We have moved once again, but this time it is to the land I've always dreamed of. Some day we will have horses and cows, but for now we have chickens and too many dogs. The children are settled in and enjoying life. My child who has caused my many tears has made a great effort to be a part of the family again. My marriage has yo yo'ed back and forth under the stress; but it has settled into familiar patterns again. I'm not sure if that is good or bad:) Anyway we are determined to remain married and to enjoy it. Some days it's more work than others.
I have over 50 tomato seedlings trying to grow. I think they are too spindley. Hopefully they will thicken up over the next 4-5 weeks. Onions: I have planted a whole bunch but I don't really know what they are supposed to be doing above ground.
I haven't been back to counseling since the counselor wanted me to write a letter to my dad; I didn't have to give it to him, but still it wasn't something I wanted to do. I guess I'm a chicken because I told her I didn't want to but haven't gone back since, to face her with it not being done.
She wants me to blame him for not being able to trust him and tell him about what was going on at school. I don't blame my dad. I blame the teacher and I blame my mom for being my "Mommy Dearest". I was screwed up, but my dad was the only one who was there for me without being needy himself. He may have talked to me too much, but for the most part he let me stay a child. No such luck with my mom.
I'll call tomorrow and make an appointment again and stand my ground against letter writing to my dad. Easier said than done. When I get mad I cry and that makes me mad and then I cry...I think she will make me mad.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Monday, August 18, 2008
A Little Girl's Story
A long time ago there lived a little girl, who was hurt by the things her mother said. She knew her mother didn't really love her because she never smiled at her unless she did something especially good. The little girl knew that as long as she kept being good and working hard that her mother would smile at her and like her for at least that moment. She lived for the smiles and the nice things her mother said when she did a good job. Most of the time she just tried to stay out of her mother's way. She learned to walk quietly, play quietly and never cry even when she was hurt. She had an invisible friend that she talked to and played with. Eventually her mother became angry and told the little girl she couldn't talk to her invisible friend anymore because it embarrassed her. So the little girl stopped talking to her friend out loud and holding hands. Her invisible friend went away because the little girl wouldn't play anymore and pretended the invisible friend wasn't there when other people were there. The little girl was sad that her friend left her alone.
The little girl also had a dog and loved that dog for many years. She talked to her dog and cried and dried many tears in her dog's coat over the years. She was careful that her mom never knew how much she told her dog or how much she loved her. She never did get her friend back but instead she created a whole group of people for a story that she told every night when she went to bed. The story lasted from the time she was five years old until she was twelve. By the time the little girl was twelve she knew that no one would ever come to rescue her and so she ended the story.
The little girl needed rescuing. She needed it for a long time. But who rescues little girls who don't look hurt? No one. When the little girl was eight years old she made her mother angry and her mother told her she was leaving and never coming back. The front door slammed and the little girl cried for a long time. She finally climbed up on the couch to look out the window to see if her mother was coming back. There on the porch sat her mother. The little girl decided that she needed to learn all she could about cooking and cleaning so she could take care of things when her mother left someday for real. She worked very hard for a long time. Her mother was never pleased with anything she did, it was never good enough. The little girl was growing up on the outside, but was growing old on the inside. When the little girl was ten she realized she could never make her mother happy with her and gave up trying. She did what she always did and worked hard, but she had lost hope. She did what she did to avoid the screaming and endless lectures; but of course it wasn't good enough for her mother. She learned so well to hide all traces of emotion from her face and body. That wasn't quite right, because it brought down new tirades and harder beatings. So the little girl adjusted and learned to keep the expression on her face that her mother expected her to have during the screaming sessions. She learned to cry enough and at the right point to satisfy her mother that it hurt enough when she was beaten. The little girl went through a stubborn phase where she refused to cry and declared that it didn't hurt. That didn't last long and it really hurt the little girl. She learned to cry even when she was still able to take it, because it would stop sooner if she cried just right. She never told her daddy about anything her mother ever did or said.
When the little girl was eleven she had a teacher who was kind to her and said nice things to her. He picked her to help put up bulletin boards. That had always been the most envied classroom helper job in school. But to the little girl who didn't look so little, it became the most dreaded. She did tell her mother that she didn't want to go to school anymore and wanted to tell her daddy that she didn't want to go but her mother forbade her to say anything. By the end of the school year the little girl was a shadow of herself. She still hasn't found the rest of her. She says the rest of her has been killed and the remains will never be found. The little girl's wishes are for the teacher who hurt her to be punished so he can't hurt anyone else again.
The little girl also had a dog and loved that dog for many years. She talked to her dog and cried and dried many tears in her dog's coat over the years. She was careful that her mom never knew how much she told her dog or how much she loved her. She never did get her friend back but instead she created a whole group of people for a story that she told every night when she went to bed. The story lasted from the time she was five years old until she was twelve. By the time the little girl was twelve she knew that no one would ever come to rescue her and so she ended the story.
The little girl needed rescuing. She needed it for a long time. But who rescues little girls who don't look hurt? No one. When the little girl was eight years old she made her mother angry and her mother told her she was leaving and never coming back. The front door slammed and the little girl cried for a long time. She finally climbed up on the couch to look out the window to see if her mother was coming back. There on the porch sat her mother. The little girl decided that she needed to learn all she could about cooking and cleaning so she could take care of things when her mother left someday for real. She worked very hard for a long time. Her mother was never pleased with anything she did, it was never good enough. The little girl was growing up on the outside, but was growing old on the inside. When the little girl was ten she realized she could never make her mother happy with her and gave up trying. She did what she always did and worked hard, but she had lost hope. She did what she did to avoid the screaming and endless lectures; but of course it wasn't good enough for her mother. She learned so well to hide all traces of emotion from her face and body. That wasn't quite right, because it brought down new tirades and harder beatings. So the little girl adjusted and learned to keep the expression on her face that her mother expected her to have during the screaming sessions. She learned to cry enough and at the right point to satisfy her mother that it hurt enough when she was beaten. The little girl went through a stubborn phase where she refused to cry and declared that it didn't hurt. That didn't last long and it really hurt the little girl. She learned to cry even when she was still able to take it, because it would stop sooner if she cried just right. She never told her daddy about anything her mother ever did or said.
When the little girl was eleven she had a teacher who was kind to her and said nice things to her. He picked her to help put up bulletin boards. That had always been the most envied classroom helper job in school. But to the little girl who didn't look so little, it became the most dreaded. She did tell her mother that she didn't want to go to school anymore and wanted to tell her daddy that she didn't want to go but her mother forbade her to say anything. By the end of the school year the little girl was a shadow of herself. She still hasn't found the rest of her. She says the rest of her has been killed and the remains will never be found. The little girl's wishes are for the teacher who hurt her to be punished so he can't hurt anyone else again.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Go figure. I have a therapist.
God's timing is incredible. Just yesterday I was saying that there's no one to counsel me because $100 an hour is not an option. I'll stay messed up if it cost that much to put me to rights. :(
Well today I took my son to his appointment with yet another therapist. I didn't have any hope that it would help, but it was "recommended" by the pysch hospital he was in. I've learned the hard way that recommendations aren't optional, they are mandated, no matter how much they claim otherwise. So I took him. I drove up there 2 hours to get him from the children's home and then got lost downtown and couldn't find the place. I hate new places!! I called and the receptionist talked me in. I hate feeling stupid.
I think the session went very well. Z actually talked. He wasn't nice, but he did talk a bit. Eventually he decided to go to sleep. It wasn't that long of a session, a 50 minute hour. Well Dr. A and I talked some more and somehow, I am trying to remember how, she asked me if I had been abused. She's really gooood for that to "come up" in conversation. For the life of me I can't remember how it started going that direction. I found out that a federal law has been passed that gives me 7 years instead of 5 years to prosecute. I need that extra time. This year has been consumed with Z issues. I have more time now.
