Breaking Free from Family Patterns

One of the most heartbreaking memories I have of my mother occurred not when I was a child (although believe me, there were an abundance of those as well), but when I was well over thirty and reaching out to her in an effort to repair our very broken relationship.

I had been in therapy for over a year and a half, working through the pain of my sexual and physical abuse at the hands of her husband. My mom knew I was in therapy, but refused to speak to me about my past and patently refused to acknowledge the trauma I had experienced. She chose to shove her head in the sand and stonewall conversation by saying, "I don't remember, I didn't know, I did the best I could." These responses were unsatisfying to me. Without acknowledgement of wrongdoing and forgiveness, I knew that our relationship would be forever doomed to surface platitudes and deep-seated pain. I wanted so desperately to heal our relationship, to move past the hurt I felt toward her, that I approached my mother and asked her if she would join me at a counseling session since she was going to be in town anyway. I was overjoyed when she agreed.

I am sure you can figure out what happened next. She arrived at the therapist's office with an attitude. She was defensive and combative. She wouldn't listen to me, she interrupted me, she told the therapist to "shut up" and stormed out. My mom had walked away from me---again. It was over in less than 15 minutes. I was devastated. In that moment, I knew that I would never have the relationship with my mother that I wanted and that my dreams to be one of those women whose mom was their best friend was just that-a dream.

Fast forward ten years.

My daughter and I had hit a crossroads. We desperately loved each other, but could not communicate. Hurt feelings, misunderstandings, painful words and bucket loads of regrets had strained our relationship. During one of our last "skirmishes", after a complete rehashing of everything we had already said to each other a multitude of times, my daughter in her infinite wisdom said, "Mom. We need to go to counseling. We need help." I, in my pride and foolishness said, "No. YOU need counseling." and ended our conversation.

As a child of God, I am so blessed to know that regardless of my past or what has happened, God has enabled me to be different. To break the family mold, to move beyond my past. So many times I have seen person after person fall into the habits and mistakes of their parents and take the well-trod path of least resistance. Change is hard. Changing from family patterns is even harder--but not for my God. As I was standing in the shower, crying my eyes out over my broken relationship with my daughter, God brought to me a memory: My mom walking out that therapist's door and slamming it. I was immediately flooded with grief and shame. Grief over the loss of a relationship with my mother and shame that I had almost done the same to my child. I begged God to forgive me. I begged Him to help me be different. Mostly though, I begged God to help Rhianna forgive me of my stubborn heart.

Later, I texted my girl. I told her to book the appointment. I would do whatever it takes to save our relationship. I felt freed. I felt new.

And that, my friends is how God breaks someone free from a dysfunctional family pattern.

The Mother of All Sacrifices

When I reflect on Mary, the mother of Jesus, I think that I am not unique in that I tend to keep her presence relegated to the Christmas Story. Mary's act of faith, even as a teenage girl confounds me. Her song of praise upon discovering she will become pregnant with the Child of God moves me to tears---oh such a precious and pure faith!

“My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for He has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me— holy is His name. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation.

Luke 1:46-50

So imagine my shock when I discovered this set of verses as I was cruising through the book of Mark the other day:

Then Jesus entered a house, and again a crowd gathered, so that He and his disciples were not even able to eat. When His family heard about this, they went to take charge of Him, for they said, “He is out of His mind.”

Later on, this happens:

Then Jesus’ mother and brothers arrived. Standing outside, they sent someone in to call Him. A crowd was sitting around Him, and they told Him, “Your mother and brothers are outside looking for you.”

“Who are my mother and my brothers?” He asked.

Mark 3:20, 31-32

Would you join me for a moment in a little game I like to call, "WHAT THE WHAT??!!"

WHAT in the world was going on with Jesus' family?

WHAT in Pete's peppers was Mary doing with this band of family doubters and scoffers?

WHAT in the heck happened with Mary between "My soul magnifies the Lord" and "He's out of His mind!"?

Believe me when I say that these verses blew my mind. I was seriously bummed out with Mary! The younger version of the calm, cool and collected virgin who faced the Angel Gabriel without fear had been replaced by a middle-aged woman caught up in a miniseries melodrama starring her eldest son and featuring her other children as the bad guys. I couldn't help but wonder, what had changed in Mary?

