Shattered Magazine Preview

Hope in the Darkest Hours

November 2012

Soul-deep Comfort Seeking Healing and Strength our Father 1

N O V E M B E R

“Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you.”

[Matthew 7:7, NLT]

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SHATTERED Magazine

from the

Editor T

his month begins the celebration season – a time for indulging in sensational food, reconnecting with family and friends, making heart-warming memories, and remembering the blessings in life. At least, that is what it is about for some. Others might find this time of year a stark reminder of their loss, loneliness, and struggles.

Grief, sadness, and pain do not know that they are supposed to take a vacation starting November 1st.

They are not discriminatory against whom they will visit or considerate as to when a good time would be. These emotions can leave us hollow throughout the year and downright depressed and hopeless during the holidays.

As tough as the holidays can be for some, there is great cause for hope and celebration during this special season, despite the tough times. I, myself, have learned this valuable lesson over the past few years.

I used to get wrapped up in the thoughts of what I did not have, who I missed, and why I just could not enjoy the season to its fullest. I got so caught up in what the world was telling me the holidays were all about that I found myself in a “wash-rinse-repeat” cycle of “want this-need that-miss him.” With every commercial that came on TV highlighting the perfect happy family surrounding a gorgeous tree full of presents or gathered around a table with bounty galore, smiles plastered on every face, and no troubles in sight, I longed to be in their shoes. As commonplace as it is to see the holidays in this manner, that is not the original version of holiday commercials that might have been cast on TV for Thanksgiving or Christmas.

Rather, the scenes for the first Thanksgiving holiday

would have been the surviving Pilgrims (half of who had made the original journey) and the helpful Indians sitting around a feast of fowl, vegetables, and corn products. They had no earthly possessions to really call their own, and they had lost half of their loved ones, but they gathered in thankfulness that they had survived thus far. They found simple joy and satisfaction in just being successful in their first harvest – a far cry from financial gain, fortune, or stability.

The scenes during the first Christmas season might have been even more subdued. Picture the dire straits of a nation under a tyrannical rule that left them longing for freedom as their lives were uncertain and subject to the whim of a harsh and diabolical ruler, King Herod.

Yet, there was great celebration with the news of the birth of a new King. The celebration was of those held captive by their oppressors, rejoicing at the hope of release – the hope in a baby Jesus.

This season, our tendency might be to get tunnel vision and focus in on what holds us captive, but the truth is that we can all join in the celebration during this meaningful time of year – no matter our circumstances.

Like the celebrations of the first Thanksgiving and Christmas, we can shift our focus to what we do have and the hope of freedom from our oppression thanks to our King, the same baby Jesus.

We welcome you to Shattered Magazine and pray that you will find the focus in life that will free you to live joyfully – no matter life’s circumstances.

Blessings,

November 2012 3

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

[Jeremiah 29:13, NIV]

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SHATTERED Magazine

On the Inside

C O N T R I B U T E R S www.shatteredmagazine.net

EDITORS

Rachael Jackson Deana Nunley Corley Parker Doris Riccelli

10 6 My Comfort and Strength 10 Father Knows Best 13 Turtle Eggs Amongst Us 14 Out of Iraq 16 Out of the Darkness 19 Rescued Damsel 24 No Longer an Asset 26 The Real To-Do List 28 Praying with Crossed Fingers 31 Moving Mountains of Doubt 34 Listening to that Little Voice 36 The Little Imperfections Coming in December: Hope in the Holidays Join us next month as Shattered Magazine continues to discover where our hope, comfort, and joy truly come from -- even in the darkest hours.

WRITERS

Jessica Chenoweth Rachael Jackson Deana Nunley Cindi Gibson Palma Corley Parker Doris Riccelli Shelley Snitko DESIGNER

Andrea Wilhelm PHOTOGRAPHERS

Morgan Knight Patti Weldon WEBSITE

Lee Dannelly Scott Pavlovec

SHATTERED’S Purpose

The mission of Shattered Magazine is to reveal the power of God and give Him glory through the personal stories of those who have overcome strife and been redeemed by His goodness and grace. We are dedicated to preparing, strengthening, and encouraging others to conquer all things through Jesus Christ so they can have hope and experience the true peace and joy that only comes from the Lord.

November 2012 5

Photos for this article provided by: Doris Riccelli

My Comfort and Strength shared by

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Doris Riccelli

M

y heart felt like a knife had sliced right through the middle of it that cold day in February when my mom called to tell me the results of her mammogram. I could hear her voice quivering when she said the doctor wanted her to see a surgeon right away. The report showed the lump in her left breast was suspicious for cancer.

Two weeks later I sat waiting in the hospital as she underwent a lumpectomy and axillary node dissection. The following week the pathology report confirmed stage 3 breast cancer with 3 positive lymph nodes. At age 57, with no family history of breast cancer, my mom began her battle to survive.

It would be a journey that would forever change my life.

I was only 23 at the time and believed that I was too young to even think about losing my mom. I needed her in my life.

There were still so many things we had left to do together. If she died now, who would I call when I needed to ask how to make a family-favorite recipe? Who would I go shopping with to look for sales and bargains? Who would be a grandma to my future children? I just wasn’t ready to say good-bye, but I also wasn’t prepared to watch her go through the misery that she did. The burns on her chest and back from the radiation treatments, the upset stomach and nausea from the chemotherapy, and the fatigue and restlessness from the exhaustion of it all broke my heart. I hated to see the lady I loved more than anyone else in the world – my mommy – struggle and suffer as she fought such a dreadful disease.

Being the strong and courageous woman she was, she fought with everything she had, and never did she complain about the agony of her experience. Instead, she focused on appreciating the simple things in life like watching a robin pull a worm from the ground and listening to the sound of crickets chirping on a warm summer night. She taught me to appreciate some of the things that so many of us take for granted.

Just as my mom was in the middle of her treatments, I began to have my own battle of a different nature. One dreary Sunday morning in January I had to leave church before the sermon had even begun. The worship service alone had caused me to cry uncontrollably. Whether it was mourning, depression, or hormones, all I wanted was to be comforted by my mom. I drove directly to my parents’ house. They were surprised to see me when I arrived.

As I sat down on the living room couch, tears gushed from my eyes. I was overwhelmed with everything that I was dealing with. My mom was in the midst of her chemotherapy and was battling for her life, and I had just experienced my second miscarriage in six months and was suffering from emptiness, sadness, and the fear of the unknown. Although I had faith in God, there were still many questions running through my mind. Would my mom beat the breast cancer? Would I have another miscarriage? Would I ever be a mother?

This page: Four Generations at the home of Doris Benic on Woodbine Avenue in East Liverpool, Ohio: Great-Grandma (Doris) Benic (75), Grandma (Nana Mary) Chan (59), Mom (Doris Riccelli) (26), and Britney Lyn Davis (6 wks.) on June 10, 1988. Opposite page: Doris’s mom Mary at Acadia National Park.

Although deep down I wanted to be strong for my mom because I felt she needed me to, I really wanted to be a little girl again and have my mommy hold me and say that everything was going to be alright. I could see the anguish on her face, but I didn’t know if she was more fatigued from the chemotherapy or from being concerned about the hurt her only daughter was experiencing. As she wrapped her arms around me, I felt safe. She truly was the wind beneath my wings, and she just knew what I longed for when I was hurting. She was the perfect mother – always putting her children before herself, caring about their needs more than her own. She was fighting for her life, and yet she wanted to comfort me in my time of hurt and despair. That day will forever be embedded in my mind as we sat together and hugged one another, each of us carrying not only our own pain but that of the other as well.

After 8 weeks of radiation and 12 months of chemotherapy, my mom was finally done with her breast cancer treatments in the fall of 1987. She was tired of being stuck with needles and was more than ready to move on with life. And move on she did! It took some time for her to gain back her strength, but once she did she felt like she had a new lease on life.

There was a lot to be excited about. Not only had my mom been given a clean bill of health, but I was pregnant again, and this time the baby was doing just fine.

Throughout the winter months, my mom and I would go on day-long shopping trips and spend hours looking for special items for the baby. She would tell me stories of when I was a little girl, and we would laugh about some of the silly things I had done. I would ask her questions about her childhood, and for the first time she revealed her wild side. I was astonished at some of the things she would tell me. I guess I had never really thought of my mom as anything other than “my  November 2012 7

mom.” Now I saw her as more than that. I realized she was more than just a mom – she was a woman – a real person who had once been a teenager and had done teenager stuff.