She also asked/told me "Who in your family abused you? You didn't tell about the teacher so someone in your family must have primed the pump that you didn't tell." I just sat there looking at her, dumbfounded. I never did answer her. I started messing with filling out Z's paperwork some more. She said that abusers who threaten kids lives, if they tell, are cowards. (Maybe that was the point where she asked about me?) She said she could tell by the look on my face that I didn't know that. I'm in my 30's pushing 40 and I didn't know that. I still don't think I "know" that. I don't believe it. I do believe that he was scared to be found out, but I also believe that he would kill me if he could. I believe that he tried to set me up for that when I was 19. Cowards can kill. I'm still afraid.
I'm not sure how much Z got out of his session, but I got a lot. So much so that I called back twice this afternoon. Once was to find out what she was. She's a pyschologist. The second time was to actually talk to her to see if there was anyone like her near where I lived. She said she is one of a kind and laughed. We talked for a bit about if there was anyone closer and equal. She asked if it just clicked when we talked. I said yes. She has another office 45 minutes closer to me. She gave me the number and said to tell them that she sent me and approves it. Dr. A said it's hard to get in because she is really busy, but that would get me in. I called the office and evidently I'm out of the area they are supposed to take from, but since Dr. A. sent me they would take me. I have an appointment in 3 weeks. The receptionist asked insurance type questions and then asked the question I hate to answer. What is the presenting problem for you to see the Dr? Dancing around the answer didn't help. She asked if it was depression etc. I said no. Eventually I had to answer "childhood sexual abuse". I can write like crazy and be very verbal in my writing but to actually say it with audible words is something very different. I'm really amazed that I was able to talk to Dr. A without too much stuttering. I didn't freeze up once, but then again it wasn't about me to begin with. Maybe that helped; but I think she is just really good. Also I'm in a place where there are people that I see on a regular basis that I'm learning to trust because my being here is permament and not temporary. That's really suprising considering that in the past year I've had a good number of people drop me. The last batch that drop-kicked me was especially vicious. Why do I keep trying? I don't want to be alone in a crowd or in my life.
I trust the pastor of the church we are now attending, although he knows nothing of my specific past. He's seen us at our worst, family wise; or at least close to worst. He hasn't seen us on the edge of divorce, but he is seeing us through a major crisis with Z. What's worse? a suicidal, thinking about divorce mother, crisis point in discovery concerning childhood sexual abuse; or a homicidal, suicidal son? It's almost a toss up in stress levels. I'm not sure which is worse.
I think 2 weeks ago Pastor D asked me about hope. The basic idea of it was if we were hopeful about the placement we are working towards for Z. I told him we don't hope. I refuse to hope for anything, it hurts too much when it doesn't work out. If I don't hope then it's ok.
I'm thinking that's not really biblical. But I don't really care right now. Hope is too scary. And that's the problem with this appointment that I have coming up. I'm trying not to hope, but it's really hard not to. Do I thank God for hope or get angry because I'm getting hopeful once again? Anger fights off fear and tears, which are by products of hope. I'm scared to look at this again. I think it was 3 lawyers that turned me down to prosecute my case. That makes me feel that what I went through isn't seen as any real big deal. But it was and is.
Well today I took my son to his appointment with yet another therapist. I didn't have any hope that it would help, but it was "recommended" by the pysch hospital he was in. I've learned the hard way that recommendations aren't optional, they are mandated, no matter how much they claim otherwise. So I took him. I drove up there 2 hours to get him from the children's home and then got lost downtown and couldn't find the place. I hate new places!! I called and the receptionist talked me in. I hate feeling stupid.
I think the session went very well. Z actually talked. He wasn't nice, but he did talk a bit. Eventually he decided to go to sleep. It wasn't that long of a session, a 50 minute hour. Well Dr. A and I talked some more and somehow, I am trying to remember how, she asked me if I had been abused. She's really gooood for that to "come up" in conversation. For the life of me I can't remember how it started going that direction. I found out that a federal law has been passed that gives me 7 years instead of 5 years to prosecute. I need that extra time. This year has been consumed with Z issues. I have more time now.
She also asked/told me "Who in your family abused you? You didn't tell about the teacher so someone in your family must have primed the pump that you didn't tell." I just sat there looking at her, dumbfounded. I never did answer her. I started messing with filling out Z's paperwork some more. She said that abusers who threaten kids lives, if they tell, are cowards. (Maybe that was the point where she asked about me?) She said she could tell by the look on my face that I didn't know that. I'm in my 30's pushing 40 and I didn't know that. I still don't think I "know" that. I don't believe it. I do believe that he was scared to be found out, but I also believe that he would kill me if he could. I believe that he tried to set me up for that when I was 19. Cowards can kill. I'm still afraid.
I'm not sure how much Z got out of his session, but I got a lot. So much so that I called back twice this afternoon. Once was to find out what she was. She's a pyschologist. The second time was to actually talk to her to see if there was anyone like her near where I lived. She said she is one of a kind and laughed. We talked for a bit about if there was anyone closer and equal. She asked if it just clicked when we talked. I said yes. She has another office 45 minutes closer to me. She gave me the number and said to tell them that she sent me and approves it. Dr. A said it's hard to get in because she is really busy, but that would get me in. I called the office and evidently I'm out of the area they are supposed to take from, but since Dr. A. sent me they would take me. I have an appointment in 3 weeks. The receptionist asked insurance type questions and then asked the question I hate to answer. What is the presenting problem for you to see the Dr? Dancing around the answer didn't help. She asked if it was depression etc. I said no. Eventually I had to answer "childhood sexual abuse". I can write like crazy and be very verbal in my writing but to actually say it with audible words is something very different. I'm really amazed that I was able to talk to Dr. A without too much stuttering. I didn't freeze up once, but then again it wasn't about me to begin with. Maybe that helped; but I think she is just really good. Also I'm in a place where there are people that I see on a regular basis that I'm learning to trust because my being here is permament and not temporary. That's really suprising considering that in the past year I've had a good number of people drop me. The last batch that drop-kicked me was especially vicious. Why do I keep trying? I don't want to be alone in a crowd or in my life.
I trust the pastor of the church we are now attending, although he knows nothing of my specific past. He's seen us at our worst, family wise; or at least close to worst. He hasn't seen us on the edge of divorce, but he is seeing us through a major crisis with Z. What's worse? a suicidal, thinking about divorce mother, crisis point in discovery concerning childhood sexual abuse; or a homicidal, suicidal son? It's almost a toss up in stress levels. I'm not sure which is worse.
I think 2 weeks ago Pastor D asked me about hope. The basic idea of it was if we were hopeful about the placement we are working towards for Z. I told him we don't hope. I refuse to hope for anything, it hurts too much when it doesn't work out. If I don't hope then it's ok.
I'm thinking that's not really biblical. But I don't really care right now. Hope is too scary. And that's the problem with this appointment that I have coming up. I'm trying not to hope, but it's really hard not to. Do I thank God for hope or get angry because I'm getting hopeful once again? Anger fights off fear and tears, which are by products of hope. I'm scared to look at this again. I think it was 3 lawyers that turned me down to prosecute my case. That makes me feel that what I went through isn't seen as any real big deal. But it was and is.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Blogging through Bold Love
I started reading Dan Allender's book, Bold Love, last night. I've read the foreword, the introduction and the first two chapters so far. I began to read faster as I saw myself in these pages. I couldn't see the words on the page for the tears in my eyes. I had thought I was handling things ok, but I realized that I'm not. I have either been on the edge of crying or crying for most of the day. It's hard to drive around like that. Casting Crowns has a song called "Stained Glass Masquarade" that fits me so well. I was listening to that and crying. Everything hurts. Whenever I think I can't possibly hurt anymore, something else happens and I find out that I can hurt worse than before. I'm so tired of hurting. I just want it to be over. I dared to reach out today to someone that I end up being around pretty often because of our kids. I think she won't hurt me with the knowledge she now has of our family. I hope not. "Hope" is what hurt and pain is before it happens.