When my daughter Rhianna was in Junior High, she desperately wanted to try out for the volleyball team. Her friends were all trying out and she wanted to be on the team too. I encouraged her to go for it and assured her that she had what it took to be a great player. Well, she went to the weeklong try outs and did her best, but ultimately wasn't chosen. It was a very sad day for her. She cried, she felt rejected and was seriously upset that she was the only one not chosen out of her group of friends. It was a tough time to be a kid and the mom of that kid!

Fast forward one year. It is once again time for volleyball tryouts and Rhianna wanted to try out again. This time however, I was struggling with letting her. I did not want my daughter to be disappointed and hurt. I didn't want her to feel that crushing blow of rejection and doubt herself. Of course, I outwardly supported her, but when fear would strike me, I would ask, "Are you SURE that volleyball is your thing?" or "Do you think you will be able to keep up on your schoolwork if you are playing volleyball?" Rhianna assured me that volleyball was truly what she wanted and tried out again. Again, she wasn't chosen. I will never forget the sadness on her face when I arrived to pick her up. I was so angry and frustrated! I couldn't help but wonder why God would allow my precious child to suffer such sadness and pain.

Regardless of Jesus' status as "The Son of God", he was also the Son of Mary. As a parent, I have, and always will, hate to see my child suffer and would do just about anything to keep it from happening. Why do I think that Mary would be any different than I am? With this thought in mind, I looked at Mary's presence at the house that day a little differently. Yes, Mary was there to get her son, but I now have no doubt that her presence was not out of embarrassment or condemnation, but born out of the love of a desperate mother's heart. Mary had heard the prophecies---she had been pondering them in her heart for years (Luke 2:19) and knew what was coming down the dusty roads of Israel for her Son. Perhaps she thought that if she could fetch Jesus and bring Him back home, that all that had been foretold would be null and void. It is so evident that God's plans for Jesus were much bigger and far-reaching than Mary's were and I praise God that Jesus had the presence of mind to not listen to His mother although I have little doubt that this was probably the one and only time He ever disobeyed her.

God's plans for our kids are clearly not our plans. We don't want to see our children hurt and in pain. We want rainbows and balloons for our children, not storm-clouds and umbrellas. But I am learning to recognize that every time I interfere in a lesson God has hand prepared for one of my children, I am robbing them of the opportunity to grow and to see just how big God really is. Instead of trying to block the pain, I need to teach my children to pour out their pain to God, just like Jesus did in the garden of Gethsemane. My children may have to die a million metaphorical deaths before they see their spiritual resurrection, but, as their mom, I am going to be in my prayer closet interceding for them rather than standing outside the house interfering in God's plan.

Living Through a Lesson That Isn't Mine to Learn

The phone call left me crestfallen. He didn't get the job---again. Confusion, sadness, frustration, anger and fear overwhelmed me with in an instantaneous torrent of emotion. How could this be? It seemed so promising! It seemed so---right. It just didn't make sense!

As I sat at my desk, helpless to do anything to comfort my sweetie, I struggled to even find the words to reach out to God. Pain had blunted my ability to articulate my feelings to the Lord and I could do nothing but shut my office door, lay my head on my desk and cry. With the tears, the words "Why God?" flowed from my heart. "Why are you doing this to me? To Rene'? What have I done wrong? I prayed, I sought You and yet, I am suffering and Rene' is suffering. WHY!!??"

As I struggled through the rest of my work day, I pondered my feelings and replayed my failures. Maybe if I had gone to Bible study last night, Rene' would have gotten the job. Maybe if were a better, more faithful Christian, Rene' would have gotten the job. Maybe, if I had not been backslidden last Fall, Rene' would have gotten the job. Maybe if I were more faithful in my church attendance, Rene' would have gotten the job. I should have prayed harder, I should have fasted, I should have, I should have, I didn't, I didn't. It's ALL MY FAULT!

Needless to say, it was not an easy weekend for my family. Rene' was upset and frustrated. I was sad and hurt. Rene' withdrew, I reacted. In an effort to quiet both the internal and external chaos, I popped in my headphones, tuned out the world and finally tuned into God. I cried to Him, begging Him to open my eyes, to understand what I needed to do. I quieted my spirit and God spoke.

