Delilah Dior Dominica
A woman's journey exploring her passion for Faith, fashion and travel.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Wasting Days Away

Hello from Canada! 

This trip has been a much needed break from reality. The hubs and I have spent days watching episode after episode of Mad Men curled up on the couch. Spending afternoons and evenings with nieces, nephews, brothers and sisters, parents, aunts and uncles, and great friends has been the lotion to our ashy knees- the Buckley's to our sinus infection, the chocolate to our pms...in other words, it has been the perfect solution. We are so thankful to have a place where everyone can come together and truly cherish the time we get to spend with his side of the family. 

Mornings with nothing on the agenda have led to wonderful quiet times and studies. I have been able to catch up on some church services led by one of my favorite pastors, Miles Macphereson. Miles is the pastor at The Rock Church in San Diego, but I have known him since I was a little girl running around my family's Chicago home. My parents are very fond of Miles and his wife and Miles often tells me "I met you when you were this big! (hand at mid thigh.) He has been a blessing to me ever since I was old enough to really understand how fantastic his method is. He preaches God's word in its truest form and never pretends to be anything he's not. No judgement, no stiff rules, no changing to please a large crowd- just plain Word. 

I scrolled through the message archives and was instantly drawn to the series 'Will I Am.' Aside from the fact that it instantly made me sing Boom Boom Pow in my head, the description led me no choice. I have been on a very public search for God's call on my life recently. I ask anyone and everyone when they felt a draw towards a certain thing- an undeniable call from our Father thad led them one way or the other. Some people had large eureka moments, while others were directed through His creation rather than His direct voice. After one morning with Part 1 of this series, I had a journal scribbled all over with drawings and notes in attempt to write down every thing he said and described. It was that good. 

One of the parts that spoke to me most (I have backspaced the answer about six times...there were too many parts that spoke to me most.) was the fact that every single part of our bodies is meant to be a living sacrifice to God. I had of course heard this in Sunday School and Church since day one, but hearing it broken down in a new way really made it new to me. I say on almost a daily basis that I don't know what the Lord has planned for my life. I don't know what I am supposed to do with my talents, and I don't know exactly which talent to develop. I let time pass me by wondering when He will direct me to my Yellow Brick Road of His perfect will. I am terrified of making a mistake and have vivid visions of myself ten years from now having chosen the wrong path- crying in an empty bathtub, mascara running, with a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream. If only to avoid that scene alone- I refuse to mess up! 

I have always been constantly aware of how I measured up. Both fortunately and unfortunately, I know all of my faults at all times. 

Psalm 119: 9-11 has a perfect remedy. 


9 How can a young man keep his way pure? 

By living according to your word. 

10 I seek you with all my heart; 

do not let me stray from your commands. 

11 I have hidden your word in my heart 

that I might not sin against you. 


How beautiful is that? I mean how perfect? 'How can I cleanse my way? How can I stay pure and make sure I'm working according to his purpose?' LIVE BY HIS WORD! Sometimes, when it's just that simple, it makes me nervous. Because that means the ball is completely in my court. I can't lean on the crutch of "Lord, I can't hear you, I don't know what you want me to do so I'm just gonna chill til' I hear you" because His word tells us exactly what to do. We just need to obey. Simply. 

If I am living by His word, I am being His good and faithful servant. I may not know if I am supposed to be an artist or a fashion journalist- a shoe designer or personal stylist- an editor or writer...but I do know if I keep strolling down the path of obedience, I will absolutely run into the Yellow Brick Road in His perfect timing. 


















Friday, January 6, 2012

Little Victories

My goodness, I love my husband.

And the Lord is so good for knowing 21 years age when he was forming me in my momma's tummy that 21 years later I'd be sitting on the couch in a bathrobe smiling and thinking, "My goodness, I love my husband."

I had two MRI's in a row yesterday. This is nothing gasp worthy, but I would like to declare it as a little victory. I am terrified of small spaces, and I only say terrified because I'm not confident in my SAT vocabulary enough to think of a more powerful word. Literally, hands shaking, heart dropping, throat clenching terrified. For any of you who haven't gotten an MRI- don't. Because the machine lays an inch from your face and yells at you for an hour while you can't move. And if you move (because, let's say, you're so nervous you can't lay still...or something...) then you have to do that segment again. It is an un-win-able game I tell you. 


This photo is so fake its pathetic! Everyone is all smiley and cozy it's sickening, and the hole of the machine is at least twice as large as any one I've ever seen, but this should give you an idea. 

I have gotten 5 MRIs before in my little lifetime, and although I don't have children I think it is somewhat like that. Not the pain of being set on fire part- the part that "once it's over, you forget exactly what the pain is like. Otherwise, you wouldn't be able to do it again." For some reason though-this one was a little more unapproachable than the ones before. They give you a little clicker in your hand to squeeze incase of emergency so they can run back in the room and take you out of the machine. 'Emergency' is clearly subjective, because I pressed it three times before I ever got fully into the machine. After the third time checking on me in less than two minutes, a clearly irritated doctor said 'Maybe you're going to have to come back after you have some Xanax for the anxiety.'  

The word 'anxiety' worked as a much needed trigger to Oj and my Team Atogwe verse a few months ago: 

'Do not be anxious for anything, but in every situation by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." 
Phil. 4:6

I sat up straight, said "Let's do this" very dramatically, and repeated the verse for an entire hour. 
 This was an enormous triumph for me. Unfortunately-the yelling machine led to a full blown migraine today. I was sure it would be gone by date night, but when 5 o'clock rolled around and I still was walking around in an eye mask, I turned to a bath as my solution. An almost-hot bath with vanilla oatmeal oil fixes everything. 

Except a migraine. 

So having a normal head was left up to prayer and time- but Oj's two week long wait to see "Sherlock Holmes" would have to keep on waiting. So now he is spending date night rubbing my neck, singing Colbie Callait (with not a hint of shame) and running errands to pick up corn-free dinner. 

He is the very best, and I am so thankful that even a migraine can't keep us down on date night.

Take that MRI!