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….