Saturday, March 24, 2012
Friday, April 23, 2010
The Black Widow
Another day
A little more information
It’s more than clear
She’s the Black Widow.
She hides in her web
Rough and sticky
The silk indomitable
to the unwise
Waiting quietly for her prey.
If she’s disturbed or threatened
She’ll rush to bite
But mostly she just lays in wait
For her victim to come to her.
When he’s firmly ensnared
In her inescapable web
She sinks in her teeth
And ever so slowly
Sucks the life right out of him.
By the time the acute pain hits
It’s too late.
She has him and won’t let go.
Cramps, weakness, tremors
As the nervous system comes under attack
He can’t breathe
He’s dizzy
Feels like a heart attack.
She’s the black widow
Her mate wanders in search of her
Unaware that their coupling
Could be his last.
When he has served her purpose
She becomes his executioner,
Insecticide
His greatest fear
Not only does she destroy him
But she devours him as well
Taking everything that is his
Leaving nothing behind.
She may spawn young
Many in fact
But she’s the black widow
And only a few will survive
She is savage, brutal
A cannibal at heart.
Most of her babes
Will never see the light
She has no use for them
Even before they have a chance
They will die
Consumed as if they had no worth.
She is the evil doer
dangerous, poisonous, toxic
She may fool by her hourglass shape
But only a fool will respond.
Blinded by her false appeal
Trapped in her invisible web.
She is notorious
For her bloodthirsty courtship
And yet he is drawn to her.
He doesn’t know why.
Allured by a power
Beyond his understanding.
She is the Black Widow.
A little more information
It’s more than clear
She’s the Black Widow.
She hides in her web
Rough and sticky
The silk indomitable
to the unwise
Waiting quietly for her prey.
If she’s disturbed or threatened
She’ll rush to bite
But mostly she just lays in wait
For her victim to come to her.
When he’s firmly ensnared
In her inescapable web
She sinks in her teeth
And ever so slowly
Sucks the life right out of him.
By the time the acute pain hits
It’s too late.
She has him and won’t let go.
Cramps, weakness, tremors
As the nervous system comes under attack
He can’t breathe
He’s dizzy
Feels like a heart attack.
She’s the black widow
Her mate wanders in search of her
Unaware that their coupling
Could be his last.
When he has served her purpose
She becomes his executioner,
Insecticide
His greatest fear
Not only does she destroy him
But she devours him as well
Taking everything that is his
Leaving nothing behind.
She may spawn young
Many in fact
But she’s the black widow
And only a few will survive
She is savage, brutal
A cannibal at heart.
Most of her babes
Will never see the light
She has no use for them
Even before they have a chance
They will die
Consumed as if they had no worth.
She is the evil doer
dangerous, poisonous, toxic
She may fool by her hourglass shape
But only a fool will respond.
Blinded by her false appeal
Trapped in her invisible web.
She is notorious
For her bloodthirsty courtship
And yet he is drawn to her.
He doesn’t know why.
Allured by a power
Beyond his understanding.
She is the Black Widow.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Surrounded By Death
Surrounded By Death
It is a beautiful Friday morning and I am home sick. I have coughed up at least one lung and the other is just barely hanging in there. Of course, not literally, but it sure feels that way. Along with being sick I am melancholy. I think part of the sadness just comes from not feeling 100%. Being sick throws me off from my normal pattern and therefore, my life falls out of balance. But there are clearly other reasons for the darkness as well.
Yesterday, my friend Wendy was buried. After succumbing to her cancer on Good Friday, she was laid to rest in a beautiful shaded grave at the very cemetery I would like to be buried at. The graves there are so individualized, expressing each persons uniqueness and defining them as their own person. I like that. Many come and leave flowers in remembrance making the place colorful and cheerful in opposition to the very idea of it being a sad place. I was glad her “dear Bernie” picked such a beautiful spot for her. Her children, 3, 5 and 13 will have opportunities to visit their mom, even though her soul is not there. Her memorial place where her body lays will be a place they can go to quietly remember.
It is sad and yet I am elated for her at the same time. She is in heaven, rejoicing. She got to be there on EASTER! What a great day to be in heaven! She reunited with Valera, Candice and Amy and all the others she has known throughout her life that preceded her to the kingdom. She is no longer in pain. She no longer has to worry about anything here on earth. She is with Jesus, living under the brilliant radiance of God’s unfailing, magnificent love. And yet, I miss her already. I miss her daily faith filled updates of her journey with cancer. I miss her positive, ‘I’m going to beat this’ attitude. I miss her wry sense of humor. I miss her smile. I miss her devotion to her girls and to her “dear” Bernie. I miss her.
And missing her reminds me that I miss Candice. And I miss Amy and Valera. And most of all I miss Bill. Who hasn’t died at all, but is gone. The dream has died and I continue to mourn it’s passing.
Also on Good Friday, my friend Kimmie, whose girls, Annabelle and Millie ride on my bus, lost her mother. I hurt for her. Today, she is burying her mother and my heart goes out to her as she grieves.
Monday afternoon, as I jumped in my bus, late, to do my afternoon route, I rushed to pick up my bus aide. I wasn’t paying attention to the radio. As we turned down Northgate headed for Northwest High School we came upon a horrific accident scene. Traffic had come to a halt in both directions. Sirens wailed as emergency vehicle after emergency vehicle flew past us. We knew it was bad. Another small bus sat pulled off the road with her emergency flashers on at the site of the wreck. We could see the driver moving about the scene. She came on the radio hysterical, crying how bad it was and that she needed someone from the office to come right away. We were quite a few cars back in the traffic flow and could see the milling of activity around the scene but could not exactly make out what had happened. My bus aide, a retired pastor, and I began to pray. I prayed for the occupants of the vehicle, not knowing than how many might be involved. I prayed for the emergency workers. And I prayed for the other bus driver who was caught up in a frenzy of panic. 25 minutes passed before we were allowed to pass the accident scene. It was indeed bad. The driver of the crashed SUV had been taken to the hospital still alive but with life threatening injuries. There was debris from the wreck everywhere. A tire had flown off the car, the entire front end was smashed beyond recognition, parts of the 2 trees that he had hit while airborne where all over the road along with various parts of his vehicle. The light pole that had been sheered off at it’s base lay broken, parts flung 300 feet away. After seeing the scene, I couldn’t imagine how anyone could live through it.
I found out later that the 21 year old driver had been traveling at a very high rate of speed. It was a straightaway so I’m not sure what caused him to veer into the median. Speculation would include texting, or possibly just reaching down to grab something, or maybe he just lost control. But when he hit the median, he went airborne, hitting a tree, then sheering off the light pole, hitting another tree and then coming to rest sideways, partways on the median and partways off. The other school bus driver had seen the SUV go airborne and thought he was going to fly into her. No wonder she was so frantic. The driver of the one vehicle accident was ejected at some point while the car was flying through the air. He had lain on the road, his body badly damaged, right in front of the school bus with young preschool children on it.
I learned from a friend at church through a facebook post on Tuesday that this was the son of a friend of hers. The young man I had been praying for had a name. His mom actually went to our church. On Wednesday I had enough information from my friend to be able to pass on the information and an urgent prayer request to Belinda, the care pastor at our church. Along with my news, someone else had sent along a prayer request for the young man as well. The young mans aunt and uncle also attend our church. Wednesday evening, Gary (ICCC lead pastor) and Belinda were able to visit the hospital where the young man had been taken. They arrived to find the family gathered in a waiting room of the ICU, having learned that their precious 21 year old son/cousin/nephew/friend had died two hours prior.
