Tag Archives: god

It’s Hard for Me to Say

It’s hard for me to say that I am pretty, even though I’ve been told that I am by people who I trust and love.

It’s hard for me to say that I am a fierce warrior, even though I know my story and know I’ve overcome.

It’s hard for me to say that I am a strong leader, even though the power reflected in my employees would clearly point in that direction.

It’s hard for me to say that I am a good wife, even though my husband constantly reminds me that I am.

It’s hard for me to say that I am a good mother, even though if you met my son’s you would see how awesome they are.

It is also hard for me to say that I am an addict, a liar, a thief, a cheat, a prostitute, a crackhead, a sexually abused child, even though if I am being honest about my past those words are there.

It’s becoming increasingly hard for me to say I’m a Christian, even though my love for Jesus and my faith in God grow substantially with each passing day.

These things, these words, these labels are what society has chosen for me and some of these, I have made for myself.  I cannot deny the hard truth that I almost killed myself and everyone I love with my addiction. I cannot deny it, because it happened and to deny it would mean to deny that I am not only a survivor, I am also redeemed in the eyes of my creator. I am saved, loved, forgiven.

So, although these things may be hard for me to say, I can look you in the eyes today and own these things, all of them, the good and the bad.  I can say that I am a beautiful woman of God, who has sold her body and soul for crack. I can say that I am a good mother who left her child alone or in the care of others to go get high. I can say that I have excelled at the art of marriage, even though I once failed miserably at it.

I am new, and that, is not hard for me to say.

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“I’m Never Writing Again!”

cross this out“I’m never writing again!” I cried out with tears in my eyes and a whimper in my voice. “I also deleted Facebook off my phone and I’m done getting on it!”

My husband is rarely surprised by my dramatics, but still always actively participates in helping me come to a quick resolution.  He has learned that listening with a sympathetic ear, then quickly redirecting whatever lie it is that I’m believing, is the best approach to the circus I drag to town on the crazy train.

“She’s better than me.  Her writing is so raw. She quoted scripture and cussed in the same paragraph. I’ll never be this good and I can’t take the embarrassment of it all. I quit!”

Ronnie wrapped his arms around me and let me cry it out.  He assured me that my writing is good, that people can relate to it and that I’ve just got to keep writing. I wiped away my tears and nodded my head, but damnit…I was done.

I thought about this all day, wondering if I should announce my departure from the podium, no, that’s so dramatic and attention seeking.  Maybe I would just go silent, no, that’s not what God called me to do. Ahhh! I should take a class and read material from more writers that I want to sound like! Wait!  That’s inauthentic.

I was spinning my wheels…did you hear it too? was spinning MY wheels, as if this calling was somehow meant for me. As if I was in control. As if I had a say in the whole thing.I had made this thing all about me and, quite frankly, it was mostly made up. All the thoughts in my head were swimming around, festering, giving each other high fives, breeding, pumping each other up, all the while sending me off the emotional cliff, headed for writer suicide!  I was doomed!

It’s a really bad place up there.  Exhausting. Lonely. Dark. There is very little truth conceived there and the demons that lurk there are evil ones, waiting for their hot bed, waiting to destroy me, ready to kill. It’s moldy and seething.  It’s the rotting flesh of my own pity. The place my confidence goes to die. It’s God-less there…or is it?

I believe that no place is God-less. I believe that the fear we live in is simply the privacy fence that we look through, seeing the green pastures ahead, but too afraid of the barbed wire we imagine is lining the top. I KNOW that God exists in crack houses and dirty motel rooms.  I know he follows his people into war. I know that he sits bed side during failed suicide attempts. I know.

So how in the hell could I deny that he was here, in this the ugliest of sins, envy? I couldn’t. He was there and I intended to seek his counseling, because I was dangling my feet right over that ledge, posted and ready to jump head first into the abyss.

“God. Help. Save me from this. I don’t want to be jealous.  I don’t want to be self-loathing. I don’t want to toss-away the passion you have given me. Help.”

He heard me.  I knew what I needed to do.

