Becky Graham's Blog

“My friends, consider yourselves fortunate when all kinds of trials come your way, for you know that when your faith succeeds in facing such trials, the result is the ability to endure (persevere).”

James 1:2-3 (GNT)

My first thought isn’t fortunate when a trial or trouble comes into my life. My first thought is, “How in the world will I get through this?” After the shock, I immediately go to God and ask for help. God is my strength, but I’ve also developed five practical ways to help me persevere during difficult times. 

MUSIC: Music can soothe, uplift and calm your soul. Whenever King Saul was distressed, David would play music to soothe him. Get a playlist or an album that will saturate your soul.

FRIENDS: Be careful who is speaking into your life! Stay away from friends who think they have all the answers! Job had three friends who misled him and a wife telling him the curse God and die. Look for wise people who can encourage and pray for you. 

JOURNAL: Journaling can become your personal prayer to God. Release your words and thoughts onto paper. God already knows your heart, but the practice of journaling is an emotional release for you. The book of Psalms is David’s journal – one minute, he is mourning, and the next, he is praising God. You do not have to show anyone your journal; you can always throw away the journal. 

BIBLE: Many people in the Bible went through difficult times in their lives and didn’t give up. The priest thought Hannah was drunk when he saw her in the temple. Instead, she was a deeply troubled woman desperately praying to God. Just because the Bible records their stories – beginning, middle, and end, they did not get the whole picture at once. They were just like you – enduring through difficult times.

PROMISES: God makes concrete promises to every person. Claim and cling to those promises! If you are a visual person, write and display the promises where you see them every day. Memorize them. Say them. Use them as a source of daily strength to you.

“God will never change” (Hebrews 13:508)“If you need wisdom, ask, and it will be given to you” (James 1:5)“He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it in you.” (Philippians 1:15)“Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of glory that God has promised to those who love Him. (James 1:12)

Friends, I pray these practices help you persevere whatever life throws at you. God has a plan for your life and will never leave you alone to figure it all out. If you need wisdom, ask God. If you need knowledge, ask God. If you need discernment, ask God. Hang on to God as you walk through the tough times. Pour out your heart to Him. Not only does he want to hear from you, He’s waiting for you. 

“If you remain faithful to Him, the more faithful He will remain to you.”

Valentine’s Day has never been a huge holiday for me. Of course, I’ve had some special ones, like in 1993 when Mr. Small Town surprised me with a marriage proposal. But, otherwise, Valentine’s is a day when I decorate with hearts in the windows, and I focus on God’s love for me, give love to my two guys, and show love to people God puts in my path.

But February 14, 2018, changed Valentine’s Day for our family.

As Mr. Small Town left to pick up our son from school, I took our family’s favorite casserole out of the oven. Then I was headed to the store to get dessert, and we planned to meet back home for supper. Then I got the call – the call about the shooting.

The call that changed Valentine’s Day for the rest of our lives.

The years since the shooting has been painful – remembering, memorializing, and marching. Anger, fear, and great sadness filled our community.

I have avoided Valentine’s Day since the shooting. We even traveled out of state for one year, so we didn’t have to relive that Day’s events. Nevertheless, I carried survivor’s guilt. My son came home that Day, while others marked it as the Day their child was murdered.

But this year, I decided to take back Valentine’s Day instead of letting it be stolen another year by the shooter.

I purchased a heart wreath this year and put it on my front porch window. The wreath means so much more than a decoration. It is a symbol marking that I have moved beyond avoiding this Day. The wreath says that I’ve come to a place of peace and healing and honor the victims and their families with love.

Writing this post brings sadness to my heart and tears to my eyes. February 14, 2018, will always be remembered because it is part of my history. I will shed tears, and that is okay. But instead of avoiding the pain, I will remember it, sit with it, and move on. I will pray for the families and other victims of the shooting. I will pray for healing for everyone involved. And I will continue to display hearts in my window.

Friends, I did not arrive at this point in my journey alone. God gave me a trusted therapist who helped me process my emotions. She lives in our community and understands the dynamics of the shooting within our community, and she provided a safe place for me to process the shooting.

Friends, if you find yourself avoiding emotions or trauma, ask God to help you find a trusted therapist to help you. Change is a scary process, but trust me, change is worth making.

Much love to all of you! May God’s love surround you and penetrate your soul so you can spread it to others that God brings to your journey.

