Stop with the show already.

A few months ago, I began this journey of being INCREDIBLY honest. Those of you who know me well are wondering why I think this began then. I know, I have always had a gift (some would call it a challenge) for telling the Truth and an extremely guilty conscience. When you have a guilty conscience, you just tell the truth. Period. Any time I've lied, I've completely known it. Do not think for a moment that my mind is ever in denial.

My family is known for exaggerating the truth. What was a small scratch on someone's knee all of a sudden becomes an amputated leg and arm when there was nothing wrong with their arm to begin with. At the point I realized how much I was literally straight up lying, I started telling these ridiculous stories, followed by, "Just kidding, that part didn't happen." I got some of the strangest looks and then I started doing it so much, I started getting laughter. After some time when I began to actually THINK (now there's an idea) before I would speak, it helped and I found myself (mostly) without this stupid, idiotic problem called being a liar.

All that to say, I'm making it a point to be honest. To be real with myself. It was interesting tonight in talking to my small group girls (who I love and adore) who are 8th, 9th, and 10th graders, that it is simple for us all to acknowledge our sin but it is difficult to forgive ourselves and accept grace because we believe we are so undeserving. As if Jesus's death on the cross wasn't actually enough.  Why do we believe this? Because we think our value and worth is dependent on what we do and not on the cross.

I would say that for the last few months, it has been a real challenge for me to stand in front of people and carry on "normal" conversations with people while talking about being depressed. I have been deeply ashamed and regret speaking up. Some people have made some terribly insensitive comments and suggestions but many (and most) others have been very supportive. Many identify with the struggle and are able to be honest because of what God is teaching me in walking in honesty and truth. It's amazing that hurt people hurt people but really, free people free people.

In the process, God opened my eyes and ears to hurting people around me everywhere. They began sharing and I shared even more. Students in my classes began telling their stories. I could say I've been there. Kids at church started doing the same and I was able to say, I've been there. There's just something about becoming honest that makes people want to be around you. I'm not saying I've got it all together and Jesus knows how much I can be no fun to be around. However, let's be real so that broken people realize they're not the only ones and we get down from our pride chairs and pay attention for a few minutes.

So stop with the show already. There's no need to pretend that we are something that we're not. Remember, free people free people... and I'm free indeed. I'm willing to be who I am without fear. 

Praying for more bravery and courage for myself and YOU! Melis

You. Know. Me. I. Myself. All of it.

On Thursday, I was sitting at In n Out Burger with Valerie. Valerie is a senior; I had her as an 8th grader. She is about to graduate, is figuring out what to do next, and is passionate. We spent 2.5 hours talking, laughing and telling stories. More than once, I repeated the phrase, "But God knows me well!" Boy, does he. Oh my. How he does. 

And I can't get over it. There's a song I was introduced to over a month ago called "You know me." (The link to the song is at the bottom of this entry.) I have cried and cried and cried multiple times listening to it. 

"And nothing is hidden from your sight.

Wherever I go, you find me.

You know every detail of my life.

You are God and You don't miss a thing."

Nothing. Not a thing.

Sometimes when I'm struggling, like this morning laying on my couch over thinking, God gently reminds me to breathe deep. He sees what's inside my mind. He knows what I need. He knows what I want. He knows every detail of the what, who, how and whys in my life. 

Every. Single. One. 

Every. Single. Time. 

He whispers into the chaos and he talks loud in the quiet. He memorizes me. My thoughts. The color of my eyes. The amount of hairs on my head. The hurts in my heart. The unforgiveness in my head. The calluses on my hands. The bruises on my knees. The bumps on my elbows. The crookedness of my feet. He knows. 

I find a deep comfort in that. To know that I am confiding in One who knows everything already but still wants to talk to me. One who still provides CPR when I can't breathe. One who still hears the pulse of my heart. One who still asks what I'm passionate about. One who opens doors. One who urges kids to talk to me and for me to listen. One who still allows me to be a mom. One who still urges me to stand up for myself. One who still gave me a voice to speak for those who can't. And those who won't. 

That is the One who knows me. Deeply. Tenderly. Compassionately. Mercifully. Beautifully. Graciously. 

He knows you too. What do you still want to tell Him? 

"You memorize me." -Melis

http://youtu.be/cVVlMQved8k

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

My Mountain.

Sunrise Mountain, eastern Las Vegas

On Friday afternoon, I posted this picture.

