Sensitive

It’s taken me years to admit this, but here goes.

I am sensitive.

To people. To emotions. To spiritual stuff.

The scientist in me rules with logic, head over heart, in all things. I grew up in a very rational household and I mostly ignored my sensitive nature. I wrote it off as coincidence or being overly emotional about something and thus refuting logic.

“There’s a perfectly logical explanation for this!” This was the line I’d always use. Even our emotions are simply the result of chemicals in the brain between receptors and transmitters.

As I grew older, I grew more sensitive. I’m really uncomfortable with where I am now. I’m mostly sensitive to people – so much so that the zombie movies my husband watches with babies crying and people being tortured – I have to leave the room, put on headphones, and try to focus elsewhere. It upsets me too much.

It happens often, but I had trained myself to ignore it. When my friend David introduced me to his future wife, within 5 seconds of meeting her, I didn’t like her. She smiled and was kind – I had no reason to dislike her. But I just didn’t. I never said anything because there was nothing concrete to say. Fast forward a few years, she ordered me to never contact her family and ended up leaving David for a man she met on the internet. She was a super rat of the highest order.

I’ve had feelings about marriages too, some marriages I knew wouldn’t last. Again, I kept my mouth shut because there was no hard facts I could put in a Power Point presentation. Some of the marriages imploded with casualties; others are still intact, and if their social media feeds are any indication, they’re happy. But I don’t know how they really are without the filters. I’m not infallible by any means. And marriage is hard at times.

A learned man started coming to our church. He frightened me. Everyone thought he was the bees knees, but something told me to stay away, so I kept my distance. Soon he was making outrageous accusations (due to mental illness) about certain members of our church, which of course were false. He eventually left, but the damage was done. One of the homeless guys that comes to our church just shook his head. “I told y’all that guy was nothing but trouble.” I knew it too. But I stayed silent. No one asked me.

When we bought our house, I didn’t like it at all and the guest room especially bothered me. Whenever I walked in there, it was heavy. There was a weight on my chest and I didn’t want to be in there. I think sometime bad happened in there. My husband never felt anything. I told my pastor about it and he came over to bless the house. Since then, whatever was there is gone.

When I get feelings about things, they come to me. I can’t seek them out. I don’t have the gift of prophecy, but a friend once said I have the gift of discernment. I have a nose for sniffing out fake people; within a few minutes of meeting someone, I can get a pretty good read on who they are.

In the psychological world, I am considered an empath. I mirror those around me.

I knew my husband was in a lot of pain the other night, as he slept. I asked him about it in the morning, since he never mentioned it to me, and he was stunned I knew.

I don’t know why the Lord equipped me with this wacky gift. I’m not sure how to use it and sometimes sharing it can cause others pain. But I have a feeling (oh the puns!) that this skill set is being fined tuned and will somehow be useful in the days to come.

It happened again earlier this summer: my sister and her husband were trying for a baby. I knew it at once: “You’ll get pregnant right away,” I told her. And she did. First try. My mom is worrying about losing the baby in the first trimester. I assured her it will be carried to term.

I just have this feeling.

December in Review

While I didn’t have any groundbreaking earth shattering revelations this month, it was a good exercise in focusing on the Holy Spirit.

I don’t post on Facebook much anymore, but I do log on once in awhile to see what everyone is doing. I saw a close friend of mine, who recently had her first baby, posted she and her husband were sick with the flu and asked for prayers that the new baby wouldn’t get sick (baby –> flu –> very bad). Numerous people responded with “Praying!” and “Sending prayers!” Me, on the other hand, felt called to do more than just pray. I messaged her asking if she needed anything.  She said they could use soup, crackers, pedialyte, infant tylenol, and orange juice. After work, I ran to the store and drove out the supplies to her. They were very grateful and the prayers worked: baby stayed healthy.

I also learned of a couple who had finally gotten an apartment, after living on the streets for many years. While they now had running water, electricity, and were out of the elements, the only things they had were the clothes on their backs. I knew I could help: I went to Walmart and bought basic kitchen things: plates, bowls, silverware, mugs, glasses, towels, and pots. Every year around Christmas, I always try to give locally to someone who needs it. I had prayed about it earlier that day, as I didn’t have anyone in mind. Lo and behold, this opportunity rose.

While both of these examples required money and relinquishing plans I had already had, I know it went to a greater good. I know what it’s like to start out with very little, and I’ve been there when I’ve been too sick to open a can of soup for myself, without anyone to help.

In the coming year, I hope to keep myself tuned to those gentle nudging from the Holy Spirit and not to ignore them because they’re inconvenient to me, in time or money: I have been blessed so I can be a blessing.

The Holy Spirit will remind of that in 2018, I am sure!

December: Be Tuned to the Holy Spirit

I’m ending 2017 on a note to tap into my intuition – which sometimes gets caught up in the web of anxiety in my brain and I don’t always know which is what.