Reading through a book quickly isn't going to be that much of a help. Just because I can check it off some list in my mind of things I've tried doesn't mean that I really tried. So I decided that I'm going to slow down and blog my way through this book. It's cheap counseling. I can't pay someone to listen to or counsel me, but as I write I do eventually think through things well enough to distill it down to more concise questions that I can pose a few at a time here and there to people.
I have the 1992 edition of Bold Love. I think there is a more recent version, but this is the one I picked up somewhere. I will give chapter and page number as I go along.
Reading through a book quickly isn't going to be that much of a help. Just because I can check it off some list in my mind of things I've tried doesn't mean that I really tried. So I decided that I'm going to slow down and blog my way through this book. It's cheap counseling. I can't pay someone to listen to or counsel me, but as I write I do eventually think through things well enough to distill it down to more concise questions that I can pose a few at a time here and there to people.
I have the 1992 edition of Bold Love. I think there is a more recent version, but this is the one I picked up somewhere. I will give chapter and page number as I go along.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Help Me Prosecute a Sexual Predator
I talked to a lawyer, actually went through a small string of them, this past summer. What it comes down to is that I have great info and diaries but without someone else with a similar experience it is not a case that can be won.
So it's left up to me to either hire or be my own P.I. and find other victims/survivors of this scumball of a teacher that was mine in 6th grade in a well-known christian school in the good ole state of Missouri.
He's been in other states too. Anybody out there? I'm running out of prosecution time. He's taught for over 20 years and even been a principal and it's always been in christian schools.
I'm not asking for vengence. If you want that it's between you and God. I don't want him to continue to hurt children. My class was the second year he taught. I've learned a lot lately about sexual predators and even at his fresh out of college age he was very good at what he did. With hindsight I can see his techniques, and they were not those of an amateur. I don't believe he has stopped and statistics will back me up.
Please help me to stop him for all the children he must have already hurt and those that are his future or present victims.
So it's left up to me to either hire or be my own P.I. and find other victims/survivors of this scumball of a teacher that was mine in 6th grade in a well-known christian school in the good ole state of Missouri.
He's been in other states too. Anybody out there? I'm running out of prosecution time. He's taught for over 20 years and even been a principal and it's always been in christian schools.
I'm not asking for vengence. If you want that it's between you and God. I don't want him to continue to hurt children. My class was the second year he taught. I've learned a lot lately about sexual predators and even at his fresh out of college age he was very good at what he did. With hindsight I can see his techniques, and they were not those of an amateur. I don't believe he has stopped and statistics will back me up.
Please help me to stop him for all the children he must have already hurt and those that are his future or present victims.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Acting the Turtle
Do you ever realize that you're probably wrong about something, but you just can't let go of it? I've a few things right now that are that way. It's always been easy to excuse because the other person is a lot more to blame than I am.
What I'm struggling with right now is that I'm keeping people at arms length or farther because somebody recently dropped me and backed off like I came down with leprosy. It's not that I'm so thin-skinned that I can't take it. It's more the timing of and that it seems to be the story of my life.
How do I look to Jesus and not people and yet still have biblical relationships and real fellowship? I understand that people will disappoint or outright hurt me in various ways. I want to minimize the damage by acting the turtle. I don't want to be a box turtle and keep everybody completely out and I don't want to be a snapping turtle and scare everyone off. I'm thinking I'd like to be some type of sea turtle or giant tortoise; approachable, but not everybody's dinner.
What I'm struggling with right now is that I'm keeping people at arms length or farther because somebody recently dropped me and backed off like I came down with leprosy. It's not that I'm so thin-skinned that I can't take it. It's more the timing of and that it seems to be the story of my life.
How do I look to Jesus and not people and yet still have biblical relationships and real fellowship? I understand that people will disappoint or outright hurt me in various ways. I want to minimize the damage by acting the turtle. I don't want to be a box turtle and keep everybody completely out and I don't want to be a snapping turtle and scare everyone off. I'm thinking I'd like to be some type of sea turtle or giant tortoise; approachable, but not everybody's dinner.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
God's Hug
Things with my son have settled down for now. I wish I was grateful, but I'm not. I'm waiting for the next thing. What will hit me next? I've just got my balance back from reeling in the shock and agony of what the last six months has brought to my family. I now understand the phrase "anguish of soul". It is a pain so intense that you can't think where to turn. I never would have thought that pain that wasn't physical could hurt so bad.
Eventually I did turn to God. I also tried to turn to people in the church who were praying for us. That didn't work out. I wanted someone I could see and touch to be there with me through that time, even if it was just on the phone. For some reason I thought that at least they could listen and pray for me as I had to live it. I was living it, and they couldn't even handle hearing about it. So much for people coming alongside.
I did find someone who was there on the phone, for the times I needed a person who understood. She had a son like mine, she understood my pain, she let me talk and cry. She prayed for me and our family. I've never even seen her and we don't even live in the same state, but I've cried into the phone with her countless times in the last six months. She could handle it, because she's lived it.
I haven't talked to her for a while now. I need to call her again, just to talk. She was God's hug to me.
Eventually I did turn to God. I also tried to turn to people in the church who were praying for us. That didn't work out. I wanted someone I could see and touch to be there with me through that time, even if it was just on the phone. For some reason I thought that at least they could listen and pray for me as I had to live it. I was living it, and they couldn't even handle hearing about it. So much for people coming alongside.
I did find someone who was there on the phone, for the times I needed a person who understood. She had a son like mine, she understood my pain, she let me talk and cry. She prayed for me and our family. I've never even seen her and we don't even live in the same state, but I've cried into the phone with her countless times in the last six months. She could handle it, because she's lived it.
I haven't talked to her for a while now. I need to call her again, just to talk. She was God's hug to me.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
What is the Gospel?
I've been hearing for the last six months how the gospel needs to be the center of my life. I need the gospel beyond salvation. It needs to be "the main thing". Live out the gospel, I'm told.
I just don't get it. How can the gospel be the center? What does that mean? How does the gospel effect me past salvation? I know what the gospel is, at least I think I do. How do I live out the gospel? What does that look like? What does it mean to live out the gospel?
Grace used to be just a word to me. I don't think I can explain it very well yet, but I'm recognizing it more in my life. I've experienced God's grace in my life and am increasingly aware of it. Grace is so much more than a word to me now. My life is so much richer for having grace as God's action in my life.
I hear christians talking about the gospel and it's not just a word to them. It really means something. There is a depth and richness to their understanding of the gospel that I don't have. Is it something that can be taught and learned or is it another gift that God gives in his own time?
I just don't get it. How can the gospel be the center? What does that mean? How does the gospel effect me past salvation? I know what the gospel is, at least I think I do. How do I live out the gospel? What does that look like? What does it mean to live out the gospel?
Grace used to be just a word to me. I don't think I can explain it very well yet, but I'm recognizing it more in my life. I've experienced God's grace in my life and am increasingly aware of it. Grace is so much more than a word to me now. My life is so much richer for having grace as God's action in my life.
I hear christians talking about the gospel and it's not just a word to them. It really means something. There is a depth and richness to their understanding of the gospel that I don't have. Is it something that can be taught and learned or is it another gift that God gives in his own time?
Monday, September 17, 2007
How can I love my unloveable child?
What does unconditional love look like when the "performance" is so wretched?
How do I make a distinction between accepting him but not accepting the behavior?
I have a hard time with living like I know that God loves me even when I mess up. I most often live like I have to earn God's favor by my actions. Underneath what I "know" is what I actually believe at my core. I know that God loves me by his choice, but really believe that my actions determine whether He "likes" me.
That's the way I parent too. I love my kids but don't like all of them. I choose to love them, but their actions determine if I actually "like" them at any given time.
Do I have to like my kids in order to truly love them?
How do I love a child who is so awful without seeming to either reward or ignore his behavior?
How can I demonstrate love to my child even while disliking him.
Guess what yesterdays sermon was about.