I picked up the phone and dialed her number.  What the world was I thinking? Was I really about to do this? Hopefully she won’t answer. She answered. I confessed. I was free.

The truth we shared was beautiful. I confessed my jealousy. I told her about my emotional breakdown. I murdered the demon that I had carried with me all day long. And you’d never guess, but she had felt the same way. Turns out, she isn’t super confident about her writing. She’s a little embarrassed each time she hits Post. We also talked about how rare it is that people are vulnerable enough to call and talk about what ails them, usually resorting to something far less attractive and far more damaging.

At the end of our conversation she thanked me for calling and told me I was a great writer. She reminded me that God used TWELVE disciples and a messiah to deliver one message. I and she are just two of the voices carrying the same message. The message that there is hope, that God does save and that although every voice is different, each is valuable.

“I’m never writing again!” quickly evolved into, “I think I’ll write about this!” And I’m glad I did. Today that monster didn’t win!

The Fear and Freedom of Taking the Plunge

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These last couple of weeks have been crazy ’round these parts.  There are a lot of changes going on in my business.  All good ones, but changes none-the-less, and change, even when it is good, can be scary.

On Sunday I went to Tonkawa Falls with a group of friends. We were quite the crew. My husband, my AA sponsor, one of my employees and a girl who I’ve been helping while she’s transitioning out of the strip clubs into a healthier lifestyle. All very different.  All very much alike.

At one point, all of us ladies made the climb to the top of the falls to check things out. We had noticed a group of boys sliding down the waterfall, then climbing back up and we needed to investigate further, so we did.  When we got up there we got the 411. If you sat in just the right spot, the current would usher you down the slippery rocks and into the icy, bubbling brew below. We all kind of laughed and talked about the dangers of it all and how, surely, we would hit our heads if we dared, so we watched, one, then two, then eventually several teenage boys tumble over, unharmed.

“Kinda looks like fun!” My employee remarked.

And it did!  After a few minutes of encouragement from the rest of us, she sat down, shivering and scared and she launched off!  feet first, screaming the whole way, into the water below, alive!  It. Was. Glorious!!!

One by one I watched my girlfriends fly that day!  After the falls, they mustered up the courage to leap from the highest peak.

It dawned on me that over the last couple of weeks I had witnessed so pretty awesome plunges.  We had a wonderful young lady staying with us through her final month of college and just the day before she walked the stage with a degree in business.  The once homeless, exotic dancer decided to finally turn in those stilettos and glitter body lotion and left today for a year-long program that helps women who have been sexually exploited. I jumped in with both feet and bought a $12,ooo juicer for my juice bar (that was scary) and my husband left his job to pursue something more fitting for him.

These actions were all different, and yet the fear and intimidation felt as we crossed the platform to that degree, got in the car to go get help, turned in that 2 week notice and entered in that credit card information, THAT was all the same. And for that we had each other.

The other similarity is the freedom we each felt as we realized that making those decisions and running full speed ahead, even though we were sweating bullets the whole way, was totally worth it.  We had done it and it was good!

Whatever cliff you are facing today or may be looking at tomorrow, because the cliffs will always rise, just know that you are not alone. Whether it is the hypothetical plunge or the 20 foot drop, be still and know.

These Servant Hands

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The picture you see here is not of dirty hands.  As a matter of fact, I wash my hands over 50 times a day, most recently with textured soap, the same kind that mechanics use.  Look closely.  Can you see the cracks?  See the stains? See the toil and strain?

I recently became more aware of the way my hands looked.  I went into a nail salon 2 weeks ago in preparation for a huge event that, not only was I attending, but was also sharing my testimony at. When the beautiful young girl picked up my hand to paint my nails she wrinkled her nose & made a comment about how badly I needed a manicure, but that there wasn’t much she could do at that point.

My hands are not dirty, they are stained from processing beets and other colorful fruits at my juice bar.  I try and I try to get them clean and uncracked, but nothing seems to work.  I think I’d have to take 2 weeks off to heal them completely. They are ugly, and gross (looking) and I have become increasingly aware of these facts.