I was literally falling apart. 

I know this is hard to believe but if you don't remember from before, I am so good at telling the truth an incredibly awesome liar. Before you jump to all the conclusions that you should, hear me out. I make people believe what I want them to believe about me. That often includes covering up what's really going on with me, which is usually a lot, because I process 90% of what I experience internally. The only time I process things externally or verbally is that 10% so let's talk about what a rare occasion that is. VERY rare. So my Facebook world thought I was experiencing a mid-life crisis. Welcome to my world. I felt like I was. Sometimes when we feel things, it makes them very true. Sometimes it just means I'm being irrational, overdramatic and very emotional. I believe that my boiling point on Friday was D. All of the above.

Last week was just emotional, lots of heartache, sad and hurt feelings, and a possible move of one of my absolute favorite kids of all time was my Friday. Needless to say, I was broken-hearted out the wazoo. I yelled at a student on Thursday because he interrupted me about 4 million times (so in reality, only about 40 times, which is still a lot-- FYI). After I yelled at him and I had calmed down, I was explaining to him why I was upset and told him that I wasn't mad at him, to which he replied, "I don't care if you're mad at me. I don't care." To which I cleared off every table in the room and then began jumping off of tables. To which I replied in anger, but also more hurt, that it didn't matter if I was his teacher anymore, my feelings as a person in his life were hurt, bottom line. He accused me of bringing up the past and that it was hurtful to him. Needless to say, my tears scared him and he was silent and a very good listener after that but it didn't matter because I WAS FINISHED talking. I left school in tears Thursday.

So starting Friday was not exactly a joy ride for me. I was a wreck. And when I say wreck, that is possibly the biggest understatement of the week. I was a ballistic, sobbing mess covered up with fake smiles and sarcastic jokes. After finding out that one of my kids faced a huge decision for himself and his family over the weekend, I was just outright heartbroken. Like I'm staring at the computer to pretend my allergies and staring problems are causing my eyes to water. I cried after school in my room by myself. I went and talked to a couple of other teachers and cried again. I called Vanessa in the car and cried again. I got off the phone and just kept crying so I decided to have McDonald's sweet tea and U-Swirl frozen yogurt for dinner. (Clearly, I make healthy decisions in emotional states.) We were having a school dance, which I was so dreading because that made a one million hour work day. (I'm also very good at math in emotional states.)

I had to go to Target/Dollar Store to grab some glow sticks for the dance and then decided that I probably need a few other items while there (emotional buyer, anyone?) aka I bought half of a new outfit because I was now crying and sweating profusely, and then felt utterly dehydrated. (Am I the only one that is literally a HOT mess like this?) On the way to Target, I looked straight up Bonanza in eastern Las Vegas to Sunrise Mountain and God began calmly speaking to me. He knows that I'm crazy in the head when I'm that emotional and therefore will not listen to a whisper and will ignore a shout. So He just started bringing up all this stuff in my head while I'm staring at this colossal giant of rock. I keep thinking, what does any of that have to do with this? I don't know how God makes connections the way He does, maybe because He is the best teacher of all time.

I lived next to Sunrise Mountain for a year with RaeLynn and Katie. It was a crazy and busy year for all of us but it was a change that I had needed to start over in a few areas of my life. I had spent the year before that a messed-up, messy mess and RaeLynn had been the encouraging friend who had constantly invited me to go places with her and meet new people. Invitations to which I refused all the time but I knew that her invitations meant she cared. She continued that throughout the following year when we lived next to the mountain. During that first summer, I had spent 6 weeks in Africa, had been stuck in an airport in the Middle East for 24 hours, and had gotten some type of weird throat sickness. I had lost weight the year before because I was depressed and refused to eat really anything that had any nutritional value or supplement for me and because I had been in Africa for 6 weeks. The year in the Sunrise Mountain house had allowed me to re-enter teaching with a best friend next door at school, while also rebuilding friendships because I had very few at that point. That year was an incredible restoring point that has followed me until now and so as God was speaking to me about the mountain. He reminded me that He can move a mountain whenever He so chooses but He sometimes leaves them there so I can trust Him more because He loves me enough to be patient with me while still chasing and healing my aching heart. That year moved a few mountains for me, with many more to come after, but it was fresh beginning. It was a redemptive act. It was nothing besides love.