Another young life taken too soon.
I struggle with the why. I struggle with the magnitude. Why so many in so short a period of time? First Gail. Then Valera. And just since the beginning of the year, Candice, Amy, Paul Kendall, an infant son of friends from Breakthrough who died after being born premature, Wendy, Kimmie’s mom, and now this young man. And then there’s that persistant death of my dream of my family being reunited in health. Why? I’m surrounded by death.
I know as with everything else in my life that I can’t question it. I just have to trust that God has a plan and He is God so He knows what He’s doing. I am comforted by the fact that all those who have passed are in such a better place. If I couldn’t believe that I think the grief would be so overwhelming that I just might die in it myself. 2 Corinthians 4:11 says: “Yes, we live under constant danger of death because we serve Jesus, so that the life of Jesus will be evident in our dying bodies.”
I am participating in a bible study at church on Wednesday nights. It is Beth Moore’s Breaking Free study. I have never before experienced something like it. I love it and through the 9 weeks I have participated so far, the bondages and chains that have broken free from my life are miraculous. She talks about loss in Week 5 of the study. I will close with the following thoughts from her.
“Nothing is more natural than grief after a devastating loss, but those of us in Christ can experience satisfying life again. When our hearts have been shattered by loss, we have an opportunity to welcome a supernatural power to our lives. It doesn’t come any other way. That is the power to live again when we’d really rather die. It is a power that displays the life of Christ in us like no other because it defies all odds. God becomes the only explanation for our emotional survival and revival. PERHAPS THE MOST PROFOUND MIRACLE OF ALL IS LIVING THROUGH SOMETHING WE THOUGHT WOULD KILL US. And not just living, but living abundantly and effectively-- raised from living death to a new life. A LIFE INDEED ABSENT OF SOMETHING OR SOMEONE DEAR BUT FILLED WITH THE PRESENCE OF THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE.”
Beth didn’t capitalize those portions of her script but I felt they were so important that I did. May you live today in the comfort of knowing that your grief or loss can and will lead to a greater relationship with Him who loves you unfailingly. That you have been faced with a challenge, albeit forced upon you, to allow the loss to bring gain for Jesus. Any other way will just lead to a greater loss, the most debilitating loss of all, the loss of faith.
Thank you, Jesus, for this challenge today.
It is a beautiful Friday morning and I am home sick. I have coughed up at least one lung and the other is just barely hanging in there. Of course, not literally, but it sure feels that way. Along with being sick I am melancholy. I think part of the sadness just comes from not feeling 100%. Being sick throws me off from my normal pattern and therefore, my life falls out of balance. But there are clearly other reasons for the darkness as well.
Yesterday, my friend Wendy was buried. After succumbing to her cancer on Good Friday, she was laid to rest in a beautiful shaded grave at the very cemetery I would like to be buried at. The graves there are so individualized, expressing each persons uniqueness and defining them as their own person. I like that. Many come and leave flowers in remembrance making the place colorful and cheerful in opposition to the very idea of it being a sad place. I was glad her “dear Bernie” picked such a beautiful spot for her. Her children, 3, 5 and 13 will have opportunities to visit their mom, even though her soul is not there. Her memorial place where her body lays will be a place they can go to quietly remember.
It is sad and yet I am elated for her at the same time. She is in heaven, rejoicing. She got to be there on EASTER! What a great day to be in heaven! She reunited with Valera, Candice and Amy and all the others she has known throughout her life that preceded her to the kingdom. She is no longer in pain. She no longer has to worry about anything here on earth. She is with Jesus, living under the brilliant radiance of God’s unfailing, magnificent love. And yet, I miss her already. I miss her daily faith filled updates of her journey with cancer. I miss her positive, ‘I’m going to beat this’ attitude. I miss her wry sense of humor. I miss her smile. I miss her devotion to her girls and to her “dear” Bernie. I miss her.
And missing her reminds me that I miss Candice. And I miss Amy and Valera. And most of all I miss Bill. Who hasn’t died at all, but is gone. The dream has died and I continue to mourn it’s passing.
Also on Good Friday, my friend Kimmie, whose girls, Annabelle and Millie ride on my bus, lost her mother. I hurt for her. Today, she is burying her mother and my heart goes out to her as she grieves.
Monday afternoon, as I jumped in my bus, late, to do my afternoon route, I rushed to pick up my bus aide. I wasn’t paying attention to the radio. As we turned down Northgate headed for Northwest High School we came upon a horrific accident scene. Traffic had come to a halt in both directions. Sirens wailed as emergency vehicle after emergency vehicle flew past us. We knew it was bad. Another small bus sat pulled off the road with her emergency flashers on at the site of the wreck. We could see the driver moving about the scene. She came on the radio hysterical, crying how bad it was and that she needed someone from the office to come right away. We were quite a few cars back in the traffic flow and could see the milling of activity around the scene but could not exactly make out what had happened. My bus aide, a retired pastor, and I began to pray. I prayed for the occupants of the vehicle, not knowing than how many might be involved. I prayed for the emergency workers. And I prayed for the other bus driver who was caught up in a frenzy of panic. 25 minutes passed before we were allowed to pass the accident scene. It was indeed bad. The driver of the crashed SUV had been taken to the hospital still alive but with life threatening injuries. There was debris from the wreck everywhere. A tire had flown off the car, the entire front end was smashed beyond recognition, parts of the 2 trees that he had hit while airborne where all over the road along with various parts of his vehicle. The light pole that had been sheered off at it’s base lay broken, parts flung 300 feet away. After seeing the scene, I couldn’t imagine how anyone could live through it.
I found out later that the 21 year old driver had been traveling at a very high rate of speed. It was a straightaway so I’m not sure what caused him to veer into the median. Speculation would include texting, or possibly just reaching down to grab something, or maybe he just lost control. But when he hit the median, he went airborne, hitting a tree, then sheering off the light pole, hitting another tree and then coming to rest sideways, partways on the median and partways off. The other school bus driver had seen the SUV go airborne and thought he was going to fly into her. No wonder she was so frantic. The driver of the one vehicle accident was ejected at some point while the car was flying through the air. He had lain on the road, his body badly damaged, right in front of the school bus with young preschool children on it.
I learned from a friend at church through a facebook post on Tuesday that this was the son of a friend of hers. The young man I had been praying for had a name. His mom actually went to our church. On Wednesday I had enough information from my friend to be able to pass on the information and an urgent prayer request to Belinda, the care pastor at our church. Along with my news, someone else had sent along a prayer request for the young man as well. The young mans aunt and uncle also attend our church. Wednesday evening, Gary (ICCC lead pastor) and Belinda were able to visit the hospital where the young man had been taken. They arrived to find the family gathered in a waiting room of the ICU, having learned that their precious 21 year old son/cousin/nephew/friend had died two hours prior.
Another young life taken too soon.
