Why I Blog (a guest post)

I am pleased to feature a guest writer in this space today, a woman who is still learning what it means to live in *Freedom*--trusting in God's Grace. 

Stories in Caryn Poling's life give evidence that He uses All. For. Purpose. 

His Grace is wider than we could ever imagine, and when we catch glimpses of His Amazing Hand in our lives, we're unwrapping miracles of hope. 

I appreciate Caryn's story-telling today, the courage she has been given, and the faithfulness of Our Father. Might this speak to your heart... 

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A Guest Post by Caryn Poling, writer of A Disposable Woman

When Amy invited me to guest post she asked a question, “How has Grace showed up in your life to live in freedom--what does *Freedom* look like for you?”

As I thought and prayed about this what kept coming to mind is “Why I Blog.”  

I have always enjoyed writing, putting word to paper.  

At one time in my life I had the thought of writing fiction. I even started a book once, but never got past the second chapter. I did, however, write a children’s story, but that was accidentally deleted. That in a nutshell was my writing career.

Until I blogged.

In early 2010, I went through some changes and I was having what felt like a mid-life crisis of sorts. I had started back to school and changed jobs. To top that off, my daughter--who is in the Navy--was newly married, and stationed in San Diego. My parents, who always lived now more than a mile or two away, were suddenly living 50 miles away from me.

Even though I was a believer at the time, I was living my life on my own terms--I didn’t need Anyone.

I decided that the *fix to all of this,* I would to find a man and get married.

I joined a popular online dating service, and all I found were guys that loved to give compliments and were mostly after one-thing. I was sad, lonely and a bit depressed, so all those compliments were music to my ears, as I was also very self-conscience of my appearance and weight. 

Attention from men made me feel good, but that was not what I needed. Attention didn't fill the hole in me. School didn't fill the hole. Work didn't fill the hole.

I did some really dumb things early that year--one was quitting my job with out finding another.

On Palm Sunday of 2010, I went to church and I gave my life back to God. And everything has been *wonderful and rosy.*

Hardly. 

To put it plainly--I was a mess, and I still am.

Even though I was in school and had home work, it did not take that much time. I was board out of my mind. I was not working, and I couldn't find a job. 

I also had guilt and regret--a past I could not get past. 

God put the thought of a blog on my heart. Gently, He gave me the title through a Max Lucado book. My first post was written in my head weeks before it hit the computer screen.

None of this made any sense to me at the time. Why on earth would I want to put my life’s mess out there for someone to read? And then I thought, No one is going to read this, so why not.  But just in case someone did, I kept it anonymous--no name and no pictures.

On May 7, 2010, *A Disposable Woman* appeared in bloggy world. 

With each post, I felt a release--I started to understand grace, and I started to see His Hand more, and more in my life.

As the year went on, my posts became less about me and what I had done, and more about Him and what He was doing.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
   your works are wonderful,
   I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
   when I was made in the secret place,
   when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. (Psalm 139:14-15-NIV)

God made me--He knows me better than I know myself.

He knew that by sharing my story I would find forgiveness and freedom from my past. You see, I could not see or understand grace until I could forgive myself.   

The first comment I received on a blog post really scared my out of my socks--some one was reading this! It read…

  “I have read just a few of your early, first blog posts. Boy can I relate. My stories of being disposed of started at 14. I have always blamed myself. I praise God for His protection through many dangerous situations I got myself into. My heart so connects to yours. I just want you to know you are not alone.”

And, just recently I received an email that said…

“…found your blog and I was so set *free* by what you had written! I give Jesus all the Glory and Praise for setting me free today...through the words He gave you to share for others and me on your Blog today, and everyday!”

I wept uncontrollably.

I could never have guessed that my life--my story--could be used this way.

All my days I want to follow Him, Jesus, Lover of my Soul!

I have just within the past couple of months claimed my blog--added a name and a face. I wanted all the Glory to go to God, and that was my excuse to be nameless and faceless, but the truth was, I was still ashamed.

There is no reason for shame. 

I am free.
I am forgiven.
I have Grace.

A very smart man said to me recently, “It’s not where you’ve been, but where you’re going that’s important.”