Yep, one of the points dealt with our relationship to God as Father. I've been chewing on it ever since. Three of my kids are great and teachable and want to do right; but one is not. (Read that as understatement of the year) I would be insufferably proud of my parenting skills if I didn't have the one. I've learned that I don't know it all. I've learned that I don't even understand my relationship with God as my Father. I am still bound up with legalism in my parenting. I don't know how or even if I should do things differently. Is is okay to be legalistic in parenting? Should kids have to earn approval by their actions? Do I tie up my approval of what my kids do, with who they are? I think I do, but should I?
My "one" is not allowed back at church unless Hubby is there. How do I explain that to him? For now I'm not. He doesn't even know. I told him he can go with Grandpa on Sundays and mow the grass etc. to pay back the mirror he broke off his car(a genuine accident, not rage)
How does that fit in with God's love and acceptance of us in spite of what we do? The "one's" acceptance at church is based on his actions. That's the way life is. But shouldn't the church reflect how God relates to us instead of how the world relates? This brings up the idea of covenant children. Since Hubby and I are christians where does that leave our children? Are we to view them as part of the covenant and treat them as such? At what point do we concede the point that perhaps a particular child is not included and should be treated as an unbeliever?
I wish I understood more. I just come up with more questions.
How do I make a distinction between accepting him but not accepting the behavior?
I have a hard time with living like I know that God loves me even when I mess up. I most often live like I have to earn God's favor by my actions. Underneath what I "know" is what I actually believe at my core. I know that God loves me by his choice, but really believe that my actions determine whether He "likes" me.
That's the way I parent too. I love my kids but don't like all of them. I choose to love them, but their actions determine if I actually "like" them at any given time.
Do I have to like my kids in order to truly love them?
How do I love a child who is so awful without seeming to either reward or ignore his behavior?
How can I demonstrate love to my child even while disliking him.
Guess what yesterdays sermon was about.
Yep, one of the points dealt with our relationship to God as Father. I've been chewing on it ever since. Three of my kids are great and teachable and want to do right; but one is not. (Read that as understatement of the year) I would be insufferably proud of my parenting skills if I didn't have the one. I've learned that I don't know it all. I've learned that I don't even understand my relationship with God as my Father. I am still bound up with legalism in my parenting. I don't know how or even if I should do things differently. Is is okay to be legalistic in parenting? Should kids have to earn approval by their actions? Do I tie up my approval of what my kids do, with who they are? I think I do, but should I?
My "one" is not allowed back at church unless Hubby is there. How do I explain that to him? For now I'm not. He doesn't even know. I told him he can go with Grandpa on Sundays and mow the grass etc. to pay back the mirror he broke off his car(a genuine accident, not rage)
How does that fit in with God's love and acceptance of us in spite of what we do? The "one's" acceptance at church is based on his actions. That's the way life is. But shouldn't the church reflect how God relates to us instead of how the world relates? This brings up the idea of covenant children. Since Hubby and I are christians where does that leave our children? Are we to view them as part of the covenant and treat them as such? At what point do we concede the point that perhaps a particular child is not included and should be treated as an unbeliever?
I wish I understood more. I just come up with more questions.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Eat, drink and be merry; for tomorrow we die---I wish
Sometimes we go through such terrible periods of time in life that we don't want any written record of it, as though it never happened. I am going through such a time right now. I've come up with a new twist on "Eat, drink and be merry; for tomorrow we die". Instead I say, "Enjoy today because tomorrow will be worse"; and it is. No matter how bad today is there is a tomorrow coming that is so much worse.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Moving-so I'm taking a blog posting break
I have more to post about the conference but I have to pack because we are moving. I probably won't post for a couple of weeks.
Reflections on Conference of The Lambs and what I learned
The dam is breaking. I don't cry, but from June 14 on I have been. We arrived in Charlotte and checked into our room. The first thing I saw was the gift bags Jeri made for us. I looked through it and it was filled with good snacks and useful stuff you end up forgetting to bring. There was also a small silver colored box. I opened it up and inside was a silver lamb and shepherds staff pin. Instantly my eyes filled with tears at this kindness. This is now a forever treasured possession of mine. I find myself melting at kindness. I can toughen up and take about anything someone dishes out, but kindness in word or action is taking out my walls and is causing emotion to reemerge from me.
We left the hotel and headed over to Northside Baptist and found the conference. Jeri greeted us when we walked in. Tables were set up at the front near the stage. I was intensely nervous and drove my husband crazy until we actually got there. I haven't been inside a baptist church for 5 years and I was so stressin'. In the last month I've met baptists who were nice, didn't condemn and were normal people. They were even people I learned from and I could talk to without too much fear. I haven't knowingly talked to one in the last 4 years. I even avoid the Reformed Baptists. That's a rabbit trail, but I have somewhat altered my avoidance policy of all baptists now due to the love shown by some baptists at the Conference of the Lambs.
Dan Burrell said some things about discipleship that really hit home with me. It gave words to a hurt feeling I've had for the last 2 years. He said that people "win souls" and then just leave them on their own. It's like having a baby and then just leaving it on the sidewalk. It's abandonment. You wouldn't do that to a baby and it shouldn't be done to a new Christian either. He may have also said that it shouldn't be done to a hurting one either or else I was thinking it so loud that I think he said it but I'm not sure.
Along those same thoughts I realized what hurt so much after coming out of the church we did. There were two ladies who were very helpful in the early days of getting to know me and help me work through some difficult things. I dealt with twisted teaching that made it very difficult to understand the Bible. I came to Christ; my marriage began to unravel; My memory was triggered by a confession made to me; the blanks in my memory began to be restored and I vividly remembered past sexual abuse by my teacher. This was not an easy time for me. At the time I thought these ladies were friends, all too soon I discovered I was only their project.
As their project I came to Christ and began dealing with some of this stuff. In different ways they backed way off from me and once again I felt rejection and abandonment. It wasn't real friendship. I tried again later with someone else, same thing. Basically I've just been left on my own to figure things out. That abandonment and realization that I was only a project led to me being even more self-protective for the next two years. I was wrong to do that, but I think it was a way for me to cope with more rejection. I don't handle it well.
Dan wrote up on the white board YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I have felt alone even though I knew that others have had very similiar experiences. To sit in a room with people that you know have been hurt, to see the words written, to hear them said and to experience the love of Christ in action through this conference finally caused the truth of the statement YOU ARE NOT ALONE to sink into my heart. Tears were just below the surface and leaked out slowly.
The main thing I came away with was that God loves me. My mind knows that God loves me, but the rest of me has a hard time believing it. I know it, been told it but haven't really experienced it until recently. One huge expression of that love was the Conference of the Lambs.
We left the hotel and headed over to Northside Baptist and found the conference. Jeri greeted us when we walked in. Tables were set up at the front near the stage. I was intensely nervous and drove my husband crazy until we actually got there. I haven't been inside a baptist church for 5 years and I was so stressin'. In the last month I've met baptists who were nice, didn't condemn and were normal people. They were even people I learned from and I could talk to without too much fear. I haven't knowingly talked to one in the last 4 years. I even avoid the Reformed Baptists. That's a rabbit trail, but I have somewhat altered my avoidance policy of all baptists now due to the love shown by some baptists at the Conference of the Lambs.
Dan Burrell said some things about discipleship that really hit home with me. It gave words to a hurt feeling I've had for the last 2 years. He said that people "win souls" and then just leave them on their own. It's like having a baby and then just leaving it on the sidewalk. It's abandonment. You wouldn't do that to a baby and it shouldn't be done to a new Christian either. He may have also said that it shouldn't be done to a hurting one either or else I was thinking it so loud that I think he said it but I'm not sure.
Along those same thoughts I realized what hurt so much after coming out of the church we did. There were two ladies who were very helpful in the early days of getting to know me and help me work through some difficult things. I dealt with twisted teaching that made it very difficult to understand the Bible. I came to Christ; my marriage began to unravel; My memory was triggered by a confession made to me; the blanks in my memory began to be restored and I vividly remembered past sexual abuse by my teacher. This was not an easy time for me. At the time I thought these ladies were friends, all too soon I discovered I was only their project.