As time went on, I sensed a change in our relationship. I was no longer just my mother’s daughter. I now was her friend – her best friend, and she was mine. As the years passed, our friendship grew ever so much stronger. We did everything together – from baking Christmas cookies to planting spring flowers to hanging wallpaper to traveling throughout the country. I never grew tired of spending time with her. She was the type of person people wanted to be around. She knew how to accept people for just who they were. She loved being a grandmother, and my daughter loved her Nana Mary. I knew how blessed I was to have such a wonderful mother, and I told God how appreciative I was.

It was like God had given us a bit of Heaven at just that moment and I had the privilege of sharing it with my mom.

Ten years passed and my mom remained relatively healthy.

But then . . . like a thief in the night – our joy was robbed.

It was a diagnosis like none other. It was the diagnosis that would lead to the end.

The Friday before Mother’s Day, I sat in my office at work wondering why my mom had not called me like she typically did after she went for her check-ups. She knew how anxious I always was to hear what the doctor had to say, but for some reason my phone just didn’t ring. Rather than wait, I called her. From the moment she answered I knew that something wasn’t right. She seemed upset. My mind raced with thoughts.

I was especially concerned because she had been battling lymphedema in her arm over the past two years, which stemmed from the breast cancer surgery and radiation treatments she had received a decade earlier. What began as a tingling and numbness in her hand eventually worked its way up until it enveloped her entire arm. The extreme swelling and nerve damage caused her excruciating pain.

As I held the phone to my ear, I expected my mom to tell me something relative to that particular situation. I was blindsided when she said that she had been diagnosed with leukemia. I was speechless. I was numb. I was heartsick.

I could hear trembling in my mom’s voice as she told me that she didn’t call because she didn’t want to upset me while I 8

SHATTERED Magazine

was at work. That was so like my mother. Even in the midst of her distress, she was more concerned about me than herself.

We agreed that she would share all the details when she saw me. After I hung up the phone, I sat at my desk and stared out the window. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I felt like I had just been hit by a semi-truck. I gasped to breathe as the thoughts ran through my mind . . . this could very well be the last Mother’s Day I would get to spend with my wonderful mommy. Life as we had known it could be over.

I headed straight to my parents’ place immediately after work. They had moved a few years earlier from the house where my brothers and I were raised to an apartment located just six doors down from where I lived. As I sat down at the dining room table, my mom began to tell me what the doctor had said. She seemed calmer now, which helped me to relax.

She explained that the blood tests showed she had myelodysplasia syndrome, a pre-leukemia, and in her case it was caused by the chemotherapy treatments she had received when she had breast cancer. The doctor told her that the disease would cause anemia to develop, and she would need to get frequent blood transfusions to replace the blood cells and platelets that would continuously be destroyed.

After listening to her tell me everything the doctor had said I felt somewhat better. I began to think that maybe she had a chance to fight the disease; however, deep down inside I still wondered if in fact this was the beginning of the end.

When I left the apartment that evening, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I was going to take my mom on a trip . . . a trip to her favorite place on earth – Acadia National Park near Bar Harbor, Maine. She and I had been there in the fall of 1986, and she always said that she wanted to go back.

She loved it there. She had constantly talked about how she enjoyed hearing the waves beat against the rocky shoreline.

Within days I had everything planned, and we set off in mid-June for New England. Never will I forget the sparkle in her beautiful blue eyes as she looked out over the ocean while standing on the rugged cliffs of Acadia. It was like God had given us a bit of Heaven at just that moment and I had the privilege of sharing it with my mom. I soaked in every minute. As I watched her stare at the ocean’s water, I knew that in the midst of all she was going through, she had found peace. It was a peace that could come only from the Lord.

My mommy was at a place where she could rest not only her tired body, but her spirit as well. Forever will the thrashing water hitting against the jagged rocks of Acadia be special to me.

Join us in December for this story’s conclusion as Doris shares her mother’s passing, her journey of healing, and how her joy of the holidays was restored.

“

And let the peace which comes) as

umpire

hearts

(soul

harmony

from Christ rule continually)

(act

in your

[deciding and settling with

finality all questions that arise in

your minds, in that peaceful state]

to which as

[members of Christ’s]

one body you were also called live].

And be thankful

[giving

praise

to

(appreciative)

God

[Collosians 3: 15, AMP]

Photo Credit: Patti Weldon

[to

always]

,

.

”

November 2012 9

subscr Father

Knows by

Rachael Jackson

H

ow do we see God? Do we see Him as an austere, self-righteous being who sits on His throne looking to smite those who stray off the straight and narrow path? Or do we see Him as a powerhungry dictator with no concern for our feelings or questions?

Perhaps instead we view God as a personal genie-in-a bottle that can be manipulated into giving us what we desire? In order to come to a fulfilling relationship and deeper understanding of who God actually is to us, it is important to realize that God is actually our Father, ready and willing to walk through this life with us—preparing us, teaching us, guiding us, and most importantly loving us.

At times you may feel like God is distant and your connection with Him is tenuous at best. Your prayers go unanswered only further alienating you from your loving Father. That is why your view of God is so important to understand. It shapes your relationship with Him and that relationship is the most important relationship you will ever have. ďƒœ

10 SHATTERED Magazine

Photo Credit: Hung the Moon Photography by Morgan Knight

Best

The Lord said over and over throughout the Bible that we are His children and He is our Father. It is a constant and reoccurring theme that was meant to reassure us of the status we hold in His heart. As our Father, we are able to approach Him with boldness, much as we would approach our own earthly father or as we would allow our children to approach us. When our children have questions, as a loving parent we generally take the time to answer them to the best of our ability. Yes, there are times when we may get frustrated by a million questions or our inability to answer them correctly due to our own lack of knowledge, but replace us (fallible humans) with God (completely infallible and all knowledgeable) and you have the perfect Father-child relationship.

“Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him?” (Matthew 7:9-11).

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This passage is talking about more than just physical gifts or things that we think we need or want in life. The Lord promises us good gifts, but He does not promise us whatever we want. As our Father, He is there to answer us, to provide us with love and support, and to give us that which we seek and ask for – in accordance with His will and providence.

Jesus, in His teachings while on earth, was very consistent in getting to the heart of the matter. When people approached Him with genuine questions and humbled hearts, truly seeking His counsel and wisdom, He always answered. When people, specifically Pharisees or rich young rulers, questioned Him out of a sense of arrogance or pre-conceived answers unwilling to be changed, they did not receive the answers that they wanted.

“For though the LORD is exalted, Yet He regards the lowly, But the haughty He knows from afar” (Psalm 138:6).

In addition to the attitude of our hearts, we need to ensure that our hearts are tuned into God when we approach Him. The process of tuning into God involves several things including reading scripture, spending quality time in prayer (not only talking, but taking the time to listen to His replies), quiet time, and reflection. There are many Bible verses referring to being still in front of God, taking time to be quiet with Him, drawing near to Him, and hiding the Word in our hearts. If we are constantly bombarding our ears, eyes, hearts, and soul with music, TV, work, books, school, etc., we generally won’t be able to hear Him above the noise.

"Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him?”"

Perhaps one of the greatest ways He answers our questions or provides us guidance is through discussion and sharing [Matthew 7:9-11] with fellow believers and followers of Christ. The Bible tells us in Proverbs 27:17 that “as iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens As earthly parents, we know that there are concepts beyond another.” This in one of the reasons it is important to be our children’s capability to understand or even grasp at given involved with a church that believes in and preaches the Bible times. There may be things that they want that just would not and to walk through life with other believers in a sense of be good for them – or maybe, we even want much better for community. Together, we are stronger than when we are them than what they ask. As human parents, we know much alone. better than our children, how much more so should we trust Him, the Omniscient and All-Knowing, that just as we would God is our Heavenly Father – He cares about our issues and give our best to our children keeping in mind their welfare, He concerns, as well as our questions and doubts. He is faithful does the same, and more, for us. to answer if we will trust Him and listen. Just as with the tantrums of a child, too young to understand the complexities “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock of life and adapt to its demands, our Father will let us rage and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks and question Him with the appropriate level of respect due receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, Him. However, there must come a time when we stop raging the door will be opened” (Matthew 7:7-8). and start listening – when we hear Him, we can start to grow wise. What is your view of Him? Hopefully, you know that He When we feel like we don’t get anywhere with God and when is not a distant God. He is a loving Father close by. we ask questions or pray for what we want, it is important to look at the motivation behind those questions or prayers.

