To those who actually read this...
At the end, you will wonder "why in the world did she write this?"
And the answer is simply...it was one of those random posts, floating around in my head.
Enjoy.
So...Catalyst is this week. I'm going to be there. Jen Hatmaker is going to be there.
I've been on Twitter and Facebook trying to gently suggest to Jen Hatmaker that she stop by the Wellspring Living booth....specifically on Thursday. Because that's my day to work the booth.
And by "gently suggest", I might mean begging.
It is slightly possible that she has gotten on my Twitter page long enough to right click and save my profile picture, print it out, and hand it to Catalyst security with the instructions "keep this psycho away from me".
Some of you are wondering who Jen Hatmaker is...There was a time I didn't know either. Till a friend and coworker suggested I follow her on Twitter and check out her blog. You should google it. Read her blog, read her books.
I'm a fan.
It's odd when I think about it. I don't get celebrity crushes on actor celebrities or musician celebrities (okay, well not since I was 17 anyway...). I get crushes on celebrities like William Wilberforce, Donald Miller...and Jen Hatmaker. People who have significantly changed how I look at life, walk my Christian walk and interact with my children. People who are willing to share, be transparent...
It's almost like they are allowing us to get to know them and so therefore they should know us. I mean, after all...we have so much in common.
Take Jen and I...
She loves Jesus. I love Jesus.
She loves coffee. I love coffee.
She creatively threatens her children. I creatively threaten my children.
Obviously we are meant to be friends! We have so much in common!
She just needs to know that I exist and she would instantly recognize the connection! Right?
Ummm...right?
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Wellspring Living Blog
Hey guys,
I don't know how many of you read Wellspring Living's blog but you certainly should! Just to let you know, sometimes when I'm quiet over here...my writing is over there. The blog has a variety of blogs about trafficking, the programs, stories, etc from a number of people involved with our organizations and others.
A couple of my latests posts are specifically about my role at Wellspring Living so check 'em out!
The Journey So Far http://wellspringliving.wordpress.com/2012/09/25/the-journey-so-far/
Do Something http://wellspringliving.wordpress.com/2012/07/11/do-something/
Hope you are having a great week!
Cindy
I don't know how many of you read Wellspring Living's blog but you certainly should! Just to let you know, sometimes when I'm quiet over here...my writing is over there. The blog has a variety of blogs about trafficking, the programs, stories, etc from a number of people involved with our organizations and others.
A couple of my latests posts are specifically about my role at Wellspring Living so check 'em out!
The Journey So Far http://wellspringliving.wordpress.com/2012/09/25/the-journey-so-far/
Do Something http://wellspringliving.wordpress.com/2012/07/11/do-something/
Hope you are having a great week!
Cindy
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Branded
It’s been a while since I’ve got to spend a significant
amount of time at the girls’ home. Most of the girls I know really well have
graduated and I haven’t had the opportunity to get to know the newer girls. So
I was really excited when our Volunteer Coordinator at the home asked me to
teach a couple of classes, filling a spot until a new volunteer completed her
training and took over.
I walk in the home with anticipation, look around, give a
big grin to the girls I know and a friendly but not overeager so as not to
freak them out smile to the girls I don’t. And that’s when I see her. She’s
incredibly cute, somewhere between 15 and 17, her face has an innocent look.
It’s the tattoo that gives you an idea of what she’s been through.
Across her chest, she’s been branded. The first word of the
tattoo gives possession of her to someone beside herself. The second-a foul
word-devalues her and gives someone permission to treat her any way they like.
I’m aware that traffickers tattoo the girls like this regularly.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen it-in pictures and in person. Tattoos have
included UPC codes, money signs, and phrases like the one on this girl. It’s
meant to label her as merchandise, property, less than a person. But, no matter
how many times I see it, it is going to bother me. I think about what happened
to her before this, the day she got the tattoo, the men who read it and were
excited. I’m angry…like incredibly angry. And all through the class, as we
talk, laugh and play games, this image is in my head.
After class, on my way back to the office, I am being real
with God. I tell Him how angry I am at that man who did that to her. Angry
enough I’d like to do physical violence to the guy. How heart broken I am for
her and how frustrated I am that this keeps happening.
