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Introspective Sojourner

The journey inward following Christ’s path to that person I was uniquely created to be.

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Trust

The Pruning of Me

Pruning my roses is cathartic for me. I love searching out the right spot to trim back to. I know that trimming the bushes will allow them to bloom again; fuller and stronger. I see the deep color of the new leaves. I see the thicker, heartier stems pushing through and hints of blooms to come. 

There are parallels to my life and faith. I’m not always happy when God prunes – especially when the decay goes deep. Things I’ve struggled with for a long time that I know need to be cleared away for me to grow. They are familiar and I get anxious when He says they have to go. 

I look at my childhood and see the blooms I once had. I miss them. 

“Remember when I prayed all the time and ran around singing hymns, God?” 

He tells me that He loved those blooms too, but to trust Him, the new blooms will be even better. I worry that my faith was stronger and might never be that way again. He reminds me that I needed that faith to survive the childhood ahead of me and the trauma I would go through.

I learned to go to Him at a very young age, afraid that everyone would abandon me. I would need to know to turn to Him and believe He would always be there even when my world shifted under me.  I would need that when my mom was institutionalized again. 

I learned to be grateful for my life and my wonderful friends. I have been blessed with the best friends my whole life. He shows me that I needed them to counteract the hate I experienced from my family. I needed their kind words to hear Him tell me that I was enough – that I was loveable. 

Now my faith is my own, not words of others that I believed without question. I have gone through deep seasons of doubt. My faith has been tested, and He has proven Himself faithful. I have so much to be grateful for. Even during my biggest struggles, He brought me joy. I know this without question now.

He is the author of the new growth in me. He created the new blossoms ready to bloom. I have had my share of pain – often at my own doing, avoiding the deepest cuts He needed to make. 

I find myself grateful tonight for the blooms that once were, now cut away. I see the beauty in them as they were at their peak. That beauty lets me trust in the promise of what God is yet to do in my life. I see the new leaves. I see the stronger stems. 

I’m sure there will still be whining about the cuts – after all I am still me. But I know I can trust Him because He sees the me He designed me to be.

 

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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All My Life You Have Been Faithful

All my life you have been faithful. All my life you have been so so good.

‘Cause your goodness is running after, running after me.

From the Titusville Presbyterian church with the wall of organ pipes that are like the breath of God, where I first sang songs to you.

From the vacation Bible study somewhere in Cherrytree Pennsylvania where I learned the joy of singing of your love.

From the Hydetown Baptist church where Pastor Larry Hellein touched my heart, and I first came forward to your alter. Where I was baptized and pledged my life to you. Where a youth group strengthened my faith and Gordon Turk and Ken Jackson taught us your word. Where I sang my first solo and almost never sang another, that was so scary.

From the Free Methodist youth group that showed me everyone is accepted and loved.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

From the Navy Chapel in bootcamp, to the one on Fort Meyers where I clung to what I knew.

From the Assembly of God church, and the boy’s God parent’s, Gary and Sharon Seifrit, who scooped up a broken little family and took them in and set us on a right path again.

From the Navy Chapel in Pearl Harbor and the choir that adopted a little single parent family. Where the officer’s women’s Bible study took in the one enlisted female looking for a morning Bible study and loved her so well. From the Navy Chapel’s choir and single’s group that helped me renew my faith. Where Pastor Stephen Sloat led and deepened my walk with you and looked out for a young me searching to be loved.

From a Pearl Harbor Sub Base Chapel and it’s choir that accepted and loved me and Jerry and started our walk with you.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

From the Folsom Presbyterian Church that became Journey church, with Pastor Del Burnett who made Jerry and I part of a church family. With Pastor Keith Posehn who made Jerry and I youth group leaders and filled our lives with the joy of service, and the youth group kids who loved us as much as we loved them. From Pastor Toby Nelson who taught us Greek and “Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think according to the power that works in us” Eph 3:20.  From Pastor Mike Umbenhaur and Pastor Dave Huusko who continued our faith journey at Journey church. And the choir we sang in so diligently. Learning how to sing with all our souls from Anne Indermill and Len Jones. Where Anne and Mark Indermill and Bob Surridge encouraged me to try another solo. That was probably my last.

While the prayers of a Bible Study with Marya Morgan, Ann Patchen, Yvonne Roe and Jan Williamse prayed for me constantly and loved me through the death of my father.

