Ok, so I had a moment this morning. I could say an "ah ha" moment, but I won't. I tend to have a very odd opinion of the "ah ha" moment. I hear people say they have them and I find myself feeling sorry for them. I have those moments everyday. The moment when you learn something big that you previously hadn't known and possibly even big enough to be life altering. My opinion is that if you aren't having those moments everyday, then your life has grown stagnant and you aren't learning something new each day.
Oh boy...let me not get sidetracked!
I believe I have said this before, but it deserves repeating. Music is a powerful resource in my life. That's the simplest way to say it.
On several occasions, friends have told me the song "Blessings" by Laura Story reminded them of me. One friend was even so sweet as to email me the lyrics. Maybe the lines in the chorus "What if a thousand sleepless nights, are what it takes to know you're near?" reminds them of me. Maybe it is the lines "What if trials of this life, are Your mercies in disguise?" I suppose either could be possible since most people who know me could easily apply those lines to me.
The line least impactful was "What if your healing comes through tears?" It would be a rarity for anyone to have seen me in tears. From 1993 - 2007, I think I could count on one hand the number of times I had cried. I certainly couldn't see anyway this line was true.
I love the song and listen to it often. Today was a completely different experience. It was as if the melody was playing, but the only line I heard was "What if your healing comes through tears?" Long after the song was over, the line was dancing over every other thought I was having. Why was this one line blaring through my internal megaphones?
My life was lived up until August 2007 as if my past did not exist. On August 4th, I watched my mom humiliate my niece in front of me by showing me her tiny and severely bruised legs. My niece cowered down in shame while my mom laughed hysterically. The dam which safely held my past at bay abruptly broke.
I began to watch, feel and hear a life playing in front of me that was horrific. The stories were unreal and the little girl in them was me. I knew the girl was me because this horror show felt real, as if I were living it just as it was happening. I would much later learn what I was experiencing were flashbacks. Flashbacks are a very real part of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD for short.
Not only did my dam break which contained my past, my dry as desert eyes became flowing rivers. I cried for days. Up to that point in my life, I don't think I had any memory of ever crying this much. I would cry all day, all night, and wake up crying.
Just three days after the dam broke, I headed to the church counselor believing she would get these tears to stop and I'd be on my way back to a blissfully ignorant life where the past didn't exist again. That didn't happen!!!
"What if your healing comes through tears?"
The dam burst so the tears came. The tears came so I began a journey. The journey came so I could begin to heal. Had the tears not come, I might have missed the journey to healing. And there was my moment. My tears hadn't brought the healing, but instead brought me to the starting point of healing. That, my friends, is a moment of clarity and understand; learning and worth remembering.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Uh Cussin' N' Swearin' (it's not what you think)
Lately, I have been thinking about some of the stranger and least harmful people in my past. When I think about them, I often wonder why they crossed my path as well as think about the impact they had on me.
When I worked with severely disabled adults, I had the priveledge of getting to know a man named Albert. Albert was a client and a very unique one at that.
Albert was incredibly intelligent and brutally honest. He was about 25 years older than me, but was child-like in nearly every area of life. It was never hard to pick Albert out of a crowd. He was over 6 foot tall and always wore his pants hiked up about mid chest. We tried to get him to wear pants at waist level, but that wasn't his comfort level. It didn't look comfortable to me, but who am I to judge, right?
When Albert would talk, he curled his hands and held them close to his chest or about belt buckle high. He spoke super fast, almost too fast for the average person to understand. Albert had this wierd and funny way of adding to everyday words or mashing words together that usually included a made up word. For instance, he would add the word "aukins" to many of his phrases.
If you asked Albert what his name was (which was actually Albert Kimzey), he would say "Albert KrimeyZyem Aukins." If you asked him what he did that day, he would say "Watched DavidZYem Uh Cussin' N' Swearin' an' actin' uh baden." If I asked him what he wanted for dinner he would say, "Sketti and cheese aukins Moca aukins." It looks funny, but I always understood every word.
At this job, I worked with men who were blind, deaf, had severe behavior disorders and had HIV, Hepatitis and other communicable diseases. Looking back, I can honestly say that Albert was a joy to work with at this job. He was patient, rarely had behavioral problems and was the most compliant client.
It has taken many years, but I think I understand why Albert crossed my path. With all the turmoil at that job, I believe working with Albert helped soften my heart toward people with disabilities.
I had lots of reasons to dislike people with disabilities given what that job put me through. I was pushed down a flight of stairs and broke my nose. I was chased down by a naked man and stabbed in the leg with a butter knife. I was bitten many times and exposed to lots of diseases...just to name a few. But knowing Albert kept me from disliking them and even allowed me to embrace them as people, caring deeply about how they were treated in society.
Now I finally get the big picture! My heart was prepared 17 years ago to accept myself. Being diagnosed with a somewhat uncommon mental disorder, I tend to believe I am different and in a less than human way. But when I remember Albert KrimeyZYem, I am reminded that a disability doesn't define me or somehow make me sub human. And a mental disorder should never preclude me from receiving love or acceptance.
I have no idea where Albert is today, but what he unknowingly taught me will live with me forever.
When I worked with severely disabled adults, I had the priveledge of getting to know a man named Albert. Albert was a client and a very unique one at that.
Albert was incredibly intelligent and brutally honest. He was about 25 years older than me, but was child-like in nearly every area of life. It was never hard to pick Albert out of a crowd. He was over 6 foot tall and always wore his pants hiked up about mid chest. We tried to get him to wear pants at waist level, but that wasn't his comfort level. It didn't look comfortable to me, but who am I to judge, right?
When Albert would talk, he curled his hands and held them close to his chest or about belt buckle high. He spoke super fast, almost too fast for the average person to understand. Albert had this wierd and funny way of adding to everyday words or mashing words together that usually included a made up word. For instance, he would add the word "aukins" to many of his phrases.
If you asked Albert what his name was (which was actually Albert Kimzey), he would say "Albert KrimeyZyem Aukins." If you asked him what he did that day, he would say "Watched DavidZYem Uh Cussin' N' Swearin' an' actin' uh baden." If I asked him what he wanted for dinner he would say, "Sketti and cheese aukins Moca aukins." It looks funny, but I always understood every word.
At this job, I worked with men who were blind, deaf, had severe behavior disorders and had HIV, Hepatitis and other communicable diseases. Looking back, I can honestly say that Albert was a joy to work with at this job. He was patient, rarely had behavioral problems and was the most compliant client.
It has taken many years, but I think I understand why Albert crossed my path. With all the turmoil at that job, I believe working with Albert helped soften my heart toward people with disabilities.
I had lots of reasons to dislike people with disabilities given what that job put me through. I was pushed down a flight of stairs and broke my nose. I was chased down by a naked man and stabbed in the leg with a butter knife. I was bitten many times and exposed to lots of diseases...just to name a few. But knowing Albert kept me from disliking them and even allowed me to embrace them as people, caring deeply about how they were treated in society.
Now I finally get the big picture! My heart was prepared 17 years ago to accept myself. Being diagnosed with a somewhat uncommon mental disorder, I tend to believe I am different and in a less than human way. But when I remember Albert KrimeyZYem, I am reminded that a disability doesn't define me or somehow make me sub human. And a mental disorder should never preclude me from receiving love or acceptance.
I have no idea where Albert is today, but what he unknowingly taught me will live with me forever.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Feet on the Floor, Song in My Head
There is only one thing I love more than waking up to snow on the ground...waking up with a song in my head. I especially love it when the song is one I love to sing as opposed to one of my husband's Ozzy tunes.
The past few months, the song I wake up with the most is Glorious Day by Casting Crowns. Keep in mind, I don't wake up to an alarm clock. Soooo....I would like to think those songs are planted in my head as a way to start my day off great in hopes it might stay that way.
When I start picking apart the song, Glorious Day, it's so easy to understand why it is so uplifting.
One day when Heaven was filled with His praises
One day when sin was as black as could be
Jesus came forth to be born of a Virgin
Dwelt among men, my example is He
What more could be said about these first lines? It had to be a glorious day. Another song writer once said how amazing it must have been, but it may have been so glorious that nobody could say a word.
Word became flesh and the light shined among us
His glory revealed
The idea of Jesus being fully man and people seeing God as man is so overwhelming. Can you imagine having stood next to Jesus? Even more overwhelming....can you imagine seeing those who ignored his glory or even shunned him and finally those who beat him?
Living He loved me, dying He saved me
And buried He carried my sins far away
Rising He justified freely forever
One day He's coming, oh, glorious day, oh, glorious day
The chorus is where I usually get stuck and stay. He loved me. He died to save me. Living He loved me, dying He saved me. That seems so simple, but so deep. One day He's coming again...how amazing that day will be.
For me and given my past, the idea that God loves me that much is more than I can understand. Yet, it's something I want hold onto and plant deep inside of me so that I never lose it.
This picture of His sacrifice is almost unbelievable in a human sense. Do you really know anyone who would honestly die to save you? Do you know anyone who would not only die to save you, but also die to save that man sitting in prison who has raped and beaten and killed? I don't! I'm not sure I would either. I like to think my husband would die to save me. I don't think I know one person who would die for that man in prison or my dad or that gun-toting thug who's about to rob a bank.
To me, this shows a love for us that is bigger and more concrete than any we could ever experience on earth.
There's so much more I could say about this one song. I'll save that for another day. Off to bed I go...hoping tomorrow morning will bring a beautiful song. Hoping that even if only for a moment, I will be be reminded that living He loves me and dying He saved me....oh glorious day!
The past few months, the song I wake up with the most is Glorious Day by Casting Crowns. Keep in mind, I don't wake up to an alarm clock. Soooo....I would like to think those songs are planted in my head as a way to start my day off great in hopes it might stay that way.
When I start picking apart the song, Glorious Day, it's so easy to understand why it is so uplifting.
One day when Heaven was filled with His praises
One day when sin was as black as could be
Jesus came forth to be born of a Virgin
Dwelt among men, my example is He
What more could be said about these first lines? It had to be a glorious day. Another song writer once said how amazing it must have been, but it may have been so glorious that nobody could say a word.
Word became flesh and the light shined among us
His glory revealed
The idea of Jesus being fully man and people seeing God as man is so overwhelming. Can you imagine having stood next to Jesus? Even more overwhelming....can you imagine seeing those who ignored his glory or even shunned him and finally those who beat him?
Living He loved me, dying He saved me
And buried He carried my sins far away
Rising He justified freely forever
One day He's coming, oh, glorious day, oh, glorious day
The chorus is where I usually get stuck and stay. He loved me. He died to save me. Living He loved me, dying He saved me. That seems so simple, but so deep. One day He's coming again...how amazing that day will be.
For me and given my past, the idea that God loves me that much is more than I can understand. Yet, it's something I want hold onto and plant deep inside of me so that I never lose it.
This picture of His sacrifice is almost unbelievable in a human sense. Do you really know anyone who would honestly die to save you? Do you know anyone who would not only die to save you, but also die to save that man sitting in prison who has raped and beaten and killed? I don't! I'm not sure I would either. I like to think my husband would die to save me. I don't think I know one person who would die for that man in prison or my dad or that gun-toting thug who's about to rob a bank.
To me, this shows a love for us that is bigger and more concrete than any we could ever experience on earth.
There's so much more I could say about this one song. I'll save that for another day. Off to bed I go...hoping tomorrow morning will bring a beautiful song. Hoping that even if only for a moment, I will be be reminded that living He loves me and dying He saved me....oh glorious day!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
When I Grow Up...
Growing up, I remember having two dreams of what I wanted to be. I wanted to be the mayor of our little town or a writer. I didn't have dreams about getting married and having lots of kids. I didn't have dreams of being a princess. I am sure that somehow made mayor or writer obvious choices for the non-a-typical kid.
The mayor thing obviously never worked out. I was very interested in politics very early in life. I watched Oliver North testify in hearings. I watched every Presidential address I could . I would privately critique the mayor of my small town on the decisions he made. By the time I was 16, I was sure I could do a much better job. This was probably the least rational thought I had at 16 and there are probably 2,500 people that are lucky this dream stayed a dream.
I did follow my writing dream for about eight years. My experience began my junior year in high school newspaper class. Without question, I excelled beyond what I thought capable. My senior year, I was Editor-in-Chief of the high school newspaper, on the yearbook staff and a photographer. That lead to the scholarship that would take me to community college. There I would spend a year as a sports editor and photographer with occasional chances to write feature stories and opinion columns. I was honored for a feature photograph during college.
