likes stories like this, too. We are female writers with a thing for fairy tales.

As I tried to figure out a starting point, I wrote a date on the page, and I froze.

Just so you know up front, what I am about to share is not a topic for debate, and if it becomes one, I will erase comments and if need be, stop communicating. I don’t care what your thoughts are. I know what God said, and as usual, that is all I care about.

God gave me a date for the fairy tale wedding, and I haven’t really understood why “that date”. The numbers hold no major meaning, some but nothing that made me ooh and aah. I could find nothing that seemed God-ish, something truly outstanding and “wow” worthy.

Then, today.

When I wrote that date, I saw it. The date when the collapse started…only it was turned around and I saw the wedding date the Lord had given me, and I heard that clear voice again. “Jerri, I’m reversing everything that happened that day. Everything you’ve lost when the promise was broken will be reversed and given back to you. Your belonging, your friends, your joy, your dreams, your family, your marriage, your fairy tale. Everything that ended that day, I’m giving back.”

Oh.my.lands.

I simply closed my computer. I could not take it all in.

“More than I can think or imagine”…yeah. We were so far into that realm my mind couldn’t process.

When I did finally get back on my computer and checked FB, Lisa had begun to look for appliances for me and do the research that I absolutely abhor. She offered to check utility set up requirements, which I’ve never done because Rob always did it, and I was dreading the learning curve time. I don’t mind making phone calls, but goodness, that time chasing my tail!

Now it is nearly 2200, and this is 10 pages long, and I keep hearing voices in my head saying, “Nobody is going to want to read that,” but I know there are people who do want to read it, who are actually waiting to read it. They want to know how the God who chose me to be His wife lavished me with love and all things good TODAY, not just “good stuff” but all things good.

Today did not go remotely how I had hoped. It has turned my world every direction but “life as usual”. Instead of day steeped in broken promises, it has been filled by the One who can’t break His promises.

It has been an amazing day.

Even though my brain is tired, and mentally and emotionally I feel exhausted from the deluge of Him, I am like a child who has just been handed the ultimate Christmas. I don’t know if I can sleep, but I’m gonna try.

Night, y’all.

Thank you for being part of today. J

A Right Now Resurrection

Daddy,

I LOVE YOU!!!

Thank you for a chance to celebrate your power to resurrect dead lives, dead hopes, dead dreams, dead hearts, and dead souls.

 Thank you for a day given to celebrate your love that would rathe die for us than see us die.

 Thank you for the limitless power Jesus released when He hung on that cross and took our sins upon Himself so we could stand before you in His righteousness.

 Thank you for....oh, my heart...I lose words....

 Daddy, today there are people who need to hear your power, near to hear your hope, near to hear your love. There are people thinking their hopes, their dreams, their marriages, their kids, their careers, their callings, THEY THEMSELVES are dead or are too dead. There are people today GASPING FOR AIR thinking any moment it will be the last breath. Daddy, DADDY! Hear them. Respond to them. Pour yourself out on them. I pray the power that defeated eternal death on that cross would pour into these lives right now. RIGHT NOW! I bind these hopes and dreams to you. I bind these lives, relationships, purposes to you. Daddy, breathe life where it is needed. Make your presence known. Make it obvoius to these precious people that Resurrection wasn't something that just happened 2,000 years ago. It is something that happens EVERY SINGLE DAY IN YOU. Jesus is the resurrection every single day, and in Him there is resurrection for whatever seems dead. In Him there is life right now for THEIR LIVES.

 Daddy, this day is not about Easter eggs or even awesome family dinners—although you are ALL about family. Today is a day of resurrection, and there is so much you want to resurrect. I pray you would give the hope, faith, and courage to each person waiting for the resurrection that they might believe in what you want to resurrect in their lives.

 Thank you, Daddy. I love you.

 I see a husband who has made mistakes, not understood true manhood, not understood what a strong husband truly is, and he is wondering if he has blown it without possibility of redemption. The Lord says, “A broken spirit and contrite heart I will not refuse. Humble yourself before me. I will teach you to love her.”