As their project I came to Christ and began dealing with some of this stuff. In different ways they backed way off from me and once again I felt rejection and abandonment. It wasn't real friendship. I tried again later with someone else, same thing. Basically I've just been left on my own to figure things out. That abandonment and realization that I was only a project led to me being even more self-protective for the next two years. I was wrong to do that, but I think it was a way for me to cope with more rejection. I don't handle it well.
Dan wrote up on the white board YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I have felt alone even though I knew that others have had very similiar experiences. To sit in a room with people that you know have been hurt, to see the words written, to hear them said and to experience the love of Christ in action through this conference finally caused the truth of the statement YOU ARE NOT ALONE to sink into my heart. Tears were just below the surface and leaked out slowly.
The main thing I came away with was that God loves me. My mind knows that God loves me, but the rest of me has a hard time believing it. I know it, been told it but haven't really experienced it until recently. One huge expression of that love was the Conference of the Lambs.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
I Don't Have This Transparency Thing Figured Out
I feel out of step. An observer. disconnected
Maybe it's because lately I've been asked "What's going on with you?" and similar things. I just smile(I think I'm smiling, but maybe I'm not) and give some lame answer. I can't answer. I don't know how to answer that question. It's a harmless and well meaning question, but the answer to it is overwhelming. I give my avoidance answer. I say, "Yeah, there's a lot going on." and then I name some busy thing we're doing or should be doing. I haven't used the "game over" answer yet. Maybe it's a little harsh?
I give my answer and feel like they know I'm not saying something, that I'm holding back. I don't know how not to hold back. When people give prayer requests, I stay silent. How can I say what my prayer is? I've always despised the hiding behind the "unspoken" prayer request. It's unspoken because Christians are too afraid to let others see their struggle. We don't trust the people we're praying with. There comes a time when the inability to trust the Christians around you, slowly begins to kill you. You have to have real fellowship or you shrivel up and die.
That's the problem. Real fellowship. Biblical fellowship. That means transparency, which I still don't have figured out.
Maybe it's because lately I've been asked "What's going on with you?" and similar things. I just smile(I think I'm smiling, but maybe I'm not) and give some lame answer. I can't answer. I don't know how to answer that question. It's a harmless and well meaning question, but the answer to it is overwhelming. I give my avoidance answer. I say, "Yeah, there's a lot going on." and then I name some busy thing we're doing or should be doing. I haven't used the "game over" answer yet. Maybe it's a little harsh?
I give my answer and feel like they know I'm not saying something, that I'm holding back. I don't know how not to hold back. When people give prayer requests, I stay silent. How can I say what my prayer is? I've always despised the hiding behind the "unspoken" prayer request. It's unspoken because Christians are too afraid to let others see their struggle. We don't trust the people we're praying with. There comes a time when the inability to trust the Christians around you, slowly begins to kill you. You have to have real fellowship or you shrivel up and die.
That's the problem. Real fellowship. Biblical fellowship. That means transparency, which I still don't have figured out.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Someone asked me how I knew I was a Christian
Someone asked me the other day if I was a Christian. (Neither one of us was being ugly) I told him I was and he asked me to tell him how I knew. I couldn't. I don't have the words to explain it except in an arminian/semi-pelagian way. I do know I'm a Christian. But I didn't do anything, so I don't know how to explain it. It started with the Bible church and the preaching I heard there was truth. I was intrigued by the stark contrast of this preaching and any other I'd ever heard.
This is the article that started it all. My four year old was bringing home Sunday School papers that were very different than any I'd seen before. They weren't just cute little pictures to color and a nice moral story about a perfect family with children who are wonderful little soulwinners. I wanted to know more about the place that made these Sunday school lessons. What was so different?
http://www.desiringgod.org/ResourceLibrary/Articles/ByTopic/105/1487_What_We_Believe_About_the_Five_Points_of_Calvinism/
So I looked up the website that was in extremely small print at the bottom of my childs paper. I had never read anything about the five points of Calvinism before. Back in high school in Bible class I had to know what T.U.L.I.P. was. We studied it in the sense that we took notes on what our teacher was saying, but there was never any true study. I was taught that Calvinism was heresy. So there I was reading this article, trying not to listen to a lifetime of conditioning that was telling me this was heresy and dangerous doctrine.
I had LOTS of questions. So I hit the internet. I also wore through everyone I could see face to face. I was warned about the dangers of looking for answers on the web, but at the same time no one had enough time, in real time, to spend answering questions. I'm not saying they didn't take time to answer questions, but my questions never stopped. I could talk for an hour and just be getting started. I sent lots of emails with questions about what I was reading or something from the sermon. I pulled in a lot of people to ask questions of. I couldn't get enough. I read lots of books, good ones like: How Can I Be Sure I'm a Christian?: What the Bible Says About Assurance of Salvation; The Almost Christian Discovered; A Treatise on Regeneration; Knowing God and several others.
I spent six months, mostly on the Puritan Board, reading and then later asking questions. Many on that board spent a lot of time answering my questions and were so kind. I'll never forget it. I don't know when I slept. God was drawing me. It was like a crash course in knowing God. I was saved in the first week of Nov 03, but I don't know how to explain it. But I know I'm a Christian. I know I belong to God. I hope to have the words for it someday. I know it was God, not me.
This is the article that started it all. My four year old was bringing home Sunday School papers that were very different than any I'd seen before. They weren't just cute little pictures to color and a nice moral story about a perfect family with children who are wonderful little soulwinners. I wanted to know more about the place that made these Sunday school lessons. What was so different?
http://www.desiringgod.org/ResourceLibrary/Articles/ByTopic/105/1487_What_We_Believe_About_the_Five_Points_of_Calvinism/
So I looked up the website that was in extremely small print at the bottom of my childs paper. I had never read anything about the five points of Calvinism before. Back in high school in Bible class I had to know what T.U.L.I.P. was. We studied it in the sense that we took notes on what our teacher was saying, but there was never any true study. I was taught that Calvinism was heresy. So there I was reading this article, trying not to listen to a lifetime of conditioning that was telling me this was heresy and dangerous doctrine.
I had LOTS of questions. So I hit the internet. I also wore through everyone I could see face to face. I was warned about the dangers of looking for answers on the web, but at the same time no one had enough time, in real time, to spend answering questions. I'm not saying they didn't take time to answer questions, but my questions never stopped. I could talk for an hour and just be getting started. I sent lots of emails with questions about what I was reading or something from the sermon. I pulled in a lot of people to ask questions of. I couldn't get enough. I read lots of books, good ones like: How Can I Be Sure I'm a Christian?: What the Bible Says About Assurance of Salvation; The Almost Christian Discovered; A Treatise on Regeneration; Knowing God and several others.
I spent six months, mostly on the Puritan Board, reading and then later asking questions. Many on that board spent a lot of time answering my questions and were so kind. I'll never forget it. I don't know when I slept. God was drawing me. It was like a crash course in knowing God. I was saved in the first week of Nov 03, but I don't know how to explain it. But I know I'm a Christian. I know I belong to God. I hope to have the words for it someday. I know it was God, not me.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Kindergarten through First Grade
School- Kindergarten
I learned to read in kindergarten. We had little paper books from Abeka. All the good readers made it to the purple book. The reading group I was in never made it to the purple book. At the end of the year I asked and then begged my kindergarten teacher to just let me look at the purple book. I knew I could read it, if she'd just let me.
I hated reading group. I would rarely know where we were when it was my time to read in the circle. It wasn't because I couldn't read, it was because I couldn't multi-task. I couldn't read ahead in the story, and keep track of where little Susie was as she laboriously sounded out her section of the story. Inevitiably it would be my turn and it would seem that I couldn't even read well enough to follow along.
The teacher moved me from reading group to reading group the whole year. I didn't read well out loud. I tried to tell my teacher I could read in my head really good but the words wouldn't come out fast enough out loud. She didn't believe me, and she never would let me even hold the purple book in my hands because I didn't earn it by reading all the other books that came before it. I still resent that. I don't know if it's the purple book or the fact that she didn't believe me that I could really read. I spent the summer between kindergarten and 1st grade practicing reading out loud so I wouldn't miss any of the books the next year in 1st grade.
