A Poem of Lament

To start this series from the beginning, click here.

Alone in the wilderness,

I built a fire, constructed a shelter 

and surrendered to life there

waiting for my name to be called through the trees. 

Utterly alone, 

I thought I heard a voice, 

my name being called through the trees,

saying it's time to go home. 

It was a sound mirage, 

So I've learned to live life alone in the wilderness

Slowly building a life there,

surrendered to what is. 

I don't know if I will ever hear that voice, 

the one telling me I'm safe, and it's time to go home,

My soul hovers in the middle place,

between despair at being lost in the wilderness and trusting that I will eventually make it home. 

Like a Bubble Boy, I exist in the invisible wilderness bubble,

I see other people, but I'm alone there. 

I hear other people, but I'm alone there. 

I speak to other people, but I'm alone there. 

I am spoken to, but I am alone there. 

And that's the worst kind of alone.

But this I know,

He who formed the trees I rest in,

and built me in my mother's womb,

Hears my voice as it calls His name through the trees.

The God who brought me to this place, will take me home. 

Grief: Not Belonging

I don’t belong, but it isn’t anyone’s fault. Not theirs. Not mine. I just . . . don’t belong. They aren’t my people and I’m not theirs.

And that's okay. But sometimes it's not.

I've learned that they know. They know I don't belong. There is a cognitive and verbal acknowledgment that I am "other". I am left out, and left behind in favor of others. 

I accepted this abandonment based upon the premise that it wasn't intentional, that they didn't know what they were doing. 

Questions surface within my heart about what their knowing means about me. What is wrong with me? 

Shame overwhelms me. I have caused this. I must be unworthy of love.

And then the truth bursts in like a cowboy in a saloon. It began long before I could have had any culpability in it. 

The truth is that it has nothing to do with me. The preference for others is not about me. It can't be, because they don't know me well enough to make that judgment. This assignment of otherness isn't based upon some characteristic of mine that is found wanting. It's based upon a lack of knowledge. 

So, what now?

Acceptance. 

Even if they know they prefers others, they probably don't know what this has done to me. They probably don't know that this has left me alone and vulnerable. They don't know that like a sheep left behind in a wilderness, I was taken out by the roaring lion seeking to devour me. 

Even if they know there is favoritism, they don't know what it has cost me. And they don't know what it has cost them. 

So, I accept what is. I forgive them for the favoritism, and I forgive myself for the things I did when I was vying for their affection. 

I don't belong, and I don't know whose fault it is. It isn't theirs, and it isn't mine. I just . . . don't belong. 

How Bad Marriage Counseling Helped Save our Marriage

(I'm sharing this with Michael's permission.) 

It felt excruciating, and I couldn't see past the current circumstances. 

Each time my mind would run the gamut of possibilities, and I tried each one on. I imagined what it would be like and feel like to take whatever steps I saw as possible. What would it be like to get a divorce? 

I didn't allow myself to just think of the relief of not being linked to this person anymore. I imagined the hard things. I imagined sending my children off to spend the weekend with their dad and some other woman. 

As I allowed myself to explore the possibilities, I always came back to "the best possible scenario is making this work". And if I am going to make this work, I'm not going to settle for making it work. I'm going to make it good. 

I did that for years before he really started making an effort to change things. For years, I was the one reading books. I was the one trying to get better. 

And the truth is, with only me working with intention, our marriage got exponentially better. 

Even when we went to marriage counseling after being married for 13 years, when the counselor asked us to each rate our marriage, Michael rated our marriage much higher than I did.

He didn't know what marriage could be like, he thought that not fighting was the limit of what marriage could be. He didn't know that we could live in intimate communion. And honestly, I didn't yet know what it could feel like and what it could be. 

Funny enough, bad marriage counseling was the catalyst for a revolution in our relationship. The counselor unfairly blamed me for some of Michael's issues, and that triggered Michael to clearly see that I was not to blame. His drawing that conclusion helped me to understand that I wasn't to blame as well. This shift allowed me to let go of his part of things, and provoked him to step up his game. 

(Don't get me wrong. Originally, I was the source of a lot, and maybe MOST, of our problems. But I had been working so hard for so long that I had improved things as much as I could without him making the same commitment to the marriage. But even at this point in our marriage, I still blamed myself for everything.)

Here are some things we've learned:

1. A lack of conflict is not a sign that things are good. There is conflict in good marriages. The only way to have true communion is by showing up as our authentic selves. Being authentic can lead to disagreement, and that's okay. 

2. One person working on themselves can make a big difference in marriage. 

3. The first step to a good marriage is each partner working on themselves. This is more effective than pointing out the other persons faults. The only person I can change is myself. 

4. The most effective way to change my spouse is through prayer, doing my best to fulfill my own role, and honestly and lovingly communicating my needs and boundaries outside of moments of conflict. 

