Greater: by Mercy Me
Bring your tired
Bring your shame
Bring your guilt
Bring your pain
Don’t you know that’s not you’re name
You will always be much more to me
Every day I wrestle with the voices
That keep telling me I’m not right
But that’s alright
‘Cause I hear a voice and He calls me redeemed
When others say I’ll never be enough
And greater is the One living inside of me
Than he who is living in the world
In the world
In the world
And greater is the One living inside of me
Than he who is living in the world
Bring your doubts
Bring your fears
Bring your hurt
Bring your tears
There’ll be no condemnation here
You are holy, righteous and redeemed
Every time I fall
There’ll be those who will call me
A mistake
Well that’s ok
There’ll be days I lose the battle
Grace says that it doesn’t matter
‘Cause the cross already won the war
He’s Greater
He’s Greater
I am learning to run freely
Understanding just how He sees me
And it makes me love Him more and more
He’s Greater
He’s Greater
I knew this song already, but it wasn't really until my beautiful friend Leilani said that this particular song was laid on her heart for me to hear it that I LISTENED. It was then that I really started to pay attention to the lyrics. Personally, the last several months have been rough. I moved across town, had my hours at work reduced but an extra day added (to officially seal the deal of ever again having a social life when normal people could hang out). Work became this hostile environment for me, instead of this place where I could see myself growing, thriving, giving. I also took two extra jobs to help make ends meet by moving in with a family to become their housekeeper and nanny again (same family I was with in graduate school). I then staffed with an incredible ministry again but it taxed all of my energy, and I left the weekend sapped and feeling 1000 things, but oddly alone. In short, it's been a CRAZY few months and roller coaster for me. Loneliness and doubts wage daily, and I'm fighting so many demons, seemingly alone, and fighting back the pit of despair again.
He's already won the war. HE'S ALREADY WON THE WAR. GRACE. Grace with myself, my short-comings, my doubts, my bad days, my pain, my "whoa is me" moments of self-pity, my discouragements... Grace with all that makes me human. Which I would love to just deny if I was being honest. But I'm hourly aware of just how much I fall SHORT. That used to make me angry because I WANT to be in control. Don't we all when we get honest? It's part of being HUMAN. This song is such a beautiful reminder to me to stop striving so hard. That the job has already been completed, and even on those harder days, He's already paid the price for me. {insert HUGE sigh of relief here}.
I've been asking a beautiful (but hard and dangerous) question lately: "God- HOW DO YOU SEE ME?" I used to be afraid of that, not wanting to know. Projecting my own images of what He would answer instead. It's refreshing to ask now and be met with very unexpected answers. He thinks I'm BEAUTIFUL. CREATIVE. INSIGHTFUL. HARD WORKING WHEN NO ONE ELSE NOTICES. Sigh. No judgement in those responses like I expected. Letting go of my shame. Of my fears. Of my bandages and baggage that I still carry and cling to out of comfort and habit. Let it go and receive something different. Obviously, this cycle hasn't been working for me, so I want something different instead. So it might mean something uncomfortable. Something unknown. But I can't grab for something new if I'm still holding on the the comfortable past because it's known. There is a lot I have to give up, but it's a beautiful trade. He wants my very fallen past and ways of not doing things right for HIS PERFECTION instead. I'm letting go and receiving something else instead. But it's an hourly choice, and He let's me decide. That's the beauty of Free Will. He waits for me to tell Him that I'm done trying in my own strength. But He has a much better plan instead!
Love,
Amy Christine
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Monday, September 22, 2014
"I am not God" and moruning for pre-stroke memories
I'm longing, Yearning. Wanting the pieces of the "Old Me" to be back somehow. Even to remember pieces of her. There was a lot about who I was pre-Febuary 25, 2009 that I didn't like. But there was a lot about that Amy Christine that was pretty great too. I haven't been able to grieve for what I lost then necessarily "because I look recovered" and I have this super-woman complex that I can't appear weak. To anyone. Ever. I read an article this morning that expressed similar emotions about my own stroke so eloquently. I loved the way that she expressed her missing memories and thoughts now: "So much is still inaccessible. I do not say things are missing; they are inaccessible". For a long time, partly because I didn't have the language for the event, I would say that things were missing or that they had fallen into the "Swiss Cheese" places of my brain, where I cannot access them anymore. Christine (from the article) helped me to express this idea that thoughts are no longer missing, but just inaccessible. I like that.
It's a long read, but well worth it. (http://www.buzzfeed.com/xtinehlee/i-had-a-stroke-at-33?bffb&utm_term=4ldqpgp#1gzelj5) Since my own Tramautic Brain Injury is something very few people could ever fathom or relate to (especially since mine was without cause, and being so young) this article really hit home for me because Christine understands and gets it. Although our strokes affected different parts of our brains, and she had a PFO (hole in her heart and one could not be found in my body when tested), having someone else express those ideas was a relief this morning. Tears freely came again.