I read the story of David's shattered relationship with his son, Absalom. This breach in love and trust between father and son came not from David being overbearing or even cruel to his son, it came about because of David's ineffectiveness as a father. When David's other son Amnon raped and humiliated Tamar, Absalom's sister and Amnon's half-sister, the Bible says David was "furious". That's it. He was furious. It doesn't say he was furious and held Amnon accountable. It just says he was furious. (II Samuel 13:21) As I read this passage, I kept waiting for David to do something....but he never did. How disappointing. The man who stood up to giants, conquered nations and who begged to be delivered from deceitful and unjust men (Psalm 43) had himself become deceitful and unjust. Absalom waited for his father to avenge Tamar's disgrace for two years before taking matters into his own hands and murdering Amnon. If you know your Bible, you know that this story ends very badly. Absalom is exiled, returns, plots his father's demise, David abandons his throne, battles ensue, Absalom is defeated, David mourns.

I tell you this story because I want you to understand my thought while reading this. I couldn't help but wonder what David's wife or better, wives were thinking as they watched all this unfold. Did they blame themselves for the wilderness David's disobedience had brought them to? Did they hold themselves responsible for the fact that God was using hardship in their husband's life to strengthen him and grow him? Did they question their walk with God because their husband was going through a trial and they were collateral damage?

Life lesson for Jessica: Because we are one, what Rene' is experiencing, I am going to experience as well. Maybe what we are going through isn't my lesson to learn, it's for Rene's sake. Perhaps God is using this time of unemployment and financial stress to strengthen Rene's faith in God, to grow him closer to the Lord, to teach Rene' to trust and rely on God in every way. Why am I so quick to blame myself when things go wrong? Honestly, because by blaming myself, I am giving myself the illusion that I can control this situation. If I am to blame, then can't I change the circumstances that brought this hardship about? How foolish it is to believe that if I can change the circumstances, the suffering will end! I should know by now that the suffering stays until the lesson is learned.

Honestly, I don't know why we are going through what we are. I don't know if it's for me, Rene' or, more than likely, for both of us, but I do know that God is going to use it. I do know that this time has challenged my concept of what a supportive wife looks like and what a Godly woman does in times of trial. This time has fundamentally changed how I pray as well. Gone are the prayers of "Please God, give Rene' a job" and "Why are You doing this to me?" Through this painful time of reflection (which, by the way is far more productive than recrimination) I have learned yet another life lesson---it really isn't "all about me."

God Showed Up

I have never had much success with New Year's resolutions. Talk about setting myself up for failure! I, like many, want to grow spiritually, lose weight, be more healthy, exercise and avoid corn dogs---but I have never made it more than a few days, at most, two weeks. Maybe it's just too much pressure to put on a New Year. All the failures and "shoulda, coulda, woulda's" of last year, brought into the New Year and held up as the warning sign for how to seriously screw up a year and leave it behind with regret.

Honestly, 2011 was a really challenging year. Financial troubles, unemployment and family problems made the last part of the year especially difficult. Stress and pressure on me as the "bread winner" has given me many sleepless nights and emptied more than one package of Chips Ahoy. I leave 2011 behind with a not fond adieu!

Rene' and I were talking on New Year's Eve and I made the offhanded comment that 2011 sucked. He stopped what he was doing and stared at me. I asked him what was the matter and he said, "2011 didn't suck! Look what God did for us! He provided for us in so many ways, answering our prayers and keeping us afloat." Well, friends, I was pretty ashamed. My hubby is right. They year 2011 will be the year for me that GOD SHOWED UP.

God is always present. I have been a Christian for so long, that I often take His presence and His guidance for granted. In these very difficult times however, the faith that God is always there is easily obscured with worry, doubt and fear. When there is worry, prayer is ineffective. When there is fear, prayers are riddled with fear. When there is doubt, the blessings aren't seen. It was in this moment of my greatest doubts and sadness when God's love broke through.