 I see a woman crying over her family. I think it is her kids. She is sitting at a dining table, crying out. Oh, Lord, she is crying out. I hear Him saying, “Trust in me. Simply trust in me.” I believe He wants to teach you how to stop parenting in fear and start parenting in faith. You’ve created a chasm because you’ve been trying to control because you are scared for your kids. Your afraid of their going down the road you did or worse. He doesn’t want you to live in fear. Fear only kills. Faith heals and gives life. Pour yourself into Him and let Him pour into you. Let your prayer be for your trust in him to be increased, and as you give them to Him, you will see their hearts turn back to you and to home. More than that, you will see their hearts turn to Him, and He says not to panic over missteps or sidesteps. He has not abandoned them. Fathers don’t abandon their kids.

 I also see someone sitting by either a large lake or an ocean. Young woman. You’re heart is broken. I feel like you keep muttering to yourself that you’ve made such a mess of things and you are specifically referring to things you’ve done, the life you are now living, and you feel bound to this life, like you don’t know how to get out, like you’ve created this prison with friendships and choices. The Lord wants you to know there is no prison He can’t get you out of, and yes, the exodus can be challenging, but He can get you out and wants to get you out. He adores you. Did you hear that? He adores you, and if you put your hand out, He is all in. He’s ready to save you. Just set your face like flint and be prepared for a lot of changes. He’s going to get you out of that environment, away from those people, and He is going to give you a new place with new relationships. I also feel like He is saying, “Don’t believe the lie you are unworthy. Only I get to determine your worth, and you are worth this to Me.”

 I also feel like there is a drug addict and also someone who has had an abortion, and you cannot believe you’ve gotten where you are. You disgust yourself. The Lord says He knows the road that got you here. He knows the pain that led to your decisions, and not only does He want to heal you of the pain of those decisions, He wants to heal you of the pain that led you here in the first place.

 I see a sexual abuse victim. Young person, and He wants you to know your cries have not gone unheard. He has heard you. Daddy, this is hard for me because you know my heart about this. I am asking you to do what has to be done to reveal this abomination. I pray for you to remove this abuser from this person’s life. I pray for safe refuge. I pray for a safe place to heal. I pray the lies that this person is the cause of the abuse would be silenced. I ask you to slap down the person inflicting this pain. I ask you to heal everything that has been harmed in this victim’s mind, heart, and spirit. I pray for physical healing. I pray for complete restoration of identity and joy in who you made this person to me. I pray for the young man that you would restore his manhood, that he would not fear being a man, that he would not loathe being a man, that he would not see his manhood as dirty or evil but that he would rejoice in the gift of being a godly man with integrity and honor. I break the ties Satan has placed on him in Jesus’ name, and I ask you to restore him to the fullness of who you made him to be.

And for this young woman who wants to mutilate her body or hide her womanness either in manliness or with obesity so no man will ever find her attractive and hurt her again, I ask you to heal her I ask you to restore to her the beauty of her womanhood. I ask you to heal her from fear, heal her from shame. I pray that you would free her from the nightmares. Restore her to the woman you created her to be. There is gentleness and softness in her that is so needed, and I pray you would give this back to her.

Daddy, I bring before you this person who is being bullied. I ask for a steel canister to be placed around this person so that the verbal assault will fall on deaf ears and there would be no heart or mind damage. I know evil exists, and there is no perfect world, so I am asking for physical protection, that no contact would be made, and I ask that you would put a silencer in the ears of this victim so that the voices would not penetrate. I pray that the only voices this person hears would be voices speaking life and identifying this person as the gift YOU declare him/her to be, and I pray those voices would saturate the mind, heart, and spirit of this person.

I feel like there are so many who need a word from God, who need hope, who need to know God sees you and hears you. I’ve posted what I’ve heard specifically, but I feel like the Lord wants me to offer specific prayer to anyone who would like it. If you would like specific prayer, you can comment here or message me through my profile. I will pray and share with you what I feel the Lord says. If you would like the exchange to remain private, I will need an email where I can send my reply. I give you my word, I will share nothing with anyone else, not your name, not your need, not your email.

I pray today is a resurrection day for you. I pray you know more than ever that this day is about Jesus’ death for you because of His love for you.

Blessings,

Jerri