You really learn a thing or two about compassion for others when life has kicked you around a bit. You know how it feels and you recognize the "look" in others and it makes you want to reach out to them. It doesn't matter whether your stories are different. All that matters is that common thread of pain.
But, I'd like to go a step deeper. As a follower of Jesus it's not only that as He has comforted me, I can comfort others. It is how He has given me chance after chance, do-over after do-over; and grace, mercy, and forgiveness day after day. And, I haven't deserved it. I didn't earn it with anything special. He just sees in me what I'll never completely comprehend. I turn to Him and I'm at a place in my life where I EXPERIENCE these things from Him - these mighty acts of gracious love - UNCONDITIONALLY. How can I bend before my God in remorse, in the asking AGAIN, in the small where He is big, and experience His forgiveness, His seeing and knowing, His loving and caring, and NOT have love for my fellow man? And, not have compassion on him? And not give more chances? More patience? More understanding?
Recently, I read a newspaper article about a Chicago suburb that was going to begin making Narcan (a special drug to allow for the quick treatment of a drug overdose before paramedics arrive) available not only for their police department, but also available for social service agencies and other public areas such as the library. The article was written sensitively and talked about how their town is trying to educate its residents and that more compassion needs to be given for those with drug addiction. I admit that I was thrown off a little bit. More compassion for drug addicts? Outside of my workplace which treats addiction, I've found compassion for this specific issue lacking. I have seen a fair amount of disdain, intolerance, judgment and ignorance. A lets-kick-you-when-you're-down type of thing. Smugness. I cringe to think about my own smugness and criticism. Just when I think the poisonous weeds have been pulled by the roots, another one pops up in the dark hoping I won't see it. The article went on to tell of one mother's grief as she made funeral arrangements for her son who died of an overdose. When she timidly whispered the reason for her son's death, she was met with cold disdain. Somehow, that boy's life wasn't worth as much as the one who died of cancer. Apparently.
How do we decide what is compassion worthy? Or, WHO is compassion worthy? Many of us can't even give it to ourselves let alone others. At work I have witnessed some of the most kind compassion ever. Residents who look differently with radically different stories than their peers, can be found whispering words of encouragement at the meal support table or running to get a box of tissue or cup of ice for someone in distress. A 20 year old can be seen supporting her 65 year old peer and vice-versa. It's beautiful to me. They've taught me a lot. Nothing raises eyebrows.
For myself, I still stand that Jesus Christ has given and emulated compassion like no one ever. It has poured over me. I know this. There is no timidity necessary in approaching this Father of mine who hand created me into life that He died for. I can approach him 787 times for the same thing and not have to feel embarrassed. Some of my most connected times with Him have been while receiving forgiveness. The healing of that is astounding to me. How can it be that this God of mine who spoke creation into existence, parted a sea, built a lavish temple, healed people, filled His friend's nets with a ton of fish, and overcame death, actually enjoys simply spending time with me? Who else can say that about their God? NOBODY! He is the One and Only!
A sure cure for lack of compassion for others comes from spending time in that "chair." You know the place. It's where you go in solitude to pour out your heart in remorse and then turn your chin upward like one who has been forgiven and knows it. It's where your praises are lifted as well as your requests. It's where you share your life with your Father and where you come to intercede for your friends and family.
We need to be better about extending grace and giving compassion to all people. Seek to understand what you may not. Know what has been excused in yourself and you'll want to do it for others. Know that you can approach God with boldness and confidence and then become someone who is approachable. Keep one hand extended to Jesus and as He fills you with life, extend your other hand and be a life giver to someone else. This is how it works! He fills and we pour.
"Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as Christ God forgave you."
- Ephesians 4:32
"We must learn to regard people less in the light of what they do or omit to do, and more in the light of what they suffer."
- Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Amen!