On my first Christmas away from my family, I was excited to create my very own Christmas memories. My folks had given me an old artificial tree and decorations, so my apartment was looking and feeling very festive. My coworkers had planned a potluck Christmas breakfast at work, and I was excited to attend. I heard a deafening boom that shook the house and ran out of my room in fear as Igot ready that morning. Thinking it was just lightning and thunder from the overnight storm, I went back to getting ready and prepared to leave for breakfast. 

As I walked out the front door of my two-flat apartment house, I discovered snow-covered tree branches blocking the front steps. I could not even walk down the steps to see what had happened.  I called the landlord who lived in the apartment below to tell him about the branches.

When the sun came out, we could see the full extent of the situation. The loud boom that I thought was thunder was the tree across the street from my apartment house cracking apart, with the main portion of the tree trunk landing smack square on the roof of my brand new car. The rest of the day was filled with hearing chainsaws as the city removed the tree from my car and the street. By the time everything was removed, I saw my pitiful car. The roof was smashed entirely, and all the windows and doors were blown out. 

At the end of the day, I was emotionally exhausted. My roommate made some tea, and we sat in the dark, sipping tea and admiring the lighted Christmas tree I had decorated. I just felt relaxed when the tree started to lean forward, and then without warning, it fell utterly face forward onto the floor. We both sat there stunned as if it was a scene from a movie. My roommate started to laugh. I guess this was the day for ‘falling trees”. What were the odds of two trees falling in one day to mess up my first Christmas on my own?

Life is full of interrupted and failed plans. Who better to remind us of this than Mary and Joseph. The engagement didn’t go as planned. The birth didn’t go as planned. And certainly, the next few years didn’t go as planned as they moved from country to country trying to keep their son alive. But the story of their failed plans wasn’t a disaster because God had a different plan which required them to trust Him.

When I look back at my interrupted plans that Christmas, I am reminded of how God worked everything out for my good and set me on a path of trusting Him with my life, just as He did with Mary and Joseph. And I learned to decorate the whole Christmas tree instead of just the front – no more falling Christmas trees!

As we celebrate Jesus’ birth, friends, let’s remember how much His parents trusted God with their interrupted plans. Just think what God can do with your interrupted plans.

Merry Christmas!

The Small Town Girl

Becky Senior photo 1984 vs. Son Senior photo 2021

With my son turning eighteen, my thoughts went back to 1984 when I turned eighteen.

The difference between life in 1984 and 2021 is huge.

In 1984 people still drove stick shift cars, left home without a cell phone, and didn’t care if there was Wi-Fi available at their destination. As an 18-year-old, I would leave for high school at 7:30 a.m. and sometimes not make it back home until 11 p.m. if I had an away volleyball game. My parents considered no phone calls meant that I was where I was supposed to be and safe. If I wanted to contact a friend or schoolmate, I had to talk in person and make plans or use the phone. Personal computers or printers did not exist, so it was all done by hand if I needed to send an invitation or a thank you. If you wanted to apply for a job, you needed to fill out an application by hand at the place of employment. If you wanted to grocery shop, dine out, or work, you needed to leave your house. At eighteen, I had the world figured out, and I was sure I knew quite a bit about life.

Fast forward to 2021, and Wi-Fi is everything! If my son didn’t have a computer and Wi-Fi, attending school would be extremely difficult. Books, assignments, and communication with teachers are all online and only accessible through Wi-Fi. Cell phones are necessities in high school. No one uses a phone to make plans – it’s all through texts or social media – even with some teachers. With technology, parents can track every move of their child or teen. A couple of clicks on an app, and a parent can pinpoint exactly where their child is. Applying to jobs, colleges, or volunteering is all online – there are no more applications to be filled out by hand. With a couple of clicks, groceries are delivered, restaurant food is delivered, and work is often done at home. New jobs are available that were never even thought of in 1984, and new careers are being created as new technology is created.

But some things are still the same.

Turning eighteen means the end of public schooling and the beginning of adult life. It means discovering what path you want to take next and the fear of the unknown. What if you make a mistake, change your mind, or fail at the path you choose? Or there isn’t a choice, and you get what life defaulted to you? Just like in 1984, or any year, some 18-year-olds confidently know the path they have chosen and set out to complete their goals. But, on the other hand, some 18-year-olds don’t know their long-term goal but decide to take the next step on their path to discovering what the next step will be after that step.

Whatever path any 18-year-old chooses – even if they are confident – can be challenging.

