Christina Damron

Wisps of bacon waft through the air, I opened my eyes momentarily misplaced. I had been dreaming of home. We have a date to move home…the very day we moved out last year. I’m excited, nervous, and slightly terrified. The journey though we’d be home is long from over. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to grow too attached…what if we have to sell? Those beloved mountains would be lost again to me.

But I shake my head clearly away clobwebs of fears. Clobwebs intentionally spelled because fear both clobbers you and spins sticky unholy webs of lies. I made up a word that seemed fitting for the moment. Reorienting myself I glanced beyond the thoughts of concerns-legitimate as they are: Hope. There she is. Faith tugged on my heart… reminding me no matter what happens God is still good. He will see us through. As of yet, He hasn’t said we’d lose our home. All points to going home and living there. So I’ll keep what I believe to be true: that we will be home on the day that marks a year.

Coffee arouse me to move. My heart both filled with sorrow and joy as I slowly crawled painfully out of bed. Long hours are spent working at the house, no point in a gym when I lift and move heavy things. Try a 300+ pound wooded counter for size with 3 people…two being petite women while strong shouldn’t be lifting. Working at home isn’t the same as living there. It is strange. Stranger still to have no canine to greet us, but how grateful to have a feline that meows his hellos and comes in for snuggles. He’s adopted my room and is spoiled like a little king. Happier than I’ve seen him a long time- he now knows the words “our room” and will actually go in there on command. Joy fills me when I think of the work being down that will make a difference in my family life, in others. Soon it will be over and I will most certainly be glad of it.

But there is an art to having joy in the midst of hardship. To choosing to see the good, to delight. We’re living with a family friends that we’ve known for over 25 years. It will be I know one of my very favorite summers. We have settled into a routine of sorts that has helped heal each one of us and yet there is also a sense of adventure. It has helped us learn excellent habits and that we can in fact live harmoniously with others. Beautifully actually in a way that has tended to areas that I long thought dead.

We’re ( speaking for myself, my mom, and my sister) are not the same people even 3 months ago. For 9 months we bounced from place to place often without my Dad whose work schedule only allowed us to see him a handful of times. We learned to fend for ourselves, to rely solely on God, and to figure out how have one foot working at home and the other in plain on survival. I know for a fact we will be returning home not the same. That’s what’s scares me. Because home so familiar and yet so not. The old ways of doing things are no longer for newness has come. Yet…I am also thrilled and excited. Newness is a new slate to have opportunities opened like never before. To actually see dreams come to life made possible by completely releasing and following through on God’s leading. It is going to be so very good.

In two days it will be Valentine’s day. Sometimes we need to grasp the normal and shake it upside its head. Sometimes we need to *fiercely* protect the normal. It’s not normal for a single woman to love Valentine. But I do. I get excited about it like a kid who sees cotton candy at a country fair. I also recognize the beauty of couples to make this time special. Sweet, and totally unneeded for a special holiday- but never the less I enjoy it. In my humble opinion not being in a relationship…going on a date should be the normal….not the abnormal. Now…before I start to hear all the “we don’t have time…” Darlings…you make time for what’s important to you. Money is important enough to practically be a slave to…therefore the same can be applied to relationships—–although if you are a slave to your job you might need to revaluate that. I am also certainly NOT advocating a daily date or even a weekly one…because life. But I am mostly certainly saying…taking time to make sure the ones you love feels appreciated, wanted, and seen is important keeps any friendship and relationship alive. I’ve been told time and time again a good marriage starts the basis of a healthy friendship. After seeing that for myself I’m inclined to believe that. But I know little of actual couple relationships ….but I do know a lot about friendships.

It takes work. It takes being intentional. Sometimes it takes a good fight….an ugly good fight to go from being good friends to friends sticking closer than a brother. Friends that allow you to speak your mind and bark their opinions right back and you make up not necessarily a comprise but an agreement that encourages BOTH parties…keep those. They’re well worth their weight in gold…perhaps more so. I’ve also learned for me that it takes about 5-6 years to really develop a good friendship and that’s with intentionality on both sides. I’m not sure why that is.

Back to the original reason of this post. Valentine Day. I love it. For me it is a chance to love on people. To dress up to do something special. Do I do that on other days yes… I do. Being a single woman on Valentine’s day is not a disadvantage, rather I consider it to be advantaged. I have a chance to gather people, to love them, and to laugh with them throughout the events through if I wanted to. I have a chance to spoil myself, my family members. It’s a happy occasions. It is a day of loving and of play for me.

