The Gift July 12, 2008

I had a dream.  In my dream there was a very steep hill.  Two people were struggling to climb up the hill at the same time.  One was climbing from the left.  One was climbing from the right.  The two people were each carrying a gift.  They were making their way up the hill so that they could meet each other for the first time and exchange their gifts.  When they finally reached the top, I noticed that both the people looked exactly alike.  The two identical people exchanged their gifts and opened them.  When they had unwrapped them, they held their gifts up next to each other and smiled.  Each gift looked exactly like the other one.

Both the people are me.  I am both the strong person who survived and the weak person who was ignored.  I am both capable and helpless.  I am both whole and broken.  I am both forgiving and angry.  I am both healed and deeply wounded.

The gift is that I know this.  Because I know, I feel both stronger and more vulnerable than I have ever been before.  Because I know, I feel both more courageous and more frightened than I used to be.  Because I know, I feel both more prepared and less ready to live out the rest of my life.  Because I know, I feel more truly myself than I even knew was possible.  The gift is knowing the truth.  The gift is being Me.

My Birthday Wish List June 28, 2008

Some of you have read the story of my 12th birthday present.  If not, you can find it under ‘A Farewell to Shame’ category.  The story title is ‘12′.  You should know that ‘A Farewell to Shame’ is my story and I posted it in the order I wrote it which means it’s backwards.  So if you want the whole story start at the bottom and read your way to the top.  As always I welcome your comments and feedback.  I wrote it a couple of years ago and decided to post it here a little at a time.  I have a few more thoughts in that series left to post.  I’ll recap the story ‘12′ now and explain how the story has developed in the last few weeks.  God has swooped into this dark place in my heart bringing rescue.  This chapter in my life’s story has left me in stunned disbelief — overwhelmed with God’s love, wisdom, and gentleness toward me. 

In September of 1978 I was turning 12 years old. When my birthday rolled around my mom gave me a blank piece of paper and told me to go into my room and make a birthday wish list. She told me to list everything I wanted and wished for, even a little. She told me to take as much time as I needed and make it as long as I wanted. But when I brought the list back to her she pushed it away without looking at it and told me to go back to my room and go through the list and convince myself that I didn’t really want any of those things. She said to think about the bad characteristics of every item until I truly didn’t want it any more. She said that when I was done I would have her birthday gift to me: contentment, the secret to happiness.

Even though I knew my mom was very unpredictable I didn’t see that coming. I obeyed her and unwished every single desire I had completely and fully. Looking back it seems to me that on that day I with my own free will took a great big knife and carved my heart out piece by piece until it was all gone. This seemingly minor event has had it’s deadly hooks in me ever since.

I finally took this memory to God and asked Him to fix it so that I could do more than just survive it, but really heal from it. I asked Him to redeem it. After some listening I ‘heard’ the answer: make another list. OK, I thought but I want to take my time. Take as much time as you need and make it as long as you want. So I took a blank piece of paper and started filling it with wishes. I’ve grown so much in the last couple of years. I’ve learned to desire. I’ve learned to ask. I’ve learned to pray. So it didn’t seem hard to start a good list. All my usual requests flowed out, prayers for my daughters to be safe and happy, prayers to grow in my marriage, prayers for my church, money to go on a trip, you get the idea. Slowly it dawned on me that I was making the wrong list.  My assignment was not to make wishes for me now, but to make a list for the little girl in 1978 who was turning twelve.  My job was to become willing to wish good things for her. 

Ouch.  It’s hard to describe the walls of defense that flew up in my heart in response to God’s request.  To wish good things for her was beyond my meager ability.  Any fleeting thought or passing flirtation with desire was quickly squelched by an iron fist of presumed rationality.   But I have learned to trust God’s gentle whispers — His respectful shepherding of my heart and healing.  With tremendous effort I was able to come up with three wishes (1 to 3 on my list below).  

Wishes 1 to 3 were absolutely the best I could do.  So swallowing my pride, I turned to my friends for help.  And through their eyes and their hearts for me, for the girl I once was, I came to a realization.  I wish I had good friends when I was 12.  One by one the wishes came, hopes for the precious gift of time and shared adventure with friends of the heart.  Here it is, my restored 12 year old birthday wish list, as Tamarshope said so well my ‘Talitha Koum’.