November 2012 11

Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart.

Psalm 63: 1-4 (NLT) 12

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Photo Credit: Patti Weldon

Photo Credit: Rachael Jackson

[Psalm 37:4, NIV]

Photo Credit: U.S. Air Force Photo/Lance Cheung

Turtle Eggs Amongst Us

by Jessica

Chenoweth

I

walked out on the deck with a blueberry muffin and a cup of mocha flavored coffee. It was the second day of our extended family beach vacation and I found the sound of the waves to be very soothing. As I soaked in the peaceful morning scene, I noticed our vacation neighbor briskly walking back from her morning jaunt on the beach. She had a childlike look of wonder on her face.

She quickly ascended the stairs to our shared deck and wished me a good morning. I smiled back, but before I could return her greeting she proceeded to inform me of the exciting news that had taken place on the very stretch of beach we were all enjoying. My eyes followed to where her finger was pointing and then I saw the squared off section of sand to which she was referring.

A mother turtle had crawled up on the beach during the night and buried her precious eggs in the sand.

Unfortunately the nesting spot she had chosen was right between two beach chairs that posed a hazard to the unhatched young. A local turtle preservation team had carefully relocated her eggs to safer ground and roped off the area so the eggs could peacefully hatch.

It was important to still keep the eggs relatively close to the water so that when it was time for the eggs to

hatch, the babies would be able to make their return voyage back to the ocean. The turtle preservation team had explained to the lady that their mission is to scour the beach at night to keep watch of where mother turtles lay their eggs since they are oblivious to the beach hazards surrounding them. Moving the eggs helped to ensure their survival by preventing the trampling destruction caused by unassuming and unaware beach vacationers.

As I pondered her story, it crossed my mind how peoples’ hearts are fragile much like those baby turtle eggs. I wonder how many souls we trample on never knowing they were even there. I am sure we come across them every day. People that look just like you and me. They are in our churches, they live next door, they are in our grocery stores or places of work and many times we are unaware of their pain. We are oblivious to their needs. We do not see the hurt behind their smiles.

Jesus, while on this earth, daily searched for those in need. He wanted to heal the broken heart of the woman at the well. He understood the agony of the woman caught in adultery. He recognized the desperation of the woman who had touched the hem of His robe knowing she would be healed from her lengthy illness. Jesus realized, that just like the rescuers of those fragile turtle eggs, that without His intervention, these people’s lives would be destroyed – they would be left hopeless.

We are called to be like Jesus. We need to pray and ask God to reveal to us those that may be suffering in our midst. We must not become so caught up in the busyness of our own lives that we become callous to the needs of those around us. When we see someone struggling, we need to band together and create a protective barrier around them, unwilling to sit back and watch as their lives unravel. To dispel the darkness, we must reflect God’s light.

November 2012 13

Continued from “Stuck in Iraq With No Diagnosis” from the October 2012 Issue

}

shared by

Rachael Jackson

Out of Iraq and free to live again

subscr Rachael Jackson with husband Shane and children Aaron and Ava.

F

ibromyalgia caused the sudden end of my Army career as an attack helicopter pilot, leaving me shattered and feeling completely out of place.

Upon returning home from Iraq and in the pursuit of a diagnosis, which was a seemingly unending process of specialist appointments and wait times in between tests and results, I found myself slipping into a dark pit where I was surrounded by almost life-like emotions of anger, depression, and anxiety. The “wait and see” period of my life, with no foreseeable conclusion, left me feeling desperate for answers. I wanted to know what God was doing and how it was all going to end up. However, the answers were not forthcoming, and in a world where I had had total control, or so I thought, I lost all control. Learning to “let go and let God” was the hardest application of a cliché that I had ever had in my life.

Anyone who now knows my generally easy-going disposition of today would never guess that I struggled with extreme anger. It started in Iraq, and after I arrived home it began to consume me. I was angry that I had been treated as a liar when my health deteriorated; angry that no one believed me; angry at my own weakness; and angry at the uncertainty of my future. I was so angry that my temper could not be controlled – so much so that a ridiculous event at the Dallas International Airport over a silly tube of lipstick almost resulted in my arrest.

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Ignorant to the TSA demands for plastic baggies to hold any source of liquid within the specific quantity limit, I was not prepared for the new security processes when I was traveling to see my best friend in Oklahoma. I found the resulting confiscation of my lowly lipstick ludicrous, and I let them know about it. I mouthed off, went through the screening area in a very disgruntled manner, and then grabbed it out of the confiscation bin on the other side of the screening area.

I can still hear the shrill voice of the TSA agent shrieking at me, “Ma’am! Ma’am! You can’t do that! Bring that back here!” As two agents headed toward me and against my inclination to fight them all, I humbly put the lipstick back in the container and quickly escaped to the nearest restroom. I had lost it, and I knew I needed help. I sought refuge in the nearest and cleanest stall. With tears streaming down my face, I called the counselor that the Army had assigned me.

It was the beginning step to my healing journey. I realized my need for help, and I admitted it.

The healing process was slow. I faced a period of depression unlike anything I ever thought I would. Without a doubt, it was the lowest period of my life. Nothing I had planned worked out like I wanted. I was being crushed by the weight of the world. My identity as a successful Apache pilot and West Point graduate was being broken and the process was very painful. My pride, my health, and my job were destroyed.

My family was not something I leaned on. I had no friends

who lived close to me. I was single–something I strongly desired to change. There were days I didn’t even want to get out of bed or leave the house. I would cry at any given moment. I would literally be crumpled up on my bedroom floor with my face to the ground in emotional agony so real that it felt like an unwelcomed physical companion. My heart was broken under destroyed dreams and unfulfilled desires.

It was in those hours of struggle and emotional release that I started to hear God. I’m sure He had been there the whole time, but I began to listen when I was on that floor.

“Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

As difficult as it was, upon reflection, this period of waiting and listening helped me in so many ways. I felt the presence of God like I never had before. He was there. He was asking me to wait on Him and to trust Him. Through my helplessness, He helped me to understand that I am really not in control and that I don’t need to be either. After all, even when things were in my “control,” I had found myself empty and my desiring different.

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The breaking and rebuilding process in my life proved a bittersweet time of dependence on Christ. I never needed Him more than when I would find myself face down on my bedroom floor – crying in despair, wondering what else could I take and if He even heard me. The bitterness was the pain in my heart, but the sweetness was how He was always faithful to meet me there. I could literally feel Him in my life like never before. As I asked Him “why” and “how long,” He patiently responded and reassured me time and time again. Whether it was a Bible verse that came to mind, a friend sending me an encouraging letter or phone call, a chance to just look at a sunset, or the simple and pure joy of a best friend who was such a Godly woman encouraging and uplifting me – He was always there for me to feel His presence. There are times today that I actually miss the closeness I felt with the Lord during that period.

Christ was also good to me in very practical matters during that time. He provided me amazing doctors who would stand up to those who doubted me. They supported me, believed in me, and helped me start to understand what my new life would be like with fibromyalgia.

The Army had a mandatory six-week training course that fibromyalgia patients were forced to take, and this proved an invaluable asset to help me learn about my disease and how to take care of myself. I learned that the key to LIVING with fibromyalgia was balancing out my nervous system. I needed to ensure that I had more positive endorphins rushing through my body than negative stuff.

Sleep, eating well, and exercise was the ticket for me. Due to my mother’s prescription pill addiction, I had decided long ago that I would never want to become dependent on pills to help me feel better, but I also learned about the necessity of a “helping-hand.” I learned that if I started to feel pain, I

needed to take a pain reliever and possibly something to help me sleep. However, the pills were just a “spare tire” of sorts and not meant as a permanent fixture.

I learned that the minute my skin began to hurt against my clothes, I needed to go for a walk in the fresh air, drink a lot of water, and start eating better food again. I changed my lifestyle to incorporate easy exercise, a lot of sleep, and a very nutritious diet where I learned to eat a lot of whole foods. I cut out processed foods, fake sugars, and partially hydrogenated oils. I began walking. I instituted a sleep regimen. I physically began to recover. The “fibro fog” began to lift, and I started to see a normal, active life as a possibility again.