There is SO MUCH about that time in my life that seems like a century ago. A different person even. Having aphasia (word salad when you attempt to speak, your words come out in random order but your brain doesn't compute that it's abnormal). The inability to walk. Talk. Swallow. Short term memory that only last minutes. Constantly feeling like Dory, the fish from 'Finding Nemo'. The inability to do much of anything on my own or independently. Being 28 and at the total dependence of your parents, friends, and nurses to do everything for you. Transfer you to a wheelchair. Take you to the bathroom with a catheter. Rapid weight-loss. A zillion pills and tests performed, usually without explanation. Complete and utter frustration that your body will not communicate with your brain. Being constantly misunderstood by literally everyone surrounding you. Not knowing how to communicate any of those frustrations in a healthy way, and felling completely trapped inside this body and world that should be familiar. Feeling betrayed by what should be familiar. The complete lack and desire to want to do things that used to bring you pleasure. The inability to remember who people were/are. The quest for answers to the illusive WHY that would never be reconciled. Slowly, I regained strength. I gained back my cognition's. The aphasia went away without explanation. I was able to begin to gain weight again. I was able to get back pieces of my memory and bodily functions. How or why those things happened, I will NEVER know. But my personality changed, and became MUCH more introverted and withdrawn. Mostly because I became so afraid of looking like I can't DO life. Can't make it on my own now. Can't... be human. Fallen. Broken. In need of something much greater than myself to fix the mess that I see all around me, every day. One thing I also loved from that article by Christine was that she emphasized that her stroke might be the best thing that ever happened to her. In a way, yes, I have an excuse for my two parts of my brain that are no longer inside of my head from the two craniotomy surgeries, but more than that, I have a reason to HAVE to have grace with myself daily now. I can't do it all. And I have to remind myself of that each and every day, especially when I look in the mirror and "look" alright. My tracheotomy and pic line scars help me to recall that "guess what. You almost DIED 5.5 years ago." Literally, I was on the brink of death itself. Doctors had very little hope for my future, but there was someone with a greater plan than could ever be imagined. NOW THAT brings me back to tears. Yet I "look" normal. Recovered. As if all is well.
I have had to repeat back to myself the mantra "I am not God. I am not in control" ALL DAY TODAY. Because I have needed the reminder that I have done nothing to orchestrate any of these events- nor the redemption of my circumstances since. So although life can feel isolating and alone some days, I am never alone really. I've been provided for every step of the way. That really is a beautiful reminder. Even when I feel exhausted and sleep deprived, I have to remember that there is one who cares for me, my well-being, all of my decisions and my every move. That helps me to relax and have more grace with myself in the day to day decisions that I make. What a beautiful mess. It makes zero sense, and I've become OK without having the answers and living in the NOT YET and the gray areas. I expressed to my counselor today that I like having things presentable, simplified & orderly... and that is not my life. Not now and hasn't for the past 5.5 years with this event and no explanation for it. Having the grace with myself to sit in that tension has become one of the best things for me. To learn and remember that I'm NOT in control. And the control was never meant to be mine to embrace even. That acceptance has been monumental and life-altering. Thanks for letting me ramble about my yearnings to remember and grieve for who I used to be long ago, while embracing all of who is here now :)
Love,
Amy Christine
It's a long read, but well worth it. (http://www.buzzfeed.com/xtinehlee/i-had-a-stroke-at-33?bffb&utm_term=4ldqpgp#1gzelj5) Since my own Tramautic Brain Injury is something very few people could ever fathom or relate to (especially since mine was without cause, and being so young) this article really hit home for me because Christine understands and gets it. Although our strokes affected different parts of our brains, and she had a PFO (hole in her heart and one could not be found in my body when tested), having someone else express those ideas was a relief this morning. Tears freely came again.
There is SO MUCH about that time in my life that seems like a century ago. A different person even. Having aphasia (word salad when you attempt to speak, your words come out in random order but your brain doesn't compute that it's abnormal). The inability to walk. Talk. Swallow. Short term memory that only last minutes. Constantly feeling like Dory, the fish from 'Finding Nemo'. The inability to do much of anything on my own or independently. Being 28 and at the total dependence of your parents, friends, and nurses to do everything for you. Transfer you to a wheelchair. Take you to the bathroom with a catheter. Rapid weight-loss. A zillion pills and tests performed, usually without explanation. Complete and utter frustration that your body will not communicate with your brain. Being constantly misunderstood by literally everyone surrounding you. Not knowing how to communicate any of those frustrations in a healthy way, and felling completely trapped inside this body and world that should be familiar. Feeling betrayed by what should be familiar. The complete lack and desire to want to do things that used to bring you pleasure. The inability to remember who people were/are. The quest for answers to the illusive WHY that would never be reconciled. Slowly, I regained strength. I gained back my cognition's. The aphasia went away without explanation. I was able to begin to gain weight again. I was able to get back pieces of my memory and bodily functions. How or why those things happened, I will NEVER know. But my personality changed, and became MUCH more introverted and withdrawn. Mostly because I became so afraid of looking like I can't DO life. Can't make it on my own now. Can't... be human. Fallen. Broken. In need of something much greater than myself to fix the mess that I see all around me, every day. One thing I also loved from that article by Christine was that she emphasized that her stroke might be the best thing that ever happened to her. In a way, yes, I have an excuse for my two parts of my brain that are no longer inside of my head from the two craniotomy surgeries, but more than that, I have a reason to HAVE to have grace with myself daily now. I can't do it all. And I have to remind myself of that each and every day, especially when I look in the mirror and "look" alright. My tracheotomy and pic line scars help me to recall that "guess what. You almost DIED 5.5 years ago." Literally, I was on the brink of death itself. Doctors had very little hope for my future, but there was someone with a greater plan than could ever be imagined. NOW THAT brings me back to tears. Yet I "look" normal. Recovered. As if all is well.