I struggle with the why. I struggle with the magnitude. Why so many in so short a period of time? First Gail. Then Valera. And just since the beginning of the year, Candice, Amy, Paul Kendall, an infant son of friends from Breakthrough who died after being born premature, Wendy, Kimmie’s mom, and now this young man. And then there’s that persistant death of my dream of my family being reunited in health. Why? I’m surrounded by death.
I know as with everything else in my life that I can’t question it. I just have to trust that God has a plan and He is God so He knows what He’s doing. I am comforted by the fact that all those who have passed are in such a better place. If I couldn’t believe that I think the grief would be so overwhelming that I just might die in it myself. 2 Corinthians 4:11 says: “Yes, we live under constant danger of death because we serve Jesus, so that the life of Jesus will be evident in our dying bodies.”
I am participating in a bible study at church on Wednesday nights. It is Beth Moore’s Breaking Free study. I have never before experienced something like it. I love it and through the 9 weeks I have participated so far, the bondages and chains that have broken free from my life are miraculous. She talks about loss in Week 5 of the study. I will close with the following thoughts from her.
“Nothing is more natural than grief after a devastating loss, but those of us in Christ can experience satisfying life again. When our hearts have been shattered by loss, we have an opportunity to welcome a supernatural power to our lives. It doesn’t come any other way. That is the power to live again when we’d really rather die. It is a power that displays the life of Christ in us like no other because it defies all odds. God becomes the only explanation for our emotional survival and revival. PERHAPS THE MOST PROFOUND MIRACLE OF ALL IS LIVING THROUGH SOMETHING WE THOUGHT WOULD KILL US. And not just living, but living abundantly and effectively-- raised from living death to a new life. A LIFE INDEED ABSENT OF SOMETHING OR SOMEONE DEAR BUT FILLED WITH THE PRESENCE OF THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE.”
Beth didn’t capitalize those portions of her script but I felt they were so important that I did. May you live today in the comfort of knowing that your grief or loss can and will lead to a greater relationship with Him who loves you unfailingly. That you have been faced with a challenge, albeit forced upon you, to allow the loss to bring gain for Jesus. Any other way will just lead to a greater loss, the most debilitating loss of all, the loss of faith.
Thank you, Jesus, for this challenge today.
Friday, February 19, 2010
The Puppeteer's Commands and Demands
The Puppeteer's
Commands and Demands
For the Puppet
-You must run any music you want to add to your Ipod by me before you load it. I need to make sure it is appropriate.
-You are not allowed to communicate with your ex girlfriend unless I am present.
-You are not allowed to see or communicate with your ex girlfriend’s children.
-You are not allowed to communicate with your ex wife except in matters pertaining to your children. Even then it must be very limited and it must be approved, edited or written by me. Responses to questions she asks are not necessary. Any attempt by her towards friendship or a civil relationship will be ignored.
-You may not have any friends that I do not approve of.
-You must open all doors for me. I will wait in the car or by the door if you forget until you return and open it for me.
-You must give up hobbies that I don’t approve of. For instance, you are no longer allowed to enjoy Nascar. I find the sport loud and distasteful.
-If you have memorabilia relating to such hobbies, you must rid yourself of that clutter.
-You are not allowed to go to your favorite restaurant, Texas Roadhouse. It is too loud in there.
-You may not go bowling, it is too loud.
-You may not watch TV. It fills your mind with junk and is not necessary. Nor are you allowed to let your children watch TV when they are with you.
-You must accompany me at my every whim. If I demand for you to be by my side, you must obey.
-You may not spend money on anything that is not approved by me.
-You may not entertain your children any longer with trips to do things and especially if it costs you monetarily. They do not respect you and do not deserve it.
-You must find me cute when I obnoxiously yell at your son’s sporting events, embarrassing him and his teammates.
-You must attend every group I instruct you to go to. You must attend religiously and faithfully. You may not pick your own groups, you must go to the ones I pick for you.
-You may not help your children out with needless activities that are scheduled out of your control on your weekends with them. Examples include sitting with them so they can raise money for Camp Fire. Allowing them to attend birthday parties or church functions (unless of course, they are for my church).
-You may not, under any circumstance, help your ex wife out financially beyond what is spelled out in the divorce agreement.
-You may not perform any Godly acts for her to help her out either. She can find someone else to do needed repairs around the house.
-I will be allowed to discipline your children at any time and in any way as I see fit.
-Your children will not be allowed cell phones, they are too young.
-You may not leave your children home alone even though by law they are old enough for you to do so. I believe they are too young. If for some stupid reason you make a serious error in judgment and leave them home, I will call them every 10 minutes on the second to check in on them. You are to instruct them if they do not pick up the phone when I call that you will impose serious consequences.
-You will not help with your children’s activities during the week or spend any time with them during the week. You will be too busy in the groups I have assigned you.
-(Assumed) You will study your bible religiously every day. You will spend xx number of minutes/hours in prayer. You will not deter from your schedule. You must obey the laws of God or He will strike you down. It’s all about performance. And you will perform to what I perceive to be HIS standards.
-(Assumed) You must worship with overwhelming joy in church no matter how you feel. It’s all about performance and you must perform up to the standards expected of you. If you don’t, God will be displeased with you and He will punish you. And I will definitely be displeased with you.
-If for any reason, you run into your ex-wife at your child’s school for something like lunch, you may not stay if she is eating with her child as well. I will demand to go with you on occasion to make sure you are following this rule. You must not be in her company under any circumstances. She is a sinner.
-When you do not do what I want and I rightfully become angry with you, I will not talk to you. Or I will storm out. Or I will push you and become physical. You will not retaliate in any way.
-You may not eat red meat any longer. You must not eat chicken with the skin on. It also must be grilled or baked. You may not drink skim milk as it is bad for you. You must drink soy milk instead. You may not eat peanuts, they are bad for you. You must follow my dietary guidelines.
-You will not visit your family without me.
-Any attempts by anyone to get you out of this relationship with me will be immediately squashed. All of those people who act like they are interested in your best interests are being led by Satan. Do not pay attention to them. Only listen to me. I know what is best for you.
-You are not to ever be stronger than I am spiritually. You must continue to work towards my level of spirituality but never surpass me.
-You must allow me to make up for the mistakes I made with my own children which resulted in my loss of custody of them with your children.
For the puppet’s children
-You must obey your father even if you find his demands unreasonable.
-You must respect your father whether he deserves it or not.
-You must respect me and obey my commands.
-You will not watch TV. It is not good for you and pollutes your mind with junk. It is also sinful.
-You may not play football in the house or in any way act like boys. I do not like it when you play football in the house.
-You must open all doors for me. I demand this respect. If you do not I will stand there or sit in the car until you do.
-You must stand up, wave your arms, sing and act like you are enjoying yourself when we attend worship and praise at church. You are not allowed to sit down through this. It’s all about performance. You must perform for God or He will be displeased with you and you will be punished.
-You must not mess up my apartment in any way. If you do, there will be consequences. You may not drop anything on the carpet, leave smudges in the bathroom, etc. You will treat my living space with the same respect I expect from you.
-You will keep the space you have at your father’s house neat and tidy at all times. If at any time, it is not obsessively neat and clean, you will spend hours cleaning it until it is.
For the puppet’s ex-wife
-You will not have a beer or glass of wine on occasion. It is a sin. I have instructed your children in the wrongness of your actions.