During my senior year in high school and into my first year of college, I would work as a sport reporter for a local newspaper. I would travel with local teams, taking photos and writing. On Fridays, I would man the phones, taking stats, scores and quotes from local coaches during football and basketball seasons.
From 1993 to 1998, I would work as a sports reporter, photographer and typesetter for my hometown newspaper. During that time, I would also do freelance photography and reporting for several newspapers in my region.
During that stretch of time from 1993 to 1998, I worked a full time job at all times and usually a number of part time jobs in addition to the newspaper job. I'm not sure I can remember them all, but here we go:
* Caregiver in assisted living elderly home
* Support assistant for disable adults
* Dishwasher in nursing home kitchen
* Gas station attendant
* Teaching assistant for an autistic child and several other children 2nd to 5th grade
I don't think any of those jobs were quite as enjoyable as the newspaper jobs. I'm not sure if I learned that writing didn't pay well or I strayed from that love, but I got far, far away from it.
After moving to Lee's Summit, I worked for a month at a pediatric dentist before I began a job at a marketing company. I worked into management an independent telephone directory marketing company. From there, I went to the eye clinic where I would work for the next 10 years and wearing a long list of hats. Again...so far from the dreams I had as a child.
For the past year and a half, I have been volunteering in the church office. I suppose I haven't lost my desire or dream to write, I just live it out in the form of blogging.
I don't know what the future holds, but I know my resume holds a list of experiences that would qualify me for various jobs. While I don't think I ever want to work as a reporter again, I don't know that I will ever find any job which gives me the same type of gratification as writing and living out the dream I had as a child.
The mayor thing obviously never worked out. I was very interested in politics very early in life. I watched Oliver North testify in hearings. I watched every Presidential address I could . I would privately critique the mayor of my small town on the decisions he made. By the time I was 16, I was sure I could do a much better job. This was probably the least rational thought I had at 16 and there are probably 2,500 people that are lucky this dream stayed a dream.
I did follow my writing dream for about eight years. My experience began my junior year in high school newspaper class. Without question, I excelled beyond what I thought capable. My senior year, I was Editor-in-Chief of the high school newspaper, on the yearbook staff and a photographer. That lead to the scholarship that would take me to community college. There I would spend a year as a sports editor and photographer with occasional chances to write feature stories and opinion columns. I was honored for a feature photograph during college.
During my senior year in high school and into my first year of college, I would work as a sport reporter for a local newspaper. I would travel with local teams, taking photos and writing. On Fridays, I would man the phones, taking stats, scores and quotes from local coaches during football and basketball seasons.
From 1993 to 1998, I would work as a sports reporter, photographer and typesetter for my hometown newspaper. During that time, I would also do freelance photography and reporting for several newspapers in my region.
During that stretch of time from 1993 to 1998, I worked a full time job at all times and usually a number of part time jobs in addition to the newspaper job. I'm not sure I can remember them all, but here we go:
* Caregiver in assisted living elderly home
* Support assistant for disable adults
* Dishwasher in nursing home kitchen
* Gas station attendant
* Teaching assistant for an autistic child and several other children 2nd to 5th grade
I don't think any of those jobs were quite as enjoyable as the newspaper jobs. I'm not sure if I learned that writing didn't pay well or I strayed from that love, but I got far, far away from it.
After moving to Lee's Summit, I worked for a month at a pediatric dentist before I began a job at a marketing company. I worked into management an independent telephone directory marketing company. From there, I went to the eye clinic where I would work for the next 10 years and wearing a long list of hats. Again...so far from the dreams I had as a child.
For the past year and a half, I have been volunteering in the church office. I suppose I haven't lost my desire or dream to write, I just live it out in the form of blogging.
I don't know what the future holds, but I know my resume holds a list of experiences that would qualify me for various jobs. While I don't think I ever want to work as a reporter again, I don't know that I will ever find any job which gives me the same type of gratification as writing and living out the dream I had as a child.
Monday, September 12, 2011
From A Distance
Yes, a beautiful song which is way over used at funerals. But...that's not where I am going this time.
Last week, the oldest of my brothers turned 35 years old. As I often do, I try not to think about the day because of the pain it brings. That's how I tend to deal with all family birthdays, holidays or other significant events. It's not always a successful way to deal with it, but the one I try the most.
The truth is that the pain gets harder and harder each year. The truth is I miss my brothers, nieces, nephews and sister-in-law so much. The youngest of my nephews does not know who I am and I do not know him.
Over four years of distance from all of them has been necessary for my own health, but it's come with a huge price. Nothing could possibly make this pain less, not anything that would be good for me.
As I reflected on my brother's birthday last week, I made two observations. Without the past four years of growing, these observations would not have been possible.
The first is that the distance between us does not mean I cannot love them. I can hurt when I hurt, provided I know when that happens. I can rejoice when they do. And, I can love them deeply. Distance in miles and relationship does not dictate that I cannot love them still. I can even love them regardless of how they feel about me.
The second and most important observation I made was the reality of what heaven has to offer with respect to those family members. If each of them comes to a point in life where they choose to accept Christ, then the distance is only a wordly temporary.
That distance which is so painful now is only temporary during our time on earth. I began to grasp just how important their eternal life is to me. This idea that I they too could have eternal life with Christ has given me a new passion to pray for their salvation.
No birthday card, Christmas gift, or trinket I could send them in the mail could ever compare to the gift of salvation. So, I will be praying for that for each of them.
That doesn't take any of the pain away. It only means I have accepted that my pain over this is only a wordly temporary.
Last week, the oldest of my brothers turned 35 years old. As I often do, I try not to think about the day because of the pain it brings. That's how I tend to deal with all family birthdays, holidays or other significant events. It's not always a successful way to deal with it, but the one I try the most.
The truth is that the pain gets harder and harder each year. The truth is I miss my brothers, nieces, nephews and sister-in-law so much. The youngest of my nephews does not know who I am and I do not know him.
Over four years of distance from all of them has been necessary for my own health, but it's come with a huge price. Nothing could possibly make this pain less, not anything that would be good for me.
As I reflected on my brother's birthday last week, I made two observations. Without the past four years of growing, these observations would not have been possible.
The first is that the distance between us does not mean I cannot love them. I can hurt when I hurt, provided I know when that happens. I can rejoice when they do. And, I can love them deeply. Distance in miles and relationship does not dictate that I cannot love them still. I can even love them regardless of how they feel about me.
The second and most important observation I made was the reality of what heaven has to offer with respect to those family members. If each of them comes to a point in life where they choose to accept Christ, then the distance is only a wordly temporary.
That distance which is so painful now is only temporary during our time on earth. I began to grasp just how important their eternal life is to me. This idea that I they too could have eternal life with Christ has given me a new passion to pray for their salvation.
No birthday card, Christmas gift, or trinket I could send them in the mail could ever compare to the gift of salvation. So, I will be praying for that for each of them.
That doesn't take any of the pain away. It only means I have accepted that my pain over this is only a wordly temporary.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
10 Years Later
I have listened to others talk about where they were on September 11, 2001 with great emotion. I don't know that I remember that day with great emotion. Even though I was 26 years old and an adult, I don't think the emotion was overwhelming for me.
At a relatively new job, I heard a blurb on our little radio that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center. In a little bit of shock, I shared with my co-workers. An older lady told me not to worry about it because that had happened before and it wasn't that big of a deal. Not long after, I heard the music stop mid song and the announcer said another plane had hit the other building.
Now, finally, I was able to get the attention of my co-workers. I ran home, grabbed a small tv and came back to work. Most of our patients would cancel that day and we would watch on antenae the news all day long.
I suppose that most of the day was a blur. It is possible that there was emotion mixed in the blur. That night I went home to watch more tv. And more tv reporting. And more tv reporting. It was on every station on tv and radio. We were living and breathing to the beat of this surreal tragedy.
For a solid week, each night there was an overwhelming amount of information and even more speculation. Each tv channel featured a different reporter in tears. Late during the first night, a nearly voiceless Peter Jennings would finally strike a nerve in me. He said that we, Americans, needed hug our kids, parents and spouses and to tell them how much we loved them.
Weeks and maybe even a couple months had passed before the emotion finally struck. That emotion was fear. As I listened to reporters talk about the damage which could be done by an attack on nuclear plants, a fear I had only felt once before came over me.
There is a nuclear plant less than 50 miles from my hometown. An estimated 200 mile radius of that nuclear plant could be in danger if attacked or compromised. My fear, that someone was going to attack that nuclear plant putting my nieces and nephew in danger.
This attack on our country, more so the hatred of our country, had now taken on a very personal meaning to me. Only then did the impact of 9/11 hit me. I sat quietly beside Kent while he slept. That overwhelming fear finally took it's toll on me as well as my breath. This is the first anxiety attack I remember having.
To date, there has not been an attack on nuclear plants in the US. Could it happen? Absolutely! Do I fear it like I used to? No!
It was during this time in life that I learned just how possible it was to love someone so deeply that I could live in fear for them. I knew I loved my nieces and nephews, but I learned to love them even more. Of course now I live a different reality. God loves those children even more than I do. The only fear I have to live with for them is that they will never come to know God. But really....that is not a fear I have to live with either. Just like with me, if God wants them to know Him then He will soften their hearts too.
I find myself with more emotion today over the events of 9/11/01, but that's another day's post.
At a relatively new job, I heard a blurb on our little radio that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center. In a little bit of shock, I shared with my co-workers. An older lady told me not to worry about it because that had happened before and it wasn't that big of a deal. Not long after, I heard the music stop mid song and the announcer said another plane had hit the other building.
Now, finally, I was able to get the attention of my co-workers. I ran home, grabbed a small tv and came back to work. Most of our patients would cancel that day and we would watch on antenae the news all day long.
I suppose that most of the day was a blur. It is possible that there was emotion mixed in the blur. That night I went home to watch more tv. And more tv reporting. And more tv reporting. It was on every station on tv and radio. We were living and breathing to the beat of this surreal tragedy.
For a solid week, each night there was an overwhelming amount of information and even more speculation. Each tv channel featured a different reporter in tears. Late during the first night, a nearly voiceless Peter Jennings would finally strike a nerve in me. He said that we, Americans, needed hug our kids, parents and spouses and to tell them how much we loved them.
Weeks and maybe even a couple months had passed before the emotion finally struck. That emotion was fear. As I listened to reporters talk about the damage which could be done by an attack on nuclear plants, a fear I had only felt once before came over me.
There is a nuclear plant less than 50 miles from my hometown. An estimated 200 mile radius of that nuclear plant could be in danger if attacked or compromised. My fear, that someone was going to attack that nuclear plant putting my nieces and nephew in danger.
This attack on our country, more so the hatred of our country, had now taken on a very personal meaning to me. Only then did the impact of 9/11 hit me. I sat quietly beside Kent while he slept. That overwhelming fear finally took it's toll on me as well as my breath. This is the first anxiety attack I remember having.
To date, there has not been an attack on nuclear plants in the US. Could it happen? Absolutely! Do I fear it like I used to? No!
It was during this time in life that I learned just how possible it was to love someone so deeply that I could live in fear for them. I knew I loved my nieces and nephews, but I learned to love them even more. Of course now I live a different reality. God loves those children even more than I do. The only fear I have to live with for them is that they will never come to know God. But really....that is not a fear I have to live with either. Just like with me, if God wants them to know Him then He will soften their hearts too.
I find myself with more emotion today over the events of 9/11/01, but that's another day's post.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Good Grief
One of the things I do very well is hiding and suppressing all forms of emotion which could cause crying. But, I'm sitting here tonight unable to contain the tears. After spending the entire evening in the kitchen, I really had no reason for crying. Cooking and baking makes me happy, so the tears were unexpected.
Most of what is going on in my life is making me angry, not sad. What sadness in my life was so overwhelming that I could only cry?
The past couple weeks, I have been organizing meals for a couple having a baby and had spent the evening cooking for a couple who recently had a baby. I had filled out cards today for a couple friends who just had babies or are having babies. I get online tonight and see updated pictures of babies.
Babies! I have cried plenty because everyone around me seemed to be able to have babies. This was incredibly different.
Kent and I tried our first few years of marriage to have a baby and failed. As soon as we gave up, I found out I was pregnant with twins. At about 12 weeks, I lost the first baby with a spontaneous miscarriage. The second baby continued to grow and remain healthy. We knew the baby was a boy. I could feel our little miracle moving around and we were excited. We had bought a stroller, toy box, clothes, blankets and found a baby bed.
