"Those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it," an old saying that I believe is as true for our Personal History, as it is for our World's History. As individuals our Family History is the foundation of how we study and perceive our world. Let me explain. My mother did not know her birth-father. She was raised by a very loving Uncle, in a good family. However, she grew up with a huge hole within herself that shaped, who she would become and her perception of family. She unconsciously passed this value system onto me. I grew up not knowing my father's name or anything about him, nor their relationship. My step-father warped my definition of fatherhood; a man who abuses his family in every possible way. My family history taught me that being a single parent was preferable to marriage, because we wouldn't be victimized at home. It normalized having a child out of marriage. Coming from a family of 5 girls, I thought that a boy would need a father to teach him to be a man. So, I placed great men around my son to love and mentor him from an early age. I would not have done this if my firstborn had been a girl. The odds that I would have raised her to be a self-sufficient "man-hater" is a good bet.
I vowed to be nothing like my mother and yet I made so many of the same mistakes. It was not until my daughter was born, that I realized how important a father was to a child's development. My mother grew up with a part of herself missing, therefore she could not teach me what she did not know. I never considered that the decisions I made were based on the unconscious loss of my father. I was not taught that fathers are important. I never considered that sons marry women like their mothers and daughters marry men like their fathers. As an adult, I have met excellent examples of wonderful fathers that have impacted how important I believe fatherhood is to children. I know how much pain is caused by not having a whole since of identity. I'm sorry that I have continued to pass this negative Family History onto my son.
I pray that by learning this lesson, I have change my families legacy. God knows us; past, present, and future. The Israelites did not wonder in the desert for 40 years because Moses did not have a GPS (global positioning system). They wondered in the desert because God wanted them to learn the lessons of Love, Faith and Obedience. It took 4 generations of test, hot desert summer schools, and test after test after test for enough people to graduate from the school in the desert and move onward into the Promised Land. Even after they took the Promised Land, God knew that they would fail to retain what they learned in the desert. He knew that many future generations would need to repeat the same lessons many times before they would acquire the wisdom needed to fulfill their purpose as a nation. A son is not punished for his father's sins, but the son does inherit the father's consequences. Each generation will suffer for their father's and grandfather's choices. God waited until not only the fathers who refused to learn their lessons had died, but 3 more generations of Israelite children had died so that those who entered the Promise Land would not carry the legacy of idol worship and disobedience with them.
I am positive that the God is always testing us. He designed us to learn and grow in wisdom. Each one of us is here for a purpose. We must learn lesson 101 before we can move on to next level, that will ultimately prepare us for our future purpose. God's classroom mirrors every other school's classroom; if you do not learn the lesson you can not pass the test, consequently you will have to take the class again. I've heard the Genesis story of Abraham and Issac many times. Recently, I attended a Beth Moore Bible Study and discovered something new and amazing about God and how he tested Abraham's faith. In Genesis chapter 2 verse 1, God called to Abraham by NAME. When God gives us a test he writes our name on it. Until you pass the test, God will keep teaching you the same lesson. The lesson is specific to each individual, you can't cheat or refuse to take your test. You can't drop out, your always learning, you either graduate or die: "don't pass go, don't collect 200 dollars," but keep rolling the dice an moving toward the destiny of your choice.
A profound learning moment became real to me upon the death of a family pet. Over the years my daughter has had a few small pets; rabbits, hermit crabs and fish most of them are buried in our yard. When the last of the hermit crabs died a few months ago, she was devastated by the loss. Sadly, her fish died while she was visiting her grandparents. I decided to replace this very special fish without her knowing and pretend it had never happened. Why would I do this, lie to my child? Fear, my own fear of what God wanted her to learn. Why would she have to lose another beloved pet? What was the purpose of her continually having to grieve? The answer scared me as I prayed, "it is not my time Lord, stop preparing her to grieve my death, IT IS NOT MY TIME" please, God. What I have learned about the bad things that have happened to me, is that God is preparing me for my purpose. God teaches his students at their own pace. Some of us may finish college in the same amount of time it takes another to graduate from preschool. We each have to learn the curriculum then move to the next level of learning. At least, that has been my experience, each disaster, prepared me for the next test both physically and mentally.
Two weeks later the look-a-like fish died as Mikayla helplessly watched, I had not saved her from the pain. Instead, of just hearing about how he died, once again she felt that it was her fault, this scenario was even more painful. I tried to play god. I tried to take the test for my child. I tried to cheat. Ultimately, Mikayla still had to take her own test because it had her name on it, not mine. In God's classroom as in any school; parents can't take their child's test for them, its absurd to think any teacher would allow a parent to do this. But before you think I was silly to try it, how many of you have "helped" do your child's science fair project and allowed the teacher to grade your work. I think it is safe to say that many well intentioned parents want to protect their children, even from a failed test. I have learned my lesson, my children will take their own test, my interference does not protect them from failure it shields them from learning. My job as Mom is not to shelter them from their pain but, to console them and wipe away their tears. These fish did not die in vain, their purpose was to teach me to just be Mom and let God be God.