-You will not schedule any activities for your children on the weekends they spend with their father. He has plans for them to sit in their rooms and clean and obey and learn how to respect him. These plans are much more important than any life they may have outside of their quantity time with their dad.
Please note: This exhaustive list of do’s and don’ts is incomplete. As I sink my claws deeper into you and brain wash you and your kids even more towards my twisted views of life, I will add more and more impossible rules. The list for your ex-wife is definitely incomplete. I’ve just started on that one. I will find ways to belittle her through her children and therefore impose rules on her that she will have no control over. I am the master… the master puppeteer and you will obey my every command, my every tug of the string. You will move when I move you. I will do your thinking for you… no need for you to even attempt it. I will pull you out when I need you and tuck you away in your storage box when I don’t. You are my puppet. Don’t forget it!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Anger and Emow
Anger. It’s like a smoking, smoldering pile of debris that suddenly and forcefully bursts into a huge ball of flames, threatening to devour and destroy everything in it’s path. Yet it is a necessary stage of mourning. Personally, I hate anger because anger produces hate. At least that has been my experience in the past and now in the present. I don’t like to feel consumed by an emotion. I don’t like to feel like it can burst forth like fire at any moment with just the right amount of fuel.
But no doubt about it, that is exactly where I am right now. Angry!
I went off to Knoxville and shared a wonderful visit with my sister, my dad and his wife for my sister’s 50th birthday. It was a much needed, although short, jaunt away from home… and with no kids! But Bill didn’t make it easy. He has said and done some very hurtful things towards the boys and I had to scramble to find an alternate plan for Chris the weekend I was gone because Bill told him he did not want him there that weekend. Chris was able to go to a retreat at church so that helped. But he was with his dad Sunday night as I didn’t fly back until Monday.
When I returned, Chris told me how his dad had blown up at him Sunday night because Chris was fighting with his brother. He sent him to his room and to bed early and Chris was unable to make the cupcakes he was supposed to make for CampFire. Chris acted out all week and I even got a call from one of his teachers saying Chris was behaving somewhat violently in his class. In the meantime, Bill called me and talked to me like we were old friends or something. After the conversation, the anger hit… full force. How dare him talk to me like I’m his friend. I don’t like him, as a matter of fact, hate would be closer to how I feel. Hate expresses emotion and just like anger is a symptom of hurt.
Later in the week, I was talking with the boys when they told me that their dad had made them sit and watch while he formally asked Alicia to marry him the previous Sunday. Chris’ behavior that week suddenly made sense. Chris and I were able to have a good long talk about his feelings towards the whole thing after that and he calmed down. But I was incensed. First that Bill would expect them to feel the same joy that he felt about everything. Second that he didn’t even consider the fact that something like that might not be what his sons wanted too and that he couldn’t recognize his own son acting out of his own disappointment at his dad’s selfish acts once again. Third that he went out and bought her a diamond ring while I can’t afford to go grocery shopping right now.
I also learned that they set a date. July 12. Which is a Monday. And which is also my brother’s birthday. It makes me sick that they would so callously pick a date that means something to me and ruin it for forevermore. Chris has since told me that he told his dad that was my brother’s birthday and that I wished they would pick a different date and Bill said he didn’t care. He doesn’t care about much these days, except her and himself.
Since then, the boys have spent another weekend with him during which time he said several hateful hurtful things. On Sunday, he blew up at Chris, threw him across the room and tried to spank him. Of course, none of this ever happens when she is around. Only when the boys are alone with him. When he dropped them off, early, he told Chris that he could keep lying to me about what was happening, that he didn’t really care anymore. Like I said, he doesn’t care about much these days. And I know Chris may exaggerate a bit but I also know Bill and I know he is capable of using anger to control the boys. And I know he’s abusive.
So anyway, back to MY anger. Every time I hear about him or her or them it just rekindles whatever I have managed to tamper down. Last week they spent a week in Florida while I tried to figure out how to pay bills with a negative checking account. And he bought her a gift for their 3 month anniversary. How sweet. I celebrated the same anniversary because I was with him the day of their first date and he was lying to me. Treating me like everything was fine between us, taking me down a road of deceit and betrayal. He celebrated with gifts and kisses. I celebrated with tears. Sounds fair to me.
But the thing that makes me the most angry is the way they have convinced themselves and the boys and probably all their friends and family that God orchestrated their meeting and it is His will for them to be together. And this has been my downfall the past couple of weeks. Slick managed to get a foothold and started working on me. What if that’s true? What if God put them together? Doesn’t that mean then that God intentionally hurt me? And if God intentionally hurt me, that makes me mad. He isn’t who I thought and that means I can’t trust Him either. And if I can’t trust Him, then that’s it, I’m done. There is no where else to turn. I spiraled downwards with the thoughts and lies and ended up in a place where all I could do was protect myself with a wall of steel. But it wasn’t steel because I was still hurting and I was still crying and I was/am angry and I was/am hurt and I was/am wondering if I will ever feel good again.
In the meantime, my finances have been in a mess. I can’t pay my bills. I can’t tithe. I have to charge the groceries and any other necessities. Some bills are now overdue. I fell into a hole and am having a heck of a time getting out. Chris needed new shoes very badly. Not only did I not have time the week before last to get them but I couldn’t afford them. I sent him to his dad’s hoping his dad would help out and buy him some shoes. He did, but not without making it clear that “he didn’t care if I didn’t have the money to buy Chris new shoes, I should have done it anyway!”
On Sunday, this all became too much. I felt humiliated that I was at this place of financial struggle…again! AGAIN! I was angry with God, with myself and with Bill. I was angry that I had to feel angry again. I’ve done this once already with Bill. I was able to forgive him but it took a long time. Now, I’m back to this place of unforgiveness and don’t see any possibility of a pardon any time soon. All I could think was that all of it is a big joke. A big joke on me.
I found myself sobbing through the service. A service about generosity. I thought about how much I would LIKE to be generous. How much I would like to be able to give away my money, help those who are in a tight place. Not be the one who needs the help, more than ever before. During communion, I found myself walking down to the prayer partners, without a clue of what I wanted to say. All I could do was sit there and cry. Finally, I admitted my shame of having to come up and ask for help. My shame of not being able to feed my kids without going farther into debt. My anger at God for being in this position. I’ve always trusted that I would be ok in the financial department and even though there have been some really tough times, I have always been ok in the financial department. I just trusted God would take care of it.
Now I was feeling like He had abandoned me, that I couldn’t hear His voice, I couldn’t reach Him. That all He was doing was taking things away from me. The love of my life, my security, my trust, my joy. I felt myself falling into a pit of despair, or perhaps I already had. I admitted my utter despair at losing Bill (again) and the anger that has followed at the way he has treated his boys and me, the anger of his ultimate and damaging betrayal, my anger at the unfairness of it all. I spit all this out between sobs, and I have no idea if the prayer partners even understood what I said. It didn’t matter, God did and He heard me.
I don’t understand what is happening right now. I don’t understand this heartache and this trial I am experiencing. I don’t understand why enough isn’t enough. How much do I have to take? I don’t understand why I don’t feel like I can reach God right now. Why He is so silent. Perhaps He’s doing work elsewhere, behind the scenes and I just need to be obedient and trusting. I’m trying, He knows I’m trying. But I’ve also failed. I let Satan get his foot wedged in the door and then he worked it and worked it until he’d pried the door wide open. I’m working hard to slam the door in his face!
