holy spirit

Forgiveness is Expensive…

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

Matthew 18:21-35 is weighing on me lately.

I’ll be the first to admit, forgiveness doesn’t come easily to me. Anyone who says it’s a linear process is lying or had an easy life (or wasn’t raised by an Italian, LOL).

Just when I think I’ve finally hit a place where I can say I’m free of the anger I’ve held against someone who wronged me, I’ll hear a rumor or learn something new, and gosh-darn-it, there I am again, mad as a wet hen & ready to throw hands.  I usually find myself gritting my teeth as I pray, “And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors,” as we see in Matthew 6.

I recently asked a friend of mine “do you think that’s supposed to be written that way? Is our forgiveness from Jesus contingent on how we forgive others, because if so, I am So Screwed.” She said she didn’t think so, because how impossible would that be?!?!? We’d never make it to Heaven.  For all of our sakes, I hope that’s right.

When I left my last position in management, it wasn’t exactly by choice, but it was because of a mental health downward spiral of anxiety,  anger, the bitterness of a former friend, & a complicated situation that became…well, I honestly think I can say it became abusive. A co-worker hurt me in a deep way, & I couldn’t separate the personal sabotage (some via self, some not) from my professional situation. I had to leave what I thought was my dream job, & it broke me in a way I hadn’t experienced before.

It was actually in retrospect,  a deliverance (that’s a story for another time). However, one thing I continue to face is the ongoing struggle to forgive the person who broke my trust & put me in the position to need to resign. It’s at admittedly fewer frequencies now, almost a year later; but it’s still there. I’m finally at the point where I can pray for them & where I genuinely have compassion for them…but would I run them over if I had the chance? Possibly (just being honest. Not proud of it, but honest.)?

Do I laugh when I hear they’re having a hard time? Yes.

Do I laugh when other people they’ve done this to, say mean jokes? Yes.

I am NOT proud of this. I am struggling,  & some days are easier than others. There are few people in my life that have hurt me/angered me that deeply, & I am limited in my experiences of having to forgive so much…

But then I am reminded of Matthew 18.

In Matthew 18, we learn about a man who had a massive debt to a king that he could never repay. The king ordered that his entire family be sold into slavery to repay the debt, & the man falls on his knees to beg for their forgiveness & freedom. He’s genuine, remorseful, and transparent in his desperation. The king is moved in his heart to forgive the man.

The man leaves the state of fear and imprisonment with undeniable freedom from his debt. He’s free! his family is free! The chains are gone! What does he do? Does he celebrate? Does he tell the world about the grace of the king who forgave him?

Nope.

He finds a friend who owes him like, $5, & gives him a beat down. He has his friend thrown in jail, & the servants in the king’s court find out about it. They go to the king and tell him what happened; the king is floored. He picks his jaw up off of the ground & calls his servants to drag the former debtor-turned-jerkface back before him. Although we have the cleaned up version of the text, I’d imagine it went something like this in the colloquial:

“ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!? ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!? DO YOU NOT SEE THE IRONY OF THIS SITUATION?!?!?! DO YOU HEAR THE WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH?!?!?!?!?!?!??

(Intonation is subjective, LOL.) The actual texts reads something like this:” ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. 33 And should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?’ 34 And in anger his master delivered him to the jailers,[f] until he should pay all his debt.” (ESV)

There are a couple of interesting points to be made here:

  1. The Obvious: The man was forgiven a HUGE debt–his family was even going to have to be sold into slavery to pay it back so this was a significant amount of money. He was going to lose everything he had. Have you ever been so far in debt that you knew there was no legal way out of it? Have you ever had to file for bankruptcy? It’s a devastating feeling of failure and shame–there’s nothing more gut-wrenching than to have to face your mistakes or the crumbling of your hopes & basically beg strangers to forgive you what you can’t pay back, knowing you could potentially lose the very roof over your head. It’s a horrible feeling, & this guy just had it all wiped away. He was free–more importantly, his FAMILY was free, & he had every reason in the world to celebrate in a huge way!
  2. The Arrogance: He beat the holy crap out of the guy that owed him like, $5, and had him thrown into jail. He was insanely entitled, acting like he was too good for his own good, and refusing to extend a modicum of grace to whom he deemed unworthy.
  3. The Comeuppance: The king’s flabbers were GASTED when he found out about the man’s actions to his “friend.” He couldn’t believe the man he had forgiven of so much, couldn’t do a fraction of the same to another human. He had him thrown in jail where he most likely rotted (who can pay anything back when they’re trapped in jail?!?) but do you know what it doesn’t say? It doesn’t say that the man’s FAMILY was thrown in jail. It doesn’t say the king took back their freedom, and we don’t know how they responded to the grace they had been given. I have to wonder what happened to them in this story. Did they recognize the gift that had been given to them? Did they share it with others? Did they realize what their husband/father had done? Do you think he ever truly repented for his entitlement? I have questions…and I have so, so much conviction.

God forgives us of our sins, freely…He died to pay the price for our sins, & He promises to let His Holy Spirit live within us to guide us to repentance. The Holy Spirit gives us discernment & acts as our moral compass in making the right choices. The Fruits of the Spirit (Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Faith, Gentleness, Self-Control, Galatians 5:23) are the things that we manifest in our lives when we’re walking closely to the Holy Spirit, and when we walk in forgiveness we get to see those things grow in a world that only wants to kill that harvest.

The world likes the fact that I wouldn’t be super angry if that former co-worker got hit by a bus. The world likes the fact that I have those thoughts & that I struggle to say, “God, forgive them as you have forgiven me. Help me forgive them as you have forgiven me. Forgive me while I wrestle with this, Lord–I am TRYING.” The world knows making jokes about their possible demise/termination/dive into a dumpster fire is way more fun than praying for them, right? But what does God say? He says to keep going on our journey to forgiveness.

Don’t beat up the person over $5 when you’ve been delivered out of spiritual bankruptcy.

I refuse to give up my inheritance in eternity over holding a grudge the size of a Value Meal.

This is difficult, friends. Some days are easier than others–again, it’s NOT linear, & it comes in waves. On Sunday, after I’ve sat in church & felt like I’m surrounded by like-minded people who worship the same God and have the same goals to “love Jesus & love people?” It’s so easy to say I forgive!!!!

On Friday, when the work week is long & I’m tired and frustrated? I’m just as likely to laugh at the thought of a tree falling on that person.

Forgiveness requires a constant discipline and focus on getting spiritually refueled and reminded of what we’re here for. We have been forgiven of so, so much—the Son of God died for us, to wipe away our sins & to love us for all eternity. What are these earthly offenses in the eyes of such love? What right do we have to hang on to them?!? What does it take, to remember what it cost Him to forgive us, verses what it costs us to forgive them? Our forgiveness cost Jesus EVERYTHING.

He says we are WORTH IT ALL.

To extend anything less than that to our fellow humans is to slap Him in the face and to say we’re better than His sacrifice.

OUCH.

Forgiveness requires support. This world is so crazy and anti-forgiveness, that I truly believe it requires us to be in a community of like-minded believers in Jesus to have the support that we need to forgive those that have hurt us. There’s far more people in this world that say “burn them down,” than say, “let it go.” When you offer to forgive someone, you often find yourself on the other end of someone else’s ire because they can’t see how you could possibly forgive that person for what they did. It’s because you know you’re not alone. You have the love of Jesus, and you have a group of believers you can take it to that will lift you up in prayer and walk with you through the process. You’re not extending an olive branch from a desert.