And God says, “I love him too.”
I choke. I’ve forgotten. Sometimes I choose to forget
because it’s uncomfortable and sometimes I am just so overwhelmed I forget.
As hard as it is to imagine, God loves the traffickers and
the “johns” as much as He loves me. I don’t know what all has gone on in their
lives to make them capable of doing the things they do, but they are broken
too. As much as I pray for justice, I need to pray for redemption. These men
need help. They need recovery. And the reality is, until that kind of help and
recovery are available to both the traffickers and the men who buy sex,
fighting this is going to be harder.
So, I’d like to ask you to spend some serious time this week
praying-not only for our girls-but for the men who sale them and the men who
buy them. That they will come to see the girls as human, as valuable. That they
will realize their own brokenness and that somehow, in some way-through a
person, a program, a church-they find help and healing too.
There is restoration for the girl who has been branded. And
the man who branded her.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Things That Make Me Cry
Diet Dr. Pepper
Specifically older men in Wal-Mart buying multiple cases of Diet Dr. Pepper. It was my Dad's favorite drink...you could say he was somewhat addicted. He'd drink at least a twelve pack a day! By the way, people look at you funny when you cry in Wal-Mart.
Sitting on the couch, suddenly remembering "Crud I haven't called Dad!" and jumping up to grab the phone before I remember.
Denim button up shirts.
I actually kept his. He loved those things. My sister and I joked when we were creating the photo boards for the funeral, that we were going to create a photo montage "the denim shirt through the years"
Songs on the radio-including Miranda Lambert's new one.
18 wheelers
I miss my Dad.
Specifically older men in Wal-Mart buying multiple cases of Diet Dr. Pepper. It was my Dad's favorite drink...you could say he was somewhat addicted. He'd drink at least a twelve pack a day! By the way, people look at you funny when you cry in Wal-Mart.
Sitting on the couch, suddenly remembering "Crud I haven't called Dad!" and jumping up to grab the phone before I remember.
Denim button up shirts.
I actually kept his. He loved those things. My sister and I joked when we were creating the photo boards for the funeral, that we were going to create a photo montage "the denim shirt through the years"
Songs on the radio-including Miranda Lambert's new one.
18 wheelers
I miss my Dad.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Immersion Project
One of the coolest parts of my job is my role as Immersion Project Coordinator. Wellspring Living's Immersion Project is a three day "mini-mission trip" that gives your group the opportunity to learn more about sexual exploitation, the work of Wellspring Living, and what you can do to fight this issue in Georgia.
A few details:
- Groups of 5-7 women, 20 years of age or older.
- Must complete application and background check.
- Each individual will raise $700. This money is used to pay their costs and the remainder goes directly into funding our programs. We do offer coaching and resources to help the individual raise support.
Groups will stay at Operation Mobilization's US headquarter's guest accommodations just down the street from Wellspring Living's administrative office. Arrival is on a Thursday and departure is Saturday afternoon. We do have dates available for summer and fall! During the course of the trip, individuals will receive training, visit both the women's and girls home, have the opportunity to teach a lifeskill class and do an art project as part of interacting with the girls and women, do an outreach in Atlanta, and a group project at one of our stores or the Empowered Living Program facility.
Our hope is that the women leave not only more knowledgeable about the issue but empowered and aware of how they can be a part of ending exploitation-in Georgia, in the US, around the globe.
If you, your group, or your church would like more information, please contact me at
cbattles@wellspringliving.org
770-631-8888
The Quiet Season
It has been longer than I thought it had been since I've sat down to blog.
A couple of months ago I wrote a guest blog trying to make people understand that men who have sex with young girls don't always look like monsters or "low lifes" That they often look like the guy who goes to work every day, come home to their families, go to church. I wanted people to understand the impact of a man's choice on his family, the idea that we must be aware of who creates the demand so we can create accountability and resources that help these men struggling with sexual sin. I'd wanted to write it a long time. It practically wrote itself. I believe the impact was what I'd hoped to some degree or the other. To be honest, I put it out there and let God do what He wanted with it.