This morning as I got ready for church I noticed them again. UGH…I was a greeter this morning.  It’s something that I take great pride in because I can’t offer much to my church body in the way of money or time, but by golly, I can wish them a helluva fine “Good morning!” But this morning as I got ready, all I could think about was how disgusting my hands looked.

I went into the bathroom, again, to give them one more good scrubbing, to no avail, then headed off to church, where I was sure that everyone who took a bulletin from me would notice.

Greeting went as it always does.  Lots of chit chatting with my greeting partner for the day, hugs and smiles from other church members, comments on hair and dresses and bow ties. Standing in the sunlight of the Spirit both figuratively and literally. Seeing my peeps.  My church family.  Serving them in the best way I know how, with a warm greeting!

As I snuck into church after the opening prayer and took my place next to my dad and my husband, I looked down.  There they were, those old tattered hands.  I had only just then thought of them again!  I had been sure that morning that I would have a hard time focusing on what I was doing because of the state my awful hands were in, but no, I hadn’t thought of them at all.

What a concept!  My service to others; people I love, people I hardly know, my friends, my family, total strangers, had completely taken all the fear, self loathing, embarrassment and inner voices away.  I had been healed, if even briefly by that simple act of selfless service to my fellows.

For the rest of the day I wore these battle scars with pride.  I work hard for these deep cracks and stains.  I love my life, dirty hands and all.  Most importantly, when I was feeling low, it wasn’t self-care that helped, it was helping others that healed.

Daddy/Daughter Date

It’s that time of year!  All the super sweet pictures of little girls dressed to the nines, being whisked away by their prince charming; Dad! To a lavish ball, filled with other dad’s and their daughters.  It’s magical and memorable.

I didn’t grow up in an environment that fostered a daddy/daughter relationship.  My biological father was abusive towards my mother and I feared him.  I loved him, but I feared him.  We didn’t go on dates, he didn’t teach me how a man is supposed to treat a woman, we weren’t buddies.  He was dad and what he said was rule.

He and my mother divorced when I was 9-ish and my mom met my step-father.  He was kind, loving towards my mother and genuine, something I had never experienced before.  He was so different and I did everything I could to run him off.  I have no clue, other than Divine intervention, how he stayed through my teenage years, but he did.  His dedication and love are the temperature by which I gauge most of my relationships today.

So when I see these adorable posts of fathers treating their little girls like princesses, my heart tugs and I think back to the last “date” I had with my real dad; my step-father!

As you probably already know, I am a recovered addict and alcoholic.  To say that I dragged my parents through the fire, would be an understatement.  I was nothing short of the death of them. On my last bender my mom started making funeral arrangements. Of course, I was convinced, and would have convinced you, that I was only hurting myself and that the pain and suffering my parents were feeling was sidebar.  It was not.  It was more real, confusing and conflicting to them than almost anyone.  They were definitely in the top 5 victims of my addiction.

I called my step-dad up one afternoon and asked him out on a date.

“Well…ok.  What will we be doing?” He asked.

“I was thinking that we could go for coffee and then to an AA meeting.”

He chuckled and agreed.

The next day I put on my all blue Chucks, a pair of blue jeans and a faded concert “t” and we were off! To a meeting. To a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. It was glorious!

He listened with intent, soaking up all that he could gather, hanging on the next words of each person in the room, hoping, maybe, for an answer to my affliction. One of his former bosses and close friends was an alcoholic in recovery and my step-father was privy to this lingo, but still captured by it all.

When we left, I thanked him.  I felt so loved and honored that this daddy/daughter date went so well.

Our relationship has changed over the last few years.  I have gone from being the phone call they dreaded to the receive to the daughter they can now relate to.  We don’t always see eye-to-eye…after all, he hates these tattoos, but we can find common ground in the relationship that we’ve built over the years.

I didn’t wear a ballgown or fix my hair.  He didn’t ring my doorbell or bring flowers.  But the best daddy/daughter date was had, our style, our speed, our God orchestrated.

 

Awkward Silence

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Silence is golden…or so they say.  It can be a coveted luxury for a new mom, the sacred place for a worshiping soul, the blank canvas for a studious learner.  It can also be death for an abused lover, pain for a suffering addict, the dark and lonely place of a mind that feels alone.

