tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70744214468123291652024-03-13T02:23:04.951-07:00The Write HopeSeeking. Learning. Growing. Changing.Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.comBlogger126125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-41787768004945774642018-05-15T15:19:00.002-07:002018-05-15T15:19:50.705-07:00Rooted<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As I sit here, quietly allowing disconnected words to swim around in
the oceanic depths of my mind, I hear my eight month old daughter
babbling on the baby monitor. She's awake and the sounds are both
precious and overwhelming. I've been wanting to write for weeks now, but
each time I sit down to try, I'm quickly pulled away by other life
demands. I call out for my 13 year old son to help, which he does, and
I've bought a few more moments of solitude in which to think and
organize my current message. The times are blessed, but challenging.
In December of last year, I packed up and left California, the only home
I'd known for over a decade, and headed east. I imagine what Abram
must have felt when the Lord told him to get up and go to a land He
would show him. Genesis 12:1 records God's instruction to him and it's
direct, but void of elaborate detail. He said to Abram, "Go from your
country, your people and your father's household to the land I will show
you." In essence, leave everything familiar, all that you know and
love, and go somewhere new and unknown. From what we can read in the
text, God told him nothing of the new place, He simply called Abram to
obey in faith. A risky venture for most, but the New Testament Hall of
Faith Fame, Hebrews 11, <span class="p">puts Abram, later called
Abraham, on shiny display as a model of righteousness, faith, and
obedience (Hebrews 11:8-12). He didn't have all the answers, but he
went. He couldn't see the outcome, but he trusted God. He undoubtedly
felt sadness and grief to leave his family, friends, and comforts
behind, but he didn't count any of it so precious or too valuable (Acts
20:24) to miss the call of God. He knew where he was rooted. Do you? </span><br>
<br>
</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2018/05/rooted.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-43410843201661490852017-10-01T11:26:00.003-07:002017-10-01T11:26:59.879-07:00For Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
</h3>
<div class="post-header">
</div>
Have you ever struggled with sin? Ever found it difficult to stop
behaving in a certain way that you knew wasn't good for you? Perhaps you
drink too much and want to stop, but find yourself still pouring that
glass at the end of the day. Maybe it's a sexual behavior and you're
finding pleasure in promiscuity only to have it give way to feelings of
guilt and shame when it's over. Pornography? You want to stop watching,
but the strength of what you see pulls you in one more time. Addicted
to stealing? The rush you get is one from which you want to be free, but
you haven't been able to break that chain. We've all got something and
from mid-2015 to January of this year when I found out I was pregnant
with my daughter, I experienced self-inflicted heartache and struggle
on an unprecedented level. Like Jacob, who wrestled with God (<a class="rtBibleRef" data-purpose="bible-reference" data-reference="Gen 32.22-32" data-version="esv" href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/Gen%2032.22-32" target="_blank">Genesis 32:22-32</a>), I regularly fought with God, myself, and others, and like Jonah, who ran from the call of God (<a class="rtBibleRef" data-purpose="bible-reference" data-reference="Jonah 1.3" data-version="esv" href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/Jonah%201.3" target="_blank">Jonah 1:3</a>),
I, likewise, fled the Lord's summons. I stepped deep into pits of my
own sin and rebellion, and I watched as my family unit disintegrated
under the tumultuous battle between good and evil, righteousness and
wickedness. Recently, however, I have come to realize that despite the
chaos and storms raging around and within, even when I am against me,
God is still <i>always</i> for me (<a class="rtBibleRef" data-purpose="bible-reference" data-reference="Rom 8.31" data-version="esv" href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/Rom%208.31" target="_blank">Romans 8:31</a>).<br>
<br>
</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2017/10/for-me.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-60377814676490304882017-09-01T13:09:00.002-07:002017-09-01T13:09:42.504-07:00It Takes the Rain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Back in January, I was still working in Orange County so the commute
home always took me on the I-57 North, which, if you're familiar with
Southern California freeways, then you know that this one takes you
through some small rolling hills before hitting the I-10. I drove
through these peaks daily, but rarely noticed the beauty they offer
until after a week or so of regular rainfall. Instead, I mostly
grumbled about having to drive in the downpour (pictured below) and sit
in bumper to bumper traffic. I dislike driving in wet conditions as it
is, and most residents of the state will readily admit to being spoiled
by the usually sunny conditions, so when our rainy season hits, people
nearly lose their minds. It's as if we all forget how to drive when
water strikes. Our interstates are jammed packed already without
precipitation, but throw a storm into the mix and it looks like what
L.A. dubbed "Carmageddon" in 2011 when the I-405 temporarily shut down.
Simply put, many of us, while keenly aware of the need for it, don't
like the rain, at least not while driving. On January, 12, however, I
was heading home through the hills after the week of storms had subsided
and I was caught off guard by how beautifully green the landscape
looked as I passed by (see pictures below). It was as if I was seeing
everything for the first time. Had it always looked so colorfully
vibrant and just missed my attention or was there really a difference?
There was just something deeper and richer about the shade of green than
what it had been before the week of storms, and it wasn't long after
that when I realized the sweet parallels in the spiritual realm - To see
clearly, sometimes it takes the rain.<br>
<br>
</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2017/09/it-takes-rain.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-68516144493122528552017-07-08T07:07:00.000-07:002017-07-08T07:07:03.969-07:00Choose Wisely<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>It's okay </i>I felt His Spirit say. After what I had just done, it
seemed incomprehensible that His message to me would be one of
consolation. I had just done the unthinkable, after all. In a single
moment I made the very mistake I had unknowingly been planning to make
all along. The waves of forbidden desire finally emerged from my mind's
shadow and came crashing into the shoreline of my moral compass, or as
Freud would call it, my superego. The gratification and pleasure I
derived from it all slowly faded into a black hole of guilt and shame,
despair and confusion. <i>How could I have let this happen? </i>I
silently and anxiously questioned as I fought back the tears that tried
to fall. I was horrified to have come face to face with the sinfulness
and depth of evil in my own heart. You see, we rarely just make a bad
decision or engage in a particular mistake on the spur of the moment.
