Brave

  “Being ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage.” That is the definition ofBravery. I am not one to show bravery or courage when it comes to anything that leads to an adrenaline rush. I am not one to be fond of heights, deep water, public areas, waterskiing, wakeboarding, elevators or being a passenger in a car. On the flip side of all of that though, I want to live like no other twenty-two year old has ever lived before. I want to do things and go places that people believe are impossible to venture too. I want to travel the world and meet people who are different than me. I want to live on the edge and go beyond my limits. But with all of that, where does bravery fit in with my life if I am afraid of everything else?  Am I even considered brave?

I would like to believe that I have done so many things that people my own age either want to do what I have done as far as travels go, or they sit back and say “no way.” If I am going to be honest with you, I personally don’t want this life and this journey that I am on to come to a stop. Ever. A lot of people view my life as me being “unstable” or “immature”. In the beginning, I agreed with them. There would be times where I would be upset with God for the path that He had me on. There would be times where I would be so scared that I didn’t think I would make it to the next day. My senior year of High School, when this journey first began, I walked the school hallways, scared and full of fear and anxiety. I made myself sick, and cried in the bathroom stalls. I purposefully would miss my classes just to try and get away from everything…from everyone. I didn’t want to find myself going to the homeless shelter after school, when I knew everyone that I passed in the hallways had a place to go home to. I would like to think that all would count for something, right?

  Let me put bravery into my perspective for you.

   I have been through a lot of, so called “crap” in my life. At twenty-two, I think I have the right to say that I have seen things that I wish I would have never seen, said things that I wish I never said. I have gone here and there to look for things that I, myself, at the time, didn’t even know what I was searching for. I have lived behind the curtain and with the label of “homeless” and “will work for food” attached to my forehead. I have witnessed and have been a victim to scenes of violence, abuse, and manipulation. I have gone through the trials of two pregnancies that had a result of numbing loss in the grief of premature miscarriages. I have come from the life of where I lived in the secrets of truth of being a victim to countless touching’s and vulnerability that I had no sense of control over.  I have lived behind a masquerade of trying to be the “wild one”, while in all reality, I was making myself more vulnerable to be attacked by humans like a lion and its prey.

BRAVE.

I have traveled as far as the east is to the west, and have come in contact with many different people with many horrific stories and testimonies. I have lost loved ones along the way. I know what it is like to live a life of addiction, mental and physical addiction to figurative garbage. I have seen the infamous dirty work and rebellion on the sidelines of “one night stand”, not once, but more times than can be counted with my fingers. I have been the girl who searched for love and acceptance in the eyes of men, men who were complete strangers and who tore me in a million pieces like paper going through a shredder.

COURAGEOUS.

I have been the one who would be called fat and ugly all because I wasn’t what society wanted me to be. I have been the woman who has suffered with the disgusting addiction of sex, party scenes, hatred, and anger. I was the girl who got caught up in myself that I went off the “band wagon” and jumped on the train of depression and suicide thoughts that raged through my vulnerable mind. Day in and day out. The acts of binging and purging were a part of me. Gripping my life in its hand and holding me hostage with absolutely no escape or sense of freedom, that I would be able to gain with my own power. Constantly dying to self and laying myself down at the foot of my own grave. I considered myself to be nothing. I was just like the next criminal to run away from the police, except it wasn’t cops and the law that I was running from. I was running at high speed from those that wanted to help me.  I ran until there was nothing left of me or in my nature to continue going. I ran until that person simply…DIED.

BRAVE.

Through everything that God has allowed me to go through and endure, I have found what it means to be brave. It does not mean that I have to portray it by jumping off a cliff and falling to my death just to prove my bravery. It does not mean that I have to conquer my fear of heights, even though that will come in it’s time…that’s not what makes me brave. What makes me brave is being able to trust God and to have faith that all will be okay. Bravery is all about taking a step into the unknown and walking upon the unfamiliar waters that come with storms. That is bravery.

I am brave. I am strong and courageous. I was made to be brave and to survive the storms of life, even if it means to float. That is true bravery. I am alive…and that in itself makes me….

BRAVE.

Lessons within the Life Change: John 3:16

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

John 3:16

The term "saved" is used in the Bible to refer to a person receiving Jesus Christ as their Savior and God forgiving them their sins and giving them eternal life. The term "saved" is used more than fifty times in the New Testament to refer to one receiving salvation. It means that one is saved from the condemnation of their sins and because they are saved, it represents the meaning that their sins are forgiven and they go to heaven when they die.

However; being saved is not a question of how good you are, or how many good deeds you have done in your life, nor if you are a church member or have ever been baptized, but with the reality of living the life that you have believed in Jesus Christ as your Savior and received forgiveness for your sins. When those who call upon the Lord as their Savior- He will save them and give them eternal life. But those who do not receive Christ as their Savior will deem themselves to not having eternity in Heaven, but will perish to a more spiritual death of living in Hell.

The message that is depicted throughout the Gospel comes to a focus in the verse of John 3:16. God’s love is not static or self-centered, but instead, it reaches out and draws others in. In this verse, God sets the patterns of true love, the basis for all love relationship. The love that God had for us is a love that He saw as worthy of giving a sacrifice…self-sacrifice. God paid a high price with the life of His Son, Jesus. Jesus, then, accepted our punishment, paid the price for our sins, and then offered us the new life that he had bought for us.

