Light, Love, Hope

Every single one of us has a longing in our hearts to belong.  Whether you claim to be a “loner” or feel you’re an outgoing person that is the life of the party, deep down within all of us is a desire to be accepted for who we are.

Walking into a room full of people that you don’t know is quite intimidating.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a party, or if you’re going into a restaurant.  You feel you will be judged, because sadly, you have been on the receiving end of this far too many times.  Yet, what if the people on the other side of those doors welcomed you with open arms?  They are certainly supposed to when you enter a church, but that hasn’t always been the case for me and my family.  Feeling welcomed and as if you belong should never be in question when you walk through the doors of a church, but often times, those very people in those pews will look at you with judgement in their eyes.  They won’t include you into their little groups no matter what, but then you know that isn’t the church for you.  And you move on.

My daughter – 14 years old and full of beauty, from her long hair to her smile that could light up a room – was afraid to walk into a room yesterday and asked me to go with her.  She’s some where between a woman and a child.  And at that moment, this child needed her mother to walk in with her and show her that the people weren’t scary after all.  Now, they weren’t over excited that we were there, and they didn’t greet us with a smile.  They really just looked at us as we glanced around at the baked goods on the table that they had for sale.  We were picking up food from a fundraiser and thought we’d sneak a peek at the goodies.  While it was just a small room with three little old ladies inside, it was intimidating to my daughter.  She didn’t know what to expect, and neither did I really.  But we went in anyway hoping for the best.  It wasn’t anything spectacular, but we picked out our goodies and left the building.  The people weren’t mean.  They weren’t overfriendly either.  But, I think she discovered that her fear was not justified.  The little old ladies weren’t a threat to her after all.

Honestly … in life, that is all you can do is hope for the best in every situation we’re faced with.  Face it.  Don’t fear it!

But if you want to have a sense of belonging, you should also work harder on including people into your circle.  It isn’t one sided, you know.   What I do when I go into a room like that now is make eye contact with the people and smile.  Hopefully they will smile back as we say hello and we both have a pleasant experience.  But if you walk into the room unwilling to make eye contact or speak … that doesn’t give the people in the room a nice warm feeling of you either.  It truly goes both ways.

When was the last time you included someone in your plans that you normally wouldn’t?  Have you invited people to attend a function with you or just come into the quiet of your home and enjoy a cup of coffee and good conversation?

I’m trying to teach my daughter to not fear the people she encounters, like in the room with the baked goods.  I’m also trying to teach her to include others and be welcoming, herself.  It feels good to be accepted, and it also feels good to invite others in.  Be that person.   In inviting, you also open yourself to rejection.  I know.  But that isn’t on you – all you can do is invite.  It is up to others if they actually take you up on it.

We’ve talked about how everyone has a story and how important it is to share it.  But, why?  Why share?  Because someone out there stands to benefit from your story.  Someone out there is struggling and needs to know that you struggled, too, but you made it to the other side and are a survivor.  There are people going through very similar things that you’ve just gone through, so why not share in an effort to provide hope?

It’s no secret with the “female issues” I struggled with.  I was reminded of them when I was re-reading some entries from last year’s 31 Day Challenge.  My emotions were so strong back then, and rightly so.  I was really going through a lot with not only what was happening with my body but with fighting the insurance company as well.  Fast forward a year, and a lady came to me in tears asking for my help.   She started having some “female issues” of her own and was desperate to speak to me to learn what all I went through, how it helped, what doctor I used for the surgery and procedures, etc.   Thankfully, my employer is very understanding, and we were allowed to sit in the kitchen at my workplace and talk for about an hour and a half.   Her face showed her worry and concern, and at different points in our conversation she began to cry.  I comforted and reassured her as best I could.  She seemed a bit better after I shared my experience and gave her hope that her situation wasn’t as grim as she once thought.

Whatever happened with this lady?

Well, she’s facing surgery tomorrow.  Yet, she isn’t as wracked with fear at this point. She’s nervous, yes, but she’s better in knowing what I went through and how her situation isn’t quite as bad in some respects.  But she’s reassured that I’m walking around almost as good as new now, and she has hope that she will be, too!

And that, my friends, is why you should share your story … someone out there NEEDS you to do so!

Since I cheated with my first post on the Write For 31 Days, Greg came in – like a masked hero or knight in shining armor – and wrote on the prompt word for days one and two.  He has given me the inspiration to do likewise.  Being programmed as I am, it is hard for me not to give each individual prompt word the attention it rightly deserves.  In doing so, I want to give each word a separate page and devote my time to really focusing on just that word.  Alas, I’m now nine days behind, so I’ve tried to take Greg’s lead on this.  But, my strong-willed personality has taken over, and already I’ve written a long post solely on the word Believe …

And here we go …

BELIEVE

Back in 2007, I met a beautiful soul through the internet.  It was not a direct connection, though.  Our meeting came about due to a song entitled “I Believe.”  

Having been chosen to sing a solo at church, I was looking for an unique song to sing.  I didn’t want the traditional hymns they’d been singing for years, nor did I want a contemporary worship song we were used to singing in the 11 a.m. service.  Instead, I sought out a song that had a powerful message but was not the “norm.”  I wanted the words of the song and the melody to flow right across the congregation and sink right into their hearts and minds.

I found such a song in “I Believe.”

I contacted the songwriter to gain permission to sing her beautiful song about our Lord and Savior.  Not only did she grant permission, she was thrilled to have received a message from me regarding her song.  We exchanged several emails, and in doing so, she inquired as to where I lived.  When I responded, she advised me that one of her friends lived in my area.  She suggested that I get in touch with her fellow songwriter and friend.  When I did, this older lady was delighted with the thought of me singing this in church and then suggested that we should meet at some point.  Realizing she was just 15 minutes down the road from me absolutely thrilled me!

Not only did I meet this lady shortly thereafter, we helped me perfect the song right there in her home.  She had a room set up like a studio with a microphone and recording equipment.  She assisted and encouraged me, and we became good friends.  This lady that was old enough to be my grandmother became one of my dearest friends.

When her husband was ill, she would ask me to come to her house and sing for her.  Each time she would record me to play back at a later time when she needed to feel uplifted and encouraged.  Later, when I got involved with the interpretive movement team at church, she asked my family and I to come perform at her house for her.  She recorded us as we worshipped this way in song, although her passion really was through listening to me sing.

I had the pleasure of taking my friend, Greg, to her house in 2017.  Her husband had passed the year before, and she, herself, was falling ill.   We were lucky enough to visit with her and have her play while we sang for her.   Those memories are engraved in my mind.  I treasure them because it was precious time we spent together.

Sadly, my dear friend passed away shortly thereafter.  This world lost such a precious jewel the day she died.