Our little baby was due just a month after our 3rd anniversary. At 23 weeks, I got very sick, not eating or drinking much for a week and thought I had a stomach bug. Kent was out of town and I was worried that my dehydration would not good for the baby. I headed to the hospital, thinking I would get fluids and meds and head back home.
The details are still a blur to me once I got to the hospital. What I do remember is the doctor saying he was so sorry and telling me that I should hold my baby boy just once. After several hours and losing my baby boy, I drove myself home.
My little boy, so tiny and lifeless in my arms, has remained a clear picture in my mind. I have hated the doctor who insisted I hold him and at times have been thankful he did. While we never decided on a name, I was fond of Tyler. That five minutes of saying hello and goodbye to my baby boy was the shortest and yet longest five minutes of my life. I love that baby boy in a way I cannot explain.
I'm not sure I really talked to anyone about what happened and certainly never felt any emotion over it. I think the only thing I felt was empty.
The following year, I would go through another familiar experience. I carried a baby girl for nearly 22 weeks. The pregnancy was very high risk and ended after taking a nasty fall down half our stairs. Again, I went through the loss alone while Kent was out of town. Again....no emotions and no talking about it.
Three more times during the past 10 years, I would go through similar experiences all at 10 weeks or less. No talking, no emotions. By then, it was completely routine. I never got my hopes up and ever held onto any hope of being a mother.
As I sit here, I know that overwhelming sense of sadness is the loss of each of those babies. Each tear I cry is for each "mommy" I'll never hear and for each lullaby I'll never get to sing. My heart is broken and I realized I have suffered great losses. Those weren't just things, those were my babies...my children...my hope of grandchildren...my legacy. I have suffered great loss and I am finally heartbroken.
I don't know why now I am finally feeling this loss. I have enough going on in my life that I don't need to have an additional thing to feel emotion over right now. I've asked many times tonight, "Really, God? Right now? Are you sure it has to be right now?"
I suppose there is no good time to grieve losses like this. Just as I suppose that there is nothing which helps this make sense. With no hope now of ever having a child, I find it even harder to understand why this is my store and my heart is broken.
Most of what is going on in my life is making me angry, not sad. What sadness in my life was so overwhelming that I could only cry?
The past couple weeks, I have been organizing meals for a couple having a baby and had spent the evening cooking for a couple who recently had a baby. I had filled out cards today for a couple friends who just had babies or are having babies. I get online tonight and see updated pictures of babies.
Babies! I have cried plenty because everyone around me seemed to be able to have babies. This was incredibly different.
Kent and I tried our first few years of marriage to have a baby and failed. As soon as we gave up, I found out I was pregnant with twins. At about 12 weeks, I lost the first baby with a spontaneous miscarriage. The second baby continued to grow and remain healthy. We knew the baby was a boy. I could feel our little miracle moving around and we were excited. We had bought a stroller, toy box, clothes, blankets and found a baby bed.
Our little baby was due just a month after our 3rd anniversary. At 23 weeks, I got very sick, not eating or drinking much for a week and thought I had a stomach bug. Kent was out of town and I was worried that my dehydration would not good for the baby. I headed to the hospital, thinking I would get fluids and meds and head back home.
The details are still a blur to me once I got to the hospital. What I do remember is the doctor saying he was so sorry and telling me that I should hold my baby boy just once. After several hours and losing my baby boy, I drove myself home.
My little boy, so tiny and lifeless in my arms, has remained a clear picture in my mind. I have hated the doctor who insisted I hold him and at times have been thankful he did. While we never decided on a name, I was fond of Tyler. That five minutes of saying hello and goodbye to my baby boy was the shortest and yet longest five minutes of my life. I love that baby boy in a way I cannot explain.
I'm not sure I really talked to anyone about what happened and certainly never felt any emotion over it. I think the only thing I felt was empty.
The following year, I would go through another familiar experience. I carried a baby girl for nearly 22 weeks. The pregnancy was very high risk and ended after taking a nasty fall down half our stairs. Again, I went through the loss alone while Kent was out of town. Again....no emotions and no talking about it.
Three more times during the past 10 years, I would go through similar experiences all at 10 weeks or less. No talking, no emotions. By then, it was completely routine. I never got my hopes up and ever held onto any hope of being a mother.
As I sit here, I know that overwhelming sense of sadness is the loss of each of those babies. Each tear I cry is for each "mommy" I'll never hear and for each lullaby I'll never get to sing. My heart is broken and I realized I have suffered great losses. Those weren't just things, those were my babies...my children...my hope of grandchildren...my legacy. I have suffered great loss and I am finally heartbroken.
I don't know why now I am finally feeling this loss. I have enough going on in my life that I don't need to have an additional thing to feel emotion over right now. I've asked many times tonight, "Really, God? Right now? Are you sure it has to be right now?"
I suppose there is no good time to grieve losses like this. Just as I suppose that there is nothing which helps this make sense. With no hope now of ever having a child, I find it even harder to understand why this is my store and my heart is broken.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
If Ever There Was....
a blog post that needed a neon flashing sign warning the reader of true feelings being expressed in colorful terms, this is it! All joking aside, if you think this is going to be a poetic outline of how God is good to me or some lesson I've learned...then you might want to go surf the net for something else.
The number one point to all that I have to say, is this...I'm PISSED OFF!!!!!!
Let me clarify my feelings about this a little. It has nothing to do with my lack of faith or belief in God. I believe God knows how I feel. AND...before anyone dare judge me or offer some half witted advice to "just hang in there, it'll get better", I'd invite you to take a walk in my shoes for a couple days.
First, I haven't had my keys or drivers license for nearly 18 months. That means that I must rely on somebody else to get wherever I need to go. That means that I am at the mercy of everyone around me to do things that I have to do. Don't get me started on being able to do things I want to do or just feel like doing. If I need a gallon of milk or a can of hairspray, I must find someone who can take me to get those things. That tends to get difficult when I have a husband who works two jobs.
And why does my husband work two jobs? I haven't worked in over 18 months either. No drivers license, no car keys equals no work for me.
Before you get the wrong idea, let me clarify something else. I haven't lost my driving priveledges because I got a DUI or any trouble at all for that matter. I'm a level headed, grown woman. So why don't I drive?
The truth is that for years and years I lived through unbelievable amounts of abuse. I say unbelievable because out of all the people I have met who have abuse in their background, I've never heard anyone share anything remotely close to the horrific things I went through. In fact, they are things that make the national news when they happen or you would only dream of seeing in horror movies.
Because a bunch (and it is likely on the 100s) of assholes have decided to do horrific things to me throughout my entire life, I developed a shitty disorder. I describe it that way because there is no cure, no medication and at times, it's like living in an alternate universe.
Not only do I not drive or work, I get very little time alone. And why? Again, thanks to this shitty disorder, I am often a danger to myself. If you know me personally or spend any time with me at all, don't freak out. I'm not a danger to others. Sadly, what a bunch of assholes did to me makes me want to take it out on myself and nobody else. And if you think that I am a huge danger to myself, just know that I am monitored by those few people who are closest to me. I live in a house where all glue, toxic liquids, knives, medications, and anything dangerous or ingestible are locked up. That would fall into the list of things that makes my husband's life shitty having to live with someone like me. But that's another blog post all together.
Another reason I'm pissed is because I live in this little bubble where few people even know what I go through on a daily basis. A few more people are aware of the disorder and even people closest to me struggle to understand it. Even I struggle to understand it. I think it's easy to hate myself when I don't understand myself.
Why do I live in a little bubble? For my own protection is what I say. But really, I stay in it out of fear. Let me tell you something. I lived in a bubble for over 30 years. In that bubble, I told everyone that I grew up in a normal family and life was great. Yes, that bubble was the bubble of bullshit.
My bubble wasn't to protect me, it was to protect everyone who hurt me. It was filled with shame and those words that I heard over and over..."you can't tell anyone or you will get in trouble." See what I mean, it was bullshit. It was shame. It was lies.
The bubble now really is the same thing. I stay in the bubble so nobody knows. If nobody knows about my disorder, then they don't have to deal with it. If nobody knows, I don't have to worry about them treating me differently. If nobody knows, then I don't have to worry about being misunderstand. Again...another bubble of bullshit.
It's a bubble of hey I better keep this to myself so that nobody else has to deal with or accept something that is hard. Staying in this bubble is again living with the shame of what someone else did to me. I didn't cause this disorder. I didn't want it and wouldn't wish it on anyone. But I have to hide it now? That's bullshit!!!!
Since I am primarily at church or home, those most likely to be told or find out are professing to be Christians. God says in the bible to take care of those who are sick. If someone can't handle a diagnosis (and yes, that's an admission that I am sick but not in a physical way), then why should the burden of that fall on my shoulders? If a Christian cannot handle being around someone with an illness, mental or not, then that's between that person and God...NOT me. That's a reflection of how they love people, not on how unlovable I am.
While I'm right there, I'd like to add that just because someone is sick doesn't give anyone a green light to take advantage of them. If you've ever taken advantage of someone with a decreased mental capacity or incapable of taking care of themself, then shame on you. I realize the majority of people haven't done this, but I've been on the receiving end of this and it only makes life even more jacked up. For people who do hurt those who are already hurting or sick, then all I have for you is a giant middle finger.
I live in an isolated bubble because of what all the assholes have done to me, keep getting hurt physically, emotionally, and mentally, and I've had basic adult priveledges taken away from me for months and months. Put yourself in my shoes and tell me you wouldn't be pissed off.
I don't drink or do drugs, although I think that would dull the pain and pass the time. I don't intentionally hurt others, even though the walls I put up to protect myself may make me seem like I do. People have been pointing out to me for the past two months that I seem sad or depressed. NO SHIT! Looking at the big picture, being pissed off is all I have right now to express just how frustrated I am.
The number one point to all that I have to say, is this...I'm PISSED OFF!!!!!!
Let me clarify my feelings about this a little. It has nothing to do with my lack of faith or belief in God. I believe God knows how I feel. AND...before anyone dare judge me or offer some half witted advice to "just hang in there, it'll get better", I'd invite you to take a walk in my shoes for a couple days.
First, I haven't had my keys or drivers license for nearly 18 months. That means that I must rely on somebody else to get wherever I need to go. That means that I am at the mercy of everyone around me to do things that I have to do. Don't get me started on being able to do things I want to do or just feel like doing. If I need a gallon of milk or a can of hairspray, I must find someone who can take me to get those things. That tends to get difficult when I have a husband who works two jobs.
And why does my husband work two jobs? I haven't worked in over 18 months either. No drivers license, no car keys equals no work for me.
Before you get the wrong idea, let me clarify something else. I haven't lost my driving priveledges because I got a DUI or any trouble at all for that matter. I'm a level headed, grown woman. So why don't I drive?
The truth is that for years and years I lived through unbelievable amounts of abuse. I say unbelievable because out of all the people I have met who have abuse in their background, I've never heard anyone share anything remotely close to the horrific things I went through. In fact, they are things that make the national news when they happen or you would only dream of seeing in horror movies.
Because a bunch (and it is likely on the 100s) of assholes have decided to do horrific things to me throughout my entire life, I developed a shitty disorder. I describe it that way because there is no cure, no medication and at times, it's like living in an alternate universe.
Not only do I not drive or work, I get very little time alone. And why? Again, thanks to this shitty disorder, I am often a danger to myself. If you know me personally or spend any time with me at all, don't freak out. I'm not a danger to others. Sadly, what a bunch of assholes did to me makes me want to take it out on myself and nobody else. And if you think that I am a huge danger to myself, just know that I am monitored by those few people who are closest to me. I live in a house where all glue, toxic liquids, knives, medications, and anything dangerous or ingestible are locked up. That would fall into the list of things that makes my husband's life shitty having to live with someone like me. But that's another blog post all together.
Another reason I'm pissed is because I live in this little bubble where few people even know what I go through on a daily basis. A few more people are aware of the disorder and even people closest to me struggle to understand it. Even I struggle to understand it. I think it's easy to hate myself when I don't understand myself.
Why do I live in a little bubble? For my own protection is what I say. But really, I stay in it out of fear. Let me tell you something. I lived in a bubble for over 30 years. In that bubble, I told everyone that I grew up in a normal family and life was great. Yes, that bubble was the bubble of bullshit.
My bubble wasn't to protect me, it was to protect everyone who hurt me. It was filled with shame and those words that I heard over and over..."you can't tell anyone or you will get in trouble." See what I mean, it was bullshit. It was shame. It was lies.
The bubble now really is the same thing. I stay in the bubble so nobody knows. If nobody knows about my disorder, then they don't have to deal with it. If nobody knows, I don't have to worry about them treating me differently. If nobody knows, then I don't have to worry about being misunderstand. Again...another bubble of bullshit.
