God Wears Combat Boots

I didn’t make it to church this morning.  I wish I had.  I have the absolute BEST church family and I always feel better when I can see these precious friends, hear God’s word, and listen to the song praises.  There were years in which I never, ever thought I’d say those words again, but I can say them now and truly mean them.  In fact, there were years in which I could not even step foot inside a church without becoming an emotional wreck. The trigger for me was seeing a Mommy and a Daddy come down the aisle with three little children.  That would remind me of the early years of my marriage when church and God were such a huge part of my life.  All church activities were a very important part of our lives. Then, after a number of years, life happened.  My ex and one of the deacons had some type of feud and we no longer went to church.  Even mentioning going caused big fights and there was enough to fight about without bringing that up, so I stopped.  I shouldn’t have.  I should have been adamant about the kids and me going, but I was trying not to purposefully be defiant.  I was tired of fighting.  Going to church should have been something I was willing to fight for, though.  Looking back at a timeline of the failure of my marriage I guess I should go back to that period of time.  Kind of one of those “should have been a clue” things, you know?  (And I’ve had a LOT of those “should have been a clue” moments in my life!!)  But, I didn’t, and in the end, the dissolution of the marriage was a good thing.  A very good thing.  Not for my kids, but a good thing for me and my sanity.  Turning my back on God was not.  And I did turn my back on God.  I couldn’t understand why God had let so many terrible things happen to me.  My childhood, the last 10 years of my marriage, the jury-trial divorce from Hell, and the following years of self-condemnation — I thought they were all God’s fault.  I now realize they weren’t.  He was always there; I just wasn’t willing to turn myself over to Him.

So, again today, I let myself NOT go to church.  I’ve been having terrible headaches lately, but they are a funny kind of headaches.  Headaches normally hurt all over your head, but with these, there is a straight line that runs from the inner edge of my left eyebrow straight up to the top of my head and the pain radiates from there.  I’ve noticed this for about the last six weeks or so and have been told they are migraines, but these seem to be different.  Sometimes it’s just a very noticeable ache right there along that imaginary line and then there are headaches like I’ve had since last night.  I swear there is a tiny little unemployed coal miner who has moved in.  He has a pick-axe that he is using to try to dig his way out.  And he is digging in a straight line.  I woke up about 4 a.m. with my head throbbing and finally around 6, I gave up, took a bite of a sleeping pill, and went back to bed.  I woke up about 5:30 p.m.  The unemployed coal miner has laid down his pick-axe, but all the bone that he chipped away at still feels funny.  You know, it’s like you are just very aware that part of your forehead exists.

I just realized that this is kind of funny.  I had a major ear problem years ago and had extensive ear surgery.  Since then, I’ve claimed that there is a little unemployed musician who lives in my head who blows a horn 24/7.  I totally understand why he is unemployed; this dude could never be in a band because he knows only one note and he blows it loudly.  Now, I’m claiming there is an unemployed coal miner living in there who is trying to dig his way out. I’m also totally aware of the fact that there are a number of other unemployed beings who live in there and they are constantly talking to me about my faults.  Dang; get a job, guys! Leave me alone.   And, of course, there’s God.  God is also living in my head, constantly saying, “Come to me.”  No wonder I’m having headaches — my head is just too darn full of funny little unemployed men living in there.  Someone has to go!

I do know that God’s been working on my lately.  Anyone who has been sitting near me at church is aware of the fact that God’s working on Betty.  I’m sure that they see the visible beam of light straight from Heaven to the seat on my pew.  You often hear people talk about having their toes stepped on in church.  Well, my toes aren’t involved this time; God’s been stomping on my feet and He’s wearing Combat Boots — the songs, the prayers, the sermons, the prayers, the hugs, the whispers in my ear, the prayers — they are ALL for me.  These are all pounding me with messages from God.  “Let it go, Betty.  Come to Me. You are worthy.  Let me carry your burdens.”  I hear those words, loudly and clearly, and I still struggle.  I get right to the edge where I am ready to say, “Here they are, God. Take them” and that awful unemployed demon in my head who tells me I am not worthy and that everything is my fault pulls me back.  I pray that I can overcome these thoughts. Perhaps our politicians are correct on this one thing — people need jobs!  Get these unemployed demons, the unemployed coal miner, and the unemployed musician some jobs!  In the meantime, don’t give up on me, God, I am trying.

So, that’s been my Sunday.  A Sunday in which all the unemployed little men – and God – are working overtime.  Now I need to get busy and do something so that today is not a total waste of time.  Maybe I’ll just go get Bella her Sunday night salad from Zaxby’s.

THOUGHTS ABOUT MY THOUGHTS: I have entirely too much going on in my head.  It’s hard to concentrate on anything.

TODAY’S FEELINGS BAROMETER: Headache, tired, sad, nervous.

~~~ Betty 

 

Author: alightatthetopofthehole

A mother, a grandmother, a retired teacher, a sister, a daughter, a friend, and a troubled soul. A woman working on understanding her depression and finally overcoming the feelings of inadequacy, emptiness, failure, and not being whole.

4 thoughts on “God Wears Combat Boots”

  1. I completely disagree with the sentence that starts, “Not for my kids…”
    Your last 10 years of hell were my first 10 years of hell. I don’t remember a time when my life was not full of terror in that house. My only escape was the woods where I would wander for hours with my dogs until you blew the car horn for me to come out and back to the house. I dreaded hearing that horn. It meant it was time for him to be home.
    The best thing you ever did for me was get me out of that house.
    I love you and send me some little unemployed men…I got some yard work for them.

    Liked by 1 person

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