This whole being trampled on thing is a pain... not just a pain in the ass, actually my ass does not hurt... nor is there a pain in my neck. My neck is fine. It's my heart, my mind and my spirit that have been crushed. Yesterday was tough. Bless the big heart of my husband. He is trying so hard to help me pull thru all of this. And sometimes, whether we like it or not, the duty of a spouse is to, metaphorically speaking, smack us around a bit. I say that lightly because my hubby and I would never hit each other in anger. I was having a rough day yesterday, crying, feeling sorry for myself, pouting, whining, and other annoying behavior that is not becoming of a woman of faith. He had to "smack me around a bit" by telling me that I need to get out of bed, get dressed, take care of this house by continuing to prepare it for a move, think positively, spend time in meditation and prayer and stop all the whining and crying. Ok, so he was waaay more sensative than that... but, I told him he just had to smack me around a bit... and we both giggled, then laughed. What a man! Thank you, Lord for my amazing man!!!
Ok, so today is a new day. Saturday morning. We had a nice lie-in, our cup of tea and toast, and I have spent time writing. Someday... I WILL write a book. I can just feel a book inside me... and I know it will come out.. sometime. So, in the mean time, I keep journaling (I have several!), blogging and writing notes.
Here are the healing words I was given this morning:
Hebrews 10:35,36: (STACEY!!) Do NOT fling away your fearless confidence, for it carries a GREAT and GLORIOUS compensation of REWARD!
For I (Stacey) have need of stead fast patience and ENDURANCE, so that i can perform and fully accomplish the will of God, and receive and carry away and fully enjoy what is promised to me!!
Corinthians 5:7 We live by FAITH, NOT by SIGHT!
Ok, so if you are like me and are the son or daughter of a preacher man, then you have heard that verse since you were in the womb... BUT, what hit me this morning is that I must look thru my spiritual eyes.
Rose colored glasses. What do I see with my NATURAL eyes, or the rose colored glasses? Right now my glasses are more of grey color... washed out, faded, ragged... BUT, Jesus Christ has provided us with glasses covered in his blood. Wow. So, I will take off my grey colored glasses where everything looks grey and faded and washed out and ragged... and I will put on my glasses that are covered in the Blood of Jesus.
What do I see when I look through those glasses? I see all of God's promises and prosperity and abundance. I see a house, children, being a stay at home mom, a dog, a garden, a yard for the kids and critters to run and play... That's what I see. No longer are things grey and ragged and washed out..
Wow. Thank you Jesus for my new glasses. I know they were there all along; I think I lost them or they were knocked off my face during the recent battle. My new vision is crystal clear.
Praise God!!
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
A set back or redirection?
I have had hopes of writing about more Wilhite stories... our engagement, our wedding, the first 5 years... almost 6 now! (where has time gone?) But, I'd rather skip to the present.
I am going to make this short. I am tired of typing this in emails or telling someone over the phone. I may use two word sentences or one word expressions to convey this. I am just trying NOT to let myself drag myself thru all of it again and again. It's been a week today since the horrid event, and I am ready to get on with it.
Names have been changed or left out to protect the guilty.
Since October I have been planning to work for a lady in Tennessee. I was planning to teach dance and drama, a life long dream. New shoes and clothes for teaching were bought; we stayed in a hotel for a week so I could do workshops at local schools, promoting the school and my classes. (This was all of last week...) I spent the week having heart to heart chats with this lady, planning for the future of the fine arts programs, praying with this lady about our working together, witnessing to students and families, etc... She and I talked about a lot. She went on and on about how I was a Godsend, how she had been praying for some one like me for 4 years, how she was looking forward to expanding her business, how she wanted to do big productions in the community, etc.
While we were down there, I spent the week looking for housing and found a cute condo with a nice lady who did not ask for a deposit or extra deposit because of our cats. She was very sweet and knew that the cats (or "the girls" as we call them...) are part of our family...
Then last Friday Brandon and I checked out of the hotel. I was to meet this woman at Starbucks for coffee and a planning meeting in regards to summer day camps. She was an hour and a half late to the meeting. Once she got there, she paid me.... then proceeded to tell me that I was not a good match for the school. .. that I was overly assertive (huh?), that I was inappropriate with/toward a student (I shook his hand...), that I don't have a servant' s heart (when was that a prerequisit to work there, and how does she know that, and how would she know that if I only spent about 2 hours a day with her... that is a lie straight from Satan himself...), and that she did not want me to work for her. She said she cried and prayed about it all night... and once she made the decision, she had a peace about it.... Yet, she asked me to forgive her. (If you have to ask for forgiveness, then you did NOT make the right decision.)