Some people are more so in a trance of repulsion by the idea of eternal life because their lives, in their perspective, are miserable. But in all reality, eternal life is not an “extension” of a person’s miserable, mortal life; eternal life is God’s life that is embodied in Christ given to all believers now as a guarantee that they will live forever. In eternal life there is no death, sickness, enemy, evil or sin. When we don’t know Christ, we make choices as though this life is all that we have. In reality, this life is just the introduction to eternity. When we accept Christ and become saved, we begin to experience the world of eternity by living our lives for God instead of within ourselves and our sin.

Life Change Program Update #1

Dear Friends,

 Hello and greetings from Eugene, Oregon! I know it has been quite some time since some of you have probably heard from me last, and for that, I apologize. Life has been busy and chaotic-but through it all, God is good! Amen?! 

    So much has happened that I simply can not explain in the short amount of time that I have nor in one blog post, but I will try and touch on the basics. *Bare with me as I may be all over the place* 

    As you all know, I am in a Recovery program that is based through a homeless/wellness shelter environment here in Eugene. I have been at the Eugene Mission since the beginning of May and entered the Life Change program in June. The program is all about being afforded the opportunity to experience spiritual growth and healing, as well as emotional recovery in life.  The end goal is that those of us who go through the program, will be better equipped to leave the mission with the tools to be able to reenter society, and to sustain reentry with a job and housing, and the greatest thing-It's all faith based! I must admit that I never thought of myself as one needing "rehab" or recovery, as I am not a drug addict or an alcoholic, but instead..I am an addict to other things. Through this program, there are four phases that I will need to go through within a years time in order to graduate. Currently, I am in the second phase. 

    Throughout my time here, I have learned what it means to be truly honest; not just to those around me, but also honest to myself. For so many years, mainly my whole life, I resolved everything into lies. White lies, big lies, stretched out lies....all lies, lies, lies. Before I became a Christian, I lied so much that I believed the lies that I told and I had no idea who I was! I compared myself to other people by trying to be just like them. If one friend said their favorite color was blue, then mine was blue too. If they liked a certain hobby, then I liked doing it too. It was in everything-I didn't know who Malarie was! I have always known about God and who He is, but I never truly accepted Him in my life until a year ago. Since then, God has put me on the most craziest roller-coaster ride of my life!

    Being here in this program, God has shown me His true and divine nature. His love and His unending mercy that He has not only for me, but also for everyone. Christ has shown me what it means to be forgiven while forgiving those who have hurt me. I can honestly say that I can feel and see the change God is doing in my heart-and I can do nothing but give Him the praise and glory for those changes. 

     About a month ago, God opened doors for me to lead worship next door at the Women's Center where 65 women stay, most of whom do not have a relationship with the Lord. Throughout this past month, God has brought so many of them closer to Him and His kingdom. It is so beautiful to watch these women and to see God interact in their lives, even they don't see it themselves. So beautiful! A common saying around here is "Once an addict...always an addict." Well let me just say-that's sooo not true! God has forgiven and has made us all new, and that is something beautiful. Something beautiful that I like to call a Silver Lining. 

My friends, I have found joy. I have found the meaning to life and have gained freedom; in all forms! I have gained Jesus as Lord of my life and have been made a daughter of the One True King who sits high in His throne in the Heavens...that is who I am. That is who I always will be. 

I pray that you are all well and that you will continue to seek God in all that you do. May the Lord bless you and bring you peace. Much love and many many prayers are sent your way. 

Your Sister in Christ,

Malarie

Like Animals in a Cage

Rotten fruit. 

Toast and cereal for days. 

Tired eyes and weakened bones

Leaves us miserable and exhausted. 

Fighting for sobriety and staying clean. 

You must obey their rules.

For if you don't, you're out of the game. 

Seven days. 

Thirty days. 

Ninety days and more. 

We are like animals

Locked in a cage. 

Strangers come and stare...

They look down and away. 

How dare they socialize with us. 

How dare they know our names. 

Pile of bags mounted high. 

Empty wallets. 

Hungered stomachs. 

But we must say goodbye. 

One o'clock. 

Two o'clock. 

Three o'clock. 

Four. 

The doors and gates come alive. 

Our weakened bones return. 

Sit back. 

Relax. 

But don't you dare fall asleep. 

For if you do, you're out of the game. 

Seven days. 

Thirty days. 

Ninety days and more. 

Pushed to the streets. 

Abandoned.

Alone. 

Nowhere to run to

Nowhere to hide. 

Maybe one day we will have a home. 

But until then,

We are here

Locked away...

                        Like animals in a cage. 

Walk in My Shoes

This post is probably going to be all over the place, as I am unsure of how to gather my thoughts, but please know that what I have to say, means a lot to me in my heart and is, in some ways, a sensitive topic for me to discuss, but the awareness must be raised. I want people to understand.

So here is the truth, which I have stated in my last post....

I live in a homeless shelter. 

Now that the truth is out, let me tell you something...

I am not homeless. 

I have a home. I have a bed, food, daily showers, laundry, shelter, and clothes on my back. I have been blessed with an amazing man who, along with myself, is growing closer to Christ each and every day. I have friends and am forming a sisterhood with the women here at the shelter.

When I first arrived at the Eugene Mission, I was scared and intimidated. I mean, after all, I did not come to Oregon all the way from Alaska, to live in another shelter. I mean, c'mon...I just didn't. Wasn't even in my plans. The reason I came to Oregon was to further my relationship with my boyfriend and get out of the long distance relationship. It is nobody's fault, not even mine, that I am here in this place. This is all God. And yes, at first, I was mad, angry, and very disheartened. I blamed everyone I possibly could, except myself. But seriously-it's nobody's fault that I'm here in this situation. It just happened this way.