Before there's action, there was thought. Contemplation. Consideration.
We entertained the idea of the sin before we acted out the crime.
You didn't just kill that person. A thought occurred before the trigger
was pulled. Even in the most instantaneous and reflexive self-defense
response, the thought preceded the pulled trigger. You didn't just fall
into bed with the attractive co-worker. You first thought it through
and imagined what it would be like. Your nose didn't just accidentally
snort the line of cocaine. Your mind ingested it before your body ever
did. You simply followed the thought trail that led you to it. The
wisdom in <a class="rtBibleRef" data-purpose="bible-reference" data-reference="Prov 4.23" data-version="esv" href="https://biblia.com/bible/esv/Prov%204.23" target="_blank">Proverbs 4:23</a>
that says "carefully guard your thoughts because they are the source of
true life" is undeniable for it is in our thoughts that sin is first
conceived. In my own scenario, instead of starving those ruminations, I
fed them daily over a period of months. The next step was, inevitably, a
painful one. <br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br>
</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2017/07/choose-wisely.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-54836178696635487592015-12-31T10:14:00.000-08:002015-12-31T10:14:00.818-08:00Fervent - A Book Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fervent</i> – A Book
Review</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Broken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Disheveled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Discouraged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Barely clinging to hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those are the words that encapsulate where I
found myself as I picked up Priscilla Shirer’s book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fervent.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt broken by
the looming threat of marital dissolution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Earlier in 2015, my husband and I separated and I found myself
contemplating divorce as the year neared its cyclic close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked in the mirror and I was emotionally
and spiritually disheveled from the harsh beating inflicted by gusty winds of
uncertainty and icy storms of confusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Discouragement over the future lurked along my horizon and I was barely
clinging to hope. I sat alone in my small, one bedroom apartment and, through
tears, opened the pages of one of the most life changing books I’ve read. Ever.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Immediately, I was incited against the dark forces that had
held me captive for the last year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Things about myself that I had forgotten began to resurface in my
memories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>New words emerged. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Called.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Equipped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Armed.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Empowered</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only moments into
the pages, a shift began to occur in my thinking and suddenly, I felt a surge
of strength.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of passion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Of anger</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How dare the enemy aim to rob me of not only
my identity in Christ, but also all of those things for which Christ died on my
behalf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">To hell with you, devil, </i>became the new message ringing in my ears
as I began to take captive every defeating and disheartening thought that had
occupied my mind prior to opening the Spirit saturated pages of Shirer’s book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the words took root in my heart, I began
to see that this was no ordinary volume.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It wasn’t written for the sweet child who prays innocently for a piece
of candy after dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither was it
addressed to the prideful Pharisee type who offers up prayers of gratitude that
he’s not like others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t even
written to the one who already has a strong and faithful prayer life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, it was written to the worn out, desperate
woman who’s on the edge of the seat of despair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To the one who is about to give up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To her who is considering quitting. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was written to the defeated, the hopeless,
and discouraged. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It was written to me</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So if
that’s also you…if you’ve lost your fight, forgotten your position of victory,
or feel your candle is about to burn out, allow me to recommend Priscilla
Shirer’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fervent</i>. Reading it will
leave you changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hungry for victory.
Angry over the enemy’s lies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fervent in prayer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
</div>
Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-84952061808963652722015-09-27T07:11:00.000-07:002015-09-27T07:11:07.702-07:00Perfectly Imperfect<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am free from the bondage of "can" and "cannot"...I have now entered into a realm of "want" and "do not want".. which makes choosing my Father's will far more desirable than it ever was while shackled in the chains of rules and dogmatic thinking. I understand fully that I don't <i>have </i>to select His plan. After giving it a go on my own, I've discovered that I <i>want </i>to choose His plan. I am no longer bound by the rigidity of absolutes like "must" and "should," nor does the catastrophizing over mistakes of which I'm accustomed suit me any longer. Slips and miscalculations will <i>not</i> end me; instead, they will add beautiful and candescent color to my journey's canvas and will serve to grow me. I am liberated to enter into all of life's activities untamed, wildly curious, and completely free to be me. Mishaps are not only welcome, they are encouraged because from them, I will learn more reasonably who I am and why I'm here. So far, I know well only these things:<br />
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1. I am not perfect</div>
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2. That's okay. </div>
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Next step...</div>
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Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-57942681918250137692015-09-27T07:09:00.002-07:002015-09-27T07:10:03.874-07:00It's Okay<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
