God's Gentleness

When I was growing up, the only gentleness I received was from my Mom.  But then my Dad's alcoholism stole her from me.  I was abandoned emotionally and left to fight on my own.

It wasn't until I attended vacation bible school a couple of times and Sunday school off and on that I learned about God's love. Even though I was being taught "God loves you," I knew different.  God never visited my house.

My house was filled with yelling, violence, loneliness, abuse, neglect and constant fear.  God was nowhere to be found.  Besides, I wasn't the type of kid God loved.  He loved good little girls who weren't stained with physical and sexual abuse, bruises and blood, tears and torment.  I was a tomboy, tough on the outside, tougher on the inside.

And yet there was a yearning inside that wanted to believe God loved me like they said He did.  I longed to be loved.  I longed to be protected from the abuse.  Instead the hurt and sadness I felt turned into rage and I became the protector for my mom and sisters.

I developed a survivor mentality.  I put my body in between my dad and a family member.  I inserted myself in arguments so that I'd get the abuse and not my family.  I developed such a tough exterior I could handle it.  If I sensed him to be in a violent mood, I'd pick a fight to get it over with so no one else would get hurt by him.

I love my family.  I'd do anything to keep them safe.  Anything.

When I started going to Alateen, I learned about God.  I learned He was here to help me.  He wanted to be an active part of my life.  Not a by stander.

They said God loved me just as I was.  I didn't have to perform for Him.  I didn't have to be perfect.  He loved me, warts and all.  I didn't have to pretend I was something I wasn't.

When I became a Christian, I learned God's love was a gift I did not have to earn.  It was freely given through Jesus' sacrifice on the cross.  No one or nothing could ever take it away.

They said God's love is gentle and kind.  It is not dependent on anything I do.  His love will take my hand and lead me down the path He wants me to go.  He will never lead me astray.

I've learned God's gentleness is good, everlasting, never fails, thoughtful, loving, eternal, never changes, encouraging, safe, satisfies.

Isn't it great to have a God who loves us so completely?

Why Does It Take Some Longer to Recover?

That's my latest question in the journey of recovery.

Why?  Because today is the six year anniversary of one of my abuser's death.  Six years of not having to deal with dysfunctional birthdays, holidays and father's days.  Six years of not having to wonder whether or not I matter to him.  Six years of seeing the man, then not drinking, saying he's a good guy, never admitting any wrong doing.

Three years before his death he never spoke to me.  To this day I don't know why.  He was diagnosed with colon cancer.  Then he went blind.  I called to let him know if he needed anything to call me.  Nothing.  The last time I saw him was at my nieces birthday party and even then he never looked at me.  To him, even at that time, I no longer existed.

No more birthday cards, no more Christmas cards.
We lived a half mile from each other.
It's as if I had never been born.

A few months before his death, my sister was planning her wedding.  I was working and going to counseling with Carol at Meier Clinics in Wheaton.  When my sister asked how I was feeling about my dad being at the wedding, I immediately tensed up.  I told her I didn't want to be the reason she wouldn't invite him.  She said she already had issues of her own and she would rather have me there and feel safe.  My other sister agreed.

How wonderful it felt to have my sisters support me especially because it was very awkward to ask for what I needed.  Can you imagine asking the bride not to invite her father?  My sisters knew what he'd done to me.  The secret was out.

Because the decision was not an easy one for any of us, we jokingly said, "You know what would be nice?  If Dad died so we didn't have to deal with this."  And that's exactly what happened!

My sister never had to tell him not to come, I never had to feel the reality of how his abuse effected my family until later and my Mom didn't have to look at the man who abused her daughter.

We were living lives in recovery as best we could.
He chose to stay behind and live in the disease.

That's why it takes some people longer to recover.

Plans for a Future

I was asked, "Why do you shut down?"
There are several reasons:

• I'm scared of the feelings I'm having.
• I feel overwhelmed and want to drink.
• I don't feel safe "out here."
• It quiets my head.
• I don't have to talk to anyone.
• It pushes people away.
• I can hide in plain sight.
• I can pretend I'm okay.
• It doesn't hurt anyone.
• So I can function.