A day of love. A day of intentionally doing something nice for someone. A day of often trying to sneak around to do something for someone without them knowing it. A day of laughter. That’s what Valentine’s day is for me.

There’s many many thoughts rolling in my head of late. The kinds I’ve needed to think through and ponder on. The ones that have given me aha’s whether I’ve discovered I’ve needed to change my way of things or confirmation of being on the right track. This season has me taking step back and considering can I truly do this meaning is it mine to do in this season, later, or at all? Or are the thoughts I’m considering penning here…would they encourage others? This one particular piece I hope does…it has been one mulling in my brain almost 12 years.

I’ve heard it a thousand times in my life…the highest calling as a woman is to be a mother. It has been ingrained with me. That is *my* highest calling. Being a mother is amazing. I applaud the women who are. It is a sacred calling. A high calling. One that can only be fulfilled…by a woman. I consider motherhood to be one of the highest ones there is in terms of callings. There is a great, great respect for mothers bringing in life into this world and rearing them up.

However, it is NOT the greatest calling. BEFORE you hit me Mamas with the cast iron. Please allow me to ask questions as a single woman who is both husbandless, and childless.

If I were to remain childless for the rest of my life, then would I have failed as a woman to obtain the highest calling?

Think on it for a moment. What happens to the mother who can’t bring children to the world? Is she then forced to adopt or foster in order to receive this highest calling?

I will confess I am a bit jade perhaps. Well meaning women have said this to me, I’ve never had to guts except once and that didn’t go well at all- surprisingly it in a conversation to another single woman pinning for a husband and children. Please don’t mistake me, I am all for marriage and I am all for children. However, I am talking of the highest calling this is the context.

Callings are in response in obedience to what God has called you to do…or to be. Motherhood isn’t a job….it is a calling. You can’t put a price on it. It is incredibly stupid to try, because the worth of what mothers do can’t be calculated. There is a deep need for mothers ( and spiritual mothers) and the want is high for good mothers as well. I deeply respect, admire, and give great honor to them. But while mother’s never stop being a mother that is forever their name… their seasons of rearing children will come to an end. Although, they will be, I pray in their lives, having very healthy relationships, their children need them in different ways as they fly on their own. What then? It’s finished. What happens next?

Their greatest calling comes next just like it was before they were mothers. The callings that God has placed on them. To be His all throughout times. To do what He has called them to do…being a mother or otherwise. That’s the greatest calling…having that personal relationship with Him and walking in the calling(s) He has placed on you and I.

Personal confession, I have zero desire for my own children. Nada. It took me a very long time to get over the guilt ( try 10 years). Yet, I love children…deeply love the children whom I’m privileged to have in my life. They are treasures and the ones that I get to love on, fiercely protective of, I pray for and am humbled that their parents trust me. God simply hadn’t given me that desire. To force it, to lie about it, isn’t glorifying Him. Yet! I also know that if He gifted them to me…I’d do my absolute best and I’d love them terribly much. Or if He every put a child on my heart to foster or adopt…then my heart for the child will swell with much love and pride. In that moment, in that season that is a higher calling is being a mother. But I can’t forget the highest calling is to be His.

A friend who longs for children, it is a cry of her heart, at this season has not been given any. Why? I don’t know. I mourn alongside with her. But am rejoicing that she is walking with grace and integrity, she is stepping out as she is waiting into gifting and callings. She is not being a parked car wailing and complaining of her misfortune. No. As she waits, even as she grieves fighting with hope for her desires, she is being a willing vessel. Her actions have been a sources of comfort, encouragement, and strength. I consider She is in this very moment operating in her highest calling.

From several mothers who have lost their little ones…they have courage beyond anyone I know. To celebrate new life when they just lost own…is the bravest, most selfless, and still remain a very real mark of a mother. I wish I can find words of how much I admire them, their courage, how they have shaped my life because they cried their tears but still….saw. They saw life. They saw others and celebrate the littles despite the wrench in their own hearts. To me that is a mark of truest courage. I hope they know they’re not alone…never ever alone. Their love makes a difference…it has for me.

