So I Sing

December 28, 2014December 28, 2014 / Gina Haney / Leave a comment

I called her a burn scraper. Yeah. I’ve never been great with conversations. That explains why that was my intro into telling her how through asking hard things of me, she was helping me to heal.

See, when I woke up in recovery I knew in my heart I’d never be the same. (Funny they should name it that, because I wasn’t recovering.) The doctors and nurses played it all off, but I knew. Gasping for air and unable to tell anyone why or what or how I was feeling. Strip a persons voice from them and they’ll be at your mercy. Whatever you or any other well meaning people want to say they need, are, want, feel… That becomes their new identity or prison.

My sister said that after Granny had her stroke, she felt trapped in her own body. That’s accurate.

You know what Satan says about your gifts? “You aren’t very good, and you certainly aren’t as good as_____. Just sing in the car; God hears you there and it’s for Him anyway.” Lose your gift and you know what he says? “Well you blew that. You didn’t use it and now you’ve got nothing to give God. You aren’t useful to Him now.”

So when someone strokes your arm and tells you the doctors say she’s only got 18 months at best, and she just wants to hear you sing. What can you say? I’d like to tell you that I didn’t care; that there were several other people in the room or that I wasn’t weighing my options, but that’d be false. I did know I didn’t have much, but I love her and what I had was enough for her so she could have it.

So I sang.

Then there was the time we were setting in the foyer after service talking. That same bald head wrapped in what the best I could tell was a turban of glory ask me to do it again. Yeah, that isn’t awkward. Just bust into song. Right there. As if I’m worthy of hosting some concert, and these people have nothing better to do than be my groupies.

So I sang.

Then that time after Satan lost and she had a silver crown of curly hair as a trophy to prove it. She came to the seat behind me cupped a shoulder in each hand and ask me to stand and sing. In the second pew from the front, in front of everyone, I found my feet.

And I sang.

She had the guts to obey God and scrape at the raw places. Because if cancer taught her anything it was that to really recover you had to endure. And if cancer made her anything it made her strong enough and brave enough to do the painfully pious.

I stood there with my back to the crowd and laid it all out. The little 10% of the one vocal cord that works; sang. This time I realized I wasn’t singing for Becky or because of cancer or for the ability to avoid regrets over not granting her a dying wish. I didn’t have much but I love Him and what I had was enough for Him so He could have it. And He did want it; like He wants the widow’s mites. It isn’t much but it’s everything I have, and it’s what he wants, and He says it’s enough.

So yeah, funny that my right cord is completely paralyzed and I have 10% on the left because that’s all God ask of us. Our 10%.

So I sing.

Taste and See

December 20, 2014December 20, 2014 / Gina Haney / 2 Comments

This year is winding down and I’m pondering all its held. I chose Psalm 34:8 taste and see as my theme and goal for the year. I wanted to live brave and trust God and see He is good.
I have some trust issues.

When lots of bad things have happened to you it’s not hard to imagine, ponder, dwell on what bad might happen. This has caused me to live safely. It has also cause me to live not trusting, not tasting and not seeing how good God is.

So as wild as this may sound; I’ve let the kids go in the car with their father—without me. All three—at the same time. I know! Crazy right?! And Not once did a police officer show up on my door step to tell me I’m now all alone in the world.
I’ve also left town for an entire weekend with my husband leaving my children here with their Nana and Popie. I left them three complete, all-parts-intact children and returned to three complete, all-parts-intact children!
Truth is, this lessons a lesson I’ve had to review many times over the years.

Three years ago, my sister and I took our kids down to a little waterhole to splash. We had 4 children between us at the time. The oldest being 6, Hudson was the youngest at two weeks shy of his second birthday. This little pool was perfect for our tiny crew. It’s deepest was maybe 24 inches. It had a little tiny pool to one side where the water was only two or three inches. That’s where Hudson and I planted ourselves to splash and play. He was throwing rocks in the water and I was pretending the tiny water splashes were startling me. With every jump and shiver he burst into those baby giggles that sound almost painful.