Several things happened after the service on Sunday that let me know that God did hear me even though it wasn’t an earth shattering revelation of that knowledge. But it was enough for me to know He hasn’t abandoned me. That He is there. That he can hear me when I talk to Him. That He is at work. It was just enough for me to realize the lies that I had listened to, just enough for me to know that I can’t give up, just enough for me to trust only Him for right now. And wait. Wait. Wait.
I saw a friend that I hadn’t seen in a long time and had been thinking about very recently, wondering how she was doing. She told me about how my sharing of my time and heart had meant so much to so many. She couldn’t possibly have known how much I needed to hear that. While I was talking to her, another friend came up and pressed a bill into my hand. She said that God told her to give it to me and she didn’t know why. She thanked me for being such a great table leader in Alpha. She couldn’t have possibly known I was going to the pet store after I left church to buy flea medicine for my cats and I didn’t have the money. I was going to have to charge it. My son Jesse had found a kitten a week + earlier in the storm drain (story to follow). He was infested with fleas and our indoor kitty, Tiffany (Valera’s kitty) had picked them up as well. She couldn’t have known that the medicine would cost me exactly $1.62 more than the $50 she had pressed into my hand. One less thing I had to worry about. Later I talked to a friend online and was able to share my heart with her a little bit. When she signed off, she said I love you. She couldn’t have known how much I needed to hear that.
God was listening and He was letting me know it… through a series of small encounters. And He was answering me in a way I never would have considered. It was like He was the one speaking and doing through my friends. He does use us as vessels, doesn’t He? He reminded me that I don’t have to be rich to be generous. I give with my time. I give of my heart. I love. And I care. I don’t have to give my negative checking balance away to be generous. All I have to do is keep trying to live the life of freedom He wants for me.
Even though I still had to go out and charge my groceries, even though my bills still sit in a pile unpaid, even though my ex is still on the warpath, even though my kids are still suffering the effects of their dad’s abuse, I can know that God will see me (and them) through. Even when the light is dim and it seems to be growing dimmer. God is there. I can’t say I feel wonderful. I can’t say I feel the joy I’ve been missing. I can’t say I’m at peace. I still hurt. I still worry about the money. I’m still angry. I still can’t forgive. But I know I’m not walking the path alone. God loves me! He loves me! And He will see me through.
Before I go, I wanted to share the kitten story with you. For weeks before Jesse found Emow, I kept seeing black cats. I decided that when I saw a black cat it was a sign of luck for me, that things were going to turn around. Of course we are all aware that a black cat crossing your path is considered bad luck. But I was determined to think just the opposite, especially since I was seeing so many black cats. Then one day I got home from work and Jesse excitedly leads me through the house to show me something. I see something tiny dart up the stairs. He followed it up and carries down a darling cute, jet black kitten. Not a spot of color on him. He is meowing pitifully, crying and then purring and talking to us when we held him. Jesse says they have already named him Emow. I said what does that mean and he says it means meow. (Later, I found out the older kids called him emo, short for emotional, because he was so vocal!) So the name stuck.
We tried to return Emow to the storm drain, thinking that mommy may have actually had him down there. He didn’t want to have anything to do with that and followed the boys back home meowing loudly the whole way. Then we put up signs claiming our find and offering him for adoption if no one claimed him. No one called. Emow cried whenever he didn’t know where we were. He slept curled up by Jesse’s neck the first night and curled up by mine the following two while the boys were at their dads. He was the sweetest little baby kitten (actually we thought ‘he’ was a ‘she’). Around midweek we had a message on the machine about a possible lost kitten from a litter someone’s momma kitty had recently had. We called the number back at the end of the week and found out quickly that Emow had probably come from the litter. The person lived quite a ways away so we found out the story of how Emow had come to be in the storm drain.
Momma kitty was actually a stray who hung out around this person’s house. They left food for her on the porch. She had several litters of kittens. The latest litter had been born in an old car on the first day of school, 3 babies. One day, just a couple of days before we found Emow, the mom was rushing to take her daughter to school. She jumped in the car and rushed off. Unfortunately, two of the kittens had climbed up into the underside of the engine. One was killed. The other was apparently thrown free of the car (or jumped, who knows) into the storm drain where Jesse found him, a mile or so from where they had started their journey. A neighbor who lived by the storm drain had said they had heard the kitten crying for a couple of days and thought he was stuck down there. The mom had no idea what had happened to the kitten but hoped that he had made it and that someone had found him and taken him in. Sure enough, someone had!
Because it didn’t sound like they were going to try real hard to find the kitten a home and would possibly let it become a ferrel cat, we decided to keep Emow. And really, how couldn’t we after that story. Emow IS lucky! We found out they had called him Orion after the constellation. So now Emow’s official name is Lucky Emow Orion Govero (nickname Emow). He’s still sweet as can be but has stopped crying and fits right in our crazy family of too many kitties. He is playful and well adjusted. And now, because someone listened to God, he is rid of his fleas! And when I think about it, I know that God put the thought in my head that black cats are lucky. Otherwise, this story wouldn’t mean quite so much. It was just another way that God was able to say, “Wow, look how generous you are, opening your home to yet another cat when you already have so many. I knew I could count on you to take care of my living, breathing, loved creature. Thank you!”
And so life continues….
But no doubt about it, that is exactly where I am right now. Angry!
I went off to Knoxville and shared a wonderful visit with my sister, my dad and his wife for my sister’s 50th birthday. It was a much needed, although short, jaunt away from home… and with no kids! But Bill didn’t make it easy. He has said and done some very hurtful things towards the boys and I had to scramble to find an alternate plan for Chris the weekend I was gone because Bill told him he did not want him there that weekend. Chris was able to go to a retreat at church so that helped. But he was with his dad Sunday night as I didn’t fly back until Monday.
When I returned, Chris told me how his dad had blown up at him Sunday night because Chris was fighting with his brother. He sent him to his room and to bed early and Chris was unable to make the cupcakes he was supposed to make for CampFire. Chris acted out all week and I even got a call from one of his teachers saying Chris was behaving somewhat violently in his class. In the meantime, Bill called me and talked to me like we were old friends or something. After the conversation, the anger hit… full force. How dare him talk to me like I’m his friend. I don’t like him, as a matter of fact, hate would be closer to how I feel. Hate expresses emotion and just like anger is a symptom of hurt.
Later in the week, I was talking with the boys when they told me that their dad had made them sit and watch while he formally asked Alicia to marry him the previous Sunday. Chris’ behavior that week suddenly made sense. Chris and I were able to have a good long talk about his feelings towards the whole thing after that and he calmed down. But I was incensed. First that Bill would expect them to feel the same joy that he felt about everything. Second that he didn’t even consider the fact that something like that might not be what his sons wanted too and that he couldn’t recognize his own son acting out of his own disappointment at his dad’s selfish acts once again. Third that he went out and bought her a diamond ring while I can’t afford to go grocery shopping right now.
I also learned that they set a date. July 12. Which is a Monday. And which is also my brother’s birthday. It makes me sick that they would so callously pick a date that means something to me and ruin it for forevermore. Chris has since told me that he told his dad that was my brother’s birthday and that I wished they would pick a different date and Bill said he didn’t care. He doesn’t care about much these days, except her and himself.