I have had to repeat back to myself the mantra "I am not God. I am not in control" ALL DAY TODAY. Because I have needed the reminder that I have done nothing to orchestrate any of these events- nor the redemption of my circumstances since. So although life can feel isolating and alone some days, I am never alone really. I've been provided for every step of the way. That really is a beautiful reminder. Even when I feel exhausted and sleep deprived, I have to remember that there is one who cares for me, my well-being, all of my decisions and my every move. That helps me to relax and have more grace with myself in the day to day decisions that I make. What a beautiful mess. It makes zero sense, and I've become OK without having the answers and living in the NOT YET and the gray areas. I expressed to my counselor today that I like having things presentable, simplified & orderly... and that is not my life. Not now and hasn't for the past 5.5 years with this event and no explanation for it. Having the grace with myself to sit in that tension has become one of the best things for me. To learn and remember that I'm NOT in control. And the control was never meant to be mine to embrace even. That acceptance has been monumental and life-altering. Thanks for letting me ramble about my yearnings to remember and grieve for who I used to be long ago, while embracing all of who is here now :)
Love,
Amy Christine
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Vulnerability and beginning to let go
It's been several weeks since I've posted a blog, but although I've been silent-ish in this place, I've started many "drafts" but haven't posted anything. My life has been a roller coaster (which I've accepted as my new normal, even with my attempts to hault the madness by cutting certain negative people out from my life and forcing boundaries for my own health and heart).
In the past month, I've gotten new hours/schedule at work (where I now work 6 DAYS a week but have less hours), moved to a different place in the city and become a nanny and a housekeeper again. I did all of this while also taking on A BUNCH of new responsibilities for a ministry that I LOVE working with. Every time I do staff a weekend for "Women at the Cross", spiritual warfare comes out of the woodwork in unexpected ways, including usually weird insomnia, headaches and pains (I've had FIVE cold sores in the last 5 weeks alone! The only medication they can give me increases my headaches!) But I'm finding that it is worth it. It's worth it to fight for these women. To step in and help them fight for their freedoms and help them see who they are in Christ. The fellowship I have found with these sisters has been incredible and timely to say the least. One of my sweet friends from WATC sent me this link and it finally made me CRY and begin to release some of these emotions to God. I haven't wanted to face just how toxic they are to hold on to for myself, even though it's one of my favorite things to help other women find in their own lives.
So the circumstances as of late are almost forcing me to stay tender (being sleep deprived the main factor), even though my flesh just wants A) to nap B)to become a hermit and pretend that I don't feel C)to never sign up to staff again, and even run from this time if I'm being honest. None of those things would be productive for me or the things that I have going on right now. I'm thankful that my heavenly Daddy knows that I can't do this thing called life alone and has brought some pretty special sisters around me to remind of His perspectives when things get hard. But that takes vulnerability on my part to ASK them to walk with me through my own brokenness (which is REALLY hard when you are stubbornly independent!). I'm beginning to let go of some of the crazy (almost delusional) fantasies that simply, just may not be now, or just may be altruistic thinking on my part. It's HARD. I DON'T like asking for help. I DON'T like being vulnerable... Simply put, I've seen it manupilated by others and it feels like weakness. I HATE admitting that I'm broken and utterly in need of someone to do it all for me- which is why I love this ministry because it's helped me embrace the fact that I'm broken and someone else already DID. And I don't have to look far to be reminded that I CAN'T do this alone and wasn't meant to. PRAISE BE TO GOD!
So as much as I dislike being vulnerable most of the time, and the letting go is painful, I'm thankful that I don't have to hold on to it all and that I'm not supposed to. I'm thankful for a ministry to plug into that serves me probably even more than I could attempt to give in "serving". So as much as "Let it go" from 'Frozen' is overplayed these days, it's becoming one of my mantra's as of late.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Shame and redemption
I staffed another 'Women at the Cross' event this last weekend. Again, it was amazing. These weekends are always incredible and full of awesome breakthroughs for the women who attend them. This weekend was no exception. I cannot even describe with words all of the things that can happen there.
I don't want to take away the suspense of any of the processes or what can happen when 72 women get together seeking God for each other, but there was a new process added for this last weekend. There is a shame talk and we all burned with fire some of our deepest shames together. With the ashes, we covered our faces with what was left of the ashes on our faces. We confessed how we can "show up" when we are trying to hide our shame from each other. Going around our circle, I saw my beautiful sisters covered in this nasty gray soot and saying that they can show up as a 'controller', a 'manipulator', a 'people pleaser' or that 'they hide from others'. What broke my heart was that the things that they were saying are not the ways that I view or interact with them at all. I started crying when I looked in the mirror and saw the way that I can come across to others when I am hiding in my shame, and it was so ugly. It was such a great picture and visualization of the ways that we as humans try to vie for some sort of control still. I was so saddened for my sisters who confessed and admitted to the ways that they try to do it... and yet I do similar thing(s). I hated grieving for my sisters, wanting to scream out that the ways that they try to cover it and hide is NOT THE WAY THAT GOD VIEWS THEM! I'll be remembering this picture for quite some time. I walked away from that process with a vivid visual picture the next time I am conscious of my hiding in my shame looks like. I don't want that to be my reality any longer.
Second awesome thing that happened over the weekend was my "job" for the weekend. I was the materials coordinator. I'm still amazed that the person who has memory issues was the one in charge of remembering who, what & where things were for the weekend?! Beacause that's logical?! A few years ago I couldn't remember what I had for breakfast (SERIOUSLY PEOPLE!!), and God redeemed that to say "this isn't at all about you and what you think you are capable of this weekend. I'm stretching you here." Boy did I feel it. Praise be. Wow. My own weekend rock work in fall 2011 was precisly about my traumatic brain inury/stroke and memory... and 2.5 years later I get assigned to the materials coordinator position. God has a quirky sense of humor for sure, but I actually liked aspects of the position because I could feel that it wasn't "ME" remembering. It may sound silly and maybe even insignificant, but to me, I could feel Him with me and using what I saw as a deficit. That's pretty huge.
