We interrupt this rambling of random thoughts and lessons of God to re-publish a slightly edited version of a previous post.

Lysa TerKeurst posted yesterday that she and others from Proverbs31 are going to choose an article from among those who request consideration to be published in their monthly Proverbs 31 magazine.

I don’t really consider myself to be much of a writer. I still am uncertain exactly why I started a blog. I must say, however, I have enjoyed doing it. Some of the posts have been quite cathartic to write. I think, perhaps, I may even be paying closer attention to some of the things God is showing me because I want to share them with all of you. Who would have thought?

Anyway, I’m going to submit an article and see what happens. Who knows? Since it will look very similar to a post from earlier this month, I wanted to explain why.

If any of you budding writers want to get in on this, make sure to visit Lysa’s post dated 1/16/08. The deadline for commenting on Lysa’s blog and posting your submission is tomorrow, January 18th. Good luck!

1″I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. 2He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. 3You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. 4Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. 5I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” John 15:1-5 (NIV)

Jesus said that He is the true vine, and His Father is the gardener. We, as brothers and sisters in Christ, are the branches whom God prunes so that we will bear more fruit. Let me just say, God has been doing some gardening in my life of late! It has been painful, illuminating, scary…the list goes on. And…I know we aren’t done yet.

I posted previously concerning a journey God started me on nearly two years ago and the fear that has stymied me in moving forward to accomplish God’s purposes in my life. These fears have continued to plague and confound me. I have been filled with angst, disgust, and self-hatred. I have felt like such a failure. Recently, though, God has brought a couple of books to my attention. They are both written by Joyce Meyer. The first is called How to Succeed at Being Yourself and the second is called The Confident Woman. (As a side note, I would like to mention that I don’t necessarily agree with all of Joyce Meyer’s theology. However, that doesn’t preclude her from being used by God to speak a word to me, and in fact, He is doing just that.)

In reading these books, God is showing me that I lack confidence…in Him. Ouch! Me? Really? It can’t be. I’m the one who always trusts that things will work out. That You are in control, and whatever happens, happens. I wouldn’t have pegged myself as a “ye of little faith” kind of girl. But God has been saying otherwise. How big do I believe Him to be? Do I REALLY trust that “nothing is impossible with God.” Luke 1:37 (NIV) The answer, I’m sorry to say, is No. At least not when it comes to His plans for me.

I have been plagued with a poor self-image my entire life. I suffered abuse early on which shaped my teenage years and led to many poor choices. I thought I had been healed from all of that, but I am finding that isn’t the case.

Joyce Meyer says in How to Succeed at Being Yourself that it’s important to have a good relationship with yourself. After all, you spend more time with you than with anyone else. I hadn’t ever thought of it that way. The truth is, I don’t think I like me very much. The worst part is, I think I’ve finally figured out “what I want to be when I grow up,” i.e., the plans and purposes God has for me, but I don’t see them coming to fruition. What God has been showing me is I’m really saying I lack confidence that He can accomplish His will through me….and, I do.

I just don’t see it happening. I don’t know how to move forward. I feel inferior next to all the other women I see Him using mightily for His kingdom. I’m not qualified. How can He use me? Why would He want to?

Yes, I know. God doesn’t call the equipped, He equips the called. His strength is made perfect in my weakness. I know all of this. But, it hasn’t penetrated my heart. Or…perhaps it’s beginning to. I don’t feel quite so negative and defeated.

God doesn’t ask me to be perfect. He hasn’t said I can’t make a mistake. He only asks for a willing heart and obedience. And, I’m finding that He requires that we have confidence (faith) that He will open that door when we stand before it if it is the one He has led us to.

See, in the past, this would have been another hangup for me. I would have wondered whether or not I heard Him. Am I standing in front of the right door? But, it still comes back to confidence…faith that He loves me and wants to use me. And if I remain in the vine, God will bear fruit in me.

Yes, I’m being pruned. I know God isn’t finished. I think He is probably going to have to cut me back to virtually nothing before all is said and done, but it’s winter, the time when things are dormant. I pray that come spring, there will be beautiful new buds on this creation and that His glory will shine through.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my mother of late. She is not deceased, although sometimes I think it might be easier if she were. Lest you think me an ogre, let me explain.

My mother is severely mentally ill and has been in varying degrees my entire life. She hasn’t been “officially” diagnosed with specific mental disorders, but I believe she suffers from more than one. She is definitely depressed. I also believe her to be manic depressive, and she most certainly suffers from paranoid delusions. While we don’t have a definitive name to put to her illness, anyone who goes months without washing their bodies or hair has issues in more ways than one! (I know…you’re thinking Ewwww!, and I would have to agree with you.) If I didn’t have any other way of knowing my mother is not all there anymore, this one aspect alone would be a dead giveaway.

When I was younger, my mother always looked immaculate. She took great pride in her dress and appearance. She took care of our home. She planted flowers each year. Pink petunias were her favorite. I still have difficulty looking at them without crying.

That’s not to say that things were completely normal even as a young child. My mother was prone to fits of rage, and they were usually directed at me. Like the time when I was seven or eight and she beat me with a switch until it left whelts that stayed on my legs and bottom for several days because I left a pair of sneakers outside (we’re only talking about five or six dollars here, and no, my family wasn’t dirt poor) and the dog chewed part of one of the shoes. There were other instances, but I don’t think I want to walk that path right now.

The year I turned 16 definitely marked a turning point, though. That year began my mother’s descent into wherever she lives in her own mind now. It took her a few years to get there, but once she did, she has never come back, nor does she want to.

I tell people that I spent my 20’s getting over the first 20 years of my life. The truth is, though, I’m not over it. My mother is lost to me. She didn’t go with me to the final fitting for my wedding gown. She wasn’t there when my daughter was born. As a matter of fact, she was committed involuntarily to a mental hospital the day after my daughter was born. She has only seen Rachel twice, and Rachel is now 6 1/2 years old. Those times were only because she showed up at family functions when she knew we would be there.

Fortunately, Rachel doesn’t remember those encounters. She was too young. The last time was when she was three. She asked me a few weeks ago if my mother was still alive. How am I supposed to respond to that? I told her that yes, my mother was alive, but she is sick and isn’t able to see us. That seemed to satisfy her, but I know there will come a time when I will have to explain in further detail. It will be difficult for her to understand. I’m 37 years old, and I still don’t understand it myself.

For reasons beyond my comprehension, God has not chosen to heal her. I know He can, but I don’t know if He will. I try to take comfort in His promise in Psalm 27:10 “Though my mother and father forsake me, the Lord will receive me.” He is my heavenly Father and has loved me with an everlasting love. I need desperately for him to fill that space where my mother should be. The wound is still open. It’s like the cut that is nearly healed and is then reinjured and feels open and raw all over again. It feels that way right now.

I sent her a small Christmas gift this year. I’m not sure why. The last time I sent her a Christmas gift, I found out later she had given it away. I bought her a fancy electric blanket because she won’t run the heat in her home, and I felt bad for her and didn’t want her to be cold. She thought the controller would somehow control her mind and got rid of it.

Still, she has been on my mind, and while shopping in A Southern Season, I saw a bag of lemon drops. I remembered that they were always her favorite. I boxed them up, enclosed a short note letting her know that I thought of her when I saw them, and that I was praying for her healing.

I didn’t do this with any expectations. Still, there was this small part of me, that part deep down that needs a mother, that hoped it might elicit some sort of response. None has been forthcoming, and I doubt that any will.

So instead, I will look up, continuing to hope and pray that if it is not God’s will that my mother be healed this side of heaven, that He will fill me with Himself until the day when I see her once again planting those pink petunias.