Forgiveness requires accountability. When you’re harboring anger or hurt against someone and you have those like-minded believers, they are responsible to lovingly hold you accountable. You’re responsible to admit that you’re struggling. You can’t have freedom in Jesus when you’re chained up in unforgiveness–you have to lay it down before Him. We don’t always see that ourselves. Sometimes it takes someone who loves us well enough to say, “Hey–I see you. You know what you’re doing isn’t right. Lay down your $5 anger and let Jesus wash you in His priceless forgiveness and freedom.” The person that loves you enough to hold you accountable like that, in love? What a gift they are in your life!! They love you too much to leave you in your debtor’s prison!!!

Far too often, we try to hold our brother or sister accountable & they respond in anger (the converse is also true). We live in a society that doesn’t value listening or critical thinking. Instead of hearing, “I love you enough to say this needs to be fixed,” we hear, “Well, you’re just wrong and you need to get over yourself.” I’m not going to say that it’s sometimes said that way–it is and I would know–but we’re generally not very good at accepting correction and/or accountability. We’d rather talk about all of the ways we’re right and how we were wronged, than to be humble & say, “You’re right. I’m harboring unforgiveness.”

I know I don’t like to hear it when I’m on the receiving end…and truthfully, I really don’t like to be on the telling end, because I know who I am and that I have NO ROOM to talk. How can I tell someone they need to extend forgiveness when I just joked about someone getting hit by a bus?!?!? I’m on the same struggle…but maybe that makes me even more accountable to have that hard conversation.

I’ve been in situations where I’ve tried to lovingly tell someone they needed to forgive, even when I didn’t have the whole story. It wasn’t received well; I was personally attacked, & it changed our relationship in ways I still grieve. It impacted my authenticity with them; however, it also drove me closer to God & to finding a body of believers I have consistent communion with in one way or another. I learned I can’t take that big of a leap without support. It’s really hard to have accountability when your village is 2-3 people. It tends to become a hive-mind situation rather than an iron-sharpening-iron situation that you get in a group, & it was a big lesson to me.

Forgiveness & accountability can cost you relationships & push you to walk in communities you were not expecting & didn’t know you needed. It can isolate you from the ones you thought had your back but it can also free you from the paralyzing constraints of feeling like you have to agree with everyone. When your circle of community is so small, you often feel like you have to agree in order to have peace. The goal isn’t peace (peace is a byproduct, a fruit); rather, the goal is GROWTH and without forgiveness? You’re dead in a cell somewhere.

Forgiveness is freedom and freedom is what fuels gratitude…gratitude begets love and love? Love makes all of the hard stuff worth it and then some. When we’re no longer chained down to what keeps us in a dungeon, we’re able to move upwards, to lift each other and to be propelled by the Holy Spirit. We have no strings tying us to worldly thoughts & prisons! There’s a translation of The Lord’s Prayer from Aramaic that I found so interesting: “And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors ” refers to “releasing the tangled threads that bind us,” to let go of our seen and secret sins, as we forgive others of their seen and secret sins. I thought that was fascinating–I’ve been sewing more lately, & nothing is more frustrating than when the thread gets tangled and I have to undo everything I’ve just done. When you think about those threads being released, you get a visceral sense of the exhale you release when you’re done sorting it all out–that’s an image I’d never tied into the Lord’s Prayer before. Yet if you don’t untangle those threads and you try to keep sewing? You end up with a useless mess (& a lot of swearing, at least for me).

I guess if this post is to say anything, it’s to say that we have to #1, be in a community of other believers. I fight for it–I’ve seen the very best of how a Church can function (a body, not a building) & I know that community is how our relationship with God survives in this crazy world. #2, we need to hold each other accountable in the areas of forgiveness in particular, because these grudges and hurts we carry are keeping us spiritually imprisoned. Eventually, they’ll kill off the fruits of the Spirit in our lives & our walk with Jesus will go stagnant and moldy. And #3, we need to discipline ourselves to forgive wholeheartedly, even if it’s not a linear process. My Mama often reminds me to “Say it til’ you mean it.” I’m there–Every day when I pray for my own forgiveness, I pray that I will also forgive those that have sinned against me. I name them. I know the day will come when my compassion will be stirred to be bigger than my hurt, and I will be free of the anger that flares up when I hear their name. I’ll get there–I’m close (and then most likely, someone else will make The List).

There are BIG OFFENSES that we carry–people that hurt us, people that hurt our family, people that smeared our reputation or people who attacked us. We may even have encountered people that did or said terrible, murderous things….but We Have A Choice. We choose how big their impact will have on our spiritual life. Will we let them eclipse the freedom we have been given, the forgiveness Jesus has bestowed on us? Will we let them steal even more from us and take our joy? To keep us in chains?

Or will we lay them down, minute-by-minute, day-by-day, as often as the Holy Spirit brings the person before our thoughts, until our lip no longer curls up when we hear their name or think about what they did to us? Will we share our hurts with our community of believers and accept their support as we climb up out of our dungeons? Will we take the hand of accountability when it’s offered, to grow and become more & more like Jesus? Will we choose to love those who tried to break us, like He loves us in spite of how our sins broke Him? It doesn’t mean we become a doormat and welcome them back in to abuse us, but it DOES mean we take away their power to hold our thoughts and emotions captive. When we hear their name, we hear it how Jesus says it. When we say their name, we say it how Jesus says it, with the hope that they will hear His tender call to Him…when we give these things over to Him, He gives us His heart for those that have hurt us, His compassion and His mercy. He restores and renews all of the imprisoned places in us that have become gangrenous….He gives us new life in ways no one can ever take back.

When we choose to forgive, whatever it costs us in this world, will never be worth what we gain in the next. His love and His grace pour out freely on us, even as we struggle to share it with others…yet He gives it in abundance. He frees us, and He gives us what we need to walk out of the prisons of anger and resentment into His amazing grace…

I have a long way to go…but I’m GOING…and I hope we can all go into new areas of forgiveness, together. ❤

“Phenomenal cosmic powers! (Itttttty Bitty Living Space)!!”

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

I was listening to a theologian today who said something like, “God is not a genie. What kind of power would He truly have if He were nothing more than a slave to our desires?” That’s a loose paraphrase from Brenna Blain, as she was interviewed by Lecrae on his podcast, “The Deep End.” Of course, this sent me down a rabbit hole…

I mean, what would it be like, if God was some kind of mystical genie? It makes me think of when I studied apologetics in high school & college, learning the various world views and a biblical response. Seeing the all-powerful, omniscient Being we know as the Creator of All reduced to a mystical vending machine for mankind–how sad is that? How dull & boring? And how difficult would that be for those of us who have experienced hardship or suffering–we didn’t get what we wanted from the Magical Mystical Vending Machine, so we must be hated by the heavens…

Sounds crazy, right?

But is it?

So many people live with resentment towards God because they didn’t get what they wanted…they prayed, they desired, they waited, fasted, prayed some more, but they didn’t. Get. What. They. Asked. For…So many people have been fed the lies of, “you have what you say,” or they laser-focus in on, “you have not because you ask not.” We live with mindsets that “bad” things that happen in our lives are a direct result of our own sin, & by consequence, if we could only be holy enough we’d be free of those things. We look at others; we see their beautiful homes or perfect families, & we think, “God loves them more because have you seen the thread count on their sheets?!?!”

We treat God like He is dependent on us & our requests or comfort, instead of being wholly dependent on Him…

We look at the things around us, in front of us, online, etc., as indicators of His love or grace and as reflections of our own unworthiness or intellect.

We grow increasingly resentful of those who have it “easier” by our perceptions, & at some point, we rage at God because our lives don’t look like theirs…and we sit in judgment of God Himself.

