Hoarders.

We watched three and a half episodes of Hoarders last night. Why? I have no idea. The behaviorist in me is completely, mortifyingly, fascinated by the program in a mind numbing sort of way. I sit in a dazed stage of shock the entire time I am watching the show.

I find myself vacillating between astonishment at the state to which these people have allowed their lives to deteriorate; disgust at the animal feces buried under feet of garbage; and compassion for them that they are unable to help themselves from living in such deplorable conditions.

I marvel at the ability of the counselors and the organizational professionals to be able to enter into the world of the hoarders and be compassionate. Not once did they blurt out shock or profanity at the reprehensible squalor that was these peoples' lives. I watched the facial expressions of the professionals and not once did I see them flinch in disgust or horror. They would matter of factly, and without judgement time and again ask 'and what is this room used for'? Even when the stench made the professionals gag they only pointed out it was a health hazard, and for everyone's safety they would need to leave the room.

As the hoarders and their helpers started the clean-up process the professionals made it clear it was important for the hoarders to be the ones in control. For healing purposes the hoarders needed to have the last say in what stayed and what was loaded onto trucks and hauled away. The professionals were then kind and straight forward with the hoarders. The professionals challenged the hoarders to relinquish control to the professionals, and their trusted loved ones. They were all there to help the hoarders dig out from the mess they had made, and heal.

As I sat and watched these episodes with my family I told my husband it is a cycle of shame that keeps these people in a prison of their own making. It is shame which keeps them from being able to see and admit how bad their situation is. It is shame that lies to them and tells them they are unworthy of help.

As I was brushing my teeth getting ready to head to bed I realized the Lord is like the professionals and we are like the hoarders. We hold onto the wrongs committed by us or against us unable to let them go. We build barriers around us to insulate us from the overwhelming sense of shame and to keep from being hurt more. The unfortunate thing is these barriers make us prisoners to our own dysfunction.

This is when Jesus steps in and rescues us; if we allow Him to. He walks into the midst of our mess no matter how deep, and without flinching He asks us about the brokenness around us.

He does not demean. He does not shame. He does not yell. He with infinite Mercy and Grace asks us to relinquish control to Him, and to trust in His love so He can help us become functional and whole.

Soothing, healing, comforting, compassionate, peace; salve. These are the words which are settled in my spirit today.

Waxing Eloquent

“…this faith…It’s our handle on what we can’t see.” Hebrews 11:1-2 (MSG)

I’ve felt lousy off and on for the biggest part of three months and even though I am on the mend I just am not that inspired nor do I feel inspiring. I’ve had writer’s block for about six weeks now. I have several ideas and I even tried to write a paragraph or two but my writing just seemed lumpy and bland. I want so much to write and blog words that matter.

This morning as I was sitting on my front porch, eyes closed, face to the sun-breaking sky, on this the first day of tolerable above freezing temperatures in a long time I thought of a situation my husband and I have been praying into. Our hope is the outcome would be one which breathes life, health and functionality to all involved. Things are being shaken in this situation but I have to admit as an outsider looking in things appear not to be leveling off and being rebuilt. It almost seems as if a sinkhole has opened up and is about to swallow all involved.

Huh; hmmm and all of those other pondering words. This is not what I had in mind when I was praying. In fact the opposite of what I would do if I were in charge of the universe is happening. But as I was swinging in the sunshine on my front porch the following are the word pictures and thoughts that were impressed on my mind.

If you take a sickle and swipe it at a plant you’ve still left the roots to take hold, go deeper, and shoot another sprout above ground. However, if you get down closer to the dirt, get your hands dirty, dig around, pull, tug, dig a little deeper you don’t just cut the thing you can see you get to the literal root of the problem.

Sure there is by far more effort exerted to get a deep rooted long existing plant up out of the ground than what it takes to swipe a sickle at the above ground foliage. The digging may even leave us exhausted. The process will most likely cause a blister or may even leave us a little calloused and bruised but in the end if we persevere the problem will be gone.

So today for the first time in a long time I can see by faith past what is to what will be. For the first time in a long time I feel where we are in this situation is not the destination but part of the pot holed path we must traverse.

I so want to bring encouragement to everyone who stumbles upon and reads my writings yet lately what I have been feeling just doesn’t fit into the encouragement category. I decided today encouragement doesn’t only come through distant mountain tops of rainbow sprinkles and sunshine. Sometimes encouragement comes from standing knee deep in the mucky ditch of life declaring this is not my destination!