1) I wish I had food that tasted good and had enough of it — including the right to eat junk food, fast food, and candy sometimes.

 

2) I wish I had clean, good clothes that fit. I guess if I could pick what I wore I would have gone preppy. ‘Izod’ shirts, sweaters, straight leg jeans, and Nike tennis shoes with a bright red swoosh.

 

3) I wish I had a warm winter coat. Maybe a colorful ski jacket.

 

4) R., I wish we could have celebrated our birthdays together by making beaded leather necklaces with our names spelled out on them. Then I wish we could have spent the rest of the afternoon outside by a river in the woods with a rope swing that goes out over the water and taken turns swinging out and jumping off.

 

5) D., I wish we could spend an afternoon together playing beautiful music. I have always wanted to play piano well too so I wish we could have played an amazing piano duet together in front of our friends and family. I wish we had a gifted and kind teacher who believed in us.

 

6) W.,, I wish we could spend a day at Disney together. I wish I could have asked you to ride Space Mountain with me and to talk to me through the ride — especially the first part — so I wouldn’t be afraid.

 

7) B.,, I wish we could have gone to a NYC ballet together and that you could have explained everything you know and love about ballet. Then I wish we could have met the dancers and talked and laughed with them.

 

8.) P.,, I wish we had a pair of brand new yellow Suzuki dirtbikes. I wish I could have spent an afternoon with you in a big open field making a track with banks and turns and ramps. I wish you would use your encouraging spirit to talk me through the finer points of riding and jumping until we could fly around it like real riders.

 

9) K.,, I wish we could spend the afternoon together planning the ultimate 12 year old birthday party — our birthday party. I would value your excellent taste when it comes to party favors, decorations, guest list, food, and entertainment. I would gratefully accept your gift of the stunning pink dress and purse and I would ask you to accept my gift to you in return, a matching peacock blue dress with matching shoes and a matching purse filled with monogrammed embroidered hankies, hair ribbons, a journal and of course a beautiful real silver fountain pen inlaid with aquamarine gems that writes in peacock blue ink.

 

10) I wish I could have spent an afternoon on a trail ride with S. and F. It seems right that the three of us are in on this one wish. I wish we could ride somewhere out West and share a sunset together.

 

11) I wish I could spend an afternoon alone with E. in the beautiful garden, playing croquet, running through the flowers, all the things you described. I’d like to sing ‘church songs’ with you (I’ll harmonize) and see all your drawings. But mostly I’d just like to get to talk heart to heart so I could get to know you for the beautiful young woman you are.

 

12) (Wished for me by H.) My heart’s deep desire when we are twelve is to go for a walk in the woods with you.  I want to splash through streams and dry in the dappley forest sun.  I want to find a hidden spot where Lady’s Slippers grow.  I want to leap from huge rock to huge rock.  I want to hear a mighty crash in the trees and grab your hand and meet your eyes with terror-citement and wonder if we are in danger.  I want to continue forward and come face to face with a big, surprised white-tail buck, who gazes thoughtfully at us for a moment before crashing off again into the underbrush.  I want to discover the entrance to a cave and crawl in. I want to quickly realize that the light disappears within a few steps, but feel a big space open in front of us.  I want to stand there with you, in the twilit transition, being pulled forward into the inky unknown and backward into the safe sunlight.  I want you to convince me to shuffle carefully in much further than feels safe to me.  I want to coax you back to the entrance with a fervent promise to come back tomorrow with flashlights.  I want to stumble into an ancient, overgrown apple orchard.  I want to find a couple of lumpy, deformed, little apples and find them to be shockingly delicious.  I want us to notice a dark clump high in the trees and realize it is a porcupine.  I want to discuss the pros and cons of climbing the tree for a closer look.  I want to see something fascinating that we can’t explain or understand.  

 

13) I wish I could spend an afternoon with 12 year old G. playing new records and then going to see Grease. It seems strange that this wish would make me nervous, but my mom had me convinced that if I listened to rock and roll and watched ‘worldly’ movies that I’d end up pregnant or strung out on drugs. Embarrassing, but true and it made me afraid all the time of the other humans in the world and how they might ‘influence’ me. My mom’s ’safe’ influence on the other hand was bad for my heart. G., I trust you. My 12 year old self is ready to try something a little ‘grown up’ now.

