On Sorrow and Hope

Tuesday, September 30th, 2008

It has never been my heart to cause pain to others as I reflect on my journey, and there was a time that I did not feel free to share the truth of my experience as a child from a broken home. I still have a bit of timidity regarding this subject, because in reality, not much time has passed since the time of my wounding and subsequent healing, and some of the dear ones with whom I shared parts of this experience have not yet found the freedom and healing I have. I sometimes feel responsible to shield them from the pain they may feel as I unearth this tale, but I also know that they hurt whether or not I write about it. My hope is to give voice to the aches inside and invite the Healing One in, to our broken circle of love, to do what He does in each of us. I also want those beloved to hear from me one more time, that my love is unconditional.

It is a whole-life story, not a ‘one year’ in my life story, and yet, the most impactful parts of it all happened in a concentrated amount of time. Or shall I say, the most damaging parts. It was really as if someone spent years crafting the most intricate emotional bomb imaginable, and all at once, its detonation destroyed everything in what was supposed to be the sacred space of our home. It was the moment that we were no longer ‘us’, and what was thought to be a fractured marriage could more accurately described as a fractured family. For the husband and wife it was about irreconcilable differences and unforgiving hearts. For the children it was about loss of security, trust, guidance, hope, and barrels full of other things that children need in order to face the world with confidence and wisdom. There were times that I blamed, and I’m not proud to own the hurtful words that escaped my lips during those times.  There were times that I didn’t know if I would literally drown in my tears, which were more like oceans than puddles. There were days that I wondered if I even had a heart left in my chest. Those days were truly my darkest hour, and while words could never do justice to the experience, if you’ve had a darkest hour, I’m betting you can relate.

I’m no stranger to pain, and as I’ve said before, it does no one any good to compare one person’s pain to another. I don’t tell you my tale to solicit your sympathy. I tell it because you may one day find yourself in a dark hour, seemingly without hope or help. I also tell it because now that I can view this season of my life from a different angle, I know there are other sides to the story that I never saw before, and while I would never wish that kind of pain on anyone, I would wish, and do wish for you, the incredible gifts the Lord has brought to me through my pain.

I’m learning that to love someone for who they are and where they are is not as complicated as I once made it. I still want to fix things, and shield my loved ones from pain at my own expense. I have a propensity to give more than I am able, and to forget where healthy boundaries should be. But I have emerged…or am emerging…from my days of sorrow with divine resilience, and a passion to help others see that they have a choice between the darkness and the light. Bitterness and forgiveness. Control and surrender. Arrogance and humility. Injustice is a part of life, but it need not make us each victims. We will feel pain. We may lose things dear to us. We may be at times discouraged and downtrodden due to the circumstances we find ourselves in, but we are not without hope when we hold on to Jesus. 

Wherever you are on your journey, right now you have the choice to open your heart and let the Holy Spirit begin His healing work in you. You may not always feel hopeful, but that doesn’t mean there is no hope. Sorrow is simply a consuming companion that keeps us from seeing the hope that is before us. 

I started writing on this because I’m in a transitional time of life – trying to figure out how to reconcile my highly-dysfunctional past life with the peaceful, joyful life surrounding me. It might seem simple to make the internal change from ‘emergency’ to ’serenity’, but it is not so with me. It is especially challenging because I feel very connected to others who share my past but aren’t necessarily making this transition with me. I don’t say this to judge them, but to illustrate how difficult it can be to let transformation carry you into new territory when you feel like you’re leaving part of your heart behind. Here I am, transforming by the minute, and I’m not able to share (at least with understanding) with some of the people I love most. I don’t think of myself as better than them, but I do wish I could share (or impart) some of the freedom and healing I have been finding on my quest. Observing a continuing cycle of heartaches and letdowns is tough. I’m learning how to love with healthy boundaries so I’m not snagged back into that cycle myself. Personally, I’ve always felt that its better to love and to hurt than to not love…but God is showing me that if I love with His heart, I don’t have to hurt quite like that, though I be moved in my heart for those who are suffering. 

I don’t mean to be circling around a bush here, without naming the bush, but the truth is, this is sometimes my process. Around and around we go…each time zeroing in a little more to the real point of it all. I’m learning that surrender has several facets…There is the surrender of the will, where we give up what we want for what God has. Then there is the surrender of the heart, as I will call it, where we give up what we hope for people we love in exchange for intercessory insight from the Holy Spirit. We cannot fix them, we cannot fix what they are going through…Instead we lean not on our own understanding, and by prayer make our requests known to God. We let Him do what He does. He is the hope-giver. 

