Rocketgirl Three

Ephesians 2:10~ “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

Whose ever had their identity robbed...like a bank account or credit card?  It feels rotten and takes time and patience to sort out.  What about the premise and purpose that you came into this world with that our Heavenly Father sent you with? Have you ever felt robbed of it?

After cancer I will never be able to teach in a classroom full time again. Because of Chron's Disease and arthritis there are days this chick moves slow...like in slow motion slow.  It caused me a lot of tears and heartache when I realized I could never be a teacher in the way I once was.   I talked with my oncologist about going back to substitute teach and he axed that idea. The meds that I'm on have compromised my immunity for the rest of my life. 

Yeah, so what is a girl to do. I've known since I was five that I wanted to be a teacher. How do I answer about not earning what I once did.  How can I overcome feeling like a worthless slacker each day of my life? How do I stop my identity from being robbed?

 Every morning I wake up and declare victory on my day and ask God what should I do. I have to take some deep breaths afterwards. God has blessed me with a home where I have my art studio. He has blessed me with a spirit of courage to open my garage door and do a few art classes each month in my studio. He's challenged me and the limits of what I'll say yes to each time I go to South Dakota.

I think it's important in what we choose each day. Will I see the world through God's eyes? Or will I choose to be robbed? Do I look in the mirror to see the girl God calls his beloved daughter? Or do I see what the world roars as my identity? 

Since I came back from South Dakota it has been brutal to find my identity. Every day when I ask God what I should do I hear one word "write". Most days I crumble at the word. I know I can write but why that Lord? I'm a teacher did you forget? And, the response comes back as one word "write".

It hit me that I have been bogged down trying to interpret what "write" means. I stopped writing daily.  I've stopped writing in my journal in September.  I have been robbing myself of my identity as a writer. As I sit at the keyboard I say ; "I refute the feeling of oppression. I refute the ominous feeling I've had in my spirit since leaving South Dakota. I refute it all God and solely seek you".

Refute means to prove a statement or theory wrong or false. I found the word refute when my daughter, Emily, was diagnosed with epilepsy. She began having uncontrolled seizures at age 19. I use the word refute; "I refute Emily's seizures , I refute the diagnosis of epilepsy in Christ Jesus name and ask in Jesus name for Emily to be restored and healed". That has been my battle cry as a mom for six years.

I've never thought of the word refute for myself. There are bigger battles that people bear. Bigger challenges in the world that need the word refute. That is me being an identity thief. I've been thinking a girl that God sees as his beloved daughter isn't worthy of using the word refute for herself. We can be so darn busy fighting others battles that we forget our own. We forget who we are and our creator.

We each need to remember to take the sword that bears the name "refute" and slash what robs us of our joy, our praise, our own promise and purpose. We need to refute whatever lies we tell ourselves. God will prove them false.  Our statement is " I refute ____ in the name of Christ Jesus that calls me his beloved.  I am the daughter /son of the King of Kings and will not be judged by this world or taken out by it".

May each of us stop robbing ourselves. May our pace be slowed that we would be steady and methodical. That we would not be silenced with; fear, oppression, or distractions. That we would be the beloved children of the King.

Peace be with you- Sherry

UPDATES

• Emily will be seeing the neurological team in Columbia, Missouri at MU on November 8. They have evaluated her records and scans.  We are hopeful that they will be able to do surgery on Emily to stop her seizures.  Your prayers are appreciated.
• We will be going back to South Dakota the last week of this month.  We will be spending time at the Marty Boys and Girls Club doing art and checking in on our Wagner crew too.  We are taking donations of ; new socks & money to buy Takis chips for the Marty club. If you would like to donate to either please let me know. You can send cash donations for the chips on Venmo; Sherry-Snider-2. 

Rocketgirl Two

I'm sitting with my garage door open and praying on my neighborhood this morning and surrendering my own inadequacies to God.  As I sit here pondering I here the start of "Riders Of The Storm" by the Doors. I feel like I'm having a vision quest like Jim Morrison. I am ready for a Native American to walk on by. I laugh to myself because that could have happened last month in South Dakota but I'm back in Missouri.

I realize that I may be aging myself with these references but still the music persists in my head and keeps replaying.  I continue to try to pray over my neighbors, my ability to be light to them and the music becomes louder. I persist to keep praying and finally the music blocks me from my prayer and I start to write.

What's a vision quest? A vision quest is a supernatural experience where a person interacts with a guardian spirit that could take the form of an animal to get advice or protection. Geez, Sherry, I think you were on that reservation in South Dakota too long.  Let me explain or try to explain.  I felt like there are times when I hear or see things that God is laying out for me. I've done it since I was a kid. I actually write notes to myself with words, songs, or mental pictures.

I hear the crash of thunder from the beginning of the song and the rain that sounds thunderous in response. I feel the weight of what the world is pushing and pursuing on me, on the hubs, Emily, and Dale. It is enough to make me shriek in fear and run. Instead, I know I have to lift my arms up in total, absolute surrender not to the world but to our Heavenly Father. He has it all, he has me, he's got the hubs and our children. He will not allow his beloved children to flounder in a storm when they are meant to ride.

Yeah, like riders in a storm...good, one, Lord.  You knew it would take me until this afternoon to clarify the hippy dippy trippy images in my head. The fears that the world demands will devour each of us and we will be cast out alone.  Or is that just me? Is that just my fear of abandonment reeling it's ugly head like a rattle snake rattling and waiting to strike?