Throughout the whole process, God taught me about myself and about Him. He taught me how to come to Him, lean on Him, give Him the glory for everything, and how to trust Him to work all things out. In losing my control and slipping into depression, He also taught me how to have compassion for other people – to not judge others because I haven’t walked in their shoes. I learned that you never know what is behind someone’s image. No matter what they look like, there is more than meets the eye.

Empathy is the key to effectively sharing Christ. I didn’t have that before. I had to learn to trust that God has a plan and a reason for everything. When I can’t see the picture that He’s painting, I’ve learned to step back and wait on Him. There is a bigger meaning for my life than just the job I am in, the disease I suffer from, or the circumstances I get stuck in, and I’m learning day-by-day to let Him bring it to fruition.

November 2012 15

Out of the Darkness shared by

Corley Parker

16 SHATTERED Magazine

I

n my bedroom’s cramped closet, huddled in a tight ball with my arms wrapped around my legs, I sit very quietly and listen.

My ears are on alert for any sounds that might forewarn me of an intrusion. My heart races, and my pulse quickens. I begin to feel sick. The feeling of sickness is not anything new. I begin to tremble and perspire. The nausea starts to overwhelm me. I cannot move from my position. I have to stay hidden in my almost fetal position for my own safety. My mind begins to scream, “Help! Please, Mommy and Daddy, please, someone help me!” I begin to cry and shake. Then, I hear it. A knock. What if I forgot to lock my door? Has someone discovered my hiding place? Has he discovered my hiding place? I begin to panic. I am being swallowed up in the fear of discovery. I start gasping for air. I grab my throat crying with the terror. Then suddenly . . . I wake up.

It takes me several minutes to reorient myself with reality.

I am no longer that little girl hiding in a closet. I am grown.

I am a wife and mother. I wipe the tears from my eyes. I take a deep breath because frankly the feeling of suffocation, although only in my dream, is still with me.

I take a deeper breath, exhale, and shudder. I tell myself that it is only a dream–a nightmare.

However, the brutal truth is that the nightmare I awoke from is an ugly memory from my childhood.

together in my mother’s womb” (Psalm 139:13). He decided which family I would be born in to. He knew “. . . the days that were formed for me . . .” (Psalm 139:16b). He knew the abuse I would suffer. Even before I hid in my bedroom’s closet, God already heard my cry for help and “. . . my cry to Him reached his ears” (Psalm 18:6). Yet, the Lord in His great wisdom allowed my suffering.

Why would I trust Someone who allowed such terrible trials and pain in my life? As a woman who has walked through the fire and has come out of it burned and scarred, I can, without a doubt, trust that God has reasons to allow pain and suffering in our lives. A former pastor of mine told me years ago when I shared my childhood abuse with him that God NEVER allows suffering without a plan to redeem that suffering. Before I was born, God saw all my pain and fear before it ever happened and knew the insecurities ten years of abuse would create. However, God also saw the redemption of all those hurts, fears, and trials. He had “plans for my welfare and not for evil, to give [me] a future and a hope. Then [I] will call upon [Him] and come and pray to [Him], and [He] will hear [me]” (Jeremiah 29:11-12).

Then I will call

upon Him and come and pray to Him, and

My life is not about childhood abuse and the aftermath of that cruelty. My life is about surviving, healing, and learning how to forgive such atrocities.

My life is about praising, honoring, and glorifying the One who sees my pain, heals my pain, and gives me new Hope. God provides that hope in the form of His One and Only Son, Jesus Christ. I am reminded of a great hymn, The Solid Rock, which imparts soul-wrenching truth into me, “My hope is built on nothing less, Than Jesus’s blood and righteousness . . . When all around my soul gives way, He then is all my hope and stay.”

He will hear me.

Jeremiah 29:12

I have very distinct memories– spending nights with my paternal grandmother, my cousins dressing me up in a homemade costume for Halloween, playing with my Wonder Woman doll, going to Sunday School and Vacation Bible School, and sexual abuse.

I want to say that the good memories prevail over the bad memories; however, in all honesty, I cannot say that. What I can say is that all those bad memories – from the loss of innocence as a little girl too young to even know what was happening to her to the sickening dread of an adolescent girl scared to death that others would hate her if and when they found out what “she” was – and the events that spawned those sickening memories helped to form the woman I am today.

I am a survivor. I am a champion of those who have been hurt by those they trusted to protect them. Most of all, I am a woman of deep faith and abiding love for the One who never took His eyes off of me, even when I thought that I, along with my abuse, could not be seen. I speak of God; Creator of life, death, and everything in between.

He is Holy and Righteous. He is the One who “knitted me

The childhood abuse that I suffered at the hands my sibling and those he chose to share me with continued from preschool age until I was about 14. I cannot tell you how I managed to get through those years other than and with certainty the hand of God held me. I did not receive any help from my parents, family, or friends, because no one knew about the abuse. I always felt alone in the isolation of my abuse. Yet, I never was alone, not really. God was with me.

He sustained me.

When I locked myself in my bedroom, when I locked my bedroom window from fear of my sibling finding a way in my bedroom, and even when I had thoughts of ending the misery of the life I found myself living, I was never alone.  November 2012 17

Out of the Darkness Con’t

When I would look into the mirror with tears running down my face and a razorblade in my left hand suspended over my right wrist, all I could see was ugliness and self-hatred from ashes left over from the burning and scorching fire of abuse. Yet, I was never alone. God was with me and He stayed my hand and did not allow me to swipe the blade over my wrist to sever the artery, which would have caused me to bleed to death.

Why did God not allow me to kill myself? For years, I had been bleeding to death inside. I only wanted to release the flow of pain that was slowly killing me from the inside out. Yet, God saw the beauty within my ashes of suffering and pain.

God speaks in the Bible of His desire to redeem the broken heartedness of His children. In Isaiah 61, God wants to give the brokenhearted “beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they [the brokenhearted] might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified.”

God redeems our pain, our broken heartedness, and our suffering so that we might “encourage the fainthearted” (1 Thessalonians 5:14) so “that their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ” (Colossians 2:2).

It took me over 25 years to figure out why I was abused as a child and adolescent. The reason does not make the nightmares any easier or the truth of the ugliness and horror of abuse any easier to carry. If by sharing my deepest, darkest hurts and by allowing the scars from years of abuse to be recounted, one person understands that they are not alone in their prison of pain and that there is a God that loves them immeasurably and wants to heal their pain through the saving power, unmerited grace, and redemptive-filled blood of His Son, Jesus Christ, then all has not been in vain.

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“My hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus’ blood and righteousness…when all around my soul gives way, he then is all my hope and stay.”

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Continued from “When Your Knight Falls Off His Horse” from the October 2012 Issue

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he rains came, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash” (Matthew 7:27). It was 1993 and ten years after Chris and I were married. The storms of life intensified and created such a disturbance that life came crashing in around us. It is here when the damsel collapsed and the white flag was raised in defeat.

Photo Credit: Hung the Moon Photography by Morgan Knight

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How does one lose everything that is safe and secure in their life without any warning and in only a moment? Why would God continue to allow these trials in my life? Why me? Hadn’t I been through enough already? My mom was gone. My husband was cheating again, only this time I was losing him to the other woman. Would I always be a victim–unable to escape? This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. What about the fairytale and the promise of “until death do us part”?

It was in my brokenness that I came to a crossroads. Shattered, I was involuntarily forced to slow down long enough to evaluate my life. In the midst of my weakness and pain, I grieved my losses and wondered why. I nursed my wounds, expressed my anger, and tried to make sense out of the chaos. I realized that human effort alone could not control my circumstances, the effects of disease, or the choices made by others. I began to discover that being busy did not serve as a purpose but had merely become a preoccupation that led nowhere. A sense of hopelessness and despair suffocated me–seeking to choke the life right out of me.

It was at this broken point in my life that I realized I had a choice to make. I could put my big girl pants on once again, try to pick up the pieces, bury the pain, and muscle my way through it trying to be strong, self-reliant, and self-sufficient, OR I could surrender to that still small voice telling me to let go and trust Him. In my heart, I sensed it was the Lord speaking to me, instructing me to cry out to Jesus. He was the one who 

Rescued Damsel shared by

Shelly Snitko

November 2012 19

Photo Credit: Hung the Moon Photography by Morgan Knight

loved me so much that He laid down His life on the cross and rose again from the grave that wondrous Easter morning so that I might have LIFE–and not just life with Him in heaven someday. He was promising me abundant life here on the earth too (John 15). Oh how I wanted something more. At the end of myself, my power, and my strength, I couldn’t face even one more day alone.