Almost 3 years ago I embarked on this sober journey…again.  I was known as a chronic relapser.  Someone who comes in and out of the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous, staying sober until life looks good, then tearing the whole thing down, only to scratch and claw their way back into AA, repeating the cycle. It is embarrassingly awkward, filled with judgment of people who don’t understand and lonely because clearly, you just can’t “get it.”

I ALWAYS wanted to be sober.  I longed for it to come easy to me.  I saw people, knew people, who had come in, dragged up from the depths of hell, much like myself, and they “got it.” Whatever “it” was, they got it.  I wanted that illusive “IT!”

Lack of desire was not the issue.  If you knew me when I was using, you know that I am not even a shadow of the person I was created to be.  God made me in His image to be loving towards people who are hard to love, kind & generous, creative.  When I am using, it’s as if the candle is blown out.  I can think of nothing more than of myself, justifying my poor behavior as acceptable, greedy & dried up in a desert of shame & pity.

When I washed ashore in September of 2013, in my own version of Nineveh, Victoria, TX, I felt the call to be creative.  I come from a family that fosters creation on one side and encourages hard work on the other, with little time for creativity.  I fell somewhere in between, loving both hard work and writing.  I needed and outlet for the time because I was given the chore of sitting still, being quiet and listening to God.  Not the easiest thing for a girl like me, but I knew my will had been broken, I was going to do whatever I was told to do, so I did.

I began this blog.  You can look back over those posts and see that my journey had just begun, but there was still a powerful story of redemption beginning to surface.  I was awakening, slowly but surely.  I received a phone call on afternoon, from someone I greatly admired who told me that I should put the brakes on this writing thing, that being so “out there” with my early recovery could be detrimental to my case in point.  I heard & listened & shut it down. I also got a comment from a person from my dark past, who did not have my best interest in mind.  These two incidents drove me to this 2 year awkward silence.

Recently, listening to God and not my fear of being “found out,” I started sharing my story.  I was given the green light from my husband to be candid, open, honest…even when it is ugly, about what I went through.  You see, this story is not just mine, it is his too.  He suffered on the other side of my addiction for 2 years, mostly silent, dying in his own way.  So to get his blessing to move forward was all the push I needed.

Here I am.  Back. With an incredible story of redemption, light, love that defied all obstacles, hope.  This isn’t just my story.  It is the story of many women, who sit in silence, wishing they too had an outlet.

Stay tuned.  This is just the first of many posts.  I can’t wait to tell you of all that has happened.  A love story that only God could’ve written. A business that was built in His hands.  A family stitched together with the Almighty thread of peace.  A life you would hardly recognize as the one violently tossed from the belly of the whale.

This story is ours.  Join me. Break the silence.

Beauty for Ashes

I have heard it said many times that God takes the horrible, tragic things in our lives and uses them for good.  A prime example in my life has been the relation and comradery I find in the 12-step program I attend.  Each one of those folks is using their darkest past to carry God’s light to the suffering afflicted in order to help them see that change is possible.  Another great example would be mother’s who put their children up for adoption.  The majority of children who are adopted out are not born into the greatest of circumstances, but their new family is able to provide them with the love they so desperately need.

Neither one of these senerio’s is perfect. Each one is still conducted by and through human beings, and we all know that humans will fail us, but in each one of these dramatic cases there is a common thread of God showing up and showing off.  He loves to take unbearable situations and make them remarkable!

I wanted to share with you a real time experience I had in this arena just yesterday.  It will demonstrate how humans fail, I fail even bigger, God comes in because I open the door and something even more out-standing than I could have ever imagined happens.  He is so Good.

A couple of days ago I called my husband.  A little back story here is that we are currently separated and I worked on utterly destroying our marriage for the last year.  We both have room for improvement, but my actions warrant complete dismissal.  Back to the story at hand.  I called him earlier than he likes to be called and I bugged him about something that I wanted him to do.  Great way to wake up, right…a nagging wife!  When he answered me, his tone was condescending and his manner was short. I immediately went on the defensive and ended the phone call, only to text him moments later.