At eighteen, I chose to go to Cedarville College (University), a small Christian college. I had no idea about a major, so my parents suggested something practical, a secretarial degree. I faced loneliness, homesickness, and challenges during college, but I knew I was where God wanted me to be. After I graduated, I didn’t know the next step. I knew what I didn’t want, but I had no idea what was next. But God did.

Fast forward, and now I am living in South Florida, sitting at a Panera writing a blog post. How did I get here? Kicking and screaming at times – but ultimately accepting that this was the next step in God’s plan for me. As I look back, I can definitely see I’m where I am supposed to be.

Friends, are you contemplating what the next step in your life is? Our family is in transition, and each of us is contemplating our next step. Unfortunately, we don’t have a magic ball telling us the future. But, we DO have a relationship with God, who prompts us and puts opportunities and ideas to lead us to know the next step.

Blessings to you, my friends!

The Small Town Girl

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A melon has three layers: the hard shell, the sweet fruit, and the messy, gooey seeds. In order to taste the sweetness of the fruit, the shell needs to be cut and the seeds need to be scooped out. The same goes for the heart. In order to taste the sweetness, you need to crack open the shell and deal with the messiness that resides inside.

When I walked into my therapist’s office, she was ready for
me.

Over the last eight months together I talked about
everything but the shooting. Whenever she asked about the shooting I told her I
wasn’t ready to process it yet. She knew this day would eventually come. She
had anticipated it. The day my anger shell would crack and the grief of the
shooting would come out.

I sat down and looked at her.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Surprisingly better,” I replied.

“What are you feeling?” she asked.

“I feel betrayed,” I answered. “We all trusted them to keep
our kids safe and they didn’t. School is supposed to be safe. I sent my child
to school and I assumed he was safe. We all trusted the sheriff department to
protect our kids and now those kids are dead and the rest of our kids will
never be the same. They took an oath to serve and protect and they didn’t
protect our kids that day. I trusted them with my son -my son who is an ACTUAL
gift to me. We all trusted them! How could they let this happen? Why didn’t
they have a better plan? Why didn’t they follow up on the warnings? Why didn’t
they have videos that worked in real time? Why didn’t they run into the
building like the unarmed teachers? They could have stopped the shooting or at
least they could have died trying to stop him. That’s what the dead teachers
did. The teachers without a gun ran into the school and got kids out of the
building to safety!”

My tears started welling up again and she shook her head in
agreement with me as she held back her own tears. My tears were filled with
sadness instead of the anger I carried for so long.

The shell finally broke and it was a relief to put words to
the anger I had been carrying.

Betrayal, hurt, and distrust would describe the anger within
the majority of our community and the anger that stirred in my heart. But my
anger wasn’t just about the shooting. It was the culmination of the move, my
publisher, the ‘me too’ movement, my community, and the pastor at our former
church. And once I was able to name what I was feeling, the wind in my anger
storm died down.

Friends, this post was very difficult to write. I’ve written it, edited it, deleted it, and re written it several times. I thought about just ending the series with the last post. But that wouldn’t tell you my whole anger journey. I wanted to tell you so much more about what went horribly wrong that day and why we all feel betrayed. But, it would be too much and that is not what I want for this post.

What I want you to understand is that underneath my anger shell was a bucket load of emotions I needed to recognize and process. For several months I didn’t think I had a right to process the trauma of the shooting. I thought I wasn’t effected by the trauma because my son came home that night. However, everyone’s impact of the trauma is different from another person’s impact, but everyone has a right to process the trauma of the shooting in his or her own way.

My therapist didn’t force me to deal with the anger. She asked and then waited until I was ready. And when my anger shell broke, she helped me pick up the pieces.

Below is a quote which brings healing to my soul.

Anger that is
associated with trauma is an indication of melting or thawing. It is a positive
sign that the energy trapped during the traumatic experience is trying to find
a way to be expressed, ultimately resolving itself. It is also a positive sign
that one’s sense of self that was damaged during the trauma is growing back.

Check back next week and I’ll share about how I’m living now as a result of the trauma. It’s a new way of looking at, and living, life.

Blessings to you my friend!

The Small Town Girl

(Part 4 in the Anger Journey)

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Triggers can be anything. An act or event that serves as a stimulus and initiates or precipitates a reaction or series of reactions, either emotional and/or physical.* We all subconsciously have them whether we know it or not and whether we like it or not.