I know these are not healthy reasons.  All of them have served me well at some time in my life.  I used this method of coping today.

Shutting down is another form of isolation.  It takes me away from the world and puts me into a cocoon.  The problem is that I don't emerge as a butterfly.  I emerge as the same caterpillar.

God wants more for me than to stay the same.  He wants me to trust Him on this journey.  He has placed safe people around me who can help me transform into a butterfly.

One of those people is my therapist.  She told me God has wonderful plans for me.  Plans to prosper me and to give me hope.  

She was reminding me of Jeremiah 29:11.

There are days I want to stay a caterpillar.  Today is one of those days.  The thought of being transformed, even though it's a desire I said out loud, still scares me.

What if I fail?

What if I don't do it right?

What if I get finished and I don't like who I've become?

OR

What if I succeed?

What if I do it right?

What if I get finished and I really like who I've become?

Given the choice, I pick the latter one.

Don't Worry

When the things of this world are too hard to figure out, I try to remember I am no longer of this world.  That's because I gave my life to Jesus and when I did that, He brought me into His world.  Not literally but metaphorically.

The worries I carry I no longer carry alone.
I can give them to God and He'll take them from me.
I don't have to be weighed down.



The burdens I shoulder can be set down.
They are shared with my Heavenly Father.
He is strong and able.

All the fear and uncertainty dwelling within,
Can be surrendered to Jesus.
He's walked that road and come out the other side.

I don't know for sure if these feelings originate from Satan or from human existence.  I know once sin entered the world, these emotions did, too.  In either case, God was there when they came to be and He knows how to help me.

Seeking God during these times is difficult.  I am a "do it on my own" kind of person.  I've relied on myself for so many years.  Truthfully, I've been transitioning to relying on God more and more in the last eight years.  I'm very thankful it's getting easier to do.

I'm learning God is a God of transformation.  He is not content with me staying the same.  He wants more for me.  His desire to make me into the image of Christ is an act of love like no other I've ever experienced.

I thank you, Lord, for loving me with an everlasting love.

God Never Gives Up

My Mom wrote this to me:

"I admire your desire and persistence to be healthy - both in mind and in body.  I share that with you but we must both follow the healing path God has put us on individually.

I read Psalm 143 this morning and found it spoke to how I feel and behave.

This is indeed a battle that only the Lord can win when we are willing to give Him our whole messy life."


After reading the Psalm myself, I found it resonated with my broken relationship with food, my feelings about being in Satan's snare, God's provision and protection thus far and the unrelenting nagging inside my mind and body to put this issue to rest.

Here's Psalm 143 from the New Living Translation:

1 Hear my prayer, O Lord;
    listen to my plea!
    Answer me because you are faithful and righteous.
2 Don’t put your servant on trial,
    for no one is innocent before you.
3 My enemy has chased me.
    He has knocked me to the ground
    and forces me to live in darkness like those in the grave.
4 I am losing all hope;
    I am paralyzed with fear.
5 I remember the days of old.
    I ponder all your great works
    and think about what you have done.
6 I lift my hands to you in prayer.
    I thirst for you as parched land thirsts for rain. 

7 Come quickly, Lord, and answer me,
    for my depression deepens.
Don’t turn away from me,
    or I will die.
8 Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning,
    for I am trusting you.
Show me where to walk,
    for I give myself to you.
9 Rescue me from my enemies, Lord;
    I run to you to hide me.
10 Teach me to do your will,
    for you are my God.
May your gracious Spirit lead me forward
    on a firm footing.
11 For the glory of your name, O Lord, preserve my life.
    Because of your faithfulness, bring me out of this distress.
12 In your unfailing love, silence all my enemies
    and destroy all my foes,
    for I am your servant.

This Psalm says a lot of what I think and wish to express to God.  It also says stuff I need to remind myself of.  