I say “we” because I do this, myself. I try not to, but there are times when I will unplug from social media because the vacations I see families going on, hurt. The houses I see people living in, hurt. My jealousy is a real issue, & it’s taken years to get to a point where I recognize it as it seeps in. I have to discipline myself to physically back away from the things that expose me to it. It’s almost addicting–I like the catty comments and snobby zings I say to myself when I see someone post something I’d like to have/eat/do/drive. I like the snarky inner-Mean Girl that comes out when I’m being Petty Betty on the phone with a certain friend. I’m sarcastic & shady, & it’s funny…but is it Godly? Um….nope. It’s not just the jealousy that’s ungodly…it’s the fact that at it’s best, this jealousy is unwarranted. At it’s worst, it makes me look at God & ask Him why am I not good enough for THAT kind of lifestyle? For that kind of blessing?!?

I get focused on and jealous of the wrong things, & in doing so, I put God in the box of being a Magical, Mystical Vending Machine…

Y’all know my story–I’ve been through some stuff, & there are times when I have wrestled with the “why” to the point that I have a perpetually broken hip. I came to a point when I realized there were no guarantees that we will have any kind of understanding on this side of Heaven. It’s humanism–it’s a sense of entitlement, to think that we have to have all of the answers behind what happens, or that we deserve to know. A friend of mine said the other day that “if we had understanding, we wouldn’t need faith.”

WOW.

When we have understanding of things, we rationalize; we predict. We figure out how we can do it ourselves, & we write God out of the equation–we say in so many words, “what do we need You for? We got this.” We depend on ourselves for solutions & provisions instead of running full-throttle into His arms. When we don’t find those solutions? When we don’t get what we want? Instead of blaming ourselves for losing focus on Him, we put BLAME on Him…

I hear people criticize Christianity with statements like, “if God is real, why do bad things happen to good people?” We want an answer–I mean, let’s be real, I want an answer to that question. People die–children die, people get sick, pets die–we live in a broken world that is physically & spiritually cancerous, filled with toxicity & generations-upon-generations of darkness. We expect to have human, physical bodies that get 100% Divine Protection because we’re covered under the Blood of Jesus, but that’s not written anywhere. We’re spiritually Children of God, but for now, we still live in this physical world. That has consequences (BTW, the AI response to, “Does God Protect Us from Sickness? is fascinating) even if we live as cleanly as possible. We’re only promised a life free of sickness and death in Heaven (Revelations 21:4).

I know I’ve written about this before, but I really feel like this year, God is reiterating that this world is not the place to get comfortable (I almost got really transparent here about what I’d rather be doing that is comfortable but I didn’t want to get clocked, LOL). This world is ill…it’s a poison that we’ve all taken in, and the longer we’re here, the more we’re comfortable drinking it up. The endless journey we’re on to “look here,” or “look here” leads us to a life that’s jealous, empty and unsatisfied. We keep drinking but we’re never full until we meet the Living Water of Jesus…and when we sober up, we see how many people are still around us, drunk off of ego, envy and hollow goals.

I was raised with a certain kind of prosperity gospel, & when it didn’t work out for me, I almost lost my faith. I certainly lost the belief that Jesus loved me; in fact, listening to Francis Chan talk about his own struggles with radically accepting the love of God validated that this is a common battle for many of us. We think getting our answers is evidence that God loves us. We treat God like we have a transactional faith, where we do this, & He does that. We figure out the Magic Words or the Magic Action, and presto! He gives us a solution! We press the, “explain Yourself” button on the Magical, Mystical Vending Machine & we reject the Love of God when we don’t hear or get an answer…

He’s not a slave to our questions.

He’s not a genie to grant our wishes.

God is predictable only in that He has Love for us…but not in how He shows His Love.

When we alter the focus of our lives to seek His ways, to seek His desire for our lives, everything else gets blurry–all of the “stuff;” all of the vacations; all of the answers we think we “have” to have–it all fades away into the background, & it’s replaced with a faith in solidly knowing that His ways are Good. It’s replaced with a genuine trust in Him, and a genuine denial of our entitlement to any answer other than “Jesus.”

My God is not a slave, and though we think in our society that worshipping an unseen Deity confines us to some sort of guilt-ridden servitude, I’d counter with the fact that my worship of Jesus as a loving Savior frees me to a life filled with awe…

I’m a broken human being, deeply flawed & fully dependent on the redeeming love of God. I make mistakes; I say dumb things; I get aggravated; I hold grudges, and yes, as aforementioned, I get jealous with a capital “J” like a Jonas Brother. I’m a work in progress (& that’s not an excuse for when I fail). It’s a beautiful thing, knowing there is forgiveness and mercy in Jesus & that He loves us so much that His Holy Spirit leads us to true repentence…to hearing that conviction–not condemnation–that urges us to seek His grace. He guides us to making real changes to become more like Him, even as we swim upstream in a world that wants drown us into homogeny.

We aren’t serving a Magical, Mystical Vending Machine.

We are worshipping the Shepherd…the Lion…the Savior…the Counselor…the Provider…the Father…the Creator…the Lord….

And He loves us, wholeheartedly.

“You Are Loved.”

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

I woke up this morning to this note on the bathroom sink:

“Hey, Mom, Jericho here. Just wanted you to know, take care of yourself and that you are loved. Love, Jericho.”

This note has now been permanently scanned into my online drive and tacked to the corkboard in my office where it shall remain in perpetuity.

This note may wind up eventually tattooed somewhere that remains to be seen.

This note both undoes me & revives me simultaneously, in the best & worst ways…

My son was 2 years old when I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. Thyroid cancer is the “good kind” of cancer, they say–it’s the kind where they remove the issue, supplement you with Thyroid Replacement Hormones, and send you on your merry way. Those that know me well, know this has not been my journey; I’ve had clinically-detectable thyroid cancer for almost 10 years now. “Clinically detectable” means that it’s still there (“residual activity in thyroid bed”), but not in so many levels that they can go in and physically remove it. I liken it to having a time-bomb in your neck, just waiting for it to either die or explode. It can be a mental process, for lack of a better word, to ignore it. On the plus side, thyroid cancer is notoriously slowwwwww, so although my tumor markers have gone up-&-down over the years, I’ve never gone so high that I’ve had to have a second surgery (there are plenty of times where I’ve begged them to just take out the remaining lymph nodes in my neck so that there wouldn’t be anywhere else for those booger cells to hide!!!).

It’s not uncommon for me to say the removal of my thyroid ruined my life. Getting my medicine titrated correctly has been a process, especially with the weight loss; the initial determination to figure out what medicine would work for me, darn near killed me. The thought is to keep my TSH levels so suppressed, that it makes an unfriendly environment for the tumor markers, & they’ll eventually, hopefully, just DIE (can we get on with it already?!?) Issues with diabetes, sleep apnea, & my legs/feet have been ongoing since my thyroid was removed…but the worst thing that’s happened since my thyroidectomy has been, hands down, the FATIGUE.

This is not like, “ohmygosh, I’m TIRED.” This is not like, “I’ve been up all night with a crying baby & now I have to go to work,” tired. This is not even like, “it’s finals’ week & I have 4 papers, 3 tests, and a volcano to make,” tired. This is literally like some evil being sneaks up behind you, cuts off your ankles & throws a lead cloak over you as you fall to the ground, dead in the water, can’t move/think/function, TIRED, & it hits out of nowhere. I usually say, “oh, look, someone’s unplugged me,” & down I go…

I’m truckin’ along yesterday, got home from church, started working on the laundry (I normally do this on Saturday, but we went to an art show on Saturday, so please don’t judge me for doing chores on a Sunday), hung up a few things in the sunroom, & stopped to admire my work….BOOM. I’m on the couch. “Just give me a few minutes.”

My son brought me a blanket & a pillow. David made some dinner. I laid there & took my few minutes. They both know how this goes–they know once it hits, I’m dead weight. I think they hate it as much as I do, because it’s not a good look to see your mom/wife deflate like a sad balloon.

It affects them as well, & I truly hate that.