Where Journey church and Hope Church taught me that splitting a church is never a good idea, and my heart was broken, as half the people I loved chose to move away from the other half that I loved. Where my heart died a little more as members moved on to other cities and other states.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

Where Sophie Agricola and Lee and Jen Stacy showed me, I could find another church family at Vintage Grace church. Where Pastor Drew Sodestrom rekindled my faith and gave me phrases like #ButGod #WithGod, “God’s better is better” that preserved me through a dark season of job loss and a pandemic. Where my faith became trust and seeking your face deeper than I had ever before. Where a Life Group sustained my daily walk with love, and hands that showed me your love in a very tangible way.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

To Ohio and the Rivertree Massillon church and Pastor Jake Garmany who has continued our journey as we live closer to my family. To the Bible study led by Doug and Sonji Gregory who deepen my faith and give me a home to talk of your great love and amazing power.

And all my life you have been faithful. All my life you have been so so good. With every breath that I am able. I will sing of the goodness of God.

So many friends who I’ve met at church and work and school. You have filled my life from every corner. Through every season. My life is so full it is overflowing and I pray your love spills out of me to everyone you have brought me to love, and everyone who is in my life. From the stranger in line at a cash register to the best friend I could ever ask for Faith Thompson. To my faith journey partner Jerry Pugliese who encourages me and supports me and worships you with me. May your love spill over into their lives so that they might feel your presence as I have… all my life and into the lives of my children and grandchildren.

May the years I have left be more of the same. Thank you God. Thank you Jesus, I am so grateful for your goodness and love.

Oh Lord hear my prayers and worship.

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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Hardened Heart

Today I watched a clip of the CEO of United Health Care get gunned down and had no emotions. It saddens me to realize how desensitized I’ve become.

Decades ago, while serving in the US Navy, I had to sign a document declaring that I did not participate in a number of things, so that I could get my clearance. I had never heard many of those words. I had to stop and ask what they meant. All of them were sexual deviations, I had no idea even existed. I was overwhelmed by the thought that someone out there participated in these, to the point that those getting a clearance had to sign a document stating they did not. I was disgusted and beside myself. My boss sent me home because I was useless at work. Now Hollywood glorifies many of these deviations in movies. They are commonplace. Our kids know what necromancy is. I had kids of my own and had never heard of that word.

Not long after the first Gulf War began. I worked in an intelligence center still. Our department head kept CNN on in the background of his office. As I was standing in his office without any of the trigger warnings, that are now common, CNN showed three hostages standing on a platform, and the platform dropping beneath their feet. I was horrified. For decades I refused to watch any news. My theory was that if something bad enough happened in the world, people would talk about it at work, or my husband would mention it. I didn’t need to subject myself to any of that being peddled by mainstream media. And for decades that was how I lived.

I would get frustrated when I would see a story on social media, where someone was being called a hero for common human decency. For example, a cop who stopped to help a kid put his chain back on his bicycle. Someone took a photo and extoled the virtues of that cop. It upset me that simple human decency was being elevated to hero status. Why hadn’t the person taking the photo stopped and helped this kid? How many people passed this kid by without helping him? Why are we okay with that kind of behavior? If you see someone in need, especially a child and you don’t stop to assist, why aren’t you being raked over the coals for this selfish and unkind behavior? Who set the bar that low?

I know I grew up in a different time and a small town. An excellent small town, I might add. But you would not have lived down walking passed a kid who needed help. That small town judgement would have followed you around for some time. “Oh he walked right by that kid that couldn’t get his bike chain back on and didn’t even stop to help…” The cop would not have been a hero, those who didn’t help would have had their reputations rightfully judged.

Where did this go? How have we become so desensitized to unkindness? When did we lower the bar so low that you don’t have to be a decent human anymore?

In today’s climate we live in constant states of fear and anger. Everything is politicized. We have rules for you but not for me. We celebrate when our side gets “away” with something, and the other side does not. “Good, they deserved that.” We laugh and make jokes. Don’t get me wrong, I’m 100% included in this. I will laugh at dark humor with the best of them. My sarcasm is well tuned.

Perhaps my humor is a response to the constant fear and anger being shoved down our throats by the news and social media. The pandemic certainly did not help. It seems as if all of our nervous systems are in a constant state of fight or flight. We are so burned out that our burn-out is burned out.

God tells us over and over to “fear not”. The original sin was to not trust God and think that we know better. That God is holding out on us somehow. It’s really easy to fall right back in to trying to control everything, even when you just laid your problems at the foot of the cross. I just go pick those problems right back up and start to work on solving them again.

But today, I had no emotions – none – at the very real clip of someone being gunned down. No boss is sending a distraught me home.

And it breaks my heart. It breaks my heart that I’m not horrified. It breaks my heart that I’ve let so much garbage into my brain that my first reaction was, “It’s probably someone who lost a loved one to a denied claim.” Instant dismissal. Rules for them but not for us?

I don’t condone this. A life was lost. He was probably a husband, maybe a father, someone’s son.

What I really don’t condone is how hardened my heart has become. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” Ps 51:10.  “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not unto your own understanding.” Prov 3:5. 