In that shattered moment, I cried out to Jesus through pitiful sobs that weren’t pretty. I was uncertain. It was painful, and I was vulnerable. I hated that feeling of vulnerability. I had run from it all my life. I wanted so desperately for God to help me because I knew I could no longer carry the burdens alone. As I lay there empty, my soul bared and heart raw, that sense of newness that had captivated me so many years ago as a teenager on Good Friday washed over me again. I was filled with a sense of peace and hope. Somehow I felt different and no longer alone. I felt a renewed sense of strength, purpose, and identity.

My circumstances did not change. My mom was still gone, and my husband was still leaving me, but somehow I knew I was going to be okay. I can’t explain the peace that washed over me or how my life changed that day, because words cannot adequately describe it. But in that moment I knew Jesus in a different and personal way. I knew from that day forward I was going to follow Him and live my life according to His ways and not my own. I knew that He was my security and my anchor of hope. In Christ, I had nothing to fear.

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My journey has been like a roller coaster ride with many twists and turns. I have had to learn countless lessons, and most have not come easy to me. Releasing the bitterness, anger, pain, shame, and guilt of my childhood was a painful process. It was the most challenging yet rewarding time in my life. I experienced the power of the Gospel at work. Others witnessing it were amazed at the grace in which I seemed to journey through those days.

I learned how to forgive. God opened my heart to the reality that forgiveness was not optional. The Lord’s Prayer says, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us”. I didn’t choose to forgive because those who hurt me deserved it or because I somehow managed to forget the harm their choices caused me. Rather, I was able to forgive them because Christ empowered me to extend grace, mercy, and love just as He bestows upon me as He loves and forgives me. Simply put, I chose to forgive because I had been forgiven. Over time, I learned to no longer live as a victim. The words of an old hymn became a source of strength to me . . . “because He lives I can face tomorrow, because He lives all fear is gone, because He lives I know the future, and life is worth the living just because He lives”.

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Learning to forgive was a pivotal point in my life. There were still storms that raged and tumultuous waters to weather, but God remained my constant power source and navigated me through them. My marriage wasn’t restored until Chris came to know the Lord and built His life upon the Rock. It wasn’t easy to learn to trust him again or allow myself to freely love him. I know in my

In this pursuit, I will continually hinders and the sin that so easily ent the race marked out for me. As I on Jesus, the author and perfec

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heart that I would have been okay even if Chris had not released his life to the Lord, but I am so thankful that he did! I am so glad God gave me the strength to forgive and to allow Him to rebuild our marriage. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss God’s best for us or the life we have now together in Christ. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t thank God for pursuing, transforming, and continuing to change us.

Less than two years after our marriage was reconciled, our son AJ became sick, resulting in a long-term physical disability. Once again the trajectory of my life was forever changed. I know the Lord is Sovereign and nothing touches me that hasn’t been allowed by Almighty God. God uses all things in our lives to mold and refine us.

I know that often I’ve resisted Him and suffered the consequences, yet His grace and love cover a multitude of sins. I have assurance that the Lord is continuing His work, and that He who began a good work in us will complete it (Luke 15:11-31, Romans 8:28).

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No doubt we will continue to face hardships, but I know with certainty that I will not face them alone. Instead, “one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal” (Philippians 3:13-14). In this pursuit, I will continually “seek to throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and run with perseverance the race marked out for me. As I live my life I seek to fix my eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of my faith” (Hebrews 12:1-2). One of the greatest blessings God has

allowed me as a result of my growing strength in Him and the trials in my life is to come alongside others in their struggles as a source of help and encouragement.

My faith journey with my Redeemer continues today.

There are still moments in which I wrestle to control things, along with times of desperation in which in weakness I raise my white flag of surrender. I’m not always content with my life circumstances. I remain a work in progress. Yet, my self-effort, circumstances, trials, and disappointments continually serve to keep me surrendered and “locked up” until I realize anew that the only way out is His way of faith and not my own.

It is my heartfelt prayer that my life will serve as a source of encouragement, pointing others toward Christ. I pray that no matter what people face in life, they will not seek to face it alone. I pray that people will not be selfsufficient, self-reliant, foolish builders but will build their lives upon the Rock, the Lord Jesus Christ. I don’t want people to confuse church attendance or activity with a real life-changing relationship with Him. It is incredible.

I’ve never known such healing, joy, peace, strength, and hope.

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y "seek to throw off everything that tangles, and run with perseverance live my life I seek to fix my eyes ctor of my faith." Hebrews 12:1-2

November 2012 21

by

Cindi Gibson Palma

How beautiful everyone will His table, A heavenly marriage, Him and me, with vows forever stable. be, when seated at

I and

long soak

to

gaze up

into all

His His

Eyes glory;

So intimate our life will be, with no end to this story.

For when He called me to Himself, I knew He was the One, I’d share my love, my life, my trust; many love songs I have sung!

And though He’s blessed me with a man to share my earthly life, Christ is my One and Only Groom, my Savior, my Lord, my Life!

Photo Credit: Hung the Moon Photography by Morgan Knight

My Heavenly Marriage

I sought the LORD, and he answered me; he DELIVERED me from all my fears.

Photo Credit: Hung the Moon Photography by Morgan Knight

[ Psalm 34:4, NIV ]

November 2012 23

All that I was doing for my kids, while great in theory, won't teach them how to follow God when nothing in their lives make sense. The errands, the hours I spent at work, and the circus act I was able to juggle are not what my children will remember about me. Maybe just seeing me persevere no matter what obstacle I am facing is far more of a lasting investment in their lives.

Photo Credit: Hung the Moon Photography by Morgan Knight

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No Longer an Asset shared by Jessica

I

feel inadequate at times. Some times as a wife and mother. Other times as a friend. Even times as a sister in the body of Christ.

My inadequacy was the reason I had put off telling anyone about my upcoming surgery. With five prior surgeries, I didn’t want others to feel obligated to bring us yet another meal. I wondered if those closest to me saw my friendship as more of a burden than a gift.

Before chronic illness came into my life, I spent ten years working in the banking industry. Over half of those years were in commercial lending. When an officer of a company applied for a loan, I would request their tax returns and financial statements to compare their assets (what they had) to their liabilities (what they owed). If their liabilities were more than their assets, the bank would be put into a higher risk of losing their investment, and this type of loan was undesirable.

In some ways, I viewed myself as an asset. I liked to think I added more than I took. I was the mom who was able to work, make dinner, put together spirit week costumes,

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take college classes, and schedule regular date nights with my man. At some point, I began to wrap my worth up in all the things I was able to do. If someone did something kind for me, I was able to in turn do something nice for them.

After chiari, a rare brain condition, everything changed.

I can no longer do it all, even though I desperately try.

At times I am in bed more than I am out of it. I watch my children deal with not only the emotional side effects of having a sick parent, but also being stuck performing tasks I used to do. I can see the disappointment in their faces when we set off on a family activity only to have to turn around and come home because of ME. My husband has had to assume many of my responsibilities as well. After work he has to pick up my medicine or groceries or come up with a dinner plan because I can’t do it. It makes me feel guilty, like a second rate wife. Now and then I question if Glen would have married me had he known all that lied ahead of us–more sickness than health. 

I fear my friends get tired of giving me rides or listening to me sob into the phone. Many times I have to accept their kindness knowing I cannot repay it. I often ask myself if I subtract from their lives instead of add to them?

If my worth is only based on the things I can do, then the answer to that question is a resounding yes. I am in fact a liability now, but perhaps I need to adjust my thinking.

Maybe my idea of what constitutes self-worth is skewed. All the things I used to be able to do perhaps weren’t assets after all.

When God created Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, He knew that once Eve ate the fruit we would become a liability. We would have a debt we were unable to pay.

Our righteousness and our good deeds would be nothing more than grease stained rags compared to His holiness.

God knew He would have to send His One and Only Son to pay for our sins, and yet not one of those sins would be His. We had no assets to offer Him, and He deemed us worthy anyway.

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All that I was doing for my kids, while great in theory, won’t teach them how to follow God when nothing in their lives make sense. The errands, the hours I spent at work, and the circus act I was able to juggle are not what my children will remember about me. Maybe just seeing me persevere no matter what obstacle I am facing is far more of a lasting investment in their lives.