When bad things happen, we often ask ourselves, why would a God of love allow his children to suffer. God assumes many roles: parent, teacher, husband within our spiritual lives. Just as I assume different roles as mother, daughter, wife within the lives of my family. When God needs to assume the role of teacher he still loves you as a father. I would be a bad parent if I did not teach my children lessons that might even be painful. As their mother, I can't let my love shield them from the hard lessons they must learn, if they are to be successful adults. When bad things happen, it is hard to find purpose in devastation. This small incident, the death of a child's pet fish, on the surface is not important. The significance of this ordinary fish was that it served a purpose for my child. The lesson that God was teaching her was specific to her, the Test had only her Name on it. The lesson that I learned from this small fish was very different, My Test had My Name on it. The lesson you will learn from this fish story will impact your life in a way that only God can direct, Your Test will have Your name on it. God can use a small fish or a large earth quake to teach many unique lessons to different people. It is easy to think that God is mean and uncaring when terrible things happen. The tragedy would be if no one learned anything good from the devastation, causing the lesson to be repeated for another generation.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
There's no "I" in"LOVE"
There are all kind of mothers, some are outstanding and others fail miserably. As a teenager I had sworn off, "the curse" of having children, I vowed to have puppies. After the trauma of Sherie's custody case, I had reached bottom, the lowest level of self-loathing. I was horrible at finding anyone to love. Within a relationship I disappeared, lost in compromising my needs, talents and resources to please a man. Ultimately, the ''Independence'' that my mother instilled within me, would break free; the "rose colored glasses" that filtered out the truth, would fade and the real person would be revealed. Nice people are not always so nice, with time they can become the epitome of evil. Sometimes, I would wise up early enough to still have a little dignity and money in the bank. When being a trophy, used and abused got old, I started getting rid of some really good guys before they could hurt me a "preemptive strike." Relationships hurt, at least that is what I learned from my parents.
If I had only received, Gary Chapman's Five Languages of Love as a gift for my 16th birthday my relationships would have been far better. My mother and stepfather gave love and received love with expensive gifts. Christmas at our house was great, loads of gifts and money to buy whatever Santa did not bring. They used gifts to express love and control. As a child, I do not recall ever wanting something that could not be purchased. Love was an investment of money and when I did not respect their authority they took back the gifts. I never felt spoiled, I worked hard and deserved every dollar they gave me. I desperately wanted, words of affirmation and a hug to feel loved. Instead, I learned that love was conditional. I was more of a possession; a beautiful doll to dress-up and show-off, how well my parents could provide for our family. My perception of a loving relationship was warped, it was predicated in fear. How could my mom's rage be reconciled with her love for me? It took years of therapy to understand, why I felt unloved and how to fix myself so people would want to love me.
Realizing that my self-perception was the problem in finding a loving relationship, I stopped looking outward. I denied myself any relationship that I did not control. I resolved that I could be a good mom, at least I knew how not to treat a child. So, I was 26, single and wanted to have a baby. Looking back, what I did was selfish, I was not financially in a position to care for a child, but I could not see any downside to becoming a single parent. My child would not be a mistake, I desperately wanted to love someone. My mother considered me to be a mistake, I don't even know who my father is, or if he even knows I exists. The only father I had known was "Satan Incarnate," so having a father was not a good thing. Life would certainly be better for my child without a father. At least, he would not grow up in a constant state of fear. I knew, I could be a great mom, I had so much love to give. My mother had "set the bar low," I was sure, I could do a much better job at being a mom. (Notice how self absorbed "I" was; I,I,I,I...I...I...I was the center of my universe. I was all about ME, Me, me.)
After 30 hours of labor, three hospitals in the middle of the night then an emergency C-section; my son was born. I was exhausted, but so in love with him. The next day my mom showed up with nothing good to say, she was successfully at making feel horrible. I guess she thought I was expecting her to raise him. Having her babysit or financially supporting us was not even on my "radar." There was no plan. I went home to no job, very little experience with infants, no help from his father, no help from anyone. In desperation, I prayed a simple prayer, "God if you will make my life better, I will teach my child to love you." I had given up on God, I had blasphemed against his very existence. For the past decade, I had traded eternal life for what money could buy. I was not a bad person, I helped friends and strangers. I never thought about heaven or hell. I considered myself to be a 'Good' person in complete denial of where I would spend eternity. I was now bargaining with God, feeling so defeated, if there was a God, I was sure he had disowned me.
I made a very bad mistake having a relationship with my son's father, Khairy. He was very controlling and left me thousands of dollars in debt. I owed my mother money, that she had loaned him for his business. So when my son, Saber was 6 months old she moved in my tiny one bedroom apartment for a year until I had paid her back with free room and board. I was very surprised to see her because we had not spoken since her visit at the hospital. I was terrified when she move in; Father Babcock, my rock was in heaven. What would happen to the little self-esteem I had left, if she verbally tormented me daily? Fortunately, she worked long hours and spent the rest of her time with friends enjoying Dallas' night life. Her time living with us was unusually normal, not great but bearable . She was very generous, helping me find a better apartment and purchasing furniture for Saber's room, the living room and a dinette table. Definitely, the most expensive birthday gifts ever bestowed upon Saber or myself. She worked hard helping me "make ready" a new apartment for a reduced deposit. I was very grateful for her help and told her this many times. The very fact that we lived together for over a year and I was not committed to an institution is proof that God was with me.