Saturday, June 23, 2018
Thursday, June 14, 2018
Stop, Step Out and Step In
On my walk over to the park this morning, I found my thoughts ruminating. I was kind of all over the place. Praying, mind-wandering, praying again, burdened, and concerned. And then I thought about my destination and how much I was looking forward to getting to the park to spend time with God. I was overcome with emotion and my love and adoration for Him. A childhood song came to mind. One of the lines in it is, "I've got a home in gloryland that outshines the sun!" I thought about our lives being but a breath in the scheme of things. Our troubles are momentary compared to eternity with our Savior. Ask anybody who has come to terms with dying or some other kind of radical life change. In their wisdom, it seems like they always say how short life is and how fast everything went. Perspective changes.
One of the many things I love about the Lord is how he can change our perspective in an instant. We don't need to be facing something radical to find this. I think sometimes this falls on us, but more times than not, we have to be an intentional seeker of God's perspective. We already have an enemy vying for our attention using all sorts of methods. We also simply have life's circumstances pulling at us from every which way. Our minds can become crowded. Breaths shallow. Troubles of our own and/or those of others lume big. Our so-called self sufficiency isn't very sufficient. Our perspective is wrought with fog, distortions, and blatant lies.
Are you there, today? Then, stop! Stop now, step out, and step inside the precious, beautiful, warm, and powerful sphere of the Holy Spirit. "Lord, give us your eyes. Forgive us for forgetting you, Maker of heaven and earth. Forgive us for doubting you. Come fill us afresh with your power and perspective." We can find this place ANYWHERE. Paul of the Bible sat in chains and he found it. We can, too.
While I've always liked the song by Nora Jones, "Come Away With Me," what I love even better, is when I hear God whisper those words to me. And then I get to say, "Okay, Lord. I'm coming."
We cannot expect to calm down, feel joy and peace, and get God's perspective if we are not actively seeking it. This involves spending time with Him so we can get to know His heart and mind better. For myself, sometimes I just need to step away from everything and everyone. I need to go have a date with Jesus that is simple and refreshing. What is it that you like to do? Walk? Jog? Paint? Draw? Take photographs? Sit in the sun? Stare at the moon? Go for drives? Write? Get creative, add to the list, and do it WITH Jesus.
Stop the madness of the enemy and step into the light of the Lord's peace - from your desk, car, couch , kitchen table, or place you're standing. What we see isn't necessarily what is true. "Lord, hear the cry of your people and empower us to know, see, feel, experience and trust you with all that we are. Change our earthly perspective to a heavenly one." Amen.
Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord Almighty - our RIGHT and TRUE Perspective Giver.
One of the many things I love about the Lord is how he can change our perspective in an instant. We don't need to be facing something radical to find this. I think sometimes this falls on us, but more times than not, we have to be an intentional seeker of God's perspective. We already have an enemy vying for our attention using all sorts of methods. We also simply have life's circumstances pulling at us from every which way. Our minds can become crowded. Breaths shallow. Troubles of our own and/or those of others lume big. Our so-called self sufficiency isn't very sufficient. Our perspective is wrought with fog, distortions, and blatant lies.
Are you there, today? Then, stop! Stop now, step out, and step inside the precious, beautiful, warm, and powerful sphere of the Holy Spirit. "Lord, give us your eyes. Forgive us for forgetting you, Maker of heaven and earth. Forgive us for doubting you. Come fill us afresh with your power and perspective." We can find this place ANYWHERE. Paul of the Bible sat in chains and he found it. We can, too.
While I've always liked the song by Nora Jones, "Come Away With Me," what I love even better, is when I hear God whisper those words to me. And then I get to say, "Okay, Lord. I'm coming."
We cannot expect to calm down, feel joy and peace, and get God's perspective if we are not actively seeking it. This involves spending time with Him so we can get to know His heart and mind better. For myself, sometimes I just need to step away from everything and everyone. I need to go have a date with Jesus that is simple and refreshing. What is it that you like to do? Walk? Jog? Paint? Draw? Take photographs? Sit in the sun? Stare at the moon? Go for drives? Write? Get creative, add to the list, and do it WITH Jesus.