While I may not be able to go on an all-day shopping trip with my friends, I can still contribute to their lives. I can laugh with them, cry with them, and grow in faith with them–maybe that is what is truly important.

In the end, I did tell a few close friends about my upcoming surgery. It was their encouragement that made me decide to send an email to my church family to let them know what was going on and to request much needed prayer. The response and support were overwhelming. I received a personal message from a lady letting me know I was being prayed for. She also included a link to a blog she had been following where the woman who is injured has trouble accepting the love and grace shown to her by others while she feels absolutely useless.

She wondered if I might sometimes feel the same way. It literally gave me goose bumps!

I rarely am able to talk with this dear lady in my church face-to-face and yet she had been able to discern how I must be feeling. I confessed to her feeling guilty in regards to sharing yet another prayer request. Her response was, “We should never get tired of hearing ways we can pray for each other! Jesus promises to intercede for us every day, and He is our model for how to serve each other.

Keep on sharing with us how we can pray for you and your family.”

This sweet lady reminded me that Jesus is the example we are to follow. Our worth doesn’t come in what we can offer but in who we are in Him. God knew that chiari would rob me of my old life, and He knew He had something better for me. As I have been forced to recognize my own weaknesses and my own physical limitations, my eyes have been illuminated to the strength of my Father. I have witnessed true love shown to me and my family by those who not only don’t EXPECT me to pay them back, they don’t WANT me to. I am learning that assets and liabilities are better left at the bank. God meant for us to experience grace and mercy, not because of the things we can do, but because of the things we can’t.

November 2012 25

The Real To -Do List by

Rachael Jackson

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o the laundry – check. Make breakfast and lunches – check. Take shower and get dressed – check. Balance bank accounts – check. Pick up toys – check. Do dishes – check.

Feed dogs and cat – check. Wake up kids, feed, dress, and get out the door – check. Drop off kids at daycare – check. Go to work – check. Try to get stuff done at work – check. Groceries, dry cleaning, errands – check. Workout – check. Pick up kids and drive home – check. Unload car – check. Make and eat dinner – check. Do dishes – check. Bathe kids and put to bed – check. Shower – check. Spend time with husband – check.

Fall in bed – check.

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Wash. Rinse. Repeat . . .

Ugh! I’m exhausted! Do you ever feel like this? Do you ever feel like your life has been taken over by one huge checklist of to-dos, must dos, can’t dos, and want to dos? And then, on top of all the normal to-do items, add in the craziness of holidays – gift buying, decorating, and dressing up, photos, cards, parties, meals, trees, cooking and cleaning multiplied by 100 . . . why do we do it?

Lately, I have been just overwhelmed with these to-dos of life. It has come to the point where I actually caught myself commiserating with the checkout lady at the grocery store that “at least being busy makes the days go by faster”!

Wait! I don’t really feel that way, do I? I don’t want to get to the end of my life and look back saying, “Well, at least it went by really fast.” No! I want to enjoy every second that God has blessed me with on this earth. I want to enjoy my family, my friends, my Lord, and my blessings with every minute of my life to the fullest extent possible! Can I get there with a checklist? What about with the good Christian kind? You know: daily devotionals – check, prayer time – check, quiet time – check, help the less fortunate – check, go on mission – check. Those are certainly all good things, but maybe the answer is no checklist at all. Maybe it is just a process of listening to different voices in our days – the voice of the spirit and the voices of those we love as opposed to the internal monologue that compels us to just “get ‘er done.”

I have become more and more convinced that there are some things that matter tremendously in this world, and some things that just won’t count in the end. I was in the middle of my nightly routine, bound and determined to get the house cleaned and kids bathed in a timely manner, when I was interrupted by the sound of my two-year-old saying, “Mama, up pease. Graw! Graw! Pease hep, pease!” (Loosely translated: “Help me, Mama. I want to draw with you, please.”) He seemed to shake me out of my ritualistic trance and vault me into the reality that here was my son, one of the

great loves of my life, growing up so very fast and asking to just be with me while I was more concerned with getting my checklist done. Ouch!

So, I dropped the dishes in the sink and picked up my baby girl, Ava, in one arm and sat with my son, Aaron, on my lap in the other arm, and we drew pictures, letters, numbers, and shapes to our hearts’ content. The time spent with each other was miraculously healing. His whining and tantrums ceased.

His face broke out into a radiant smile. He talked with me. I talked with him. We listened to each other. We had fun. We bonded and made memories. I want to live for moments like that.

Don’t get me wrong. There is definite merit in getting things done that we absolutely have to do, and I take pride in multitasking, prioritizing, and accomplishing, BUT I believe that we need to set our priorities so that we can drop the to-do list whenever we hear the calling to just sit and enjoy.

I want to sit and enjoy being with my husband – what will I remember most about my time with him? Cooking our dinner, doing our laundry, making our bed? Or will I remember long talks over hot tea, cuddling on the couch watching football, or the chess games at which he beats me mercilessly? I want to spend more time making the memories with him that I will keep with me forever.

I want to sit and enjoy my children – they grow up too fast, and I don’t get to see them during the day because I work.

Why would I take the precious couple of hours that I get to spend with them during the day and turn it in to a marathon of chores? I want to make that time about getting to know them and enjoy them at every stage of their lives!

I want to focus in on and enjoy the real meaning behind the holidays. I want to learn to be thankful for what I have instead of constantly thinking of what else is next to buy. I want to bless others with my time instead of making sure my to-do list accomplishes all things for my family.

I also want to just sit and enjoy the heavenly Father! Time spent with Him is so sweet and fulfilling. It provides us with all the sustainment we need to make it possible to enjoy this life. Without Him and His guidance, I tend to get muddled down in the drudgery as opposed to living life with the joy and power that He intended for us!

So many things take up our lives, but only some of them will matter in the end. Let’s make sure we keep track of the REAL to-do list.

November 2012 27

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PrayingCrossed with

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fingers

by Jessica

Photo Credit: Hung the Moon Photography by Morgan Knight

Continued from “Our Prayers Are Like a Sweet Fragrance” from the October 2012 Issue

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H

ave you ever been up late at night with something heavy on your heart and as you begin to pray you wonder if you are even being heard? Considering that there are billions of people on the planet, does God really have time to listen to all of the prayers? Maybe you don’t think that He really does as you cross your fingers hoping that this whole prayer thing will work. But does it really work?

King Hezekiah was a king of Judah that became very sick and was close to death. Isaiah, the prophet, visits King Hezekiah and delivers the rather grim message, “The Lord says to get your house in order because you are going to die.” I don’t suppose this was the uplifting message King Hezekiah was hoping to receive as he lay on his deathbed.

Isaiah wasn’t just sharing his medical opinion with the king of what would happen with him physically, but rather, he was delivering a message that had come from God Himself.

If I was Hezekiah, I probably would have planned to spend

wonder if they felt forgotten.

When Zacharias’s time came for him to burn the incense, an angel appeared on Zacharias’s right side. The angel told Zacharias, “Do not be afraid, for your prayer is heard and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son.” (Luke 1:13) Zacharias was so dumbfounded that he doubted the validity of the angel’s message and because of his lack of faith, he was struck mute until his son John was born. Aren’t we like that sometimes? We pray with such little faith that when God actually answers our request we walk around in amazement as if something unexpected has occurred.

The angel’s words confirmed that Zacharias’s prayers had always been heard, but Zacharias hadn’t planned on God’s timing being different from his own. Beth Moore in her study, A Woman’s Heart: God’s Dwelling Place, points out “All this time Zacharias and Elizabeth had felt picked on, but

God doesn’t want us to pray with crossed fingers hoping that somehow our prayers make it past the ceiling. We are told to come with boldness before the throne of grace and there we will find mercy and help in our time of need (Hebrews 4:16). as much time with my family as I could and maybe written down vital things I wanted my children to remember when I was gone. I would have assumed God’s decision to be final.

But Hezekiah didn’t do that at all. Instead, Hezekiah, in brokenness of spirit, went before the Lord and asked the Lord to reconsider. Of course God was too busy to hear Hezekiah’s request, right? God had already decided it was Hezekiah’s time to die so Hezekiah was just wasting his time, wasn’t he?

No! In Isaiah 38:5, we find Isaiah once again being dispatched to Hezekiah’s room with a second message from God. God had heard Hezekiah’s prayer, had granted his request, and his life was extended an additional fifteen years.