5. The best marriages have conflict. One or both partners are hungry, annoyed, triggered, tired, stressed, etc., sometimes and may not react in the absolute optimal way. It's okay to disagree, argue and have times that don't fit into Hallmark movies or "happily ever afters". It doesn't mean the marriage is bad. Maybe we need to work on things, However, we probably won't ever be able to work on it enough that there are absolutely never ever times when we disagree. 

For us, I think the benefits we received from bad marriage counseling is a very real manifestation of God working all things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. He used bad marriage counseling to help us build a better marriage. I don't recommend bad marriage counseling. Get good counseling, but if it's not available to you . . . get what you can. 

 

Believable Love

Visits were marked by loud, emotive words expressing love and appreciation as she looked into my eyes. 

But the words just made me uncomfortable. I didn't believe them. They were counteracted by constant and pervasive criticism.

My waist size was too big, I argued with my brother too much, my posture was bad, I talked too loud, laughed too much, wore my hair the wrong way, didn't sing on key well enough, listened to the wrong music. The list could go on and on. I never measured up. 

The words of love faded in comparison to the criticism. 

As I found myself sending texts to my children declaring my love to them, I felt convicted. Do these words pale in comparison to my criticism? Do my kids feel the love I am declaring or do they roll their eyes in disbelief and discomfort?

As a mom, I've developed the habit of constantly scanning my environment for potential trouble. So I notice the problems with haste and precedence. Hairs out of place, disparity between how my children are dressed and how I think they should dress, rogue facial hairs, characteristics that I am afraid will be a stumbling block to relationships or acceptance by their peers, misspoken words with the potential to be misunderstood and lead to ostracization, habits that could be embarrassing. . . the list could go on and on.

I often characterize all of this as a mothers desire to see my children thrive, but honestly, some of it is my desire to be validated as a mom. I feel that how my children are perceived and accepted is a reflection of my own worth as a human being. 

This is something I'm working on. Letting my kids be who they are and detaching my self-worth from my children's successes and failures, or acceptance by society or people in our church family and community. I want to love them for who they are. I want my declarations of love to be believable because they are backed up by my actions and the larger context of our relationship. 

The End of the Dark Tunnel

 

Sunshine caresses my face, and seeps into my soul. 

After being lost in the dark wilderness, not knowing if I would ever find the way out, stepping into sunshine and civilization feels like the first sunny day after a winter of dark skies.

What began as a Dark Night of the Soul, turned into questioning my faith, myself and all the people in my life. It felt like being buried alive. Or lost at sea. 

I made a decision to stop deconstructing. To hold on. To be faithful. 

I made that decision over 2 years ago, but the Dark Night lasted until about a month ago. I spent over 5 years walking in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Feeling alone and lost and unsure of whether hope was realistic. I lost most of my support system. 

Healing came in waves, or stages. The last year felt like I was on the cusp of something, but never quite getting there. A million revelations promised to end the Dark Night, but never quite did. 

About a month ago, I felt compelled to read my Bible. Not as an act of defiance to the Darkness, but as a way to know God. I began to feel connected to God in prayer again. Things I felt confused by, are now clear. 

There are a million shifts and repentances that I could recite as the catalyst to this change, but I couldn't tell you which one did the trick. The truth is, I doubt any of them did. Maybe I just needed revolution in my heart. Maybe this is what had to happen to get me from where I started to where God wants to take me.

I don't know. What I know is that I feel incredibly grateful. And relieved. 

22

 

Think of the happiest, longest married couple you've ever known. 

What do you know about them? 

I've sat at funerals and anniversary parties while people recounted all of the challenges that the long married couple had been through. 

What I've come to understand is, it is likely that none of us knows about the biggest challenges those people faced in their relationship. The hardest things I've been through in my marriage, most of the people in my life don't even know about. And when I share pieces of my own story with women who've been married a comparable amount of time or longer, they've been there too. 

Happy, long marriages are not devoid of the problems that drive other people to divorce. People in happy, long marriages work it out. Each partner grows, and the relationship flourishes and deepens. 

Don't fall for the lie that social media and society are telling us right now. 

I just came across an Instagram post that said something like, "If you have to look through your partners phone, you're in the wrong relationship." Eh, not true. Maybe there is work to be done. Some rubber to lay down on the road. Because, if I'm looking through my partners phone, I will probably be looking in my next partners phone too. The grass isn't greener or more well manicured on the other side of the fence. I'm not in the wrong yard because the grass I'm in is brown and overgrown. The grass is green where I water it and tend it. 

It takes two to make a marriage really flourish, but just one partner working can do a lot. 

I'm not advocating for staying in abusive situations. I'm saying that the world is full of reasons why my relationship isn't the "right one", but if I'm waiting for the right relationship - there isn't one. I have to make the relationship right. 