For as long as I can remember, I've been terrified of making mistakes so to rectify the wrong thought patterns I've had towards them, I recently embarked on a journey of embracing them. Ordinarily this would be healthy and beneficial, but what I've found myself doing goes beyond hugging my errors close and looking for growth opportunities within them; it seems I've been purposing to make them. I didn't just decide that I would learn from them <i>if</i> I unknowingly made them; I deliberately and voluntarily put myself in situations where it was <i>inevitable</i> that I would make them. The results? Sleepless nights and irritable bowel syndrome. Don't try this at home.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmKemQ630ntZEoEEtYPiKX6tjiOeQHy8jygcFWrw9YNE_JMU8jlXDTErnn12rOsouXAOlZfmSuTaO5WfbSkmU-pd46MpYFEsDAHgwLCG8L7wuxukLDF51cjDVrEv-OOgkjD6ecpCVM6Q/s1600/mistakes_quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmKemQ630ntZEoEEtYPiKX6tjiOeQHy8jygcFWrw9YNE_JMU8jlXDTErnn12rOsouXAOlZfmSuTaO5WfbSkmU-pd46MpYFEsDAHgwLCG8L7wuxukLDF51cjDVrEv-OOgkjD6ecpCVM6Q/s320/mistakes_quote.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span class="_r3"><a class="irc_hl irc_hol" data-noload="" data-ved="0CAYQjB0" href="http://www.notable-quotes.com/m/mistakes_quotes.html"><span class="irc_ho" dir="ltr">www.notable-quotes.com</span></a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm still working to find my elusive balance and I hope I connect with it soon because the stakes have gotten too high and the internal conflicts are nearly overpowering. In the last few days especially, it has taken all of my energy just to maintain steady breathing. In the wake of my latest and greatest misstep yet, I'm discovering the underlying reasons for my recent risky behavior. It's not that I really want to do the wrong thing...I've simply been testing my Father to find out how He will respond. Will He yell at me? Beat me down with His wrath? Call me names and send me packing down a path of guilt and shame? Even knowing the Bible as well as I do and after walking with Him for the last eight years, I honestly didn't know. All of us develop an image or idea of God that is based on something or someone else in our life and until we get to know God for who He actually is, we perceive Him symbolically through the being of another. Most of us formulate this symbol during childhood, but for others it comes later. Whenever it arrives, the time will invariably follow when it must be dismantled and reconstructed based on the reality of His true nature. Here's what I've learned so far:<br />
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1. He is not mad at me when I mess up</div>
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2. I'm going to make mistakes with or without trying to make them. No need for added effort.</div>
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3. When I do make a mistake, He responds with <i>it's okay. I love you and you are mine. Call out to me and I will help you work through this. </i></div>
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4. His response feels so odd. But I like it. </div>
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<i>5. </i>It really is going to be okay. </div>
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Next step...</div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbhbznE-MS4" target="_blank">Video Credit</a></div>
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Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-13217864436926507242015-05-31T18:39:00.000-07:002015-05-31T20:24:32.072-07:00A Confession<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have a confession. A deep secret boils in the
caliginous recesses of my mind, and it lures me and torments me
simultaneously. I long to hold it close for the gratification of my
flesh, but I'm even more compelled to let it go in order to protect my
spirit. Never before have I physically felt the war between good and evil
raging the way I do now. In one direction, I hear God gently whisper (I
Kings 19:12) <i>return to me </i>(Joel 2:12) and in the other, a seductive
voice calls out to me from the darkness that is<i> </i>my shadow. Carl Jung
described the allegorical shadow as the "<i>hidden, repressed, for the
most part inferior and guilt-laden personality whose ultimate ramifications
reach back into the realm of our animal ancestors and so comprise the whole
historical aspect of the unconscious...</i>". Until recently, I had
never fully explored mine, at least not intentionally, and as I have begun to
open myself up to its existence, I now know why. For most of my Christian
walk, I've ignored its pull and even denied it, but as Dr. Stephen Diamond said
"<i>The shadow is most destructive, insidious and dangerous when
habitually repressed.</i>..". This, I know to be true because once
the restraint has been lifted, sin will undoubtedly ensue. More than once
lately I have been caught in the snare of my own unconscious turned conscious
desires, and like the opening of Pandora's Box, the invitation to the shadow to
become center stage can give full vent to the most gruesome consequences.
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7r2kef8qTJrWuHuNNAOFxYtntJujGbxBIM-xAHWY3mkQDdUogwvjxzAWxEq6IqsOxtdSORoTp7ktos2wt7uFySmdpafXRX8j7XDYKotM2Uo52uuC4yZMQBLDNr9GW_boKXnxbTlDAQ34/s1600/shadow+two.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7r2kef8qTJrWuHuNNAOFxYtntJujGbxBIM-xAHWY3mkQDdUogwvjxzAWxEq6IqsOxtdSORoTp7ktos2wt7uFySmdpafXRX8j7XDYKotM2Uo52uuC4yZMQBLDNr9GW_boKXnxbTlDAQ34/s320/shadow+two.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">www.embracetheshadow.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What, then shall we say? Should we continue in ignorance of
the shadow's urges? No, we should know full well what it wants that we may be
prepared to give an answer when the time comes (1 Peter 3:15). To be
clear, the shadow is not to be avoided, but embraced for the purpose of
assimilation or integration. I'm not there yet. I'm still
navigating its depths, trying desperately not to fall completely under.
No matter how badly I misstep, however, and I often do, somehow I know that
Genesis 28:15 is true when God says "<i>I am with you and will watch over
you wherever you go.</i>" If that wasn't enough, Isaiah 41:13 says "<i>For
I am the LORD your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do
not fear; I will help you</i>." I'm not getting it right everyday, but
when it's all said and done, Proverbs 19:21 says that "<i>many are the
plans in a person's heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails</i>."
This, too, I know to be true and as I continue on this journey of exploration
and deeper self awareness as a therapist, I rest on Exodus 14:14 that says I
need only be still for "<i>the Lord will fight</i>" for me. What
confessions do <i>you </i>have and to what or whom does <i>your </i>shadow cry
out? Don't run from it, engage to understand it and let God help you overcome it. (Romans 8:37). </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zgKry5VYs74 </div>
</div>
Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-41153947763062421362015-04-05T14:09:00.002-07:002015-04-10T12:57:12.670-07:00Lay My Burden Down<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was devastated. Word of her pregnancy should have lifted me to
jubilant celebration, but instead it only reminded me of my own
barrenness. During the last month she had accidentally been careless
with protective measures against conception, while across the map in my
own corner of the world, I was purposely careless and pleaded with God to work a miracle through
the physiological impossibilities shared between my husband and me. She
neither planned on nor wanted more children, but I longed for as many
more as the Lord would give. The last month in particular, I had taken
bold and daring steps of faith and risked letting my hope rise again.