When Saber was born, I was reborn. Not reborn in the spiritual Evangelical Christian sense of the word, but I started my life over. I changed everything about myself. I was no longer me, I became mom. I made new caring Christian friends at the church of St. Francis. Friends who did not judge me, they never asked about my past. Complete strangers cared for me, cared what happened to me, loved me without condemnation. Slowly, God was making my life a little better. Slowly, I started to love God and want him in my life. True to my word I gave my son over to God. I found amazing God-parents and had Saber baptized. I attended church when my job permitted. Saber stayed with his God-parents and went to church, when I had to work weekends. These Christians, were kind to us; they were the reflection of Christ that I wanted to see when I looked at myself in the mirror.
St. Francis once said,"Preach the gospel. Use words if you have too." This is exactly what I needed to reconcile my soul to God. I do not believe in accidents. God had a purpose for my life before my mother conceived me. He knew what it would take to show me how much he loved me. It was no accident that I was sent to St. Francis church as a disillusioned believer physically and spiritually devastated. People make mistakes, God does not. I was sent to love parents who in their own distorted way loved me very much. However, if they were not my family, I'm sure I would not like them, neither would I love them. I pray that my transgressions against my family and my God are forgivable. We do not get to choose our family, thankfully we do get to choose our God. I am thankful that my shallow cry to God was heard. I'm amazed that God pursued me, that I was worth the cost. I'm overwhelmed by what he was willing to sacrifice so that I could love him, so that he could love me. I'm grateful that he allowed me the privilege of becoming a mom and that by doing so I can now comprehend how unconditionally he loves us. I have raised my children to love the Lord not to fulfill a promise made in desperation, but because his love and wisdom are the greatest treasure I could ever teach them.
If I had only received, Gary Chapman's Five Languages of Love as a gift for my 16th birthday my relationships would have been far better. My mother and stepfather gave love and received love with expensive gifts. Christmas at our house was great, loads of gifts and money to buy whatever Santa did not bring. They used gifts to express love and control. As a child, I do not recall ever wanting something that could not be purchased. Love was an investment of money and when I did not respect their authority they took back the gifts. I never felt spoiled, I worked hard and deserved every dollar they gave me. I desperately wanted, words of affirmation and a hug to feel loved. Instead, I learned that love was conditional. I was more of a possession; a beautiful doll to dress-up and show-off, how well my parents could provide for our family. My perception of a loving relationship was warped, it was predicated in fear. How could my mom's rage be reconciled with her love for me? It took years of therapy to understand, why I felt unloved and how to fix myself so people would want to love me.
Realizing that my self-perception was the problem in finding a loving relationship, I stopped looking outward. I denied myself any relationship that I did not control. I resolved that I could be a good mom, at least I knew how not to treat a child. So, I was 26, single and wanted to have a baby. Looking back, what I did was selfish, I was not financially in a position to care for a child, but I could not see any downside to becoming a single parent. My child would not be a mistake, I desperately wanted to love someone. My mother considered me to be a mistake, I don't even know who my father is, or if he even knows I exists. The only father I had known was "Satan Incarnate," so having a father was not a good thing. Life would certainly be better for my child without a father. At least, he would not grow up in a constant state of fear. I knew, I could be a great mom, I had so much love to give. My mother had "set the bar low," I was sure, I could do a much better job at being a mom. (Notice how self absorbed "I" was; I,I,I,I...I...I...I was the center of my universe. I was all about ME, Me, me.)
After 30 hours of labor, three hospitals in the middle of the night then an emergency C-section; my son was born. I was exhausted, but so in love with him. The next day my mom showed up with nothing good to say, she was successfully at making feel horrible. I guess she thought I was expecting her to raise him. Having her babysit or financially supporting us was not even on my "radar." There was no plan. I went home to no job, very little experience with infants, no help from his father, no help from anyone. In desperation, I prayed a simple prayer, "God if you will make my life better, I will teach my child to love you." I had given up on God, I had blasphemed against his very existence. For the past decade, I had traded eternal life for what money could buy. I was not a bad person, I helped friends and strangers. I never thought about heaven or hell. I considered myself to be a 'Good' person in complete denial of where I would spend eternity. I was now bargaining with God, feeling so defeated, if there was a God, I was sure he had disowned me.
I made a very bad mistake having a relationship with my son's father, Khairy. He was very controlling and left me thousands of dollars in debt. I owed my mother money, that she had loaned him for his business. So when my son, Saber was 6 months old she moved in my tiny one bedroom apartment for a year until I had paid her back with free room and board. I was very surprised to see her because we had not spoken since her visit at the hospital. I was terrified when she move in; Father Babcock, my rock was in heaven. What would happen to the little self-esteem I had left, if she verbally tormented me daily? Fortunately, she worked long hours and spent the rest of her time with friends enjoying Dallas' night life. Her time living with us was unusually normal, not great but bearable . She was very generous, helping me find a better apartment and purchasing furniture for Saber's room, the living room and a dinette table. Definitely, the most expensive birthday gifts ever bestowed upon Saber or myself. She worked hard helping me "make ready" a new apartment for a reduced deposit. I was very grateful for her help and told her this many times. The very fact that we lived together for over a year and I was not committed to an institution is proof that God was with me.
