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.