Throughout this past week, the whole effect of "culture shock" has taken place. I have seen so many TRUE homeless people. Homeless people who are worse off than us at the shelter. I have seen (more than once in my life) the effects of true and genuine homelessness in the hands of dirty, calloused and blistered hands and feet. Grocery carts full of anything tangible or worth some kind of value. People going through every single trash can on the streets. I have seen torn clothes and toes poking through the holes of what use to be white socks, but now is covered in the traces of the paved streets and sidewalks. Here's a statement for you: try walking in their shoes.  This week, I have been given the opportunities to ride the city buses for both my own leisure and also for job hunting and school, and every single time, I have seen the tired eyes and body of a homeless war Vet. A MAN who had fought for our country, defending our flag while placing his life in harms way, and yet had came home to literally nothing. Literally nothing.

A homeless man who sat outside of the organic store, asking for food. He cried when I have him an apple. 

These look like just a pile of bags. But it's not. This is somebody's home. This is what they have to come back to. Carry with them. 

I know this woman personally. She is the most kindest woman I have ever met. And yet...she has nobody. 

I totaled how many months God has allowed me to be on this journey. 38 months. I have been "unstable" by society terms for 38 months. Given, God has blessed me with all of my basic needs, and have met some pretty amazing people along the way. But this...these people...are hurting. They are broken. 

Many people believe that homeless people are all a bunch of druggies and using junkies. But that's not the case at all. I once knew a man who was a previous lawyer. Never touched drugs or alcohol in his life. He was married and had two daughters about my age at the time, nice home and car, money in the bank... everything that was "perfect" according to the world. Then his wife and his daughters were hit head on by a drunk driver while driving across a bridge, and went over the guard rail and into the river. All three of them died. Two months later, he lost his job due to not being able to function in the court due to emotional stress and turmoil, and because of such events, lost his home and his vehicle. Lost everything. And because of it, society says he (and everyone else who has nothing) is nothing.

Here's another statement for you and think about this...

It could be you tomorrow.

We are all human beings. We have all been created by Christ for a purpose. So please, please...the next time you see a homeless person on the street, picture yourself in their shoes. Picture yourself on the side of the highway, praying someone would give you a dollar. Picture yourself standing outside of the store, crying when someone hands you an apple. Because seriously...

It could be you.

Dear Readers,

  It has been quite some time since I have written a blog post, and it is simply because life has been hectic. I am merely human, and sometimes I feel like I can't even juggle it all. My mind is racing with all of these ideas, fantasies, dreams and visions, that every now and then, can make me feel less like Super Woman and more like a dreamer. People think I'm crazy by the way I live...moving here and there, travelling to this place, meeting and hanging out with "those people" (ya know, the people that aren't so-called normal in societal standards) and never having a place of my own. Honestly, there are times where I want to just punch those people in the throat (okay, maybe not that violent...I don't fly that way) and just tell them to keep their opinions to themselves, because quite frankly, I am happy where God has me. To me-I am stable. 

So much has happened within the past month or so since I have wrote last. I guess I should start out by saying that I no longer live in Alaska. (That was totally unexpected and a shocking reality) In the beginning of April, after only being back in Alaska for two weeks once I returned from visiting my family in Ohio, I moved to Oregon to further my relationship with my boyfriend, Matthew. So...ya, that happened, and in the middle of that, I think I forgot how to breathe. I lived with him, his dad, and his grandma for a month, and due to some personal and family things on Matt's side, his grandma made me move into a woman's shelter here in Eugene, Oregon. (Shocker!) Trust me, just because I live in a homeless shelter, does NOT make me homeless. I am not homeless. Its just a temporary fix until Matthew and I can get our own place.

 Since living in the shelter, God has placed so many women in my life to minister and grow closer in Christ with. We (the women in the shelter) all have different stories and background. Some have past abuse trauma, and personal afflictions that only God can heal. Being in this environment has allowed me the opportunity to kind of "kick butt" like a ninja turtle princess, and strive to succeed in placing stepping stones. This is not my first go-around with this type of living style, and being able to cope with such a dramatic and heavy-burdened change, has become easy for me to adapt too. Its just another season that I am going through, and through the women and what Christ is teaching me...I am there for a reason. I am there to heal and maintain a healthy mind set. I have been staying here at the mission for almost a week, and in that week, God has been in quick movement. He has opened doors for a job interview, applied for college AND got accepted! (I start next month for Graphic Arts and Design). I am not scared or worried, A little impatient at times, but I know that I am here for a reason. Everything is going to be okay! 

So, I apologize if this is not the report that you were wanting to read, but know that I appreciate all prayers and support as possible! God has me right where He wants me and I don't have to be afraid. Nor am I...I actually love my life. It's tough sometimes, but it makes living even more exciting! Hope and pray that all is well with all of you lovely people! Will write again soon! 

Blessings! 

Malarie

WanderLust

  I want to live like no other twenty-two year old has lived before. I want to do things and go places that people believe are impossible to venture too. I want to travel the world and meet people who are different than myself. I want to live on the edge.

 In four months, I will be turning twenty-two. I don't know why, but every year around this time, I always think back to the previous year(s) and what I have gone through or endured. I believe that I have done so many things that people my own age either want to do what I have done as far as travels go, or they sit back and say "no way". I honestly, don't want this life and these journey's that I am on to come to a stop. The places and people that Jesus has allowed me to visit, live in, and endure in experiences, has been amazing! 