Even with my frustrations for silly human brokenness on the weekends, I'm thankful for a community of women to journey through life with-- the good, the bad, and the ugly. I realize that the kind of community I've found is pretty rare for women to be authentic, so I'm grateful. Praise be to God for giving me a community to celebrate with, mourn with, and pray and praise with. Life is good and I'm full :)
Love,
Amy Christine
I don't want to take away the suspense of any of the processes or what can happen when 72 women get together seeking God for each other, but there was a new process added for this last weekend. There is a shame talk and we all burned with fire some of our deepest shames together. With the ashes, we covered our faces with what was left of the ashes on our faces. We confessed how we can "show up" when we are trying to hide our shame from each other. Going around our circle, I saw my beautiful sisters covered in this nasty gray soot and saying that they can show up as a 'controller', a 'manipulator', a 'people pleaser' or that 'they hide from others'. What broke my heart was that the things that they were saying are not the ways that I view or interact with them at all. I started crying when I looked in the mirror and saw the way that I can come across to others when I am hiding in my shame, and it was so ugly. It was such a great picture and visualization of the ways that we as humans try to vie for some sort of control still. I was so saddened for my sisters who confessed and admitted to the ways that they try to do it... and yet I do similar thing(s). I hated grieving for my sisters, wanting to scream out that the ways that they try to cover it and hide is NOT THE WAY THAT GOD VIEWS THEM! I'll be remembering this picture for quite some time. I walked away from that process with a vivid visual picture the next time I am conscious of my hiding in my shame looks like. I don't want that to be my reality any longer.
Second awesome thing that happened over the weekend was my "job" for the weekend. I was the materials coordinator. I'm still amazed that the person who has memory issues was the one in charge of remembering who, what & where things were for the weekend?! Beacause that's logical?! A few years ago I couldn't remember what I had for breakfast (SERIOUSLY PEOPLE!!), and God redeemed that to say "this isn't at all about you and what you think you are capable of this weekend. I'm stretching you here." Boy did I feel it. Praise be. Wow. My own weekend rock work in fall 2011 was precisly about my traumatic brain inury/stroke and memory... and 2.5 years later I get assigned to the materials coordinator position. God has a quirky sense of humor for sure, but I actually liked aspects of the position because I could feel that it wasn't "ME" remembering. It may sound silly and maybe even insignificant, but to me, I could feel Him with me and using what I saw as a deficit. That's pretty huge.
Even with my frustrations for silly human brokenness on the weekends, I'm thankful for a community of women to journey through life with-- the good, the bad, and the ugly. I realize that the kind of community I've found is pretty rare for women to be authentic, so I'm grateful. Praise be to God for giving me a community to celebrate with, mourn with, and pray and praise with. Life is good and I'm full :)
Love,
Amy Christine
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Miracle
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Doo-na-tay. It means 'Miracle' in biblical Greek (delta upsilon nu tau eta). My beautiful friend Angela helped me with the translation, since I had focused on knowing my counseling classes and readings, and she took the language classes!! This is serving as a permanent reminder on my harder days that He is still here, He has done great and mighty things in my life and even in spite of me, and as Isaiah 41:10 promises- "He will strengthen and help me, He upholds me by His right hand". When I get deeply engrossed in a pain vortex, I forget. If I'm honest, It's not just my lack of a 100% brain & memory anymore that cannot recall all that He has done for me, but simply my fallen and broken humanity. I would have been a great Israelite. I didn't even need the stroke and the 2 brain surgeries to blame for my grumbling and questioning. But with ALLLLL of the health questions that have arose since 2/25/2009 with no answers yet, I've needed something physical to cling to when I get hit with more doubts, lies, and discouragements. Most days if I'm being honest, it's exhausting keeping a smile on my face when I haven't slept well and my head is throbbing. I'm also realizing that attempting to always be 'the strong one' is one of my false selves, but I'm trying to live a different way than I'm used to for 33 years. But if I was to go back to bed every time I had pain... I would probably never get out. This tattoo was my 5th anniversary present to myself. On those hard days of pain, when Satan just continues to throw crap my direction, I needed something to help remind me of His promises.
It's a great conversation starter too, for people who want to know what these hieroglyphics on my wrist are. So now I get to tell them what it means, and maybe a little of what he has done in me. I've never known how to bring up the fact that He's done some pretty cool stuff in my life, but now I have something to bridge that conversation with people. He is so good. He's been a miracle worker, and it's very humbling to be one of His miracles that He literally put back together again. That's more than reason enough to celebrate and sing His praises :)
Love,
Amy Christine
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
5. Y.E.A.R.S.
Five years. 2/25 has become more important to me than most days, even my birthday or thanksgiving. It's the day that I can trace back to an actual pinpoint time in history when God clearly intervened, told Satan it wasn't my time to go home yet, and though I'm only physically left with 2 dents & 3 scars, what I've been through emotionally, spiritually, and physically since, cannot be articulated in words. I'm actually writing most of this post from the very room that the stroke happened in. Something happens you are faced with the thoughts "I should have died" and being told that fact by medical professionals. It's a sobering reality to know you are not here by chance anymore. That there was something that happened that should have caused your life to end 2/25/2009 BUT YOU ARE STILL HERE. I don't often talk openly about what happened. Not that I'm not proud to be God's miracle (and for that matter, we all are) but there were things that "lined up" 5 years ago that didn't cause me to die in my sleep like COULD have happened.