I hate that I’ve had to cancel plans, or that I have to be so strict about weeknight activities (I can’t really do them, or there’s hell to pay the next day). I don’t like going to bed at 8:00pm. I have to stay disciplined about what I commit to, because there’s just no gas in the tank & I need to stay employed. Now that I’m back in an office full-time, I have to prioritize how much I do in my non-working hours, because otherwise, things get skewed. I have to be selfish with my time & protect it in ways I’ve never really committed to, before.

I now know that when I don’t establish & protect boundaries related to how I spend my time & energy, that fatigue leads to major issues—brain fog, sickness, impulse-control problems. My mental health swiftly declines, & I wind up in crisis mode, along with my family. It’s not just about my health–it’s about theirs, too–which is fuel for the need to protect myself and them. After what I went through last year, I realized that I had my priorities out-of-whack & I am grateful for the learning experience, even though it was painful. I will fiercely protect what I’ve learned, & I am trying to do what I need to so that I don’t have to repeat the process.

My son hasn’t had the experience of knowing me pre-thyroidectomy, & there’s a certain sadness that comes with that. He’s seen the fallout–the mental & physical struggle–& he’s learned compassion. Understanding is hard for him–he’s an only child, & he gets all of the attention & assistance he needs, so he doesn’t have a true understanding of what it’s like to have to figure things out on his own–but he’s learning sympathy (& that note just UNDID me–what a sweet kid he is!!!!!!!!!). My husband has been along for one heck of a ride; half of our marriage has been taken over in many ways by the collateral damage my thyroid cancer has caused. I’m not on this journey alone, & he’s been by my side. Our little household has rallied around me. It’s messier than I’d like for it to be, but it’s so full of love–that note from my son this morning was a huge, gigantic hug that reminded me that even when Monday morning slaps me in the face, I’m coming back home to people that love me, & it makes it all worth it.

I feel like a burden to my household, but I know that’s the enemy talking. God reminds me that I am loved, that I’m His, & that the sun is continuing to rise. He reminds me there is tremendous peace & hope with Him, & that He is using this journey to teach me new ways of relying on Him. He reminds me to hold onto my gratitude, & not to let the enemy twist my focus onto the things that frustrate me–that’s a waste of my energy, & that’s too precious to lose on something like that. Gratitude revives our spirits–it ‘s like in Monsters, Inc., where they find out that laughter is a better fuel than screaming.

We really get much farther in thinking about what we’re grateful for, than in what’s weighing us down.

In my last blog, I mentioned a few things that I’ve struggled with in the last 6 months or so, mostly related to some bitterness associated with a former friend. My therapist this week encouraged me to begin to focus on gratitude, & while I at first felt like I was being shamed for grieving all of the losses & relationship issues, I then realized she was correct: It is time to begin a season of gratitude. I am thankful for a great many things that had to do with that former friend. She led me to a time of employment that made a huge impact on my career & my self-esteem. Without that season, I wouldn’t have developed my personal mission statement. Without that season, I wouldn’t have befriended Jen, Jacque, & Stephen, three people who have changed my life. Without that season, I wouldn’t have been exposed to such a beautiful, diverse culture that I was privileged to be around in that place of employment.

Without that season & without those relationships, I wouldn’t have realized that I am worthy of so much–I am worthy of boundaries. I am worthy of standing up for myself. I am worthy, through Christ, of being fought for. That former friend led me to those three friends, who gave me the gift of solidarity. They teach me every day, along with my other friends, along with my husband and my son, that I Am Not Alone, & that life is GOOD, even when it’s hard.

When I am out of gas, when I can’t lift my head, I have a team of family & friends who point me to gratitude & that takes me to Jesus…and we can make it one more trip around the sun.

We got this.

He’s got me.

And I. Am. Loved.

A Disjointed Hot Mess of Getting My Head On Straight, AKA, “Why Am I Posting After Midnight?!?”

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

Doing that thing I’m never supposed to do…getting on the computer way too late at night, knowing it’s a bad idea but doing it anyway…

I’m quite sure someone will be offended by the time I finish processing whatever is pricking at my conscience, because as we all know, I process by writing and I’m dumb enough to put it online (“dumb enough?” Is it actually dumb? Or is it too genuine to be “comfortable?”).

I’m quite sure the Karens of the world will have their time clucking their tongues and clickety-clacking their keyboards to tell me how I’m not holy enough, or I’m not praying hard enough, or I’m not spiritual enough or whatever, and I’m sure they’re right, but that doesn’t make anyone feel any better, now does it?

KAREN

I’m not going to blame this on Mother’s Day (it sucked, don’t ask, and no, I don’t understand why. Grief is unpredictable, ‘k?). I’m not going to blame this on work stress (do I still have a job? Mandatory pay cuts? A cut in hours? All options, nothing decided, and we’re floating in a pool of what-the-heck-is-going-on?!?). I’m not going to blame this on COVID-19 (although I will tell you that my personal state of mental health is on the decline, if I’m being honest). I’m not going to blame this on the crappy remarks my husband made to me today, or that I made back to him (I don’t remember who started it, but we’re sick of being around each other right now, and I’m sick-to-death of sitting on the couch). I will blame this on the apparently 15 pounds worth of anxiety-eating I’ve done to cope with the last 9 weeks, and that falls squarely on my super-fat shoulders.

Now I’m ticked at myself for failing so horribly (really, what did I expect??!?!?  I’ve baked more in the past 9 weeks than I have ever before, during a non-Christmas season. David’s been doing all of the cooking, and he doesn’t know how to cook without going all Paula-Deen on everything, which is delicious, but terrible–and why I gained #20 right after we got married—and why I gained #15 being stuck in the house with him for 9 weeks, although we all know I could have gotten my fat rear up from the couch and made my own dang food. I didn’t, and now I feel horrible, I look like crap, and my blood pressure is through the roof). I have to put the brakes on EVERYTHING, and that sucks, because PEANUT M&MS ARE AMAZING, and no, David had nothing to do with those. Those are all on me…and on my hips.

I’m struggling with feeling really anxious, really sad, and really, really stressed out…and I know I’m not alone, but I feel like I am. I don’t feel like I can pick up a phone and tell anyone that I’m in a funk, because that’s not uplifting, and aren’t I supposed to be FRICKIN’ UPLIFTING?!?!?!  Because right now, all I am is a giant lead balloon in a forgiving pair of leggings and a piece of fried chicken.

I feel like a giant &$*%&$ failure in every possible facet of my life.

There–I said it. And now it’s permanently embedded into Cyberspace. CASSIDY FEELS LIKE A GIANT &(*$%&($ FAILURE.

Honey-LaBronx-Crying-Mascara

(We interrupt this rant to disclose that searching for a meme of a crying drag queen was enough to make me laugh. Those who know me know I love Jesus…and I also love drag queens. That’s an entirely different discussion. We digress.)

So, yes, much like the mascara on the photograph above, I feel like a failure/hot mess. The problem with getting something that sounds amazing (like working from home, or more sleep–is there EVER enough sleep?!? Not when you don’t have a thyroid, truth) is that over time, it becomes laced with uncertainties and eventually, tinged with paranoia. I’ve said for a few weeks now that everything feels very unsteady, and it’s not a good environment for me to try to live/work/be confronted with 24/7. Tension is building, and I’m not the only one. I’m internalizing more…I’m feeling more and more isolated and bleak and super-Don’t Touch-Me-ish (one can only be a landing mat for a projectile 7-year old without it taking a toll).

brak

David’s getting a shorter fuse. Jericho doesn’t want anything to do with homework and has turned into a screen addict who shrieks like he’s being beaten alive if we tell him the TV needs to be turned off (SERIOUSLY, PUPPET STEVE ON YOUTUBE, IF WE EVER MEET IN PERSON I AM SILENCING YOU WITH A GLUE GUN.). (And yes, KAREN, we know we did this. WE ARE TERRIBLE PARENTS, OKAY?!?!   I SAID IT!!!  Just add it to the reasons why I feel like a GIANT (*$&%(* FAILURE.) Going into this summer, my biggest fear is that if I don’t come up with some kind of schedule or curriculum, both of the guys in my house are going to get sucked into some weird vortex of TV/Legos/YouTube and I will never see any of them again…which is fine, because I will have buried myself with my headphones and my tablet, under a pile of blankets where I will binge watch “Drag Race” until I’ve eaten myself to death with the seemingly-endless bag of Peanut M&Ms that I have discovered. THEN the guys can watch my progress on television on “My 600lb Life,” and we’ll all feel like we’re learning about each other again. 