I have never been so betrayed and hurt in all my life. Seriously. I cried for 3 hours. I cried because I had totally committed to doing this. Effort and time and MONEY were spent to make all this happen. We were moving. We were moving within two weeks from last Friday, by March 1st. I cried because I felt like a lier.... telling everyone I'm gonna be teaching dance, I'm gonna be doing what I have always wanted to do, I'm moving to TN in three weeks, I'm.. I'm.. I'm...
I have forgiven her. What she did was WRONG. BUT, I want all of God's blessings. Somewhere deep down... and I mean waaaaayyy deeeeep dooooown in the very depths of my soul I have a tiny inkling of a feeling... The feeling that: I knew this was going to happen. Maybe that is God, yes.. I believe it is. God knew this would happen. He goes before us and takes care of us... and I believe that inkling is my Spirit saying, in whispered tones, "It's ok. You knew something, deep down was not right. You would not have been nearly as happy as you thought you would be... AND, God wants to give you the real, tangible desires of your heart..."
It makes me sad to admit I had that feeling. Maybe that's why it was hard to finally make a decision on the tiny condo, maybe that's why at the workshops I did not have real joy, but sad, frustrated feelings and thoughts... Maybe that's why I cried so hard. Maybe I knew that I didn't really want to do that... Maybe I was greiving about our move...
What do I really want?
I want to stay home full time and have Brandon's babies. There, I said it.
I want to have a house and a dog and babies and a garden...
And, I think that way deep down, I know that this is just a redirection and that God is going to give us blessings, abundance, and prosperity that will blow our mind! I believe that huge blessing is coming in March. I'll keep posting and let everyone know..
I am going to make this short. I am tired of typing this in emails or telling someone over the phone. I may use two word sentences or one word expressions to convey this. I am just trying NOT to let myself drag myself thru all of it again and again. It's been a week today since the horrid event, and I am ready to get on with it.
Names have been changed or left out to protect the guilty.
Since October I have been planning to work for a lady in Tennessee. I was planning to teach dance and drama, a life long dream. New shoes and clothes for teaching were bought; we stayed in a hotel for a week so I could do workshops at local schools, promoting the school and my classes. (This was all of last week...) I spent the week having heart to heart chats with this lady, planning for the future of the fine arts programs, praying with this lady about our working together, witnessing to students and families, etc... She and I talked about a lot. She went on and on about how I was a Godsend, how she had been praying for some one like me for 4 years, how she was looking forward to expanding her business, how she wanted to do big productions in the community, etc.
While we were down there, I spent the week looking for housing and found a cute condo with a nice lady who did not ask for a deposit or extra deposit because of our cats. She was very sweet and knew that the cats (or "the girls" as we call them...) are part of our family...
Then last Friday Brandon and I checked out of the hotel. I was to meet this woman at Starbucks for coffee and a planning meeting in regards to summer day camps. She was an hour and a half late to the meeting. Once she got there, she paid me.... then proceeded to tell me that I was not a good match for the school. .. that I was overly assertive (huh?), that I was inappropriate with/toward a student (I shook his hand...), that I don't have a servant' s heart (when was that a prerequisit to work there, and how does she know that, and how would she know that if I only spent about 2 hours a day with her... that is a lie straight from Satan himself...), and that she did not want me to work for her. She said she cried and prayed about it all night... and once she made the decision, she had a peace about it.... Yet, she asked me to forgive her. (If you have to ask for forgiveness, then you did NOT make the right decision.)
I have never been so betrayed and hurt in all my life. Seriously. I cried for 3 hours. I cried because I had totally committed to doing this. Effort and time and MONEY were spent to make all this happen. We were moving. We were moving within two weeks from last Friday, by March 1st. I cried because I felt like a lier.... telling everyone I'm gonna be teaching dance, I'm gonna be doing what I have always wanted to do, I'm moving to TN in three weeks, I'm.. I'm.. I'm...
I have forgiven her. What she did was WRONG. BUT, I want all of God's blessings. Somewhere deep down... and I mean waaaaayyy deeeeep dooooown in the very depths of my soul I have a tiny inkling of a feeling... The feeling that: I knew this was going to happen. Maybe that is God, yes.. I believe it is. God knew this would happen. He goes before us and takes care of us... and I believe that inkling is my Spirit saying, in whispered tones, "It's ok. You knew something, deep down was not right. You would not have been nearly as happy as you thought you would be... AND, God wants to give you the real, tangible desires of your heart..."