It's a bubble of hey I better keep this to myself so that nobody else has to deal with or accept something that is hard. Staying in this bubble is again living with the shame of what someone else did to me. I didn't cause this disorder. I didn't want it and wouldn't wish it on anyone. But I have to hide it now? That's bullshit!!!!
Since I am primarily at church or home, those most likely to be told or find out are professing to be Christians. God says in the bible to take care of those who are sick. If someone can't handle a diagnosis (and yes, that's an admission that I am sick but not in a physical way), then why should the burden of that fall on my shoulders? If a Christian cannot handle being around someone with an illness, mental or not, then that's between that person and God...NOT me. That's a reflection of how they love people, not on how unlovable I am.
While I'm right there, I'd like to add that just because someone is sick doesn't give anyone a green light to take advantage of them. If you've ever taken advantage of someone with a decreased mental capacity or incapable of taking care of themself, then shame on you. I realize the majority of people haven't done this, but I've been on the receiving end of this and it only makes life even more jacked up. For people who do hurt those who are already hurting or sick, then all I have for you is a giant middle finger.
I live in an isolated bubble because of what all the assholes have done to me, keep getting hurt physically, emotionally, and mentally, and I've had basic adult priveledges taken away from me for months and months. Put yourself in my shoes and tell me you wouldn't be pissed off.
I don't drink or do drugs, although I think that would dull the pain and pass the time. I don't intentionally hurt others, even though the walls I put up to protect myself may make me seem like I do. People have been pointing out to me for the past two months that I seem sad or depressed. NO SHIT! Looking at the big picture, being pissed off is all I have right now to express just how frustrated I am.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Time After Time
Throughout my life, no matter what circumstance I was going through, I could always find music that I could identify with or take something from that made me feel a little better. I enjoyed listening to it. Loved singing to it. And, taught myself how to play it. I've long since given up the dream of being able to continue teaching myself to play it. But I still had to listen to and sing.
For me, the darker the time I am in the less music I listen to and lately...I've listened to none of it and I am silenced. It is hard to believe that something that has carried me through so many horrible and discouraging times is no longer of any help.
As I began to think through my silence, I was reminded of a song that got me through many long nights. "Time After Time" by Cindy Lauper may not sound like the kind of song that stays with you for over 25 years, but it has.
In the early 80's, music videos were on every Friday and Saturday night. I think that is where I heard the music the first time. Even at that young elementary age, I listened to the words. I don't know what the real meaning behind this song is, but I know what it said to me. To me, this was about a person who would never turn their back on me. Someone who cares about me so much that they would never walk away and never think about me again. And, this opened the door to the thought that someone could be big and strong enough to take me out of the house I was in or protect me from being hurt.
I know this was my way of fantisizing about something which could never happen in the hell I was living in at the time. That really wasn't the part of this song that meant the most to me.
Without giving too much information, I can say that it was not uncommon for me to have to spend hours comforting two younger brothers. I often saw in their faces the same fear and pain that I felt but tried to hide from them. I always felt like I had to hide my fear and pain to give them hope that things would get better.
I remember holding my shaking, crying little brother in my arms one night. I was all of 10 years old and doing my best to comfort a 5 year old who was fearful we might not live. I needed him to know that I was not going to leave him and that I would never go too far away. I needed him to feel the safety I could not.
As I held him tight, I sang the song to him. I remember very clearly fighting tears back. I too was fearful that this would never be true for him either.
When I moved out of my parents house at 18, my brother went through a very angry phase. I know he felt abandoned by me and understandably so. I had left him when I had always promised not to. Again, I found myself knowing I would never turn my back on him completely.
It has been over four years since I have talked to either of my brothers. From a distance, I still sing this song for both of them. Maybe not for what the song means, but what it meant for me. I still want them protected and cared for above anything else. Through the hurt and pain that has separated us, I still care deeply about them and only want the best for them. My heart breaks for all that distances us and I weep for all that has been lost between us.
But.......They can still look and find me, time after time. If they fall I'll be waiting, time after time.
Time After Time
Lying in my bed, I hear the clock ticks, and think of you
Caught up in circles, confusion is nothing new
Flash back, warm night, almost left behind
Suitcase of memories...
Time after
Sometimes you pictured me, I'm walking too far ahead
You're callin' to me, I can't hear what you've said
You said, "Go slow, I fall behind"
The second hand unwinds...
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me,
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting,
Time after time
I turn, my picture fades, and darkness has turned to grey
Watching through windows, you're wondering if I'm okay
Secrets, stolen, from deep inside,
The drum beats out of time...
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me,
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting,
Time after time
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me,
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting,
Time after time
Time after time...
For me, the darker the time I am in the less music I listen to and lately...I've listened to none of it and I am silenced. It is hard to believe that something that has carried me through so many horrible and discouraging times is no longer of any help.
As I began to think through my silence, I was reminded of a song that got me through many long nights. "Time After Time" by Cindy Lauper may not sound like the kind of song that stays with you for over 25 years, but it has.
In the early 80's, music videos were on every Friday and Saturday night. I think that is where I heard the music the first time. Even at that young elementary age, I listened to the words. I don't know what the real meaning behind this song is, but I know what it said to me. To me, this was about a person who would never turn their back on me. Someone who cares about me so much that they would never walk away and never think about me again. And, this opened the door to the thought that someone could be big and strong enough to take me out of the house I was in or protect me from being hurt.
I know this was my way of fantisizing about something which could never happen in the hell I was living in at the time. That really wasn't the part of this song that meant the most to me.
Without giving too much information, I can say that it was not uncommon for me to have to spend hours comforting two younger brothers. I often saw in their faces the same fear and pain that I felt but tried to hide from them. I always felt like I had to hide my fear and pain to give them hope that things would get better.
I remember holding my shaking, crying little brother in my arms one night. I was all of 10 years old and doing my best to comfort a 5 year old who was fearful we might not live. I needed him to know that I was not going to leave him and that I would never go too far away. I needed him to feel the safety I could not.
As I held him tight, I sang the song to him. I remember very clearly fighting tears back. I too was fearful that this would never be true for him either.
When I moved out of my parents house at 18, my brother went through a very angry phase. I know he felt abandoned by me and understandably so. I had left him when I had always promised not to. Again, I found myself knowing I would never turn my back on him completely.
It has been over four years since I have talked to either of my brothers. From a distance, I still sing this song for both of them. Maybe not for what the song means, but what it meant for me. I still want them protected and cared for above anything else. Through the hurt and pain that has separated us, I still care deeply about them and only want the best for them. My heart breaks for all that distances us and I weep for all that has been lost between us.
But.......They can still look and find me, time after time. If they fall I'll be waiting, time after time.
Time After Time
Lying in my bed, I hear the clock ticks, and think of you
Caught up in circles, confusion is nothing new
Flash back, warm night, almost left behind
Suitcase of memories...
Time after
Sometimes you pictured me, I'm walking too far ahead
You're callin' to me, I can't hear what you've said
You said, "Go slow, I fall behind"
The second hand unwinds...
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me,
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting,
Time after time
I turn, my picture fades, and darkness has turned to grey
Watching through windows, you're wondering if I'm okay
Secrets, stolen, from deep inside,
The drum beats out of time...
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me,
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I'll be waiting,
Time after time
If you're lost, you can look and you will find me,
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting,
Time after time
Time after time...
Monday, June 6, 2011
Seasons of Change
I'm not sure what this season in my life is called, but I know it is full of changes. Some small, some huge. Some wonderful, some painful. Some intentional, some surpass all understanding. Regardless of the change, it is a change and for someone who does not deal with change well....it is overwhelming.
When I look around my house, almost nothing looks the same as it did a year ago. Good or bad, it has all been changed. Actually, the changes are all good. The means by which they happened have not been so good. Kent and I both got pushed into making changes and purchases for our house that we were not ready nor prepared to make. That along with some major empty promises have brought about abrupt change and left us with so much undone. Now the change is still happening, but I constantly find myself trying to deal with the change of things being completely undone or unfinished.
Even though I haven't worked in 18 months, I officially left my position of nearly 10 years in December. I loved my job and cannot imagine doing anything else. It was a difficult decision, but necessary. That was a change with good and bad, but mostly sadness.
As I look at the past year and the unraveling of my life, one thing I rested in was the idea that I was safe from being hurt in abusive ways. It is a change of how I view my entire life and my idea of safety, when I think about each time I have learned I was wrong about this. I think my first clue that true "safety" from abuse is an illusion was when I was assaulted 50 yards from my front door. My idea of living a safer life only continued to get twisted from there, learning I have been in the hands of one abuser or another often during this time. This realization was one of the more painful changes.
When I think about people who were in my life a year ago and maybe a little longer, I can only a very few familiar faces in all the change. I don't develop relationship easily, so I tend to try to hang onto the good ones as long as I can. I think that is what makes broken relationships even harder to accept. It is another change that is incredibly painful and for many reasons.
Even the past 10 days have been filled with change.
Kent and I were involved in an accident on May 27. Kent hit a car and then we hit a ditch. With the exception of some minor but nagging injuries, everyone was fine. The truck, however, was not. It is a change to not have the truck. It was paid for, didn't have any major issues and was the first truck we had bought together.
The truck is replaceable. Right now, I am not sure that my confidence on the highway is replaceable. I am someone who likes to go. When I am bored, I want to drive or go for a ride. Maybe I am more like a dog or baby than I think sometimes. Up until that day, I would have jumped in a car without much hesitation and been fine to travel all over the country. Not now! I am fearful and have anxiety about many things, but getting in a car was not one of them until now. I don't know how to get on the highway and just be ok. That is a change that I hope does not stay long.
A week ago, we had our lab Soffee put to sleep. By the way, she isn't sleeping so I don't know why they call it that. It is a change to not have her as a regular part of my life. From morning to night, she was a fixture in my life. She often woke me up in the morning, barking at the other dogs or cat for doing something she didn't approve of at the time. She laid on the floor by the tub while I took a shower. I often wondered if that was her way of protecting me. She followed me to the door as I walked out every morning. She often met me at the door when I got home and greeted me with a bark. She always let me know when it was time to eat at night or again when the other dogs were misbehaving. I usually had to wake her up and send her to the bedroom at bedtime. It is a change to have all of those constants one day and have them gone the next.
Best case scenario would be that I either instantly become more adaptable to change or there be no more change in my life. I don't believe either of those things will happen. Maybe I could wish for less painful changes that drain me emotional and leave me brokenhearted. Maybe for now this season could just slow down so that I can catch my breath and assimilate all the changes that have occurred.
When I look around my house, almost nothing looks the same as it did a year ago. Good or bad, it has all been changed. Actually, the changes are all good. The means by which they happened have not been so good. Kent and I both got pushed into making changes and purchases for our house that we were not ready nor prepared to make. That along with some major empty promises have brought about abrupt change and left us with so much undone. Now the change is still happening, but I constantly find myself trying to deal with the change of things being completely undone or unfinished.
Even though I haven't worked in 18 months, I officially left my position of nearly 10 years in December. I loved my job and cannot imagine doing anything else. It was a difficult decision, but necessary. That was a change with good and bad, but mostly sadness.
As I look at the past year and the unraveling of my life, one thing I rested in was the idea that I was safe from being hurt in abusive ways. It is a change of how I view my entire life and my idea of safety, when I think about each time I have learned I was wrong about this. I think my first clue that true "safety" from abuse is an illusion was when I was assaulted 50 yards from my front door. My idea of living a safer life only continued to get twisted from there, learning I have been in the hands of one abuser or another often during this time. This realization was one of the more painful changes.
When I think about people who were in my life a year ago and maybe a little longer, I can only a very few familiar faces in all the change. I don't develop relationship easily, so I tend to try to hang onto the good ones as long as I can. I think that is what makes broken relationships even harder to accept. It is another change that is incredibly painful and for many reasons.
Even the past 10 days have been filled with change.
Kent and I were involved in an accident on May 27. Kent hit a car and then we hit a ditch. With the exception of some minor but nagging injuries, everyone was fine. The truck, however, was not. It is a change to not have the truck. It was paid for, didn't have any major issues and was the first truck we had bought together.
The truck is replaceable. Right now, I am not sure that my confidence on the highway is replaceable. I am someone who likes to go. When I am bored, I want to drive or go for a ride. Maybe I am more like a dog or baby than I think sometimes. Up until that day, I would have jumped in a car without much hesitation and been fine to travel all over the country. Not now! I am fearful and have anxiety about many things, but getting in a car was not one of them until now. I don't know how to get on the highway and just be ok. That is a change that I hope does not stay long.