I have been travelling for the past three years, have lived in four states in two years, and met over 1,500 people. (I counted) A lot of people view my life as me being "unstable" or "immature". In the beginning, I agreed with them. There would be times where I would be upset with God for the path that He had me on. There would be times where I would be so  scared that I didn't think I would make it to the next day. My senior year of High School, when this journey first began, I walked the school hallways, scared and full of fear and anxiety. I made myself sick, and cried in the bathroom stalls. I purposefully would miss my classes just to try and get away from everything...from everyone. I didn't want to find myself going to the homeless shelter after school, when I knew everyone that I passed in the hallways had a place to go home to. That was then.  
   Now...I am so blessed by the places and the hardships that Christ has allowed me to experience. I don't know many (almost) twenty-two year old's who can say that they have friends all over the United States, lived in a homeless shelter not once, but twice, and have gone through abusive situations, some life and death situations to help others...and still have a smile on their face through it all. It's not by my strength that I have been able to get through it all, but by the grace of God. He is the reason that I am alive. I am blessed to be able to live the life that He has me living, because not too many people get to live this type of life. 

This life, this journey, allows me to witness and spread the love of Christ to others. This life and journey allows me to understand the term of "hardship" and "discipline" in ways that a lot of people my age, don't understand. This life and journey allows me to experience freedom. Freedom that I once thought didn't exist. Freedom that wasn't in reach, but has now been placed right at my fingertips. All of the things that God has allowed me to do and will do in the future, is to bring Him and His kingdom, glory. This life and journey allows me, through Christ in me, to change the world, one place, one person, one country, at a time. 

I wouldn't change it for the entire WORLD.

Snot, French Fries, and Alaska

  I have been in Wasilla for almost a week, and I must say that things are quite stressful. There have been times where I ask myself "Mal-what are you doing here?", and sometimes, I regret leaving Ohio, but I know I regret it in the wrong way. I regret it more on selfish terms, and not wanting to do difficult things. So life goes on...I'm here in Wasilla, Alaska.

Today, I had a job interview at a local daycare about twenty minutes away from where I am living. I am in a bit of a "pickle" because I am unsure of whether or not I should take that job. Don't get me wrong-a job is a job no matter what. But this job has no benefits, can't promise full time, and only makes $8.75 an hour. (Minimum wage) When I logically sit down and think about should I or shouldn't I, I think back to my last daycare job where I was making $9 an hour. Even then, I worked full time, ten hours a day, and still lived paycheck to paycheck. If I take this job, then I will hardly even be able to live paycheck to paycheck, and pay my bills on time. But a job is a job. I wish this wasn't so hard.  Finding a job isn't too hard to find here in the "valley", if you don't mind working at fast food places and gas stations that is. So with that, I eve found myself applying (once again) at McDonalds, and Carl's Jr (a.k.a Hardee's).

Selfishly, I think to myself, "Malarie, you did NOT come back to Alaska to flip burgers and salt some french fries! You came here to better yourself and to show others Jesus! Get a move on!" And then there are times where God steps in, actually a lot of times, where He says "Malarie, you are a follower of me. You are my disciple, and where I tell you to go and work, you will do so." Just like my own earthly father would tell me. "Whatever I say, goes." type of thing. God always win.

So...do I take this daycare job, or do I work at McDonalds? I guess when it comes down to it, God will still use me to teach others His word and His love.

CONQUEROR

 Last week, I found myself embarking on a new journey. This time last week, I was on a plane back to Alaska from visiting my family and friends in Ohio. This time last week, I had no idea what was going to happen, or where I was going to go. I had nothing physically...no home, money, or a job. But there was one thing that I know that I did have, and it was and still is Jesus.


 Ever since I graduated High School, to some people, my life has looked like a wreck. The journeys and the hardships that I have had to face; living in a homeless shelter, broken relationships, loss of jobs, miscarriage, constantly battling with where I was going to live, etc; make people believe that I have no stability. That my life is pointless, or that I have nothing to live for. And believe me when I say, I have had plenty of people that have crossed paths with me, tell me those exact words.


 Throughout the different places that Christ has called me, a lot of people do not understand. They don't understand why I am so "brave" to just up and leave everything. I have found myself wondering the exact same thing, but in the end, I am reminded that it is because this life is not my own. Nothing that I own or have...its not mine. Its God's. And the reason why I was brought into this world, was because HE has a mission and a plan that is and was delicately planned specifically me. He has made me a conqueror in His name, and because of that, where He says to go, I will go.


No questions asked.

So I Shall

I am down to less than twenty-four hours before I board a plane back to Alaska. I can't quite get my thoughts together and I have cried more this past week than I think I can handle mentally and emotionally. In less than twenty-four hours, I will be leaving my family and friends, as well as the comfort that I have been able to find in the past three weeks that I have been here in Ohio. In all honesty, I would be lying if I said that I didn't have mixed emotions about leaving tomorrow, and a huge part of me wants to just stay back and intentionally miss that plane that leaves at 11:15 a.m. How will I ever get through this?

In the three weeks that I have been here, I have spent a lot of time of "fleshly" worrying about what I am going to do. More-so of where God wants me. Alaska or Ohio...New York even came through my mind. God had me spend countless of hours praying, reading His truth, worship, more praying-everything.