Before I can declare "victory" in Christ Jesus as I open my eyes in the morning I hear that dark refrain.  The refrain is ominous and rides into my thoughts, punches me in the gut, and kicks me. It is the wrestling of the giant that is the enemy.  As I type those words I am realizing part of why September is going to be so hard. I have to ride in the storm. Jesus, I'm a city kid with no horsemanship skills. I can barely get on a horse yet alone ride it, God. And, I hear that wonderful big booming laughter in my brain that tells me that I make the Lord roll in laughter. Then riders of the storm starts again....what is it with you, Lord, and that song today?

Lord, September has been a long trip and it isn't over yet.  I've resigned from places and experiences that I loved to pursue you, Lord. I've said "yes" when I could have said "no" to what I felt you wanted. September brings a storm of hurt, fears, and name calling. Those things that I hear in my head that the enemy presents on his silver platter "You are; stupid, worthless, no one wants you, no one needs you, be done with it already". I hand them back with "I am smart, capable, and I stand brave strong and true on the rock of Christ Jesus my Savior".

I took time to read about Riders of The Storm...thank you, google.  Lots of people have opinions. It was the last song that The Doors recorded before Jim Morrison died. Did I tell you that I've had this thing with Jim Morrison since I heard my first Doors song?  I loved the imagery, the metaphors, and the poetry of the songs. I read about Morrison and have books on his poetry which is as sketchy as my writing. Truth be told I feel a kinship somehow to Morrison because of his love of words and metaphors. The images I see help me opened my mind and connect with our Heavenly Father. The metaphors and words let me know that I'm not alone.

I think "Riders of the Storm" is in my head today because God needs me to know I'm not alone. That I am quirky which makes me different. My kids are quirky too. Did I mention that I found out that the hubs loves The Doors about 30 years ago? I think he must be a little quirky too.  I think the Lord is rallying my spirit today that I don't sit in the puddles of the storm. I don't hide in fear. I ride in the storm. I was designed with a different path.  That's why I see the world differently, talk in metaphors, draw, and write.

It occurs to my the song isn't Rider of the Storm but Riders. My heart melts thinking of the hubs, Emily, and Dale. We are riders and I sense that we aren't the only riders in this storm for this month at this particular time. There are others and I hear the word "limited supply"...what, Lord, like Aldis with their seasonal items?  The laughter rolls again with the words "few and far between, exquisite light, truth, and bravery". Ohh, God, you had me at exquisite.

Hoping this helps another....it has helped me.  Know whatever storm you are going through our Heavenly Father has your back, walks beside you, and lights your path.

Peace be with you- Sherry

UPDATES

• I started weekly infusions rather than do daily meds for the cancer nodules in my stomach. It was something I did before losing my health insurance and something that I've got to start back up.  
• Dale has two jobs working with two teams on research studies at Northwest. One will pay him. Not a lot but it will help him to be independent. 
• Emily went to her neurologist appointment. She started to have vertigo, have trouble walking and wasn't coherent when she was talking.  The good news is that it happened about 45 minutes before we got to Dr Seeley's office and continued during the appointment. 
• I was the sole advocate for Emily and we talked about surgery for her.  He is going to send her records and scans to KU for their evaluation to see if they can find what is happening in her frontal lobe. The good news is they do frontal lobe surgery at KU.  The scary news is that surgery is Emily's only hope of being seizure free. 
• After Emily's appointment the Sandymobile would not start.  It couldn't be jump started. There was a guy that was trying to help me when Ted got to the hospital. We had to get a new battery and are praying that was the cause of the problem. 
• We are behind in our house payments by a month and got a letter demanding $1,300 today by October 13. We will check with the bank to see if we can get a loan for the money to try to save our home. 
• Ted still have the lump in his prostrate. There is a co-pay for him to get an ultrasound so he's putting it off. 
• I'm going to call my brother for an update on my mom tomorrow. Continued prayers as we navigate to help her.  

Rocketgirl One

I'll admit it this morning I have Rocketman by Elton John in my head.  The beginning where the lyrics talk about packing up, kissing your loved ones, and heading out to space.  Last night I got I phone call from my brother about my mom. She is in the hospital and her health has vastly depleted over the course of the year. He found my mom on the couch, unresponsive, and called for help.  He shared that he thinks she needs more care than he knows how. I could hear what was unsaid in his voice.

I asked if I it was good for me to go to Des Moines and he told me no.  The lyric "it's gonna be a long, long time....long, long time because I'm a rocketman" is playing in the background as I write this and I'm completely in tears. 

I said to my brother "thank you for caring for her, David, thank you" and told him to call me anytime night or day to talk or discuss what to do or where to go next.  We talked about what he is doing and what I'm doing.  I told him about South Dakota this summer and he just laughed.  He knew the kid sister that was a city girl that went to the prairies of South Dakota as a kid.  I told him the vastness that I feel when I'm there.  Like I was meant to be there and he told me that he felt the same way. 

I talked about my kids and he said "Dale is the smart one that is going to be the brains of our family". As I type that I cry a little more. My dad once said "Sherry you are the smart one that will go places" and I never went further than Missouri.

I guess at this point I should give you some background about the family I grew up with.  There were four of us; my dad, my mom, my brother, and me.  I was close to both my parents. My dad died one week before my wedding and I still miss my confident that walked on this Earth. My mom and I were super close until a few years ago.  She exploded with anger and rage and accused me of things that weren't mine ....they were my dad's. Things that he had done. That happened each time I saw her. I thought she was angry and I was ok with being her punching bag.  If it helped my mom heal then so be it.  That wasn't the case.