A week ago, we had our lab Soffee put to sleep. By the way, she isn't sleeping so I don't know why they call it that. It is a change to not have her as a regular part of my life. From morning to night, she was a fixture in my life. She often woke me up in the morning, barking at the other dogs or cat for doing something she didn't approve of at the time. She laid on the floor by the tub while I took a shower. I often wondered if that was her way of protecting me. She followed me to the door as I walked out every morning. She often met me at the door when I got home and greeted me with a bark. She always let me know when it was time to eat at night or again when the other dogs were misbehaving. I usually had to wake her up and send her to the bedroom at bedtime. It is a change to have all of those constants one day and have them gone the next.
Best case scenario would be that I either instantly become more adaptable to change or there be no more change in my life. I don't believe either of those things will happen. Maybe I could wish for less painful changes that drain me emotional and leave me brokenhearted. Maybe for now this season could just slow down so that I can catch my breath and assimilate all the changes that have occurred.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Alonenesssssssssssss
I have two thoughts swirling around in my head that are very different yet lead to the same alone feeling at the end of the day.
In all ways and all times, we are fully exposed to God. We never escape and are never hidden. That is one of the fundamental truths from the Bible that I have been taught and hold onto. Whether I am angry or happy, sin or forgive others, God knows. He knows when I don't understand and He knows when I do but make the wrong choice anyway. He knows all about me, even the intricate details of my life that others don't know. He knows! I have nothing to hide from God.
I also believe this to be true for everyone. If God knows each hair on your head, then He certainly knows the intricate details of your life too.
With that said.....I'll give you something to ponder. If God knows each of those details, why are we so afraid and ashamed of them?
When it comes to difficult and intimate details of our life, we tend to hold those things close....too close. And, why? Because we fear judgement and are ashamed. Why does it have to be that way? Because we are too busy and live with too much fear to allow ourselves to get involved in the darkest, ugliest parts of each others lives. BUT WHY??????
When we don't share who we are, good and bad, with others, then we live with aloneness. If we don't allow ourselves to get involved in other's lives, don't we live in a certain level of aloneness? I believe we do.
That's where I sit with most everyone, alone!
I heard a comment in a Sunday School class this week about how we tend to get involved in each other's lives only when there is an illness or job loss. I've seen this and lived this. But what about all the life that happens in between those times?
Isn't it a good thing God isn't like that? Aren't we supposed to be more like God and less like the world?
In all ways and all times, we are fully exposed to God. We never escape and are never hidden. That is one of the fundamental truths from the Bible that I have been taught and hold onto. Whether I am angry or happy, sin or forgive others, God knows. He knows when I don't understand and He knows when I do but make the wrong choice anyway. He knows all about me, even the intricate details of my life that others don't know. He knows! I have nothing to hide from God.
I also believe this to be true for everyone. If God knows each hair on your head, then He certainly knows the intricate details of your life too.
With that said.....I'll give you something to ponder. If God knows each of those details, why are we so afraid and ashamed of them?
When it comes to difficult and intimate details of our life, we tend to hold those things close....too close. And, why? Because we fear judgement and are ashamed. Why does it have to be that way? Because we are too busy and live with too much fear to allow ourselves to get involved in the darkest, ugliest parts of each others lives. BUT WHY??????
When we don't share who we are, good and bad, with others, then we live with aloneness. If we don't allow ourselves to get involved in other's lives, don't we live in a certain level of aloneness? I believe we do.
That's where I sit with most everyone, alone!
I heard a comment in a Sunday School class this week about how we tend to get involved in each other's lives only when there is an illness or job loss. I've seen this and lived this. But what about all the life that happens in between those times?
Isn't it a good thing God isn't like that? Aren't we supposed to be more like God and less like the world?
Monday, February 28, 2011
Tell Me The Reason
That's a fairly generic title for the content that's filling my head. There are a chain of events that are sitting heavy on my heart. When you don't understand something that happens, it's hard to file it away.
About six months ago, I became aware of a tragedy that hit me so hard that I couldn't bring myself to write about it or even talk about it much. I'm not even sure I can say much about it now beyond just a summary.
When I was younger, I babysat a girl named Kandi and her brother, Jesse. Really long story short, that job ended when my grandma went to the authorities about sexual abuse that was happening in Kandi's home. Fast forward many years later, I find an obituary in a local paper for Kandi. She had been brutally murdered by her husband. Without question, I still struggle with understanding this.
A few months later, I learn that my sister-in-law's brother was killed in an auto accident. The youngest son in a family who had already lost an older sister suddenly at a young age. My brother, who I've always known to be the most sensitive of the three of us, was on the emergency call to the site of the accident. With an upside down truck, I suppose there is no way to really know who you will rescue or recover. It was my brother who recovered the body of his brother-in-law, a kid he watched grow up. It's hard to believe that the young boy I watched wrestling around with my nephew had grown up, was about to become a first-time father and was now gone. I was once again asking myself, why?
Two weeks ago, I saw a news story on the local station about a young lady found dead. Later that evening, I found out this was a young lady from back home. Coming from a small town, there were so many connections to her family through friends and family. Murdered by her boyfriend, I struggle to make sense of why.
This Saturday, I received a message from a dear friend. Her sister-in-law had been killed in a car accident. The wife of one of Kent's friends, this was another young lady that I remember from when she was a baby. Growing up with her sisters, I remember when her mom was pregnant with her. She had grown up, gotten married and had three children of her own, with the youngest turning one this upcoming Saturday. How does this make sense?
I have no place to put this strand of events. There's no file in my wee little brain to put senseless tragedies that happen to young people with so much life left ahead of them.
Saturday night, I broke. I've been told that when you don't understand, you are supposed to turn to God. I just couldn't do that. I think I had a full fit with God over these things. I mean turned away, arms crossed, shaking my head and saying "Nope, God. None of these things make sense and I'm not looking back to you until you explain it to me."
Really, I'm doing that with my entire life right now. Explain it to me because I don't understand. On a very personal level and completely separate from all of these events, I've been knocked down and repeatedly kicked the past few weeks. I think I've hit rock bottom with life. Maybe my fit is more of my way of telling God that if I'm going to make it through, then He's going to have to give me what I need. I know I don't NEED answers to questions, but I do know that I NEED something to grab onto so that I don't end up on that list of tragedies.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
About six months ago, I became aware of a tragedy that hit me so hard that I couldn't bring myself to write about it or even talk about it much. I'm not even sure I can say much about it now beyond just a summary.
When I was younger, I babysat a girl named Kandi and her brother, Jesse. Really long story short, that job ended when my grandma went to the authorities about sexual abuse that was happening in Kandi's home. Fast forward many years later, I find an obituary in a local paper for Kandi. She had been brutally murdered by her husband. Without question, I still struggle with understanding this.
A few months later, I learn that my sister-in-law's brother was killed in an auto accident. The youngest son in a family who had already lost an older sister suddenly at a young age. My brother, who I've always known to be the most sensitive of the three of us, was on the emergency call to the site of the accident. With an upside down truck, I suppose there is no way to really know who you will rescue or recover. It was my brother who recovered the body of his brother-in-law, a kid he watched grow up. It's hard to believe that the young boy I watched wrestling around with my nephew had grown up, was about to become a first-time father and was now gone. I was once again asking myself, why?
Two weeks ago, I saw a news story on the local station about a young lady found dead. Later that evening, I found out this was a young lady from back home. Coming from a small town, there were so many connections to her family through friends and family. Murdered by her boyfriend, I struggle to make sense of why.
This Saturday, I received a message from a dear friend. Her sister-in-law had been killed in a car accident. The wife of one of Kent's friends, this was another young lady that I remember from when she was a baby. Growing up with her sisters, I remember when her mom was pregnant with her. She had grown up, gotten married and had three children of her own, with the youngest turning one this upcoming Saturday. How does this make sense?
I have no place to put this strand of events. There's no file in my wee little brain to put senseless tragedies that happen to young people with so much life left ahead of them.
Saturday night, I broke. I've been told that when you don't understand, you are supposed to turn to God. I just couldn't do that. I think I had a full fit with God over these things. I mean turned away, arms crossed, shaking my head and saying "Nope, God. None of these things make sense and I'm not looking back to you until you explain it to me."
Really, I'm doing that with my entire life right now. Explain it to me because I don't understand. On a very personal level and completely separate from all of these events, I've been knocked down and repeatedly kicked the past few weeks. I think I've hit rock bottom with life. Maybe my fit is more of my way of telling God that if I'm going to make it through, then He's going to have to give me what I need. I know I don't NEED answers to questions, but I do know that I NEED something to grab onto so that I don't end up on that list of tragedies.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Lessons on the Sin of Others
I begin by stating that in no way am I saying I am not a sinful person, because I am. However, I deal with the long-lasting effects of other's sins on a daily basis. In doing so, the waters get a little muddy and I find myself wanting to take on the guilt for another person's sin naturally.
There are many times that I think it would be easier to take the guilt, blame and consequence for other's sins from my past all as my own. Growing up face-to-face with evil, it was built deep into my soul that I am at fault for the sins of others.
As I reflect over the past few years, I see two major events in my life which have began teaching me the right place for another person's sins.
In 2007 thru 2009, I went through a lengthy process with an embezzling boss. That's probably another blog for another day too. Regardless, I immediately took on guilt of her sin. She had stolen over $375,000 over 7 years and had done so by herself. She tried to blame everyone, including me. She even changed her personal credit card info to reflect my home phone number from which I received many collection calls on bad debts.
I spent months beating myself up. Why hadn't I questioned more of what she did? How could I allow myself to trust this person? It had to be my fault. I didn't do enough and it was easy to take the blame.
Looking back, I realize now that it was her sin. When given the opportunity, I did what was right. It wasn't my sin and therefore, I could not take on the guilt of what she had done.
The other event was more personal and more painful, but the lesson was much the same.
This isn't meant as a way to share gossip, but to share the lesson I learned.
I allowed myself to become fast and close friends with a woman I believed to be biblically grounded. The way she presented herself was that of a godly woman who had a sound marriage based on faith in each other and a faith in God.
Not long after becoming comfortable in the relationship, I learned that this woman struggled with sin in the form of gossip. Of course I believed that she hated it, tried her best not to get involved in it and would never "do that" to me. At times, I found myself getting wrapped up in gossip. It would take a mindful effort on my part to not fall into her sin.
As I was learning more about being accountable and holding accountable those you love, I felt very convicted. She was less than welcoming of my thoughts that we should both try to hold one another accountable for this. However, it wasn't an issue I felt needed to end the relationship.
I believed for a long time that my "looking the other way" was what led to trudging through more sin with this same person.
It wasn't long before this woman began talking to me about her personal "affairs" and began trying to use me as her alibi when she would try to sneak off to meet her "friends." While I never allowed myself to get entangled in that web, I found myself in something else I hadn't expected.
There was a great respect I had for her husband as well, how could I now look him in the face?
Once again I found myself taking on the guilt of her sins. She was choosing infidelity and I was taking on that guilt. If I were such a good friend, how could I have not stopped her? I did confront her, but what had I said or not said right? I had to have been completely wrong for telling her that I couldn't befriend her and keep her secrets. But I couldn't do it...I couldn't sit across the table from her husband knowing what she was doing. In her words, I had not been a good friend to her.
Needless-to-say, the relationship broke apart and quite dramatically. She was more than willing to heap all the blame on me and I was willing to take it. I knew I had some how wronged her and I obviously deserved the nasty rumors, snide comments and all out hatefulness she was dishing out.
It's taken several months for me to realize that I did all that I could. By nature, I wanted to accept the blame for the relationship falling apart and for her sins. But I can't. Did I make mistakes in the relationship...yes! But her sin was not my fault and I was not responsible for her actions...not toward me, not toward her husband and certainly not toward God.
I have learned to take what is mine from that relationship and leave what is not. Regardless of what I think, say or do, I could not stop her from taking the actions that she did.
While it may not seem like a huge, life-altering lesson for most people, it will eventually be for me. Learning that I am only responsible for my own sins and not the sins of others is a huge lesson for me. It is getting my little toe in the door of healing.
There are many times that I think it would be easier to take the guilt, blame and consequence for other's sins from my past all as my own. Growing up face-to-face with evil, it was built deep into my soul that I am at fault for the sins of others.
As I reflect over the past few years, I see two major events in my life which have began teaching me the right place for another person's sins.