The text was NOT nice.  It wasn’t wrong in the sense of context but it was accusatory and angry.  I needed to say what I said, but I didn’t do it in a very loving way.  It was a knee-jerk reaction to an uncomfortable situation and I wanted to shake him up.  The text ended with the threat of, “maybe we shouldn’t talk if you can’t change your behaviors.”

And with that, we didn’t talk for 30 long hours.

30 hours may not seem like a very long time, but in marital fight time, especially when 300 miles from each other, it’s an eternity.  I spent the first 5 hours checking my phone every 20 minute or less to see if he responded.  The next few hours were spent in anger contemplating whether I would answer the phone when he did call.  After that I went to bed and cried myself to sleep.  My dreams were awful.  I was hiding from someone and on the run.  I woke up unrested, but with a new resolve to make that day better than the last.

The problem was finding out how to do that.  In the past I would’ve acted out of fear.  I would’ve manipulated, spun my wheels until I got what I wanted, cried, begged, pleaded and degraded my own worth in the process.  Today would be different.

I started off by praying that God help me to focus on the task in front of me.  That each step be clearly marked and that my selfishness be removed so that I could follow through with duty.  I placed more emphasis on God and I let him carry me to work.

One of my jobs is cleaning houses.  During that process I asked God to help me do things differently.  To allow me to make a move I have never made before.  I called someone who God has lead me to as trusted leadership.  I told her about the situation and she spoke some truth about herself and her relationship into my life and I identified with her.  I had been selfish, I had reacted out of fear.  Did he need to stop speaking to me in a disrespectful manner? Yes. But how was my reaction going to transmit us to a place of common ground.  I was humbled by our talk and hung up refreshed.

I called on God again. I asked God to forgive me and to give me guidance on how to rectify the situation.  I waited and I sat still until I felt God move me to call my husband.  What ensued could only be attributed to God.

When we talked a heaviness was lifted.  I expressed my apologizes and insecurities.  I didn’t explain or justify, I simply laid my mistake down before him and asked him what I could do better.  We talked about it and he set some clear boundaries. I did the same.  I expressed my dissatisfaction with the tone he used and we both vowed to get better.  We talked through some of the hardest shortcomings of our 6 year marriage in a little over 30 minutes.  My husband told me that he could only tackle one issue at a time without getting to angry and I followed his lead.

Our conversation ended with the first truly unprovoked, unsolicited, unforced “I love you” we have shard in a very long time.

This is one of many times that I have found that just by letting go of the reigns and relinquishing control to the man upstairs, a dooms-day situation was turned into a beautiful bridge to recovery.

Thank you, God, for allowing me to mess up.  Thank you for loving me when I do and thank you for turning ashes to beauty.  You are an awesome God.

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All Things Made New

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Happy New Year!!!

What a wild ride 2013 was.  It wasn’t the best year I’ve ever faced, but I was brought to a place of utter dependence on God and that is worth all of the failing and falling that I did and continue to do.

I have a new apprication for the things in my life that came so easily to me.  Shelter, work, transportation, but most valued of all the things I attempted to destroy are the relationships with the people in this world that I truly love and care about.

You would be amazed at the love, consideration and grace that has been shown to me over the last year.  Someitmes I am shocked when certain people will still answer their phones or return text messages.

For a while I was under the impression that I didn’t deserve their love and kindness.  Then one day, it dawned on me, I absolutely didn’t deserve it, but they gave it any way.  They showed me what it was like to have forged true friendship and I am grateful in deeper ways than one could possibly imagine.

In light of all these amazing discoveries and revolutions, I decided that this year, instead of making a list of things that I resolved to “change” or things I would swear off, I made a list of things that I will do more of.  I am of the firm philosophy that if you fill your time with good things then the bad things eventually become obsolete.

This morning when I woke up I set my intentions as such:

Pray way more. Constant communication with my maker causes me to make less of my own decisions and depend more deeply on Him.

Spend more time repairing relationships with family and friends.  I have caused a lot of damage over my life time.  I should have my hands busy with this one.