Knowing my disdain for the Broward Sheriff’s department and their involvement before, during, and after the shooting, anytime I saw anything related to the department on the news, it acted as a trigger to my anger. After the shooting, many of the deputies who initially responded and did not enter the campus, resigned and went quietly away. They followed procedure but they knew their actions and lack of training for a school shooting angered our community. However, the two individuals who were at the forefront of the response, championed for their jobs and their retirement pension and benefits. They were front and center of the media with the majority of parents and the Parkland community calling for their resignation. They held to the belief that they were following procedure. A procedure that allowed the shooter to enter the school campus, go into a building and murder 17 people, wound 17 people, and traumatize not only the people in the building but also those who were on campus and a whole community within 6 minutes.

The physical distance of Stoneman Douglas High School between Parkland and its neighboring community, Coral Springs, it about 100 yards. The school is right on the border of the two communities and the two different law enforcement agencies. Parkland, and Stoneman Douglas High School, is the jurisdiction of the Broward Sheriff’s department. Coral Springs is under the jurisdiction of Coral Springs Police Department. These are two very different law enforcement agencies. The response of the Coral Springs Police Department was vastly different then the Broward Sheriff’s department. Parkland was a sleepy little bedroom community with little to no crime, except for speeding, so the deputies assigned to Parkland are usually retired police officers to help with school zone traffic, monitor schools, or to write tickets for speeding. Coral Springs is a much bigger city with much more crime. Their police officers are well trained, well prepared, and very responsive. They are the type of law enforcement who are prepared and take action. And they took action on February 14. The majority of the Parkland community was calling to have Coral Springs Police Department to protect our students instead of the Broward Sheriff’s department.

By the time our students went back to school, the governor, Rick Scott, had called for the Florida State Police to come and protect our school. When we dropped off our student in the morning, we were met with fit, uniformed, sharp, and ready FSP officers. Just the sight of them was impressive and reassuring. And a couple of weeks later, we saw a new type of Broward Sheriff deputy, young, fit, alert and armed.

However, every day we saw and heard about the
two individuals who were fighting for their jobs and their pensions. As soon as
Florida elected a new governor, Ron DeSantis, the sheriff was removed from his
position and a new interim sheriff was put in his place. The community breathed
a sigh of relief.

I would love to tell you that the sheriff quietly went away, sought mental health help, established a fund to help victims, and worked to better school safety on a national level. But that did not happen. Instead he squeezed his way into hospital rooms of the wounded victims, took photos, without parental consent, and used these photos as publicity because he wanted to get his job back. He later announced that he was going to start his campaign to run for sheriff.

The victims’ families and parents of Stoneman Douglas students could not believe the audacity of the sheriff who was know suing the governor and campaigning for his old job.

My life started getting into a new routine
with my new job and my student was on summer break. My anger storm was bubbling
underneath and while I knew I had to address the anger at some point with my
counselor, I just wasn’t ready and I didn’t know when I’d be ready.

I watched the news before heading to work one particular morning and I saw the sheriff on television that morning. I just wished he would go away. He was a trigger to me of the horrific shooting on February 14. I shut off the news and went to work but the anger followed me. After class my mind was still focused on my disdain for the Broward County Sheriff department when I saw a Palm Beach County Sheriff’s car pass in front of me.

All of a sudden hot tears formed in my eyes as I thought, “If only we moved to Palm Beach County instead of Broward County! My kid would have never been at Stoneman and if there was a shooting the Palm Beach deputies would have run into the building with their guns drawn!”

As I turned and started driving, I heard myself let out gut wrenching sounds as I drove. Without realizing, I passed the deputy and realized my speed. I quickly changed lanes to pull over to compose myself and then saw the right lights behind me. I finished pulling over.

The Palm Beach County Sheriff deputy walked to my passenger window and I rolled it down.

“I’m sorry officer. I’m very emotional right now and I didn’t realize my speed,” I said as I pulled out my license with my shaking hand.

“I didn’t pull you over for speed. I pulled over because you didn’t signal when you changed lanes so quickly,” he replied.

By this time I was heaving sobs and tears
were rolling down my face. And the officer asked if I was alright.

“I’m sorry. I’m a parent of a Stoneman Douglas student and when I saw your car all I could think was that you would have run into the building to help those kids and to stop the shooter. They didn’t run in! The Broward deputies didn’t run in!”

“Ma’am, was your student a victim?” he asked.