That’s Freedom!

  

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Join the A {Grace} full *life* facebook community page.

Purpose for the seasons

I wonder where my place is where I've been planted.

How can I bloom {here}, Father?

I'm reminded of a woman I know, who knows a woman who is quite possibly facing death earlier than we are.  The woman who is not quite my friend - who is my son's friend's mother - makes me remember that only God knows.  She tells me the story of a woman's recent challenge, and asks me what the community I work within can do to help this woman -  ill with bone cancer in her early 40s.

{I gasp and remember that I'm not immune from this tragedy striking my family.}

I feel insignificant in a huge world of cancer.

All I can think to do is mention this to my boss - a vice president at the educational institution where I work as a development officer - and he responds that he and his colleagues are "on it."  They have connected with one of the college's board members whose wife works at one of the world's premier cancer centers, and she connected with one of the top physician's in the category of treatment the cancer-poisoned woman needs for hope.

An appointment was granted and a family's life changed.

I just-so-happened to literally jump in a car this weekend with the woman who made the connection at her place of employment - the hope-giving woman.  This woman and her husband, the chair of our campaign, are financially wealthy.  Like, really rich. And yet, they still have heart.  They are {really} rich in kindness.  We were at the same event and catching a ride up College Hill to another event during the college's Reunion Weekend.

I was glad for the community I am a part of, and even more grateful when I turned around to meet her acquaintance and thanked her for making that connection for the family.

And I realized that I truly am connected to this community.  My roots are planted here.  I was married here.  My grandfather attended this fine academy.  I was raised in this town.  I left and returned to this special place.

My job - developing relationships with alumni to make financial gifts for others to have the same opportunity - inspires hope.  I am connected to hope.  I tell stories of lives changed through the generosity of scholarship, and I bloom hope that gifts are used for purpose.  I tell meaningful stories that inspire.

"I was happy to do it...and truly, it was easy," was what the {ever so warm} generous woman said in response to the connection she made with an esteemed physician and to her influence in a family's story of hope.

Though it was "easy," she still did it.  She could have looked the other way.  She could have said that she doesn't make connections like that, or for these types of people - who happened to be faculty members at the academy where her husband attended and now serves, and where they both give of their time and money.  She didn't have to do it.  But she did.

I run this morning and pass several houses with planters newly lined with rich soil and beautiful flowers.  I wonder how I can bloom here.  This story comes into my heart and my mind.

One woman bloomed *hope* with making a connection.  I can bloom hope by telling the story.

And my gratitude expressed to that rich-in-kindness-woman may have let her know that people were connected to the story, and that she did make a difference.

All along my run I hear the words - bloom where you are planted.

Our roots stretch deep and wide - across the world wide web, across social classes, across professions, across countries, across hearts made by Him.

He plants us in people's lives for reasons and seasons.  
There is great purpose in His planting.  
And we honor Him when we notice.

I pass several people on my run this morning.  One man in particular gets me to notice.  I see him often and always wonder why he doesn't reciprocate a friendly hello.  And today, he responds to my cheerful "Morning!" and a smile.

*Hope* blooms when he smiles and says "Good morning!"  I am stricken with humility.  Yes, it is a good morning, indeed!  It's not just {duh!} morning, it's a good morning.

More flowers.  More reminders to bloom.

Another runner gets me to notice.  I {sort of} know her.  She is ten years younger than me and my Groom has suggested that I get to know her.  I wonder the benefit would be given our age difference.  I shirk at the thought and wonder why she'd be interested in me. Self-pity.  

And this morning when she smiles all cheerful at me, I am reminded of a woman - now my friend - who I met on our two-year-journey to a different land with wide open spaces for me to grow - and how we both learned about blooming where we are planted, and of being transplanted.

This friend is ten years older than me.  We have hopes for our family that together pret' near sum up  *impossible*.  Yet, we have faith in what we've been told.  We grow - we bloom - from our roots being crossed and now weaved together.  I pray for her this morning and proclaim His truths and how He will fulfill what He has promised to us both.