During my first week here, He reminded me what my calling is in my life;all by finding two journals from back when I was in High School. In those journals, I was reminded me of the places that God has brought me through during those days. He has reminded me of the person that I once was...the dark and depressed Malarie. He showed me who I was without Him. Who I was without Jesus. In one of the journals from 2011, (I was seventeen at the time)  there were a lot of Bile study notes that I had taken, and in one of the studies, we were talking about the "Armor of God" and underneath that, I had written a bullet point of "*What is my calling in life?*" In response to that, I had written that I wanted to minister to those who were lost and without Jesus. I wanted to minister to the homeless and tell them about Jesus...a whole year and a half before I became homeless. Some people call that a coincidence, but I honestly believe and have faith that it was Christ who showed me the path that He would have me walking...four years later after I had wrote those entries. In another journal that I found, was one that my parents had given to me for Christmas in 2010. Towards the end of the journal, I was writing a prayer and I told God that no matter what His plan was for me, I was going to follow Him. No matter how "uncomfortable or scared" I would be. I told Jesus I would follow Him no matter what I went through-the "good, the bad, and the ugly." I told God that I trusted Him with my life. I was seventeen years old....I'm almost twenty-two now. And since 2011, God has had me in Georgia, Ohio, New York, back to Ohio, and Alaska, and is now taking me from small town Soldotna, Alaska, and is having me move north to Wasilla, Alaska. In every single state, I have always came to being "homeless" or not knowing where I am going to live. But every single time, He has provided for me. I have never gone without anything. Because this is where God wants me. Alaska. 

And so...I will go. No matter how scared or uncomfortable I am about going back. No matter how much my feelings and emotions wants to stay in Ohio, I will go. All because I made a promise to God to follow Him.

 As Jesus says in Matthew 16:24 "Then Jesus said to his disciples, "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."

And so I shall. 

  

O' Lord

O' Lord, O' Lord, I know you hear my cry! Your love is lifting me above all the lies. No matter what I face, this I know in time, you'll take all that is wrong and make it right.  "

Those are the lyrics that I heard this morning as I woke up from a jet-lagged sleep. Those lyrics are still harmonizing in my mind and heart...eight hours later. I am currently finding myself sitting in a coffee shop in small town, Sugarcreek, Ohio. I find myself at home. I have been here in Ohio for five days now, and I have done nothing but cry out the words "O' Lord, O' Lord" over and over again.

 I am, once again, in a position where I am unsure of where God wants me. What I thought was going to happen, was that I was going to come back to Ohio for three weeks to try and somehow begin mending the brokenness in my family. Mainly with my parents. But I have come to realize, that I can't fix them. I can't change them. I can't change anything but myself. I have to come to realize that the doors for me to go back to Alaska have come to a close, and it brings sadness to my heart at that reality. I mean, what am I to do? Physically and worldly, I have nothing. I am now without a job, a home, and possibly a car. In both places. But the one thing that I know has remained and will ALWAYS remain, is Jesus.

O' Lord, O' Lord. 

 I am unsure of what I am to do. In two weeks, I will be approaching the date that my flight leaves for Alaska. Do I get on that plane knowing that I have nothing to return to, or do I stay and start over here in Ohio? All I know is that I can't worry about the here and now, or anything in my past, but I must stay focused on the one thing that I know will never change. The one thing that will always remain...

O' Lord. O' Lord, I know you hear my cry! Your love is lifting me above all the lies.

Differences

Two days ago, I found myself boarding flights to come back home to Ohio to see my family who I haven't seen in almost a year and a half. As I was having my bags checked, I went passed the "First Class" check bag line and said "Must be nice". A friend of mien was with me at the time and she looked at me and said "Mal. Its just a ticket. There is no difference between you and them. You are ALL going to the same place." I looked at her and said thank you for reminding me of my undesirable selfish thoughts.
   When I boarded my first plane, ironically enough,God placed me right behind first class. I mean I was a single seat away from being in first class. (God sure is funny sometimes) As the minutes progressed of being able to remove our seat belts, I watched the flight attendants walk up and down the aisle of first class and asked if anyone would like a drink. I wanted to shout out "Me! I would like one please!" But then, I started thinking to myself "What is so different about them? Why do they get treated better than those of us in coach?"

I just didn't get it. What is so different? I mean, we are just the same on the outside...humans. That's it

Salty Tongue

"For we all stumble in many things. If anyone does not stumble on word, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle the whole body...Even so the tongue is a little member and boasts great things. See how great a forest a little fire kindles!...But no man can tame the tongue. It is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison." (James 3;2,5,8)

I first heard those words of truth from the book of James when I was eleven years old. I was a camper at Camp Buckeye Retreat Center in Dundee, Ohio. It was during cabin devotional time. The time where all of us campers would sit in a circle on the floor of our cabin, and listen to our counselors as they taught us the directions and the truth that was found in the Bible. Eleven years later, at (almost) 22 years of age, I still think back to that one night when those verses were read aloud. Those words...those verses, impacted my life in more ways than I can describe. That was the night that "taming the tongue" was humanly impossible.

I was around five years old when the lying began. That one word to me, is so bitter. Its as bitter as the taste of salt on my tongue. Grainy...disgusting. As I think and ponder on that bitterness, my mouth has turned dry and my tongue is rough as sandpaper. Truth of the mater is...

  I was a liar.

 Growing up, I would lie about anything and everything. Small things, big things, medical "conditions"...everything. My parents, mainly my dad, would repeatedly tell me that I was a "wolf in sheep's clothing". My mom would always bring up the story of "the boy who cried wolf too many times". Growing up, my parents would also say "Mal, you won't be in as much trouble if you tell us the truth and not lie about it." But no matter how many times they would repeat themselves, and ask me why I would lie, I still continued to do what I, deep down, didn't want to do.