Mothers are so so so needed, and so desired. While I cannot love, like a mother with her own children…I’ve learned love from them. What a calling. What a gift.

“You’re taking this waaay, too literal Christina.” someone might say.”It’s only semantics of wording”. Perhaps I am and perhaps it is. I will concede to that. I have much to learn and no doubt there will be disagreement on this topic.

Yet, I know I am the happiest when I am walking in my Father’s Will no matter how hard it may be. What defines me in my identity is whom God has called me. My callings may have seasons, but the highest one, greatest one never has seasons it is for all entirety of time. To accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior of my life and doing what He has called me to do…or to be. My prayer is that you walk in whatever season you’re in, in the calling He has called you never forgetting He is the highest calling.

Changing of perspectives is sometimes easy and sometimes it is the most difficult thing to do and accept. Especially when it has to do with self control and disciplined. Like holding my tongue when I’m exhausted and would love nothing more to than to let loose my words. On the other hand when I feel terrified because someone blew up intent on their own way so I remain silence only to moment later find words I wished I could have said. Then there’s the combo- where I’m exhausted and someone with their heart in the right place seemingly scolds us for our decisions. The next day the message was clearer and I had been glad to have been silent though knowing words would have to said to give context of the decisions. The dilemma.

One of the best decisions I ever made last year was to enroll in a mentorship. This decision was not made lightly, nor was it without cost. I knew that if I was could to spend the money I would need to be willing to put in the work. Easy said then done I’m not afraid to admit. I had prayed for a year, watched carefully, went to the scriptures and observed someone very close to me who was in the program. I liked what I saw. The change in the person was subtle , steady, and happy. It took courage to pay the cost, but I don’t regret a penny of it. It has been one of the hardest and yet easiest decision to stay focus and dedicated to doing the work.

One of the things I’ve noted was

I stopped trying to escape, but truly was intent of being full.

Christina

I’m learning while on the outside escaping and playing are two very different things. Escaping doesn’t fill you in the way that we need to be full. We don’t change on escapism- not in a good way. However, I have realized the very beginning was the method of escaping, I needed to escape what was happening. Some of the things I escaped into I had to cut off completely. It was destroying me on the inside and starting to affect relationships. I’m in all earnest that I thank God that He caught my heart and I’ve repented turning aside from what not good. Had I continued down the road it would have not been good. But there have been other escapism that have lead to very good things. Instead of what began as escaping became a way for me to get creative inspirations. It allowed wonder. It shifted my perspective from moody and broody to intentional gladness and focus. It has been heart work.

I have found myself through out the day seeking out His presence. Asking Him what He thinks. Not because I have to, because I want to. I’ve discovered even the things I don’t want to do that He lends me the inspirations, disciplined, and focus to do them. Is it all easy peasy? No. But I find myself more and more committed to His voice then my fears.

For example- I started writing both morning and night. I wrote to escape. To “make” myself think and be “better” person. Please tell me you’re laughing…because this is definitely the time. If not- I give you permission to chuckle. No one not even myself can make me a better person. But…what started out as an escape and a legalistic way made way to dreaming with God, to hearing His heart, to repentance, and to looking forward to waking up in the mornings because I get to dream with Him (when I say dream I ask Him what His desires are for me and I go with His leading). To looking forward to the evenings because scriptures come to life, I pour out both beauty and grief shifting my perspective to His. It is heart work and worth the investment.

Every Moment that I spend with Him is an investment into my best of the best life.

This has changed me. What also has helped is putting my phone in a different room at night. Yes, its extreme. But that’s where I am at the moment. Maybe someday I’ll have disciplined to have my phone in my room again. I don’t know. But I do know I’m sleeping better and deeper. My quality of time with Him has increased.

You see sometimes escaping is good…but the questions to ask is why and to what? My best choices began in escaping I had to get away and that’s what I knew. But if the escaping isn’t good, mark my words if you belong to Jesus- the Holy Spirit will prick your conscience. It is up to me, to you to surrender.