We (my family) have ‘our’ story and I have ‘my’ story. They are joined in indescribable ways, but are also separate, especially now that my husband and I are nurturing our new family unit. 

I am full of hope, and yet still have many sorrows. I’m afraid to write about them because I don’t want to cause pain to my family, who may not understand why I need or want to do this at all. But something tells me this is going to continue to be a painful, yet productive process either way. What unnerves me most is that I know we each have a different perspective on how things happened. I’ve always felt obligated to surrender mine if it caused discomfort for someone else, but I don’t have that luxury this time. I can’t write from the caverns of their hearts, only my own. The most important thing is that I tell the truth about my experience, and that I let God love through me. Love covers a multitude of sins. I imagine that multitude to be, uh, quite large…and that love to be even larger. Hallelujah.

Earthquakes and Bed Shakes

Sunday, September 28th, 2008

For some reason, I’ve been a little hesitant to publicly write about this tidbit because it seems a bit silly, and a bit personal. But, if you can’t be a little silly sometimes, you must be taking yourself way too seriously. (This is a common problem for me.) And personal…well, I don’t think that is usually a problem for me. If anything, I am too personal and often find myself turning my heart inside out for ears (or eyes) that don’t really care. Ah, well. If you tune in to this little website, I’m guessing you care a little. Why else would you continue reading? 

Anyway, a few months ago, we experienced a sizable earthquake here in L.A. It was a good shake, around midday, and I instantly realized this one was newsworthy. I shared a frightened moment with my children as our 3rd-floor apartment was going “Shakey shakey” (the two-year-olds description). My fright was followed by a moment of awe in the greatness of our mighty God. The experience was not a bad one, but all the news channels made it clear that this was potentially a pre-cursor to “The Big One” that scientists are anticipating within the next 10 years. I’m not altogether fearful about earthquakes, but I certainly want to be prepared and alert in order to be able to protect my children should we have a much larger one while we are still nested here. As a result, my mama-bear sense jumped up a notch, and the weeks following this wee earthquake, I found myself anxiously sprawling at the first possible sign of an earthquake. The keyword here is possible earthquake.

There were nights, after everyone had drifted to sleep, that I lay wide-awake believing that an earthquake would surely happen that very night, and I must be ready to spring from my bed in an instant to scoop up my babes. I’d slip into a restless slumber, waiting for the moment I’d be yanked out of my sleep to the rumbling of another shake. Little did I know, it would actually happen. Just perhaps not like you’d imagine. For a little background, about a year ago, we had a very small earthquake in the middle of the night. The story went like this:

I wake to a gentle shaking and sit up in my bed. My husband looks at me with one bleary eye and says, ‘What’s going on?’ ‘We’re having an earthquake,’ I say. ‘No we aren’t,’ he said. ‘Go back to sleep.’ I didn’t buy it, and moments later I was logged on to the govt. earthquake site to find out the truth. Yep. Small earthquake. Neat! My husband has no recollection of the shake nor the above transcribed interaction. We still laugh about that.

Fast forward to this more-recent earthquake experience. One particular evening, I slipped into restless sleep as I mentioned, only to feel a serious jolt and the beginning of some shakes. In two seconds, I had sprung from my bed all the way to the other side of the house where my darling babes were sleeping. I must have been moving with serious speed, because I was already at my daughter’s bedside (the very opposite side of the house from my own bed) before I realized that there was no earthquake happening. Hmm. I was puzzled. I kissed my little girl and stumbled back to my room (with my racing heart) only to discover that what I thought was an earthquake was really only a bed-shake…a husband who suddenly decided to flop from one side to the other in search for comfort in his sleep. Now in my defense, he generally slowly rolls over like a gentle giant and snuggles into his sheet (I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him sleep with a blanket on the whole night…must be that hot-blooded thing). But this particular night, he unintentionally preyed upon my anxiety and flung himself from one side to the other, sending me into earthquake-emergency mode by mistake. It was a funny scene, now that I think about it. For now, I haven’t extracted any deeper conclusions from this experience, but thought it would be funny to share. I have some new topics of reflection that will be up soon, so stay tuned.