Like every other month throughout the last eight years, though, the
wave of hopeful anticipation and expectation crashed ruthlessly into the
rocky shoreline of failed attempts and cold nothingness. Allowing
myself to hope again was simply becoming more than I could bear and I
reminded the Lord of Proverbs 13:12 that says "hope deferred makes a
heart sick..." At my core, I felt my heart becoming sick as depression
mercilessly reared its ugly head again. Nothing, however, could have
prepared me for what God asked me to do that night on my way home when
He said to lay my burden down...<br>
<br>
</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2015/04/lay-my-burden-down.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-20189346871322035352015-02-18T15:11:00.001-08:002015-02-18T15:37:20.563-08:00Ripple Well<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
During the last couple months of 2014 I was feeling like I had lost something. I noticed it affecting my work and I saw it in my distractions, lack of motivation, and generally fatigued countenance. For the most part, I was the same as always. I was upbeat in a group, I smiled at all of my patients and co-workers, and maintained my family life as usual. I even laughed and went about my daily living as if nothing had happened. But something did happen. In early November, my entire world was shaken when I heard the news that one of my mentors was killed. At 3:00 in the morning, word of her murder brought me to my knees and I could barely breathe. My mind struggled to process what my eyes read in a message from a friend, and even now, several months later, I find it difficult to think about her. The almost three month writing gap you see on my site is evidence of an internal struggle I faced in the wake of her death. When she would come to mind, I felt a pain that was unfamiliar and jagged. My eyes would well with tears and I hurt. A lot. I would squeeze my eyes tightly shut and shake my head from side to side as if to forbid memories of her entry into my thoughts. On the treadmill once, she refused to be denied access into my mind and I lost my breath and dropped to the ground in tears. I gave myself those few moments, but something going on outside of me always demanded that I not linger on any emotional devastation. I had to pull it together and keep going. But now...<br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2015/02/ripple-well.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-27069795867077292042014-11-26T19:10:00.000-08:002014-11-27T05:35:42.819-08:00To See<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Two days a week I work at a locked psychiatric hospital located in south Los Angeles. Tucked neatly between Inglewood and Compton, it's not in an area you want to be after dark and I recently discovered that it's not a place I want to be during daylight hours either. As I took my exit one day recently, I approached the intersection where I make my last right turn to get to the facility. When I neared I saw a man running across the street to my left with several more men running after him. The scene was ominous, but it wasn't until I directed my attention to the stop light ahead that I began to fervently pray. Across the street from me was a group of at least five other males, one of whom was on the ground being beaten so mercilessly that I feared the others would kill him. I didn't know whether or not they had guns, but given the area I knew a shooting wasn't unlikely and I was sitting right in the crossfire. With a car in front of me, behind me, and beside me, I felt trapped and scared. In a panicked state I could only watch in horror and pray to the heavens as he lay there on the ground while a multitude relentlessly assailed him. The truth is, I didn't know what to do. Not knowing how much more violent it was going to get, I took a quick inventory of my options, but wedged between three cars I could only wait and seek the Lord. As I tearfully watched the man being attacked, I begged God to make them all stop. I could think of nothing else to do but pray, so I prayed. And prayed. And prayed. I had no idea what would happen next as I examined the flailing victim on the ground and my own precarious position. My heart hurt for the entire situation and my mind raced with what ifs. The scene reeked of gang violence and I couldn't understand why I was there at that exact moment in time. I didn't know what the Lord wanted of me right then or why timing worked out perfectly for me to witness it all. Was I supposed to help somehow, and if so, in what way? Though I prayed relentlessly, I felt useless and frightened. I pleaded for God to intervene and then suddenly the car in front of me moved and I had the opportunity to go around him. I took one last glance at the ongoing assault and sped away in fitful prayer. I sought the Lord's intervention, but also my own understanding. Why was I there? What was God's purpose in allowing me <u><b>to see</b></u> it all? It would be days later before I realized that the answer was in the question. <br>
</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2014/11/to-see.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-66682893746796793512014-09-13T13:18:00.000-07:002014-09-13T22:51:45.050-07:00Beautiful<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_W_6n7mxvM-x8_cT5yQBmNKaLoOotx-U_vrpxipT2YOsbk13LB8M07gP8_EX5-jKIk_5Fpuz0L2g5km9A6ex7_EgLQPZNkgY5MlLpJ_DNu1NVTqvftnDzp2jW0OBnB4AXkJiSsPbh1-8/s1600/IMG_3035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_W_6n7mxvM-x8_cT5yQBmNKaLoOotx-U_vrpxipT2YOsbk13LB8M07gP8_EX5-jKIk_5Fpuz0L2g5km9A6ex7_EgLQPZNkgY5MlLpJ_DNu1NVTqvftnDzp2jW0OBnB4AXkJiSsPbh1-8/s1600/IMG_3035.JPG" height="150" width="200"></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4eFJ6L5CHi9fi80j2MKNDsuIpoGIOLrEPffu3WRsf81aVEdQHpQBM_OUMS1ZbPu59zQpWYoGJPN612SOg2zNhdRhBAfxicqreiRbSdehIyazpKsYWRG4SEELX9sZZ8zOJN_6yrjGQz40/s1600/IMG_2619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4eFJ6L5CHi9fi80j2MKNDsuIpoGIOLrEPffu3WRsf81aVEdQHpQBM_OUMS1ZbPu59zQpWYoGJPN612SOg2zNhdRhBAfxicqreiRbSdehIyazpKsYWRG4SEELX9sZZ8zOJN_6yrjGQz40/s1600/IMG_2619.JPG" height="200" width="150"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgm2cAekt2iwXVP4A6xFzSkJGTUHjLjYGop61bLmbQq3RZg1tffIIHljYY9Uv5PTfn9Z8dB1UGQqwjKxRJN7ePi8MG1bePHg28DapkDsyKkuobjJg7g_1mr6bJfeos_6sOESvrfrVQmJI/s1600/Chocolate+peppermint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgm2cAekt2iwXVP4A6xFzSkJGTUHjLjYGop61bLmbQq3RZg1tffIIHljYY9Uv5PTfn9Z8dB1UGQqwjKxRJN7ePi8MG1bePHg28DapkDsyKkuobjJg7g_1mr6bJfeos_6sOESvrfrVQmJI/s1600/Chocolate+peppermint.jpg" height="200" width="150"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qiBFMEJCvK1TFB-dupG8POq4SpKcxIINmVTRBuuU_wcn0FAIcbnhVZxG-QaaT01AlWfEaMO57c7AeZdm7vNfX2uhAVpdBOOdjvSm3XDSDVjHYB9gw_QBRR3i5Bu-zJrA2Cg-L-gLaZA/s1600/Dimitri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4qiBFMEJCvK1TFB-dupG8POq4SpKcxIINmVTRBuuU_wcn0FAIcbnhVZxG-QaaT01AlWfEaMO57c7AeZdm7vNfX2uhAVpdBOOdjvSm3XDSDVjHYB9gw_QBRR3i5Bu-zJrA2Cg-L-gLaZA/s1600/Dimitri.jpg" height="200" width="150"></a>For the first time since I've been back from Vienna, I recently pulled out the notebook I kept while I was there. Inside