Years ago after a blow up with my mom she called and wanted me to come and talk with her. I drove to Des Moines with my kids. I met my mom for lunch in Des Moines at her house. As they played outside she told me about her relationship with my dad.  She told me that she was going to divorce my dad but found out she was pregnant with me. What she told me left me feeling like a little girl that was scared and alone.

She told me that she never wanted me and that I ruined her and my brother's life.  That I should just stay away and they would and could be happy.  I completely fell apart inside. Through tears I loaded my kids in the car and drove back to Missouri.  Within two weeks I had a letter from my mom's lawyer telling to me cease speaking to her or coming within 10 feet of where she would be.

 A year after that meeting my daughter got a card for Valentines Day from my mom. My daughter had always been close to my mom so I let her open it. She found a note that said to tell her mom that grandma was having brain surgery and had cancerous masses in her brain. The rocketgirl was ready to zoom back to Des Moines to be there for her brother and mom.  I zoomed to the phone and my brother told me it would be best if I stayed in Missouri.  He would call me once the surgery was done.

That left me time to ponder. It made sense why my mom went off the deep edge. She had something in her brain causing her to lose her memories, right? Once the surgery was done she would be back to being my mom, right? Not really.  I've had letters I wrote returned, phone calls never returned and been told by my mom on the phone that she doesn't have a daughter. 

I am blessed that when I was diagnosed with cancer I wanted to talk to my mom.  The mom that raised me, helped me know Jesus, loved to read, and loved me.  I prayed for a week before I made that call.  Please God let me get the mom who loved me. I did get that mom who told me to fight, to do what the doctors say, and to not be her. 

The last time we met my mom and brother for pizza in Des Moines she whispered in my ear "I love you but don't come back". I haven't. There have been times I wanted to go see friends in Des Moines but don't. In my mind I hear "one side of town your dad is buried and the other side your mom doesn't want you".

With my mom it could be her health conditions, pent up anger, or old age that has caused a rif in our relationship or the things she told me at that lunch years ago were the truth.  It is the truth that I fear.  It has been something in my life that has been heartbreaking for me.

This summer in South Dakota I could feel September was going to be a hard month. Hard for our family and it is. I don't know what it is about South Dakota but my thoughts are free to connect with God. He prepped his beloved daughter and yet this morning I'm crying and surrendering it all to my creator, the one that calls me daughter, and whispers come back.

It's spurred me to write a few blogs on being a "rocketgirl" in hopes it will free my spirit and yours.  I mean who doesn't have a great relationship with their mom? I want to answer me but I feel God saying there are lots of them out there, child, you are not alone.

Peace be with you- Sherry

Updates:

• It's been a hard September and we are only two weeks in.  Here are some prayer requests for our family and some of the heartache beyond just my mom.  
• Dale returned to NWMSU and Emily stayed behind to live with us for a while longer.  We need to straighten out her loan situation and press forward with finding a solution to her uncontrolled seizures. 
• The hubs has numerous health concerns with diabetes.  He also found a lump two days ago and we are going to the doctor today. 
• I've put off weekly infusions this summer and have a consult with my oncologist next Wednesday.  
• Prayers for my ability to write a series of my experiences in South Dakota that could be published with proceeds going to my church family in South Dakota.  
• Prayers for my mom that she would have a day or more of absolute clarity where she is the mom that my brother & I grew up with. My brother needs to find paperwork about her insurance and other matters. If she had a good day she could show my brother where all the paperwork is and answer questions for him.  
• I start art classes in my art studio next week.  I'm hoping that I can be a consistent wave of hope, light, and grace in our community through art.  
• I will be starting an artsy bible study on Monday nights 7-8:30. We will watch a short video, talk, write notes of praise and prayer requests, and then work on artsy junk journals. Please come, invite others and spread the word...its a freebie night of creativity and faith. 

  

...praying

....praying


Yes, that is what I wrote to my missionary friend in Japan.  He'd posted to pray over the kiddos as they head back to school. In my head I thought, really, that's it, Sherry ?  My mind was busily thinking about writing a blog over the words "you really like me".

Hmm, maybe it was a reminder of whom I've been.  I've been that kid that felt like nothing is working and I'm checking out.  I was in eighth grade.  My family life was a mess and I felt like my only way out was to die. It hit me as I typed praying that is the kid in Japan that I'm praying over.  The kid that has no voice and no words for the sadness that reaps their joy.  The kid that believes the darkness of death would be better than walking in the light.

It hits me as I write that's not only in Japan. That is here in Pleasant Hill where I live.  I'm sitting north so that's for the kids that are in Blue Springs, Lee's Summit, and KC.  Then my mind goes further north to the kids in South Dakota that I know and those that are unknown.

The vastness of it...ohh, Lord, just bubble wrap each child, each student, allow your light and goodness to sink in where there feels there is only darkness. ROAR like a lion over them, break the spell that has been cast over them that it would shatter, crumble, and be blown away never to take root in another child or adult that walks the Earth.

Today is not a day to write about being liked by God but about what it looks like to feel unliked and unloved by Him. Today is a day to break the cycle and to pray over people; child & adult in a resound battle cry to our Heavenly Father; "ROAR".

ROAR is the cry I use for myself that encourages, surrounds, and surpasses my understanding. It instantaneously rallies peace in my heart, mind, and spirit.  It allows me to see a speck of light in the vastness of darkness until daybreak. ROAR, DADDY, ROAR.