In 2007 thru 2009, I went through a lengthy process with an embezzling boss. That's probably another blog for another day too. Regardless, I immediately took on guilt of her sin. She had stolen over $375,000 over 7 years and had done so by herself. She tried to blame everyone, including me. She even changed her personal credit card info to reflect my home phone number from which I received many collection calls on bad debts.
I spent months beating myself up. Why hadn't I questioned more of what she did? How could I allow myself to trust this person? It had to be my fault. I didn't do enough and it was easy to take the blame.
Looking back, I realize now that it was her sin. When given the opportunity, I did what was right. It wasn't my sin and therefore, I could not take on the guilt of what she had done.
The other event was more personal and more painful, but the lesson was much the same.
This isn't meant as a way to share gossip, but to share the lesson I learned.
I allowed myself to become fast and close friends with a woman I believed to be biblically grounded. The way she presented herself was that of a godly woman who had a sound marriage based on faith in each other and a faith in God.
Not long after becoming comfortable in the relationship, I learned that this woman struggled with sin in the form of gossip. Of course I believed that she hated it, tried her best not to get involved in it and would never "do that" to me. At times, I found myself getting wrapped up in gossip. It would take a mindful effort on my part to not fall into her sin.
As I was learning more about being accountable and holding accountable those you love, I felt very convicted. She was less than welcoming of my thoughts that we should both try to hold one another accountable for this. However, it wasn't an issue I felt needed to end the relationship.
I believed for a long time that my "looking the other way" was what led to trudging through more sin with this same person.
It wasn't long before this woman began talking to me about her personal "affairs" and began trying to use me as her alibi when she would try to sneak off to meet her "friends." While I never allowed myself to get entangled in that web, I found myself in something else I hadn't expected.
There was a great respect I had for her husband as well, how could I now look him in the face?
Once again I found myself taking on the guilt of her sins. She was choosing infidelity and I was taking on that guilt. If I were such a good friend, how could I have not stopped her? I did confront her, but what had I said or not said right? I had to have been completely wrong for telling her that I couldn't befriend her and keep her secrets. But I couldn't do it...I couldn't sit across the table from her husband knowing what she was doing. In her words, I had not been a good friend to her.
Needless-to-say, the relationship broke apart and quite dramatically. She was more than willing to heap all the blame on me and I was willing to take it. I knew I had some how wronged her and I obviously deserved the nasty rumors, snide comments and all out hatefulness she was dishing out.
It's taken several months for me to realize that I did all that I could. By nature, I wanted to accept the blame for the relationship falling apart and for her sins. But I can't. Did I make mistakes in the relationship...yes! But her sin was not my fault and I was not responsible for her actions...not toward me, not toward her husband and certainly not toward God.
I have learned to take what is mine from that relationship and leave what is not. Regardless of what I think, say or do, I could not stop her from taking the actions that she did.
While it may not seem like a huge, life-altering lesson for most people, it will eventually be for me. Learning that I am only responsible for my own sins and not the sins of others is a huge lesson for me. It is getting my little toe in the door of healing.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
No Words
Warning to the reader...this isn't a happy, warm, fuzzy post about some huge God moment in my life. It isn't a complain about everything that's wrong in my life either. It is a flow of honest emotion about one facet of my life right now.
No matter how hard those around me try....no matter how hard I try, there is a communication barrier between myself and the rest of the world.
Do not mistake that for me saying that nobody ever tries to work through that with me. I think several people do try and continue to try once I have long given up. I know several people around me have tried their best to understand me. But the truth is, how can they?
If I think about a mother who is distraught over a sick child, I could not understand her pain. Why? Because I have never been a mother with a sick child. While some people can identify with some of what I deal with, I know nobody who can truly understand what my life is like. Why? Because they have never been in my shoes. Most of the people around me have never seen or dealt with someone with issues like mine.
Wow...that's a hard one to take. People don't understand me because I'm different. I am not different by choice but by default and I hate it.
So, how do I communicate with people who don't understand? Really, how do I communicate with people when I don't understand?
I would love to be able to tell each and every person exactly what I need so that this season in my life could be made easier for myself and everyone around me. But the truth is, I can't.
Deep inside me is buried an anchor of independence. I must operate in the idea that I do not NEED anything from anybody. If I tell anyone that I need something, then I become dependent on them. If I am dependent on them, then I am at their mercy. I CANNOT do that to myself.
Each and every person I was dependent on up to the age of 23 hurt me. I don't mean a hurt feelings kind of hurt, but a feared for my life, abandoned and tortured kind of hurt. No way am I going to open myself up to that kind of hurt again, therefore...I will not NEED anything from anybody.
If you know me at all, you know I am dependent on everybody for every need that I have right now. I must rely on someone to do most everything I want to do. You maybe able to imagine the tug of war I have inside me over having to and not wanting to...but that's probably another blog post altogether.
Even if I could tell people what I need to get through the rough times, I don't think I could. My intricate little mess inside my head shuts my mouth down every time I even think about sharing what I need.
So...that leaves me wanting and needing to just sit in my own misery, by myself. If I can't ask for help and people don't understand, then why go through the pains of trying and failing? I would rather stay in my secluded little world. That method managed to keep me alive for 35 years, why wouldn't it work now?
There's only one fault in my master plan. It's worked, but obviously not well or I wouldn't be here again.
How do I know what I need? How do I figure out a way to really communicate that? How do I know who really cares to know what that is? There are no words beyond, "I don't." But why does that answer hurt too?
Times like now take me back to a time when I truly thought my life was going to end at the hands of an evil man and I ask myself....What was I so afraid of? What did I really think I had to live for?
No matter how hard those around me try....no matter how hard I try, there is a communication barrier between myself and the rest of the world.
Do not mistake that for me saying that nobody ever tries to work through that with me. I think several people do try and continue to try once I have long given up. I know several people around me have tried their best to understand me. But the truth is, how can they?
If I think about a mother who is distraught over a sick child, I could not understand her pain. Why? Because I have never been a mother with a sick child. While some people can identify with some of what I deal with, I know nobody who can truly understand what my life is like. Why? Because they have never been in my shoes. Most of the people around me have never seen or dealt with someone with issues like mine.
Wow...that's a hard one to take. People don't understand me because I'm different. I am not different by choice but by default and I hate it.
So, how do I communicate with people who don't understand? Really, how do I communicate with people when I don't understand?
I would love to be able to tell each and every person exactly what I need so that this season in my life could be made easier for myself and everyone around me. But the truth is, I can't.
Deep inside me is buried an anchor of independence. I must operate in the idea that I do not NEED anything from anybody. If I tell anyone that I need something, then I become dependent on them. If I am dependent on them, then I am at their mercy. I CANNOT do that to myself.
Each and every person I was dependent on up to the age of 23 hurt me. I don't mean a hurt feelings kind of hurt, but a feared for my life, abandoned and tortured kind of hurt. No way am I going to open myself up to that kind of hurt again, therefore...I will not NEED anything from anybody.
If you know me at all, you know I am dependent on everybody for every need that I have right now. I must rely on someone to do most everything I want to do. You maybe able to imagine the tug of war I have inside me over having to and not wanting to...but that's probably another blog post altogether.
Even if I could tell people what I need to get through the rough times, I don't think I could. My intricate little mess inside my head shuts my mouth down every time I even think about sharing what I need.
So...that leaves me wanting and needing to just sit in my own misery, by myself. If I can't ask for help and people don't understand, then why go through the pains of trying and failing? I would rather stay in my secluded little world. That method managed to keep me alive for 35 years, why wouldn't it work now?
There's only one fault in my master plan. It's worked, but obviously not well or I wouldn't be here again.
How do I know what I need? How do I figure out a way to really communicate that? How do I know who really cares to know what that is? There are no words beyond, "I don't." But why does that answer hurt too?
Times like now take me back to a time when I truly thought my life was going to end at the hands of an evil man and I ask myself....What was I so afraid of? What did I really think I had to live for?
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Everything Simplified
I can barely believe that it is now 2011. Phew! At times, I thought 2010 would never end. There is a sense of starting fresh this year that I've never really felt.
Most of 2010 was a whirlwind of discovery that came with a lot of heartache. So, to say I am ready to start fresh with a new year is an understatement. Maybe it's not even starting fresh that is so important at this time but being able to know that an entire year is now behind me.
I could spend several blog posts sharing all that I've learned in the past year. But today, I'm looking at one thing that I've learned and am carrying forward to this year.
My life is complex and I have learned to crave simplicity. There is always so much going on around me and with me, that I constantly find myself placing more value on the things that are simple.
I love cooking and baking, but now I want the 3-5 ingredient recipes that make a delicious meal. It takes me months to read a book, but I now spend hours soaking up short articles in magazines.
My wonderful husband got me an ipad for Christmas. I have loaded every app I need to make my life as simple as possible. I even set here with my wireless keyboard, ipad and app writing this blog post.
With all the changes that 2010 brought about (and there were some pretty major changes), I think I like this change in me the most. I have finally learned to appreciate that things do not have to be complicated to be enjoyed or even perfect.
I could have never predicted a year ago that a change would take place in me so big that the most peaceful moments in my life would be as simple as enjoying a cup of coffee with a good magazine in a quiet coffee shop.
Thank God for changes that drive us to appreciate the simple things in life.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Most of 2010 was a whirlwind of discovery that came with a lot of heartache. So, to say I am ready to start fresh with a new year is an understatement. Maybe it's not even starting fresh that is so important at this time but being able to know that an entire year is now behind me.
I could spend several blog posts sharing all that I've learned in the past year. But today, I'm looking at one thing that I've learned and am carrying forward to this year.
My life is complex and I have learned to crave simplicity. There is always so much going on around me and with me, that I constantly find myself placing more value on the things that are simple.
I love cooking and baking, but now I want the 3-5 ingredient recipes that make a delicious meal. It takes me months to read a book, but I now spend hours soaking up short articles in magazines.
My wonderful husband got me an ipad for Christmas. I have loaded every app I need to make my life as simple as possible. I even set here with my wireless keyboard, ipad and app writing this blog post.
With all the changes that 2010 brought about (and there were some pretty major changes), I think I like this change in me the most. I have finally learned to appreciate that things do not have to be complicated to be enjoyed or even perfect.
I could have never predicted a year ago that a change would take place in me so big that the most peaceful moments in my life would be as simple as enjoying a cup of coffee with a good magazine in a quiet coffee shop.
Thank God for changes that drive us to appreciate the simple things in life.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sometimes....
Whether it be circumstances or relationships or our own issues, I think sometimes we just get to be angry. Sometimes, I think we get to be angry and don't have to find the good in anything.
I am right there, in that time when nothing is good and I am angry at everything. I don't even feel guilty about it either. With as little as I know, understand and believe about God, I think one thing is true. If He knows every hair on my head, then He surely knows how I feel and why. Why even bother trying to hide what is true, right?
It has been a long, hard year and I have a lot to be angry about without question. My circumstances have forced me into a dark place and I feel as though I have lost more than I have gained. I get to be angry about that.
A year ago, I had a great job. It was stressful and many of the people I worked with were unkind, but I loved the job regardless. In January of this year, I took a temporary medical leave of absence. Temporary turned into permanent, which led to my resignation this fall. It has been an incredibly painful loss for me. For nine years, that has been my home away from home. I put my heart into much of what I did. Dysfunctional at their best, the people were the closest thing I had to a family. It has been a loss all the way around and one that adds to the loneliness this time of year brings.
It has been over a year now since I have been able to drive. In the past year, I have heard people complain about the price of gas, traffic and having to drive across town on errands. In my little mind, I'm saying "are you kidding me?" In not being able to drive, I have lost the ability to do those things. I must depend on someone else if I want to go anywhere. I'm rarely given choices and am usually at the mercy of the person willing to let me tag along, which I am thankful for. But think for a second how you would feel if for a solid year that you only had limited choices of where you could shop, eat, or even spend your spare time? It's another loss that makes me angry.
For most of the past nine months, I have not been allowed to spend any large amount of time alone. In fact, I am only allowed one hour alone on any given day. That hour alone rarely happens and usually is interupted by a phone call halfway through. I am not discounting the effort it takes for those around me to make sure that I am never left alone. But think again how you would feel to not have the ability to have alone time. It is a freedom that many people enjoy without realizing that it is a freedom. I am most angry about this loss.
This year has been full of learning things about myself that I hadn't previously known and most of it has been dark and ugly. I have taken steps backwards by learning that a survivor is someone who has lived through abuse and accepting that I am not yet a survivor. With all that I have learned and all that has happened this year alone, I am not yet a survivor of abuse and I am angry about that.