Treat my body better.  What I put in it and what I do to it. More veggies, more working out.

Write often and with consistency.  Writing is a great passion of mine and I just don’t treat myself to it enough.

There are more, but I won’t bore you with the details.  As you can clearly devise…it’s going to be a year of addition and not subtraction.

2014. Here I come!

This blog is managed and written by Summer Shine aka Victory Chic. The opinions herein are endorsed solely by Summer and are not the opinion of any of the affiliates mentioned…so don’t go getting all crazy with anyone else. Don’t like what’s being said? UNSUBSCRIBE. Love ya!

Love Is Worth The Risk

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

C. L. Lewis

Last night I sat alone in my room contemplating a very risky future move that I am making. I considered all aspects and came to the conclusion that it’s risky, resource consuming and the results are inconclusive to says the least. As a matter of fact, the odds are NOT forever in my favor. If logic was at play here, I would be screwed.

Logic however, is not the deciding factor in this decision. Love is what’s on the table. My heart is what’s at risk. Money will be thrown away and my reputation, what is left of it, will be used against me. I am placing myself in a place of complete vulnerability to the circumstance.

I’ve laid bare my situation, so I’m not afraid to say that I am making a move that may seem careless and illogical. Although it is not careless, it is absolutely illogical and I am more grateful in this moment that I still have the courage to make illogical decisions.

Over the last year I have done everything I can to destroy the blessing of marriage that God has bestowed upon me. I have disassembled the very foundation on which I was given to build on. Brick by brick, layer by layer, I deconstructed every ounce of trust and demolished every crumb of emotion. I reduced my marriage to little more than an obligatory phone call each night, probably more out of pity than much else.

There is more blame and shame to be passed around than what I have time or permission to share, but the fact of the matter is this; I only live out my part of this marriage and I can only own what I have done. I only have time, energy and resources to clean up my mess and I intend on trying to do so.

The relationships that are the most important to me in this life are the ones that I damaged the most. I turned my back on God and quit believing that He could rescue me if I would just let Him. I lied, cheated and stole from my husband and son. My mother and father spent countless nights wondering if I was even alive, not to mention the deciet and neglect. My friends were exposed to my disease and trusted leaders were pushed to the side. I did what I could to harm myself and in the crossfire were these innocent bystanders. Their only crime, loving me.

I run. I am good at that. I run hard and fast and if I can hide, I will. I ran hard and fast to drugs and alcohol. I ran hard and fast to New Orleans. I ran hard and fast to Victoria and into the loving arms of my Father. He kept me here and healed my heart, but He is not done with me. My dependence on Him has increased but is not absolute. My mind focuses on Him, but not completely. I have faith, but it is not unshakeable, but He has brought me to a place of surrender, which is exactly where I belong.

I am going back to face the lions. I am going back to clean up my mess. If I told you that I didn’t have hopes for the future, I would be lieing. What I don’t have are expectations. A girl can dream, but my ambition is to clear away the wreckage of my past as unselfishly as I can pray it to be done.

I want my son to see how I feel. I want him to know that my undieing love for him in greater than any momentary fix. I want my husband to see that I am willing to look him in the eye and see the pain I have caused, feel the distance and experience the cold. I want my mother to see that she is my first choice for holidays even if I am fearful of being hurt. I want my friends to know that their unconditional love has not gone unnoticed and that I can trust the people that God has sent to guide me lovingly.

Sometime in January, when I feel completely released from my work here, I am going back to Waco.

This may seem risky. I assure you, it is. I am walking right back into the damage I have created, but how does a mess get cleaned up if you don’t go back with a broom and some gloves? God has armed me with some artillery. I trust that He is not giving me anything I can’t handle. He is good.

I know that this will not be easy. I know that there will be many tears shed. I know that I risk humiliation, hurt, heartache and discipline. I also know that the love I have been given from above and here one earth is totally worth the risk.

Lord, please guide me. Give me strength. Do not let me grow weary in good works. Show me how to love as you have loved…sacrifically.