I'm glad my Mom sent it to me.  It's no mistake it was sent to me at this time in my recovery.  It's no coincidence.

God is planting another seed.

Getting Right With God

Sometimes I'm distracted when things don't go according to planned.  I try not to fixate on when or how stuff will get done but realistically, planning does need to happen.  In fact, in some instances, if planning were not carried out it would be detrimental to my quality of life.

Things I plan for include appointments related to my health and my body, my vehicle, my home and my pets.  I can plan loosely for times with my family, friends, recreation and shopping.  Then I leave room for spontaneity.


But what about my time with God?
Does that need to be scheduled?
Planned?
Spontaneous?

I've been a follower of Jesus Christ for 26 years.  I've tried all sorts of disciplines, all sorts of ways, all sorts of methods.  You know what I've found?

I feel closest to God when I'm in a planned routine.

For the last couple of years I've been struggling, trying to get back into that routine.  I'm slowly making progress but I have to be honest.  The effort takes a lot of energy and there are days I don't have much.

I've had the privilege and blessing of sitting under the same pastor for over two decades.  My pastor drills into our heads that a committed Christian spends at least 15 minutes a day reading God's word.  In my head I say, "Wow.  That's not much at all."

Other days when I sit down to read my head says, "Nope.  Can't focus for that long."

Instead of dwelling on what I don't have, I'm learning to let that go and let it be okay.  My perfectionism and high achiever traits don't serve me well on these days.  I literally have to give myself permission to just breathe through it and remind myself that the only person judging me, is me.  God is doing no such thing.

I have a couple of solutions that could work very well.  One is to use an Internet based Bible program that reads the Bible to you.  The other is to read what I can, say one sentence, and keep my mind focused on that one alone.  The point is to keep walking as best I can.

Getting right with God has more to do with my personal discipline than it does being disciplined by God.  I know God wants to be close to me, talk to me, encourage me and teach me.  One of the main ways He does this is through His Word.  God's main concern for me is that I continue to be conformed into the image of Christ.  Not by a smack upside the head or a belt to the body.

As His daughter, I want to live as a sponge soaking up His Word.

As my Abba Father, He'll love me and cherish me and coddle me,

All the way Home to His glorious Kingdom of Eternal Safety.

Mom's Valentine Letters

My parents divorced shortly after I turned fifteen.  It was something I'd been advocating my Mom to do for at least a few years.  When the time was right for her, she filed.

My Mom is my hero.  She worked very hard, in all areas of her life, to keep us together.  She was blessed with a good paying job and an employer who gave her the emotional support she needed to be able to take care of herself so she could take care of us.


My Dad, even though he lived just two blocks away, wasn't much help.  He was caught up in his disease and we didn't want to be around it.  There were too many fights and too much stress.  It wasn't worth it and up until the time of his death, the difficulty remained.

Not long after they divorced, my Mom started writing Valentine letters to each of her daughters.  The letters were changes our Mom saw us go through during the past year. Positive changes she wanted to remind us of - positive changes she wanted us to know mattered.

In my letters she talks a lot about my kindness toward my sisters, my family, my friends. She notes how much people trust me.  She reminds me of our times together, how she feels I really listen to her and how much we laugh.

And then my Mom sprinkles in some wisdom about God.  It's not something off the cuff but from her own experience.  This year she wrote this:

"This Valentine's Day I want to share with you something that my counselor Sara told me long ago - "God loves you.  You don't have to do anything.  If you could only sit in a chair you would be valuable.""

I'm a performance based person.  If I'm not performing at an A+ level, I'm a failure.  No matter how much pain this causes, I don't change it.

Why?  I'm not sure.  For some reason, holding myself to a high standard has always been what I've done.  It's probably the only thing I had control over and no one could take it away from me.

I know one day these Valentine Letters will stop.  I'm thankful every year to add another one to my folder.  When my Mom passes away and goes up to Heaven, I know I will see her again.

How do I know this?

Because Jesus is her one and only Valentine.