Along with my parents and brother, a lot of people would ask me over and over again why I lied. I mean I lied about stupid crap! I always said the same thing every time, "I don't know." Honestly, I knew the reason why I did what I did. I just didn't want them to know. I didn't want anyone to know. Throughout the years, my parents would spend thousands of dollars taking me to see psychiatrists, counselors, and psychologists. I had multiple personality tests that were given to me. I remember there were a lot of times where I would sit in a room all by myself at a desk, with a pencil and a multiple choice answer test. The doctors would tell me that I had to "fill in the bubbles". I sat there. Quietly. I take my time up until I got to question thirty and then I would quickly fill in the rest of the bubbles because I just simply didn't care. More importantly-I didn't understand why I was having to do such a "silly" thing. In my mind, I didn't understand why I would have to go and see them week in and week out. I missed countless hours of school. Mom would come and pick me up for a psychiatric appointment during school...and I just couldn't understand. What was wrong with me?

I lied for protection. I wanted to be protected from everything in the world...mainly people and pain. I wanted to have control of some part of my life. Looking back, I now realize that I just wanted to be protected from sadness. I wanted to be accepted by my family. I wanted attention. I wanted someone to notice me. 

When I was in the sixth grade, I lied about having asthma. My parents, once again, spent thousands of dollars, to take me to doctors and appointments, to have me checked for numerous things. I had to take a pulminary function test, and I remember my mom asking the doctor if there was anyway that I could "fake" a positive result. The doctor told her no. I was bound and determined to make it true. I believed that I had asthma. So therefore...it was true. Well, let me just say that it was a lie, and seven years later, when I was eighteen years, I was truthfully and honestly diagnosed with asthma. Turns out my mom was right.

What goes around comes around. 

I could go on and on about the lies that I told. I could go on about how I lied about the time my mom simply asked who got the mustard out (it was me) and left it out on the counter. I could tell you how I lied about that and how I told her that it wasn't me. All she wanted was a direct answer. I lied about it. I could go on and on and on...but what good will that do? It won't change my past. It won't fix the bridges that have been burned between my parents and I. I used to believe that my past would change....that was a lie. The truth is, is that my past will always be my past. I can not look back at the things that I have done wrong ten years ago.

But what I can do is look forward. What I CAN do is tell you that Christ has redeemed me. I am no longer a liar. I am no longer a person with a salty tongue. I may mess up and do wrong. But I am human. We all are. And let me tell you this, before I leave...no matter what you have done yesterday, it doesn't matter today. You can't go back and rewind time. I know, I know-I wish we could do that too, but we can't. My life changed when I began seeking Christ. My life changed when Christ SAVED me and raised me from the dead.

That much I know is

TRUTH.

It Took Alaska: Just a Piece of It

Chapter One

   I was born and raised in a small town in Ohio that was located smack-dab in the center of Amish Country. It was a small town indeed. Granted, it was nothing to brag about. I mean we had a bank, two gas stations, an ice cream shop, a butcher shop that was known to all of us “small town folks” as “Suzie's, a restaruant that was best known for its “Amish style” mashed potatoes and gravy, a decent sized park with two baseball fields, and one caution light in the square that would blink red every second, just to remind you to stop at the only intersection in town. Then of course, there was the train that would screech on by in all hours of the night, but never seemed to bother most people. That was my town, and for the longest time, that was my home. Good old Baltic, Ohio.

 

 Now there wasn't a single person or family who lived in Baltic that was known as “rich”. My family was far from that, but my parents managed. As a town, we all seemed to have “gotten by” with what we had. My family did just that. My dad was well known around the town. It was a town where everybody knew everybody, and let me just say; everyone knew who Shane Renfrew was. My dad was strong and built like a successful working man. He owned and still owns a contracting company called “Shane's Renovations.” When he first started out, his business was “Ceilings and More Drywall” . My dad has always been a hard working man, who would work long hours just to provide for his family. Looking back, some of the most memorable moments that I have of my dad from when I was a little girl was seeing him come home covered in drywall dust. He would walk over to the stairs and unlace his dust covered boots and aftwerwards, he would then empty out his jean pockets. First came his chewing Tobacco-good old Copenhagen... with the silver lid. Next would come his brown leather wallet that seemed to have been attached to him since I was born. Dad would count all of his money that was left over from that day at work. Then there would come the miscellanious things from his pocket: paper shreds, receipts, pennies, and sometimes even a small tool. (My dad was a tool man-nothing surprised me about his pockets.) My mom would usually be in the kitchen when dad came home. I remember seeing my dad, quite a few times, walk over to the sink, washed his calloused hands, and when he was done, I would see him give my mom a kiss. My dad was quite the “Nicholas Sparks”-very romantic when it came to my mom and him. That was and still is my dad.

  Then there's my mom. Words just can't describe her , and I mean that with all sincere truth and love. Let me just say that my mom..well, she's who I want to be like when I become a mother to my own children. My mom's name is Gina. She is a person and a woman of pure elegant beauty. When she smiles, she can light up any room that she enters, and when I hear her laugh, my heart is full of joy. She is built with the body of a true mother to two children. Strong. Brave. She has the heart of compassion and has always protected her family, especially my brother and I, just like a mama bear and her cubs. My mom is the type of woman that I want to be simply because she is full of life. When I was little, my mom worked as a waitress at the same restaurant that was known for the mashed potatoes and gravy. When I was around six or seven, (I believe) mom stopped working and took on the job as a stay-at-home mom. I loved that about her...she simply quit her job to be able to spend more time with my brother and I. My mom was the one person that was always there after long, treacherous, agonizing, hours at school and would, every single day, ask the same question when we got in her view, “How was school?”. I always replied with the same answer day in and day out, until the day I graduated, “Fine.” Today, as I write this, I wish I would have told her about my days at school. I just wish I would have told her.

