Dear inconsiderate people everywhere...

Dear Inconsiderate People Everywhere,

I realize that somewhere along the line you have broken and re-created all the rules to fit yourself. While I applaud your efforts to take care of yourself and not care what others think, you have crossed the line. 

Today, when I was on the plane, I know you thought you were the only mother with a screaming child and so you used the portable DVD player to play a movie out loud rather than putting headphones on your child. I realize how difficult it must be to keep your child calm but please be mindful of the elderly man sitting nearby who really needs to sleep while your child is watching an action movie turned all the way up. Also, I realize you believe I have no input because I, myself, am not a biological mother but I work with kids everyday and sometimes I'm mom to them. I think about what it would be like to make sure they were comfortable. Therefore, I do understand your plight but hope that you will take a moment to think about how comfortable (or uncomfortable) you are allowing the people around you to be.

To the college boy behind me in line at Panda Express- I don't know who you think you are talking to whoever you were talking to like that. But it's rude. If it was a parent who is paying for a room at your destination, I kind of hope you don't sleep the whole week because you regret the way you treated the person who has taken care of you your whole life. Oh it wasn't your parents-- honestly, have some respect for yourself and talk to people as if they are humans, not people who are below you on your invisible scale. 

To the kids in lines everywhere who keep talking back to the adults you're with, please get on your knees daily and thank God you don't have me or anyone like me as a teacher. And furthermore, in anguish, thank God that you don't have us as parents because the consequences would be more than just a dirty look that you already got from me anyways. I have nothing else to say about that. 

To the people who yell at people or look down on people who don't speak English (or don't speak English well)-- Please stop. And also stop making assumptions based on their accent or the way they look. Those are my kids and their families and they are respectful and kind and most of them are working hard and going to school. And if you have a major problem with it-- next time you go to another country, don't speak English at all because you should learn their language the first day like you expect people in America to. 

And to those of you that still think you are always better than everyone else?? I have three words for you-- NO ONE CARES. You're not and you're not the exception while everyone else is the rule. Your ridicule and mistreatment of people is annoying and I'm really over it. 

Also, I don't feel good and I'm in the airport waiting impatiently and it seemed like a good time to rant a bit. I haven't done this in a while. I wish to somewhat apologize for my tone but also wish to get my point across and let this serve as a reminder to myself that it is not about me. Nor is it you. 

Thank you. 

Sincerely, Melissa 

I'm in- the Power of Vulnerability

I was sitting on the front row, somewhat singing, somewhat thinking, somewhat planning, somewhat praying and somewhat scared. The steps to the stage seemed a little bit higher and a little bit scarier when it was me who was about to tell my story. My notes seemed insufficient and the microphone on my ear felt like it would shut down in the middle of me talking or that someone would hear me singing and insecurity creeped in like a roaring lion. Ready to devour me... and then the song was over and the singer was praying and I was nonchalantly walking onto the stage feeling scared out of my mind but appearing to have myself together pretty well.

I looked out on a crowd of 300 women that I had been looking at all weekend. I had already been on stage but to share my own personal story and not a generic Gospel that is easier to hide behind, but a personal one, made it quite different.

I started speaking and always feel surprised to be at the center of attention but for Heaven's sake, I had, myself, walked up onto the stage and began talking so I shouldn't really be surprised when all eyes are on me.... isn't that the point of the stage? Ummm, yeah, so about that. Also, this was not my first rodeo, I have spoken in different arenas including when I used to do pep assemblies in middle school for 1300 kids so the crowd wasn't a shocker... I think it was the fear of being judged, the fear that I wouldn't say something well, or the fear that no one would get me... that no one would or could understand me.

Isn't that the lie of the enemy? Yes, yes it is. And in the worst way. The crazy thing about depression, isolation, and being an introvert is that Satan knows how to play that game very well... and in my isolation, I begin to feel loneliness, separation and great anxiety. I shared stories of Africa, stories of my mountain, stories of forgiveness and mutual disagreement, stories of my own feelings and the gratitude my heart is full of for God rescuing me from the pit of depression, a terrible thought life, and many other pits that I, myself, normally willingly run to. At the end of speaking, I walked off the stage and cried. Literally cried, cried, cried. Thank you Jesus for sweet women and stand-in moms and sisters who grabbed me and hugged me and spoke DEEP, SWEET Words of life into my rundown soul. I cannot even begin to describe the Truth that was told to me in those moments. After all was said and done, and the weekend event was over and we were all packing up to leave-- a sweet sister walked to me with tears in her eyes and just said, "I get it." She didn't need to say anything else... NOTHING. Those three words were enough to remind me to tell Satan to go back to where he came from and leave me the heck alone. I stood and cried with her and hugged her neck and committed to pray for her... I have to be honest and say, I don't remember her name but I do remember her tear-ridden eyes. And I have prayed against the enemy for her all day and for Jesus to continue to rescue her over and over again.

Earlier in the week, when Vanessa sent me a message that said, "God's telling me you need to do the closing session," I felt full and real and ready and leading up was more difficult than to be expected. After was much more difficult and I'm sure the coming weeks will prove to have many hardships of their own. There will be many mountains, there will be many pits, there will be many moments of pain and brokenness but I serve a God who is a wild rescuer and pursuer and He will not leave me there. 

As I walking out of the main room for the weekend, I met Michelle who hugged my neck and said... "You tell me when you feel like you're in. Send me a text that says, 'I'm in' and I will hit my knees for you." That's why we get real. That's why we're vulnerable. That's why we're authentic.

Your story means something. Your story does not isolate you or separate you from everyone else. Your story is personal but it is real. Tell it. It doesn't have to be on a stage and it doesn't have to be in a big group. We need each other desperately and the only way for us to know how much we do is to get real. As the little girl on an insurance commercial says to the insurance man talking to her mother at their doorstep, "Use your words!" I dare you. Use your words and let someone step in on your behalf and ask Jesus to do something bigger than what you're experiencing.

You are not alone and you have not been left. Your story serves a great purpose in the big story of Jesus. Use your words my sweet friend and do not allow yourself to become trapped in a pit of isolation. It is our rescue from those pits that remind us we need each other. 

I dearly love each of you and am praying that God removes a spirit of fear and empowers you with boldness and bravery to be real.
-Melis