“No, he was in locked in room in the building
facing the 1200 building. He heard the shots and screams.” By this time the
officer was leaning into my car. I took his hand and held it.

I looked into his eyes and asked, “You would have run into the building right?”

“Yes mam. I would have run into the building no matter what protocol was in place. I would have gone in there to rescue kids and kill the shooter,” he replied looking into my eyes.

I quietly whispered, “Thank you,” as we held hands.

“Ma’am, are you going to be okay,” he asked as we withdrew our hands.

“Yes, I’m headed to my counselor’s office for my weekly appointment and she’ll know what to do. I’ll drink some water from my bottle, compose myself and I’m good to drive.”

“Okay. I’m not going to give you a ticket today but please drive careful and remember to use your signal when changing lanes.” He paused, then continued, “Ma’am, I’m sorry you and your family were part of that awful experience.”

Before pulling back into traffic, I texted my counselor to let her know what happened and to be prepared when I arrived.

Come back next week and I’ll share what my counselor and I discovered as we peeled back the layers to find the root of my anger.

Friends, triggers are real and can take you right back to the place of the trauma or event. The five senses – sight, smell, sound, taste, touch – all play into triggers. Some responses are great but other responses aren’t. Pay attention to what evokes a strong emotional response in you. Could it be a trigger to something bigger or an underlying emotion? It’s worth investigating.

Blessings to you my friends,

The Small Town Girl

*To read additional information about triggers, click here https://www.therelationshipprotocol.com/blog/what-are-emotional-triggers

So, why was I so angry?

Over the course of 6 months unusual events happened which shook me to my core. If you know me, I have a high tolerance level for stress. Things happen daily which would anger or stress most people but I take them in stride. But when several events rock you to your core, it’s a deeper level of anger. And when you are at a deep level of anger, life events that only brought on an appropriate level of anger, become huge.

The years leading up to 2018 were pretty life changing. After two years of talking with Mr. Small Town about moving to South Florida and me telling both him, and God, emphatically “NO!”, it was crystal clear God wanted us in South Florida in 2015. When I finally said yes the move, it was fast, quick, and immediate.

Now, just because God asks and you obey does NOT mean
everything will be all smooth and wonderful. God knew what he was doing when
our Illinois home quickly sold & we found and purchased our home in South
Florida. He knows each one of us in the Small Town Family very, very well. And,
he knew how each one of us would react – even though we didn’t know. Change is
NOT something the Small Town Family does well. We lived in the same house for
22 years. It was the house where we started our marriage and the only house our
son ever knew. And, if we had rented it or it was still on the market, we would
have moved back in a heartbeat during the first year! But, we knew South
Florida was where God wanted us to be for this next chapter of life and in the
difficult moments, we clung to that truth. Did I mention how much God knows
each member of the Small Town Family?

According to one list selling or buying a house or moving is a top stressor in life.* Add in moving across the country to an eye opening culture change, reacting to the move and new surroundings, parenting a pre-pubescent son full of ever changing hormones can add a lot of stress. Oh, and then there’s writing a vulnerable memoir as a first time author and publishing it. But, we were managing together as a family. It was not pretty and, according to some outsiders, we weren’t doing it well. Over time those outside relationships became broken and strained. Our little family was in the middle of God writing this chapter and we really didn’t know how it would turn out. We sought God. We sought help. And we pulled in together as a family.

My book, Faithful: An Unexpected Journey to Motherhood was finally published and released in May 2017. I had no idea what a book launch entailed. I was just excited and shocked about seeing my words in print! About one year after I released the book, I watched other authors launch books and wondered why my publisher never suggested anything strategically to me about launching my book. The ‘would have, could have, should have’ enveloped me and held a tight grip on me. Neither did I expect the old shame to appear that came from telling my story. I heard comments like, “Oh, your book is about infertility. That’s not for me but I’ll give it to my infertile friend because she needs it. She’s in such a state of despair. I’m sure it will help her.” Or, “It’s all about infertility and adoption. That’s the market and brand for you.” Before I knew it, I was right back to being “the fragile, heartbroken, desperate infertile girl who people whispered about and tiptoed around”. I’m sure people did not realize how those words would affect me. I sure didn’t expect it. I was a completely different person at the time of the writing and publishing the book. Infertility was part of my story, not the whole story. It was a few chapters of the story in the middle, but not at the end. The real story was in the middle of how faithful I was to the process God was writing for my story and how faithful God was to me. But, that did not fit in the marketing of the book. Because of these words and my reactions to them, I wanted to run and hide under the covers of my bed. I had just poured out my story in a vulnerable point of view and I had not anticipated how I would react to the public, my publisher, or myself. (A huge thank you to my readers who understood the heart of my story and supported me and my book!!!)