I remember other things about school too, but at this point it may be too identifying.
School-- First Grade
My first grade teacher liked me. She was still around when I graduated from high school and gave me a present.
I don't know why she liked me. I spent a lot of time with my nose in a circle on the board or standing in the corner. I was always getting fussed at for going to the creek during recess. I'd edge my way over there and when she wasn't watching I was down the hill and tucked out of sight from the playground above. I never got in real trouble for disobeying, just fussed at. Maybe it was something she wanted to do to.
I got all A's in first grade. I read a lot, too. I loved The Bobbsey Twins. I bought them for my own kids and they don't like them! I'm still holding out hope that my youngest will like them. If not, I guess I'll try again with my future grandkids.
Home
We lived in the same house from the time I was 2 until I was 7. I was about 4 or 5 and I wanted my mom to like me so I was the little helper. I didn't like emptying or filling the dishwasher, but I did want her approval. She thought I liked to help with the dishwasher. I would have done anything for her to smile at me and love me. So I would help with the dishwasher and earn a smile from my mom. I don't know why I knew at that age that she didn't love me.
My favorite drink was Tang. I don't even know if they make it anymore. I used to climb up on the counter to get a glass and the jar of Tang out of the cupboard and make it nice and strong. I liked putting extra scoops of mix in the water and stirring it.
Soup. My dad usually let me pick the soup we were going to eat. My favorite was cheese soup. I always picked it if we had it, or rather if my dad let me know that was one of the choices. He still won't eat soup to this day. He says it reminds him of being poor.
The neighbors next door on the right had a sandbox, but no kids that I knew of. They also had a HUGE dog that I wasn't afraid of. I would constantly climb over the fence to play in the sandbox. The dog would stand over me as I played. My mom would always come to the fence and in a fake calm voice would tell me to slowly get up and come to the fence. I still don't know why she was so scared of that dog. The neighbors had a good sandbox that nobody used except me when I could sneak over.
I learned to ride a bike by balancing using the edge of the curb. My dad held the back of my bicycle and ran with me and lied every other time I'd ask if he was still holding on. What is it with parents that they have to lie to their children when they are teaching them how to ride a bike? We didn't lie to our kids when we taught them to ride a bike. Our friends all did. (Am I being judgemental here, or just making an observation?)
A teenager who rode a ten speed with no hands tried to teach me how to ride with no hands. A couple of wrecks later I decided that I was going to work on getting good with one hand first. I wanted to impress him with my new-found bike riding skills. He went on to teach me how to jump curbs. Back then a curb was a CURB. Concrete must have been cheap because the curbs were like castle walls. If you hit a curb wrong then you ended up bending your bike rim. People who drove cars got flat tires when they hit a curb. When I was 16 the worse thing I could do was hit a curb. That's the only thing I really got in trouble for; staying out to 3am wasn't that big of a deal if it wasn't a school night. (Was I ever asked what I was doing?)
Back on topic...
Once I've covered these items then that will pretty much wrap up 1st grade. Stay tuned for future updates on this post. :)
kids across the street, boys peeing letters on side of house, learning, chris batman, nick, laurie, choir
I learned to read in kindergarten. We had little paper books from Abeka. All the good readers made it to the purple book. The reading group I was in never made it to the purple book. At the end of the year I asked and then begged my kindergarten teacher to just let me look at the purple book. I knew I could read it, if she'd just let me.
I hated reading group. I would rarely know where we were when it was my time to read in the circle. It wasn't because I couldn't read, it was because I couldn't multi-task. I couldn't read ahead in the story, and keep track of where little Susie was as she laboriously sounded out her section of the story. Inevitiably it would be my turn and it would seem that I couldn't even read well enough to follow along.
The teacher moved me from reading group to reading group the whole year. I didn't read well out loud. I tried to tell my teacher I could read in my head really good but the words wouldn't come out fast enough out loud. She didn't believe me, and she never would let me even hold the purple book in my hands because I didn't earn it by reading all the other books that came before it. I still resent that. I don't know if it's the purple book or the fact that she didn't believe me that I could really read. I spent the summer between kindergarten and 1st grade practicing reading out loud so I wouldn't miss any of the books the next year in 1st grade.
I remember other things about school too, but at this point it may be too identifying.
School-- First Grade
My first grade teacher liked me. She was still around when I graduated from high school and gave me a present.
I don't know why she liked me. I spent a lot of time with my nose in a circle on the board or standing in the corner. I was always getting fussed at for going to the creek during recess. I'd edge my way over there and when she wasn't watching I was down the hill and tucked out of sight from the playground above. I never got in real trouble for disobeying, just fussed at. Maybe it was something she wanted to do to.
I got all A's in first grade. I read a lot, too. I loved The Bobbsey Twins. I bought them for my own kids and they don't like them! I'm still holding out hope that my youngest will like them. If not, I guess I'll try again with my future grandkids.
Home
We lived in the same house from the time I was 2 until I was 7. I was about 4 or 5 and I wanted my mom to like me so I was the little helper. I didn't like emptying or filling the dishwasher, but I did want her approval. She thought I liked to help with the dishwasher. I would have done anything for her to smile at me and love me. So I would help with the dishwasher and earn a smile from my mom. I don't know why I knew at that age that she didn't love me.
My favorite drink was Tang. I don't even know if they make it anymore. I used to climb up on the counter to get a glass and the jar of Tang out of the cupboard and make it nice and strong. I liked putting extra scoops of mix in the water and stirring it.
Soup. My dad usually let me pick the soup we were going to eat. My favorite was cheese soup. I always picked it if we had it, or rather if my dad let me know that was one of the choices. He still won't eat soup to this day. He says it reminds him of being poor.
The neighbors next door on the right had a sandbox, but no kids that I knew of. They also had a HUGE dog that I wasn't afraid of. I would constantly climb over the fence to play in the sandbox. The dog would stand over me as I played. My mom would always come to the fence and in a fake calm voice would tell me to slowly get up and come to the fence. I still don't know why she was so scared of that dog. The neighbors had a good sandbox that nobody used except me when I could sneak over.
I learned to ride a bike by balancing using the edge of the curb. My dad held the back of my bicycle and ran with me and lied every other time I'd ask if he was still holding on. What is it with parents that they have to lie to their children when they are teaching them how to ride a bike? We didn't lie to our kids when we taught them to ride a bike. Our friends all did. (Am I being judgemental here, or just making an observation?)
A teenager who rode a ten speed with no hands tried to teach me how to ride with no hands. A couple of wrecks later I decided that I was going to work on getting good with one hand first. I wanted to impress him with my new-found bike riding skills. He went on to teach me how to jump curbs. Back then a curb was a CURB. Concrete must have been cheap because the curbs were like castle walls. If you hit a curb wrong then you ended up bending your bike rim. People who drove cars got flat tires when they hit a curb. When I was 16 the worse thing I could do was hit a curb. That's the only thing I really got in trouble for; staying out to 3am wasn't that big of a deal if it wasn't a school night. (Was I ever asked what I was doing?)
Back on topic...
Once I've covered these items then that will pretty much wrap up 1st grade. Stay tuned for future updates on this post. :)
kids across the street, boys peeing letters on side of house, learning, chris batman, nick, laurie, choir
How to put up walls in a door kind of church
I talked to a pastor at the church we're looking into. He didn't play the dance around the question and answer game. I didn't expect a follow up to the follow up question. I was only ready for the follow up question. But in the q and a game my answer was supposed to win and then its game over--no more questions. It didn't work that way.
At this new church we're going to they don't play the question and answer game the "right" way.