Since then, the boys have spent another weekend with him during which time he said several hateful hurtful things. On Sunday, he blew up at Chris, threw him across the room and tried to spank him. Of course, none of this ever happens when she is around. Only when the boys are alone with him. When he dropped them off, early, he told Chris that he could keep lying to me about what was happening, that he didn’t really care anymore. Like I said, he doesn’t care about much these days. And I know Chris may exaggerate a bit but I also know Bill and I know he is capable of using anger to control the boys. And I know he’s abusive.
So anyway, back to MY anger. Every time I hear about him or her or them it just rekindles whatever I have managed to tamper down. Last week they spent a week in Florida while I tried to figure out how to pay bills with a negative checking account. And he bought her a gift for their 3 month anniversary. How sweet. I celebrated the same anniversary because I was with him the day of their first date and he was lying to me. Treating me like everything was fine between us, taking me down a road of deceit and betrayal. He celebrated with gifts and kisses. I celebrated with tears. Sounds fair to me.
But the thing that makes me the most angry is the way they have convinced themselves and the boys and probably all their friends and family that God orchestrated their meeting and it is His will for them to be together. And this has been my downfall the past couple of weeks. Slick managed to get a foothold and started working on me. What if that’s true? What if God put them together? Doesn’t that mean then that God intentionally hurt me? And if God intentionally hurt me, that makes me mad. He isn’t who I thought and that means I can’t trust Him either. And if I can’t trust Him, then that’s it, I’m done. There is no where else to turn. I spiraled downwards with the thoughts and lies and ended up in a place where all I could do was protect myself with a wall of steel. But it wasn’t steel because I was still hurting and I was still crying and I was/am angry and I was/am hurt and I was/am wondering if I will ever feel good again.
In the meantime, my finances have been in a mess. I can’t pay my bills. I can’t tithe. I have to charge the groceries and any other necessities. Some bills are now overdue. I fell into a hole and am having a heck of a time getting out. Chris needed new shoes very badly. Not only did I not have time the week before last to get them but I couldn’t afford them. I sent him to his dad’s hoping his dad would help out and buy him some shoes. He did, but not without making it clear that “he didn’t care if I didn’t have the money to buy Chris new shoes, I should have done it anyway!”
On Sunday, this all became too much. I felt humiliated that I was at this place of financial struggle…again! AGAIN! I was angry with God, with myself and with Bill. I was angry that I had to feel angry again. I’ve done this once already with Bill. I was able to forgive him but it took a long time. Now, I’m back to this place of unforgiveness and don’t see any possibility of a pardon any time soon. All I could think was that all of it is a big joke. A big joke on me.
I found myself sobbing through the service. A service about generosity. I thought about how much I would LIKE to be generous. How much I would like to be able to give away my money, help those who are in a tight place. Not be the one who needs the help, more than ever before. During communion, I found myself walking down to the prayer partners, without a clue of what I wanted to say. All I could do was sit there and cry. Finally, I admitted my shame of having to come up and ask for help. My shame of not being able to feed my kids without going farther into debt. My anger at God for being in this position. I’ve always trusted that I would be ok in the financial department and even though there have been some really tough times, I have always been ok in the financial department. I just trusted God would take care of it.
Now I was feeling like He had abandoned me, that I couldn’t hear His voice, I couldn’t reach Him. That all He was doing was taking things away from me. The love of my life, my security, my trust, my joy. I felt myself falling into a pit of despair, or perhaps I already had. I admitted my utter despair at losing Bill (again) and the anger that has followed at the way he has treated his boys and me, the anger of his ultimate and damaging betrayal, my anger at the unfairness of it all. I spit all this out between sobs, and I have no idea if the prayer partners even understood what I said. It didn’t matter, God did and He heard me.
I don’t understand what is happening right now. I don’t understand this heartache and this trial I am experiencing. I don’t understand why enough isn’t enough. How much do I have to take? I don’t understand why I don’t feel like I can reach God right now. Why He is so silent. Perhaps He’s doing work elsewhere, behind the scenes and I just need to be obedient and trusting. I’m trying, He knows I’m trying. But I’ve also failed. I let Satan get his foot wedged in the door and then he worked it and worked it until he’d pried the door wide open. I’m working hard to slam the door in his face!
Several things happened after the service on Sunday that let me know that God did hear me even though it wasn’t an earth shattering revelation of that knowledge. But it was enough for me to know He hasn’t abandoned me. That He is there. That he can hear me when I talk to Him. That He is at work. It was just enough for me to realize the lies that I had listened to, just enough for me to know that I can’t give up, just enough for me to trust only Him for right now. And wait. Wait. Wait.
I saw a friend that I hadn’t seen in a long time and had been thinking about very recently, wondering how she was doing. She told me about how my sharing of my time and heart had meant so much to so many. She couldn’t possibly have known how much I needed to hear that. While I was talking to her, another friend came up and pressed a bill into my hand. She said that God told her to give it to me and she didn’t know why. She thanked me for being such a great table leader in Alpha. She couldn’t have possibly known I was going to the pet store after I left church to buy flea medicine for my cats and I didn’t have the money. I was going to have to charge it. My son Jesse had found a kitten a week + earlier in the storm drain (story to follow). He was infested with fleas and our indoor kitty, Tiffany (Valera’s kitty) had picked them up as well. She couldn’t have known that the medicine would cost me exactly $1.62 more than the $50 she had pressed into my hand. One less thing I had to worry about. Later I talked to a friend online and was able to share my heart with her a little bit. When she signed off, she said I love you. She couldn’t have known how much I needed to hear that.
God was listening and He was letting me know it… through a series of small encounters. And He was answering me in a way I never would have considered. It was like He was the one speaking and doing through my friends. He does use us as vessels, doesn’t He? He reminded me that I don’t have to be rich to be generous. I give with my time. I give of my heart. I love. And I care. I don’t have to give my negative checking balance away to be generous. All I have to do is keep trying to live the life of freedom He wants for me.
Even though I still had to go out and charge my groceries, even though my bills still sit in a pile unpaid, even though my ex is still on the warpath, even though my kids are still suffering the effects of their dad’s abuse, I can know that God will see me (and them) through. Even when the light is dim and it seems to be growing dimmer. God is there. I can’t say I feel wonderful. I can’t say I feel the joy I’ve been missing. I can’t say I’m at peace. I still hurt. I still worry about the money. I’m still angry. I still can’t forgive. But I know I’m not walking the path alone. God loves me! He loves me! And He will see me through.
Before I go, I wanted to share the kitten story with you. For weeks before Jesse found Emow, I kept seeing black cats. I decided that when I saw a black cat it was a sign of luck for me, that things were going to turn around. Of course we are all aware that a black cat crossing your path is considered bad luck. But I was determined to think just the opposite, especially since I was seeing so many black cats. Then one day I got home from work and Jesse excitedly leads me through the house to show me something. I see something tiny dart up the stairs. He followed it up and carries down a darling cute, jet black kitten. Not a spot of color on him. He is meowing pitifully, crying and then purring and talking to us when we held him. Jesse says they have already named him Emow. I said what does that mean and he says it means meow. (Later, I found out the older kids called him emo, short for emotional, because he was so vocal!) So the name stuck.