Amen...peace be with you

Sherry

PS

The pic is the cubbies that line the hall leading to the Boys And Girls Club in Marty South Dakota.  The kids had helped carry in what they said was "The Marty Mall" with bins of shoes & clothing & socks we brought with us.  I snapped this pic before we left Marty that afternoon to remind me that God always sees the way before me all I have to do is say "yes".  I may not have met all the Marty kids this trip but I'm hoping to meet more in October.

In October I would like to take Takis ; its chip the kids love in Marty.  If you would like to order some Takis via Walmart or Amazon and have them delivered to South Dakota let me know. I'll give you an address.

One In A Million

For God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power, love, and sound mind. Timothy 1:7

"I didn't want some quiet quirky sensitive girl" those were the words my husband told me a couple of weeks ago. My response to him as simple. "That's who I was from the beginning until the world changed me. Until I compromised to make everybody else happy.  And, I'm sorry I can't be who God didn't design".

His words hurt me so much that I internalized them.  He had poked fun of me in small ways that felt like little daggers all day.  I finally said "Stop picking on me. It hurts my feelings". Usually I'd laugh along, let it go on, and just be the funny, sassy, soul that he married & it would appear that all is well.  Appearances are deceiving.  Wounds that the world inflict run deep, fester, and swell. Normally, I would put the day in the nothing box. Instead, I felt prompted to write this blog.

I call it my nothing box.  It is a small box of memories of worldly wounds that I keep in my head. I don't open the box and leave it as a nothing box. Filed in the box is every playground taunt, every rejection, feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness, abandonment, and hurt that was left rather than spoken about.

In this series on transparency I've shared part of my life from the nothing box. What has left me speechless, vulnerable, and without words.  The last of this series is how I became one in a million and yet felt unworthy.

One in a million sounds like being something awesome, right? It is something that makes you special or unique. It's a landmark for the world to ogle at your splendor, aptitude, demise, or defeat.

I had a bone graph on my left arm as a kid. The surgeon and my parents had feared what was making my left humerus bone not grow at the same pace as my right was cancer.

The surgery took longer than anticipated. The surgeon discovered that what was taking up bone mass was not cancer but an inflated blood vessel that was taking over bone mass.  My humerus bone was egg shell thin. He took bone chips from my right hip and put them in the humerus. When he found out that my arm had never been broke only a sprain once when I was in kindergarten. My surgeon said that the type of ballooning of the blood vessel happens to one in a million patients and that I was the first he had seen and probably the last of his career.  My surgeon  told me "God has been watching out for you, Sherry, you are one in a million kid".

I wore the title "one in a million" with pride while I was in the hospital. My arm was fragile and there were all sorts of contraptions to keep it in place to heal. It was three months before I started physical therapy to learn how to walk again on my own. It took six months before I could be out of the contraptions and to start limited physical therapy.  Even then I wasn't allowed to raise my left arm. That would take a few more months of physical therapy.

I stayed in the hospital in Iowa City for so long that my dad had to go back to work. My mom stayed with me, advocated & encouraged me. My dad brought my homework to me on weekends. Finally the day came when I was able to go home. The medical team packed me with a new contraption for the car ride and foam egg crates all around me so that I wouldn't move.

It felt unreal being away from my friends and school for the most of the school year.  I wasn't allowed to go back to school because even the smallest nudge on my left arm could undo the fragile surgery & cause a break.  I did my homework from home, stayed on the couch, and couldn't walk anywhere not even to the bathroom without someone there. My mom or dad would write my answers on my homework because I wasn't able to write with the contraptions for my left arm that I wore. At night they wrapped me up in more contraptions and the foam egg crates so that I wouldn't move my left arm in my sleep.

I knew I was one in a million.  I had medical proof of it.  I felt sheltered, shut down, and really alone. I couldn't write or draw. Writing and drawing was how I let out my emotions even as a kid and it was taken. My mom said she would write for me in my journal. My journal was mine. It was a place for my thoughts and emotions to flow without anyone seeing them. She bought a new journal for me and wrote small things for me but I couldn't really tell her everything that I wanted to write. My mom loves me but she isn't artsy and she couldn't draw out what I was feeling.  I was silenced until I could finally be free of contraptions and have limited use of my arm which took months.

People would ask what happened to me.  It made me the center of attention for my scar not for who I was.  I was a quiet kid and it forced me to talk, answer questions, and have kids and adults doubt my story was true. I stopped wearing tank tops & sundresses as a kid so no one would see the scar. No one would see that I was different. I didn't want to be different from everyone else. I didn't wear a tank top until I was in my thirties.

Those thoughts of a fifth grade girl melted me into being a guarded for most of my life to try to keep me from being judged. Sure I had my one in a million scar on my left arm but there were internal scars that were deeper. It was easier to be bold, sassy, and outgoing than that quiet, quirky girl that loved words, writing, and art.  The world loves Sherry that is bold and sassy. The quiet, quirky, insightful, writer and artist they don't.

I want to be so much like everybody else. I want people to look at me and see normal. Even if I have it documented in writing that I'm  "one in a million" somehow that it isn't good enough. The world requires more from me. The world wants to see the happy, shiny person that has it all together. The world and memories jaded me. They made me feel less than. I wasn't; pretty enough, smart enough, and that no one liked me for who I was. I changed that when I went to college.  I became outgoing, sassy, and life of the party. I moved to KC and got married and had kids rather than traveling, teaching, and being an artist. I compromised at age 18 to fit in. I was always trying to please someone else. I didn't value myself or know my own worth.