This is how it's supposed to go. If the topic ever begins to get somewhat personal or is danger of heading that way then everyone knows the "game" has begun. A question is asked. A vague non-informational answer is given to ascertain if the person asking even gives a flip. If the person asking, returns the answer with yet another question; then the "game" can take one of two paths. On one path the conversation can continue on said topic to a certain point. On the second path the one receiving the questions gives a "game over" answer. That answer contains enough general information in it to satisfy inquirers without opening ones self up too much. The "game over" answer is clearly saying that's far enough and everyone knows that's as far as you go.
They don't play that game at this church. We're figuring this out the hard way.
They ask, "How are you doing?"
We say, "Fine."
They return with, "No, really. How are you doing?"
What do you say to that? You can't stand there and lie. How do you get around it? They expect a real answer. Fine, just doesn't cut it with them. The ones who let you get away with it; let you know, that they know, you're getting away with it.
Most people who haven't suffered the way you have, or don't see that type of suffering as a possibility in their future, just can't handle that different type of pain in your life. They back off and once again there's rejection of some sort. Trust becomes harder and harder to give. We haven't been at this church or type of church long enough to experience that, but...
My husband and I talked about this today and devised a plan. I told him we needed an answer that would stop them because they don't play the dance around the question and answer game. We need a brutally honest answer that will stop them in their tracks. So we crafted a definite "game over" answer.
I don't know you well enough to really want to answer that at this time, because most people can't handle the pain that's in our life and I'm tired of the rejection. So unless you're willing to share your deepest darkest, so I can see if you can handle it, then I can't answer any further.
Now we'll see how far they're willing to take this transparency crap! (tounge in cheek:-)
That's our answer and we're sticking to it. Hope it doesn't bite us.
My husband is testing it tonight at church. We'll see how it works.
They seem to have the idea that if you ask enough questions at a wall that you can turn it into a door. I don't want to sound like these people are pushy and ugly about it because they are not. They have shown themselves to be real. I don't know how to handle it. I love it and I hate it and it scares me. I don't know what their walls look like so I don't know how to put up walls that they will recognize as being a wall. Aside from the in your face "game over" answer, I don't know how to stop their... I don't know what it is I'm stopping. Is it fellowship? transparency? And after all my crying around about wanting fellowship, here I am hollering "TMI !". Is biblical fellowship and transparency the same thing? At what point does information/transparency really become too much information?
At this new church we're going to they don't play the question and answer game the "right" way.
This is how it's supposed to go. If the topic ever begins to get somewhat personal or is danger of heading that way then everyone knows the "game" has begun. A question is asked. A vague non-informational answer is given to ascertain if the person asking even gives a flip. If the person asking, returns the answer with yet another question; then the "game" can take one of two paths. On one path the conversation can continue on said topic to a certain point. On the second path the one receiving the questions gives a "game over" answer. That answer contains enough general information in it to satisfy inquirers without opening ones self up too much. The "game over" answer is clearly saying that's far enough and everyone knows that's as far as you go.
They don't play that game at this church. We're figuring this out the hard way.
They ask, "How are you doing?"
We say, "Fine."
They return with, "No, really. How are you doing?"
What do you say to that? You can't stand there and lie. How do you get around it? They expect a real answer. Fine, just doesn't cut it with them. The ones who let you get away with it; let you know, that they know, you're getting away with it.
Most people who haven't suffered the way you have, or don't see that type of suffering as a possibility in their future, just can't handle that different type of pain in your life. They back off and once again there's rejection of some sort. Trust becomes harder and harder to give. We haven't been at this church or type of church long enough to experience that, but...
My husband and I talked about this today and devised a plan. I told him we needed an answer that would stop them because they don't play the dance around the question and answer game. We need a brutally honest answer that will stop them in their tracks. So we crafted a definite "game over" answer.
I don't know you well enough to really want to answer that at this time, because most people can't handle the pain that's in our life and I'm tired of the rejection. So unless you're willing to share your deepest darkest, so I can see if you can handle it, then I can't answer any further.
Now we'll see how far they're willing to take this transparency crap! (tounge in cheek:-)
That's our answer and we're sticking to it. Hope it doesn't bite us.
My husband is testing it tonight at church. We'll see how it works.
They seem to have the idea that if you ask enough questions at a wall that you can turn it into a door. I don't want to sound like these people are pushy and ugly about it because they are not. They have shown themselves to be real. I don't know how to handle it. I love it and I hate it and it scares me. I don't know what their walls look like so I don't know how to put up walls that they will recognize as being a wall. Aside from the in your face "game over" answer, I don't know how to stop their... I don't know what it is I'm stopping. Is it fellowship? transparency? And after all my crying around about wanting fellowship, here I am hollering "TMI !". Is biblical fellowship and transparency the same thing? At what point does information/transparency really become too much information?
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Do I fellowship with sinners?
I hope so. Jesus did.
Does it matter when a sin was committed as long as it's repented of? Ohh, you did what? Was that before or after you were saved? As if we're the judge whether that has been forgiven or not. Here's a great example I read somewhere recently online but forgot where. I think it was only a story. I don't have it all right, but I have the basic gist of it.
There are two men who were both in jail and were saved. One of the men murdered his wife and the other robbed a store. Parole day came and they both got out. The wife of the man who robbed the store had gotten involved with some other guy and now wanted a divorce. She divorced him.
Both men went on to be faithful and involved in a local church and after a while felt God leading them into ministry. The one time wife murderer asked and received counsel from his pastor and was encouraged to go to seminary because "brother, all your sins are under the blood". The second guy was really relieved that the guy who murdered his wife got the pastors approval and blessing to go into the ministry. So he goes in to talk to the pastor. The pastor asks him about his divorce and whether it was before or after he was saved. Verifying that it occured after salvation he told him he was disqualified from the ministry. "What do mean, disqualified? I didn't kill her. She divorced me."
Yeah, that makes a lot of sense doesn't it? He should be free to remarry, pastor and live the Christian life a forgiven sinner like the rest of us. How many people did Paul have killed before he was saved? God forgave him and used him greatly. Paul never forgot where he came from, but he didn't allow it to chain him in the past and keep him from loving God and serving him in the present.
Sometimes I feel chained to the past. In a way I am. My past influences my present and my plans for the future. It's all connected. I'm not sure how to disengage from the past. The abuse I suffered at the hands of my teacher has affected me my whole life, even though I didn't remember the worst of it until fairly recently. It influenced the type of men I was drawn to or repelled by. My experiences drove my parenting practices. I had a big push with my kids on sneaky child catchers who seemed really nice, but just wanted to steal them away from mommy and daddy and hurt them. We watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang with them at age 3 and used that to teach them. The teaching paid off.
Someone tried to get my 5 year old son at the park one day. He was playing in the sandbox and a man came up and talked to him. He told him he had some candy for him if he would go with him to the bathroom. My son said he wasn't done playing yet, he'd go later. The man walked down towards the bathroom. When he was almost there my son jumped up and took 2 steps towards the bathroom, did a 180 and ran straight to me. (I was on the way to him) He was so proud of himself for tricking the child catcher.
So yeah, that's one good thing that came out of my abuse. That's a great thing, but I think God could have used a different method than that to get me to teach my children about the "bad guys who look good". Romans 8:28 is a hard sell for me. It's kinda like getting hit with a baseball bat to get your attention when a "hey you" would have worked just as well. Faith,Trust, Understanding, I wish I could understand. I push it down and pretend everything is ok. It's not. Eventually it comes back because it refuses to stay pushed down. What do I do with it?
Does it matter when a sin was committed as long as it's repented of? Ohh, you did what? Was that before or after you were saved? As if we're the judge whether that has been forgiven or not. Here's a great example I read somewhere recently online but forgot where. I think it was only a story. I don't have it all right, but I have the basic gist of it.
There are two men who were both in jail and were saved. One of the men murdered his wife and the other robbed a store. Parole day came and they both got out. The wife of the man who robbed the store had gotten involved with some other guy and now wanted a divorce. She divorced him.
