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Tuesday, March 10, 2015
It was a difficult time in my life. I was facing surgery and walking through a lot of pain. I remember sitting on my couch one night, feeling sorry for poor, poor, pitiful Robbie.
My phone made that little noise it makes when I get a text. I picked it up and read:
Come to your door. I'm out here. Need to see you.
I started giggling and crying at the same time.
"John, will you open the door?" My husband opened it and in came my buddy, Michele. "What are you doing here?"
"I had to come. You need to know. You need to know in person that you are so important to me."
An hour earlier, she had called and told me her fantastic news - she was going to be an emcee at the Women of Faith conferences. But it was a last minute deal and she had to leave the next morning. In fact, she wouldn't be there for my surgery.
"Michele....." I had told her it was okay, but she heard the disappointment in my voice. In the midst of the scariness of surgery, I wanted her near. Selfishly, yes. But there it was.
So what did Michele do? She listened to my excitement for her, for I was truly excited, she listened to my words of forgiveness and grace, for I truly wasn't angry (It wasn't a life or death surgery and I was not going to be alone) and she HEARD that I was disappointed, because I was.
At that moment, a lot of friends would've said to themselves that they did what they could do and then they would go on to packing since the plane was leaving early the next morning.
But not Michele Cushatt
She came over immediately holding chocolate and friendship in her hands, like two presents that go together. And of course, they do. :)
Michele and I sat on the couch for a while and laughed and cried. We laughed at the simple joy of exciting news and an opportunity to bless others in the name of Jesus. We cried at the sadness that pain evokes. Sitting in my living room, together, we had a few moments of the pleasure of friendship, sent straight from the Father. And from my friend's heart.
That was almost a year ago. I could tell SO MANY Michele Cushatt stories. Stories of cooking and laughter and writing. So many hours spent together writing!! At one point, we both desperately wanted to complete our manuscripts and decided to encourage each other in the doing. So we made a pact to KEEP GOING. No matter what we could KEEP GOING. My first novel came out a year ago. And today, March 10, 2015, one of the best books I've ever read is launched:
UNDONE by Michele Cushatt!!
It's a memoir that tells the story of a deep friendship between Michele and sweet Jesus. A friendship that is tested over and over through cancer, blended family woes and an unexpected gift of three littles - children that would move into her home and change her life. It's a story of the kind of friend Jesus is - He shows up in her book over and over to tell her to give up control and lean on Him. He gives her perspective that turns into courage when she is scared to death. He puts folks in her life that point back to Him. Jesus is all over this book, showing US, Michele's readers, that walking in His grace means developing a kind of friendship that will get us through ANYTHING. Life and death and death and life.
Michele Cushatt is one of my best friends. And weirdly enough, it's been kinda difficult trying to come up with a review for her book. Too many words crowd my mind.
But finally, one has come through. Friendship. Undone is a story of making peace with an unexpected life through hanging out with her best friend - Jesus. Michele is unwaveringly honest and real. None of the Christian spewing of shallow platitudes. She has walked through hell the past couple of years and in every phase of it, she has done the same thing over and over. She has turned to her best friend for help. I've told her many times that what I have admired about her the most is her consistency in practicing her faith. Even when it was faith alone - no emotions. In fact, even when the emotions were anger and fear and a sense of darkness - she still opened up the Word of God and called out to her friend, her best friend, Jesus.
I will never forget the night that my friend Michele made sure that I knew she was in my corner. She came to my home late at night and offered me chocolate and her heart.
As I read Undone, as YOU read Undone, you will realize that there is a friend like no other who will always show up at your home when you need Him. He will have the good chocolate with Him, too. :)
Go now and order this wonderful memoir and let the Father snuggle with you on the couch and show you His deep love for you. This is the link to Undone on Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0310339782/
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Many are the plans in a person’s heart,
but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails. Proverbs 19:21
but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails. Proverbs 19:21
My dear old Puggle Scooby ran off the other night. He was outside on our condo’s balcony and saw a bunny. Any rabbit is an immediate nemesis for Scooby. Professor Moriarty to his Sherlock. The Joker to his Batman. A meal for his tummy. J
Scooby had to have that bunny so he actually opened our screen door (it wasn’t closed all the way) and took off. I heard the door open and close and thought John and Noah had returned from a man-thing they were doing. But instead, it was Scooby living life off the leash.