I’m not okay with my own reaction. I’m not okay with always being angry or afraid. I’m not okay that I justify actions I don’t condone, for any reason. I need that small town, 1960’s mentality back. At least I need it back in my heart. I guess I can’t consume any news, from any source, social media or mainstream. If something big happens, I’ll hear about it around the water cooler, or from my husband. It’s time that I am not in the know.

It’s time I just stepped away and delete my social media apps. Time to choose protecting my heart so it isn’t hardened.

By

Vicki L. Pugliese

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Wrapping Not Value

Today I was struggling, again, with seeing my worth. I get caught up in what I see. God helped me to see the difference between “wrapping” and the value of the gift inside. You see I am quite challenged at gift wrapping, but I don’t get upset about it because I know it doesn’t change the value of the gift inside. You can wrap poop in a beautiful box but it’s still poop. Likewise, you could wrap a beautiful and rare gemstone in a paper bag with duct tape to seal it, and that gemstone is still valuable.

Of course, my ADHD brain took off after that bunny.  I’ve seen people who put poop into composts. They probably add other good stuff but mostly they add time, and they add a little effort and pretty soon they have this rich healthy stuff that they add to their gardens. That compost becomes healthy dirt that enables strong new life to grow. If you add time and a little effort that dirt creates more life that creates more dirt. Eventually that dirt gets packed down and the pressure of life creates rocks. Given the right circumstances and the right ingredients those rocks become gemstones. If those gemstones are pulled out of the rock, and the rough edges are chiseled away, the rock becomes something even more beautiful and rare. And it becomes more valuable.

Conversely, if you put poop on top of more poop and you keep adding poop and you do not give it time, it becomes sewage. Sewage will infect the dirt around it and make it unclean and unsafe. It can contaminate the water making it unclean and unsafe. Even if you put that sewage in a gorgeous box, it’s still sewage.

I saw the connection to who I am as a person and that original box of poop. My actions sometimes stink. I’m not as kind as I should be. I think of myself first, and I judge others too harshly. Given time, especially if I fill that time with time spent in the word or in prayer, those actions – that sin becomes empathy. I start seeing those actions through a lens of how I’ve been hurt or hurt others. If that empathy is put in the right conditions, it becomes Godly action where I breathe His love into someone else, or perhaps stop adding new poop to the pile. That love infused into someone else, can become new life. Perhaps a seed or the water to bring them closer to seeing God. Until there are many seeds and watered seeds creating new life and growing life.

The pressure of everyday hardens us. It pushes us and molds us. As long as we are still infusing God’s love into our lives, we become stronger. We become the rock that things can be built on. We provide stability for God’s love to blossom. But until God chisel’s away our rough edges we’re just a rock with the potential of being a gem. If we fight that growth because sometimes it’s painful, we will never reach that full potential.

Life is often hard. It cheats and it doesn’t care that there is pain. When I look back on my life, some of the hardest most painful times in my life also contained some of my fondest memories. There are times that I didn’t think I could go on, and that moment created strength that I didn’t know I had. I don’t really remember any time that was free of some sort of drama or pain. I realize often sometimes that’s my own fault because I don’t always see the consequences of my choices before I make them. Still, I have no memories of life being perfect in every aspect.

Which brings me back to this morning, where I have a good job that I like with people I like working with. I have a great husband and fabulous kids and amazing grandkids that love me and fill my life with wonder. I have sweet pets that fill my life with unconditional love. I have a great home that brings me pleasure, and I can afford my bills and my indulgences. Yet this morning, I looked in the mirror and only saw the paper bag wrapping sealed with duct tape. I didn’t see the gem that God has been building in me. I, for a moment, forgot how content I am in life right now, because of that wrapping that I felt ashamed of. That wrapping that adds no value to who I am and does not take away from the gift God has been creating in me.

It’s taken time and reflection to get me to this place. You’ve probably seen my journey through these blogs. Today, I choose to see the gem God is creating in me and to give it time, and effort. I choose to let God chisel away at those rough edges and TRUST Him that the good work He is creating in me, is not finished. But it’s going to be amazing.

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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Lawn Chairs in the Living Room

Struggle = Desired State – Current State.   Our pastor often asks, “Who is on the throne of your heart?” There’s occupancy for one, even though I often try to one-cheek it and just help Jesus out a little bit. He is faithful to let me take control, and faithful to take control when I vacate the seat for Him too. 

Currently I am on and off that throne so much I have bruises on my soul. You see, we recently moved to Ohio. We had big plans. We’ve been so excited about this for months. My family is close to where we moved, as are all of my grandchildren, and half of my kids. We’ve been looking forward to the slower pace and less financial stress due to the cost of living differences. Step by step we prepared to move.