Olympic Reflections, Part III – Courage

Saturday, September 6th, 2008

The Games have been over for a few weeks now, but I started some reflections on this topic and feel I should finish them out and share. First of all, I wanted to say: God bless those Olympic athletes! What trials, personal struggles, and outside pressures they must overcome in order to reach for their goals. No doubt they receive plenty of worldwide attention for their talents, but I wonder if they have any clue about how little-known people like me glean the most interesting life lessons from observing them…lessons that have very little to do with athleticism. I’m drawn to the Olympian’s focus, and the way in which their thoughts affect their preparation and performance. While only one part of the equation, I think the mind has a great deal to do with the successes and failures of each athlete. I love seeing the athletes who really seem to care less about keeping an eye on the competition, and who are more focused on doing their personal best. How wise of them to realize that valuable concentration and energy should not be spent on anything other than giving their all. Each seems to have their own hurdles to overcome, some of which are from the outside, and some from within. The issue of courage is the topic I hope to examine a little here, as I think some of the most gifted and capable people in the world keep themselves from breaking through to new success and achievement because (for all varied reasons) they lack the courage to go where they have never been before.

Let me be clear once again that in my mind, success and achievement are defined much differently by God than we tend to think of in the context of our culture. Personally, I am not interested in glistening awards and lavish amounts of money as a reward for my focus and determination to overcome my own personal obstacles. Money is nice to have, and the praise of others is quite gratifying, but beneath it all, the only reward that truly satisfies is the pleasure and delight of our living Lord. I try to remind myself of this whenever I start looking around to survey what my audience thinks of me, and if I can be candid, this is an ongoing struggle. I’m starting to see a pattern emerging in people I’ve observed, as well as in myself, that sometimes our own thoughts are the hurdle keeping us from the success we seek. I have a huge desire to succeed at whatever it is I am doing, but I when opportunities arise to leap forward (thus requiring a leap of faith), I shrink back. I hesitate. Procrastinate. Drag my feet a little. I look for ways to distract myself, and slowly sabotage my own efforts as doubt and other lies creep in to take me captive. 

Courage is one of those concepts that everyone esteems, but not many seem to truly lay hold of. Courage puts you on the radar of your opponents, and requires a delicate blend of patience, focus, training, and commitment. It is not enough to be gifted. It is not enough to be have a goal (although, I would say that is crucial). We must be courageous…willing to go to make the necessary sacrifices and leap out in faith. I’m certainly slow to learn this balance, and yet, even in my slowness, I think there is a lesson. Courage is not something that falls from the sky, nor is it really something we can synthesize from within ourselves. I believe that true courage is bestowed on us by the Courageous One who faces His foes without fear. If we hope to be courageous, He’s the one we need. He is the one who looses us from bondage of every kind, and in Him is the answer to every longing for success.   

Calling worldwide attention to myself like those Olympic athletes is not my foremost goal in life, but I do long to leave a legacy in my wake – the kind of legacy where folks I’ve met and folks I haven’t are able to see the light of Christ in my life, and are themselves able to glean interesting life lessons from me. And yet, the courageous spirit of which I write often eludes me, and I find myself wanting to hide in the comfort of my dark little cave. No more. Jesus come and infuse me with courage to hear You, answer You, and go where You send me. Give me the courage to pursue the dreams You have put in my  heart, and the wisdom to know where to invest my energy. Help me to overcome negative thoughts and choose to think on what is lovely and pure.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

Philippians 4:8  

Like Scattered Seeds

Wednesday, September 3rd, 2008

Whew. It feels so good to be writing here once again. Something about all that Olympic excitement and my two silly kids have kept me from taking some time for my reflections, but I am back…ever ruminating over the many things that are oozing in and out of my heart. Truth is, I feel like I’m bursting with things I want to write about, but instead of focusing and making it happen, I feel more like scattered seeds have been sprinkled on me and each one is going to take a bit of time to root itself and flower into this garden I keep referencing. Still, in all my restlessness there is an excitement that I am moving forward…moving deeper…moving in a direction of great promise and discovery. And somewhere in there, I realize I have to cut myself a break here and there. I sure put on a lot of pressure to keep it all together, and if I’m really honest, even when I’m completely undone, things aren’t so bad. Even on my most discouraging days, I can’t help but be filled with thanksgiving for the incredible kindness God has shown to me. More than thanksgiving, I can’t help but be overcome with joy by the two little faces that smile at me as if there is nothing in the world to fear. I could learn a lesson from those two. Whom have I to fear when I am God’s own? I am God’s OWN. I am His. I keep having to remind myself, and some moments, I wonder if I really understand what this means at all. In our recent (and wonderful) conversations, my dad keeps telling me, “Jesus is worthy of our trust.” It is easy to think, ‘Yeah, yeah dad. I know,’ but this is really affecting me in a new way. Do I really trust Him? Do I go to Him when I have a need? Not always, and usually not when I need Him most. In discovering how capable I am, I’ve also discovered how the sneaky sense of responsibility to do for myself overshadows the desperate need I have to recognize and welcome His care for me. I’m not sure how to go about doing that, but I guess being aware of it is a start. 