I do my best to try to control my dogs. We obey leash laws and try to keep their barking at a minimum. But Scooby’s heart was made to chase rabbits. This is a fact. I cannot control this fact.
My life right now is full of circumstances I cannot control. I try, but I sense God giggling when I do. If only everyone would do as I do, well, life would be much better. But my husband and son don’t get this. Can you believe that?? J
My body doesn’t quite register that it needs to do exactly as I say. My neighbors, friends and even my puppies make decisions before asking me permission.
The world of recovery and 12 steps has a wonderful saying – “Live life on life’s terms.”
This simply means stop trying to control everything and everyone around you. Instead, enjoy what God brings to your door and deal with difficulties as they come.
To me, a control freak since birth, this is terrifying. Right now, I am living in a place of trying to desperately control what will happen in the next two weeks. I have a plan that I think would be excellent for everyone concerned.
Did you hear that?
God giggled again even as I typed.
The bottom line is this: do I trust God to work it all out more than I trust myself?
Ouch. Trusting the Father is a moment by moment decision every day. It is up to me to hand over my worries, my plans and my expectations to Him because He is El Elyon – the Most High God. The One who is sovereign and controls everything. EVERYTHING.
Scooby didn’t get the bunny and came back inside, triumphantly wagging his tail. My silly Puggle reminded me that living life off the leash is what makes a heart sing. And yet I try to leash up everything around me. I try to take the Father’s place. It always ends badly.
So today, pray with me this simple prayer: Father, You are in control. Help me embrace this truth.
As the great Kay Arthur said, “Nothing will happen today that isn’t first sifted through God’s hands.”
Friday, May 09, 2014
I am so looking forward to reading my friend Carrie O Toole's book, Relinquished - When Love Means Letting Go. Carrie's story is gut wrenching and beautiful. Truly a story of how God can use everything to draw us to Him and help others around us. Carrie has told me part of her story but I am looking forward to sitting and reading how God worked through a really, really difficult situation. It's coming out this weekend I encourage you to join me and check it out. I invited Carrie to share a little bit on my blog. The following is a guest post by Carrie O'Toole.
So many things have been written about Easter! We all have memories of Easter's past.
Here's a video retelling of Easter 2009 from my kitchen to yours:
I wrote my story three years ago, as therapy for my broken heart and exhausted spirit. After hearing, "Memoirs don't sell" countless times, I put the book away and tried to write a self-help book. During this time, I wrestled with my confidence and thoughts of not wanting to write a book, just for the sake of writing a book. I could not ignore the burning in my soul about writing my story.
I believe God resurrected this book, because my story is powerful! I decided to sit down and write it again, the book practically birthed itself!
As time passed and my wounds healed, I realized my story isn't just a memoir. It's a MEMOIR with a MESSAGE. A message that needs to be heard by:
- foster, step, and adoptive parents-you will feel understood, heard, and find strength.
- those who have been adopted-you may relate to the feelings you've always struggled to understand.
- family and friends of foster, step, and adoptive families-they need you to understand what's happening in their homes without judgment. They need support.
- counselors, doctors, teachers, pastors, judicial workers, social workers, and those in the system-please learn about Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD). Please understand what happens at home is not what you see in public. Please give support to these parents, especially the moms. They are trying so hard, and can't seem to figure this out. They are giving to the point of exhaustion, and they need help, not criticism.
- those who have or are currently struggling with infertility or miscarriage-you are not alone, and your grief is real.
- struggling parents-it's such a tough job! Things don't always go the way we hoped, but you will get get through it.
Easter...the time of death and resurrection.
God has given me a new life. I hope my book will inspire many to continue even when it feels like life is over, even when you don't think you can take one more breath. Keep going. God has a plan. It may not look like YOUR plan, but he has a plan. It will be good again. It will even be great!