 

14) I wish I could spend an afternoon roller skating with L. — each of us wearing a brand new pair of birthday skates. I wish we could top off the afternoon by eating home made ice cream so cold our brains would freeze.

 

15) I wish I could spend a 12-year old afternoon with M. talking about books. I’d give her my favorite set in English – probably A Wrinkle in Time, The Wind in the Door, and A Swiftly Tilting Planet. I wish she’d give me a set of beginner books in Japanese and spend a few hours helping me understand the basics of how to read them. 

 

16)  I wish I could share my secrets and dreams with M. as her pen pal.  We would look forward to each letter and share promises of eternal friendship and make solemn plans to meet face to face.

 

17)  I wish I could spend time with C. writing, practicing, blocking, making costumes for and performing in a homemade play with her and her younger brothers and sisters that we could perform for all our friends.

 

18.) I’ve been saving this one. I wish I was Tamarshope’s sister.

 

19) Of all the people I know, I wish I could spend a 12-year old afternoon outside with 12-year old C. working on my jump-shot. I wish with his coaching that I got really good and that in the evening after it got cooler but but before it got really dark we could drink a tall glass of pink lemonade left over from the birthday party and then play 2 on 2 against a team of friendly rivals and beat them fair and well.

 

20) I wish I could spend a 12-year old afternoon with my 12-year old (meant-to-be-husband-one-day) M. playing on my brand new Pong game which he would have given me for my 12-year-old birthday. I wish we would laugh and share our separate future-dreams while playing and that our hands would ‘accidentally’ brush up against each other when we both reached for the reset button. I wish that while we were lying on our bellies on the living-room carpet looking up at the ‘big TV’ with dust swimming in the sunbeam shining through the big picture window that he would reach over and leave a gentle 12-year old kiss on my cheek. My first kiss.

 

 

The Divine Embrace April 9, 2008

For several months I’ve understood that I have an assignment from God and that assignment is to grow in compassion. To understand His great love for me and to accept it. Partly due to the assignment itself I have fallen back into a relapse of self-injury and the obsession and humiliation that goes along with it. I think coming face to face with the compassion void in my life brought me right to the heart of the painful wound I have suffered since before I can remember.  I’m posting that story here a little bit at a time (I’m about half way through) in the category called ‘A Farewell to Shame’.

So the painful truth is that no one cared about what I suffered. No one rescued me. No one brought justice. Not my family, not my school, not my doctors, and not even my church. I’ve been working for a while now trying to understand better what I need to do and to ask God to make clear the path that I can follow to Him.

Last Thursday night in the middle of the night I woke up suddenly. Throughout most of my life I’ve struggled with nightmares/flashbacks of trauma that interfere with my sleep. I woke up and felt a sense of warfare and the need to pray.  At that time I had one of the most amazing experiences of my life. An encounter with God. I suddenly felt His presence in the room. As I was lying there in my bed on my side with my hands in front of me I felt God’s presence come along beside me. He put his arms over my arms and held me — surrounded and embraced me. Now I’m an old married woman and in the 16 years I’ve been married I’ve received literally thousands of hugs but no human embrace has ever soothed and satisfied my soul the way this experience did. In my pain/suffering/trauma I always feel the pain focused in the pit of my stomach. The feeling of a raw open wound deep in the center of my abdomen, located there but not physically there. While I was lying in my bed with God’s arms around me I felt a warm explosion exactly at that spot inside me. A feeling of peace and healing washed over me and I felt fully at rest. But that wasn’t all, next I felt a strong heaviness and warmth on the backs of my hands. They felt so warm and heavy that I couldn’t lift them if I tried but I didn’t want to move but just lie there and feel it.

Since that night I’ve been given a way out of the obsession of self-injury. When I’m pulled and drawn to raise my hand to injure myself I turn my hand over and with the back of my hand I use the Father’s touch to stroke and soothe my face. I think about His compassion for me and how He suffered with me in what I suffered just as I suffer with Him in what He suffered on the cross. It’s so raw and so personal and so childlike that it’s hard for me to write these words but I want to share and spread hope because I know what it feels like to struggle and I know I’m not the only one.

There’s one more thing. I have ‘quit’ many times. More times than I can count. Each time I strongly resolve never to go near this sin again. I remind myself that I’ve been healed and cured and that there’s no need to ever fail again. Then each time I’ve been tempted and each time I’ve stumbled and relapsed I’ve felt such intense shame. I doubted that what deliverance God brought was real and I’ve felt that His efforts were wasted on me because I so quickly forgot His help. I’ve even been angry that He didn’t stop me from falling again so quickly into sin. That if there was a way out I didn’t see it and didn’t take it so either God was blowing it or I was blowing it and either way I was lost.