What if Hezekiah hadn’t gone to the Lord in prayer? He would have missed out not only in having his life extended, but experiencing the very presence of God in his life.

Hezekiah was not afraid to speak to God as a son speaks to a father and Hezekiah didn’t doubt God could undo His decision.

Then there was Zacharias and Elizabeth. Zacharias was a priest and both he and his wife were commended as being righteous by God (Luke 1:6). Elizabeth, however, was barren and now well advanced in age. I wonder how many years this couple had prayed for a child. How many tears had they shed? How many hours had they spent on their knees in prayer? When Elizabeth’s biological clock ran out of time, I

instead they had been picked out.” This couple had been picked out by God to witness a miracle. Have you stopped praying for something because God hasn’t answered in your timing?

We can be confident that God hears us and since we know He hears us we can trust our requests are safe in His hands.

I wonder how many blessings we have foregone because we didn’t take our burdens to the Lord. How many miracles have we missed because we were afraid to whisper the words -- afraid God may decide not to show up? God doesn’t want us to pray with crossed fingers hoping that somehow our prayers make it past the ceiling. We are told to come with boldness before the throne of grace and there we will find mercy and help in our time of need (Hebrews 4:16).

When I think of a throne, my mind conjures up the image of an oversized chair encased in solid gold and engraved with intricate carvings. It stands for power and authority. God chooses to call His throne a place of grace. A place of refuge.

A place He wants us to run to when we have a need. He even tells us to come with boldness, expecting something to happen.

Thankfully our emotions don’t dictate the power of God. Even when you don’t think your prayers are being heard, they are. Uncross your fingers and pray with boldness. You are loved. You are heard. After all, faith the size of a mustard seed can move a mountain. God chooses to be affected by our prayers. What an indescribable gift!

November 2012 29

May the God of all

hope

joy

fill you with and

peace

in believing so that by the power of Photo Credit: Hung the Moon Photography by Morgan Knight

the holy spirit you

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may

abound

in

HOPE {Romans 15:13, ESV}

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Moving

Mountains of Doubt

Photo Credit: Andrea Wilhelm

shared by

Rachael Jackson

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ornado warning sirens will never again signal just weather danger to me. Two years ago, they were the soundtrack to the most memorable phone call I ever received in my life. Even as I write this, I feel myself going back to that day . . .

way! We were in the middle of a Particularly Dangerous Situation (PDS as the weathermen said) with deadly and ferocious rotating clouds touching down in unpredictable patterns and many locations. Several were heading directly toward our home.

October 26, 2010, was a dark and ominous day in Huntsville Alabama. I had left my 11-month-old son home with his nanny when I left for work, but I soon found myself turning around as rolling, thick, black clouds started barreling toward me. Something inside me triggered the need to return home to the nest and resume my protective stance of my child.

With my heart racing, I threw blankets and couch cushions into our small, windowless bathroom and took cover with my baby boy, praying to God to keep us safe. As fears for our safety swirled in my head, I heard the phone ring.

Upon arrival, I let the nanny go home, turned on the TV, and began keeping watch over the weather situation. I did not have to wait long. Soon the weather radio started blaring, sirens started whaling, and forecasters started warning–all signaling impending doom.

Tornados–multiple tornadoes–were on their

The name on my caller ID struck fear, hesitation, and dread into my soul. I sensed what the call was going to be about. It was my brother was calling, and he never called me. Eleven years his senior, I was just not around enough when he was growing up to really develop a close sibling relationship, and a phone call was a rare thing indeed.

As I answered, I felt my throat constrict, my heart leap, and my eyes swell. Then, he said it. “She’s gone Rachael. She’s gone.” Mom had died. 

November 2012 31

I don’t remember my exact response. The news was not altogether unexpected. She had been very sick for a long time. As the overwhelming finality of her death began to hit me, I think I choked out questions asking, “How did it happen? Are you okay? How is everyone?”

The following days were filled with busy work. Packing for my little family, driving 13 hours to my mom’s house, planning the funeral, preparing paperwork for my mom’s final disposition, going through her home and dispersing her effects, and spending time with family consumed my mind and preoccupied my emotions. Then the day came for our final farewell. There was no busy work and nothing to focus on other than my mom and family.

As expected, I was overwhelmed by the scenes surrounding me in the church. Forever in my memory I will see my dad crying over lost hope and expectations, my husband sitting in the church pew with tears streaming down his face as I spoke about my mom, and multiple friends and acquaintances hugging my family members and me trying to reassure us that “she was in a better place” and that “we would all see her again someday.”

What I did not see coming was my reaction to the barrage of clichés that the well-meaning fellow Christians offered as their effort to provide solace. I knew the sayings and I had believed them at one point, but for some reason I could not find comfort in them. Instead, I found them rather empty. It wasn’t that I was angry at God for my mom’s death. I knew that it had been the result of her own choices in life. He had been nothing but a source of sweet grace and mercy to her.

Instead of solace, that day began a series of questions that chipped away at my faith and at my heart – leaving me cold, unsure, and searching. Questions raced through my mind, even though I did not want to admit it, and they did not lose steam. Really? Really? Are you for real God? How is it possible? How can I believe in something I’ve never seen?

32 SHATTERED Magazine

Psalm 23

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Alarmed at the emotions overcoming me, my son was soon caught up in sympathetic tears to match mine. There we sat in a pile of cushions on the bathroom floor with sirens wailing, tornadoes swirling, and tears streaming.

Soon, my husband’s strong arms were holding us both as he comforted and supported us. He reassured Aaron and explained, “Mama needs us now, son. She’s sad.” That picture will be forever etched in my mind and heart – my men surrounding me protectively as my loss overtook me.

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I was the oldest sibling, the rock, the example, and I had to keep it together. But my composure did not last long. As I called my husband to tell him what happened, my tears flowed and sobs shook my body.

(NLT)

A psalm of David.

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need.

2 He lets me rest in green meadows; he leads me beside peaceful streams.

3 He renews my strength.

He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name.

4 Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me.

Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.

5 You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies.

You honor me by anointing my head with oil.

My cup overflows with blessings.

6 Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the Lord forever.

As a woman who loves God with all her heart, I have seen Him move in remarkable ways in my life and have experienced Him so personally on numerous occasions that I really thought my faith was rock solid, but those cliché’s had hit me hard and I could not ignore the question, “Do I REALLY believe?” The idea of life after death – the actual ability to resurrect and spend eternity with some unseen deity just seemed so inconceivable and so far-fetched.

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In the hours that I needed Him the most, when you might think that I would be finding my solace in God, I actually turned away from Him. There was a definite wall of doubt resurrected in my heart. I went through the motions of the funeral and said all of the right things, but I had so many questions. It was just too hard for me to believe.

Desperate for resolution, my only prayer for a long time was, “God, are you real? Are you there? Please help me.

Help me believe. Help me understand. Help me see you.

Help me feel you. Help me.” I had come to depend on my relationship with Christ for everything. He was the cornerstone of my life, and as I questioned that, I felt the foundation on everything else start to crack. I needed answers, and I needed them from God himself. No one else had the words to say that would help make God real or to ease my fears.

As much as I wanted to, I could not do anything to help the situation either. Nothing I read or listened to did anything to prove to me or reassure me about the reality of God. Everything had a flip side to it. Everything I had learned and come to believe about God, I called in to question.

Photo Provided by: Andrea Wilhelm

The next few months were critical. I carried on with life in general because I had to, but when it came to my relationship with God, I became very still. I waited. I watched. I listened.

Slowly, my heart began to soften, and my mind began to soak life in again. As I watched my husband, I was reminded of God’s provision of marriage and how sweet the Lord had made our union. With two strong-willed people like my husband and me, the fact that we grew closer to each other every day of our marriage was evidence of divine intervention. Both of us had needed numerous heart changes during our union together, and only God can change a heart –deep in my heart and mind, I still believed that.

As I watched my son methodically master more and more life skills, and then began to feel the movement of our brand new baby girl growing inside of me, I was reminded of the intricacies of human life and the divine hand in the creative process. Who did I give credit to for those miracles? I knew for sure that it was a thousand times harder for me to believe evolution could be randomly responsible for my children rather than a loving Creator.