I can't even express how grateful I am for those things to have happened, and how often I do think of that reality now... If Brianna hasn't been home on maternity leave with 4 week old Chase; If the paramedics hadn't believed her insistence to take me to the hospital for this "migraine"; If I hadn't fallen down at the hospital and a doctor saw me & admitted me for testing; If Dr. Markey hadn't just stopped by on his day off; If the receptionist hadn't mentioned my case to him; If he hadn't taken a chance on both of my brain surgeries; If Ashlyn's wedding had been in Houston a month later; If I had been overseas as was my plan a year before; If I had been anywhere other than down the street from one of the best rehab hospitals in the country; If my mom had any other career where she could just take the rest of the school year off to be with me for 3.5 months in hospitals; If I didn't have incredible friends from all over the world praying for drastic healing and intervention... I mean, you don't have to be a believer in miracles to see that all of that "just couldn't happen", but it makes a pretty compelling argument to me that something greater was going on.
If you've entered my life in the last 5 years, here's a recap of some of the "highlights" from 5 years ago. Stroke presented as a migraine headache, only I had no control of my body, was vomiting blood, acting drunk at noon, and had no vision out of my left eye. Brianna and Aura Leigh called the paramedics for me and insisted that they at least take me to Littleton Adventist Hospital. Now my memory from 2/25 to the end of March (5 weeks) is blank because of the medically induced coma. I get flashes of things as though it were a dream and my family can fill in the holes. I barely remember beginning to talk again while at Porter Adventist. It was while at Porter that my family received the news that I would never return to school again (apparently that doctor didn't know that I was stubborn and what God was about to do). There were doubts if I would ever walk again, swallow, or talk. Those I fairly "easily" surpassed, though now I cannot articulate HOW they were done. I was discharged from Craig Hospital at the end of May, did outpatient rehab for a few weeks and then wet back to Michigan with my family for the summer. My sister got married 5 months to the day of my stroke, and I was able walk down the aisle for her as her maid-of-honor. My bestie Hilary joined me as my beautiful assistant all day to make sure that I had the stamina for the ceremony et al.
I returned to Denver that all for classes back in my graduate program at Denver Seminary and was welcomed back to work by my family at Starbucks. I moved in with good friends the Swansons, and attempted to grasp unto straws from the life I had known and led just 6 months before, but everything was different now with my brain injury and no drivers license. I had to learn to navigate this independent life I had once made for myself, now with VERY LITTLE voice or way to know how to advocate and navigate this post-TBI world. I had to relearn how to learn, at a graduate level no less. All without much support of really anyone who could understand how frightening the world had now become to me. With the support of some faithful and understanding people & professors, I finished my degree and graduated just 1 year after I had originally planned on doing so. I found a great community of support in the Downing House, and learned how to navigate the convouluted systems of government assistance almost on my own. I made a cross-country move after grad school, and then back to Denver after almost two years once my health declined severely in the Midwest. Denver is home, I feel safe here, as though I can thrive again. I think I needed to separate myself from the belief (probably most falsely assumed) that I was just "the stroke girl". Now that I have separated myself from that title, I refuse to take that on again. I'm not her, though it is part of my past and story now. So, it's been a crazy 5 years. So many things I didn't know I could conquer, and yet, I have. A stroke. Graduate school (with constant headaches). A sexual assault that brought intense PTSD. Heartbreaks. 2 cross-country moves. Listening to dozens of doctors from around the country analyze your scans and tell you "If this had happened just half a millimeter to the right... you couldn't ______ anymore". (Gulp!) Learning to depend on Someone Greater for all of my needs. Landing a fantastic job but feeling daily inadequate. Trusting that my best will never be enough and yet, I know the One who makes up for my lack. And that at the end of the day, I'm right where I know that I need to be and He will continue to direct my path, all the days of my life, as He always has before.
As always, I'm an open book, just ask. I won't necessarily open up so all of these things can spill out, but I don't mind necessarily be asked about any of it now either. And that's been the last 5 years in a very much condensed version :)
Love,
Amy Christine
for the first year of blogging, visit here---> http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/amynixon
I can't even express how grateful I am for those things to have happened, and how often I do think of that reality now... If Brianna hasn't been home on maternity leave with 4 week old Chase; If the paramedics hadn't believed her insistence to take me to the hospital for this "migraine"; If I hadn't fallen down at the hospital and a doctor saw me & admitted me for testing; If Dr. Markey hadn't just stopped by on his day off; If the receptionist hadn't mentioned my case to him; If he hadn't taken a chance on both of my brain surgeries; If Ashlyn's wedding had been in Houston a month later; If I had been overseas as was my plan a year before; If I had been anywhere other than down the street from one of the best rehab hospitals in the country; If my mom had any other career where she could just take the rest of the school year off to be with me for 3.5 months in hospitals; If I didn't have incredible friends from all over the world praying for drastic healing and intervention... I mean, you don't have to be a believer in miracles to see that all of that "just couldn't happen", but it makes a pretty compelling argument to me that something greater was going on.