Stop the madness of the enemy and step into the light of the Lord's peace - from your desk, car, couch , kitchen table, or place you're standing. What we see isn't necessarily what is true. "Lord, hear the cry of your people and empower us to know, see, feel, experience and trust you with all that we are. Change our earthly perspective to a heavenly one." Amen.
Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord Almighty - our RIGHT and TRUE Perspective Giver.
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
Time For A Truth Encounter
In the last few days I've been thinking about the word shame as it relates to being female. This is a vulnerable topic that needs light shed on it - God's light. Too many of us have bought lies from the father of lies, himself. We have been inundated with them for years. Brought up with them. Trained by adults who didn't know better. Influenced by a media who doesn't know the first thing about the true value and identity of a woman. In some cases, messages given by the "the church" and scripture taken out of context have been used as manipulative weapons, only compounding feelings of shame. It goes without saying, that trauma and abuse can lead to a broken spirit with no sense of value. As women, we've bought and sold these lies ourselves.
Shame is a poisonous killer. It's crippling. It can take the most put together woman and bring her to a fetal position in the dark of night. It can make her question her abilities as a woman, wife, mother, employee or leader. I'm not a psychologist. I'm not a licensed anything. I'm no expert. But, I do have my own experiences and have sat in on the sharing of story after story of female friends and family, and literally hundreds of female residents in my job. I'm mostly going to share from my own experience and my own HEART. Who can best speak for me, but me? And, my voice matters. My heart matters. And, so does YOURS! Shame is universal and doesn't discriminate in the least. Today, I'm just choosing to talk about shame as it relates to being female. This doesn't diminish anyone else's experience and most certainly not the experiences males have had, and there are plenty.
I'm thankful to say that I'm not writing from any place of anger or hurt at the moment. I'm writing from a place that is being (as in, work in progress) healed by God with His truth, grace, love and mercy. I should highlight that word, "truth." My experiences don't even touch the flame of thousands of other women, but it's my experience nonetheless. I can be on this road, in part, because I haven't been on the bottom floor of the gutter like so many others. I want to acknowledge that right up front. I have a heart for all of my female readers and for all the places they've had to crawl out of.
I don't want this piece to be about blame, but the fact is, some are to blame. Their intent was evil and I stand by that with all my heart. I was made to feel ashamed and sub-human. The details of the circumstances aren't important and small compared to the scale of oppression other women have experienced. Nonetheless, I went through a dark time a long time ago. I "recovered" from it and life went on. Healing from that and from other experiences has been a process. I don't think I quite realized how many lies I had bought into. Some were diffused early on, while others stuck in pretty good. I understand that what happened was NOT my fault. The horrible names I was called were lies. The way I was talked about, humiliated, and degraded were about the other person, NOT me. It came from a sickened place of darkness and in my own healing and cleared vision I can say, it came from a person who was in their own deep spiral of pain. NOT an excuse and it NEVER will be. But THROUGH Jesus, and Jesus alone, I know that person was acting out of their own pain.
Satan will work himself inside any crack he can worm his way into and he did. I had to fight the belief that wearing lipstick made me words I can't even type out. I had to fight the belief that I was alone and a cast off piece of trash. I went through a time of depression. It presented itself in draining fatigue, lower back pain, and a constant fear. I remember walking around always feeling unprotected. While I had some allies, and some in unexpected places, others disappeared or worse, wounded me further. Sadly, and I mean in a heartbreaking way, some women can be the worst offenders. Mean. Jealous. Critical. Heaven forbid you look good in a mini-skirt. Because of that, I must've deserved their cruelty for sure. Their "Christian" cruelty. Ouch, of the worst kind. Again, hurt people, hurt people.