Palms up. Minds open. Hearts receiving. Others touched! To live.

This blog is managed and written by Summer Shine aka Victory Chic. The opinions herein are endorsed solely by Summer and are not the opinion of any of the affiliates mentioned…so don’t go getting all crazy with anyone else. Don’t like what’s being said? UNSUBSCRIBE. Love ya!

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We All Have Victory

We all have Victory

I am a Christian woman. I love the Lord with my whole heart. I try to set my intentions on Him daily and sometimes that looks like a constant asking and praying, “God, you’re really making me mad here, I want MY way, can’t you just give me this one thing.”

Over the last year I have struggled greatly with depression, addiction, filling God sized holes in my soul with guys and just outright disobedience. I was brought to my knees a few weeks ago and out of shear fear, turned my face BACK to God and asked Him to allow me back in.

His answer, “You were never out. You were just seeking other solutions to a problem that only I can fix.” Wow!!! Somewhere deep inside I knew this. I had heard and at one time had believed that it is not God who turns away from us, but us who turn away from Him. But this time was different. I thought that I had run too far, that I had crossed that invisible line that turns you away for good. That I somehow was dirtier than Saul. That the murdering I had done was unforgivable and that God had every right to reject me.

Man had ultimately rejected me. My husband, whom I thought would never give up on me, had resolved to end our marriage. My very good friend whom I thought would always be around had quit taking my calls. My sponsor wasn’t begging me to come back to the 12-step group I ascribed to. My pastor had called, but was now praying silently. My son didn’t want to hear it and I had pissed my mom off for the last time. No one wanted to have a thing to do with me…I didn’t want to have a thing to do with me either. I was hopeless. Or was I?

Through a series of events and accidents, I ended up here, in Victoria, TX. Who’s crazy idea was this and why did I agree to it. I was obviously out of my mind. When I heard the stories later I was much more out of my mind than originally thought. The devil’s minions were my constant companions and I had only been safe on the few occasions that I found myself in the presence of a few angels. God hired and awe inspired angels. I still thank God that they were around.

Through prayer and meditation I continued to hear that I was to rest. Rest. Rest. I was told over and over, as were several others who continued to pray for me that my next step was to STOP. Sit still. Be quiet. Wait on the Lord.

Say what? Who does that? Certainly NOT me. I am a mover and a shaker. I get stuff done, dang it! I don’t stop. I prevent others from stopping as well. I am a motivator! I haven’t sat still a day in my life. Still is for people who are retired or have the luxury of vacation. Sitting still is a joke anyway. How do you get stuff done if you’re being still? Hello!!!! This whole quiet thing amused me too. Are. You. Serious? I started forming clear and legible words when I was 9 months old and I hadn’t let up much since then…not even in my sleep. I was sure that everyone else needed to hear what I had to say. I loved what I had to say! And wait on the Lord. What exactly did you think I had been doing all that time? I was waiting on God all right. I was waiting on him to kick door at that last motel room. I was waiting for him to come walking in that door and say, “Summer, this is not what I have for you. This is not you. This is not the end to your story. Now get up and let’s go. And how dare you folks for holding her back from her destiny.” As he pointed that condemning finger around the room to the others whose fault it was that I was there.

He did eventually say those things to me but not in the way I foresaw in my limited human brain. I imagine things in such a way that it limits God from fulfilling his greatness. I restrict Him by saying; “Give me this exact thing, exactly how I have asked for it, exactly in my timing.” He answers those prayers from time to time and I realize that I could’ve had better had I just waited for what He had for me.

So, yes, still, quiet, waiting, I came to Ol’ Vic-town, as I have lovingly called it, or Hicktoria as a new association dubbed in via text today. Here I am God…GO! I haven’t exactly had the easiest time. The first responder in me says that I can figure this out, so RUN!!!!! But I haven’t. I have sat. It’s the most uncomfortable thing I have ever done in my life. It feels like dieing. A dear friend of mine, the lady who drove me here actually, told me that I am dieing. Dieing to myself. Harsh! I was so cool…or was I? I was really good at messing everything up. I was really good at failure. I was really good at picking just the wrong time to screw up. I was good at blotting out the bain of my miserable existence. I was good at running. Running hard, running fast and running straight into some really scary circumstances. I can never add the word “long” to that list because I run so hard that the road always wins. The ROAD always beat me down.