I felt the Lord bringing to mind the memories of answered prayers. Direct answers from the Lord of the Universe had been the cement in our relationship. I had received so many confirming responses from Him in my life. He led me through seasons of anger, hopelessness, sickness, and depression to enjoy seasons of joy, hope, health, and freedom. He had made me stronger for Him through every trial and tribulation. Psalm 23 epitomized the presence of the Lord in my life. He had been my constant through the valleys, leading me to green pastures where He healed me and made me whole. He guided my path to my career, my husband, and my kids. He had protected me, healed me, and brought me peace. In the end, my experiences with Him proved to be the strongest evidence that could have been presented to me. I had tasted Him and known Him to be real, present, and good. I could not deny that.

As the days waded deeper and deeper into autumn, my most favorite time of the year, the Lord then began to use nature to reach out to me. With every bright orange and deep red leaf that peppered the landscape, with every orange streak across the sun-emblazoned sky, with every flock of birds flying deeper south, and with every waft of wood smoke scent floating through the crisp air, I felt my Creator speaking to me. He re-opened my eyes to His glorious attention to detail in nature and reminded me of His sovereign hand. He spoke to me of His care, His love, His compassion, and His gentleness.

Then the holidays were upon us–the season of His birth.

He reinvigorated my faith and I found myself believing again. I knew within my deepest heart of hearts that He was real. For some people, facing the holidays minus their loved one brings a sense of dread and depression. The physical absence of one held so dear to us can cast an aura of “incomplete” over festive occasions. For me, as my siblings and my family gathered in our home, it became a time of meaningful celebration because I finally knew that I really would see my mama again.

November 2012 33

Continued from “When Cancer Strikes Again” from the October 2012 Issue

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Photo Credit: Rachael Jackson

shared by

34 SHATTERED Magazine

Doris Riccelli

A

fter praying and asking God what I should do, I felt led to go ahead with the chemotherapy treatments. I contacted a local oncologist and had my initial consultation within a week. The doctor explained in detail what kind of chemo he would use, the side-effects I could expect to experience from the drugs, and how I would benefit from the treatments. He seemed quite confident that I would do well, which helped put my mind somewhat at ease.

In preparation for the chemo, I had a port surgically inserted in my upper chest in mid-September. Its point of entry was just below my collar bone and at the top edge of my right breast.

I was told by the oncologist and the surgeon that this would save me from having numerous needle sticks associated with the treatments. It would also protect my veins from any risk of damage caused by the intensity of the drugs.

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Just four days after surgery, I began my regime of treatments.

It consisted of a combination of three different chemotherapy drugs, steroids, and anti-nausea medicines. I was scheduled to receive 12 rounds of treatments at a pace of two weeks on and two weeks off. Between treatments I would have regular blood tests to assure my levels remained constant. My routine was to work all week, have my treatment on Friday, rest over the weekend, and start the whole process again on Monday. I consistently prayed for strength and asked God to keep my body strong. The Lord heard my pleas and answered them. But then calamity struck the first weekend in October.

I became ill while attending a friend’s wedding. Things worsened during the reception. I felt nauseated. Every bone in my body hurt. My chest area and right shoulder throbbed with pain. I was in agony by the end of the evening. When I got home I took my temperature, and I had spiked a high fever. I went to bed, and early the next morning I contacted my doctor. Within 24 hours I was hospitalized. My body had filled with infection and the port was the culprit.

For days the doctors ordered antibiotic after antibiotic, but nothing worked. I continued to get worse. After a week the doctors had no choice but to remove the port in an attempt to stop the infection. It was a painful procedure as the area had become extremely inflamed and irritated, but within a few days I had turned the corner and was showing signs of improvement.

I was scheduled to have a new port inserted. While praying the night before the surgery, I sensed the Holy Spirit telling me to not go through with it. I then contacted my doctors and told them that I had decided not to have the surgery.

They strongly disagreed with my decision and argued that the remainder of my chemo treatments would damage my veins. They were adamant and did all they could to change my mind, but I remained sensitive to what the Lord had said and went against what the doctors recommended. After I was fully recovered from the infection, I continued my regime of treatments, only now the drugs were being injected directly

into the veins in my right arm.

All things seemed to be going well, and I was counting down the weeks until I was done with my chemotherapy treatments. Then one day in mid-December, I ran my hand across my right breast as I was showering and felt a lump in the EXACT spot where the port had been. I thought at first that it could be just some scar tissue. Then it dawned on me – what I had heard as I approached the outside doors of the hospital the day I had my mammogram back in June – “They didn’t spend enough time on the right side.” The Holy Spirit was speaking to me that day. He was forewarning me then, and He was forewarning me when I was praying about inserting another port after the first one was taken out because of the infection. It all was beginning to make sense.

God knew all along that that cancer was there, and that’s why the Holy Spirit kept tel ing me the things that He did.

At my chemotherapy treatment the next day, I told the oncology nurse about the lump. She immediately called the doctor to examine it, and right away he ordered tests to be done. A few days later I went for a diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound which confirmed a second breast cancer. God knew all along that that cancer was there, and that’s why the Holy Spirit kept telling me the things that He did.

My case was then deemed a rarity, so I was referred to a breast cancer specialist. I underwent surgery on Valentine’s Day in 2003, just seven months after my left breast cancer surgery. A segmental mastectomy and right sentinel node removal confirmed another stage 1 breast cancer; however, the cancer was not a spread from the first one. It was a completely different type of breast cancer. I knew in my heart that the radiologist had misdiagnosed me the previous June, but the Great Physician, the Lord God Almighty, had been protecting me through it all.

Find out in the December issue how God continued to reveal Himself throughout the remainder of Doris’s breast cancer journey, and how her hope in the Lord has resulted in being a 10-year survivor.

Opposite Page: Doris

recovering from one of her treatments on her long road to the healing that showed her the tangible power of listening to God’s voice of protection.

November 2012 35

The Little Imperfections … shared by

Rachael Jackson

U

gh! That photo of me running a 5K – the one with the shadows angled just so across my face to make my already formidable jaw look like Jay Leno’s well-known chin on steroids!

My lips were pursed tight, my eyes squinted in the sun, and the sweat streamed down my face in the effort expended while running for the first time in 5 years. The pained expression on my face as I pushed through the pain to cross the finish line might clue you in to the fact that I was completely oblivious to the photographer standing there, waiting to capture our victorious finishes . . . until I saw it tagged on Facebook – there I was!

I had been photographed as I truly am in natural life. I had no chance to pose my face, fix my hair, perfect my makeup, or find the ideal angle to hide any unwanted flab or soften my jaw. For me, that revelation was disheartening to say the least.

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The unflattering photo caught me up in a whirlwind of negative thoughts and emotions about myself. It led me to question my self-worth, my sense of feeling beautiful, and what others thought of me. I wondered why my husband even found me attractive. Such a fine-looking man as himself could have had any woman he wanted. Why did he choose one like me? The ugly feeling made me insecure, and when insecurity creeps into a marriage, so does conflict.

Unwarranted accusations and strife followed, but were quickly snuffed out. I was being ridiculous, and I knew it. I let a snapshot in time define who I was as a woman, and deep down, I knew that was not true. My husband does find me beautiful. He knows me for whom I am and loves me – every part of me, unflattering or not. My beauty is not made with my perfectly coiffed hair, well-manicured hands, or expertly applied makeup. Rather, it is made of my inner confidence, my smile, my family, my work, my life, and my love shining through me.

As silly as this incident was, it made me think. How often might we do the same thing with God? Do we let little snippets of ourselves define us? Do we focus on our small imperfections only to have them consume us and our identity? Do we end up finding ourselves so unattractive that we turn around and wonder how God could love us, forgive us, or accept us?

Do we then turn those insecurities into untrue accusations against God – who just wants us to know our real worth and understand how beautiful He finds us inside and out? After all, He made us. He knows us. He died for us. He waits for us. He walks with us. Isn’t this proof enough of our value?

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it: Nancy K

Photo Cred

36 SHATTERED Magazine

Our beauty in God’s eyes is not made up of presenting our most acceptable selves to Him. Our beauty comes from covering ourselves with Him, and letting Him shine through us. The fact is that we are worthy, we are loved, we are redeemed, and we have a purpose. We can live in the power of that and truly be beautiful because of Him.

WORTHY.

LOVED.

REDEEMED. PURPOSED.

BEAUTIFUL

Photo Credit: Hung the Moon Photography by Morgan Knight

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