Tag Archives: recovery

Cindy’s Newest Book Now Available!

Dear friends, I am pleased to announce the release of my newest book, “An Extraordinary Ordinary Life:  A Testimony of God’s Faithfulness.”

“An Extraordinary Ordinary Life” chronicles a host of profound and life-changing events that have taken place since I began my life of faith 40 years ago.   Since that life-altering moment, I have been awed to hear God’s warm, inaudible voice, felt His promptings, seen His undeniable provision and even witnessed healings and miracles.

In sharing these true-to-life accounts, it is my hope that readers will see the very personal nature of the amazing God I am privileged to know and serve.  He has transformed my otherwise ordinary life into one that is truly extraordinary.  I know He wishes to do the same for all who know Him, to allow His children the opportunity to look back and know that they too have lived extraordinary, if ordinary, lives.

One reader emailed me personally to share (in part), “I just finished your book.  I’m trying to describe how [I] feel…  I’m so full and satisfied and so thankful. Every time I read your writings, I’m left with greater clarity and truth. This by far, was no exception.  The entire book leads us (the readers) to Jesus.  

Every. Single. Page.”

“An Extraordinary Ordinary Life” is  available on Kindle ($4.95) and as a paperback on Amazon ($14.95).

I would love to hear from any of you who decide to dive in…

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Lessons in Crazy-Making

Lessons in Crazy-Making

It was not just a bad night among many, it was an insane night.  Our four kids were all asleep in their beds when my husband and I got into an argument about something rather menial, but he quickly escalated into a rage.  Having no success in calming him, concerned for the kids and seeing the extreme manner of his response, I simply said, “I think you need to leave.” 

At that point, he exploded.

“Oh, you want me to leave, do you!?  Well, if that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get!”  He immediately went out into the garage and grabbed a couple of suitcases, returned and marched upstairs, tromping as he went while he continued his tirade.  I followed him up the stairs and tried to calm him down and asked him to be quiet so as not to wake the kids, but this was his moment to make a scene.  He went into the bedroom, tossed the suitcases on the bed and began grabbing his clothes from the closet and loading them up.  He grabbed his conga drums and other instruments, dragged them downstairs and began loading them and other favorite possessions into his van.

 “I’m asking you to leave until you can calm down,” I tried to explain. 

 “You said you want me to leave, so that’s what I’m going to do!”  

It wasn’t long before the kids were awakened.  When they came out of their rooms rubbing their eyes and asking about all the commotion, their father loudly told them that I was making him leave.  They all gathered together on the eldest daughter’s bed, held one another and cried, while I working to convince the man that he was being irrational (which didn’t go over too well) while simultaneously trying to assure the kids that everything would be okay. 

 After about 45 minutes of loading up his van, he came in and told me he was tired and was going to go to bed and would finish up in the morning.

 “Fine,” I conceded.  He went to bed, I was able to get our somewhat traumatized kids back to their beds, and I slept in the sofa-bed downstairs, where I had been sleeping for months. 

The next morning, I woke early and called my supervisor at work to let him know I would not be in, as my husband was moving out, and I needed to make some arrangements for the kids.  I got the kids off to school, returned home and was drinking a cup of coffee at the kitchen table when my husband slowly trudged downstairs.  Seeing me in the kitchen, he said calmly, “What are you doing home?”

“I stayed home to take care of the kids,” I reminded him, “since you’re leaving.”

He gave me an incredulous look and shook his head as though I had lost my mind.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I’m not going anywhere,” he said, and retreated back upstairs to take a shower.

I would like to say that I was surprised by the absurdity of it all at that moment, but I wasn’t.  My former husband had obtained pro status when it came to responding severely and irrationally.  By the final year of our marriage, the word I mentally used to describe our relationship was “insane.”  It was. Continue reading Lessons in Crazy-Making

The Sympathy Bond

It is a strange thing to comprehend:  most of us as abuse victims actually feel sorry for the person abusing us.  Why is that?  How can it be that, after all he* has put us through, we choose to see this person who treats us contemptuously as a fragile, hapless creature worthy of our patience and understanding?

In my own experience and having had the opportunity to work directly with many victims, there are several things that may keep us feeling sorry for the guy – and subsequently bound to him. Continue reading The Sympathy Bond

Say the Words

“Behold, You desire truth in the innermost being, and in the hidden part
You will make me know wisdom.”
Psalm 51:6

When my children were young, upon asking them to take a bath or clean their rooms or do their homework, there were those occasions when they would look at me with mischief in their eyes, and I knew in that moment that they were considering testing my patience.  I would just gaze at them and wait for a moment.  Then, before they could protest I would say, “I just need to hear two words.”  Almost without fail, a few moments of tempered silence would pass, and then they would quietly say the words I wanted to hear.

“Okay, Mom.”

There was something about just saying those two simple words that softened their will and almost miraculously set their feet in motion to accommodate my request.

Ah, the power of words.

Continue reading Say the Words

Did He Apologize or Not?

Apology:  [uh-pol-uh-jee]:  a written or spoken expression of one’sregret, remorse, or sorrow for having insulted, failed, or wronged another.

One evening several years ago,  a woman with whom I had been corresponding sent me an urgent message.  Only minutes earlier, her estranged husband had shown up unexpectedly on her doorstep with a bouquet of flowers in hand.  The man tearfully professed his love for her, promised her that he would never harm her again and begged her to take him back.  The woman was stunned.  She wanted to believe his words and rush into his arms and receive him back into her life, but something cautioned her to hold back.  She accepted the flowers and calmly told him she needed to think about what he had shared and watched him go. Continue reading Did He Apologize or Not?