It makes me sad to admit I had that feeling. Maybe that's why it was hard to finally make a decision on the tiny condo, maybe that's why at the workshops I did not have real joy, but sad, frustrated feelings and thoughts... Maybe that's why I cried so hard. Maybe I knew that I didn't really want to do that... Maybe I was greiving about our move...
What do I really want?
I want to stay home full time and have Brandon's babies. There, I said it.
I want to have a house and a dog and babies and a garden...
And, I think that way deep down, I know that this is just a redirection and that God is going to give us blessings, abundance, and prosperity that will blow our mind! I believe that huge blessing is coming in March. I'll keep posting and let everyone know..
Thursday, February 1, 2007
In the Beginning.
We met in a bar. Seriously. Much to the chagrin of my Southern Baptist parents. A whirlwind romance ensued. Within 4 weeks of meeting, we KNEW we were to marry and spend our lives together, seeking the adventure of following God's will for our lives.
It was suppose to be a girls night out. Just Laura and me. We were both single women in our late twenties teaching middle school, and we needed a night out, a night when and where we could wear sexy clothes, away from our pubescent students. My rules, which I conveyed to her over and over, were: 1. We were not out to pick up a guy. 2. We were not to become intoxicated. I wanted to have maybe one drink and dance, dance, dance.
Rusty and Clint showed up at Laura's apartment. Lisa was already there when I arrived, and on the verge of complete intoxication. Rusty was about six feet tall or taller, bald, shiney head, and an old Western, cowboy style mustache. Clint was an average guy, completely smitten with Lisa. Rusty was knocking back beers before we left. I was mad. Mad at Laura. This was suppose to be a GIRLS NIGHT ONLY!! What part of that did she NOT understand? I was dealing with middle school kids everyday, in a SMALL Southern town. I wanted to get out, kick up my heals, and have a good time hanging out with my girlfriend.
The ride to the bar seemed to go on forever. Clint pulled the huge white, Dulley truck into the parking lot of this old Victorian home, with a neon sign that read "Sassy Anne's." I could hear my mother's voice in my head. All she said was my name, in that disapproving tone, "Stacey..." Which means: You know this is not a good idea, What have you gotten yourself into, Your Daddy and I did not raise you this way... Yes, she said all that by just saying my name. (Someday I, too, will have that power.)
Once we all piled out of the truck and filed into the bar, our gaggle seemed to dissipate. I lost track of Clint and Lisa. Laura was cattin' around for guys. Oh, then there was Rusty, who seemed fascinated by me. Grrrrr. The bar itself was really unique. Dark, hardwood everywhere, with a bar down stairs and a bar upstairs. The upstairs bar had the bar area, with a dining-style set-up, a tiny dance floor, a balcony with tables, and a small 4 piece band located opposite of the bar, under the balcony. I made a bee-line for the dance floor, trying to get lost in what I enjoy most: dancing. Rusty followed me. Grrr. Laura comes running up to me, tells me about some guy named Chad who she was chatting-up, and then says I have to meet his friend: a swing dancing theologian. Oh, geesh. I was not here to meet a man. I just wanted to have a fruity, tainted drink and dance til my legs screamed for me to stop. Fine. She introduced me to this guy named Brandon. He was a strawberry blond, green eyes, slender build, wearing khaki shorts, white-collared shirt, and Teva sandals. I noticed the large water and fire ichthus (a fish shape representing Christ and Christianity) tattoo on his left forearm. He was quiet, and very polite. We made quick introductions, then began a swing dance basic step on the tiny dance floor. Anything to dodge Rusty. As we danced, the band decided to play swing music for us, then the floor cleared and we were the only ones dancing. All eyes were on us. (It was like a scene out of a 1980's Michael J. Fox movie.) I realized he was a great partner. He knew how to spin me and dip me and lead me like a man should. Yes, I am still talking about dancing.
Once the song was over, the crowd clapped for us. We laughed and then decided to go to the bar downstairs, so we could have a conversation. We chatted, discussing his tattoo, which had the Hebrew characters for "servant" in the middle of the ichthus. I thought that any man who had "servant" tattooed on his arm had to be a special man. Then Rusty, who had had a few too many, mixed with ignorance and redneck ways, tried to pick a fight with Brandon. Evidently, Rusty had already claimed me as his own. Brandon leans over to me and says, "Don't worry. I deal with guys like him every day." He had been working with dysfunctional teens at a lock down facility, and was use to restraining drug-crazed teens. Brandon rationalized with Rusty, which was an amazing feat within itself. How does one rationalize with an irrational, drunk, horny bull?
