Why would I share my pain?

 The internet is a funny thing.  Even if we don't think anyone will read what we write--and it's one of hundreds of comments, someone might.  

I have always been very matter of fact about things.  I can say things without emotion that are shocking really.  It is my way of accepting them, acknowledging them, but not getting lost in them.  

Pain has the ability to swallow us up, shape us, or refine us.  I want the pain I've walked through to be used by God to refine me--to help me grow and love others better.  

One side effect of being matter of fact and being very honest about things is that it can lead people to believe that I've shared the whole picture when I've only shared a part.  Over the years, I've learned to be discerning.  There are some people that I have treasured as friends who I can really share not only the matter of fact things, but the emotions that I've wrestled with that have accompanied those matter of fact things.  

A month ago, I read a book by Lisa Terkeurst: Forgiving What You Can't Forget.  I can see that it was the right time to read it before my life changes in some big ways.  

I am the same person that I was almost four years ago, but at the same time I am a different person.  God has taught me some important and significant lessons.  I'm grateful.  

I came here with a lot of pain in my heart.  I was raised to hold grudges and be bitter.  That doesn't mean I was bitter about every hurt I experienced.  But, there were some really big hurts that have stayed in my heart a long time.  This book was really good for me and helped me grab hold of something I want.  

I was describing the book to a good friend the other day and she asked me, "What did it say that struck you?"  I said it begins by talking about wanting to look back and see the good, not just looking back and seeing the bad.  This is what I want for my life.  Have you ever felt that--that when you look back, you only see the bad?  The book goes on to talk about collecting the dots, connecting the dots, and correcting the dots.  The author then goes on to talk about healthy boundaries.  Her discussion is different than what I found in Cloud and Townsend's very popular book about boundaries and I found it to be really helpful.  The questions she asks are probing and helpful.  

Four years ago, we moved twice in a year.  Now, it's time to move again.  The wheels started turning this week.  I'm trying to do my best to trust and not stress over things I can't control.  I've started my notebook of lists with a page for every day to help me remember things I don't want to forget.  Amidst all that is going on, I have much to adjust to.  

We are going back.

Back to a place that is both new and old to us at the same time.  

I want to take back with me what I learned.  I want to remember.  Here's the biggest things I've learned...

1.  It's okay to be proud of my children.  I don't mean a sinful type of pride in which one thinks they are better than others.  What I'm referring to is a deep joy that comes from seeing our children in their uniqueness, seeing what they do and accomplish, and seeing who they are--and how God has created them.  

I have learned to celebrate and rejoice with my children and to rejoice and celebrate with others over their children!  As I've been preparing to leave where we live, I have called several friends who've been a big influence on me to thank them.  

2.  The Christian community we have been a part of here has extended beyond the church walls.  We did not find close friends in church where we live, but we found them in the homeschooling community and in our neighborhood.  For a lot of years, I have felt it on my heart to love our neighbors.  Before we lived here, I volunteered a lot at our church.  But, when we moved here, I began volunteering with all of the activities my kids joined.  It has been a good change for our family.  

3.  Inclusion is intentional and exclusion can be intentional or unintentional.  My daughter Autumn told me that it hurts more if exclusion is unintentional than intentional.  I thought this was very interesting--it was the opposite of what I expected her to say.  I think it is because "unintentional" means the excluder doesn't see her.  That is harder than if someone does and rejects her because of who she is.  I hadn't looked at it before this way, but once she said it I understood.  She articulated something I haven't been able to.

When we moved here, and before, I had told my kids that if someone doesn't want to be their friend, then to go find someone who does.  Before we moved here, my kids had experienced both intentional and unintentional exclusion, but the majority of it done by kids was intentional.  There were experiences they had that had shaped them and marked them.  

I had experienced unintentional exclusion by adults and groups we were a part of so I hadn't realized that the two types of exclusion felt different and hurt differently.

Here, they were unintentionally excluded at the churches we visited because the other kids were more concerned about being included themselves than about including others.  Adults around them hadn't parented teenagers yet and so they didn't see what was going on.  