What I didn't anticipate is what it would do to me emotionally and mentally. In writing it, I had to share things and in sharing those things, started reliving memories I don't often dwell on...and the thing that got me was it wasn't the bad times that I focused on the most, it was the good. And it broke my heart.
People tend to look at me and see a very confident, independent woman who is perfectly content to be single for the rest of her life and for the most part, most days...that is exactly what I am. I am fully aware of the amazing support system of friends we have-many who are more like family. I'm aware that we get more opportunities to experiences some of the coolest things than most people. I know that the fact I love my job as much as I do and I get to be a part of something so awesome is something to thank God for everyday.
But I never actually meant to do this alone. I liked being married. I like the idea of having someone by your side, being by theirs. I had never meant to not have that and in reliving those times, became once more aware that I'd lost something. That I was disappointed and hurt by that loss.
It threw me and I was depressed for a couple of weeks. Watching Crazy, Stupid Love (a very good movie, BTW) had me on my bathroom floor sobbing. My kids were kind of worried. I was pretty successful at hiding it from everyone else. I prayed a lot, wrote in my journal. Confessed to God that I was angry and felt cheated. Came to the place where I put it back in His hands and praised Him for everything He has given us. Started to feel better...
And about the time I was feeling inspired to write again, I got a phone call at work. My Dad had had a stroke. I knew by the time I got to the hospital that it was bad. The stroke destroyed most of his brain and had he made it, he would have been a shadow of himself, laying in a bed at a nursing home with a feeding tube. But the whole time I refused to quite take what the doctors were saying as truth. As if, if I believed what they were saying, then I had given up on my Dad and that would be the end of any chance he had of making it. Even when they told us he wouldn't make it through the day, I said he would at least do that just to prove them wrong. It's the first time my Dad didn't put up a fight.
If the world were perfect or this was a movie, my Dad would've woken up long enough to tell me he loved me, that he was glad I was his daughter. I would have told him that I loved him with all my heart and despite everything we'd been through, I would've picked him as my Dad over any other choice. The world is not perfect and my life is not a movie. I've told my Dad on more than one occasion that I've forgiven him, that I love him...I just wish I'd had one more chance.
So for the past few weeks, I've been working through my grief. Little by little, I'm doing better. Grief is sneaky so I can be having a perfectly good day and somehow find myself crying. Little things, like a character in a movie who keeps a toothpick in his mouth, can make me think of him. One day I thought "I'm not ready for this" and for just a few minutes, allowed myself to think of him like he was still here. Like I could call him and hear him say "Hey now" and before he hung up the phone tell me "love you bunches". Last week I made it through the whole Wednesday without thinking "It's been four weeks" but today I thought "It's been five" We honored my Dad's wishes. He was cremated. We haven't followed through with the second part of his wish but my Aunt mentioned it the other day. We're starting to think about it. We're almost ready.
Anyway...there you have it. And now I'm ready to write again. It is all muddled in my brain. I'll probably date the posts at appropriate times, so that you are caught up on what's going on with us as a family, with Wellspring, etc. Hopefully I'll be up to date by the end of next week and can blog in "real time" again. Thanks to those of you who know us, have been praying for us, sent your sympathy, etc. I'm so blessed to have you, to have people who bother to read what I think/write.
It's good to be "back"
A couple of months ago I wrote a guest blog trying to make people understand that men who have sex with young girls don't always look like monsters or "low lifes" That they often look like the guy who goes to work every day, come home to their families, go to church. I wanted people to understand the impact of a man's choice on his family, the idea that we must be aware of who creates the demand so we can create accountability and resources that help these men struggling with sexual sin. I'd wanted to write it a long time. It practically wrote itself. I believe the impact was what I'd hoped to some degree or the other. To be honest, I put it out there and let God do what He wanted with it.
What I didn't anticipate is what it would do to me emotionally and mentally. In writing it, I had to share things and in sharing those things, started reliving memories I don't often dwell on...and the thing that got me was it wasn't the bad times that I focused on the most, it was the good. And it broke my heart.
People tend to look at me and see a very confident, independent woman who is perfectly content to be single for the rest of her life and for the most part, most days...that is exactly what I am. I am fully aware of the amazing support system of friends we have-many who are more like family. I'm aware that we get more opportunities to experiences some of the coolest things than most people. I know that the fact I love my job as much as I do and I get to be a part of something so awesome is something to thank God for everyday.