Now both of my realtors were amazing – and came recommended by a friend or family. That’s an important point. Our California realtor helped us secure an electrician, general contractor, section one company and we easily completed the minor repairs needed to sell our home. It sold very quickly.

Our Ohio realtor helped us find a house beyond our dreams on a two day whirlwind house hunting trip and we put in an offer that was accepted. So we began the process of packing to get ready to move.

I called several movers, as well as PODS. I had PODS all set up, along with hiring muscle on either end to lift the heavy stuff. Then PODS told us the earliest date we could receive our belongings was December 14th. We have a blue and gold macaw that would be riding with us as we crossed the country and staying with us in a large dog kennel – which is still significantly smaller than his cage. An extra week in the kennel seemed unkind, so I went back to the movers I had already researched.

One mover stood out. They were a family run business. We would be purchasing the full 26ft truck for a flat rate, so that it would be unlikely that our belonging would get lost. The same movers would show up at my California home as would deliver to my Ohio home – in uniform. They couldn’t drive more than 500 miles a day but they could deliver our belongings on the 6th or 7th of December. They were perfect – and too good to be true. I had a feeling they were too good to be true before we hired them but I wanted Rio out of that kennel as soon as we could. So I ignored my gut reaction.

Here we are on December 21st and this moving company has been everyone’s worst nightmare. They didn’t show up when they promised, or with the size truck they promised. They sub contracted out to another moving company to do the work. The new owners of our California home would arrive at 6PM on the day the movers did show up. And the cost was astronomically higher than promised. The contract had been wrong and we had asked the movers to correct it but there was so much to do between the two sales that making sure we had the right contract fell through the cracks. When the subcontractors arrived we had no choice but to sign the contract, or they would not load our belongings. The new owners were coming. We signed the contract.

We managed to get a photo of the first page of the contract but the mover would not let us take pictures of the remaining pages. They would email it to us. They did not. They took down the contract from the emails they had sent previously with the incorrect contract so we couldn’t even compare them to each other.

Every day we text, call and remind the movers that we need our stuff and that Rio is still in a dog kennel. Every day they evade, half answer and make promises they aren’t going to keep. Apparently they have 30 days, or 21 business days to deliver our belongings legally. Of course this is what they tell us – we don’t really know that for sure.

My emotions have been all over the board. Sometimes I can lay this fiasco in God’s hands – after all there is nothing I can do that is making any difference in the outcome. Sometimes my emotions push me to yell and berate the movers – which I’m sure does nothing to help our cause.

I’m definitely experiencing struggle. What I pictured as my desired state of kicking back in our new house and starting this new phase is not the same our current state of not knowing if our belongings will ever arrive or arrive in one piece. Turns out, being the only family on one truck was also a lie. They informed us we would be unloaded somewhere in California and loaded onto a much bigger truck headed for New York and then from there be unloaded and loaded on a smaller truck to deliver. So many chances to break our belongings. I find myself panicking off and on.

But when I do vacate the throne of my heart and leave this mess in Jesus’ hands, I am reminded that we made the trip without incident. It was actually a nice trip – even with a dog that gets car sick and a macaw. Rio was so good – I really am shocked. Everyone is settling in. Even though we’re sleeping on an air mattress and have borrowed lawn chairs in the living room.

Neither of us got sick, even though this pandemic was kicking into high gear as we traveled and people on both ends of our move tested positive. All of our friends are recovering, and none had severe symptoms. We have much to be grateful for.

This house will not be perfect and we will have to deal with all life throws at us. That’s not different. We expected that.

Our pipes backed up into our basement and we had to call RotoRooter out to handle it. The sewage water that soaked several carpet tiles – that’s where many of our belongings would have been stored waiting to be unpacked had things gone by plan. We got the problem fixed in just a few hours. Because our things hadn’t been delivered nothing else was destroyed.

What is different is I never expected to be sitting on lawn chairs in my living room wondering when or if my things would arrive. Already though God has proved that even though this has been unbelievably stressful – I can see He is with us. The more I turn my heart over to Him – the less stress I feel.

I’ve been through a lot in my life. God has always been faithful. There has always been struggle but when I look back, I have so much to be grateful for.

This has been a difficult year for so many – far more difficult than my stuff being delayed. After all, it is just stuff. Next year – even though it won’t be 2020 – will have its own set of struggles. As will the year after that. That’s kind of the gig. Our pastor asked what the difference was between being buried and being planted. Trusting the gardener. What a great visual.

I do trust Jesus, maybe just not enough. I know I’m not alone but perhaps my introspective journey will help you as you traverse yours. Trust Jesus – even when you are using lawn chairs in your living room. Then step back and appreciate how you grow where you were planted.

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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