Yep…We’re not in our happy place.

Jericho has been spending a bit of time during the week at my parents’ house during our lockdown. I know that’s controversial, but I live in a 1,000sq. ft. townhouse. My parents live in a house that’s around 3x the size, out in the country, with a bigger backyard and far more to do outdoors. This gives me a bit of time to have some peace in my week (as I’m still working from home…good times) and for David to continue looking for a job (that’s another key point of stress. What do we do if he finds a job? There aren’t any childcare options right now. The “what ifs” are endless, right?). I’ve not seen my parents, as I’m stuck in “pause” regarding health issues right now (and every doctor I have is gonna be livid at the weight gain, so I’m already preparing to hear that lecture), so I miss them. I miss my job (does that make me a terrible mother? To say that I miss being at my office?!?  See, that’s another foothold for “mom guilt”–there are SO MANY.), and I truly, deeply miss my church (Zoom is meh.).

You know what?

The longer I sit here and type about how much everything sucks, the more I am reminded that THIS SUCKS FOR EVERYBODEEEEEE.

GROVER

I’m not special, you’re not special, and yeah, it’s okay for us to take a few minutes and gripe about it. From my blog history, it’s apparent that I’ve been griping about it for a few weeks, so yeah, I’m having some difficulties processing things and then dropping them. Whether that’s because I was raised by an Italian, or because I’m a vengeful harpy, who knows?

THIS SUCKS.

You can say it with me–it’s allowed. This is a safe place.

coronasucks

I know we’re hopefully coming to the end of the lockdown; just this week, I think I’ve officially got a true back-to-the-office date. I think we’ll get through this much more safely if people would get over themselves and wear a dang mask (they’re an “it” fashion accessory now, darling–you can even get them on Zulily!), we’d get through this a bit faster. I kinda think I may stick with wearing one during every flu season forever, because the flu I caught in February was WALKING DEATH, and I’m quite sure a face mask might have kept me from getting it…unless I got it from the germ magnet known as my child…hmm. But if people would just obey the CDC recommendations and wear a silly mask, what harm could it do? JUST DO IT, and get us out of this sooner!!!!!!

Just sitting down and writing things out is helpful for me–I know it’s oversharing, but at least by the end of this, I can sit here and say that my thought processes are linear. I’m not so scattered all over the place, getting slapped in the face by every emotion and feeling of failure that floats my way. I know it’s all a trick of the Enemy to get in my head and bury me–I hate to admit it, but it’s working, because I feel buried under all of this.

I can recognize the attack, but I’m truly so freaked out/worn out that all I can do is roll over and surrender. I haven’t yet, but I’m afraid that I will. I don’t feel like I’m strong enough to put my head up and to fight back, or even to pray enough to fight back. I can laugh at my own patheticness, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare me.

The other night, I tried to pray for some kind of peace or relief. I prayed myself to sleep (which is kind of normal for me), but I wasn’t making any sense to myself. It was mostly just me saying, “Jesus…please.” That’s all I got.  My brain is such a mess that I can’t even talk to God naturally. Like, I’m having to tell myself, “Girl, get yourself together and TALK TO HIM!!!!”

But you know what?

I don’t have to get myself together to talk to Him.

I don’t have to sit down and write a blog about how I feel like an epic failure, because He knows how I feel and He knows the truth. He knows every insecurity and He remembers them ALL (I don’t even remember them all. That’s ridiculous.). I don’t have to get “linear” for Him, because He knows me, mess and all, and even though it’s hard for me to believe,

He loves me.

I am without a doubt, a mess.

queen

Most of the time, I don’t want to stop and try to sort me out, because IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

grief

I love this graphic–I’ve seen it before, but it’s so perfect.  Grief isn’t something that exists in one moment, in one event of your life, regardless of how “huge” that moment is. Grief can be experienced during any kind of major transition, and baby, WE ARE GOING THROUGH TRANSITION. This whole lockdown experience is traumatic on many different levels, for many different people….for people who look like they have the “perfect” life, and for people who are in the trenches. We’re all unified by this one theme right now: STRESS.

There’s no coincidence that the word, “pandemic” and “panic” sound the same, and I think every time the word is spoken aloud, that energy goes into the atmosphere and we are in the thick of it!!! It’s oppressive, right?!?!  I can’t be the only one who feels like the sky weighs a million pounds right now.

Constant reminders in the media and the press of death, sadness, grief, fear…constant attacks on the mind that torment (and we all know who the author of torment is…stupid jerk). We’re getting hit from every angle by news that’s designed to destroy our morale and to basically fry our hope. I read an article from the Psychiatric Times that mentioned Camus’ The Plague. I’d forgotten about Camus, but from what I remember, he was an existentialist who had no hope. The story was about a town that lost half of its inhabitants due to a plague (thus, the title. Nice.). The article talks about the weight of “death anxiety,” which sounds a bit dramatic (even to me) and about how there is trauma in the persistent, unrelenting state that we’re in right now.

No wonder I feel like crap.

It’s literally in the atmosphere. UGH.

When all of this started, I thought, “YES, GURRL!!!!  You will read the books! You’ll start a workout plan!  You’ll learn new things and GET AWESOME,” not, “Your life will be boring as h*ll, your kid will mutiny, and you’ll get fat again.” I started the books…I WILL get through at least one of them. And yes, I have undertaken some creative projects (lots of painting. Too many flamingos…as if there could EVER be too many flamingos. Baking…which I like way too much of….and sewing! I’m learning to sew, and yes, my face masks are DOPE.). I was doing really well at forcing my household to go on daily walks with me until last week’s cold snap, and I can tell that was a bad idea, because walking really helps my back. So that’s getting restarted, for sure.

But truth be told, I haven’t done all of the things I’d hoped, so it adds a layer to being disappointed with myself…can I just write on all of the mirrors that GOD IS NOT DISAPPOINTED WITH ME?!? My weight or my achievements and/or lack thereof does not make God love me (or you) any less, darn it, so why do I let them make ME love me less?!?  BLAH.

The “Psychiatry Times” article had an interesting quote that, “death anxiety may also result in the following positive opportunities and growth-oriented goals:

• Valuing creativity and creative achievement22

• Generativity23

• Meaning making

• Mindfulness and meditation24

• Positive health behavior changes25

• Prioritizing growth-oriented goals and positive standards26″

Likewise, numerous websites have shown this graphic for finding the positives during this time:

coronacalm

I think there’s a fine line between looking at these great ideas, trying to do them or not doing them, and then using those outcomes by which to judge ourselves. I’m guilty of that, as seen above.

I’m also guilty of writing blogs that are way too long, waaaay past my bedtime, so I gotta wrap this up without feeling added guilt at the fact that I’m crap at writing conclusions (I should just end this here with a, “Bye!”). LOL!

I think I’m just going to say that I, and probably you, have to give ourselves some credit. We’re surviving a pandemic…it’s not only a viral pandemic; it’s a pandemic of misinformation, of unrealistic goals, and of misunderstood, confusing presumptions that affect us on every level. It’s a pandemic that has kids caught in the middle, and that’s a hard one to accept and to work with (I still don’t know how to explain all of this to my kiddo or how we’re going to get back into the routine I swore I wouldn’t let us get out of). It’s a giant ball of confusion and chaos in a world that was already a flippin’ disaster, and now we’re in deep. I’m struggling with feeling buried, and I’d wager that you might be, too, if you’re still reading all of this.