This time is so different. I have made no pledge, no promise, no threat to myself that I will never hurt myself again. God has shown me that He will LET me do it again — He will not stop me or distract me or control me. And that’s not to say that He doesn’t care what I do — He cares very deeply about everything I do. But I have a choice. I can choose to sin. Each time I want to sin I can use it as a chance to experience His compassion and be reminded of His love. He won’t take away that desire, it will always be a part of me. But if I fail He won’t turn His face away from me. He’ll give me another chance — as many as I need.

So thank you for reading this long post. I hope someone understands what I’m trying to say and I hope someone here finds the courage to walk another day in the light of God’s love.

Resurrection Musings March 23, 2008

I spent a year in the Ural mountain reigon of Russia.  Such a long hard cold winter.  Such bitter bleakness.  We were close enough to the Arctic Circle that light itself was a precious commodity.  It was hard to stay motivated.  It was easy to slog along in my rut, thinking, ‘yep, this is life — this is the best it gets’.  Then finally one morning when I had just about resigned myself to be forever grasped by winter’s ruthlessness I woke up and sensed a subtle change.  A voice of hope deep inside me whispered, ‘take heart, Spring is on it’s way’.                                                                                                                                                                                                        Spring WAS on it’s way –and what a Spring it was!  That year my eyes were opened for the first time to the wonders of Spring’s glory.  I realized that every spring I had ever experienced was a pale weak imitation to the live-action reality that is a Russian Spring.  The deep rich green trees and vibrant flowers came to life before my eyes.  The air had a fresh clean newness that if it could be bottled would sell in the billions.  The world woke up and shook its sleepy head and I felt as if I was watching it all at ten times normal speed.                                                                                                                                                                                                              Sometimes I wonder if God toys with me.  Makes me wait for things.  What’s that about?  Is it the joy He sees in me when I finally get what I want?  Did the waiting make the giving sweeter?  Or does the waiting and the pain it brings along produce some whole and healing effect deep inside me?  Silent and invisible work being done in me while I’m not paying attention?   In my impatience, my longing to be in charge of the schedule, to plan out when each step is going to happen I miss something weighty and important.  I think it’s the fact that God loves the process.  And maybe that the realest and deepest work takes time. I’m waiting Father, for Your work in me.  Bring me to back life — like Your Spring — like Your Son.

Letting go of perfection…. February 24, 2008

Do you ever think it is dangerous to let the real, mistake-making you show? I did, so I fashioned a disguise, a mask called perfection.

Perfection can be defined as an unhealthy pattern of thoughts and behaviors that we use to conceal our flaws. It has two dimensions, relational and personal. On the personal level it serves to compensate rather than conceal. Relationally, it is intended to conceal our flaws.

A perfectionist fears failing in any area of life. And when we do fail it results in self-criticism which leads to loss of self-esteem.

Is it possible that perfectionism is a rejection of biblical truth about our sin-brokenness?

We may look like butterflies to others but for the perfectionist we know we are really just caterpillars, only no one has noticed yet. Shame bound perfectionists live with what I’ve heard described as the Imposter Phenomenon.  It’s a name given to the experience of an individual who has the feeling that if they did achieve something of significance or importance, they really just faked their way through it. What’s more, eventually someone is going to recognize it and label them as inadequate and unworthy at any moment now.

Having lived this way for years I can testify that there is hope. The sense of relief and freedom that came once I was released from this bondage was worth the effort it took to change. But change came only as I made new choices.

The kingdom of God is truly a paradox, and being released from feeling shame over my own imperfections is found in embracing these paradoxes and when I do, they are liberating.

The liberating paradox of my worth: I must accept that I am unworthy but not worthless. We may spend a lot of time trying to figure out who we are. But our Creator has the truth and we find His answer at the cross and the liberating paradox that it represents.

The liberating paradox of God’s grace: I spent so many years trying to hide the fact that there was anything wrong with me. It’s when I can acknowledge my own sinful imperfection and trust Jesus that I receive God’s grace. Embracing this liberating paradox releases me from shame because it shatters the chains that kept me from being all God plans for me.