But I never actually meant to do this alone. I liked being married. I like the idea of having someone by your side, being by theirs. I had never meant to not have that and in reliving those times, became once more aware that I'd lost something. That I was disappointed and hurt by that loss.
It threw me and I was depressed for a couple of weeks. Watching Crazy, Stupid Love (a very good movie, BTW) had me on my bathroom floor sobbing. My kids were kind of worried. I was pretty successful at hiding it from everyone else. I prayed a lot, wrote in my journal. Confessed to God that I was angry and felt cheated. Came to the place where I put it back in His hands and praised Him for everything He has given us. Started to feel better...
And about the time I was feeling inspired to write again, I got a phone call at work. My Dad had had a stroke. I knew by the time I got to the hospital that it was bad. The stroke destroyed most of his brain and had he made it, he would have been a shadow of himself, laying in a bed at a nursing home with a feeding tube. But the whole time I refused to quite take what the doctors were saying as truth. As if, if I believed what they were saying, then I had given up on my Dad and that would be the end of any chance he had of making it. Even when they told us he wouldn't make it through the day, I said he would at least do that just to prove them wrong. It's the first time my Dad didn't put up a fight.
If the world were perfect or this was a movie, my Dad would've woken up long enough to tell me he loved me, that he was glad I was his daughter. I would have told him that I loved him with all my heart and despite everything we'd been through, I would've picked him as my Dad over any other choice. The world is not perfect and my life is not a movie. I've told my Dad on more than one occasion that I've forgiven him, that I love him...I just wish I'd had one more chance.
So for the past few weeks, I've been working through my grief. Little by little, I'm doing better. Grief is sneaky so I can be having a perfectly good day and somehow find myself crying. Little things, like a character in a movie who keeps a toothpick in his mouth, can make me think of him. One day I thought "I'm not ready for this" and for just a few minutes, allowed myself to think of him like he was still here. Like I could call him and hear him say "Hey now" and before he hung up the phone tell me "love you bunches". Last week I made it through the whole Wednesday without thinking "It's been four weeks" but today I thought "It's been five" We honored my Dad's wishes. He was cremated. We haven't followed through with the second part of his wish but my Aunt mentioned it the other day. We're starting to think about it. We're almost ready.
Anyway...there you have it. And now I'm ready to write again. It is all muddled in my brain. I'll probably date the posts at appropriate times, so that you are caught up on what's going on with us as a family, with Wellspring, etc. Hopefully I'll be up to date by the end of next week and can blog in "real time" again. Thanks to those of you who know us, have been praying for us, sent your sympathy, etc. I'm so blessed to have you, to have people who bother to read what I think/write.
It's good to be "back"
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Losing My Dad
February 21st
It's one of those ordinary days. I overslept and went to work without makeup on or my hair done. I'm a bit fuddle brained but looking forward to the day. Tuesdays are always my favorite since the whole Marketing team is in the office...it just makes for a fun day.
Trey had a great birthday .
We'd had rehearsals for Dangerous Liaisons and I was calling everyone, getting ready for read thru.
I was taking Bree and her friends to do some final prom shopping that afternoon.
Friday was a comp day...I was going to sleep late.
One of those days where, when you look back, there should have been some foreshadowing but there wasn't...nothing to warn you, no funny feeling, no gray cloud in the sky, no music to cue the fact something bad was going to happen.
I was on the phone with the Volunteer Coordinator at the Kennesaw store when my cell phone rang. It was my aunt, my dad's older sister. Normally I wouldn't have answered it at all but I'd forgotten to turn the volume down and answering it was quickest way to quiet it. Asking Beth to hang on, I answered my cell with "Aunt Penny can I call you right back?"
"Your Dad has had a stroke."
I lost my breath. Hanging up the other phone (I think I told her bye), I got the little bit of detail that my Aunt had...enough to know it was bad.
It's odd how fast I regrouped. How I went into "get it done" mode. How quickly I decided that this wasn't what it seemed...it was going to be like a couple of months ago when we were sure that he was going to lose his leg, when I rushed down to stay at the hospital, all for nothing. I mean...not for "nothing" I'm glad I was there...and his leg was there to...still.