When Saber was born, I was reborn. Not reborn in the spiritual Evangelical Christian sense of the word, but I started my life over. I changed everything about myself. I was no longer me, I became mom. I made new caring Christian friends at the church of St. Francis. Friends who did not judge me, they never asked about my past. Complete strangers cared for me, cared what happened to me, loved me without condemnation. Slowly, God was making my life a little better. Slowly, I started to love God and want him in my life. True to my word I gave my son over to God. I found amazing God-parents and had Saber baptized. I attended church when my job permitted. Saber stayed with his God-parents and went to church, when I had to work weekends. These Christians, were kind to us; they were the reflection of Christ that I wanted to see when I looked at myself in the mirror.
St. Francis once said,"Preach the gospel. Use words if you have too." This is exactly what I needed to reconcile my soul to God. I do not believe in accidents. God had a purpose for my life before my mother conceived me. He knew what it would take to show me how much he loved me. It was no accident that I was sent to St. Francis church as a disillusioned believer physically and spiritually devastated. People make mistakes, God does not. I was sent to love parents who in their own distorted way loved me very much. However, if they were not my family, I'm sure I would not like them, neither would I love them. I pray that my transgressions against my family and my God are forgivable. We do not get to choose our family, thankfully we do get to choose our God. I am thankful that my shallow cry to God was heard. I'm amazed that God pursued me, that I was worth the cost. I'm overwhelmed by what he was willing to sacrifice so that I could love him, so that he could love me. I'm grateful that he allowed me the privilege of becoming a mom and that by doing so I can now comprehend how unconditionally he loves us. I have raised my children to love the Lord not to fulfill a promise made in desperation, but because his love and wisdom are the greatest treasure I could ever teach them.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Living with a Big God
As Christians we are called to be a light in dark places. As a follower of Christ I must warn you that the darkest place I have ever known was within myself. My story is of little significance, Still, I'm compelled to share it with you: not for fame, not for pity but for the glory of God's kingdom. Ordinary, middle class, hard working are some of the words that define my existence. When I see my world from the perspective of Francis Chan's, http://crazylovebook.com/ the God of the universe is unfathomably BIG and by comparison: a speck of dust, a mere vapor lasting only a moment, describes how small I am.
No one is immune from the dark place within themselves. It is the place of self doubt, self loathing, worthlessness: alone we are helpless against the fear and torment evil inflicts upon the weak. I was 11 years old when I attempted suicide. What could be so horrible that a 5th grader would want to die? Feeling insignificant, unwanted, unloved, helpless the same reasons most adults want to "check out early." I lived in a nice house with self-absorbed parents, my step father was good on the surface but was a perverted sick man. I was invisible, seen not heard, a possession not a person. I did not respect my parents instead, I lived in fear of them. I was paralyzed with fear when my parents came home from work each day wondering, what fault they would find with me. I was 30 when I moved past the fear of someone knocking at my door. My family did not attend church and referenced God only when swearing. One night I cried out to God after taking a large bottle of prescription drugs; "Lord, if this is all there is, if my life will never be more than this, please take me from here. If you save me from myself, I promise to never test your will again." I would love to say that I went on to have a perfect existence but this is not fiction. To my horror, I woke up in the hospital and told everyone I had taken the pills because I had a migraine. I was sure my mom was going to kill me when I went home, which would have been a more painful way to go, but would still serve my purpose.
My dysfunctional family called it quits when I was 18. But not before my step-father tried repeatedly to rape me, exposed me to pornography, offered me drugs and exposed himself almost every night. Where was my mother when all this was happening? In the next room. She was pretty much always in a bad mood. I was not a perfect child but I don't think I deserved the verbal and psychological abuse she inflicted on me. When my mother references anything about my childhood, she is quick to point out that I was always dressed nice, played sports, had weekly piano lessons, attended summer camps, monthly trips to the orthodontist for five years, a generous allowance, credit cards, a car when I was 16 and beautiful home. What more could any child want?
To be told you are loved, to feel wanted, to feel valued, for home to be a safe place, this is what every child wants the things money can't buy. I just needed to be loved, instead my mother would say to me, "if I had to do it all over again, I would have never had children" ouch! My mother did not marry my father, a fact she disclosed when I was six years old. I grew up knowing I was a mistake and she reaffirmed this quite often as though she did me a favor by keeping me. She seemed to take great pride in pointing out my mistakes over and over and over again. I'm over 40 and she is still reminding me that she is always right and I have wasted my life making bad decisions. I've always wanted to ask her why I needed so much therapy if she was such a perfect mother. I'm not blaming her for my bad decisions, I take full responsibility for every sin I have committed. I have forgiven everything she said or did to me. So, why bother blogging about it? Because her fits of rage instilled fear, the smallest infraction upon her authority would cause her to FOAM at the mouth and grind her teeth. Her cruel words distorted my view of myself and how I related to other people. If you the reader don't understand her you would be missing a huge part me.