Moving into 2018, our son made it through middle school and was now in a high school of 3,300 kids from all different backgrounds, cultures, languages, and religions. To put it into perspective, his high school is bigger than either town where Mr. Small Town or I had grown up. The campus is not just one big building but a compound of buildings where kids walk back and forth between buildings for classes. There are no lockers to put books or lunch in. Everything you need is in your backpack. Textbooks are left in the classroom and accessible online. It feels more like a small college campus. Our son was having some difficulties but he was managing it as a 14 year old.

For me, I had small relationship conflict in January.
Instead of letting the other individual manipulate me into thinking the
conflict was my entire fault, I stood up for myself and put boundaries in
place. They didn’t like my response and the relationship ended.

February 14 – The shooting happened at Stoneman Douglas High School. Initially we were all in shock, until the facts of what happened that day was published. The shooting could have been prevented had the authorities done their jobs properly.

Seventeen victims would have lived and they would be living their lives with their family. Seventeen other victims who have physical and life altering injuries would be living life to its fullest. The students who witnessed their classmates and teachers brutally shot and killed while seated or standing next to them would not have to carry the traumatizing event playing over and over in their minds. The majority of the 14 year old students and high school students on campus that day who thought they were safe at school now do not feel safe in the majority of places. They assumed they were safe when they went to school that day but they don’t make that assumption any more.

Finding out the shooter had been targeted as a threat, reported to the FBI months before, seen on campus by security personnel and nothing done – angered everyone in my community. I’m not talking light anger. This was full on ANGER with capital letters. Knowing that the only law enforcement on campus that day, who had a gun, did NOT run towards the gun fire or the building to intercept the shooter but stood OUTSIDE the building setting up a perimeter while unarmed teachers ran into the building to protect and help students and intercept the shooter – ANGER! Or hearing that the sheriff changed the wording from ‘must’ run into the building to ‘shall’ run into the building during an active shooting – ANGER! Finding out that the video feed from inside the building was on a 20 minute delay which meant the shooting was over and the shooter was off campus by the time they saw the video, the 911 emergency system that students inside the building called was inadequate in alerting law enforcement, and cell phone coverage and communications between commanding officers and emergency personnel did not work – ANGER!!! Much of the parents’ anger was directed to the sheriff’s department and its deputies. Parkland does not have its own police department. Parkland pays the Broward Sheriff’s department to provide protection for our community and schools. And they failed.

Every time I saw a sheriff deputy or a vehicle of the Broward County sheriff’s department, I was filled with rage. I had no respect for them. They had become the bumbling ‘Barney Fife’ of sheriffs to me.

In May I traveled to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina to join my publisher for a book promo event at the “Women of Joy” conferences. It was extremely difficult to leave Parkland. The rest of the world had moved on and the shooting was now part of a bigger movement. As parents, we still had to send our kids back to school. Each time I passed the building all I could hear were the screams of the victims, the chaos of fire alarms going off and students scrambling to get inside of a classroom as teachers and students tried to assist the wounded and dying.  My heart sank as I heard stories that SWAT officers told 14 year olds not to look down and step over shattered and bloodied victims. I was broken and wrung out emotionally and physically as I read and heard stories of the shooting. I didn’t want to leave my family. But God surrounded me with women and strangers to help me get ready for the trip. He prepared strangers to greet me with warmth and love and giving me the energy to get through the weekend. All the expectations I had for the weekend flew out the window because God knew what I needed and He met those needs.

A few months later in July, the ‘Me Too’ movement gained momentum. I worked in the business world for years so I was familiar with what happens in offices. Early in my work experience, other secretaries would warn me about certain bosses. But when I found out about a ‘Me Too’ cover up within many Christian writer conferences, I got angry. Male agents and speakers had been targeting female writers at conferences to meet one on one with them to give mentoring opportunities and agent contacts while sexually preying on them. Several female writers had alerted conference organizers to their experiences but the conference organizers, many who were females themselves, overlooked the actions and invited those same male speakers back year after year because they brought in big attendance numbers. The accusations and denials were so damaging. My head was spinning when I found out details. As I read and watched the actions and reactions of some of the best Christian writers and conferences who had influenced me to write, my disillusionment of the writing and publishing world grew and everything I knew about writing vanished from my soul.