Peace is a concept that sounds so refreshing and so restorative…the other night, when I said I was trying to pray and all I could get out was, “Jesus, please?” PEACE was what I needed, what I was seeking. I didn’t have to say it–He knew, and I slept like a baby. Peace is the antithesis to Panic, and it’s not some global, Michael-Jackson-We-Are-The-World Sing-A-Long. Peace is a spiritual state, and I think it’s like a shield around us to protect us from losing our ever-loving minds during life as a rule. Panic tears holes in that shield, so we gotta get in a place of quiet and worship and GET IT BACK. That’s going to be my goal through the rest of the pandemic…sure, I want to bake all of the things but still lose these 15 pounds, and read all of the books and reorganize my household, but what is it without the very Peace of God?

And that’s my new focus…that’s what writing these nearly-3,000 words has led me to: Seeking Peace. Peace in the face of the Pandemic, Peace in the face of unsteady Mental Health, Peace in the face of Homeschooling and Job Insecurity.

Peace from the very Heart of God…for you and me, for our households and for our families.

Peace to you and to your loved ones….peace in the middle of the noise and the guilt, and the standards and the social media mess. Peace, be still.

 

Click the link to be taken to a list of Bible verses focusing on Peace. Shalom, y’all. 

shalom

Rescued…

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

More than the coronavirus…

More than statistics, or reports, or fear, or uncertainty…

I’ve been in a dark place for the past 2 weeks, and even though I had more than one person tell me to get over myself, or that they knew I was struggling with fear more than reality, I just couldn’t get my chin up and out of the water.

My prayers have been sporadic and ADD. I can’t focus; my eating habits are out of control, and I find myself constantly looking for news, only to be completely unsatisfied and that I just keep wondering, “what’s next?” This sidewalk over raging water is unstable, and the constant tension is wreaking havoc on every cell of my being.

The truth is, a person can only take so much, right? And I’m coming into this with a pitcher that’s half-full and full of holes–I’ve been so tired, for so long, that it gets depressing, which in fact, just makes me more tired.

At the end of February, we were shell-shocked to find out that my thyroid cancer has returned; this means that just as corona-panic was beginning to sweep the nation, I was going back-&-forth to Mercy Hospital every day for about a week for shots and testing. I kept the number of people who knew pretty limited, because I honestly can’t deal with any negativity right now. I know this cancer doesn’t  kill people, but just knowing it’s there is somewhere between annoying-as-hell and frustrating-as-hell. I just got released for 3 years from Barnes hospital in January, and now, less than 2 months later, it’s back?!? Are you frickin’ KIDDING me?!?

And I tried to pretend that I was okay with it–that it didn’t bother me, and that telling my family was just a formality–and that’s complete garbage, because I was gutted. I hated telling my parents, my boss, my sisters….my husband. It’s not fair to them…they’ve had to carry me so many times–it’s just not fair.

So, I left my office on March 18th, thinking that I would take the 19th and the 20th off for Jericho’s spring break, and then I’d work half-days the week of March 23rd…but then came the news that I’d need to telecommute. Okay, sure–I’ll telecommute that week, and I’ll be back in the office as usual on March 30th, right?

Wrong.

I’m working from home, and will be most likely until the end of this month. I’ve always wondered what that would be like; it’s nice to see my kiddo in the morning. He comes into the office every morning and hugs me in his rumpled pajamas and tousled hair, proudly breathing on me because he knows I can’t stand morning breath. He crawls on my lap and rubs his eyes, and I savor the moments. I mean, I DID say that I wished I could be a stay-at-home mom, although this wasn’t quite how I saw it happening.

I miss my usual pace at the office–I do a lot of different things, so it’s been hard for me to adjust to doing one thing at a time, with one monitor at a time. I get really frustrated with technical issues, and my personal computer is not suited for my job, but I’m making it work! I’m learning how to Zoom and how to push through, and just how many webinars I can take and stay sane (Six Sigma!!!  I took a black-belt Six Sigma course, and passed the dang test!!!!).

When I’m not being productive, I tend to make bad decisions (primarily with eating–oooh, those Thursday weigh-ins are NOT GOOD) and I also tend to feel terrible about myself as a human being. I’ve recently taken up embroidery again, which is crazy, because all of  my patterns are from a little Ace Hardware I worked at back in 1999. They’re yellowed, but I can still make out the pattern; I’m remembering how to do the stitches from back when my Grandma taught me at 12 and 13 years of age.

I’m learning how to do my nails like a grown-up (dipping powder is awesome!) and I’ve really gotten into an at-home spa experience. I have a wax melter and every facial thing you can think of; most of the stuff I’ve had stocking up for years, and am just now learning how to use it.

David has been laid off from his position, so he has assumed homeschooling our son. I have to admit, it’s fun to listen to them…until Jericho gets frustrated and has a total meltdown. He has about as much patience as his parents, LOL, so we’re all learning how to take deep breaths and to to find better coping mechanisms. It’s a journey.  I spent my lunch break yesterday giving a Spanish lesson.

I don’t speak Spanish, y’all.

I don’t make enough money for the therapy this kid’s probably gonna need from my pathetic attempts to educate him.

So, all of this is to say that I probably would have been in the “mullygrubs” even without the added medical drama. I had a full-body scan at the end of March; the insurance companies demand that I go through the racket of doing a full-body scan before they’ll approve a PET scan, even though we know the full-body scan will be inconclusive. It was, so now we wait. My tumor markers are low–0.7–and we’re going to wait until I’m at 1.0 until we progress to the PET. It’s the usual hurry-up-and-wait crap that gets in my head and stresses me out (even when I won’t admit it, it shows). Add corona to this, the lack of income, the lack of school and the slow pace of my job, and it created a perfect storm for the Vortex of the Downward Spiral, and I couldn’t shake it.

I’m still not through it…I’m trying to surround myself with worship music and musicals, to remind myself to sing my way through this…Sunny days make it easier (that’s why I’m writing right now–the sun came out, the window is open, and I finally drug myself into a shower) and like I can process things a bit better.

Like everyone else in the world, I’m overwhelmed and I’m struggling to see the beauty in this mess.

But you know what?!?

Someone threw me a lifeline.

One of the young ladies that I work with texted me out of the blue (Emma! I’ve blogged about her before):
“Hey, do you wanna do a Social Distancing Photoshoot?”

Um–a reason to put on real clothes, and go outside, and see actual people?!

YES.

She sent me the pictures today, and I have to tell you, I don’t know why I reacted quite so powerfully to them, but I literally felt myself take a deep breath, and I got overwhelmed by GRATITUDE to God for giving me this amazing family who surrounds me with so many wonderful, hilarious, amazing moments that work together to form a pretty phenomenal life, even when the chips are down.

GOD IS GOOD.

And people are good.

Emma did a great job of catching “those” moments–you know, the genuine laugh, the squish-hug, the toothless grin of a first grader (click the link to see the proofs). She captured the joy of our family, and it was such a beautiful reminder that I am surrounded by the most beautiful of gifts, even when I get overwhelmed and bogged down in the dark places.

You never know when your act of kindness is someone else’s lifeline…when God speaks through you and opens doors to someone’s heart, letting His light shine through.