Next thing I know Jailyn is shouting my name followed by Hudson’s. I look up to see my 1 year old baby struggling to get above the water. I ran after him as fast as you can run in 24 inches of water. A current I didn’t realize even existed was sweeping him away faster than I could claw at the creek bed to reach him. By the time I caught up to him he was floating motionless and limp in water that was now at my waist. I fought my way back to the shore looking at all the 10+ people who were standing there frozen in horror. I remember falling repeated times and pleading for one of the horrified spectators to help me. I remember a warmth on my arm as I fell one of those times. I reach the shore flipped him over assuming I would be doing CPR on my limp baby. When I saw his Eyes were open I said, “HUDSON?!” He moved his glassy eyes to my face. I said, “are you okay?!” He, still in shock, responded with a short and shaky, “yeah”.
I don’t remember a lot after; just clips of life like how I sank to my knees in a crumpled heap when I tried to get out of the car that day. I remember laying in bed sobbing telling Josh, “God had spared our child but someone somewhere had not been, and how that made me feel guilty.” The clip that replayed in my mind the most was the fall in the river when I felt the warmth on my arm. I believe, no, I know that God caused me to stumble and Heimlich my son.
I feel very vulnerable sharing this. The lump in my throat is still as big and painful as it was three years ago. I remember two weeks later when Hudson turned two how a friend thought it would be funny to crack a joke about buying him a life jacket. People who love you can make hurtful comments with good intentions. I bucked up against writing this for that very reason. It opens me up to the possibility that a well intended person may take it upon themselves to help me see how I need more faith or to give in an area where they think I need to budge.
I remember laying in bed night after night trying to figure it all out, because God had stirred me. Sure we’ve had other traumas and we’ve recovered, but God was dealing with me through this one. God was tired of asking me to trust. He shook me and said, “Trust me! Because you are negligent! You think you are living safe, but you are living the most dangerous!”

The lesson of trust has had to be given to me time and time again.

A few nights ago I used my two edged sword to inform my husband of all the ways He and God are disappointing me right now. The next morning I woke with the hangover. Not the one induced by alcohol. The one brought on by the conscience battling it out with your pride.

Doesn’t it all come down to trust?
Do I trust God?
Do I trust Josh?

Isn’t that where it all went wrong in the first place. Adam and Eve didn’t trust God. They thought he was withholding something good from them. Do I really believe God, or Josh, is withholding good from me? That just sounds ridiculous.

Everyday of every life ever since the garden, God has been trying to reestablish relationship with humanity. He pulled the children out of Egypt to say, “Look, you can trust me.” That didn’t last long though did it??? …Before they were believing God was withholding good again. They wound up enduring a lot of pain due to their negligence and “living safe”.
Why am I such a slow learner? I’m prayerfully considering 2015 as being a second chance at Psalm 34:8.

I’m thinking its time to climb on a plane and fly or chat it up with some strangers. What are you afraid of that may be keeping you from trusting in Gods goodness?

A True and Holy Love Story

December 13, 2014December 13, 2014 / Gina Haney / 6 Comments

Here we are in the midst of the Christmas season; which I have managed to make more about the mass of gift buying than about The Christ, but there is still time to fix and still grace to cover that-another post another day.

While we are talking gifts, I’d like to tell you about a gift I received over a decade ago but just realized a couple weeks ago. Jailyn and I were cleaning the kitchen. She was sweeping while I was wiping down countertops. Broom in hand she morphed into a singing sensation as we all do (let’s be honest here). To my surprise it wasn’t “Let it Go”. Today is was the Little Mermaids “Kiss the Girl”.

I joined in and we were belting it out way too loudly to be pretty. We got to the line where it says,

Yes you want her

Look at her, you know you do

It’s possible she wants you too

There’s just one way to ask her

It don’t take a word, not a single word

Go on and kiss the girl.

(Flashback)

I was 12, and my sister, cousins and I were playing basketball at a church down the street; where a bunch of kids would hang out and play. Out of the blue, without warning a boy from school came up and kissed me. There I stood in front of all my peers being kissed without warning by someone I didn’t like. I felt so humiliated. I played it off until I got home.

I called my friends and told them about how embarrassed and grossed out I had been; only to be told I was being a prood. As if that wasn’t bad enough the next day I learned how fast 7th grade news travels.

That was just one of several times I felt invaded by a boy.

Standing there singing those words I had sang and heard MANY times before but this time was jarring. When headlines are saying the count of women coming forward is now 16 and they have nothing to gain and everything to lose?

That’s when I realized the gift I’d been given. I though of how many times we have laughed about how long it took Josh to get the nerve to just hold my hand. I remembered how respectful he had been; waiting for our first kiss, and I remembered the phone call after he had felt he’d crossed the line.

Josh gave me the gift of a true love story to share with my daughter. A bit of truth to counter the Disney lie with. We stopped sweeping and looked into each others eyes as I shared the testimony of true love. Holy and real romance.

A brave young man who lived a life against the grain and in opposition to everything the locker rooms, magazines, movies and hormones told him. A man who respected a girl who was accustomed to disrespect not because she was someone’s daughter or sister or future wife, but because he knew she was made in the image of God. She was Gods and not his.

So sure we can keep on believing those are harmless lyrics, and kids will be kids, but somewhere something’s going wrong when boys are thinking they have the right to girls and girls are thinking its a boy that will make them alright. Its all mixed up, jumbled up and backward.

I am a hopeless hopeful who believes we care and can change things.

I believe we aren’t ok with the schools or anyone else teaching our kindergarteners about homosexuality. I believe uncomfortable as it may be we would rather tell our children the truth then let them go on believing the lies. Because, we aren’t blind to the cost and we know its more than reputation on the line here—souls are at risk. They belong to God and we are our brothers keeper.