of it are countless recordings from professors on dream analysis, existentialism, and the general inner workings of Freudian psychoanalysis. Mingled frequently within the academic jottings, however, were my own written prayers and pleas to God for understanding and deliverance. I longed for insight into my purpose in being there, but more than that I often yearned to return home. I missed my husband and son, and to put it simply, I was homesick before I ever even left home. Since I've been back, though, I've had ample time to reflect on my time there and it now makes me smile. I can still see Dimitri, a tiny Chihuahua that greeted me most mornings down in the breakfast hall. I also remember finding immense comfort from the pages of my Bible while I nibbled on small, "schokolade" peppermint patties. The two just seemed to go hand in hand. Literally. I can still smell the inside of St. Stephen's Cathedral, a place where all of my worries seemed washed away the minute I entered the magnificent structure. It's also unlikely that I'll ever forget the taste of the best vegan pizza I've ever had from a small pizzeria just down the street from my hotel. Reflection on these things continues to bring me immeasurable joy, but they are even more cherished because of the challenges and hardships I endured in order to experience them. For me, it was an arduous journey that relentlessly tested the limits of my mental, physical, and spiritual strength. I walked on foot for many long distances, stepping on glass along the way. I traversed bumpy roads to stand atop Am Himmel, and I endured nearly three weeks of intense sleep deprivation. I got lost the first night there and I could scarcely converse with my family back home throughout my stay. The dialogues were brief and the distance of time and space wide. In the city, I didn't speak the language, nor walk the pace. I slept without air conditioning and ate what was available, and as I look back on it all now, it was in one word - beautiful. <br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2014/09/beautiful.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-49064050559133439322014-08-28T17:24:00.001-07:002014-09-19T07:54:55.148-07:00On Facebook<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My husband and I recently decided to close out our Facebook accounts, and while this elicited support from some, others weren't as understanding. One person in particular let me know that, for him, Facebook was just a given and routine part of his day, a part of his life. My initial unspoken response to this was "well, good for you, but that doesn't mean it has to be a part of mine." I didn't say it, but I was thinking it and I resented everything about the way in which he condescendingly presented his reasons for staying on it while belittling mine for walking away from it. I felt like each individual should be able to make that decision independent of coarse objections from others. Though I'm sure he was well intentioned, he nevertheless came across as judgmental and insensitive. Absolutely nothing about the conversation made me want to talk to him again in the near future, and losing sleep over it the following night only irritated me more. I was unable to shake the uncharacteristically pompous tone in his usually loving and humble voice, and no matter what I did I simply couldn't shake the feeling of annoyance and resentment. In my prayers, however, I began to ask God if maybe I had made a mistake. Was I supposed to stay connected so that others wouldn't feel disconnected? Was I meant to ignore all the reasons my husband and I had for deactivating it so that a small few might not feel out of touch? In the aforementioned conversation, the person also reminded me that my posts were inspiring to many and used by God often. His point seemed to be that by me closing out my account, I was also shutting that door of usefulness in God's kingdom. This, too, I considered on my sleepless night of prayer. Did God need Facebook to use me? Did <i>I </i>need Facebook to be used by God? His answer was surprisingly unsurprising.<br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2014/08/on-facebook.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-76695857706495576242014-08-21T15:20:00.001-07:002015-04-08T10:26:59.679-07:00A Purpose In It<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've been working on the proposal chapter of my dissertation recently and the progress I've made seems so small. How much more can I say about the research methodology and design? It's qualitative, it's phenomenological, and it's heuristic, yet the powers that be need me to elaborate on this all to demonstrate my working knowledge of the process. I feel rebellious and annoyed. While I should be researching, I find myself staring blankly into space while mentally going over my grocery list. Sometimes I even get up to clean house. Unfortunately, my deflection accomplishes nothing and the project goes nowhere. Literally. It remains here before me just waiting on the yielding of my stubbornness to submissiveness. From the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of some notes pertaining to the phenomenon of abandoned faith among clergy and I scowl. It's as if I'm angry that the burden has been placed on me, but then I remember one thing. <i>I </i>placed the burden on me. What's more is that I don't <i>have </i>to complete anything. I <i>get </i>to complete it. The burden is not a burden, but a privilege. It has been said that only 1% of the U.S. population has a doctoral degree, and although I actually think that number has risen, the fact remains that it's a small percentage. What an honor to be given the opportunity to achieve something so rare, and yet most days I hear myself grumbling and complaining.<i> </i>I'm aware that Philippians 2:14 tells me to do all things <i>without</i> complaining and arguing, but as lifetime groaners we usually learn this one the hard way. Instead of expressing our dissatisfaction over a situation, 1 Thessalonians 5:18 says to "<i>give thanks in all circumstances</i>." While this sounds spiritually significant and sound, it actually has little to do with words like "hallelujah" and "praise the Lord," unless those words are spoken in both the good times and the bad. <br>