We tried to return Emow to the storm drain, thinking that mommy may have actually had him down there. He didn’t want to have anything to do with that and followed the boys back home meowing loudly the whole way. Then we put up signs claiming our find and offering him for adoption if no one claimed him. No one called. Emow cried whenever he didn’t know where we were. He slept curled up by Jesse’s neck the first night and curled up by mine the following two while the boys were at their dads. He was the sweetest little baby kitten (actually we thought ‘he’ was a ‘she’). Around midweek we had a message on the machine about a possible lost kitten from a litter someone’s momma kitty had recently had. We called the number back at the end of the week and found out quickly that Emow had probably come from the litter. The person lived quite a ways away so we found out the story of how Emow had come to be in the storm drain.
Momma kitty was actually a stray who hung out around this person’s house. They left food for her on the porch. She had several litters of kittens. The latest litter had been born in an old car on the first day of school, 3 babies. One day, just a couple of days before we found Emow, the mom was rushing to take her daughter to school. She jumped in the car and rushed off. Unfortunately, two of the kittens had climbed up into the underside of the engine. One was killed. The other was apparently thrown free of the car (or jumped, who knows) into the storm drain where Jesse found him, a mile or so from where they had started their journey. A neighbor who lived by the storm drain had said they had heard the kitten crying for a couple of days and thought he was stuck down there. The mom had no idea what had happened to the kitten but hoped that he had made it and that someone had found him and taken him in. Sure enough, someone had!
Because it didn’t sound like they were going to try real hard to find the kitten a home and would possibly let it become a ferrel cat, we decided to keep Emow. And really, how couldn’t we after that story. Emow IS lucky! We found out they had called him Orion after the constellation. So now Emow’s official name is Lucky Emow Orion Govero (nickname Emow). He’s still sweet as can be but has stopped crying and fits right in our crazy family of too many kitties. He is playful and well adjusted. And now, because someone listened to God, he is rid of his fleas! And when I think about it, I know that God put the thought in my head that black cats are lucky. Otherwise, this story wouldn’t mean quite so much. It was just another way that God was able to say, “Wow, look how generous you are, opening your home to yet another cat when you already have so many. I knew I could count on you to take care of my living, breathing, loved creature. Thank you!”
And so life continues….
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Loyalty
Awhile back, after I wrote “My Story” and posted it on Facebook, which by the way, I didn’t realize was going to go onto ALL my friends homepages, a FB friend posted a status that read, “You are not real, nor are you loyal.” It would be presumptuous of me to assume he posted that in response to my blog posts, but it did get me to thinking about loyalty. I’ve been thinking about it for quite awhile now actually.
I did some internet research about loyalty and loyalty in the bible. One site had this written: “In the dictionary, the word loyal means unswerving in allegiance as 1) faithful allegiance to one’s sovereign or government, 2) faithful to a private person to whom fidelity is due, 3) faithful to a cause, ideal or custom. Synonyms are: faithful, allegiance, devotion, dedication, constant, unwavering, steady, unfailing.”
I have no problem with disagreeing, if the status was concerning me, that I am absolutely 100% real. I don’t mince words, I tell the truth, I share my heart. That is real. To be false would be to hide my feelings, hide my story as if I have something to be ashamed of. As for loyalty, I guess that depends on what your definition of loyalty is. How do you feel about it? One thing I think it’s important to point out is that the definition above implies that who you are loyal to should be deserving of your loyalty.
By telling my story I did have to include some pretty damaging stuff about Bill. It didn’t make him sound like the greatest person in the world. But I couldn’t tell my story without those parts. I couldn’t share my struggle and fight to climb above it without explaining what the fight was about. I didn’t write my story to destroy Bill. I wrote my story because it was MY STORY. Not his. Mine.
I can see how this particular person might feel that I was being disloyal to Bill by writing what I wrote. Perhaps even being disloyal to his entire family. But this is the deal as I see it. Number one, Bill does not at this point in time deserve my loyalty. I have trusted him, been faithful to him, been dedicated to him, been unwavering in my love for him, been devoted to him, and on and on, and repeatedly he has stomped on that trust, has been unfaithful to me, has walked away when the fight got to be too scary, too tough. He no longer deserves any of the synonyms for loyalty from me. I am no longer responsible to be any of those synonyms to him either. When he walked I was set free.
Secondly, I believe too many equate loyalty, especially in a family, with keeping the truth of the dysfunctional ways of that family a secret. Isn’t it societies way to cover up all the bad stuff that happens behind the closed front door of our familial home? Is that loyalty? Keeping your dirty secrets secret? I know many families have had some pretty damaging stuff happen over the years. But yet, no one ever talks about it. They pretend like it doesn’t exist, it never happened. And if anyone in the family was to be “real” and admit to the damage, to the hurt they had experienced, the rest of the family would be completely shocked, maybe even accuse them of making it up and worst of all, cut them off for coming clean. I mean seriously, how often do you think this happens? All the time! The shame is too great. God forbid that anyone should find healing by being honest and real.
What do you think would happen if you were “disloyal” or a better, more true word, “real”, and admitted that you make mistakes? Admitted that your childhood growing up wasn’t perfect like you’ve led everyone to believe? Admitted that you have wounds that need to be healed? What do you think would happen if you wrote your own story and included all the dirty secret details? The thought makes you shudder, doesn’t it? You are thinking, I couldn’t possibly… what would people think… I would be ostracized… I would be so ashamed… I might just die if I told everyone that…
Maybe you are thinking it would be disloyal to your family, your friends, your husband, your wife, your children. But would it really? What if the only way to true healing, the only way to living freely in God’s love was through that pain? Was through admitting the existence of the wound and doing the work necessary to heal it? What if the only way to living strong was in admitting your weakness? What if the only way to trusting, being loyal to each other was through exposing the secrets?
What would the world look like if everyone faced their dark demons instead of hiding them behind masks and deep down in their souls? I bet there would be a lot less alcoholism, drug use, cancer, disease, suicide. I bet people would be happier, more content, less stressed. I bet they could have “real” conversations with each other instead of the strained ones we tend to have these days. When someone said “how are you”, you could answer them honestly. Wow, how would that be?
I challenge you today to take just one small step to facing a demon in your life. I challenge you to admit it’s there. I’m not saying write your whole story and post it on Facebook like I did, but just tell one person about one small event that has brought you shame in your life. And then work through it. You will be amazed at how freeing it is. You will be amazed at how it lifts your spirit, your soul. And I’m willing to bet you will want to do a little more releasing as time goes on. Take it slow, one small step at a time. You don’t have to live in that prison you have built for yourself. We ALL have shame… ALL of us. You are not alone. Remember that and remember that God is with you every step of the way through the journey of healing.
I think one reason that quite a few people felt like I should not share my journey publicly was because it made them anxious. They probably weren’t able to pinpoint that. They probably thought they were being well meaning and perhaps they were. But I also think they may have grown up with that belief that you just don’t tell your dirty family secrets. As a result their own level of anxiety rose, they couldn’t imagine that someone would actually write those truths, I mean, really, think of the people that might see it! But what they can’t understand is that no matter who sees it, someone who does is going to change for the better because of it. It might just be one person, but for that one person it made a difference. And that’s all that matters to me.
So loyal or disloyal? I don’t know. Real? Yes. And that’s how I strive to live. God loves me just the way I am, so if He’s ok with me, I am too!