Cultivating the Older Woman/Younger Woman Relationship: A First Step

They lament the state of current music.

It happens in every generation. Older people rag on current music and extol the virtues of the music from their day. People my age are doing it currently. This has been happening since the beginning of time ad nauseam. I think this is a manifestation of the cycle of dysfunction between generations, and we miss opportunities to connect and collaborate when we participate in it.

While older generations are scoffing at and belittling younger generations, the younger generation is dealing with the mistakes that have been handed down by the older generation. The people in the older generation endlessly talk about how things were better in their day, while the younger people are living through the fallout of the older generations' flaws creating a toxic environment of pride and dismissal. 

Each new generation sees the flaws and mistakes of the ones before it and thinks they need to take over so they can save the world from the ills of the older generation. We reject elders and their advice because we see it as flawed and irrelevant.

However, eventually, the new generation becomes the elders. The old, new generation worked hard to do things differently than their parents, and to make changes. But guess what?! The world is still flawed and the new, new generation sees those flaws, blames the previous generations, and vows to do things differently. They reject the old, new generation as their elders seeing them as flawed and irrelevant. They think they've figured it out and that they need to take over so they can save the world from the ills of our generation....and on and on and on. 

It is an endless cycle of pride, defensiveness, contempt, stonewalling, and a whole lot of not listening. And it is perpetuated by all sides.

One of our family's favorite things to do is create Spotify playlists for road trips. We give them fun names and everyone in our family contributes to them. We listen to every song and don't complain about someone else's choice. We practice listening simply because someone we love enjoys that song . . . so we give it a real chance to become a song we enjoy too. Even if it never makes it onto a list of my favorites, I get to spend a few minutes looking into the soul of one of my family members and it provides an opportunity to show them how much I value them. And you know what? I've heard some amazing music that is now on my favorites list.  

I've learned that music that doesn't sound the same as it did in "my day" can be good too. And not all the music from "my day" was good anyway. The stuff that stands the test of time is good, but you know what?! There is a whole lot of music that gets forgotten about. 

There are both virtues and vices in all generations. Younger generations stand on the shoulders of older generations, and a lot of good is done with the ideas and energy of younger generations. But we get caught in this cycle and stop listening to each other and working together.

In my view, a first step to empowering older woman/younger woman relationships is acknowledging this cycle and intentionally stepping out of it. 

A Study of Older Woman and Younger Woman Relationships Part One

I asked her, "do you still use what you taught us?" 

I saw them for the first time in years, and felt compelled to compare notes about how our lives had shifted and evolved since our last meeting.

They had kids starting about 10 years older than ours. We had looked up to them as parents and participated in a parenting study group with them. Michael and I attempted to implement the things we learned but were met with criticism and gave up fairly early on, cherry picking a few things that we thought were important.

Her reply to my question was "no". They had stopped using their previous parenting philosophy, and no longer recommended the curriculum they had used. 

As I approach the launching of my youngest children into adulthood, I've spent a lot of time facing down the mother I have been. The ways I have failed. 

Learning the term "overstimulation" and understanding that I have ADHD along with some other struggles, has reframed how I look at myself as a mother. I still have the same regrets, and I would go back and do a million things differently . . . but they help me to extend grace to myself. Because being overwhelmed by shame would be an easy thing to do, 

Over the years, as I have found myself lonely and overwhelmed, I have pondered the state of 'older woman' and 'younger woman' relationships. I have sought these relationships my entire adult life, with varying levels of success and helpfulness.  

At times when I wasn't getting the help I needed, I turned to blogs and other online content for help and encouragement. Most of these were created by women about my age with children the same age or younger. 

Other than what diapers to use or what to expect in the birthing process, I have regretted a lot of the advice I have taken from women whose children were the same age as mine. 

The couple I referenced in the beginning of this post had eventually completely rejected the advice and philosophy they had once held up as the gold standard. It had not yielded the result that they hoped it would. 

Women in the same stage of life as I am can give support, and may have sound advice, but in my experience they don't have the benefit of being able to see where the decisions they have made have led them in the long term. I can't see the result of their advice and philosophy.

Over the next few days and weeks, I would like to explore the older woman/younger woman relationship dynamics and the barriers that I have experienced to these relationships. And what I can do to promote these relationships and empower them flourish. 

Submission is a Dirty Word

I used to skip Judges 19 in my yearly Bible reading because it triggered me to question whether God loves women, and His goodness and existence.

Until I realized that everything recorded in scripture is not something God approves of. Then it occurred to me that God stands in stark contrast to the man in Judges 19 and all the other passages of scripture where men send (or offer) defenseless women to (sometimes mobs of) men. God didn’t send His wife or His daughter to face the mob. He came Himself. He sent somebody with power and a choice. The actions of men do not equal the actions or directive of God. 