If you've entered my life in the last 5 years, here's a recap of some of the "highlights" from 5 years ago. Stroke presented as a migraine headache, only I had no control of my body, was vomiting blood, acting drunk at noon, and had no vision out of my left eye. Brianna and Aura Leigh called the paramedics for me and insisted that they at least take me to Littleton Adventist Hospital. Now my memory from 2/25 to the end of March (5 weeks) is blank because of the medically induced coma. I get flashes of things as though it were a dream and my family can fill in the holes. I barely remember beginning to talk again while at Porter Adventist. It was while at Porter that my family received the news that I would never return to school again (apparently that doctor didn't know that I was stubborn and what God was about to do). There were doubts if I would ever walk again, swallow, or talk. Those I fairly "easily" surpassed, though now I cannot articulate HOW they were done. I was discharged from Craig Hospital at the end of May, did outpatient rehab for a few weeks and then wet back to Michigan with my family for the summer. My sister got married 5 months to the day of my stroke, and I was able walk down the aisle for her as her maid-of-honor. My bestie Hilary joined me as my beautiful assistant all day to make sure that I had the stamina for the ceremony et al.
I returned to Denver that all for classes back in my graduate program at Denver Seminary and was welcomed back to work by my family at Starbucks. I moved in with good friends the Swansons, and attempted to grasp unto straws from the life I had known and led just 6 months before, but everything was different now with my brain injury and no drivers license. I had to learn to navigate this independent life I had once made for myself, now with VERY LITTLE voice or way to know how to advocate and navigate this post-TBI world. I had to relearn how to learn, at a graduate level no less. All without much support of really anyone who could understand how frightening the world had now become to me. With the support of some faithful and understanding people & professors, I finished my degree and graduated just 1 year after I had originally planned on doing so. I found a great community of support in the Downing House, and learned how to navigate the convouluted systems of government assistance almost on my own. I made a cross-country move after grad school, and then back to Denver after almost two years once my health declined severely in the Midwest. Denver is home, I feel safe here, as though I can thrive again. I think I needed to separate myself from the belief (probably most falsely assumed) that I was just "the stroke girl". Now that I have separated myself from that title, I refuse to take that on again. I'm not her, though it is part of my past and story now. So, it's been a crazy 5 years. So many things I didn't know I could conquer, and yet, I have. A stroke. Graduate school (with constant headaches). A sexual assault that brought intense PTSD. Heartbreaks. 2 cross-country moves. Listening to dozens of doctors from around the country analyze your scans and tell you "If this had happened just half a millimeter to the right... you couldn't ______ anymore". (Gulp!) Learning to depend on Someone Greater for all of my needs. Landing a fantastic job but feeling daily inadequate. Trusting that my best will never be enough and yet, I know the One who makes up for my lack. And that at the end of the day, I'm right where I know that I need to be and He will continue to direct my path, all the days of my life, as He always has before.
As always, I'm an open book, just ask. I won't necessarily open up so all of these things can spill out, but I don't mind necessarily be asked about any of it now either. And that's been the last 5 years in a very much condensed version :)
Love,
Amy Christine
for the first year of blogging, visit here---> http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/amynixon
Monday, January 20, 2014
Beginning to let go
I went to a retreat this weekend on the "Heart", one of 4 "quadrants" that the Cross Ministry group focuses on, along with the Mind, Soul and Strength. The sisterhood and worship expressed there has been amazing to be a part of, and I'm ecstatic to get to spend eternity with these women. I want all of the women I know to be able to experience something similar to this, because I have found so much healing for my own life and walk with God. I cannot even express some of the freedoms that this ministry has helped to usher into my life in the last 2.5 years (and I've been following God for 17.5 years!) Not only do they bring home some amazing biblical truths in a way I have not thought about before, but being able to fight for those truths for other women brings about great freedoms in my own story too. There were so many good nuggets that Bob helped elaborate on this weekend, but my favorite reminder was probably the visualization that the tighter we hold on to our attachments (ie- the way things have to look or play out according to my vision for them), the less room that God actually has to do His thing in those events, people, or whatever we are imagining of how things must look. Gulp. That hit things on the head for me. Like many other type-A, oldest born perfectionists, "Things should play out according to the way that I see fit" and "if God would just cooperate with what I think should happen..." I've grasped to any sort of control I could fathom from the handful of trials in the last few years, in a desperate attempt to manage some sort of safety from the unmanageable events that befell my life. That wasn't how things were supposed to look for me. I didn't deserve them. Obviously God made a mistake, or better yet, it's all just a part of living in a fallen & depraved world, and makes me yearn for Heaven all the more. Each of those statements or beliefs have some truth behind them, but they are not the whole story, or even coming from the Heart of God for His daughter. By grasping for control or clinging to the victim mentality that I so easily run back to, I'm actually not giving God room to do what He needs and wants to do in my heart from the things that have happened to me. Ouch. Counter productive. Transformation isn't going from a clenched fist to a wide-open one right away. {EXHALE SIGH OF RELIEF!} But is simply beginning to acknowledge "This hasn't been working for me (obviously) so I'm going to let you in a bit. I need your river of grace to start to change how I've been living". I need to make room for Him IN THOSE HURTS, losses and disappointments for His river of grace to begin to do what should have been done all along.