It took a cancer diagnosis to realize what had happened. How lost to the world I had become. That my own concepts of who God is were far from the truth.  I'm that one on a million that God continued to pursue my whole life . The one that laid captive to the what the world said she should be. That one in a million that he created with his own unique characteristics that would shine to others and radiate them to Him if she would silence herself and listen.

We all have nothing boxes in our brains. I think it is choosing to let them lay dormant or allowing ourselves the grace to be vulnerable and share.  I'm taking grace today. Learning to lose the issues from the nothing box that held me captive. Giving myself grace knowing my stories aren't for everybody. That by me sharing that another one in a million that lays captive might begin the journey of freeing them self. If you are that one in the million know you are loved without judgment. You are given grace to be you.  You can rise and break your nothing box into bits with the hopes that our Heavenly Father has created you for more.  Be you...be that one in a million.

Beyond being labeled "one in a million" I had the joy of never having to do ; pull ups in gym. Even as a 49 year old my left arm isn't as strong as the right.  I can strain it easily and have to ice or heat pack it.  It grew but never caught up to my right humerus. My left arm is shorter than my right arm and always will be. That makes me a worldly "one in a million". Knowing that I am a beloved daughter of the Lord makes me the one in a million that God created and restored. 


Peace be with you- Sherry


UPDATES:

• I have to have a mammogram and then will be consulting with my oncologist about my latest scan.  If I'm honest I'm petrified that they will tell me something is wrong.  I'd love prayers over calm in the next couple of weeks.  
• I set up a "go fund me" for my mission trip to South Dakota. After what happened in December with the tires I feel like I need to take an emergency fund with me of $500 and then another $250 for gas, groceries, and living expenses for July & August.  Both my son and daughter with be with me. Please pray that this ask is not too great and will get funded.  
• I feel an alignment with the Lord this year that is so direct to my heart. I'm sure that I'm meant to be writing more than I have. This is the last of the transparency series. I am looking forward to the next series called "Rise & Roar". 
• Prayers over my art studio here in Pleasant Hill and my ability to be God's light, grace, and hope through creativity are appreciated.  This past week I was blessed by five people that popped in unexpectedly that just needed a place to hangout, someone to confide in, and grace from the world. 
• We are in need of an new air conditioner unit for the house. Pray that we can source a used one at little to no cost.  As most of you know I need air conditioning because after radiation my skin prickles and blisters from the heat.  A new unit for the house would be more affordable than the window units we are using and more effective. We tried to get a loan to make payments on a new a/c unit but were denied. 
  
  
   

Woke

Truth be known I'm 49 and have a ton of stories and stuff.  What stuff, Lord? What will make a impact? Sunday I feel asleep, had a dream, and then woke up.  That happened five times before I got the message.  Share about "the song". 

My senior year of high school my language arts teacher had us write in a spiral notebook daily.  She would give writing prompts; a word, poem, art, or song.  She had us write for five to ten minutes.  It was the first time I had wrote since junior high.  I had to write because it was an "assignment".  

Our teacher shared we could write the same word over and over again.  We could write song lyrics.  We could write about anything or nothing at all but we had to write. The first journal entry is just a page filled with "I don't want to write" repeated over and over again.  The second page was the lyrics to "In My Life" by the Beatles. I repeated the cycle for the whole week and got all my points because I was writing. 

By week three as the teacher gave me mine she said "look at the note".  She had wrote "The Beatles were still a band when I was your age.  Tell me more".  I cleverly wrote the lyrics to "I Am The Walrus" and at the end wrote "Bono is bad". I got my journal the next day and she had wrote "How bad is Bono? Please explain". 

I found the band U2 in Washington DC on a school trip. My roomies were from Lake Oswego, Oregon. They couldn't believe that we hadn't heard of U2. At the end of our trip we were fans.  Leisel gave me her cassette tape of "The Unforgettable Fire" for the plane ride home. I bought the album at Target my first week home.   

I would tell you my fav U2 album is "War". I could tell you "Vertigo" was written for me after I got a concussion....ok, it was released after my concussion.  But, I'm here to be transparent, right?  My fav album would be "Wide Awake in America".  

I played it a handful of times in high school and then not for forty something years.  That album was too personal to me.  The song "Bad" is how I was inspired to write "Bono is bad" in my high school journal.  

The song "Bad" made me cry the first time I heard it.  The words felt like a letter from God to me.  I was this zany little peace punk in high school.  I had began smoking pot daily so I could just feel a lit joy daily.  I had a new flock of friends that were artsy like me.  They were agonized by their family relationships like me. I loved the freedom of expression that pot gave me.  It made me bold.  It made me carefree. It helped me to be invincible against my world.

My friends and I would play a game once sufficiently baked "God Smite Me".  We decided to dare one another to see if God existed and to  see if we could actually make God smite us. Doesn't that sound fun? 

Some of my adventures in "God Smite Me" include;  Lay out in the street as the high school traffic comes over the hill. Jump in front of a car coming down the street. Have a river rat party under the bridge in downtown Des Moines. Hit the graveyard at midnight to summon spirits. Go to churches and poke fun of people worshiping.  

One Friday night we were at a church. One of my childhood friends went there. I didn't know it until she sat beside me and took my hand. She asked to talk to me.  I went to a back pew with her. She told me she had a message from God; "Sherry you know God. God knows you.  He loves you. You were designed to be a leader not a follower. All you need to do is choose Him". I laughed in her face and walked out. 