My dad really likes Lauren Daigle, and when I talked to him a few days ago, he’s like, “Yeah, I really like that ‘Rescue‘ song by that Lauren girl!” I’ve heard it, but I really listened to it today (thanks, Dad!):

“You are not hidden
There’s never been a moment
You were forgotten
You are not hopeless”

How many times do we let words like, “hopeless” rule our lives, even as we say we’re dedicated to the God Who gives the greatest of Hope? I fully understand that anxiety and depression–which go hand-in-hand with chronic fatigue issues and autoimmune issues–are real, chemical problems. They have a spiritual effect, and it gets hard to focus on Who I know Jesus Is when I’m so chemically messed up–it’s so hard. Having the motivation to take care of myself when I’m in these pits seems unreachable. There are a LOT of superlatives when physical syndromes throw up roadblocks every time you turn around, and it takes constant discipline to not get shut down and drowned by it all (click the song lyrics above for a list of Bible verses about being rescued).

Sometimes a simple act of kindness is all that it takes to lift someone up out of all of that.

I’m grateful.

I’m not forgotten.

I’m not hopeless, and He never lets me think that for very long….

He’s my Rescuer.

We’re going to get through this, all of it. We really are, and the world will look different on the other side of it. We take one step, and He takes it right along with us.  We can do this, and we’re going to do it.

Come Follow Me: New Perspective about Peter walking on water ...

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and the Blessings of “Boring”

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

Christmas cards, postage, etc., COST. So, in the interests of saving our budget, we greatly reduced the number of Christmas cards that we physically sent out this year. Besides, everything–EVERYTHING–is online. Also, the only stamps I have left are either Harry Potter or Disney Villains, and NOTHING says “Christmas” like a Cruella De Ville stamp. 🙂 That being said, here’s our OFFICIAL Christmas Card/Letter for the year:

Christmas Card 2017

Christmas, 2017

One of the doctors in the clinic stopped by my office the other day, and commented on how sometimes, people need to learn to be happy with “normal.” I’m a big fan of “normal.” As a society, we’re told we need to “thrive on chaos,” and to “work well under pressure.” That’s all fine, but I think we’ve lost the luster of celebrating every-day life.

Wake up at 4am. Get ready for work. Drive—a lot—and maintain your Christianity in the process. Do your job—and maintain your Christianity in the process. J Drive some more. Pick up your child from school, head home, make something edible for dinner, and crash in front of the television, read a book, play a game, etc., until it’s time to do the whole day over again. There’s a schedule, and the days tend to flow into one another in some kind of monotonous blur…Or do they?

I’m definitely locked into my routine; I know I can hit that snooze button 3 times before I’m at Critical Rush. My closet is organized so I can spend 5 more minutes in bed, and I usually pack my lunch the night before. I’m as streamlined into my routine as I can possibly be, all in the name of a few extra minutes under the blankets. Do I look forward to every single day? Heck, no. There are more days than not where I fight a major battle just to put one foot on the floor. It’s for medical reasons, it’s for mental reasons—My “expectation” for the day is honestly just to get it over with. I know that sounds like absolute drudgery, but I also know it’s more common than some people realize. I think that’s part of why when something exciting happens, it’s so much more dramatic, because HOLY COW, WE HAVE BROKEN OUR ROUTINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Do you know one thing that breaks any concept of a “routine?”

Love.

Although the first part of my day is routine, as soon as I pick Jericho up from school, it’s really “anything goes.” I know I’m going to get him, maybe talk to his teacher, and we’re going to drive home, have dinner, and talk about his day. I know he’s going to go to bed somewhere around 7:45, and that I’m going to bed at the same time. What I don’t know, is what he’s going to say…what he’s going to do, or what new skill he’s picked up. It seems like he grows every day, and before we know it, he’s going to be starting Kindergarten. Impossible. I know that when he says something sweet, that on the outside, I’m going to remain calm; on the inside, my heart is going to turn into confetti, and my brain is going to replay the memory a thousand times over the course of the next “routine” day. When he stops everything and hugs me, I know my heart is going to go full-on Grinch, and grow 3x in 30 seconds (it does that a lot). It’s a brand of love unlike anything I have ever known or can describe, and it’s mind-blowing. I don’t understand the love I have for my son. I don’t get it—where does it come from? How does it just keep getting bigger? How is every day with him so amazing? I mean, yes—he’s 4.

Four has tested us in ways we never thought we could be tested in. Everything everyone said about the “Terrible 2’s” or “Terrifying 3’s” is a load of garbage, because FOUR?!?!?. Four is insane. Four means we occasionally have a Tiny Tyrant who is dead-set on voicing his own opinions, on doing is own thing, and is NOT dead-set on simply accepting “DO WHAT I TOLD YOU TO DO!!!!” as a viable reason to do what he’s told. Jericho is feisty, opinionated, determined, and incredibly creative. He is also very loving and very sweet, most of the time. There is never a doubt as to what he is thinking, and I can’t help but to think that he comes by that honestly. J

He’s decided he wants to be a foot doctor, a chef, and a police officer. He’s working on his handwriting; he’s able to read lots of words, and his spelling is pretty impressive. He’s in Pre-Kindergarten!?!?! School has been very good for him, and it’s definitely been a year of transition. He’s just a typical 4-year old boy. I celebrate that.

David’s “routine” day is a little different than mine; he gets Jericho ready for school every day and takes him in. Jericho wakes up ready to punch the day in the face! His day starts with YELLING, “I’M READY TO GET UPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!” over and over and over again, until David finally goes into his room and turns the light on. The child is persistent. I’m not sure how David deals with the volume level of the morning, but on the weekend, it makes me a little buzzy. J I’m used to absolute silence in the morning when I leave, because everyone is still asleep. It’s a culture shock on Saturday morning!

David’s still working with MetLife, and if there’s any “routine” to his day, it’s that he’s going to be busy. Between hurricanes, floods, storms, fires, and crazy drivers, he never knows what kinds of claims he’s going to be dealing with (or what kinds of excuses he’s going to hear). We each have to maintain certain amounts of confidentiality with what we do, but when he does tell me a carefully-redacted story, it’s always jaw-dropping. People are hilarious.

I continue to work with the Center for Eye Care at UMSL. My favorite part of my job is working with our Mobile Eye Van to provide vision services in underserved schools. A proper diagnosis of a vision issue can change a child’s life; that’s exciting, to be a part of making that change. I also continue to work with contract negotiations, compliance, and credentialing. The laws change constantly, and my biggest challenges are being made aware of, and of understanding, these changes. I appreciate the “simplicity” of just being “Mom” at the end of the day, and of not having to worry about government regulation enforcements! J I also continue to do freelance editing when I have time, and “officially” launched www.CassidysCommentary.com over the summer.

We’re a completely “normal” family. We’re a Dad, a Mom, and a child, who start each day, work and learn each day, and go to bed each night. But when you look at that sentence, there’s a lifetime of hope and of love in each comma. There is no happier moment of my day then when Jericho crawls up into my lap, and sits with me. I’ve never known a fulfillment like I feel when we sit there, doing nothing. I’m so thankful for that little boy, and so grateful for the love I see in him. He’s such an answer to prayer, and such a daily testimony to David & I…

I remember that feeling of waking up on Christmas morning when I was a kid—the anticipation, and the expectation. I kind of feel like that every day when I pick Jericho up from school. J Even though it’s “routine,” it’s the best time of the day, full of the excitement of seeing his face and of hearing about his day. It’s a beautiful “normal,” and I am so in love with having it in my life. We are both so grateful to God for these “typical” moments…

For this Christmas season, I hope that you & your family find the gratitude and joy in whatever your “routine” may be. My prayer for all of us is that the drama we are so affected by on a regular basis, go back to being out-of-the-ordinary. My prayer is that the “routine” would be calm and joyful, and that as a society, we would learn to appreciate the beauty of the mundane. Celebrate “normal” this holiday season, and enjoy the peace of the Holy Spirit in your families as you celebrate the birth of Jesus.  Merry Christmas!!!!!

Love,

David, Cassidy, & Jericho Cooley,

And Holly the Boxer, who is very, very old….

“Forty?!? Oh, Lordy!”

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

Well, it’s here.