Part of my fallen humanity is to try to fix it all myself... the very antithesis of what He wants to do in me and my circumstances. So I'm beginning to let go of my death-grip. I'm beginning to change my question from "Why Me?" to "God, how are you going to use this, for myself and for others?" What a difference in vantage point and a question. I want to let in room for His grace. I'm tired of clenching so tightly to things that haven't been working, and are just continuing to wound me further. I need transformation. I don't want to continue to live as a victim, and run back to those vortex's as if they can offer me any sort of hope. If you had asked me 5 years ago if I saw God using a stroke and a sexual assault to bring about His glory in my life, I would have thought you were completely insane. And yet 5 years later, those things are very true about my life. And I'm starting to become thankful in them, even for odd little things. I've had the incredible opportunity to walk alongside some wonderful people in both groups and listen with their questions of "Where is God in all of this??" When I think about it, that's all that I ever really wanted with my life, it's just come about in a very different avenue that I ever could have imagined. But moving from a victim to a survivor mentality has made a world of difference for me. Those things didn't take me down. When people hear about my stroke, they are often shocked because God has done so much healing outwardly since. Yes, I'm a walking miracle now. (And next month I will commemorate it with a tattoo on my wrist on my anniversary to never forget). When people hear about my attack, they are amazed at the strength it's taken to have these perspectives only two years later. Both are not of me. That keeps me humble. The minute I think I am somehow in control or grasp tighter, is when I inadvertently make myself or those events into an idol. I shudder to think of how many times I have done that. By grasping for control of the outcome I WANT, I remove the ability to transform to the way it really should be if I let God do what He needs to do in it. Again, for a first born perfectionist who loves "control"... this was a lightbulb & 'AHA!' kind of weekend. It's so freeing to begin to let go. Not necessarily of what happened to me, but of trying to run back to the past for comfort (which is really odd when you think about it). Forgiveness is not the same as forgetting. The bondage that has been self-inflicted... Yet He's been patient. He hasn't tried to barge in and tell me that I'm doing it all wrong. He's waited. Waited for me to begin to ask a different kind of question. Waited for me to get frustrated enough to ask to see things differently, from His perspective. I'm thirty three years old. I'm tired from hauling this baggage around with me. I want it ALL to be used to let others know of His transforming strength inside of me. I'm sure there will be more wounds, more trials, many more questions, but I'm thankful His river of grace never dries up and He never gets tired of us coming back to Him. And those are my thoughts from this weekend. It was amazing and possibly the beginning to some freedom.
Love,
Amy Christine
Part of my fallen humanity is to try to fix it all myself... the very antithesis of what He wants to do in me and my circumstances. So I'm beginning to let go of my death-grip. I'm beginning to change my question from "Why Me?" to "God, how are you going to use this, for myself and for others?" What a difference in vantage point and a question. I want to let in room for His grace. I'm tired of clenching so tightly to things that haven't been working, and are just continuing to wound me further. I need transformation. I don't want to continue to live as a victim, and run back to those vortex's as if they can offer me any sort of hope. If you had asked me 5 years ago if I saw God using a stroke and a sexual assault to bring about His glory in my life, I would have thought you were completely insane. And yet 5 years later, those things are very true about my life. And I'm starting to become thankful in them, even for odd little things. I've had the incredible opportunity to walk alongside some wonderful people in both groups and listen with their questions of "Where is God in all of this??" When I think about it, that's all that I ever really wanted with my life, it's just come about in a very different avenue that I ever could have imagined. But moving from a victim to a survivor mentality has made a world of difference for me. Those things didn't take me down. When people hear about my stroke, they are often shocked because God has done so much healing outwardly since. Yes, I'm a walking miracle now. (And next month I will commemorate it with a tattoo on my wrist on my anniversary to never forget). When people hear about my attack, they are amazed at the strength it's taken to have these perspectives only two years later. Both are not of me. That keeps me humble. The minute I think I am somehow in control or grasp tighter, is when I inadvertently make myself or those events into an idol. I shudder to think of how many times I have done that. By grasping for control of the outcome I WANT, I remove the ability to transform to the way it really should be if I let God do what He needs to do in it. Again, for a first born perfectionist who loves "control"... this was a lightbulb & 'AHA!' kind of weekend. It's so freeing to begin to let go. Not necessarily of what happened to me, but of trying to run back to the past for comfort (which is really odd when you think about it). Forgiveness is not the same as forgetting. The bondage that has been self-inflicted... Yet He's been patient. He hasn't tried to barge in and tell me that I'm doing it all wrong. He's waited. Waited for me to begin to ask a different kind of question. Waited for me to get frustrated enough to ask to see things differently, from His perspective. I'm thirty three years old. I'm tired from hauling this baggage around with me. I want it ALL to be used to let others know of His transforming strength inside of me. I'm sure there will be more wounds, more trials, many more questions, but I'm thankful His river of grace never dries up and He never gets tired of us coming back to Him. And those are my thoughts from this weekend. It was amazing and possibly the beginning to some freedom.
Love,
Amy Christine
Monday, January 6, 2014
The Art of Being a Healing Presence
"We are human. By opening to your humanness and accepting it, you allow others the safety of being human in your presence" (p. 24) My prayer is that by accepting my own limitations and admitting to my own faults and speaking of what past tense happened to me, this will allow others this freedom too. This book was an amazing read, one that I would encourage just about anyone to read! What an awesome and thought-provoking book!
This may just be one of the best books I've ever read. It expressed so much of what I already knew to be true in my heart. It's something that I've WANTED to be for others, for the times I've had it personally have forever changed me. That's why I went into ministry. That's why I went into counseling. I've learned to love sitting with others through whatever it is- sheer ecstasy, intense grief and pains, immense confusion, the dreaded "why" questions that life throws all of our ways... It's become one of my favorite things to be a part of that for others, even when it looks like just "silence". It's not rocket science, but the art of really listening to others is often anything but. I've learned that it is a very skillful art, often with burdens and trials yourself as the greatest teachers. As hurried Americans (myself included), "we often don't make time" because we just want others to get over it already. Move along. I feel uncomfortable with your grief or not having the answers to "fix you". I shudder thinking of the times that I've heard these things, said these things, or personally been too busy to help someone else by being a Healing presence for them...