The final straw in my anger basket came as another result of the “MeToo” movement. Over the course of 5-6 months, the lead pastor of our former church was publicly called out for actions he did almost 30 years ago. The accusations were brought about by a group of people who believed he had not changed, had not publicly took accountability, and was carrying out the same pattern of behavior. It was a complete mess in every way possible! Dave and I knew the individual was not perfect. He and his wife had detailed how they probably should not have gotten married because they were not a great fit. In fact, they felt so strongly about helping people pick a marriage partner who was suited for them, they wrote a book about it and dedicated a whole marriage ministry to help. They were open about how difficult things were in their marriage, starting the church, going through therapy, and admitting their shortcomings as human beings. We knew the pastor was not an easy individual but a hard driving perfectionist who ran a tight ship and demanded perfection. But this revelation shook us to our core. Because this individual’s leadership of the church, the Small Town Family was not only formed but changed. We served and grew spiritually from this individual’s teaching of the Bible. Saying all of this was a mess would be an understatement.

Having all of this on my emotion plate, not to mention other events like the 2016 Presidential elections and strong views on both sides, immigration, etc., multiplied. My anger was churning and bubbling underneath getting ready to explode. And when it did, there was no stopping it.

Come back next week and I’ll tell you all about the explosion. You won’t want to miss the story of the explosion.

Friends, if you find yourself in the middle of an anger storm, check to see what life changes or experiences you’ve had in the last five years. It might give you some insight about why you are angry. For some of you reading this, change is easy for you and you haven’t found your life changing much in the last five years. For others reading this, your life has changed so much that you think my life is a piece of cake compared to yours! Either way, please know I only write because I’m a process oriented, observational writer. And God has asked me to share with you what He is teaching me.

Blessings to you my friends,

The Small Town Girl

* Check out this link to see top stressful life events stress scale. https://paindoctor.com/top-10-stressful-life-events-holmes-rahe-stress-scale/

Over the summer of 2018, I started seeing a trusted counselor. Yes! I believe in good cognitive behavioral therapy! I don’t go around talking about my problems, anger, or issues with girlfriends. I don’t run to my family for advice or comfort. I pour out my heart to God and I run to a trusted unbiased educated counselor who can see the whole picture, listen to my perspective about life events, and help me understand and process my reactions to life events in a more positive way. Our sessions are all one sided and I do not have any guilt of dumping my junk on her and I don’t feel like I need to listen and fix her problems. She is a cheerleader and coach who gives affirmations as well as challenges me without any shame or guilt.

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My counselor didn’t push me to peel back the layers of my anger. She
probed the issue by asking me questions and I responded, “Not yet.” She
affirmed my answers and waited patiently for when I was ready to talk about
what was underneath all of my anger.

I started taking more control of my interactions with people. I deal
with them in a healthier manner than before and I place boundaries with them in
order to keep myself emotionally healthy. It’s still a process but it has been
a game changer for me and my guys. I feel more confident in parenting, life,
and in my marriage.

I also started working part time. Never would I have ever imagined
teaching a fitness class but I am! I teach Aqua Fit at several locations within
a fitness club franchise. While I used to debate whether or not I would go to
exercise, now I go because I teach the class! Ha! The job has given me more
affirmation, community, joy, as well as a more healthy body and mind, than I
could have envisioned. Never underestimate the power of endorphins that comes
from exercise, routine, and positive personal interaction!

At the close of my fitness class as we take deep breaths to bring our
bodies back to normal rhythms of life. I play the song, “Let It Be”. As I
researched the words to this song, I discovered Paul McCarthy wrote it during a
troubled time in his life. He had a dream where his deceased mother, Mary, came
to him in a dream. She could see that her son Paul was troubled and she said to
him, ‘It’s going to be OK. Don’t worry. Let it be.’  He woke up with peace and started writing the
lyrics. *

Friends, as I share this journey with you, I want you to know how much God showed up. It wasn’t in a huge event but in the small nudges as I moved slowly forward in the process. God placed people and opportunities in my life and I said yes. He knew my heart, soul, and mind. In His wisdom, He knew exactly what I needed on this journey. And, He knows what you need on your journey. He is with you in the place where you find yourself even though you don’t understand it.

Let Him speak words of wisdom over you to bring you the healing that you
need, want, and crave.