  I have a brother who is three and a half years younger than me. His name is Dakota and he will be eighteen in March and will graduate high school in the spring. My brother is extremely smart and intelligent. Great with finances and budgeting, and if you were to ask me-I know for a fact that he will do amazing things when he gets older! Growing up, aside from all of the normal brother-sister fights, him and I got along “mildly well”. Dakota and I were your typical, somewhat well-rounded, children. We did everything kids do! From sliding down the stairs in our mom's laundry basket, climbing up walls like Spiderman, throwing water by the five gallons onto my brothers (upstairs) bedroom floor and pretending to “ice skate” (we got our butt's beat for that one), to having dodgeball wars with egg yolks. I was the one who took it up a notch and would dump all of the expired (and when I say expired, I'm talking expired by a day or so) milk down the kitchen sink. That was our childhood, and to me, that's the best thing about life!

With all of the being said, that is my family. That is my background of where I come from. 

Let me just say that the story has yet to begin.

Finding Hope: The Truth of How a Miscarriage Made Me Stronger

Growing up I was that girl who was against sex. Anything to do with such a thing, made my face cringe. When I would see my parents kiss , even though they were married, it would make my stomach go into knots. I was the girl that would always make the comment “Gross! Go get a room!” I was also that girl in Junior High who was a part of the so-called “Abstinence Team”...The A-Team. Yup-that was me, going from school to school with other team members who, just like me wanted nothing to do with sex. We would go around telling thirteen and fourteen year old's not to have sex because of skin and flesh eating diseases, and how NOT to have sexual relationships, while still explaining how to use a condom by placing it on a ripe banana. Made complete and total sense. (Insert Sarcasm) I was the type of girl, that when my friends proudly bragged about their weekend flings with their boyfriends, I made darn sure to tell them how wrong they really were for having sex before marriage. I mean after all, sex was and is considered for marriage. Basically, I told them that they would be doomed to hell for the rest of eternity...I mean after all, I was THAT girl.

I graduated high school in May of 2012, and I began my journey of living out the single life. Up until that point, I was still the same girl that I was back in school, and I still had that “Junior High mentality” when it came to the topic of sex. There was, however, a change that took place over the course of my High School career. You can call it hormones, growth spurts, or whatever floats your boat, but I rapidly became the girl who was obsessed (I'm meaning REALLY obsessed!) with sappy love stories. While all of my other friends and classmates were out partying away on Friday nights getting hammered, high, and having sex, I was on my couch partying away in my blue, rubber duck printed, pajama pants, watching Nicholas Sparks' “The Notebook” on the Hallmark Channel, and emptying out all the kleenex's that sat in the middle of my coffee table. All because I wanted to have a perfect, sappy love story just like Noah and Allie. Yup...I was THAT girl. So...after a period of time, and so many empty kleenex boxes later, I decided to set out on a journey of my own to find that sappy love story of my own.

In the following months of August through October of 2012, I lived in Stone Mountain, Georgia, as a live-in nanny for ten children. I'm not going to go into detail about that season of life, because trust and believe me when I tell you that it is a long story. I moved back to Ohio, and on Christmas Day, 2012, I once again found myself packing my small, white, chevy cavalier with all of my belongings (which wasn't much by the way) and I hit the road to small town Corfu, New York.

This is where the story begins...

  When I moved to New York, I moved in with my close friend Emily and her family. While living with her family, I worked at a coffee shop that was located about thirty minutes away from the house. It was there that I met all of my New York “family”. In the midst of working at this coffee shop, I was also hanging with the wrong “crowd” of people outside of my “family”. I spent a lot of my time with people who liked to party and live the free life. They were people who weren't afraid to “let loose” or have a good time. Sex, drinking, more nightly sex flings...I wanted that life. I wanted to let loose and have “fun”. Besides-people were always telling me that I was so uptight about my life. Stressed. That I needed to be free and actually “enjoy” life. So I did just that.

   I ended up meeting a guy through a friend of mine, and after about six hours of knowing each other, we had sex. That guy was my first. I thought I was ready for it, but when the time came, I wasn't. I remember that night clear as day. It was nearly five in the morning and we were sitting in his living room watching Family Guy. ( I hate that show) He then pulled the back of my grey hoodie without saying anything, and started kissing me. I didn't know what to do. My heart was beating so fast that I thought it was going to come out of my body. I remember feeling nervous. NUMB. I wasn't ready. I didn't want it. But when he asked if it was okay, I gave him the slightest nod of yes. In some aspects, I guess that was me giving him consent to continue. I gave him permission. During the few minutes that everything was happening, I felt as if I left my body. It was almost as if I was watching from above, the acts that were taking place. The next morning was everything but a blur for me. I felt sick, and even now, as I write about this moment, my stomach is turning. I walked out of his apartment, and walked the sidewalked path to my car. I was crying uncontrollably. My mind raced at a hundred miles an hour. “How could I have let this happen? I was supposed to be THAT girl who was against sex until marriage. I was wanting to wait until marriage. You're nothing Malarie. You are nothing.” When I got to my car, I threw up. My Bible was sitting in the passenger seat and when I turned on my car, the song “How He Loves” came on. I smashed my hand against the stereo so hard, that the impact ended up breaking my radio. As far as my Bible went, I rolled my window down, and threw it as hard as I could. God couldn't have loved me anymore after what I did. Although there was guilt, shame, and disgust in my heart, it didn't take long for an addiction to the active “sex life” to deterioate my life.

