Plate-Full

I truly believe God speaks to us, we just have to pay attention and listen. I believe He speaks in ways that are unique to each of us. Just as my relationships with my friends are different, His relationships with each of us are too.
I love words. I love writing, and reading, and enjoy the power of language. It's not surprising that for me, one of the ways I connect with God is through words.
For years now, I have felt as though I've been on an adventure with God. My time with Him has increased and my awareness of the incredible love He has for me has grown and I now finally understand that I am deeply loved and celebrated.
For me, I hear from God regularly through words on license plates. It might sound silly or weird, but I promise you that the encouragement, confirmation, love and smiles that I have been given through license plates is nothing short of miraculous.
I have many stories that would make your jaw drop, and have started an Instagram account purely for this amazing experience in my life, (more on that at the end of the post!) but for today- I'll share just one with you.
A couple of months ago I was searching for a job and anxious and preoccupied with needing work to provide for my family. I hate debt and started my life as a single woman in debt with no real work experience. This summer when my writing contract ended and I was left with part time work and odd jobs here and there my debt began to mount. I was in church one Sunday morning by myself and our pastor started a series that was only two weeks long. It was called "Perhaps". He talked about Jesus' first miracle- turning the water into wine at a wedding celebration. The message was very good and full of chunks of truth throughout that sat with me. I hadn't previously thought about the fact that Jesus didn't yet have a reputation as a miracle worker when he told the servants to take the water jugs and fill them up with water after his mother had specifically told him the family was out of wine. He must have looked like a crazy person- and yet they did what they were told. My pastor pointed out that when Jesus does the miraculous, he always asks us to do something in our natural strength first. He then posed a question to each of us: What 'water' did we need to put into our jug? What crazy, bizarre, hard thing did we need to do in order to allow God to move in our lives and do His part? Immediately I knew. I knew I needed to go home and itemize the list of everything I owed. The debt, the medical bills, people I would love to pay back one day. I had an internal argument with God. I didn't want to look at it. I had no job yet, and knew it was bad, so why in the world would I want to see just how awful it had gotten?! I've watched my credit dip lower, and have sold things and done any work I could find to stay on my feet, but I had come to the end of myself. I was begging Him for a good job, and my act before the miraculous move in my life was going to have to be this task. I had to really look at the mess I had fallen into.
I was sobered and quiet. When the service ended I walked into the parking lot without speaking to anyone. I knew it was a sacred moment and I had work I needed to do. I walked towards my car and got turned around for a moment. I changed directions and in front of me was this license plate:

Can you read it? It says: ADDEMUP. I chuckled and said out loud 'Ok God, I get it. I'll do what you've asked me to do'. THAT plate just happened to be by my car, in a parking lot of hundreds of vehicles, and a church that has three services- and it was there for me. I went home and did it. I looked at how ugly it was and absorbed the weight of that reality. Then I cried and prayed and spent the rest of the day in silence. After three months looking for a job, I was connected to the person who would hire me less than two weeks later. 

For me, the incredible ways I hear Him through the vehicle of license plates is how I know that He sees me. I know He sees each of us, and I'm willing to bet that many of you have your own stories of being seen by God that are unique to you. I keep a small notebook in my car and have been writing them down along with a few notes for several years. I've gone through three notebooks already. 

I've started a new instagram account where I can document and share with others. Feel free to come follow me there! I'd also love to hear your stories if you're willing to tell them. 

I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore.....

I started a new job yesterday.
I'm so grateful for a good boss, a job I think I am going to love, and the opportunity to be connected to the Marine Corps again.
My office is on base at Quantico for a couple of weeks until we get into our new office space outside of the  front gate. I arrived early yesterday and decided to head to the base Starbucks to use some of my gift card, eat up a few minutes and calm my nerves with the cliche pumpkin spice latte. I had no idea the first day of work would trigger so much emotion that had nothing to do with my job.
 I came through the gate as a civilian- and felt a twinge of sadness as the realization that I was no longer an insider in the Marine Corps washed over me. They don't care that I was connected to the Marines for 17 years; they only see the VA state driver's license, and the empty space on my windshield where a base sticker used to be. I pulled into the parking lot of the Base Exchange and walked into the Starbucks. I stood in line behind Marine wives and men in crisp cammies. I swallowed the lump that was rising in my throat. I tried to avoid looking into the exchange where I had strolled my daughter, bought my makeup and shopped for Christmas presents. I stared at the floor in front of me and tried to slow my breathing. I felt invisible. I felt as though I was on the outside of an elite club looking in. My heart was beating hard and fast, and I wanted to run.
I managed to get my coffee and head back outside. As I walked to my car I was overwhelmed with memories. Across the street was the house my sweet friend lived in. Beyond her house was my old house, the park we played in, and the school my kids attended. Memories assaulted my mind and heart as I tried to keep it together.
I am so proud of my history with the Marine Corps. I have friends scattered all over the world that I was blessed to love because of my time connected to the Marines. I adore their hearts, their sacrifice and their traditions. For the past three years I've grieved the loss of my position as a Marine wife and have tried to ignore the Birthday Ball celebrations, the PCS seasons when families move into the area and out to the select few bases around the world, and I have buried that part of me under the busy task of being a single mother. But yesterday, as I drove back to the base that once held me as a new wife and mother, and then a decade later as a mother of four young children, I was overwhelmed with the grief that I haven't processed. I'm so very grateful to have the privilege of working so close to the few, and the proud, and I am also processing the deep loss of a lifestyle I loved.
I have no doubt that the timing and purpose of this job is for my benefit. I have come so far in my healing and growth that I trust God's intention for me to have to navigate these waters. But I have to admit that watching the young, arrogant, Cammie-clad Marines hustle along the sidewalks, I am forced to deal with another layer of sadness that has been waiting for my attention. I can't wait for the day when the sight of digital green camouflage and an eagle, globe and anchor symbol brings only pride and no longer a piercing of the heart. I'm thankful for the opportunity to get to be close to the group I've revered for so long.