When I was in 2nd grade I earned the best dressed award at the end of the school year. Even at that young age, I remember this vague feeling that the other awards were better. Messages were given that appearance was a high value. When I was 11, after the swimming party, I was voted as having the best swimsuit. I remember the male teacher at the time asking me in front of the whole class whether I was the best looking IN the swimsuit or was it just the best swimsuit. Slowly, but surely, I hated my body. I grew at a VERY young age, to believe that my body was way too thin. It translated into me believing that I was not good enough. And as I got older, every effort, and I mean EVERY effort was put into finding clothes that could add on pounds. I would bunch up my jean pockets so I looked like I had hips. I would wear long underwear under my jeans in warm months to look heavier. I wanted to shrink with shame when I was a cheerleader in 8th grade because I hated the way my skinny legs looked in my skirt. I even bunched up my socks at my ankles thinking it would help my legs not look so thin. Girls would say, "you're so skinny, you make me sick." I couldn't tell if that was a compliment or not. I was not capable of deciphering that. All I knew, is that the words stung. I didn't have an eating disorder. I ate just fine. We had healthy food in our house and I was active, but mostly it was just hereditary.
As I write this, other memories are coming to mind that reinforced the message that my value was based on appearance. If I could look good, then somehow I was good. I could be liked. Heard. Seen. Accepted. Valued. What a load of lying crap for a precious, kind and warm, smart, insightful young girl. Leave it to hell to define my not-yet-developed-self.
When I was sixteen and on my way to work one day wearing my hideous polyester wrap around skirt and striped shirt (the Sizzler Steakhouse uniform), a guy on a motorcycle was driving next to me. He kept his speed matched with mine and begged me to pull up my skirt. This is by no stretch an isolated incident. I had guys discussing my body parts in a college class and then later told me about it, laughing. Any woman reading this knows what I'm talking about. I could give incident after incident over my 48 years. We could shrug it off as flattering, funny, harmless and no big deal, but at what point does it become just NOT okay? It's not okay when I think about my 18 year old daughter, that is FOR sure (who was recently told by a male customer that her name sounded like a stripper name - Oh, really buddy? Say that to her again in front of her father and I. I dare you.) And, we go so far as to tell ourselves to lighten up. Because to be angry or make a stand, now means we can be called the uptight "B" word which I find very degrading. Be upset, just not too upset. Feel, but don't feel. We're supposed to be complimented, after all.
I can think of a few office jobs that I had off the top of my head, where I was made to feel like a pea brained piece of @$$. One, went so far as legit sexual harassment by this wonderful married family man, a "Christian", who made my skin crawl, but I never said a word. I thought maybe it was in my head until the day I left that job and a co-worker told me that the woman before me left because she was harassed as well. I served coffee to pigs at another office who I knew asked for the coffee so they could see me walk away. Shoot, I wasn't feeling angry when I started writing but I am getting there now. And guess what? Hallelujah, IT IS OKAY! I have a right to be angry when I think about the BS I've put up with and reasoned away. God is angry about it and I can be, too.
Just trust me when I say, that I've only given a small sampling right here of things that have contributed to feeling shame. Other women's stories are the same, and FAR worse. I've had the privilege of a good husband who I met just when I needed a good friend back in 1990. He loved me as I was and still does. He knows about all of these incidences and more. He's taught our daughter that she is valuable to her core, beautiful inside and out, full of gifts, heart, brains and skills; and dearly loved by her heavenly Father. I've had other wonderfully kind boys (back then) and men in my life that have modeled goodness to me. I have a heart for men. None of my experiences diminish my overall respect for men. But, the hurt must be acknowledged and put out there. Stories need to be told. Shame needs to be uncovered. Things need to change.
This sort of seems like a good time to end, but there is more.