But, what did I learn from realizing these things?  First, I learned to pursue intentional inclusion and to continue teaching my kids to do so.  Second, I learned why parents choose churches based on where their children feel welcome, included, and comfortable.  Third, I found the words to explain to others in the future why inclusion is important and how exclusion can make people feel.  

Lastly, I learned that God uses hard things to open and shut doors and direct our paths.  Sometimes what seems like rejection is really just a closed door.  I have a choice--to dwell on the closed doors or to focus on looking for the open ones and being grateful.  I am choosing the latter now.  A few years ago, I focused on the rejection instead.  My perspective has changed and I am choosing to teach my kids to grab hold of that perspective as well.  

An Obituary for my Dad

 I learned last night that my father died earlier this week.  

There are moments in life when you feel like you should feel a certain way.  You should have a reaction, yet you don't.  This is one of those moments for me.  

When I got the news, I searched for an obituary, but found none.  

Who was my dad?  

He was a man with a large presence.  His physical presence was something he used to make himself known.  People either got along with him or they didn't.  And if they didn't, they either walked away or stayed silent.  

He was a man who pulled himself up by his bootstraps after flunking out of college his freshman year.  He attended community college for a year, got straight A's, and then transferred back in and went on to graduate with a bachelor's degree.  I think it was in business.

He was a man who always had ideas about how to make money, though he was very quick to spend on credit.  

He was a man, who after divorcing my mom, stayed married to the same woman of his third marriage, for almost thirty years.  They were two peas in a pod.  

He was also a man who I haven't spoken to in years.  

The greatest gift my dad gave me was the belief that I can do anything I set my mind to.  This is truly a great thing that he drilled into my head and made me believe.  It has helped me overcome hesitations I have had over the years about learning a new topic or task.  

He was also a parent who I didn't want to be like.  

I have found in parenting that it is very easy to fall into the trap--both good and bad--to think that your child's actions are about you.  The vast majority of the time they aren't.  A lot of years ago, a friend explained to me that her strong willed son wanted to control his environment, not her.  He had in his mind what should be done and the way to do it.  It wasn't because he was being intentionally disobedient, but rather his mind was so strong willed it plowed forward and pushed boundaries.  I was like this.  Two of my children are like this.  I will get an idea in my head and it takes over.  I have taught myself to be more aware of other people's feelings and opinions, but my will is strong.  

When I was a child and disobeyed my father's directions or didn't meet his expectations, he felt this was a reflection on him.  I know that in 7th grade, I asked myself if I was getting good grades for him or for me. I made a decision at that time that I should do a good job because I should do my best, not because he wanted me to get an A.  

Who was my dad?  He was...

A man who told me to call him Dad because he thought he deserved to be called Dad and not father.  

A man who didn't know his two children and five grandchildren because he disowned them many years ago.

A man who could rationalize anything.

A man who told me that you should only be friends with people who you benefit from.  

A man with an intimidating presence who said he would hurt anyone back more who hurt him.  

A man who chose the life he wanted and the people who he wanted in it and who he didn't.

But, who was my dad?

He is also a man who I have forgiven.  There are sometimes people in our lives that we wish we could have had healthy relationships with.  I wish I could have had a good relationship with my dad.  I wish he could have known and valued me and my children for who we are.  I had to set boundaries with my dad to protect myself and my family.  He chose not to change.  A few months before his death, I received an email that showed me he hadn't changed, but it also made one thing very clear to me.  He was living the life he wanted to live and that he had chosen.  

Often when difficult people in our lives pass away, we whitewash who they were.  I will not whitewash who my dad was, but I can forgive him.  

There is no clear transition to the second part of this post, but I need to connect it here.

When my son woke up, I asked him to read this.  It reminded me of how he writes and thinks.  He said it made him sad and asked why I would write this post.  I explained that I wrote it in case it might encourage someone else--to know that you don't have to whitewash the past, but that you can forgive.  Over the years, I have made a lot of friends and have had many conversations about having boundaries in difficult relationships with parents.  Many of us have not had the relationships with our parents that we wished for. But, lacking those relationships doesn't mean that we are unloveable or not of value.  God loves me and He loves you.  I have seen in my life that while God may not have given me some of the relationships I thought I needed and wanted, He has given me others.  He has provided and cares for me through people He has brought across my path.  Not having a good relationships with a parent can leave a hole.  God can fill that hole--but sometimes we just have to see it from a different viewpoint to see how He has done that with his love and with the love of others.  