This road beating brought me here. Sitting, waiting…palms up, waiting to receive. The biggest gift I have received is Mercy, because believe me, I did not get what I deserved. I deserve 10 to life. I deserved to die when I ran my car into that tree. I deserved to have my neck slit wide open when I called on strangers to guide me. I deserve HELL, but God was waiting. Arms wide open to accept me back into His Glory.

October is BIRTH-MONTH!!!!! If you know me well, you know that I am all about birthdays. I am all about the gifts and attention that comes along with birthdays. I am all about me. This year I want to switch things up. I want to give-up, give-in and give-away. Let’s do this together. One of my weak areas is the way I treat my body when I get sober. It is an affliction that I carry with me from the streets and just don’t let go of. I believe that God has called us to live holistically in His light. I think He wants us to be balanced and whole.

That starts with a relationship with Him. I believe that Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life. You do NOT have to have the same beliefs as me to enjoy this blog or to participate. As a matter of fact, if you don’t believe, I welcome you with a true desire for you to get the same kind of benefit as any believer here. I do however, only feel like you will receive FULL benefit from this program if you have an idea of who your higher being or higher power is. If you are under the impression that you are the ultimate authority in your life, then there isn’t a thing that I or anyone else for that matter can help you with. If you are your ultimate authority, then go get with you. Sorry to be blunt…actually, no I’m not! Just know that I am going to be talking a lot about God, you just fill in your perception. I want this time together to be all-inclusive, not exclusive at all. What help are we really if we are just trying to meet ourselves or people who believe just as we do.

Now for you Christian readers. I will probably offend you more than I offend the non-believers. I feel that we were called to two things in life, “Love God with all of your mind, body and strength and love others as you love yourself.” This means that we love God first, then out of that Love we learn to love ourselves and ultimately love others. I do NOT ascribe to many laws or traditions. I love God and am working on loving myself so that I can love others as I love myself. Until I reach that goal I have very little to offer anyone else and am actually doing a disservice to everyone around me. So please, don’t ask me how I feel about abortion or about the president or about prostitutes. You may not like my answer and I wouldn’t want this to be a place of anger. Can’t we all just get along???

With that being said, WELCOME!!! I am so glad that you have taken the time to read this and hope that you are looking for some of the same things I am.

On October 1, 2013 I am going to start a blog focused on joining the mind, body, spirit and social life together to better obey Him, Love myself and serve others out of that love. Join me won’t ya! Let’s journey together!!

I will write each day touching on each of these subjects. I will do this daily writing only through October…my birth month as a gift to you and myself. If I think I am giving it to others, then I might just follow it myself. Tomorrow’s blog will be on “Getting Started.” Then Hopefully on Tuesday we can start this thing together with a good cleanse of the mind, body, spirit and social life!

Just so we are all on the same page here are the definitions of each of these topics:

Mind – the element, part, substance, or process that reasons, thinks, feels, wills, perceives, judges, etc.

Body – the physical structure and material substance of a human. (for our purposes)

Spirit – A supernatural, incorporeal being, especially one inhabiting a human (for our purposes) or having a particular character.

Social – living or disposed to live in companionship with others or in a community, rather than in isolation.

Life – the sum of distinguishing phenomena of organisms, especially metabolism, growth, reproduction, and adaptation to environment.

With that being said, let’s start and enjoy this journey together. It is shown that a load carried together is lighter than that which is carried by one. Please feel free to add your own insight and progress. I would love to hear the Glory that surely we shall all find in treating ourselves holistically.

Palms up. Minds open. Hearts receiving. Others touched! To live.

This blog is managed and written by Summer Shine aka Victory Chic. The opinions herein are endorsed solely by Summer and are not the opinion of any of the affiliates mentioned…so don’t go getting all crazy with anyone else. Don’t like what’s being said? UNSUBSCRIBE. Love ya!

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