I did some internet research about loyalty and loyalty in the bible. One site had this written: “In the dictionary, the word loyal means unswerving in allegiance as 1) faithful allegiance to one’s sovereign or government, 2) faithful to a private person to whom fidelity is due, 3) faithful to a cause, ideal or custom. Synonyms are: faithful, allegiance, devotion, dedication, constant, unwavering, steady, unfailing.”
I have no problem with disagreeing, if the status was concerning me, that I am absolutely 100% real. I don’t mince words, I tell the truth, I share my heart. That is real. To be false would be to hide my feelings, hide my story as if I have something to be ashamed of. As for loyalty, I guess that depends on what your definition of loyalty is. How do you feel about it? One thing I think it’s important to point out is that the definition above implies that who you are loyal to should be deserving of your loyalty.
By telling my story I did have to include some pretty damaging stuff about Bill. It didn’t make him sound like the greatest person in the world. But I couldn’t tell my story without those parts. I couldn’t share my struggle and fight to climb above it without explaining what the fight was about. I didn’t write my story to destroy Bill. I wrote my story because it was MY STORY. Not his. Mine.
I can see how this particular person might feel that I was being disloyal to Bill by writing what I wrote. Perhaps even being disloyal to his entire family. But this is the deal as I see it. Number one, Bill does not at this point in time deserve my loyalty. I have trusted him, been faithful to him, been dedicated to him, been unwavering in my love for him, been devoted to him, and on and on, and repeatedly he has stomped on that trust, has been unfaithful to me, has walked away when the fight got to be too scary, too tough. He no longer deserves any of the synonyms for loyalty from me. I am no longer responsible to be any of those synonyms to him either. When he walked I was set free.
Secondly, I believe too many equate loyalty, especially in a family, with keeping the truth of the dysfunctional ways of that family a secret. Isn’t it societies way to cover up all the bad stuff that happens behind the closed front door of our familial home? Is that loyalty? Keeping your dirty secrets secret? I know many families have had some pretty damaging stuff happen over the years. But yet, no one ever talks about it. They pretend like it doesn’t exist, it never happened. And if anyone in the family was to be “real” and admit to the damage, to the hurt they had experienced, the rest of the family would be completely shocked, maybe even accuse them of making it up and worst of all, cut them off for coming clean. I mean seriously, how often do you think this happens? All the time! The shame is too great. God forbid that anyone should find healing by being honest and real.
What do you think would happen if you were “disloyal” or a better, more true word, “real”, and admitted that you make mistakes? Admitted that your childhood growing up wasn’t perfect like you’ve led everyone to believe? Admitted that you have wounds that need to be healed? What do you think would happen if you wrote your own story and included all the dirty secret details? The thought makes you shudder, doesn’t it? You are thinking, I couldn’t possibly… what would people think… I would be ostracized… I would be so ashamed… I might just die if I told everyone that…
Maybe you are thinking it would be disloyal to your family, your friends, your husband, your wife, your children. But would it really? What if the only way to true healing, the only way to living freely in God’s love was through that pain? Was through admitting the existence of the wound and doing the work necessary to heal it? What if the only way to living strong was in admitting your weakness? What if the only way to trusting, being loyal to each other was through exposing the secrets?
What would the world look like if everyone faced their dark demons instead of hiding them behind masks and deep down in their souls? I bet there would be a lot less alcoholism, drug use, cancer, disease, suicide. I bet people would be happier, more content, less stressed. I bet they could have “real” conversations with each other instead of the strained ones we tend to have these days. When someone said “how are you”, you could answer them honestly. Wow, how would that be?
I challenge you today to take just one small step to facing a demon in your life. I challenge you to admit it’s there. I’m not saying write your whole story and post it on Facebook like I did, but just tell one person about one small event that has brought you shame in your life. And then work through it. You will be amazed at how freeing it is. You will be amazed at how it lifts your spirit, your soul. And I’m willing to bet you will want to do a little more releasing as time goes on. Take it slow, one small step at a time. You don’t have to live in that prison you have built for yourself. We ALL have shame… ALL of us. You are not alone. Remember that and remember that God is with you every step of the way through the journey of healing.
I think one reason that quite a few people felt like I should not share my journey publicly was because it made them anxious. They probably weren’t able to pinpoint that. They probably thought they were being well meaning and perhaps they were. But I also think they may have grown up with that belief that you just don’t tell your dirty family secrets. As a result their own level of anxiety rose, they couldn’t imagine that someone would actually write those truths, I mean, really, think of the people that might see it! But what they can’t understand is that no matter who sees it, someone who does is going to change for the better because of it. It might just be one person, but for that one person it made a difference. And that’s all that matters to me.
So loyal or disloyal? I don’t know. Real? Yes. And that’s how I strive to live. God loves me just the way I am, so if He’s ok with me, I am too!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Tough Day
It's been a tough day! I wasn't prepared to hear the message Gary spoke this morning. He talked about how men are warriors at heart and they should fight for a cause, whether it be their wives, children, family, church, etc. etc. I sat there listening, my heart remembering all the times that I was the enemy instead of the enemy being the enemy, including now. My heart broke because he never fought that fight for me. My heart broke because he wasn't there to hear the message. Instead he believes that the church he once attended is giving out "wrong" messages and has expressed to his kids that he doesn't believe they will learn what they need to learn there. Funny, I don't ever remember him sitting in on their classes so that he would know exactly what they were learning.
Last night I took 6 teenagers to World's of Fun. I wanted to have fun with them. I wanted it to just be a time to forget. But instead I remembered that last Halloween time, we went to WOF together several times as a family. And now I was there alone and I couldn't help but be very sad. Knowing that he had gone just the week before with "socks" (that's my new nickname for her) and the boys. Replaced me with a taller, skinnier, blonder version. How do you not feel that sick feeling that she is with YOUR family.... YOUR kids.... YOUR husband?
How do you stop loving?
How do you let go?
One thing Gary said this morning stuck like glue. And it is exactly what I've been trying my hardest to do. And that is to not focus on the problem because it will only lead to feeling overwhelmed by it. But instead keep your eyes focused on God. God is BIGGER THAN the problem. It's still not going to be easy, but HE is my ONLY way out of this. So I will continue to keep my eyes focused on him. Through the grief, through the pain, through the times of rejoicing, through it all... HE is all I need!
Last night I took 6 teenagers to World's of Fun. I wanted to have fun with them. I wanted it to just be a time to forget. But instead I remembered that last Halloween time, we went to WOF together several times as a family. And now I was there alone and I couldn't help but be very sad. Knowing that he had gone just the week before with "socks" (that's my new nickname for her) and the boys. Replaced me with a taller, skinnier, blonder version. How do you not feel that sick feeling that she is with YOUR family.... YOUR kids.... YOUR husband?
How do you stop loving?
How do you let go?
One thing Gary said this morning stuck like glue. And it is exactly what I've been trying my hardest to do. And that is to not focus on the problem because it will only lead to feeling overwhelmed by it. But instead keep your eyes focused on God. God is BIGGER THAN the problem. It's still not going to be easy, but HE is my ONLY way out of this. So I will continue to keep my eyes focused on him. Through the grief, through the pain, through the times of rejoicing, through it all... HE is all I need!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