  Two months after the rampage first began, I moved back to Ohio. I left New York and everyone that I loved; my friends, my church family (even though I stopped going for a month), the coffee shop, everything. When I moved back, let me just say that things didn't work out the way they were supposed to, so I ended up living in a homeless shelter and attending community college at the same time. During my time at the shelter, I was extremely alone, depressed, and I was on a mission to seek out attention. I became THAT girl. The addiction to sex was how I learned to live free and let loose from all of the homeless, crummy, life of cards that I was unwillingly dealt. I quickly began to live the disgusting and rebellious life of sleeping with any man that would have me, most of whom I didn't know...that's how I met Derrik.

I met Derrik online. We talked over texting for a day and a half, and before I knew it, I found myself driving a half hour to his apartment. At that point I didn't know what this man was capable of. For all I knew, he could have raped and killed me right then and there. He could have never let me leave. But I still went. When I got to his apartment door, it took me five minutes to find the brave courage (if you want to call it that) to knock on his door. When he answered, he immediately took me to his bedroom. The whole “course of action” was about ten minutes. When we were finished, he walked me to the door and tossed me a quarter and said “Thanks for the favor.”, and that was that. Once again, I found myself being manipulated and used as just another woman that he could add to his list. I felt betrayed, worthless, and full of disgust. I remember leaving feeling the same way that I did when I was back in New York. NUMB. Except this time, I knew my worth. Twenty-five cents...that was my worth. That was the moment that God changed my heart and took me for a life changing ride that I was not prepared for in any way.

In October of 2013, I started getting sick-nausea, vomiting, headaches, and constant abdomen cramping. One night, I had a stabbing pain that shot through my back. This pain was excruciating and it took my breath away. I called a friend of mine and asked her if she would take me to the hospital. They ran various amounts of blood panels, including a pregnancy test. While I waited to hear what those tests were, they ordered an ultra sound. That's when my life changed.

  I laid in the dark ultra sound room, and the technician ran the wand across my stomach and stopped. I could hear her say “Oh my gosh.” under her breath. I asked her what was wrong and she said that she had to go ask my ER doctor if there was anything else that she was supposed to be looking for. I waited in the dark room for five treacherous minutes. When the technician came back, what she said next, was something that I was not prepared to hear....She told me that I was two and a half months pregnant and was getting ready to enter my third month of pregnancy. As she was telling me this, everything sounded muffled, as if I was submerged underwater. I remember asking her quite a few times to repeat herself. I couldn't believe it. I was pregnant. I was THAT girl. I left the hospital feeling nervous, scared, excited, anxious and everything else a twenty year old pregnant woman should have been feeling at that time. The next day, I called Derrik and told him that I was pregnant and that it was his child, but just like with the value of the quarter, his child was nothing to him. His child was worthless. After that, I didn't tell anyone about this new journey, but I told myself my baby and I were going to make it. I went from being a homeless woman who was worth twenty-five cents, to being worth everything to this little human that was growing inside of me. I had in my heart, mind and soul, that I was going to be okay. That I was going to be the best mom that I could be to my child. I had it in my heart, soul and mind that my sex addictive life was over. That I was free. That WE were free. God was going to have me be okay. Or maybe I wasn't.

December of 2013 was the most tragic month of my life. I was almost four months pregnant with this growing child. I was attending a local University, majoring in Nursing, and I was becoming a better person for my child. I was sitting in my English Composition class when I felt the tight, electrifying pinch in my abdomen. I immediately felt sick and ran to the bathroom. I threw up. When I stood up in the stall, that's when I saw the blood. I didn't want this reality to be happening. A shiver of fear swarmed and rushed through my body. I had a friend of mine drive me to the hospital. On that day, December 8, 2013, my life changed forever. No heart beat. No rhythm. My baby was gone. My purpose for living was all but short of living for.

Two weeks later, on December 18^th, 2013, I left Ohio. I left everything that reminded me of the life of hurt, pain and destruction, and got a plane to Alaska. I left for complete isolation and nobody knew the true reason of why I left. I never told anyone the reason why I truly was leaving.

It is now January of 2015, and I am still here in Alaska. I am still living my life. Although, losing Brayleigh, my daughter, was the most heart-wrenching, and painful thing that I have ever experienced, God has given me freedom. He has given me hope. The past year and a half has been one of the hardest years that I have ever gone through as a woman and as a mother. There are days where my heart grips with the wanting and the desire to have Brayleigh in my arms again. She would be turning a year old this year. I would be planning her first birthday. My life would be completely different. But in this pain, I have HOPE. I have hope, that one day, Brayleigh and I will be reunited at the gate of Heaven.

Today, a year and a half later, I am strong. I am worth more than twenty-five cents. I am worth more than the mistakes that I have made. I am not broken, but I am repaired and mended because of the grace that God has given me in the midst of this worldly life. I am a new creation.

I have found hope in Christ.

~This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil, where Jesus has entered as a forerunner for us, having become a high priest forever...”~

Hebrews 6:19