The liberating paradox of potential: Perfectionism paralyses. When I can embrace my limited potential it frees me to achieve more of my potential. If I can accept the truth that neither myself or anyone else is perfect it then liberates me to dream, take a chance, dare and be more than I ever could be when constrained by the grip of perfectionism.

As we grow, we learn more about the dynamics of functional and dysfunctional families and that enables us to perceive our childhood experiences more accurately. And as we understand the effects of those childhood experiences we are better able to understand why we make the current choices and relationships. I learned to exchange my “perception”.  I had to recognize that I so often attempted to create my own self-righteous perfection rather than accepting God’s way and exchange the truth of God for the lies.

Yet, as believers in Christ we all too often skip over the most powerful resource we have, the indwelling Holy Spirit. He goes unnoticed or unused by us when we so desperately need His guidance and wisdom. Quoting Dan B. Allender, “God’s path is paradoxical. We are drawn to Christ because we want life, and want it more abundant. He gives us life that leads to abundance, via brokenness, poverty, persecution and death. The life He invites us to lead causes us to lose ourselves so that we can find ourselves, to lose our life so that we can have life.”

The work of the Holy Spirit does not lead to sinless perfectionism. That awaits us in heaven. Change is possible but not perfected until heaven.

If we are going to recover from our perfectionist why of thinking and behaving we need to understand that it is a continual choice based on truth. This truth sets us free from the oppression of trying to live up to the impossible, high self-imposed standards we’ve set for ourselves.

I am learning to not fear imperfection realizing that it doesn’t reveal my unacceptable difference from others. It reveals I am human. Choosing to be real instead of perfect is far easier and better for me….it allows me to enjoy life as a journey rather than perfection as a destination.

Continuing on with ambivalence…. January 9, 2008

Dr. Dan Allender again states that,” Intimacy begets longing, and longing is interpreted as sexual. Passion destroys; therefore, it must either be avoided or conquered.”
How very true is this statement, the wound deepens as shame and contempt continue their hellish cycle. I began as a young woman to develop a deep hatred of longing and so I learned to deaden my soul.  I could describe myself as a house with the lights on, but never at home. Never feeling alive within myself. Deadening my soul in order to survive, afraid of feeling anything too deeply. Disengaging myself from the wounds of my soul.

Again Dr. Allender says “ Ambivalence robs a person of the joy of being alive as a man or woman. And makes pleasure-any experience of enjoyment- highly suspect and dangerous.”
It would take me years before I could begin to enjoy being a woman and to let compliments whether from my husband or others to begin to penetrate the outer layer of protection that I had so firmly built in place.

When I was in my thirties I received from my friend, Sandi, a porcelain figurine of a little girl kneeling to pray. In her arms she held a teddy bear and surrounding her were tiny rosebuds. Her hair was done up in curls with rosebuds and daisies scattered through out. Her dress pink and frilly…. she was adorable and it played the tune “Jesus loves me”.
This little figurine portrayed to me the angelic appearance of what childhood should be, innocent, pure, and unblemished.
Along with the gift was a card that read, “If I could I would give you back the childhood innocence and the carefree happiness and unconditional love that was denied you but I can’t my friend. But I can give you this beautiful little girl. It’s from the little girl inside of me to the little girl inside of you. And as I give you this gift I send up a prayer that someday soon the little girl inside of you will allow the woman you’ve become to look at herself in the mirror and honestly love who she sees there, just as she knows her precious Jesus does.”

I thanked her in my usual soulless way. (by the way, after I began to heal Sandi and I talked about this as I felt true remorse for my lack of genuine response, I thank God that she saw through my walls and saw who Jesus saw).

Later after I went home I stood in front of a mirror. And as I looked at the woman in the mirror I knew that I didn’t love the woman I saw there. All I saw was the little girl who had been programmed to believe she was of no value.
I also saw at that time that my style of relating to people was like plastic fruit. The appearance was good and tasty, but something real, alive and nourishing was missing. I had learned to live without passion for anything or anyone, other than the drive to stay sufficiently in control. Because in truth, deep down I was afraid that my unseen, fragile core would come unglued if the deep realities were faced.

Receiving the gift and card made me take a long, honest look at myself. And for the first time in my life I opened the window to my soul and I began to grieve.

I will leave off here for now and continue later.