God dearly loves to redeem my mountains. He walks me up and around, He hoists me to the top and lets me leave my baggage there, and then as I walk toward the valley, He walks ahead of me and sometimes carries me when I just do not have the courage or strength to do it anymore. He pushes me up the next mountain and walks beside me reminding me that He is with me and will not leave me. He leads when I ask him to. He is faithful to walk behind when I'm stubborn to run in front.

Today, I received a note that talked about how much this person wanted to give up but felt that "God keeps pushing me forward." I cried when I read that because I know how much I fight God sometimes to choose to give up and He keeps on and does not let up. 

Praying that He uses your mountain(s) to remind you of how dearly you are loved beyond comparison, how much He desires to use you where you are, and that even when you give up and run back down the mountain, He gathers you and throws you on His shoulders so you can also see what's up ahead. 

I get it. You're not alone. -Melissa

The deafening of insignificance.

There is something in all of us that says, "You are important! You are unique!" 

 

There is something inside of me (and many of you) that counteracts that with, "When will you be done with this? Why do you think anyone should ever listen to you? When do you think you'll be counted as significant? Do you really matter?"

In a world that is screaming, we are often found screaming as well, rather than stopping to listen or care or show kindness or be compassionate. I spend so much time focused on why people aren't listening to me that I too have stopped listening. Isn't it interesting the way that works?

In my begging to be made significant, I make others feel insignificant. If that is not selfish, I really don't know what is. 

I shut people out of my life because I am fearful to ask questions or be honest or just listen sometimes. I shut people out of my life before they have a chance to shut me out of theirs. Before I have the chance to be hurt, I hurt others. That is the making if insignificant people everywhere-- is it not?

I'm on a quest to make others feel significant. To let them know they matter. To let them know they, too, make a difference. 

This is something I'm willing to share so much that others will be deafened and have no choice but to be done or join in. 

Hoping you join me. Start now.

Tell someone in your life why they matter to you and deafen them with encouragement, honest talk and sweet significance. It will change your world. 

#bringiton2014

-M

Desperate but Overwhelmed.

I went into this weekend with lots of hesitation and the fear of what God would and could do.

On my flight back to Las Vegas from Michigan, I’m writing and thinking of the many moments that I had myself this weekend, while teaching and speaking. The only word I can think of to describe a weekend like I just had is “overwhelming.” When I left Africa and I came back to the USA a few years ago, it was the realization that everyone didn’t want to know every detail of my trip and therefore, I had to figure out how to describe the entire 8 weeks in one word and I used that same one: OVERWHELMED. ((So if that’s all you want to know, you can stop reading here J But I promise that the best is yet to come!!))

Isn’t that what happens when you’re in the presence of the Living God? Becoming overwhelmed?

Isn’t that what happens when our worlds get turned upside down, as one of the girls described it—‘sledgehammered’—and turned back over to the One we love most? Becoming overwhelmed?

I needed this weekend maybe more than any girl there. And not ironically at all, I think many of us felt that way.  It wasn’t the appeal of nature and her scenery or the appeal of speaking to a group of 50 college girls, although those things were definite bonuses. It wasn’t the appeal of travel or spending time with some sweet friends and their families, although those things were absolutely wonderful. I needed DESPERATELY for Jesus to speak into my very broken heart. I needed the questions they asked, and the reassurance that I wasn’t alone in this journey. I needed the encouragement and reminder of the significant life change that I too experienced as a college student. I want more Jesus in me. I craved Jesus then and I want to crave Him again.

In lunch lines, at breakfast tables, moving through small groups, and speaking and listening in large group sessions, I was constantly faced with the reality of my own wanderings and my own redemptions. I shared of my deep depression a few years back, anxiety attacks, and the forgiveness I walked through with a family I deeply admire. I shared of my fear of the unknown and my walking out on belonging to the church and barely showing up and the restoration God brought to me by placing me in co-leading a group of senior girls who LOVED Jesus well. I shared story after story of the way God has redeemed me by placing me with some of the craziest kids in Las Vegas both at Mack and now at Global.

One thing I know for sure: God continues to redeem my story and I have not arrived.

One thing I am sure of: I need to figure out what dreams I have and get moving. Starting now.

One thing I want: more of Jesus, less of me. More Him speaking and me listening. More Him reviving and me receiving. More grace and more response.

I knew there was something about 2014 that would blow my mind completely and I can’t even begin to think that this is all there is.

I am thrilled to be a part of what God is doing. He is worth it and I'm excitedly overwhelmed.

-Melis