"The Art of Being a Healing Presence" said so much truth in a very short read. It wasn't even half of my flight back home to Denver and I had it finished, I wrote this entry on the place yesterday because of how much it energized me to be this presence for others. I now have validation for desiring to do this and be this presence for others. I'm feeling my soul exhale. Anyone who knows my story over the last few years knows that I've had this unwavering assurance and faith to know that GOD IS AND WILL CONTINUE TO USE THESE CRAPPY CIRCUMSTANCES FOR GOOD. For me. For others. For who I'm growing into being. That's not a fortune cookie saying, but a deep assurance that these things will be made right. Just the transformation in my own life to become more of a listener and not assume on the first hear, but to rather just walk ALONGSIDE had been amazing. Living the life of a miraculous survivor, I have the privilege of knowing some pretty amazing & inspiring other survivors. In 2 very different arenas where people have lost their ability to trust and feel beyond powerless, crushed under the weight of being a victim, I've gotten the privilege to walk alongside and figure it out together. I don't have the answers, but I can help point you to the One who does. While my cheese is falling off my own cracker, I've needed people who were further along in their own journey to remind me that there really was light at the end of this very dark abyss.
I'm far enough out from my stroke (time wise) now that I can speak with assurance to others who are enduring something medically to know that it's true and stand in the gap of belief for them as they doubt. I'm getting there with my assaults. I hear from other survivors that may take years. After feeling it with my stoke, I know to believe them, and each day gets a little easier. Being away from Indy and continuing counseling for my assault have both helped immensely. Is everything rosy yet? By no means! But it does my own soul so much good to see healing in others. To watch their bondage fall off. To pray for lasting, healing changes and see it happen. To know, if even in just some small way, I helped to usher that healing in for them. Staying involved in ministries and support groups has allowed me to be present with others that are currently hurting. I was telling a friend earlier tonight on the phone that I've spent far too many years almost hiding who I really was, with paralyzing fear that I would be rejected. No more. I want my 33rd yar to be filled with confidence. Assurance. Faith. The knowledge of knowing that there is light at the end of the current abyss, and holding that for whom I'm walking with, in no hurry to arrive at some sort of destination. This book was almost permission to continue what I know in my heart to be true.
Love,
Amy Christine
The Art of Being a Healing Presence
James e Miller & Susan c. Cutshall
Isbn:978-1-885933-32-4
This may just be one of the best books I've ever read. It expressed so much of what I already knew to be true in my heart. It's something that I've WANTED to be for others, for the times I've had it personally have forever changed me. That's why I went into ministry. That's why I went into counseling. I've learned to love sitting with others through whatever it is- sheer ecstasy, intense grief and pains, immense confusion, the dreaded "why" questions that life throws all of our ways... It's become one of my favorite things to be a part of that for others, even when it looks like just "silence". It's not rocket science, but the art of really listening to others is often anything but. I've learned that it is a very skillful art, often with burdens and trials yourself as the greatest teachers. As hurried Americans (myself included), "we often don't make time" because we just want others to get over it already. Move along. I feel uncomfortable with your grief or not having the answers to "fix you". I shudder thinking of the times that I've heard these things, said these things, or personally been too busy to help someone else by being a Healing presence for them...
"The Art of Being a Healing Presence" said so much truth in a very short read. It wasn't even half of my flight back home to Denver and I had it finished, I wrote this entry on the place yesterday because of how much it energized me to be this presence for others. I now have validation for desiring to do this and be this presence for others. I'm feeling my soul exhale. Anyone who knows my story over the last few years knows that I've had this unwavering assurance and faith to know that GOD IS AND WILL CONTINUE TO USE THESE CRAPPY CIRCUMSTANCES FOR GOOD. For me. For others. For who I'm growing into being. That's not a fortune cookie saying, but a deep assurance that these things will be made right. Just the transformation in my own life to become more of a listener and not assume on the first hear, but to rather just walk ALONGSIDE had been amazing. Living the life of a miraculous survivor, I have the privilege of knowing some pretty amazing & inspiring other survivors. In 2 very different arenas where people have lost their ability to trust and feel beyond powerless, crushed under the weight of being a victim, I've gotten the privilege to walk alongside and figure it out together. I don't have the answers, but I can help point you to the One who does. While my cheese is falling off my own cracker, I've needed people who were further along in their own journey to remind me that there really was light at the end of this very dark abyss.
I'm far enough out from my stroke (time wise) now that I can speak with assurance to others who are enduring something medically to know that it's true and stand in the gap of belief for them as they doubt. I'm getting there with my assaults. I hear from other survivors that may take years. After feeling it with my stoke, I know to believe them, and each day gets a little easier. Being away from Indy and continuing counseling for my assault have both helped immensely. Is everything rosy yet? By no means! But it does my own soul so much good to see healing in others. To watch their bondage fall off. To pray for lasting, healing changes and see it happen. To know, if even in just some small way, I helped to usher that healing in for them. Staying involved in ministries and support groups has allowed me to be present with others that are currently hurting. I was telling a friend earlier tonight on the phone that I've spent far too many years almost hiding who I really was, with paralyzing fear that I would be rejected. No more. I want my 33rd yar to be filled with confidence. Assurance. Faith. The knowledge of knowing that there is light at the end of the current abyss, and holding that for whom I'm walking with, in no hurry to arrive at some sort of destination. This book was almost permission to continue what I know in my heart to be true.
Love,
Amy Christine
The Art of Being a Healing Presence
James e Miller & Susan c. Cutshall
Isbn:978-1-885933-32-4
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