I left work, got the kids...was smart enough to pack overnight bags. On the trip to the hospital I alternated between updates from my sister and calling the cast to tell them about their part and the read thru. I called the director to let her know I might actually miss the read thru.
I just don't understand how my day started so normally.
The doctor is there. He is talking to us.
Extensive damage to right side of brain...coma...MRI...DNR.
Do we know his wishes?
His wishes???
He's talking about life support.
Oh God.
We do know his wishes. As a family, we stand there and express them to the doctor. As the oldest child, I sign the forms.
No life support. No ventilator. No "extreme measures".
I know this is my what he wanted but it tears me up, breaks my heart...
I go out in the hall and sob.
If this were a movie, Dad would've woken up one more time...looked into my eyes, grabbed my hand, gasped his final words of love.
He never woke up. Never moved. His breathing just got more and more labored, more and more shallow.
They moved him from ICU to a room where we could all be with him. They gave me one of those shampoo kits so I could was his hair.
He died the next day. Someone noticed his breathing had changed, was quieter. I watched him and noticed he was breathing less and less. Sent Embree for the nurse. She came in and quietly said "It won't be long now"
It wasn't.
How is this reality? How am I never going to pick up the phone to talk to him again?
Hear him say "Hey now" or "Love you bunches"
I feel lost.
It's one of those ordinary days. I overslept and went to work without makeup on or my hair done. I'm a bit fuddle brained but looking forward to the day. Tuesdays are always my favorite since the whole Marketing team is in the office...it just makes for a fun day.
Trey had a great birthday .
We'd had rehearsals for Dangerous Liaisons and I was calling everyone, getting ready for read thru.
I was taking Bree and her friends to do some final prom shopping that afternoon.
Friday was a comp day...I was going to sleep late.
One of those days where, when you look back, there should have been some foreshadowing but there wasn't...nothing to warn you, no funny feeling, no gray cloud in the sky, no music to cue the fact something bad was going to happen.
I was on the phone with the Volunteer Coordinator at the Kennesaw store when my cell phone rang. It was my aunt, my dad's older sister. Normally I wouldn't have answered it at all but I'd forgotten to turn the volume down and answering it was quickest way to quiet it. Asking Beth to hang on, I answered my cell with "Aunt Penny can I call you right back?"
"Your Dad has had a stroke."
I lost my breath. Hanging up the other phone (I think I told her bye), I got the little bit of detail that my Aunt had...enough to know it was bad.
It's odd how fast I regrouped. How I went into "get it done" mode. How quickly I decided that this wasn't what it seemed...it was going to be like a couple of months ago when we were sure that he was going to lose his leg, when I rushed down to stay at the hospital, all for nothing. I mean...not for "nothing" I'm glad I was there...and his leg was there to...still.
I left work, got the kids...was smart enough to pack overnight bags. On the trip to the hospital I alternated between updates from my sister and calling the cast to tell them about their part and the read thru. I called the director to let her know I might actually miss the read thru.
I just don't understand how my day started so normally.
The doctor is there. He is talking to us.
Extensive damage to right side of brain...coma...MRI...DNR.
Do we know his wishes?
His wishes???
He's talking about life support.
Oh God.
We do know his wishes. As a family, we stand there and express them to the doctor. As the oldest child, I sign the forms.
No life support. No ventilator. No "extreme measures".
I know this is my what he wanted but it tears me up, breaks my heart...
I go out in the hall and sob.
If this were a movie, Dad would've woken up one more time...looked into my eyes, grabbed my hand, gasped his final words of love.
He never woke up. Never moved. His breathing just got more and more labored, more and more shallow.
They moved him from ICU to a room where we could all be with him. They gave me one of those shampoo kits so I could was his hair.
He died the next day. Someone noticed his breathing had changed, was quieter. I watched him and noticed he was breathing less and less. Sent Embree for the nurse. She came in and quietly said "It won't be long now"
It wasn't.
How is this reality? How am I never going to pick up the phone to talk to him again?
Hear him say "Hey now" or "Love you bunches"
I feel lost.
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