God tells me right in the bible that I don't just have to be angry about all of these things, I get to hate them and rightfully so. Romans 12:9 says "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil, cling to what is good." My anger is a direct result of the evil that has been done in my life. I get to be angry. I get to hate it! And...I'm guessing if God knows me that well, then He knows that right now I can't cling to anything good. The only hope I have left is that someone else is clinging to the good and will grab my hand before I fall.
I am right there, in that time when nothing is good and I am angry at everything. I don't even feel guilty about it either. With as little as I know, understand and believe about God, I think one thing is true. If He knows every hair on my head, then He surely knows how I feel and why. Why even bother trying to hide what is true, right?
It has been a long, hard year and I have a lot to be angry about without question. My circumstances have forced me into a dark place and I feel as though I have lost more than I have gained. I get to be angry about that.
A year ago, I had a great job. It was stressful and many of the people I worked with were unkind, but I loved the job regardless. In January of this year, I took a temporary medical leave of absence. Temporary turned into permanent, which led to my resignation this fall. It has been an incredibly painful loss for me. For nine years, that has been my home away from home. I put my heart into much of what I did. Dysfunctional at their best, the people were the closest thing I had to a family. It has been a loss all the way around and one that adds to the loneliness this time of year brings.
It has been over a year now since I have been able to drive. In the past year, I have heard people complain about the price of gas, traffic and having to drive across town on errands. In my little mind, I'm saying "are you kidding me?" In not being able to drive, I have lost the ability to do those things. I must depend on someone else if I want to go anywhere. I'm rarely given choices and am usually at the mercy of the person willing to let me tag along, which I am thankful for. But think for a second how you would feel if for a solid year that you only had limited choices of where you could shop, eat, or even spend your spare time? It's another loss that makes me angry.
For most of the past nine months, I have not been allowed to spend any large amount of time alone. In fact, I am only allowed one hour alone on any given day. That hour alone rarely happens and usually is interupted by a phone call halfway through. I am not discounting the effort it takes for those around me to make sure that I am never left alone. But think again how you would feel to not have the ability to have alone time. It is a freedom that many people enjoy without realizing that it is a freedom. I am most angry about this loss.
This year has been full of learning things about myself that I hadn't previously known and most of it has been dark and ugly. I have taken steps backwards by learning that a survivor is someone who has lived through abuse and accepting that I am not yet a survivor. With all that I have learned and all that has happened this year alone, I am not yet a survivor of abuse and I am angry about that.
God tells me right in the bible that I don't just have to be angry about all of these things, I get to hate them and rightfully so. Romans 12:9 says "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil, cling to what is good." My anger is a direct result of the evil that has been done in my life. I get to be angry. I get to hate it! And...I'm guessing if God knows me that well, then He knows that right now I can't cling to anything good. The only hope I have left is that someone else is clinging to the good and will grab my hand before I fall.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
In the simplistic
Oh how I loathe this time of year...
That might sound a little harsh given what the "true meaning" of Christmas is all about. Now that I understand what God did for us by sacrificing His son for us, the birth of Christ is way more important to me. However, I would like to use this as an opportunity to point out a couple key thoughts.
1. Christ likely wasn't born anywhere near December 25th.
2. The Christmas story we see in nativity scenes is not 100% correct.
3. The birth and life of Christ was so significant that we should not need a set time of year to celebrate, it should be celebrated daily in our lives and hearts.
Christmas time tends to bring families together and large groups of friends to share the joy of the season. That's where I get stuck or maybe lost. I have my husband and a few friends. Come time for the actual holiday, all my friends have families of their own and it will be just my husband and I. Having my husband is enough, but is also a painful reminder of our lack of children and loss of family ties. It's also a time of painful memories of what never was in my family.
In trying to find the good in the midst of all the bad, I am holding onto something special this year.
Maybe I'll share later what Christmas' were like for me as a kid. I'll just say that they were far from joyful and far from celebrating anything about Jesus. Although I didn't know it at the time, Jesus had a little toe in my life as a kid.
A neighbor once gave me a snow globe that had a very simple nativity scene and played "O Little Town of Bethlehem." I must admit that I didn't care much about the nativity scene. I loved the song and could get lost for hours in watching the snow. It was an escape from the wild, dangerous world around me.
Like everything that brought a glimpse of joy to my life, my dad hated that snow globe. So that he wasn't able to destroy it as he had threatened, I hid it under books and clothes in my closet. I was able to hold onto my precious snow globe for about four years. On Christmas day when I was about 12, my dad finally followed through on his promise to take a hammer to my snow globe.
It wasn't that he broke a toy, he did that all the time. It was that he stole that little bit of comfort from me that was nearly impossible to find and obviously not something I could hold onto.
A few years ago, I shared that story with my husband. That started a two year hunt for a similar snow globe that had ended with no luck.
A few weeks ago, I shared that story with a friend. I am not sure if she heard the disappointment in my voice or just knew I would need that kind of comfort this year more than ever.
To my amazement and surprise, she found two snow globes with nativity scenes that play the same song. I'm not sure what sent her on the mission, but mission accomplished.
But what she did was more than just give me a gift that I had been searching for over the past few years.
I've spent the last year living in the realization of all the pain that my past has caused and all that others have robbed from me. I walked into this holiday season feeling as though everything....EVERYTHING, including my hope of overcoming all of my obstacles, had been stolen from me.
Now, I find myself sitting at various times with one of those snow globes. Listening to the music and watching the snow, I get lost in a simple joy where nothing is stolen and everything is perfect. It may only last for a few moments, but I hang onto those moments as tightly as I can right now. Those moments are all that will see me through. And all I can bring myself to ask God for in this moment is that He give me the strength to hold onto that simple picture of His love...even if just for a moment when the rest of my life is dark and swallowed up by the remains of evil.
Thank you Roxanne...
That might sound a little harsh given what the "true meaning" of Christmas is all about. Now that I understand what God did for us by sacrificing His son for us, the birth of Christ is way more important to me. However, I would like to use this as an opportunity to point out a couple key thoughts.
1. Christ likely wasn't born anywhere near December 25th.
2. The Christmas story we see in nativity scenes is not 100% correct.
3. The birth and life of Christ was so significant that we should not need a set time of year to celebrate, it should be celebrated daily in our lives and hearts.
Christmas time tends to bring families together and large groups of friends to share the joy of the season. That's where I get stuck or maybe lost. I have my husband and a few friends. Come time for the actual holiday, all my friends have families of their own and it will be just my husband and I. Having my husband is enough, but is also a painful reminder of our lack of children and loss of family ties. It's also a time of painful memories of what never was in my family.
In trying to find the good in the midst of all the bad, I am holding onto something special this year.
Maybe I'll share later what Christmas' were like for me as a kid. I'll just say that they were far from joyful and far from celebrating anything about Jesus. Although I didn't know it at the time, Jesus had a little toe in my life as a kid.
A neighbor once gave me a snow globe that had a very simple nativity scene and played "O Little Town of Bethlehem." I must admit that I didn't care much about the nativity scene. I loved the song and could get lost for hours in watching the snow. It was an escape from the wild, dangerous world around me.
Like everything that brought a glimpse of joy to my life, my dad hated that snow globe. So that he wasn't able to destroy it as he had threatened, I hid it under books and clothes in my closet. I was able to hold onto my precious snow globe for about four years. On Christmas day when I was about 12, my dad finally followed through on his promise to take a hammer to my snow globe.
It wasn't that he broke a toy, he did that all the time. It was that he stole that little bit of comfort from me that was nearly impossible to find and obviously not something I could hold onto.
A few years ago, I shared that story with my husband. That started a two year hunt for a similar snow globe that had ended with no luck.
A few weeks ago, I shared that story with a friend. I am not sure if she heard the disappointment in my voice or just knew I would need that kind of comfort this year more than ever.
To my amazement and surprise, she found two snow globes with nativity scenes that play the same song. I'm not sure what sent her on the mission, but mission accomplished.
But what she did was more than just give me a gift that I had been searching for over the past few years.
I've spent the last year living in the realization of all the pain that my past has caused and all that others have robbed from me. I walked into this holiday season feeling as though everything....EVERYTHING, including my hope of overcoming all of my obstacles, had been stolen from me.
Now, I find myself sitting at various times with one of those snow globes. Listening to the music and watching the snow, I get lost in a simple joy where nothing is stolen and everything is perfect. It may only last for a few moments, but I hang onto those moments as tightly as I can right now. Those moments are all that will see me through. And all I can bring myself to ask God for in this moment is that He give me the strength to hold onto that simple picture of His love...even if just for a moment when the rest of my life is dark and swallowed up by the remains of evil.
Thank you Roxanne...
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
It's been a while...
Yes, it's been a while since I've actually posted on this blog. It isn't from lack of trying. I think I have many drafts that never made it public. Maybe it's because I feel as though my struggles are so documented on my heart and in my mind that I don't need to share them with anyone else.
It becomes more and more difficult to share the whole of my life without sharing the most hidden and dark issues that I carry with me.
While I toil around in my mess, I can see that there is forward motion.
Let me recount the past four years of simple progress seen just in this time of year:
Four years ago, I struggled, limped through the holidays broken-hearted and not understanding why. I also could never imagine stepping foot in a church.
Three years ago, I was involved in a church but barely getting by through this time. My neice and nephew visited over Thanksgiving, giving me a boost through the holidays and I was able to manage...although still heart-broken.
Two years ago, I had absolutely no contact with any family. My fight to just survive the eight week window of the holidays became just that...a fight. Nobody around me nor myself could understand why there was a battle raging inside me that would leave me barely clinging on by my fingertips.
One year ago, pieces of my battle began to unravel and were seen by those closest to me. This would begin a year of discovery for all those close to me and especially for me.
This year....
Last year, my downward spiral was seen by many and the details were revealed to three people. For many months, three people walk through a very tough time of discovery and acceptance. Over the span of six months, a few more people close to me became aware of my illness. Fear kept me from wanting to share with others, which I believe is a natural response to living with this particular illness.
What I learned was that as most of the few learned what I was dealing with, they became more understanding and more compassionate. To my surprise and despite my fear, they were more accepting of my illness than I was.
Now, here I am once again in this volatile time of year. Looking back, I had truly gone through each of the past four years and many more before that almost alone. Even those few who knew of the fight I was going through, none were aware of why.
Just the fact that I don't have to face this time of year alone and that some of those around me understand better how to help me, is a measure of progress that I cannot deny. It is also a measure of God's love for me.
I know that very few people, if any, read this blog and that is ok. It was started for myself, so that I could have a place to come to remind myself of where I have come from, how far I have come and of the end goal. However, whether you know me or not; whether you have read any of my other posts or not; I'd ask that you please pray for those around me.
Please pray for them to continue to love me, even when I make that difficult.
Please pray for them to have grace with me, even when I cannot find my own.
Please pray for them to find patience with me, even when I test their love for me.
Please pray for them to have understanding with me, even when I don't understand myself.
Please pray for them to have strength to fight, even when I have given up.
Please pray for them to continue to allow God to speak and love through them, even when I don't believe.
It is not an over dramatic statement to say my life depends on those around me. A prayer for them is a prayer for me.
It becomes more and more difficult to share the whole of my life without sharing the most hidden and dark issues that I carry with me.
While I toil around in my mess, I can see that there is forward motion.
Let me recount the past four years of simple progress seen just in this time of year:
Four years ago, I struggled, limped through the holidays broken-hearted and not understanding why. I also could never imagine stepping foot in a church.
Three years ago, I was involved in a church but barely getting by through this time. My neice and nephew visited over Thanksgiving, giving me a boost through the holidays and I was able to manage...although still heart-broken.
Two years ago, I had absolutely no contact with any family. My fight to just survive the eight week window of the holidays became just that...a fight. Nobody around me nor myself could understand why there was a battle raging inside me that would leave me barely clinging on by my fingertips.
One year ago, pieces of my battle began to unravel and were seen by those closest to me. This would begin a year of discovery for all those close to me and especially for me.
This year....
Last year, my downward spiral was seen by many and the details were revealed to three people. For many months, three people walk through a very tough time of discovery and acceptance. Over the span of six months, a few more people close to me became aware of my illness. Fear kept me from wanting to share with others, which I believe is a natural response to living with this particular illness.
What I learned was that as most of the few learned what I was dealing with, they became more understanding and more compassionate. To my surprise and despite my fear, they were more accepting of my illness than I was.
Now, here I am once again in this volatile time of year. Looking back, I had truly gone through each of the past four years and many more before that almost alone. Even those few who knew of the fight I was going through, none were aware of why.