I choose to submit to my husband. And to remain silent in The Church. 

I do this because scripture instructs it. Honestly, though, I have struggled with these things and the implications that I believed they had about what God thinks of me as a woman. Stick with me while I explain how I’ve come to have peace with this. 

Here’s where people start talking about “the patriarchy” and misogyny. Those things exist, but God didn’t invent them. And I don’t think that my submission to my husband and silence in The Church necessarily creates those. 

The world is a fallen place. Do men take advantage of their wives' submission or silence in the church? Yes, sometimes. Maybe a lot of times. 

The truth is, I shouldn’t confuse the thoughts, opinions, and actions of men with the thoughts and ways of God. And I can’t waste my life obsessing over other people’s flaws or rejecting the commands of God because someone else isn’t holding their end of the bargain. 

I believe that my role as a wife is a picture of how the church functions as the bride of Christ. Of course, the church should submit to Christ. The thought of The Church singing “I can buy myself flowers” . . . is ridiculous. 

Submission today looks differently than it did in Bible times, simply because culture has changed. Michael would laugh me to scorn if I called him lord. Or maybe not, but that would be weird. Submission isn’t defined by culture today or 50 or 100 years ago, and it isn't defined by Fox News. The implementation of it is impacted by culture, but God defines submission. Submission isn't not voting or having a bank account or being a housewife. Those are cultural things that have changed. 

Ballroom dancing is a lovely demonstration of submission. My husband leads, I follow, and we artfully perform the steps together. I don’t resist his moves or intentionally perform a different step from him, and he leads with compassion. We both show up ready to dance our hearts out, and that’s the only way it works. If both people lead, it doesn’t work. Most people can understand submission in this context. Submission in marriage is the same thing. I allow my husband to be the leader. 

I share my opinions, and he listens. We work together. But I submit to his direction. Not because I am somehow less than him, but so the picture can be complete. 

The church should always be in submission to Christ. When Christ speaks, the church should always be silent. And that is the example that I seek to emulate and demonstrate.

I don’t think God thinks that women don’t have good things to say or wise words to share. He brings His Kingdom to us in a way that we can understand. I believe that women submit because marriage is a picture of the relationship between Christ and the church. 

God came to face the mob (that, ironically, I am a part of), and I am willing to submit to the picture that He is painting. Even if that means I don’t get to be the leader and I don’t speak in the Church. I am okay with that. 

A Guide to Changing Perspectives

Instinctively, I corrected.

It felt important to speak the truth. To offer a different perspective. To encourage them to look at the bright side.

Instead, it frequently lead to them leaning into the distortion or negativity, and started an argument. 

One of my kids had the courage to tell me how it feels when I respond with a correction immediately when they tell me a story. 

In thinking through this, why I respond the way I do and how I can do it differently I learned something. 

There is something powerful about other people seeing my pain. It helps me to move on from it. 

When I share something difficult I am dealing with and people respond with, "well at least . . . " or a story about why what I'm going through isn't that big of a deal, I feel unseen and uncared for. I feel like I need to reassure myself that my perception of reality is true. This prolongs my stance in the pain I am, it is a stumbling block.

I've learned that acknowledging hardship and allowing people to feel what they feel for a bit, actually empowers them to find the truth, a different perspective or to look at the bright side themselves. 

There is absolutely a time to call out untruth, offer a different perspective or to encourage someone to look at the bright side. But maybe when we sit with people in their pain, we are fertilizing the ground where the truth, new perspective or the bright side can take root and flourish. 

How To Be a Perfect Parent

 I told myself that I would do things differently.

The truth is, I did. Poorly at first, but then I learned better, got help and did better. 

But what I’ve learned is this: 

I can do the best I can as a parent, but it will never be good enough that my kids won’t have problems. 

I could never say a negative word about my body or anybody else's and my daughter still might have body image issues. I can be a gentle parent and my kids might still struggle with pleasing people and perfectionism. 

There are no perfect parents, and there are no perfect kids. There are no perfect relationships. There is conflict in all relationships, and there are flaws in all people. 

Regardless of my performance as a parent, my kids will still be sinners who need a Savior. And I am not that Savior. 

What I’ve learned about parenting, and relationships in general, is that the quality of the relationship is dependent on the quality of the repair that takes place when something goes wrong. 

How do I make amends when I make a mistake? How do I react when I realize I’m doing something wrong or I’ve hurt my kids in some way? What do I do when I feel negatively toward my husband? When I feel bitterness creep in? Do I blame other people, or take responsibility for my part? Do I share how I feel and what I need or do I wait for them to read my mind? 

Show them how to make amends with God, themselves and other people. It's like teaching a hungry man to fish . . . they will be fed for life.