There was no way that she had a direct connection to God. What a line of garbage. The next week I bought U2's "Wide Awake In America" and listened to "Bad" and thought ; "Jesus, now I'm hearing God too" and cried.  I played that song every day for a week rather than getting stoned.  The lyric "If I could through myself set your spirit free, I'd lead your heart away, See you break away into the light". 

 Ok, God, I think I hear you. The lyrics of the song rolled onto all the things that I felt. It was like God was asking for me to "let it go" ; 

"If I could you know I would

If I could, I would

Let it go...

This desperation

Dislocation

Separation

Condemnation

Revelation

In temptation

Isolate

Desolation

Let it go

And so fade away

To let it go

I'm wide awake
I'm wide awake
Wide awake
I'm not sleeping
Oh, no,no, no

I knew if I let all that go I would be free.  I knew in my heart that I would be free. If I just gave it all to God.  I couldn't.  I had trusted people and they walked out on me. I felt their hypocrisy. I felt scorned, separated, and like God was watching me from way up in his heavenly place and doing nothing.  Those lyrics "I'm wide awake I'm not sleeping" just fueled me to build barriers to protect myself from my family, friends, the world and God.  I played that album for one week and cried out to God to help. When I didn't see Him stop it my barrier got taller and taller until it was a tower.

 I got a copy of U2 "Songs of Experience".  The lyrics hit me like a message from God again. Only this time it inspired me, challenged, and made me think what a long, strange trip I'd been on. How U2 was the soundtrack for my life.  The hubs & I went to Josey records in KC on a date day.  I found a CD of "Wide Awake In America" and wondered where my album was and why didn't I ever play it.  The CD was only a couple of bucks so I bought it. I got in the Sandymobile memories flooded back. It was literally going to be "bad". The hubs went to play it and I said I would rather listen to the radio.

The next week I was driving into KC to teach art class to kids. I was driving listening to CDs in the car. "Bad" came on. I was captivated by the lyrics. I heard Bono give the soulful howl. I realized why when things go totally from bad to worse I howl. Why when I have no words I howl.  I howl because "Bono is bad".  My howls have contained my pain, anguish, and hurt and were directed at God since high school.  Bono was just the songwriter & singer that led to breakthrough of my pain. That is the answer to my high school teacher that I never answered in my journal.

I realized as I heard the lyrics "come on down" that was God's gentle reminder that he just wants us to come to him. As Bono gently croons "come on down" tears flowed. I had finally started to break the wall down a few years ago.  As those bricks broke I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.  Last year during a prophetic class with my sonshine the tower crumbled.

When I hear the lyrics "I'm not sleeping" I think, yeah,  I'm no sleeping anymore in this life.  I realize that lyric wasn't about an omnipresent God that wanted to see my demise.  It was a call to remove the scales from my eyes, heart, and mind that I would see and know the world like Him.  That I would be present to see others like the Lord.  I would hear others and be their confidant and pray over them to wash them with God's light. My heart would know the wonder of the Lord and what breaks his heart and makes his heart.

I think I always did think, know, see the world in a way like the Lord does.  I'm a hoper; I hope for the best, see the best, and try my best to be kind, compassionate, and love others well.  I knew I wanted to be a teacher at 5 years old. At 40 something I realize God created me to be a teacher, train warriors, mentor, and be a source of His hope and grace. I'm awake.

I never have looked up the song "Bad" to see why it was written.  I didn't need to know because it was God's letter via U2 & Bono to me. It was the letter that I put down in high school.  It was the letter with open invitation to be free but I chose to walk away. It was the letter that was waiting to be received fully until I was fortysomething.

I shared with the school aged kids of TSMKC this spring about the song. Both my darling dot and sonshine were there. I shared that I had a song was like a letter from God to me. I heard it in high school. I listened to it for a week and cried and prayed that God would make my life easier, better, and beautiful. When he didn't I built a wall and then a tower. I told them about buying the CD  and listening to it and how the tower crashed. I realized that I was awake as a light bearer. That God had aligned me to bear his light to them & I was ready to "howl" for joy...which we did.  I let them listen to the song. One of the kids said "Sherry, you know when we howl you howl in whoops like that singer".  That's because I'm awake and not sleeping was my reply.

The words; classic punk, mystery of faith, and polarity. Those are all words that popped into my journal this week as I struggled to write this. Polarity came this morning which is the struggle between two forces that want to connect together; like magnets. Isn't that absolutely what this blog is about? Me living in the world and building a wall that turned into a tower so as not to get hurt and not fully connect to God. I love that worldly "polarity" has kept me dragging around a tower for years. It gives me perspective when I write, when I talk to others, and inspires me to be bold. My tower is shattered how about yours?  May you start to take down your wall, shattering bricks each day.  I know its hard but to be a beloved daughter or son you have to live free.  That means no more bricks, no more towers. That scales from the walls & towers would be shed that our eyes would see, ears would listen, and hearts would know.  Then we are truly wide awake, not sleeping and it's not bad.