I swore, I would not be anything like my mother. I focused the hate I had for my stepfather into graduating from college. Everything I did in my 20's was directly tied to my childhood. I tried everything to feel valued, too love and be loved. This was hopeless because I did not love myself and felt unworthy of being loved. I knew there was a God in my heart, but my intellect rationalized that God/religion was invented to suppress the masses and that God would never let terrible things happen to children therefore, He must not exist. I was a 26 year-old college graduate; I should have been in control of my life. My past was taking over and pulling me back into the darkness. I was unmarried, 7 months pregnant sitting in a cold swimming pool with a razor blade wanting so much to die. Many people have an agenda when they attempt suicide, both times I wanted to die. I was not "crying out for attention," I desperately wanted to stop the pain. The phrase, "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" is a lie. Words hold power, they are as solid and more painful than any object my parents used to inflict pain.
I was 15 when I told my mother about what my stepfather was doing to me. Her first response was disbelief, she told my sister and I that she would have to prove that he was abusing us. Mom purchased a small camera and wanted me to take pictures of him masturbating in front of my sister who was 13 at the time. When this failed she got a neighbor to watch him though the living room curtains. She finally decided to separate from him; mom and I moved into a one room efficiency apartment. She had left him so many times before and always went back. I thought this time she can't go back, this time it will finally be over. The nightmare will be over, but after a few months she told me we were moving back. Mom promised to never leave me alone with him. She had made her choice; a life of money, security and fear over her children. I went to counselling at the United Way and told the psychologist, Mary everything that happened. I told adults what was happening to me and no one reported it to the police. The psychologist said, that I was using my hate in positive ways, but warned that at some point the rage would overcome me and I should be prepared to deal with these issues, when I could no longer control the anger in a positive way.
I was in family court, testifying to every awful detail of my childhood abuse trying to save my adopted 7 year-old sister from my Stepfather. His attorney said, that I was to blame for my younger half-sister being abused 10 years earlier because I never reported the abuse to the authorities. It felt like a knife was stabbing my heart. The hate that I had hidden within myself was so painful that for months I could not stop crying, I was locked in a dark fog and my adopted sister, Sherie was returned to my abuser, and there was nothing I could do to save her. My own self-hate combined with the verbal abuse handed down by my mother while I was pregnant suffering with toxemia/high blood pressure was more than enough pain to warrant suicide on the steps of the swimming pool. I can say without hesitation I would not be here today if I had not been pregnant. I was reminded of the promise I made as a child and could not kill myself and murder a fetus.
I went to a local pro-life charity in Dallas and they arranged for Father Carl Babcock, at St. Francis Episcopal Church, to counsel me. I had never known anyone like him. He helped me overcome the darkness of my depression but more than that, he restored my faith in God. It took months to replace the hate with forgiveness. God's grace was there for the asking, but I was afraid to accept it completely. The little girl inside my mind wanted her mother's approval and love so much that I was willing to allow her to control and verbally abuse me even as an adult. Father Babcock taught me that it was okay to distance myself from this very toxic relationship and forgive not only my parents but myself. Forgiveness was not a gift for my abusers; it was a door that allowed the light into the darkness, changing my role of victim into victor. I have gone years at a time, without speaking to my mother because the condemnation she freely exudes causes old wounds to open.
God did not allow my parents to abuse me. He gave me the strength to endure the abuse. The awe inspiring fact is that yes, God is really big and yet his heart broke with every tear I cried. When I denied him, God did not forsake me. I rationalized, that I had survived, to help someone else navigate the darkness. The most important wisdom that I have had the honor to give; is that God can forgive anything! If life was perfect no one would need God. God does not require us to be perfect, if you accept Christ without forgiving yourself and those who hurt you, then your missing the point of his sacrifice. Christ paid for our forgiveness. If God in his greatness can forgive me, then how do I, only a speck of imperfection within the universe, justify denying myself and everyone who ever hurt me the same forgiveness. Letting go of the pain is a process, very few people have ability to completely forgive on the first go-round. Some people don't have the courage to let go of the pain. Courage is having faith when all hope is gone. Have faith give yourself permission to have the courage to let go and let God work through your brokenness.
The gift of time is that it changes your perspective. The disasters of youth will seem a lifetime ago when your 30. Every stage of life gives you the opportunity to have a "do over" a chance to change. Too many people lock themselves within the darkness of grief and depression, never allowing themselves to be hurt. They stop taking risk and insulate themselves from feeling joy or pain. When death feels like the only way out of an overwhelming situation, wait at least one year and I'm certain; either you would have missed out on something wonderful or that another person's disaster will make you grateful for your own mess. Tomorrow just might be the greatest day of your life, if you give into the voice of fear you will have missed a blessing. Every problem can be resolved with Time, Forgiveness and God's love. The secret is in the waiting. Waiting for God to work through your worst moment to inspire others or yourself to greatness is to live Braverly.