The end of my run draws near and it all comes together now.  I think of the woman who is not quite my friend - the mother of my son's {best} friend - and how I've wondered what the point is in getting to know her now that I know that she and her family are moving.

Again, I'm stricken with humility.  There is purpose.  

I've been connected to a story and her life-roots weave with mine, and with so many others, and our lives are touched because of it.  We grow.

We bloom grace and beauty, love and purpose.  

There is purpose for the beauty of the seasons, even though they are brief.  

Our roots stretch down low and deep, wide and far.  And I'm a part of the story.  I'm connected.

There's purpose in my telling you this story, and in my writing it.  I see the Truth splashed about.

Father, God, help us to bloom - to say yes, when it's hard and even when it's easy.  Inspire us to obey your calling for our lives.  And, help us to honor you where we're planted.  


            

Our roots He grows

A new day dawns bright on the horizon and I am in awe of His grace.

The connections I've made through writing in this space - this corner of the internet world - has brought me closer to Him.  And I see that yes, He is even here.  He meets us where we are, and today we're all a part of the ever changing technology.

I've had several conversations over the weekend about how we're asked to bloom where we're planted, and how we can have a tendency to think we need to be everywhere - especially after seeing other places, or having tasted another world's struggles.

When we drink in a neighbor's pain we can think it's our own.  And then we look the other way because it's just too much.  Instead, we think (often impersonally because of our limited experiences) of the children without clean drinking water, and we remember that we've heard there are people out there (somewhere) without food to eat.

And yet, still, we think it's not our place to encourage {our friends}.

Children here in this country are over-done, over-cooked, over-fed, over-played, over-given.
 (Yes, I know this isn't grammatically correct, but stay with me a bit.)

We've out-done our giving.  And we're hurting each other.  Too often I've seen the more convenient choices made because it's...well...convenient.  For. Us.

Obesity is a reflection of the drive-thru dinners...the *rewards* or treats for good behavior...too many activities and not enough time to slow down and play...staying up too late to soak up way more of a day than is necessary (or just so parents can do one more thing, or go to *just* one more place)...too long of a day in front of the television or playing video games...or too much stuff given.  And yet, folks are continuing to give more than is necessary and over-do it.

(And then we wonder why children are misbehaving or not paying attention - not thinking that perhaps it's all just too much.)

We're finding it all entertaining, too.  Television shows are highlighting people's mistakes and indulgences, and then going the complete opposite way with compulsive behaviors and addictive responses as the only way to combat what they've done to themselves.

We watch television shows and become a part of the obsession.

Again, I think - we have neighbors who could use a little encouragement, and we're finding every excuse not to help.  We're being entertained, over-indulged, over-rewarded and we're neglecting our own *now*.  Because *the now* is where our story blooms beauty as a part of His story of grace - not just sitting back and letting someone else do the living for us.

We try to squeeze the most out of our schedules, our wallets, ourselves - but what about our hearts?

With the dawning of the day I ask my Father what He'll have of me today.  And these words have poured out.  I ask Him for grace to love my family as they need to be loved, and for Him to be the mortar that holds us together.  Fill in the gaps my own inabilities leave behind, Father.  And use me today for where you've planted me.  

Again I think of how I tend to think the job - my responsibility - should be bigger than it is.  I wonder if what I know in my heart should be applied to my actions.  And then He reminds me - it isn't my job to save the world.  It's my job to bloom where I've planted.  

Sometimes He transplants us.  And sometimes our roots extend far beyond our little homes and communities (like this space here has done for me).  But still, it's where He sends us that is important and we need to focus on that.

Where has He planted you and how far do your roots extend?  You'll never know.  But you'll also never bloom if you keep yourself limited to an egg carton on your kitchen shelf.  Let Him transplant you today, and let your roots grow deep into the soil of His story.

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Gratitude for Unwrapped *Gifts* of {Grace}...

...how He answers my questions...

...neighbors who help heal my wounded heart...

...His redirection of my focus to where He's planted me...

...how I see my roots extend far and wide, and remember His love is even bigger...

...the mystery of His purpose...

...how He loves me...

...this space here and the connections I've made...

...encouragement...