Preorder Carrie's book here: http://www.carrieotoole.com/store.php
Friday, February 28, 2014
“Do not be afraid, for I am with you…” Isaiah 43:5
If you asked me right now to take a piece of paper out and make a list of every single person who came to my mother’s funeral, I could do it. And Mama died twenty years ago.
A funeral is one thing, but what about something a little less traumatic, like when John was in the hospital after his motorcycle wreck? I could tell you every person who came to the hospital to visit me, drop off something for us, take care of Noah or sit and pray for John.
Why? Because in times of need, or hurt, or grief, being there is the thing that counts the most.
Yesterday a friend of mine was waiting for the results to a biopsy. It was my honor to hang out with her for a bit. Another friend is going through a divorce. Best thing I can do for her, besides pray, is to take her out for coffee and listen. I don’t try to give her advice or counsel, unless she asks for it. I am just there.
In the world of Christianity, we often think that because we are honored to follow Jesus, we have the responsibility to fix others and their problems. But many times, we get in the Spirit’s way in an effort to be spiritual.
Hurting folks just want to be WITH someone. Not always. Some folks need to be alone, but they want to be offered the chance of someone’s presence.
When a person’s physical presence is impossible, an email, phone call or text goes a long way.
I have walked through much hurt and pain and over and over again, it is the people who just SHOW UP that ease my suffering. They don’t have to say magic spiritual words. They just need to let me know they care and they are there.
It is just like God to be the One who thought this up in the first place. Being there. He assures us in His Word that He is with us. He will never leave us. Ever. When we are going through pain, God is there. When we are scared out of our minds in an ER room, God is there. When we feel hopeless and alone, God is there.
Today ask the Father to show you someone who needs a little of your presence. Be there for someone. It’s like offering a cool glass of ice water to someone who’s just run a marathon. Being there soothes, eases, helps and heals.
Thank you, God, that being there for us with Your unconditional love is the essence of who You are.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
John and I Two Years Ago
Everyone has a love story – some of us have many.
It might be a story of a love lost or an unrequited love. Maybe it’s a love of deep friendship that covered us like a home sewn quilt on a chilly night.
But every one of us have experienced love of some sort.
The deepest love story of my life is the story of John Iobst and myself. It’s an unlikely story. We met and married 17 ½ years ago. We’ve talked about that time in our lives and both of us agree that we each wanted to find someone so badly. Desperation colored our love story in hues of rush and foolishness. At the time we didn’t care but celebrated that we found someone.
After we married, life changed. Our love story surfaced surprising truth and ugliness. We both lied to each other in an attempt to replay those months of pre-wedding joy. We lied to try and hide the truth of who we really were. The lies bloomed into quiet denial and buried anger.
For the first 7 years of our marriage, our patterns grew furrows in our lives. Well worn paths of hurt, fights, tears and denial continued until they were our regular routes in dealing with anything. Noah came in year 3 and for a while we pledged to be those parents – the ones who raise children in the love of Christ – simple and clean and honest. But the roads of communication were already paved in unflinching asphalt.
11 years ago, tomorrow, I left John. I took Noah and I dropped him off at Gamma Joani’s house, a woman who’d become an adopted grandma to Noah and a true friend to me. I then went to my friend Desha’s house and fell apart. The word divorce surrounded me with its neon letters blinding me.
The Father whose sovereignty baffles me, saw John and me, knowing the kind of marriage we’d built, and reached down with His mercy and grace. He gently gave us both a choice. Work with Him and those He sent to us and repave our lives or divorce. Take our love story to a different, new level that we’d never experienced or leave each other. The work would be difficult and painful. SO PAINFUL.
In the same kind of desperation that began our love story, we both, individually, said “Yes God!” We worked hard to dig ourselves out of those deeply engrained furrows of denial and lies. We worked hard to make new paths that honored God and each other.
A new chapter in our love story was written. Honest love came. A deep friendship and passion was born.
11 years ago.
I have moments that I wish I’d had a different love story. One of those where two young kids find each other and grow at the same pace for the rest of their lives. Or one of those like in a romantic comedy where the frustration with each other magically turns to love, complete with music in the background.