Peace be with ...may you walk in the "Son" shine - Sherry

Updates;

• Bold Streak; I've reached out asking for help to get all our gear to Wagner, South Dakota this summer.  If you have a truck or trailer or both and would like a road trip to help me get all the donations and art supplies there for me on my mission trip that would be remarkable. I will be there July and part of August and I know there is too much for the Sandymobile to carry.  Pray for provision and gentleness to prevail. 
• Dale shared his "rocks" with the kids at gathering last week.  We shared about the Holy Spirit and he shared his billions and billions year old oceanic wave rock from Missouri...hard to believe we were once an ocean.  He will be sharing that message with TSMKC kids on June 5 without his mama; pray for confidence, grace, and light to shine with him. If you would like him to come share with a group of kiddos or adults he would.  Just message us. 
• Emily broke her glasses after a seizure a couple of months ago.  She duct taped them together. We kind of forgot about them with her epilepsy. Yesterday, she ordered a new pair of glasses. And, we found an optician that takes her insurance. 
• Pray for Emily that she be healed. Pray over her as she works to get her financial aid released. She has been calling trying to get figure it out.  If you pray for her process, tenacity, and favor of our Heavenly Father to clear this obstacle. She wants to go to NWMSU this fall to finish her degree in counseling. 
• We are cleaning our garage so that I can have ; a spot for parents to sit & hangout while their kids are in art classes, for a maker space for The Artroom, and so that I can pull in the Sandymobile in the garage in the winter. Pray for ; Emily, Dale, and I as we spend the next couple of weeks on the project. 
• I'd like to sell of my Etsy stash to help me fund The Artroom, my home art studio, where I do kids & adult classes.  If you like vintage or sell it message me.  Items will be ; $1-$10.  
• As we clean out the garage we will be donating and giving things away. If you are a crafty sort and would like some free wood please message me. 

Turn To Stone

Constructive destruction is what I can use to describe being sobered up to reality, what God intends, and your ability to see the world with his blinders. Constructive destruction wrecks what you thought you knew of God, what you thought you know of yourself, and the world.  It wrecks the walls that you've built up to keep the outside out.  It smashes the emotions that you've bottled up for years. And, it gives life to the ashes so they swirl around you to encounter Him.

I wrote that last year.  The Lord was moving in me to start to write again but I was bogged down by the weight of his request. It would require me to be more transparent and vulnerable.  I wasn't ready. Truth be told I wasn't ready to write this one until last night when I woke up with what felt like an anxiety attack. As I tried to steady my breathing tears started to gently fall.  I took a deep breath and got my sketchpad & began to draw.

I was in seventh grade and things were changing rapidly.  I went to junior high after being at the same elementary school from kindergarten through sixth grade.  MTV was brand new and I walked home with my friends with cable TV just to watch the latest videos...ahh, the joys of being a tween and watching Duran Duran.

I was walking home with my friends one afternoon when my brother came rolling by and yelled at me to get in the car.  I said I wanted to walk with my friends.  He insisted that I get in the car, stopped it, and got out and shoved me in and took off.  He started rambling, yelling at me, and calling me horrible things.  He scared me. He was drunk.

My brother was my defender until that day.  Sure we argued, fought, and had sibling rivalry but I always knew he had my back. That day I found out how angry he was with me. He yelled at me that I had ruined his life. Told me he wished I was dead.  He pinned me to the wall and began to beat me.  I knee'ed him and ran to my room and locked the door.  I tried to call my dad but my brother had taken the downstairs phone off the hook. My brother got to my door and began to fumble with the key. I remember he kept getting it open and I would push the button to lock it. I remember crying and being scared.  I remember he finally gave up when my dad pulled int he driveway.

I told my mom on the ride to school the next morning. She told me that I was exaggerating and needed to give my brother grace.  It hurt me that she thought I was exaggerating. It hurt me that my words had no merit, no value, and no worth.  She wasn't going to help me.

This cycle of my brother picking me drunk from school continued. I started to hangout with a new circle of friends.  My old friends knew what was going on and had seen it.  They asked questions that I didn't want to answer.  It came to a head one afternoon when I actually got to walk home without my brother.  I was in the kitchen when his car pulled in and before I could blink he was in my face, screaming at me, and drug me to the gas stove.  As he turned on the burner he grabbed me head and told me "your face isn't gonna be so pretty anymore" and shoved my head near the burner.

I kicked him and grabbed a bottle of cleaner from the sink. I yelled for him to stay away but he didn't. I sprayed the cleaner in his face and kept spraying it until he yelled and ran for the sink to flush his eyes.  I ran outside and just started running down the street to get away and he was right behind me yelling.  I ran and as I got to my friends house her mom was pulling into the driveway.  She saw what was happening and yelled for me to get in her house and lock the doors.  She told my brother he couldn't have me.  She told him she would call the police. She took a stand for me.

I called my dad and he came and got me.  He let me confide what was going on and that I wasn't alone.  He gave me permission to hangout at my friends houses and not come home.  He made a plan with me about how to avoid my brother.  But it didn't always work and my brother continued to verbally and physically abuse me.

I was 12.  I was ashamed.  I believed that I was "exaggerating" and that I deserved all the anger my brother had for me.  I started to believe that I had ruined his life by being born. That I was a worthless. And, that he and my family would be better without me.  I started to write in a spiral notebook what was going on daily to document and confide to God.  God wasn't stopping my brother from drinking but I prayed for that in my spiral.  God didn't stop my mom from calling me a liar and telling me to treat my brother better and he wouldn't be angry but I prayed she would know and believe me.  God wasn't stopping all the thoughts of being worthless but I wrote prayers to God to show me my value. 

I was worthless and if my parents didn't protect me why would I confide in friends.  Instead, I turned my back to my old friends from grade school and turned to new friends. My new friends knew that pain of ; worthlessness, being alone, and burdened.  It was a presence of despair.  That spring I took three bottles of Benedryl and prayed to God to forgive me but I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to come home, Heavenly Father.