We so often pray for the voice of the Lord to guide us in our lives. But how often do we listen? I will admit I sometimes feel an inkling, a gentle push from the Holy Spirit and I ignore it because I’m too busy doing other things. Or it’s horribly inconvenient. Or I decide in the moment that it wouldn’t work, wouldn’t be wanted, wouldn’t be appreciated. With the Christmas season in full swing, I thought this was the best way to focus my energy.

What will this look like? I hope to obey the small, sometimes inconsequential voice in my head, urging me to go in a certain direction. I pray my eyes will be open to someone needing help, that I will offer what I can, regardless of the outcome.

I want to leave room to let the Lord lead this month.

The Chapel of Love

The one thing I love most about my church is how random it is.  It is a gathering of a bunch of misfits for Christ, and with the Holy Spirit blowing through, you never quite know what’s going to happen next.

Sometimes I feel bad for people who attend “normal” services with a dress codes and decorum; the ones who take a sanitized mission trip for 2 days out of the year with the youth.  Or the ones that have Sunday School which covers safe biblical topics and the correct answer is always Jesus.  It’s the churches who build giant buildings and with theatrical lighting and sound systems which rival that of my college: I want none of that, it’s not part of the gospel.  Life is messy and they’re missing out on the “get your hands dirty” message Jesus preached of relationships with others.  Our church does a lot of crazy, unconventional things in the name of Jesus and I could not be more proud.

Case and point: Sunday morning.

At the beginning of the service, our pastor announced there was going to be a wedding afterwards and to stick around for it.  It was for a couple who had done pre-marital counseling with our pastor.  They were in their mid-40’s or so, and while they weren’t homeless, they lived far below the poverty level.  The wedding was scheduled to take place several weeks ago, but it kept getting delayed for unknown reasons.  Today was the day.  We meet in a small room, so you always see what’s going on: the bride walked out of the bathroom in a big white wedding dress that looked like it popped out of the early 1990’s.

I should also mention this was during the sermon.

This wasn’t a typical bride:  her hair was down, unstyled, unwashed, with no make up.  She wore a Dollar Store-esque tiara on her head and her dress wasn’t ironed.  There was a stain on the back bow – and her dress wasn’t zipped up all the way.  I was hoping someone else was helping her and maybe she was just waiting to zip it so she could breathe.  She passed by me a couple of times, as I was near the back.  Finally, once I realized she didn’t have help, I jumped up and asked if she needed help zipping her dress. “The zipper won’t go up anymore,” she whispered.  “Let’s try,” I said, as I pulled the dress together and tried with all my might to zip it.  The dress was too small for her rib cage, but I didn’t give up until I took the skin off my index finger, attempting to make that zipper move.

The sermon was still going on, by the way.  I’m sure we were quite the spectacle.

Nobody had a safety pin, as another lady sent out a text to the ladies in the congregation (I learned this later).  I tucked in the sides of her dress that were unzipped so the back of it looked like a V.  Later, her train was in the way while we walked up for communion, so another woman and I tried to figure out her bustle situation.

Yes, this was in the line for communion.  We totally held it up.

We found the loops she could put over her fingers and we carried on, and she thanked me for my help.  Moments later, the bridal couple walked up to the alter and exchanged vows and rings.  I captured a few pictures on my phone.

I’ve never met this woman.  I’m as shy as they come and I’m usually the one hiding under my chair when the pastor tells everyone to stand up and shake hands with everyone.  But there was something about this bride that made my heart leap out to her.  Most wedding days are stressful, long-planned out events and everything has to be just so – surrounded by family and friends.  This was not the case at all here. I counted 2 friends and no family. It was all so random.  And beautiful.  A husband a wife started the long journey of marriage today.

That’s what I love about my church – there’s so much room for the Holy Spirit – sometimes you’re a walk-on bridesmaid for a stranger.  Those without homes are welcomed with open arms, complete with coffee and breakfast.  White, black, or a combination thereof walk through our doors.  There’s always someone there to one-up me on the awkward/weirdness scale.  This is what Jesus calls us to do: to come along side others, especially those who are less fortunate, and go through life side by side as equals, as friends.

I didn’t get a chance to congratulate the newlyweds.  The bride disappeared back into the bathroom again after the ceremony and I had along list of Christmas shopping to finish, as the family Christmas party is next weekend.  As I left, the pastor thanked me for helping the bride.

I’m still giggling about it.  It’s absolutely nuts!  Never in a millions years did I expect to be a bridesmaid at church for someone I never met!  But that’s exactly how the Lord works!

I am so proud to be His daughter and am looking forward to the next adventure with the Holy Spirit.

And here’s to the new Mr. & Mrs!  May their marriage honor the Lord and may their union be strengthened with each passing year!