I am often amazed at how God does this.  

My family and I are walking through a crazy, stressful season.  It's not going to end for at least another month.  But, amidst that, God placed it on the heart of an old friend to daily reach out to me and check on me.  Amidst her busy life, she has taken the time to message me and encourage me as I have struggled to hold onto hope and do what I need to do.  I have needed her "You can do it!"s  and I have been very thankful for them.  I am thankful that God loves me and knows what I need.  

Things people shouldn't say

 A month ago, I was talking with an older woman who was making excuses for the decisions someone had made.  The excuses, I knew, were really the reasons for her sympathy for her bad choices.  I, too, felt sympathy for the choices that had been made and the situation that had resulted.  But, my perspective is a little different.  I also felt that the woman had choices about how to respond to her own pain.

Years ago, my best friend had a friend who had been abused by her husband for many years.  My friend shared with me that her friend had become an abuser towards her children, taking her frustration and stress out on her kids instead of protecting them.  After the woman later got a divorce and entered her senior years, she couldn't understand why her children didn't like her or want to be around her.  She didn't recognize that she had become an abuser herself.  

In life, when we are faced with stressful situations, it can be tempting to lash out at the people we believe will love us unconditionally.  But, I think we should strive and try our best not to do this.

My dad once told me when I was young that if someone hurt him that he was going to hurt them back more.  I remember hearing him say this and I remember immediately having the thought that if someone hurt me, then they are hurting themselves.  If I lashed out at them in return, it would continue a damaging cycle of hurting each other back and forth.  

As a result, I have often walked away when people have hurt me instead of lashing back.  This has been hard because I've ended up with a lot of wounds that hurt for a long time.  I've had to give my pain to the Lord over and over.  I struggled for years when I was young wondering if God cared about my pain, but I learned He did.  I realize that I come across to people as a strong person, who knows who she is and isn't.  This is true.  I am strong.  God made me this way and I have to be strong.  My family needs me to be.  

I had one pastor once tell me, "Giving Up is not an Option."  

He was right.  

Yesterday, I sat on the back porch of my home and something my dad emailed me a month ago came to my mind.  My dad is dying.  He reached out to me through a family member because he wanted to email me.  The purpose of his email?  

To tell me that he has been better off without me in his life for 25 years.  He is happier than he has ever been and I am his motivation.  There were no questions about me or my family.  There was no, "How are you?"  

You see, my dad disowned me early in my 20s, so we haven't spoken by phone or email in years.  But, even so, what a horrible thing to say to their child!  

I know I have a choice.  I can let this define me and mire me down.  Or I can realize that my dad is a very broken man who doesn't know the Lord.  I can cling to God, knowing that He made me and He loves me.  

Over the years, there have been other things that have been said to me...

"You're unloveable.  I tried, but I just can't love you." an ex-boyfriend years and years ago.

"Everyone doesn't like you." just a few years ago by someone I thought was a friend.

"We don't like you and this is why..." back in 7th grade by a group of girls.

Words are daggers.  They can be hateful and damaging.  Without knowing and understanding that God loved me, I don't know how I would be standing today as healthy as I am.  

Each of those words has a story behind it.... An ex-boyfriend who told the same thing to four other girls he dated because the problem was really his own issues...a woman who felt insecure because I thought a group of people should change and welcome people more...and a group of 7th grade girls who systematically turned on each other after they turned on me.  

James 3: 5-12 talks about the fires that our tongues can start.  It is so true!  

5 Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. 6 The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.

7 All kinds of animals, birds, reptiles and sea creatures are being tamed and have been tamed by mankind, 8 but no human being can tame the tongue.  It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. 9 With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God's likeness.  10 Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing.  My brothers and sisters, this should not be.  11 Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring?  12 My brothers and sisters, can a fig tree bear olives or a grapevine bear figs?  Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water.  

I've written about this same idea before on this blog.  But, it's on my heart this morning because the Lord is having to remind me about it again.  Each time the words that have hurt me creep in me, I have to remember... "God loves me, my family loves me, and I do have friends."