What about the things that weren’t good for me? I can almost hear the questions. Well, I was reading books with fantasies- the magical realm kind. Not good things. It started slow a way for me to escape, I was so caught up I didn’t even notice what I would have noticed in a instance. It started getting more graphic, more more “magical”. Until I heard His voice interrupt one of my reading- “Do you think this please Me? Does this give any glory to Me?” I stopped there and didn’t pick it up. A little time later I entertain the thought of reading again- and was interrupted with “Would you allow an eight year old to read this? Does this hurt your relationship with Me?” Ya’ll this was a three week time period. I confess I did pick up once more a little later and so disappointed at the content. I saw it for what it was. Witchcraft. In my trying to escape I had chosen filth water, something that would try to tear me away from a good healthy relationship with my Father. I did get inspired create beauty out of the experience, it propelled me to do something about it. It also made me grateful that I wasn’t left to my own devices- I was corrected. In the correction I felt loved and secured, but humbled. Can someone else read those stories and not be effect like I was…maybe. But that’s not of my concern. That would be between that person and God…but I do know when someone is being effect good or bad by how they are bearing their fruit. What goes in and allow to stay has consequences.

I also want to point out something…God would have more than likely eventually had someone correct me. I’d rather be corrected by Him than someone else. I’m not perfect and I have had people rightly correct me. I thank for them it even if in the moment I was angry about it. It means they cared enough and loved me enough to encouragement to keep my focus Christ Centered. They’re not perfect- but neither am I. But as a result I’ve made very conscious decisions of what I’m listening, watching, or reading because I know I’m wanting to escape. And there’s really no escaping, but there is such a thing as getting my tank filled up. I’m trying to be more aware of my thoughts- all of them- and what is being allowed to stay. No. I’m trying to be goody two shoes, I’m not as good was I want to be, and neither is a “heavy” thing for me to do. It is an action I’m choosing to tend to because I want my life to bear good fruits.

In being focus on being full, means I’m not scrapping for scraps. I’m getting the best of the meats, the fruits, cheese, wine, veggies, and yes desserts. Not because I’m all that…but because I’m tending to what is mean and sometimes that means being allowed to be pruned and pruning even when it hurts.

P.S. Forgive my lack of grammar and spelling. I chose not to re-read over my post. Perhaps I’m a chicken….but I was afraid I’d edit out what needed to stay.

Today is the day of Thanksgiving. My heart is full. I keep looking around and seeing so much to be thankful for. You see my heart is full for those struggling, but refuse to be be defeated. To fight when there’s barely hope to hang on. To work towards things because they believe it can happen.

Some of my favorite videos to watch is of those who have physical limitation and overcame. I cry because its *hard*, its *painful*, and yet they do it anyways. A smidge of an increase of movement is considered a major victory. I cry when babies heard for the first time, because I remember the very first time *I heard* my mama whisper “I love you.” I cry when someone involved in an accident and doctors were concern they would’t walk again and the patient proved them wrong. I cry when a father and a mother fought to have a child and they succeed regardless whether through adoption or otherwise. I cry when people shout encouragements and stubborn refuse to let go of someone because they believe in them so much. The person, yelled at in encouragement, at the very end, weak from exhaustion looks up to see they’re past the finish line.

The videos of military coming home to families makes me weep. The ones of animals hugging their owners after absent I can’t help the warm feelings. Children running to the ones they love and whom love back make my heart smile like no other. I love seeing those who deserve honor and respect be given that gift.

You see, this year has been me finding blessings anywhere and everywhere I can. It has been hard for so many. It’s ridiculously easy to not count the blessings, eerily easier to get lost in oneself. I know. In these days time I lean hard on God on what is healthy boundaries of making sure I’m healthy and still help people. I no longer believe that you have to sacrifice both for long periods of times. For clarity context, I’m not talking about unhealthy conveniences we do things out of guilt. Rather about what we do and should do things that are not always convenience because it will better the lives around us. Sacrificing (long term) mental, physical, and spiritual health to stay on someones good side isn’t humbling or helpful…its destructive. It.will.tear.you.apart…and the ones you love and not for the reasons you think.

One of the healthiest ways to keep you healthy is to stay in a grace filled gospel of Jesus Christ church. It has been hugely inconvenience to come to church these days, no lie there. And truth be told due to exhaustion and distance of 1+ hours that could potentially be destructive due to operating a 2 + ton vehicle, there have been a couple of times we did not because it was safer if we did not. However, we’ve never regretted showing up and loving what is ours.

Love what is yours. Not what you think is yours or what you want to be yours. But what God has placed right there to be yours and you know it. When you love what is yours you find yourself giving praise and thanks no matter how hard or light the season it is.

In every season…give thanks.