We received money from unexpected sources to buy our children Christmas gifts. We were given gift cards to grocery stores that provided food for our family. Somehow, even amidst the struggle, the rent was paid, there was heat in our home and food for our baby kitties. The amazing thing? I didn't even ask for any of these things. My prayers were either sporadic or peppered with doubt, fear and self-pity. Yet, God showed up anyway. His love overcame my worry and fear and blessed our family abundantly.

This year, I intend to make a New Year's resolution that for me, should be easy after seeing God's nature even in the midst of my unbelief in the year 2011. This year, I am going to stop looking down at my circumstances and start looking up at Jesus. He is greater than my circumstances, stronger than my doubts and present in my loneliness. God never RSVPs to my pity party, but He always shows up and is never late.

My Murky Future

When I was in high school, my family went swimming for the afternoon at a really huge pond. We were all in the water swimming and splashing around, just having a fabulous time, when I got this really creepy feeling. I cannot describe it, but I just felt like something was wrong. As I bobbed around in the water, I started feeling as though something was touching my legs. I paddled around a little looking for an explanation for the bumps and touches I would intermittently feel. Realizing I was alone in the area sent me swimming to the shore in a panic! When I got onto the beach, I told my older brother Micky about the touches and he said it was probably fish bumping into my legs. Nothing to worry about. I immediately felt better and the cloud was lifted.

That night, we were watching the 11 o'clock news when a story about a missing man came on. He had been located, earlier in the evening....in the pond where I had been swimming. Police divers had pulled his body from the area in the pond where I was. He had been there for quite a while. Needless to say, I freaked out. What if that dead guy had been touching my legs? What if it was his phantom fingers reaching out from the murky depths of the pond and brushing my feet? I had nightmares for a long time and in all honesty, I have never recovered from it.

Since that day more than 20 years ago, I have not gone swimming in anything other than a pool. No lie. At a lake, I will wade out a little ways, take a lawn chair and plop my tooshie down and do some power reading whilst dipping my toes in the cool water. But I won't venture out any farther than that; I know far too much about what possibly lies beneath my ability to see. I know what you are thinking; and I agree. The possibility that my feet will somehow locate another dead dude is remote at best, but when I get out in the water and it does not permit me to see what is in it, I freeze and cannot go any farther.

To me, my future is like a lake that I gaze into and cannot see what is below the surface. I fear the future in much the same way I fear any non-chlorinated body of water and for the same reason: I cannot see what lies in it. I may not seem like it, but I am actually a very plan-full person. I like knowing what is coming down the pike. I like planning ahead, knowing what's up and being able to anticipate what I will need or need to do. I do like lists, order and schedules even if I am not all that rigid about making sure the list gets done, or the schedule is followed. It's just nice to know it's there percolating in my brain.

This is why the future is so hard for me...God has given me nothing to percolate on! I am certain of nothing except that nothing is certain. I can't see what God's plans are for me and He did that on purpose. Where is my faith to follow Him if I can see where He is leading?

Confession time: Beneath this laid-back exterior lies the heart (and the stomach aches) of a dyed-in-the-wool worrywart. I don't share it, I don't talk about it and I don't like to think about it, but the worry is there. I feel it in my stomach. I find it in the night when I cannot sleep. It distracts me from my present and robs me of my future. I spend so much time on the worry that I forget to trust.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on Me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek Me with all your heart. I will be found by you, " declares the LORD....Jeremiah 29:11-14a

This is a classic verse, quoted so much it's almost a cliche...but it's truth rings forth so strongly to me. The question is, DO I TRUST GOD FOR MY FUTURE?

Here's the comfort in all this blah blah blah I am sharing. I can't see the future. It is a black, murky, bloggy mess to me, but not to God! HE sees the future. HE has a plan for my life. HE is the boss of me and knows what is going to happen. He doesn't promise my future will turn out the way I want, but He does promise to give me a hope and future that will not cause me harm and will only prosper me. This gives me reason to rejoice, reason to keep going and reason to once again, thank God that I am His child. With this hope, and this reassurance of God's faithfulness, I am going to endeavor to look upon the future with anticipation and not fear. I want to enjoy every second of my life and not regret the moments lost by worrying about things I cannot change. Once again I find myself saying, "Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!" II Corinthians 9:15


P.S. I am almost 100% positive that my future will be dead-guy-in-the-pond free!