Just the fact that I don't have to face this time of year alone and that some of those around me understand better how to help me, is a measure of progress that I cannot deny. It is also a measure of God's love for me.
I know that very few people, if any, read this blog and that is ok. It was started for myself, so that I could have a place to come to remind myself of where I have come from, how far I have come and of the end goal. However, whether you know me or not; whether you have read any of my other posts or not; I'd ask that you please pray for those around me.
Please pray for them to continue to love me, even when I make that difficult.
Please pray for them to have grace with me, even when I cannot find my own.
Please pray for them to find patience with me, even when I test their love for me.
Please pray for them to have understanding with me, even when I don't understand myself.
Please pray for them to have strength to fight, even when I have given up.
Please pray for them to continue to allow God to speak and love through them, even when I don't believe.
It is not an over dramatic statement to say my life depends on those around me. A prayer for them is a prayer for me.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Expectations
It has been a while since my last entry. Obviously, when I am immersed in the battle my life offers me, blogging is furthest from my mind.
After my last entry, I had a friend ask me a question that I felt I needed to reflect on before I could post again. She asked if it was possible that I had set unrealistic expectations for the people around me. By the people around me, she meant my church and the Christians in it.
That was a very thought provoking question and one I felt I needed to spend time considering before moving forward.
To answer the question, in a word....NO!
This past Sunday, I sat in the sanctuary with the service about to begin and I let that question bounce around in my little brain. I sat there staring at the bulletin in my hand. I wasn't sure at that moment. Was it possible that I was the one who had it all wrong? Did I set my expectations too high?
I came from a family who did not care about me. I came from a life where the only thing readily given was a hard time and torture. It has been easy to set expectations of people in my life higher than what I came from. I also don't feel it is that difficult to meet those expectations because they are still set relatively low.
When I came to the church, I didn't believe. I didn't believe God knew me, cared about me or even wanted me there. I believed the same was true of everyone sitting in that church. They didn't care, how could they. There was no way they could care about me, someone who was so far from being like them. I didn't have the same belief as them nor did have my life as put together as they appeared.
Until now, I had never really examined why I had set certain expectations of Christians however, I knew what they were.
My expectations of Christians and those in my church were this. I expected that everyone would love one another and be respectful. I expected that when I hurt, they would genuinely care and want to help. I expected that while some relationships may be difficult, I would no longer be an outsider. I expected that I would be allowed to be honest without judgement.
I know enough about life and people to understand that nobody is perfect and everyone fails at times. To me, those seem like simple expectations with understanding that there will be times when it isn't perfect.
But was I still expecting too much? Was it possible that this church could not meet those expectations? What led me to believe that this church could or would meet those expectations?
Still staring at my bulletin, I decided to scan the pages. As the questions still bounced around my in my head, I caught little of what was in the bulletin until I got near the last page. There it was! I found the answer.
Helping at church, I often update the bulletin. I pick up discarded copies in the pews on Monday mornings. I have read it cover to cover, repeatedly. But there it was, the answer.
The church had set this expectation for me three years ago.
"This is MY commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends." John 15:12-13
This is listed as one of the four "most important" values of my church. There it is written for each member and visitor to read every Sunday. I remember reading this scripture three years ago when I was considering who God was and who these people were sitting in that sanctuary every Sunday.
God commands us to love one another. I remember thinking, WOW...that's exactly what I need. To be with people who are commanded to love one another. If they were commanded to love one another, then they could love me too. I had never felt any other type of love besides that of my husband. While unbelievable, I believed I could be loved in that place.
It was right there in writing, why would I not believe it could be true?
The fact that the church outlined it as an important value, set my expectation.
If I went into a new restaurant, it is assumed that I would be handed a menu. From the menu, I order a steak, baked potato and broccoli. It's right there on the menu, looks wonderful. In fact, my mouth is watering waiting for the waitress to bring my meal. I have done my part by taking an active part in choosing from the menu and being polite to the waitress.
When the plate arrives at the table, it is chicken, rice and beans. What disappointment I must feel to be given something so opposite of what was advertised, offered, and promised. The only explanation the waitress can offer is that the cook was just too busy with his own life to fix the meal as originally advertised. The only apology given is to please excuse him because he is only human and makes mistakes.
I think the same is true of this church and this scripture. They set the expectation, fall short and find every excuse to not live up to what they set as their own standards.
(I have been told that this is a common problem in many churches.)
This is an expectation that was set for me by the church. There are other values listed, but they are probably more suited to take on another day.
Even though I now understand why I have these expectations and I know there is a definite problem, I'm not sure how to go about fixing it. That will be the next thing to work through on this level, I suppose.
After my last entry, I had a friend ask me a question that I felt I needed to reflect on before I could post again. She asked if it was possible that I had set unrealistic expectations for the people around me. By the people around me, she meant my church and the Christians in it.
That was a very thought provoking question and one I felt I needed to spend time considering before moving forward.
To answer the question, in a word....NO!
This past Sunday, I sat in the sanctuary with the service about to begin and I let that question bounce around in my little brain. I sat there staring at the bulletin in my hand. I wasn't sure at that moment. Was it possible that I was the one who had it all wrong? Did I set my expectations too high?
I came from a family who did not care about me. I came from a life where the only thing readily given was a hard time and torture. It has been easy to set expectations of people in my life higher than what I came from. I also don't feel it is that difficult to meet those expectations because they are still set relatively low.
When I came to the church, I didn't believe. I didn't believe God knew me, cared about me or even wanted me there. I believed the same was true of everyone sitting in that church. They didn't care, how could they. There was no way they could care about me, someone who was so far from being like them. I didn't have the same belief as them nor did have my life as put together as they appeared.
Until now, I had never really examined why I had set certain expectations of Christians however, I knew what they were.
My expectations of Christians and those in my church were this. I expected that everyone would love one another and be respectful. I expected that when I hurt, they would genuinely care and want to help. I expected that while some relationships may be difficult, I would no longer be an outsider. I expected that I would be allowed to be honest without judgement.
I know enough about life and people to understand that nobody is perfect and everyone fails at times. To me, those seem like simple expectations with understanding that there will be times when it isn't perfect.
But was I still expecting too much? Was it possible that this church could not meet those expectations? What led me to believe that this church could or would meet those expectations?
Still staring at my bulletin, I decided to scan the pages. As the questions still bounced around my in my head, I caught little of what was in the bulletin until I got near the last page. There it was! I found the answer.
Helping at church, I often update the bulletin. I pick up discarded copies in the pews on Monday mornings. I have read it cover to cover, repeatedly. But there it was, the answer.
The church had set this expectation for me three years ago.
"This is MY commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends." John 15:12-13
This is listed as one of the four "most important" values of my church. There it is written for each member and visitor to read every Sunday. I remember reading this scripture three years ago when I was considering who God was and who these people were sitting in that sanctuary every Sunday.
God commands us to love one another. I remember thinking, WOW...that's exactly what I need. To be with people who are commanded to love one another. If they were commanded to love one another, then they could love me too. I had never felt any other type of love besides that of my husband. While unbelievable, I believed I could be loved in that place.
It was right there in writing, why would I not believe it could be true?
The fact that the church outlined it as an important value, set my expectation.
If I went into a new restaurant, it is assumed that I would be handed a menu. From the menu, I order a steak, baked potato and broccoli. It's right there on the menu, looks wonderful. In fact, my mouth is watering waiting for the waitress to bring my meal. I have done my part by taking an active part in choosing from the menu and being polite to the waitress.
When the plate arrives at the table, it is chicken, rice and beans. What disappointment I must feel to be given something so opposite of what was advertised, offered, and promised. The only explanation the waitress can offer is that the cook was just too busy with his own life to fix the meal as originally advertised. The only apology given is to please excuse him because he is only human and makes mistakes.
I think the same is true of this church and this scripture. They set the expectation, fall short and find every excuse to not live up to what they set as their own standards.
(I have been told that this is a common problem in many churches.)
This is an expectation that was set for me by the church. There are other values listed, but they are probably more suited to take on another day.
Even though I now understand why I have these expectations and I know there is a definite problem, I'm not sure how to go about fixing it. That will be the next thing to work through on this level, I suppose.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Stumbling, Falling Flat On My Face
Try as I might, I can no longer fight back tears...
If you know me at all, you know I have seen evil in many shapes and sizes. Yet, sad to admit, I believe the current evil I fight the most comes in human form and sits in a church pew every Sunday.
Let me say first, I have met some very wonderful people in my home church. There are people who love me and accept me unconditionally. There are people who are willing to walk through the valleys with me and see the glory of God when they get to stand on top of the mountains with me. That is more than I thought possible and certainly more than I ever thought I deserved.
Unfortunately, all my experiences haven't been so wonderful.
I will take 100% of the blame for thinking that someone who presents themselves as a "Good Christian" is exactly that. I am learning that sometimes, people wear that "Good Christian" mask so that nobody can see the dysfunction that is swirling inside them.
It seems as though I keep experiencing this over and over. Here is what I wish I could say to these seasoned Christian women...
Biblically, you have a responsibility to set an example for those new to the faith. I know it is much easier to judge others but it says over and over in the Bible that we are to love one another, including our enemies. When you portray a "Good Christian" but your actions show a cold heart, it muddies the fresh waters where I am learning to swim. When you profess to be in God's Word daily and a model Christian, it sets my expectations of you. My expectations are that you will be a reflection of who you say you are and there will be accountability when you cause others to stumble. Your mask doesn't cover your pain, but it creates pain for others when you cannot contain what's behind the mask. I know I can be a slow learner, but while I'm still learning to swim, it would be great if you could refrain from trying to drown me.
So let's stop condemning each other. Decide instead to live in such a way that you will not cause another believer to stumble and fall. Romans 14:13
The past few years has been a quest to find godly women who are capable and willing to mentor, teach, encourage and love me. I was starved to find those things, famished after 32 years of not having any of that. More than once, I have found those covered by a mask who have caused me to stumble.
If you have ever watched a toddler learning to walk, then you understand how easy it is for them to stumble. In the Kingdom, I believe the same is true of Christians.
As I sit on that verse, I cry. Everything in me is fighting to not be angry. But I cry anyway because it hurts. Not only does it hurt when others cause me to stumble but my heart aches for the next person who cannot see what's behind the mask.
I am led back to a simple prayer I learned very early on...
God, if she's right, then please change my heart. God, if I'm right, then please change her heart.
If you know me at all, you know I have seen evil in many shapes and sizes. Yet, sad to admit, I believe the current evil I fight the most comes in human form and sits in a church pew every Sunday.
Let me say first, I have met some very wonderful people in my home church. There are people who love me and accept me unconditionally. There are people who are willing to walk through the valleys with me and see the glory of God when they get to stand on top of the mountains with me. That is more than I thought possible and certainly more than I ever thought I deserved.
Unfortunately, all my experiences haven't been so wonderful.
I will take 100% of the blame for thinking that someone who presents themselves as a "Good Christian" is exactly that. I am learning that sometimes, people wear that "Good Christian" mask so that nobody can see the dysfunction that is swirling inside them.
It seems as though I keep experiencing this over and over. Here is what I wish I could say to these seasoned Christian women...
Biblically, you have a responsibility to set an example for those new to the faith. I know it is much easier to judge others but it says over and over in the Bible that we are to love one another, including our enemies. When you portray a "Good Christian" but your actions show a cold heart, it muddies the fresh waters where I am learning to swim. When you profess to be in God's Word daily and a model Christian, it sets my expectations of you. My expectations are that you will be a reflection of who you say you are and there will be accountability when you cause others to stumble. Your mask doesn't cover your pain, but it creates pain for others when you cannot contain what's behind the mask. I know I can be a slow learner, but while I'm still learning to swim, it would be great if you could refrain from trying to drown me.
So let's stop condemning each other. Decide instead to live in such a way that you will not cause another believer to stumble and fall. Romans 14:13
The past few years has been a quest to find godly women who are capable and willing to mentor, teach, encourage and love me. I was starved to find those things, famished after 32 years of not having any of that. More than once, I have found those covered by a mask who have caused me to stumble.
If you have ever watched a toddler learning to walk, then you understand how easy it is for them to stumble. In the Kingdom, I believe the same is true of Christians.
As I sit on that verse, I cry. Everything in me is fighting to not be angry. But I cry anyway because it hurts. Not only does it hurt when others cause me to stumble but my heart aches for the next person who cannot see what's behind the mask.
I am led back to a simple prayer I learned very early on...
God, if she's right, then please change my heart. God, if I'm right, then please change her heart.
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