No one is immune from the dark place within themselves. It is the place of self doubt, self loathing, worthlessness: alone we are helpless against the fear and torment evil inflicts upon the weak. I was 11 years old when I attempted suicide. What could be so horrible that a 5th grader would want to die? Feeling insignificant, unwanted, unloved, helpless the same reasons most adults want to "check out early." I lived in a nice house with self-absorbed parents, my step father was good on the surface but was a perverted sick man. I was invisible, seen not heard, a possession not a person. I did not respect my parents instead, I lived in fear of them. I was paralyzed with fear when my parents came home from work each day wondering, what fault they would find with me. I was 30 when I moved past the fear of someone knocking at my door. My family did not attend church and referenced God only when swearing. One night I cried out to God after taking a large bottle of prescription drugs; "Lord, if this is all there is, if my life will never be more than this, please take me from here. If you save me from myself, I promise to never test your will again." I would love to say that I went on to have a perfect existence but this is not fiction. To my horror, I woke up in the hospital and told everyone I had taken the pills because I had a migraine. I was sure my mom was going to kill me when I went home, which would have been a more painful way to go, but would still serve my purpose.
My dysfunctional family called it quits when I was 18. But not before my step-father tried repeatedly to rape me, exposed me to pornography, offered me drugs and exposed himself almost every night. Where was my mother when all this was happening? In the next room. She was pretty much always in a bad mood. I was not a perfect child but I don't think I deserved the verbal and psychological abuse she inflicted on me. When my mother references anything about my childhood, she is quick to point out that I was always dressed nice, played sports, had weekly piano lessons, attended summer camps, monthly trips to the orthodontist for five years, a generous allowance, credit cards, a car when I was 16 and beautiful home. What more could any child want?
To be told you are loved, to feel wanted, to feel valued, for home to be a safe place, this is what every child wants the things money can't buy. I just needed to be loved, instead my mother would say to me, "if I had to do it all over again, I would have never had children" ouch! My mother did not marry my father, a fact she disclosed when I was six years old. I grew up knowing I was a mistake and she reaffirmed this quite often as though she did me a favor by keeping me. She seemed to take great pride in pointing out my mistakes over and over and over again. I'm over 40 and she is still reminding me that she is always right and I have wasted my life making bad decisions. I've always wanted to ask her why I needed so much therapy if she was such a perfect mother. I'm not blaming her for my bad decisions, I take full responsibility for every sin I have committed. I have forgiven everything she said or did to me. So, why bother blogging about it? Because her fits of rage instilled fear, the smallest infraction upon her authority would cause her to FOAM at the mouth and grind her teeth. Her cruel words distorted my view of myself and how I related to other people. If you the reader don't understand her you would be missing a huge part me.
I swore, I would not be anything like my mother. I focused the hate I had for my stepfather into graduating from college. Everything I did in my 20's was directly tied to my childhood. I tried everything to feel valued, too love and be loved. This was hopeless because I did not love myself and felt unworthy of being loved. I knew there was a God in my heart, but my intellect rationalized that God/religion was invented to suppress the masses and that God would never let terrible things happen to children therefore, He must not exist. I was a 26 year-old college graduate; I should have been in control of my life. My past was taking over and pulling me back into the darkness. I was unmarried, 7 months pregnant sitting in a cold swimming pool with a razor blade wanting so much to die. Many people have an agenda when they attempt suicide, both times I wanted to die. I was not "crying out for attention," I desperately wanted to stop the pain. The phrase, "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" is a lie. Words hold power, they are as solid and more painful than any object my parents used to inflict pain.
I was 15 when I told my mother about what my stepfather was doing to me. Her first response was disbelief, she told my sister and I that she would have to prove that he was abusing us. Mom purchased a small camera and wanted me to take pictures of him masturbating in front of my sister who was 13 at the time. When this failed she got a neighbor to watch him though the living room curtains. She finally decided to separate from him; mom and I moved into a one room efficiency apartment. She had left him so many times before and always went back. I thought this time she can't go back, this time it will finally be over. The nightmare will be over, but after a few months she told me we were moving back. Mom promised to never leave me alone with him. She had made her choice; a life of money, security and fear over her children. I went to counselling at the United Way and told the psychologist, Mary everything that happened. I told adults what was happening to me and no one reported it to the police. The psychologist said, that I was using my hate in positive ways, but warned that at some point the rage would overcome me and I should be prepared to deal with these issues, when I could no longer control the anger in a positive way.
I was in family court, testifying to every awful detail of my childhood abuse trying to save my adopted 7 year-old sister from my Stepfather. His attorney said, that I was to blame for my younger half-sister being abused 10 years earlier because I never reported the abuse to the authorities. It felt like a knife was stabbing my heart. The hate that I had hidden within myself was so painful that for months I could not stop crying, I was locked in a dark fog and my adopted sister, Sherie was returned to my abuser, and there was nothing I could do to save her. My own self-hate combined with the verbal abuse handed down by my mother while I was pregnant suffering with toxemia/high blood pressure was more than enough pain to warrant suicide on the steps of the swimming pool. I can say without hesitation I would not be here today if I had not been pregnant. I was reminded of the promise I made as a child and could not kill myself and murder a fetus.