Grass Houses and Mud Pies

When I was a little girl, we lived in a house that had a huge grass field in the pasture. I would go out there and plow through the tall grass and disappear. I would lay down in there and be invisible...no one could find me. I liked being invisible. I lived in a house of chaos and neglect. If I was invisible, no one could yell at me, hit me or hurt me. I could lay on my back in the grass and listen to the whisper of silence in the blades.

As an adult, I have come to equate the feeling of insignificance to the feeling of being invisible. I don't want to be invisible. I don't like it. I want to be noticed. I want to shake the world! I want to be the one at work to change a life, to save a family, to have an insight that changes the mind of someone who is lost. I want to make a difference. I want to be.....SIGNIFICANT!

Interestingly enough, God has allowed none of those things to happen to me. I sit in my beige cube day after day like a meatloaf, plow through tons of paperwork and then leave. I feel like the biggest fakity-faker in the world. I feel like a little girl trying to wear mommas shoes when I sit in meetings and trainings. In my mind, I don't make a difference.

The other day, I was doing my bible study and a stumbled across this quote by C.S. Lewis:

"We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because she cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."

Oh boy.

Why am I so willing to settle for less in my life? Why oh why do I willingly turn away from the staggering blessings that God offers me as His child in order to try and achieve something to glorify myself? God has given me all I need to have a great life...correction, an abundant life, yet I cling desperately to my mud pies! I feel insignificant because I don't see Him in my every day life. I have been a Christian for 24 years and yet, I still flounder around in my need to matter to everyone else and ignore the rest and peace that comes from trading my ambitions for my life for His will and ways.

Truth is, I always have and probably always will struggle with my self-esteem. The feeling of being "less than" is an old friend of mine. I know that God is working in me because I am recognizing this weakness and I am confessing it. I no longer want to be so easily satisfied with what I am able to conjure up on my own as a successful life. I want life...and I want it more abundantly.

Confessions of a Fat Girl

Have you ever just felt trapped in your own skin? As if you didn't change you were going to explode? I have felt like that the past couple of days. I don't know if it's the sun or the spring or the fact that I have sassy new hair, but sometimes I just feel so.........trapped. I want a new job, a new life, a new body a new start, a new town a new cat....a new EVERYTHING!

Yesterday (after trying on the 18th shirt that didn't fit at Ross) I realized something: I feel trapped inside of ME! It's not my job or my life or my car--- it's me that I want to escape from. I admit that I don't like myself very much. I am constantly inundated with negative self-talk, self-hatred and loathing. I have never been able to look in the mirror and tell myself, "You are beautiful." I had some ladies tell me at a meeting this morning to do positive affirmations and I couldn't help wonder why I would lie to myself like that? I have never liked myself, never felt beautiful and always felt like the fattest wench in the world.

I am not trying to be a bummer; I am just trying to be authentic, real. I have struggled with insecurity my whole life. As a Christian I feel double shame at times because I don't ever want God to believe that I am not thankful for whom He made me to be. I just don't understand why I couldn't be who I am supposed to be only lighter? I get so irritated with all these skinny, skinny people who are "dieting". I just want to shake them! If they think they need to lose weight, what must they think of me? It's not as though I lose sleep over worry of what others think, I just wonder if they aren't comfortable in their own skin, is it any wonder I am uncomfortable in mine?

I hear all the time, "If you don't want to be fat, lose weight." Ah, if only it were that easy. I wish that people could understand that food is as much an addiction as methamphetamines, alcohol or marijuana. Food is my crack. I cannot escape it...it follows me where ever I go. I have been heavy my whole life. I have used food for comfort, company and consolation. I have turned again and again to my drug of choice when my life is happy, sad, angry or boring. I have developed a life-long habit with food and as I stare down the barrel of my last year in my 30s, I am worried. I feel scared. Why scared? Because it is a known fact that losing weight after 40 is infinitely harder than in your 30s. Lucky me.

I don't know what to do. I am in a hate-hate relationship with myself. Rene' and I have decided to join the YMCA, but with my track history I don't even know if I have the staying power. I know this is a depressing blog, but I am just expressing what is going on in my head. It's not always fun and games boys and girls...sometimes it’s just....me.