The evening was waning into morning, and the motley crew I was with was ready to head out. Lisa was passed out in the truck. Rusty soon followed. Clint was the designated driver. Laura was gitty, still chatting with Chad, who I found out had a girlfriend. Hmmm. I told Brandon that I would like to see him again. We exchanged phone numbers. I kissed him on the cheek, then left.
He called me the next evening. (Score!) Within the first 5 minutes of the conversation I said to him, "Just because you met me in a bar does not mean that you are going to sleep with me." I was a virgin, and planned to remain so until I married. (Once married, I planned to give that virginity away as fast as he could take it!) He said, "Oh, really? Well, just because you met ME in a bar does not mean that you are going to sleep with ME!" He too was a virgin. "Ok, now that we have that straightened out..." After that, we talked for 3 hours. Our first date was 12 hours long.
We dated intensely for 2 weeks, then I flew to Australia, a trip I had been planning and saving for for a year. I was planning on spending 6 weeks in Australia and 3 weeks in Holland. Brandon took me to the airport. We prayed together in the airport, asking God to give protection on my journey. I had told Brandon that I was not going to be the first to say, "I love you."... Because I am a girl, and that's just what we do; we love easily, at least I do. And, I told him that if we were to marry, I wanted him to be established at the head of our household, and whether or not he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me was between him and God.
I traveled for over 30 hours. I missed him terribly. Once I landed in Perth, Western Australia, I exchanged my money and bought a phone card. The next afternoon, midnight in Knoxville, I called Brandon. He answered and I said, "Hi, this is Stacey." He said, "You are the most beautiful creature on God's green Earth, and I am madly in love with you! I have been sick for two days. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I love you!" I said, "I love you, too!" And I did. I knew I did. It seemed so natural to say it. He said, "No, did you hear me? I LOVE you?" I said, "Yes, I love you too!!" He responded, "Good. Now, how was your trip?"
He hates it when I tell that part. But to me, it is one of my most precious memories of our beginning. We spent all summer on the phone. After two weeks into my stay in Perth, we decided that we were to marry. I bought my wedding dress in Perth and had it shipped home. He bought my engagement ring with out me seeing it, which was perfect and gorgeous and precious.
June 9, 2001 we married. We began Team Wilhite. Still today we LOVE being married and thank God often that He saved and kept us for each other.
Sassy Anne's, that old Victorian bar in Knoxville, was a divine appointment. Neither of us had ever been there before, and we have never been back. However, that "horrible" night began the rest of my life.
And we are living...
Happily Ever After.
It was suppose to be a girls night out. Just Laura and me. We were both single women in our late twenties teaching middle school, and we needed a night out, a night when and where we could wear sexy clothes, away from our pubescent students. My rules, which I conveyed to her over and over, were: 1. We were not out to pick up a guy. 2. We were not to become intoxicated. I wanted to have maybe one drink and dance, dance, dance.
Rusty and Clint showed up at Laura's apartment. Lisa was already there when I arrived, and on the verge of complete intoxication. Rusty was about six feet tall or taller, bald, shiney head, and an old Western, cowboy style mustache. Clint was an average guy, completely smitten with Lisa. Rusty was knocking back beers before we left. I was mad. Mad at Laura. This was suppose to be a GIRLS NIGHT ONLY!! What part of that did she NOT understand? I was dealing with middle school kids everyday, in a SMALL Southern town. I wanted to get out, kick up my heals, and have a good time hanging out with my girlfriend.
The ride to the bar seemed to go on forever. Clint pulled the huge white, Dulley truck into the parking lot of this old Victorian home, with a neon sign that read "Sassy Anne's." I could hear my mother's voice in my head. All she said was my name, in that disapproving tone, "Stacey..." Which means: You know this is not a good idea, What have you gotten yourself into, Your Daddy and I did not raise you this way... Yes, she said all that by just saying my name. (Someday I, too, will have that power.)