</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2014/08/a-purpose-in-it.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-29231767872194779452014-08-12T19:01:00.001-07:002014-08-12T19:28:40.477-07:00A New Broken<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I recently returned home from a two week trip in Vienna, and the warm welcome I had envisioned quickly turned dark when I was faced with a loved one's bitterly painful betrayal. Less than 24 hours into my arrival back in the states, I struggled through sleep deprivation turned depression to process the unexpected unpacking of hurtful actions. It all seemed so unfair given what I had already endured spiritually, mentally, and emotionally during the weeks I had been away. I simply didn't feel strong enough to handle a single thing more. My first full day back, I walked through the hours mostly tearful as I asked God why He would allow something so heavy to be put on me at a time when I was already so weak and vulnerable. Since then, 2 Corinthians 12:9 that says "My grace is sufficient for you..." has continued to make its way into my mind and heart. Well "I can't do this," I told the Lord, but with every "I can't" He reminded me with Philippians 4:13 that "I <i>can</i> do all things through Christ who strengthens me." This brought me to the bigger problem. I didn't <i>want </i>to. Mine wasn't a problem of strength or ability because with the Holy Spirit, both were remedied. Mine was a heart problem and I was only just beginning to see the shades of a new broken. <br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2014/08/a-new-broken.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-57706884510973546892014-07-27T06:40:00.003-07:002014-08-01T05:10:05.991-07:00The Boundary of Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Part of what I love so much about writing is the eraser. Before I ever produce something for publication, I get at least a hundred do overs. I need those. You wouldn't think I would have to erase or backspace anything in the meager lines you now read, but backspace I have indeed. I would love to say that writing comes easily to me, but the truth is it doesn't. Like most things in my life, I have to work really hard to produce anything of substance and to be honest, I'm not always sure what I write is "of substance." I try though and I hope it is, if not for all, then at least for some. In either case, I thank God for the eraser and backspace button. It's like they were made just for me and I love them. Especially today. As I type now, I sit in a hotel room in Vienna marveling over my current place in time and space. I find myself torn between a bleeding desire to return home and a painful and curious determination to remain. What will come of it all, I don't yet know. I simply pray for the wisdom to recognize God's leading as it comes. And it does come. Every fiber of my being knows He is directing my path, and so often it seems to be facing the opposite direction of where my feet aim to walk. Sometimes run. Have you ever walked backwards on a treadmill? It's an odd feeling until you get used to the movement, and for me, being in Vienna has been a backwards walk on a treadmill that moves only forward. To ease the feeling of inconsistency and incompatibility, I reach to turn it off, but the switch is just out of my grasp and I must continue. My feet are somehow clumsily moving forward but facing what's behind, and I sense that in a way I'm stuck between two worlds. I have one foot out and one foot in, but into what? I wonder still, but it seems the boundary is of me...<br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2014/07/the-boundary-of-me.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-36396086251153789042014-06-29T00:17:00.001-07:002014-06-29T09:37:41.436-07:00Dare to Believe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I woke up today my thoughts immediately jump kicked out of bed and began karate chopping away at the peace to which I so desperately wanted to cling. In response I pulled the covers up over my head and purposed to fall back into a deep sleep. Ordinarily I would be surprised if the burial of my head under pillows and covers worked post-sun rise, but lately I've been going two and three weeks without a day off so when I woke up another two hours later I wasn't surprised, just pleased. Inevitably, however, I did eventually have to emerge from my pillow cave and let the day begin, but this time I reigned in my mental martial artist and decided to take the day off. I've struggled with the decision ever since. As I've unsuccessfully attempted to shut out thoughts of my next two psych report write ups, taping a case formulation on a client I don't yet have, and finishing the proposal chapter for my dissertation, my mind has also wandered to the doubt and insecurity I've felt over certain decisions I've recently had to make. While most people would see the circumstances I'm in as the opportunity of a lifetime, for me they have been a source of excitement and courage meets despair and cowardice. In my last post I wrote about taking risks and being brave, and at that time I hadn't decided yet whether or not I could handle making the tough call to step outside the borders of what I know and trust. To leave my comfort zone for even one day is a huge test of faith and undertaking for me, and as I've spent time trying to dig up the roots of my fears and anxieties, I realized something about the ill way in which I sometimes perceive God. First, He's not out to get me for the things I've done wrong in my past. He truly loves me and wants what is best for me. The words of Jeremiah 29:11 that say His plans are to prosper me and not to harm me, to give me a hope and a future, really are true. I just have to dare to believe...<br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2014/06/dare-to-believe.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-18184282737512655072014-05-31T21:11:00.001-07:002014-06-01T17:44:38.233-07:00A Work in Progress..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In the last few weeks I've been on a sort of mental sabbatical from the arduous demands of my life. I allowed myself to get lost in a series of reflections and musings as I comprehensively studied the lives of others. Though I was physically present here in the moment, I was mentally and emotionally worlds away as I immersed myself in others' way of thinking, acting, and relating. It was nice to somehow be a part of their life's picture even if from afar, and interestingly, when the time came to return to my own place in this world I was a colorful mix of melancholy and peace. I was saddened by the goodbye to another time and place, but relieved to be back to what I know, even if what I know is almost nothing at all. In a way I felt that the perspective I had gained in recent days somehow prepared me for what waits ahead, though I don't yet know what that is. One thing, however, is pristinely clear - this life is meant to be lived, not feared.<br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2014/05/a-work-in-progress.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-91436984750972260462014-03-19T14:32:00.001-07:002014-03-21T14:38:23.233-07:00Surrender Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In the last eight months, my life has gone from busy to chaotic to nonsensical, or at least that's how it sometimes feels when I'm trying to juggle the demands between work, school, family, and life in general. I recall several weeks ago a supervisor at work kindly (seriously, he really was quite gentle about it) telling me and a few other Interventionists that he didn't know what else to tell us because "it just has to get done" with regards to one of our daily assignments. Bottom line - do it and leave the excuses at the door. Around the same time, I sat in one of my classes listening to an instructor speak very similar words. "I don't know what to tell you, it has to get done." Bottom line? Do it and leave the excuses at the door. The problem? I was three dissertation assignments behind, had practicum interviews coming up, a family to tend to, 30 hours of online continuing training for work, meetings to attend, clients to see, and three other classes with equally demanding requirements aside from midterms. I started trying to calculate how much time I could shave off of my sleep to get it all done, but if you've seen me on less than six hours, you know this was a bad idea and I was already only getting about five and a half. "How about four, God? Can we make it on four hours?" I asked God with caffeine bulged eyes one morning. <br>