God had other plans for me. He led me to a divorced man with three girls. He led me to a man that was in the same place I was. So desperate to not be alone that we made foolish choices. Was it foolish for us to get married? We both agree that it was not God’s best. But that’s the thing about God and His baffling sovereignty. He saw John and me and He loved us completely. Enough that He allowed our desperate, foolish choices, knowing that we would be desperate again for Him to save our marriage.
I love John Iobst more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. Last night I woke him up at midnight because I was burdened with something. We spoke in whispers and then ended up shaking in laughter. A few moments with a man who is my soul mate and I am his. Didn’t start out that way. But God knew that if we let Him be Lord of our marriage, He would give us a gift that we tried to manufacture but could not. The gift of a love story.
11 years ago, we let Him take His rightful place. It’s a wonderful anniversary to us.
The anniversary of our love story.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
I am not a phone person. Never been the kind of gal who likes to sit and talk for a long time without being able to see someone. I don’t know why. So many times I’ve heard my friends say things like, “Were you angry on the phone? You sounded sick when I called. You don’t like talking on the phone, do you?”
The last positive comment I remember about me and the phone was a long time ago when a roommate told me, “We always know when you are talking to your folks, Robbie. You laugh and laugh. And sometimes you cry.”
My mom died 20 years ago. My dad 11 years ago. I miss those phone calls.
But this weekend, God gave me a gift through a phone call.
If you’ve read my book, Cecelia Jackson’s Last Chance, you may remember two characters named Mark and Cathy Kildwell. Mark was the mortician of Boots, Texas. Well, those two folks are the only characters based 100% on real people.
Ray and Carol Shotwell moved into my hometown of Van Horn, Texas, when I was 15. I immediately liked Ray. He was extremely funny and playful and his wife Carol was always kind and a definite straight-woman to Ray’s joking personality. Looking back, I can’t believe I only lived in the same town with them for 3 years. It feels as if I’ve known them forever.
Ray and Joe King, our pastor, were the recipients of several practical jokes at the hands of our youth group. They gave back, too. The water balloon incident I tell in my novel is completely true. Instead of Cecelia locking the door to keep me and my friends out, it was Mom. When I told them about my book, Carol asked if I included the time my friend Darla and I broke into Ray and Carol's house and sewed up the legs of Ray's bermuda shorts. I didn't. :) We got in so much trouble for that.
I emailed Carol and Ray last week and asked them if they liked my novel. In response, they called me.
During our over-an-hour chat, I sat back in a chair and got comfy, as if I was going to watch a long movie. Even as I did it, I thought, “This is new. For a phone call?”
But oh my goodness, hearing their Texas twangy accents, listening to them tell stories and laugh and catch me up on everything, took me home. Home like sitting in the kitchen while Mama worked on hamburger gravy for supper. Home like watching Daddy varnish fiddles and smelling the sweet tang as my eyes followed his hands of expertise. Home like I felt when I got on the phone with my folks, laughing and crying.
Ray and Carol aren’t old enough to be my parents, but they talk to me as if I was theirs. They’ve never had kids, but they’ve parented and guided many, including me. At one point in the conversation I said, “I think I’m on Facebook too much.” Carol immediately said, “Yes, you are, Robbie.”
I laughed so hard. It sounded exactly like what Sally Ann Floyd would say to me.
They loved my book and ended our conversation telling me they loved me like I was their own. I hung up and started bawling. I miss my folks, but I wasn’t crying out of grief. The tears fell because with one phone call I’d travelled home. It was a time of teenage angst and pranks, of dreaming and teaming up with my cohorts. A time when I discovered the joy of Jesus. Ray and Carol played a major role back then and so to hear their voices took me back, like a certain smell will remind me of our old house on Summer Street or a Bee Gee’s song will take me back to the Van Horn Community Center.
I told John about it all and we are going to take a trip sometime to Humble, Texas where Ray and Carol now live. I want to reconnect in person and hug their necks. I also want them to meet my boy, 15 year old Noah. I will present him to them like I’m showing my report card with all A’s to my folks. He and Ray will be fast friends, I’m sure.