Blessings to you my friends,

The Small Town Girl

“When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me,
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me,
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
Let it be, Let it be, Let it be, Let it be,
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.”

*https://www.songfacts.com/facts/the-beatles/let-it-be

The years 2018
and 2019 were difficult for me to process. And if you noticed, I didn’t post
many blog writings or share much on social media.  In fact, if you had been around me, I took a
step back from people.

Why? “Anger.”

Yup, and
it’s humbling to publicly admit.

I am a process oriented, intuitive writer who shares about how I interact with the world around me and my walk with God. But everything I wrote during those years reflected my anger. My editor (also known as Mr. Small Town) read through what I was writing. When he was done reading he announced, “You can’t post this. It’s too angry and offensive.” He was right. I couldn’t post it. Anger isn’t the “BRAND” of Small Town Girl Becky Graham’s blog!!!  If I posted what I was writing, how would my readers respond?

So I didn’t
write. In fact I didn’t do much interacting during this time. I stopped going
to places where people knew me as fun loving and engaging Becky. I didn’t want
to be around them and if I did, all I wanted to do was to spew anger on them
and tell them the truth about what I thought about them in cutting jabs! I
didn’t want to talk with anyone and I didn’t want anyone to talk with me.

People grew concerned. People started asking me questions. People started asking Mr. Small Town questions. “What’s wrong with Becky?” He didn’t have any answers. I didn’t have any answers. All I knew was that I wasn’t angry with or at God. I didn’t walk away from God. But the anger was so powerful that I became numb and couldn’t even tolerate being around people. And I couldn’t write. I was not ready to process everything that was underneath the anger; I didn’t even know what had made me so angry.

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The
beautiful thing during this time was Mr. Small Town. He didn’t quite understand
what was going on with me. But he just walked beside me supporting me, nudging
me, and encouraging me. He didn’t try to fix me.

Eventually
we started attending a large church where I felt safe to attend. One Saturday
night I decided to stay home and only Mr. Small Town and our son attended. The
guest speaker was Steven Furtick. When Mr. Small Town and our son arrived home
they couldn’t stop talking about the speaker’s message. Mr. Small Town walked
over to me and wrapped me up in his arms. He told me about the message, “It’s
okay to be right where you are. You’re in the middle of something and God’s
right there with you. And so are we.”

The
speaker’s message was about how God is right there with us even when we don’t
know what is going on inside of us. He relayed that God is okay with us being
in the numbing part of life where we don’t always understand. It was okay not
to have the answers and it was okay to just be where I was.

Friends, I
can’t tell you how much peace flooded my soul. God, through the speaker’s
message, gave me permission to be at the place of no answers, no movement, and
no comments. I didn’t have to hurry up and fix my anger problem. I didn’t need
to move forward in conquering it. I was free just knowing I could just be.

Are you in
the middle of something that you just don’t understand? Rest assured because
even though you don’t understand it, God does.

Come back
next week and I’ll share more of my anger journey with you and how God started
to peel back the layers to see what was really going on underneath all of the
anger. I promise, it’s a story you don’t want to miss.

Blessings to
you my dear friends,

The Small Town Girl

Click on the link below to watch the video of Steve Furtick’s message titled, “In the Middle” for the 20th anniversary of the Church by the Glades. (He starts speaking at minute 5:30 of the video)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2gZg9DJMcE

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Happy Monday morning! Quite a change in the Graham House this past week…we have NO internet access in our house!

WHAT?!? WHY?!?

It was NOT a conscious decision, but we are liking the effects of not having it. It’s like going back in time to the early 1990’s!

We’ve contacted the school and they are supporting our decision to unplug internet access, especially with the anniversary of the shooting coming up on Feb 14. (There are lots of videos that were taken by students and uploaded and there are so many debates and controversy surrounding the shooting we don’t need to see. We lived through it already.)

The teachers are printing out worksheets and Ryan will complete them with pencil and paper. And, he will be taught by an actual person instead of logging into Kahn Academy or watching on a screen.

It’s been a challenge on Dave and I as we both use the internet for work so we are finding creative ways to plug in. If we want to get on wifi, we need to plan and go to a place with free wifi. It’s intentional, not automatic. (Hello Starbucks and library!)

So…do you think you could last one day without
internet access in your home?

We’ve living proof you can do it.

p.s. Dave and I still have data on our phones but the cell signal at our house is weak and you don’t realize how much internet you use on your cell until it shows up on your data plan! YIKES