That afternoon my brother came home. He wasn't drunk. He saw the bottles in the bathroom trash and went to check his sister.  What he found was a very, very tired sister. From what I know my mom came home shortly after and he ran to her.  My mom was a nurse. She mixed raw eggs in a glass as my brother got me to the toilet. I collapsed there and she got me alert enough to make me drink the eggs and start to vomit.  She kept making me drink the eggs until I couldn't vomit anymore.  She told me she was mandated to take me to the hospital. She started to cry and told me how I had embarrassed her and put shame on our family.

Instead of taking me to the hospital she called her friend who was a psychologist. They talked and she took me to him the next day.  I told him that I didn't want to live.  I told him about my brother.  And, he talked to my mom before letting me leave. I went back to see him for a few weeks daily after school.  My mom or my brother would drop me off and pick me up.  We got far enough along that he asked for my family to come in for a counseling session.

He allowed me to tell my family what was going on, to share my pain, and emotions. My mom crumbled in tears. My dad looked at me and said " You are an embarrassment you couldn't even kill yourself next time do the job right or stop this".  My dad walked out and my brother followed him with my mom chasing after both of them trying to reason with them.

I was left alone.  I used my words and they had no power.  I shared my emotions and they were trampled.  I got mocked and ridiculed in that office.  I shut down my emotions that day.  Emotions make you feel and hurt.  I was done hurting. I prayed and told God that no more was I going to be used and left vulnerable. I was done.  I knew that God was supposed to be powerful but He did nothing to help me.

My dad's words from that day still burden my heart. Even in adulthood I hear them when I'm stressed and don't know how to make things better.  The sweet blessing is that I realize Jesus Christ was with me as my BFF back then.  I realize that my Heavenly Father had premise and purpose over me that he sent my brother and mom that day to be his hands and feet.

 He's takes my heart of stone and channels it to glorify Him through total transparency through this blog.  He created me to bear his light, to teach, to train warriors. He gave me perspective with what happened to me in junior high. He gifts me promise and purpose through using my words to write. He gifts promise an purpose when I'm draw.  I see what writing and art have done for me and know that is how I'm to bear His light to the world.

I played my ELO record in my kids art class as they drew cosmic rainbows.  It seemed like the perfect background sound for the class.  The song "Turn to Stone" is on that album.  It reminded me that I tried to turn my heart to stone so that I wouldn't hurt, I wouldn't feel, and so I could cope.

It reminded me of when Jesus was coming through Jerusalem at Passover and everyone was cheering and going crazy for him. The leaders told him to make the people stop and he said that if he did even the rocks would praise him.  Even when we think we have closed our emotions off & built stone walls those walls still blaze with his light. The things that we protect and hide from the world roll like stones when we choose Christ as our Savior and believe it as truth.

Here's a glimpse of me crumbling as the stone walls that I've built start to crumble with God's light and intensity.  I can say yes I was going to give up at 12 but God said no.

I was supposed to be named Cherie when I was born.  Long story short my mom didn't know how to spell Cherie so she guessed and wrote Sherry on my birth certificate.  When my dad saw it he said "Well, she's Sherry now".  I'm on the leadership team of TSMKC. We were to be crowned by Sisters of Crown this spring.  They had us share about our names and if we knew the meanings.  I shared that about my name, that it is biblical as the "dry wine".  I shared that I have a dry sense of humor at times and I can whine like nobody's business. I shared about how I got the name Sherry rather Cherie and sat down.  One of the Sisters of the Crown looked at me and said "Do you know what Cherie means in french". I told her no.  She said "it means beloved, Sherry, no matter the spelling God claimed you as beloved at birth".  The rest of my rocks that I had fell that night at Christ's feet.

He claimed and called me since my birth. The Earth knew I was his beloved because of my name.  I want you to know that you were called "beloved" at your birth by a Heavenly Father that doesn't say you are an embarrassment but his beloved.  You are a gem in his crown. Since my crowning I've been writing about being a ruby.  What are gem are you today? How can you shine with light and be grace and hope to the world. My blog is how I choose to shine the brightest today. 

Peace be with you- Sherry

UPDATES;

• Continue to pray healing over Emily. No more seizures no more epilepsy only purity and tenacity remain. That her brain be healed and be reconnected so that her memory is restored so she can retain information. That she would return to college this fall and finish her degree to be a counselor and go into mission work with children and families. 
• Pray over my ability to earn form art classes enough for my trip to Wagner, South Dakota this summer. I will be spending my time between Wagner and Marty teaching art classes to kids at Boys and Girls Clubs.  I will be teaching adult art classes in the evenings at the Wagner center and at All Tribes Fellowship.  If you would like donate gas money and help me build an emergency fund contact me. I know I will need help but am faithful that I'm going with God's premise. 
• Dale is moving back from college this weekend.  Pray for bubble wrap of protection over him. 
• This blog is exactly why it is so dear and dire in my heart to have a tween/teen art class monthly at my art studio.  I want my studio to a creative sanctuary for teens that I didn't have.  One of the best comments from a teen from last month's class was "Sherry I don't know you but I like your vibe". 
• Pray over my art studio that it would serve my community with light, grace, and hope.  I see it becoming a beacon of hope to kids, teens, and adults.  
• I'm going to offer a "caregiver" class for those that are caring for ill family members or are ill this month.  I know how creativity helped me get through chemo and radiation and blessed my kids too.  That class will start this month at my studio please let me know if you are interested.  It will be free but you can give me a "tip" in my tip jar to help me continue.