This past weekend we loaded up our little Accord and trekked our family up the mountains. (ok..as an aside, can I just say that California mountains are really more like itty bitty hills compared to Pacific NW mountains? Ok. So all you Californians, if you really want to have a mountain experience, check out them Cascades. Now those are mountains!) Even though they were only itty bitty hills, it was quite refreshing to have time away from the bustling metropolis we call home. I almost cried at the sight of the stars in the sky. It only took a moment to realize what beauty we miss in the smoggy, brightly-lit city. We were excited for this adventure, and are still exceedingly grateful for the friends who paid our way to be there. In practical terms, we could not afford to go, but it is now clear than in other dimensions, we couldn’t afford not to. It was extremely meaningful to realize that the friends we have made here in L.A. really care deeply for us, enough to give us this opportunity. Thanks friends – you know who you are. I’m still feeling humbled by your gesture. 

The first day out was nothing short of a distressing tale. We underestimated just how well our children would do with such a radical change of schedule. They have always been more flexible than the average children, but this was a reminder that they do thrive better in familiar surroundings and on regular schedules. The short version: no one slept, no one could sit still, and the high hopes we had for this weekend seemed to be quickly slipping away. I was quite discouraged. My husband made a way for me to get to a workshop on my own while our strung-out children were running a muck in our cabin with him and the other non-sleepers from other families. The wise speaker of this workshop helped me un-peel the storytelling onion in order to understand just why it is that some stories connect with others and have a lasting impact, and why some fail to connect. I long to tell other people’s stories through photography, but when it comes to telling my own, I want to write it, to speak it, to share it with as many discouraged folks as I can. Two specific ideas from this talk leapt into my heart and have been camping out there for the past few days. The first: “Great storytellers don’t spend any energy hiding themselves, and while there are many out there who are sharing truth, many of them are not being truthful about it.” Meaning, we are not always willing to let our disappointments, shortcomings, or failures have a place in our story because we don’t want our truest selves to be seen or criticized by others. We do our best (and spend a lot of energy doing it) to shape how other’s will perceive us, and in turn, trade away any opportunity we had to connect with them on a human level. I have no problem with wanting to put your best foot forward, but I hope it really is that…your foot. Not your foot airbrushed and spiced up with some bows and glitter. Ok. So perhaps I shouldn’t go any further with that analogy. I wish there was a way to once-and-for-all banish this tendency I have to want to appear more put-together than I am. I long to be truthful about the truth God has planted in my heart – that the human experience is full of pain and injustice, but that our life in God is equally as full of joy and goodness of every variety.  

The second tidbit I gleaned: “It is not enough to remember your story, you must relive it in order to relay it in a compelling way.” About this time I started choking up, because this is a message that has been sitting in my soul for some time now. I’ve long-known I needed to write about my journey through desolate lands toward redemption and discovery of God’s surpassing love. I also knew somehow that this writing would not be a piece of cake – that I would necessarily need to revisit the dark places in my soul I have been so eager to leave behind. This blessed hour of listening helped me to recognize the very hurdles that have been keeping me from being able to write as truthfully and poignantly as I want to. So I guess this is my formal commitment to God, myself, and you faithful few readers who keep up with this blog that I am choosing to be truthful about my story. I am choosing to put the fancy words aside and just get the groanings of my heart out however they come. They might not be a literary work of art, but I’d rather be truthful than artful. This is also an invitation to you to continue drawing out of me whatever you’d like to know about my journey. I’m an open book telling God’s story of redemption in my simple life. Thanks for taking the time to read my bumbling thoughts. 

As far as the weekend away goes, I do want to say, it got better! We have returned home exhausted but inspired and encouraged. Now to get rested…