I went to a local pro-life charity in Dallas and they arranged for Father Carl Babcock, at St. Francis Episcopal Church, to counsel me. I had never known anyone like him. He helped me overcome the darkness of my depression but more than that, he restored my faith in God. It took months to replace the hate with forgiveness. God's grace was there for the asking, but I was afraid to accept it completely. The little girl inside my mind wanted her mother's approval and love so much that I was willing to allow her to control and verbally abuse me even as an adult. Father Babcock taught me that it was okay to distance myself from this very toxic relationship and forgive not only my parents but myself. Forgiveness was not a gift for my abusers; it was a door that allowed the light into the darkness, changing my role of victim into victor. I have gone years at a time, without speaking to my mother because the condemnation she freely exudes causes old wounds to open.
God did not allow my parents to abuse me. He gave me the strength to endure the abuse. The awe inspiring fact is that yes, God is really big and yet his heart broke with every tear I cried. When I denied him, God did not forsake me. I rationalized, that I had survived, to help someone else navigate the darkness. The most important wisdom that I have had the honor to give; is that God can forgive anything! If life was perfect no one would need God. God does not require us to be perfect, if you accept Christ without forgiving yourself and those who hurt you, then your missing the point of his sacrifice. Christ paid for our forgiveness. If God in his greatness can forgive me, then how do I, only a speck of imperfection within the universe, justify denying myself and everyone who ever hurt me the same forgiveness. Letting go of the pain is a process, very few people have ability to completely forgive on the first go-round. Some people don't have the courage to let go of the pain. Courage is having faith when all hope is gone. Have faith give yourself permission to have the courage to let go and let God work through your brokenness.
The gift of time is that it changes your perspective. The disasters of youth will seem a lifetime ago when your 30. Every stage of life gives you the opportunity to have a "do over" a chance to change. Too many people lock themselves within the darkness of grief and depression, never allowing themselves to be hurt. They stop taking risk and insulate themselves from feeling joy or pain. When death feels like the only way out of an overwhelming situation, wait at least one year and I'm certain; either you would have missed out on something wonderful or that another person's disaster will make you grateful for your own mess. Tomorrow just might be the greatest day of your life, if you give into the voice of fear you will have missed a blessing. Every problem can be resolved with Time, Forgiveness and God's love. The secret is in the waiting. Waiting for God to work through your worst moment to inspire others or yourself to greatness is to live Braverly.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Could I Love You More?
My son and I have had a wonderful expression of love since he was old enough to talk. He would say, "I love you." I would go further saying, "I have loved you longer." Then he would finish by saying, "but, I love you more." I have explored this final statement over the month of February. I allowed both my heart and mind to consider the answer.
One of the observations that I made was that, to like a person and to love a person are two very different perspectives that come from different places. I believe that to love someone is to hold them within your heart, while to like someone is a decision you make with your brain. Unfortunately, so many of us can not separate the two, because they both present themselves simultaneously for people we like and love or they can be separated should a person fall into only the "like" or "love"category.
Most people can identify with a love/hate relationship with at least one member of their family. I have many love/hate relationships, that are explosive and ultimately toxic for my well being. It is the love/hate not the love/like relationships that cause the most confusion. Most people have heard the old saying, "I love you but, I don't like what you have done." Relationships can seem complicated, until you understand what motivates the emotion you feel, then it becomes so easy. Love in it's purest form is so simple; Love. When love is polluted, when love hurts, there are other forces at work that seriously need to be remedied.
Most people expect the brain to grow in knowledge, I believe we slight the heart's ability to expand and grow. Yes, I'm being serious! When you learn and expand your brain with knowledge, it does not expand outside the cranium, yet we still see it as growing. This wisdom or knowledge is not metaphorical, it is real. When you love another person your heart has the ability to grow. Love has the ability to expand the heart just as knowledge expands your brain.
How could I know this for certain and argue my point without reservation? As a child, I loved from a child's perspective as I grew, my heart did not stay small it grew to love more people within different relationships. The easiest way to explain it is that my children are compelled to compete for the title of "most beloved" or "mommy's favorite". But from my perspective, I understand their fear and need to be loved, because as child I battled my sisters for the same affectionate status. It is not until you hold your own child and the love you feel overwhelms your heart that you can understand a parent's perspective. What I want my children to understand is that I had that overwhelming moment with each of them, to the same degree, EQUALLY. God planted them, the love I have for them within my heart. My heart grew to hold the love I have for them. Each one has that special place, reserved only for them. My heart has the ability to expand exponentially to hold much love for many people within it, and still it is not a crowded place. It does not run out of memory or space.
Having a terminal illness is like being wrongly accused of a crime and given a death sentence. While on appeal to a higher court; going though treatment. I'm trying to get over the grief for the time I will not have with my children and all the big moments that moms and dads are supposed to witness. I grieve in these moments now for the loss they will feel when I pass, for each time I was to bear witness to their remarkable lives. Because, I know what it is like to search the crowd looking for that connection, the loved one in the audience, whose presence says: "you matter, this moment this is important, I'm proud of you, well done". I take great solace in knowing that I loved you in loves purest form. Even with a thousand lifetimes I could not have loved you more. This is when the heart is equal to the brain - Love like knowledge is passed from one generation to the next. One day my children will forget what color my eyes where; they will close their eyes and search for a memory and find it is not there. This is when an individual's heart supersedes the capacity of their brain - as long as they hold on to the love I planted in their hearts I will be more than a memory; I will be a legacy. The love will always be with them and I will be there for every single, momentous occasion of their lives. The resounding answer to this question is that, "I could never love you more, I could not have loved you longer because, I will love you forever."