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"What are you doing?" He asked me. "I'm doing everything You gave me to do, Lord, but I think You miscalculated how much I could handle at once," I told Him. The miscalculation, however wasn't His; it was mine. While it's true that God gave me the workload, He never intended for me to go it alone, which, for weeks I had been doing just that and didn't even know it. My own strength began to crumble and not even the supportive shoulders of my husband could hold me up under the weight of endless deadlines, tasks, and demands, so I eventually found myself sitting in our church parking lot crying. "I can't do all of this, Lord, I don't even know where to begin," I whispered through choked sobs. "You just began," His Spirit gently responded. By finally acknowledging my own limitations I was able to receive His limitless grace. All I had to do was just surrender me. <br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2014/03/surrender-me.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-85079679818044384752014-01-21T10:42:00.000-08:002014-02-11T06:50:10.858-08:00Amazing Grace<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I started working on my doctorate last year in applied clinical psychology and the interesting thing about my cohort (see <a href="http://hopewithincollaborative.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Hope Within Collaborative</a> to view our developing site) is that I'm the only one without field experience, or at least I was when the first semester commenced and finished. Most of the students I collaborate with are already practicing therapists or registered interns, so in a way I felt like the "baby" of the group, though my age assured me I was <i>not</i> the youngest of the bunch. When I worked on my master's degree, my program didn't require me to do a practicum or internship, so I continued working in a completely unrelated field as an HRIS Analyst throughout my time as a student. It's not that I didn't want to work in the field I was studying, but the irony of applying for jobs over the years has been that while everyone wants someone with experience, no one was willing to hire me to provide sought experience. Until recently. A few months ago, I found myself casually applying for non-licensed therapist type positions, not really expecting or looking for a response from any one employer, and as I clicked on the Easter Seals job page, I applied for a couple of positions and then closed my browser. Had I not received an email from my school within the next hour about an upcoming career workshop hosting none other than Easter Seals, I probably wouldn't have given my previous applications a second thought, but because it was so coincidental that I had just finished applying for positions with them, I began to pray. "Okay, Lord, what's up? Is this from You? Do You want me to go to that career workshop?" I asked in curiosity. It was two weeks away at the time and I marked my calendar to attend. What happened between then and now is nothing short of God's amazing grace.<br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2014/01/amazing-grace.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-79483728902455577082013-12-19T13:50:00.001-08:002013-12-19T13:57:28.545-08:00A New Tradition<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This past Thanksgiving, my family had an awakening of sorts. The day started as it always does, with me up early in the kitchen working to prepare a special breakfast and ultimately dinner. Shortly after I begin cooking each holiday, my husband and kiddo smell something going on and they join me downstairs where the food is within reach. We pray, we laugh, and we eat, and then I quickly return to my role as Thanksgiving Chef. For the last seven years, with the exception of maybe one when we went out of town, I have carried out the traditions of my mother, and probably her mother, and prepared a feast. It was a job I thought I loved...until I realized I didn't. Over the last few years, I started noticing a pattern in my behavior each year. As the morning progressed each Thanksgiving, this most recent one included, I began to get cranky and resentful of being the sole worker on a day that is relaxing for others. Shortly following these feelings was guilt over not enjoying the sacrificial act of serving others. "God, help me to love this and enjoy this day, and please forgive my sour attitude," has become a basic prayer over the last couple of years. It didn't work. No matter how much I prayed and tried to mold myself into a woman who loves to prepare a festive Thanksgiving feast for her loved ones, it just never happened. Instead, I made everyone around me feel like they had to walk on pins and needles. Worse, they were made to feel guilty for not doing more to help, and last year I even got flowers from my husband and son "in appreciation for all you do," as the card read. I was moved and touched and then felt terrible for having made them feel like they had to reward me somehow for all my hard work. This year I began to pray differently. "God, show me why I act this way. What causes me to behave so badly and how can I change it?" What God revealed can be summed up in Isaiah 43:19 that says this: <i>"See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?" </i>I didn't need to be molded into someone different; the need was a new tradition. <br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/12/a-new-tradition.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-46075996479780076742013-12-11T12:46:00.000-08:002014-01-13T17:10:26.136-08:00Reckless Abandon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've heard it said that our greatest stories come out of our darkest hours and from my own life, I know this to be true. Birthed from my hardest times have been my greatest victories, and the internal pit of hell I found myself drowning in back in 2007 marked the re-commencement of my relationship with Jesus Christ. Though I didn't understand what giving my life to Him meant 16 years ago when I initially invited Him into my heart, I grasp it clearly today, and it's rarely an easy walk. God has gotten involved in my life's most personal and intimate details and shaken things up in such a way that has sometimes hurt, but always, always been worth it. More recently He has been leading me down a path of both inward and outward exploration as I endeavor to navigate through the daunting task that is my dissertation. In heuristically examining the phenomenon of abandoned faith among former clergy (more posts on this later), I have purposed to immerse myself in the life narratives of those who have gone from serving God in the church to a life of atheism, and the journey already has been challenging. While one day I'll experience great success in finding answers, other days like today found the enemy a temporary victor over my mind and heart. As I tearfully talked through some of my struggles with my husband this afternoon, he gently reminded me that God isn't the only One walking alongside me on this path. Our adversary, the devil, walks nearby as well, and as 1 Peter 5:8 says: <i>"Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.