Once we all piled out of the truck and filed into the bar, our gaggle seemed to dissipate. I lost track of Clint and Lisa. Laura was cattin' around for guys. Oh, then there was Rusty, who seemed fascinated by me. Grrrrr. The bar itself was really unique. Dark, hardwood everywhere, with a bar down stairs and a bar upstairs. The upstairs bar had the bar area, with a dining-style set-up, a tiny dance floor, a balcony with tables, and a small 4 piece band located opposite of the bar, under the balcony. I made a bee-line for the dance floor, trying to get lost in what I enjoy most: dancing. Rusty followed me. Grrr. Laura comes running up to me, tells me about some guy named Chad who she was chatting-up, and then says I have to meet his friend: a swing dancing theologian. Oh, geesh. I was not here to meet a man. I just wanted to have a fruity, tainted drink and dance til my legs screamed for me to stop. Fine. She introduced me to this guy named Brandon. He was a strawberry blond, green eyes, slender build, wearing khaki shorts, white-collared shirt, and Teva sandals. I noticed the large water and fire ichthus (a fish shape representing Christ and Christianity) tattoo on his left forearm. He was quiet, and very polite. We made quick introductions, then began a swing dance basic step on the tiny dance floor. Anything to dodge Rusty. As we danced, the band decided to play swing music for us, then the floor cleared and we were the only ones dancing. All eyes were on us. (It was like a scene out of a 1980's Michael J. Fox movie.) I realized he was a great partner. He knew how to spin me and dip me and lead me like a man should. Yes, I am still talking about dancing.
Once the song was over, the crowd clapped for us. We laughed and then decided to go to the bar downstairs, so we could have a conversation. We chatted, discussing his tattoo, which had the Hebrew characters for "servant" in the middle of the ichthus. I thought that any man who had "servant" tattooed on his arm had to be a special man. Then Rusty, who had had a few too many, mixed with ignorance and redneck ways, tried to pick a fight with Brandon. Evidently, Rusty had already claimed me as his own. Brandon leans over to me and says, "Don't worry. I deal with guys like him every day." He had been working with dysfunctional teens at a lock down facility, and was use to restraining drug-crazed teens. Brandon rationalized with Rusty, which was an amazing feat within itself. How does one rationalize with an irrational, drunk, horny bull?
The evening was waning into morning, and the motley crew I was with was ready to head out. Lisa was passed out in the truck. Rusty soon followed. Clint was the designated driver. Laura was gitty, still chatting with Chad, who I found out had a girlfriend. Hmmm. I told Brandon that I would like to see him again. We exchanged phone numbers. I kissed him on the cheek, then left.
He called me the next evening. (Score!) Within the first 5 minutes of the conversation I said to him, "Just because you met me in a bar does not mean that you are going to sleep with me." I was a virgin, and planned to remain so until I married. (Once married, I planned to give that virginity away as fast as he could take it!) He said, "Oh, really? Well, just because you met ME in a bar does not mean that you are going to sleep with ME!" He too was a virgin. "Ok, now that we have that straightened out..." After that, we talked for 3 hours. Our first date was 12 hours long.
We dated intensely for 2 weeks, then I flew to Australia, a trip I had been planning and saving for for a year. I was planning on spending 6 weeks in Australia and 3 weeks in Holland. Brandon took me to the airport. We prayed together in the airport, asking God to give protection on my journey. I had told Brandon that I was not going to be the first to say, "I love you."... Because I am a girl, and that's just what we do; we love easily, at least I do. And, I told him that if we were to marry, I wanted him to be established at the head of our household, and whether or not he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me was between him and God.
I traveled for over 30 hours. I missed him terribly. Once I landed in Perth, Western Australia, I exchanged my money and bought a phone card. The next afternoon, midnight in Knoxville, I called Brandon. He answered and I said, "Hi, this is Stacey." He said, "You are the most beautiful creature on God's green Earth, and I am madly in love with you! I have been sick for two days. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I love you!" I said, "I love you, too!" And I did. I knew I did. It seemed so natural to say it. He said, "No, did you hear me? I LOVE you?" I said, "Yes, I love you too!!" He responded, "Good. Now, how was your trip?"
He hates it when I tell that part. But to me, it is one of my most precious memories of our beginning. We spent all summer on the phone. After two weeks into my stay in Perth, we decided that we were to marry. I bought my wedding dress in Perth and had it shipped home. He bought my engagement ring with out me seeing it, which was perfect and gorgeous and precious.
June 9, 2001 we married. We began Team Wilhite. Still today we LOVE being married and thank God often that He saved and kept us for each other.
Sassy Anne's, that old Victorian bar in Knoxville, was a divine appointment. Neither of us had ever been there before, and we have never been back. However, that "horrible" night began the rest of my life.
And we are living...
Happily Ever After.
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