One of the observations that I made was that, to like a person and to love a person are two very different perspectives that come from different places. I believe that to love someone is to hold them within your heart, while to like someone is a decision you make with your brain. Unfortunately, so many of us can not separate the two, because they both present themselves simultaneously for people we like and love or they can be separated should a person fall into only the "like" or "love"category.
Most people can identify with a love/hate relationship with at least one member of their family. I have many love/hate relationships, that are explosive and ultimately toxic for my well being. It is the love/hate not the love/like relationships that cause the most confusion. Most people have heard the old saying, "I love you but, I don't like what you have done." Relationships can seem complicated, until you understand what motivates the emotion you feel, then it becomes so easy. Love in it's purest form is so simple; Love. When love is polluted, when love hurts, there are other forces at work that seriously need to be remedied.
Most people expect the brain to grow in knowledge, I believe we slight the heart's ability to expand and grow. Yes, I'm being serious! When you learn and expand your brain with knowledge, it does not expand outside the cranium, yet we still see it as growing. This wisdom or knowledge is not metaphorical, it is real. When you love another person your heart has the ability to grow. Love has the ability to expand the heart just as knowledge expands your brain.
How could I know this for certain and argue my point without reservation? As a child, I loved from a child's perspective as I grew, my heart did not stay small it grew to love more people within different relationships. The easiest way to explain it is that my children are compelled to compete for the title of "most beloved" or "mommy's favorite". But from my perspective, I understand their fear and need to be loved, because as child I battled my sisters for the same affectionate status. It is not until you hold your own child and the love you feel overwhelms your heart that you can understand a parent's perspective. What I want my children to understand is that I had that overwhelming moment with each of them, to the same degree, EQUALLY. God planted them, the love I have for them within my heart. My heart grew to hold the love I have for them. Each one has that special place, reserved only for them. My heart has the ability to expand exponentially to hold much love for many people within it, and still it is not a crowded place. It does not run out of memory or space.
Having a terminal illness is like being wrongly accused of a crime and given a death sentence. While on appeal to a higher court; going though treatment. I'm trying to get over the grief for the time I will not have with my children and all the big moments that moms and dads are supposed to witness. I grieve in these moments now for the loss they will feel when I pass, for each time I was to bear witness to their remarkable lives. Because, I know what it is like to search the crowd looking for that connection, the loved one in the audience, whose presence says: "you matter, this moment this is important, I'm proud of you, well done". I take great solace in knowing that I loved you in loves purest form. Even with a thousand lifetimes I could not have loved you more. This is when the heart is equal to the brain - Love like knowledge is passed from one generation to the next. One day my children will forget what color my eyes where; they will close their eyes and search for a memory and find it is not there. This is when an individual's heart supersedes the capacity of their brain - as long as they hold on to the love I planted in their hearts I will be more than a memory; I will be a legacy. The love will always be with them and I will be there for every single, momentous occasion of their lives. The resounding answer to this question is that, "I could never love you more, I could not have loved you longer because, I will love you forever."
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Birth of a Blog
Hello Web World!
So, why Live Braverly? Braverly is a character in a children's book/play I wrote a few years ago. What I put into this fictional character was how fearless I would have been, if I only knew the life lessons that I know now. How fearless, we would all be if we had the wisdom of yesteryear. I know that God never gives us more than we can endure; but since I was five, I've been asking him WHY? Specifically,WHY ME? There are so many challenges that are the sum of my being, while cancer is a part, it is not what defines my soul, my spirit. I spent most of my childhood scared, I spent my college years being stupid, my thirty's still afraid and making well intentioned mistakes and now in this semester of life I vow to live it BRAVERLY - to fearlessly make right or wrong decisions with love & wisdom. Not too long ago I wished, I could "live like I were dying" the reality being, everything is always one second closer to dying. When I hear this expression in a song or played out in a movie like the "Bucket List"; life becomes a race against time; to make up for what I have not done, the places I never saw, the adrenaline rush I missed. I don't regret my life, I wish I had done it better and braverly savored every small moment.
So, why Live Braverly? Braverly is a character in a children's book/play I wrote a few years ago. What I put into this fictional character was how fearless I would have been, if I only knew the life lessons that I know now. How fearless, we would all be if we had the wisdom of yesteryear. I know that God never gives us more than we can endure; but since I was five, I've been asking him WHY? Specifically,WHY ME? There are so many challenges that are the sum of my being, while cancer is a part, it is not what defines my soul, my spirit. I spent most of my childhood scared, I spent my college years being stupid, my thirty's still afraid and making well intentioned mistakes and now in this semester of life I vow to live it BRAVERLY - to fearlessly make right or wrong decisions with love & wisdom. Not too long ago I wished, I could "live like I were dying" the reality being, everything is always one second closer to dying. When I hear this expression in a song or played out in a movie like the "Bucket List"; life becomes a race against time; to make up for what I have not done, the places I never saw, the adrenaline rush I missed. I don't regret my life, I wish I had done it better and braverly savored every small moment.
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