Like the proverbial “Monster At The End of This Book,” my 40th birthday has crept up on me, regardless of my attempts to pretend it isn’t happening by ignoring that it IS happening..

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Alas, the pages are turning…

I’m not really much of a person who “fears” aging. Truth be told, I’m pretty darn excited to have made it this far. I mean, when you think about it (oooh, the condensed version sounds SO exciting!), I’ve survived cancer (“the good kind,” LOL), two rounds of congestive heart failure, devastating loss, blah, blah, blah, and I really have no frickin’ idea how I’m still alive. In my youth, I was in Lord-knows how many car accidents (including a head-on collision)…and, to top it all off, I survived growing up in the 80’s, where things like seat belts were NEGOTIABLE. I am not someone who has survived by any kind of “admirable” grit and fortitude; I am someone who has survived by the sheer grace of God, an inherent sense of humor, and a strong (STRONG) family and spousal support system.

My mental battles have been far greater than my physical ones, and if anything was ever going to take me out, it has always, always been that. My brain, were it not for my spirit, would have killed me a hundred times over. When God said He would send us a Comforter, when He promised us His Holy Spirit, He did it knowing that we as a human race are intrinsically nihilistic, bound for self-destruction, and completely anchorless without His Presence in our hearts. I have Jesus in my heart. I have His Holy Spirit, and I have that peace that comes from knowing that He hears me. I’m not just shouting random things into an empty universe. My heart is heard, my soul is comforted, and I live another day.

That sentence could sum up my 40 years on this planet.

The need to be heard by humanity is massive. We all just want to be heard. It’s why I, and millions of others like me, write or blog, or jump on social media. We want to be heard, and we want to be validated. We want you and the world to recognize that we’re here. We have a voice.

It’s when people stop feeling heard…when they cry out, but no one responds…that the light flickers out of their soul…

There are days when I force myself to remember that I am always, always heard. I am always validated by the grace of God. It’s a theme that’s repeated in what I write, because it means so much to me. This world makes me feel overlooked…I question my worth. Do I matter? Am I making any kind of a difference? Is there any eternal impact in the work that I do, whether it’s on the job or in my home?

I feel as though my footprint on this earth is very, very small…

I don’t say that to pander for compliments. I say that because I think a lot of people feel that way, and I’m not alone in questioning my impact. I’m not abnormal in wondering what ripple I will leave on the ocean of the universe. We all want to leave a legacy, and we all have a story to tell….We all have a story that SHOULD be told.

I’m fascinated by biographies in short form. I’m fascinated by stories told by the elderly, by stories of days gone by…I’m fascinated by history, and the threads woven in the tapestries we look back on in their completed form, even as we weave new ones of our own. I’m fascinated by the colorful people I’ve met that NEED to write a book, but feel as though they’re not interesting enough to do so. EVERYONE is interesting!! I’ve never met a person that didn’t pique my interest in some way.

I think part of why I write is because life is INTERESTING. It’s fascinating!!!  People don’t always see it, but when you combine perspective, vocabulary, and the freedom to wrote, you can paint a picture that makes what seems dull, shine brightly.  You can make what seems dark point directly to the sunshine. The challenge in writing about those times is not to focus on the drama of the story; the challenge is to focus on the triumph as you come out of that drama. You make yourself write more about the positive than the negative, and in doing so, you bring the glory of God into that “dark night of the soul.”

And then, you have the victory.

So, I’m turning 40. It’s inevitable. I can’t stop it, and I’m not sure why I even want to. I mean, what good is it, to whine about something as non-discriminatory as AGE? Everyone ages!

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(Yes, I just put that book there. It’s a classic!)

I’ve been a brat about this whole “birthday” thing. Like, REALLY. Image result for birthday divaI wanted a party (is that selfish?!? I threw myself one for my 30th, LOL. but that’s an ENTIRELY different story), but my family isn’t big on parties, and my husband isn’t big on birthdays in general. Money is tight, and we live in the “real world,” where lavish events are just not in the vernacular. And in my head (and okay, I blabbed incessantly to my poor husband, because he married me and he knows how much of a Brat I can be), I was super-pouty and dejected about it (I’m admitting this not for you to say, “aww, poor Cassidy!” but for you to realize that I. AM. A. JERK.), to the point that I was like, CRYING during praying about it one day. I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. For some reason, I decided to internalize all of this as some kind of proof of a terrible rejection of me as a human being.

Because I was turning 40.

Because there wouldn’t be a party.

Because my friend at work just unfriended me and made a catty remark about it as she was sending me an e-mail about how horrible of a person I was.

Because my life is hectic and I spend too much time in my darn car.

Therefore, the universe hates me.

I am a terrible human being who does not deserve to breathe.

So, I cried.

A lot.

THESE ARE THE THINGS THAT GO THROUGH MY CRAZY BRAIN.

And this is why I am grateful to the Lord that He gave us His Holy Spirit, to knock some darn sense into me and to REMIND ME that He loves me, even when I’m being an idiot.

It was during the course of a commute where I was bawling like an idiot, praying, and driving, that I heard Jesus speak my heart:

‘Okay, girlie. Here’s a Kleenex. You’ve destroyed your makeup for work today, and it’s a good thing you keep a spare makeup bag in your cabinet. Now, if you’re done bawling like a lunkhead, here’s the facts about you, about 40, and about Me:

‘I love you. I like you. You’re an idiot sometimes, and this is one of those times. That’s not a rejection; it’s a fact. You know you’re being an idiot. Your husband has been nice enough to not tell you you’re being an idiot, but that’s because I made him smarter than you give him credit for. 40, like any decade, is the start of a new chapter, and look at how much changed in your last chapter! Enjoy this. Embrace this. You’re afraid that 40 means you have to change who you are? 40 just means you become MORE of who I made you to be. You get better at being you, because you learn better about Who I Am. You put away childish things, but that doesn’t mean you give away childish hopes. You stay you. There’s nothing to fear.

‘Turn the page, Love. I’m at the beginning of the book, and I’m at the end. There’s no “Monster at the End of This Book.” There’s only Me. I’m all there needs to be, and I’m on every page. Welcome to the next chapter.’

In that instant, where He spoke into my heart, I realized that it wasn’t 40 I was afraid of. It was rejection.

I struggle with rejection. It’s been a battle my entire life; I permanently feel like the kid that’s on the outside-looking-in, always shoved to the side, and wishing I could be one of the cool people of the world. Minor events in my mind meld together to become massive issues, and that’s exactly what was making my approaching birthday so darn depressing; I was looking at everything through rejection-smudged glasses, and my world was bleak. Jesus shone some light on the situation, and when I was faced with the truth of my feelings, I was shook.

In my minds’ eye, I saw the rejection I had been dealing with unfold like 2 pages of a book…I saw a sword come down, and slice the two pages apart. They were caught by the wind, and blew away…

This doesn’t mean that whoosh! Jesus swept in, and now everything is hunky-dory!

This means that I’ve gained some perspective on what has been dragging me down, and now I understand. It means I can shake off the funk of the mid-life crisis that’s been plaguing me, and of all of the thoughts of things I want to do but can’t afford (and don’t have time for). It means I can stop worrying about the footprint I leave on this world, and focus instead on the footprints He leaves as He carries me through.

It means that change is inevitable, but so is the solidity of His Word.

It means that I can still be “meh” about turning 40. I mean, c’mon, it’s 40.  It also means that although my knees quake when I research and find that biblically, 40 is a number defined as a period of testing (http://www.biblestudy.org/bibleref/meaning-of-numbers-in-bible/40.html), that I know I can reach out to find His hand is always there, ready to lead, catch, guide, and hold.

It means that it’s going to be okay.

It means that I, regardless of volume, intention, content, or melody, am heard by the One Who Never Rejects His Children.

And I am always His child…

Even when I’m 40.

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