</i><span class="p">" As I reflected over this, it occurred to me that I had momentarily let down my guard over the last couple of weeks, and unfortunately, the enemy is always watching and waiting for an opening and the door need only be ajar. In he came and tore at my spirit, but God is faithful and reminded me that the enemy is desperate and fights us harder as our light shines brighter. To this end, I must give God my all in reckless abandon. </span><br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/12/reckless-abandon.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-16641786578568900272013-11-07T11:57:00.002-08:002013-11-15T08:24:10.335-08:00On Becoming Atheist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I volunteered at a youth leadership conference recently and as I wrote my reflection paper for class, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to be swept away in the memories from the day. Because the students in attendance were in middle and high school, my first reaction was to the surprisingly obvious age difference between us. I felt old. Though I'm only approaching 34, being married to someone who's nearing 54 makes it easy to feel like I'm still much more of a kid most of the time, which is why I'm sometimes caught off guard by the reality checks into my actual age. As I watched this particular young group talk, laugh, and carry on as students their age do, I smiled a reminiscent smile while my mind traveled briefly back through time. For a moment I could almost touch the girl of my yesterday as she slammed her locker door shut and ran to class at a small public high school in Walnut Ridge, Arkansas. I watched her in my mind as she sat with friends laughing in the student center when suddenly, I was jolted back to the present by paper assessments and pens being shoved into my hand by hungry students racing to the breakfast table. What stood out most about the day, however, was not my age or theirs, but the unexpected turn of events that led me from a role I had planned for weeks in advance to one I wouldn't have even imagined had it not been sprung on me at the last minute. As I stood outside in the cold receiving my new instructions, I looked up, and in the corner of the building I saw a tall wooden cross that reminded me that God was with me and for me. The change in plans was only a small part of a bigger picture to accomplish His purposes, so I was faced with the decision to either move forward and trust Him or stop right there and leave Him. <br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/11/on-becoming-atheist.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-44769814279442961732013-09-28T11:21:00.001-07:002013-10-16T13:44:56.086-07:00Tell Me About You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As I drove to class this past weekend, I talked to my mom on the phone about the girls night she and others were going to be having at my grandmother's (or, "Nana," as I call her). They were going to have games, food, and lots of fun, an evening truly not to be missed, especially in light of her upcoming 90th birthday. Also in light of her approaching 90th, my mom wanted to make sure she was up for the action and Nana assured her she was when she vowed "if I get too tired, I'll just go to bed." So, it was settled, but we know all too well the truth that rings forth from <b>Proverbs 19:21</b> that says: "<i>Many are the plans in a person's heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails</i>.<span class="p">," and </span><b>Ecclesiastes 3:1-2</b> that says this: <span class="chapter-1"><span class="text Eccl-3-1"><i>"There is a time for everything, </i></span></span><i><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Eccl-3-1">and a season for every activity under the heavens:</span><span class="text Eccl-3-2" id="en-NIV-17362"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span>a time to be born and a time to die." </span></span></i><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Eccl-3-2" id="en-NIV-17362">A man will live only until his appointed time to die, not a day less or more, and</span></span> no one knew that morning that Nana wouldn't make it to that girls night after all. Before the day's end, she was rushed to the hospital and never left. Though her spirit ascended, her sweet, tired body gave out. Nana's Ecclesiastes 3:2 moment finally came and she died that day. When I received word from my sister, I sat in class 2,000 miles away, helpless to do anything at all. So I prayed. I prayed and fought to stay focused on the lecture, but to no avail. As I closed my eyes tightly to prevent tears from falling, I could think of nothing besides Nana, and knowing the improbability of being able to fly in for the funeral, I only thought about it all more. The memorial service has come and gone now, but visions of her continue to flood my mind and I've had time to consider what I would say if I saw her today.<br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/09/tell-me-about-you.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7074421446812329165.post-70264462989635215132013-09-18T13:00:00.001-07:002013-09-22T06:00:00.278-07:00Uncomfortably Comfortable<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm always amazed at how each passing year suddenly becomes the most challenging one yet. In 2011, for example, I was convinced that my life's lessons on love, forgiveness, and faith couldn't possibly get any harder, but when the calendar pages turned to 2012, I was faced with new emotional hurdles that surpassed every preceding year's trials and tribulations. As I ran along my life's course the last two years, I didn't see certain things coming in either year, yet always knew somewhere in my heart that they eventually would. Our past has a way of catching up with our present if we don't successfully deal with it at the time, and mine didn't just catch up with me momentarily. It planted itself right beside my present, masked itself as my future, and generally messed with my head, which created an unprecedented spiritual and emotional turmoil. Though 2013 has brought equally formidable challenges thus far, they are fortunately in different departments, but the one consistency has been the uncomfortable comfortableness of my own fears, insecurities, and weaknesses.<br>
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</div><a href="http://gentthoughts.blogspot.com/2013/09/uncomfortably-comfortable.html#more">Read More</a>Dr. Heather Floreshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09613988033235157881noreply@blogger.com0