Both men went on to be faithful and involved in a local church and after a while felt God leading them into ministry. The one time wife murderer asked and received counsel from his pastor and was encouraged to go to seminary because "brother, all your sins are under the blood". The second guy was really relieved that the guy who murdered his wife got the pastors approval and blessing to go into the ministry. So he goes in to talk to the pastor. The pastor asks him about his divorce and whether it was before or after he was saved. Verifying that it occured after salvation he told him he was disqualified from the ministry. "What do mean, disqualified? I didn't kill her. She divorced me."
Yeah, that makes a lot of sense doesn't it? He should be free to remarry, pastor and live the Christian life a forgiven sinner like the rest of us. How many people did Paul have killed before he was saved? God forgave him and used him greatly. Paul never forgot where he came from, but he didn't allow it to chain him in the past and keep him from loving God and serving him in the present.
Sometimes I feel chained to the past. In a way I am. My past influences my present and my plans for the future. It's all connected. I'm not sure how to disengage from the past. The abuse I suffered at the hands of my teacher has affected me my whole life, even though I didn't remember the worst of it until fairly recently. It influenced the type of men I was drawn to or repelled by. My experiences drove my parenting practices. I had a big push with my kids on sneaky child catchers who seemed really nice, but just wanted to steal them away from mommy and daddy and hurt them. We watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang with them at age 3 and used that to teach them. The teaching paid off.
Someone tried to get my 5 year old son at the park one day. He was playing in the sandbox and a man came up and talked to him. He told him he had some candy for him if he would go with him to the bathroom. My son said he wasn't done playing yet, he'd go later. The man walked down towards the bathroom. When he was almost there my son jumped up and took 2 steps towards the bathroom, did a 180 and ran straight to me. (I was on the way to him) He was so proud of himself for tricking the child catcher.
So yeah, that's one good thing that came out of my abuse. That's a great thing, but I think God could have used a different method than that to get me to teach my children about the "bad guys who look good". Romans 8:28 is a hard sell for me. It's kinda like getting hit with a baseball bat to get your attention when a "hey you" would have worked just as well. Faith,Trust, Understanding, I wish I could understand. I push it down and pretend everything is ok. It's not. Eventually it comes back because it refuses to stay pushed down. What do I do with it?
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Honesty Hurts
I don't know...
It just seems like honesty hurts. The kind of honesty that bares your soul to someone else. I've never done that before. I've been on the road to it and realized that the other person was putting up road blocks and didn't want to "see" and "know" me any more. What hurts is when the other person is one that you so desperately hope will know you and still love you or still be your friend.
I have a few very good friends, but I won't risk our friendship by letting them know the things that tear at my soul. Things that rip me apart in the struggle against them. I have whole catagories of me that no one has ever glimpsed. Only God. Am I wrong to want someone here on earth that I can talk to about everything? My everything is pretty intense.
One time, about a year ago, I thought there was someone who could handle my everything. So I asked her a question. This wasn't just any question. It was a real doozy. Took me weeks to work up to it. She didn't know the answer and said she would ask her pastor. I've called her a few times since then, and I've even asked her about the question a time or two. She evades. We don't really talk anymore. I over estimated what she could handle and lost a friend.
What do people do? There are so many layers of me and I can adapt and fit on the surface with many different types of people, and in diverse situations. What do people do around other people? How do they decide who they are, for that person and situation? Is that what people do? Do they consciously decide what part of their life they will allow others into? Does everyone have walled defenses many layers deep, but just keep everyone to the outer layers?
I'm tired of the walls, but I don't know how to keep up the right ones. I hear a lot of talk about the need for transparency in our lives with other Christians. What kind of transparency are they talking about? to what extent? I don't get it. It comes back to the fact that honesty hurts. It hurts when you're too honest with people. It also hurts when you hold back because they can't handle it.
It's me. Hello, it's just me. I have to live with me and I can't even let anyone else know me, not all of me. It's kind of lonely just being with me and knowing that if I was really honest, in a bare your soul kind of honesty, that I would be all alone because no one would stay. No one really knows me, but God. Is that how it has to be?
It just seems like honesty hurts. The kind of honesty that bares your soul to someone else. I've never done that before. I've been on the road to it and realized that the other person was putting up road blocks and didn't want to "see" and "know" me any more. What hurts is when the other person is one that you so desperately hope will know you and still love you or still be your friend.
I have a few very good friends, but I won't risk our friendship by letting them know the things that tear at my soul. Things that rip me apart in the struggle against them. I have whole catagories of me that no one has ever glimpsed. Only God. Am I wrong to want someone here on earth that I can talk to about everything? My everything is pretty intense.
One time, about a year ago, I thought there was someone who could handle my everything. So I asked her a question. This wasn't just any question. It was a real doozy. Took me weeks to work up to it. She didn't know the answer and said she would ask her pastor. I've called her a few times since then, and I've even asked her about the question a time or two. She evades. We don't really talk anymore. I over estimated what she could handle and lost a friend.
What do people do? There are so many layers of me and I can adapt and fit on the surface with many different types of people, and in diverse situations. What do people do around other people? How do they decide who they are, for that person and situation? Is that what people do? Do they consciously decide what part of their life they will allow others into? Does everyone have walled defenses many layers deep, but just keep everyone to the outer layers?
I'm tired of the walls, but I don't know how to keep up the right ones. I hear a lot of talk about the need for transparency in our lives with other Christians. What kind of transparency are they talking about? to what extent? I don't get it. It comes back to the fact that honesty hurts. It hurts when you're too honest with people. It also hurts when you hold back because they can't handle it.
It's me. Hello, it's just me. I have to live with me and I can't even let anyone else know me, not all of me. It's kind of lonely just being with me and knowing that if I was really honest, in a bare your soul kind of honesty, that I would be all alone because no one would stay. No one really knows me, but God. Is that how it has to be?
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Mother's Day is hard to take.
Mothers Day can be such a rough day. Fill in the blank as to why. This is the first year I didn't have to hint to my husband about having the kids do something. We did talk this week about how awful it has always been for me. On the one hand it holds painful reminders of the past, but on the other hand it exists for me in the present in a good way as the mother, not the child.
I get tired of telling my husband things that really matter in life, and then he forgets. He has never remembered Mother's Day until this year. I buy his mom's cards and tell him to sign it. The last few years I've told him to buy his own card for his mom. So he forgets things I tell him, like how much I hate Mother's Day and why. Today he remembered.
We're going to this new church, which I really love, but it scares me spitless to meet so many new people and not know where I fit in. I did a lot better today and didn't walk as many laps to the restroom and back so I'd look like I was doing something or going somewhere. When we walked in the moms were handed a colorfully wrapped card, and I thought that was very nice. I also thought that would be it but it was a shortlived relief. I think it was near the end of the singing time that they had all the mothers stand. I stood along with the rest and he just talked and talked (it probably wasn't really that long; just felt like it) and then everyone clapped. I sat down, the rest of the moms stayed standing and the clapping went on and on. Once I sat down my husband put his arm around me and kept patting my shoulder to the point of it being overdone. What can I say? This is the year he finally got how rough Mother's Day is for me. I wonder if he'll remember next year.
I get tired of telling my husband things that really matter in life, and then he forgets. He has never remembered Mother's Day until this year. I buy his mom's cards and tell him to sign it. The last few years I've told him to buy his own card for his mom. So he forgets things I tell him, like how much I hate Mother's Day and why. Today he remembered.
We're going to this new church, which I really love, but it scares me spitless to meet so many new people and not know where I fit in. I did a lot better today and didn't walk as many laps to the restroom and back so I'd look like I was doing something or going somewhere. When we walked in the moms were handed a colorfully wrapped card, and I thought that was very nice. I also thought that would be it but it was a shortlived relief. I think it was near the end of the singing time that they had all the mothers stand. I stood along with the rest and he just talked and talked (it probably wasn't really that long; just felt like it) and then everyone clapped. I sat down, the rest of the moms stayed standing and the clapping went on and on. Once I sat down my husband put his arm around me and kept patting my shoulder to the point of it being overdone. What can I say? This is the year he finally got how rough Mother's Day is for me. I wonder if he'll remember next year.
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