Women often find themselves having to posture based on their situation and surroundings. We can be incredibly capable leaders. We can have a history of leading. Be smart. Wise. Calm under fire. Hard working. Accomplished. And then in seconds, walk into an environment where we are immediately diminished, intentionally or unintentionally, simply by our gender. We feel it. We may not understand until later the why and what of it, but we FEEL it at the time. It is also likely that we can't adequately even find words to express it and when we do, we fumble. It's one of those gut and heart things. I will not downplay this. I WON'T. It's true. It's not true in every case where we feel diminished, no kidding, but it is true in enough cases. One example of this was given to me by a friend recently. She is a homemaker in every sense of the word. She oversees A LOT. And, she was overseeing some reconstruction in her home, including much of the business and financial end of things. When it came time to talk with the insurance agent, she was told ahead of time by her husband (who respects her but understood what needed to be done) to keep quiet during the discussion. The insurance agent (who happened to be male) mostly made eye contact with her husband during the discussion. She was just short of invisible despite being the one at the table with the most experience. Some could blow this off. But, let's not. Let's think a minute what that might've felt like for HER. And, that's a MILD experience as far as experiences go.
We find ourselves having to quickly adjust in a myriad of situations and I think we do it so often and so quickly that we don't even realize it sometimes, until something comes up where it actually HURTS. I've been in meetings where I instinctively knew not to bring up certain topics or opinions. I've known when I needed to agree and when to stay silent. I've walked on eggshells and have acquiesced more than I care to admit. I've brought up topics that were subtly disregarded, only to have them brought up by a man and have them considered. One time I even told one of my male friends about this. He was expressing a frustration to me about something and I told him I felt the same way. I explained that I wanted to address it but that I was reluctant because I didn't think I would be respected. His well meaning response was, "Let me handle it."
The worst is when I actually act like someone I'm not. When I dumb myself down or suddenly start going along with something I know to not be the right direction. Or, I feel the need to stroke an ego in order to keep the peace. I feel short changed. I feel phony. I don't like myself and I definitely resent the other person. It might feel kind of good to put the blame on men for these particular things. However, while there are definitely some who have deliberately put women in their place solely because they are female, I think most men do some of these things unintentionally. We all have biases. Some at the surface and some so deep we aren't conscious they are there. If I'm not being myself then I have work to do. It isn't fair to the men in my life. It's a big underestimation of both myself and them.
My husband and I have been talking with our daughter (and writing this has made me realize that I need to have some more talks with her before she leaves for college). She's been frustrated that her pay at work has been significantly less than that of her male co-workers, despite the fact that she knows how to do every job position there, has been there longer, and has been asked to train supervisors on several occasions. What about that is okay? NOTHING about it is. How do we advise her on how to talk about a raise? I suggested giving examples of why she deserves one. Certainly, don't come in mad. Don't start comparing her pay to that of her male co-workers. Even though, she has the right to calmly bring that up if her first case isn't heard. But, will she be heard if she does? Or, will it be an eye roll? Here we go...more girl drama? Do you see how this can sometimes go?
A whole other topic is what this has done to our younger generation of women and what they believe about men, family and marriage. Many of them don't want any part of it. In frustration, they move so far over that compromise sounds like a death sentence. I had one young woman actually share with me that she's offended when men open doors for her because she's capable of opening the door herself! Young couples lead very separate lives. Separate friend groups. Husbands having females as best friends and wives hanging out with their male friends. Separate nights out. Separate bank accounts. Even cooking and doing laundry separately. I'm not saying these are all bad, but for someone who has been married 24 years, I see a lot of red flags and it makes me sad. Of course this right here could lead to a whole other blog and I don't want to head there right now.
The other day I had a wonderful spiritual experience. It was a beautiful day in just about every way. And yet, something was hurting me like a thorn deep inside. I couldn't understand it. I kind of knew what it was about but my reaction wasn't making sense to me. This place deep inside felt very tender. I prayed about it and asked the Lord what it was about. I talked it over with my husband trying not to cry. I felt like a big baby. I was almost embarrassed speaking what I felt out loud, even to him. He listened and he got it. He understood and he gave me validation. But, as the night wore on, I couldn't let it go. I just felt so hurt. It was the magnitude of the hurt that was confusing to me. And, so the next day I reluctantly addressed it with the person because I cared about the relationship and because it was important to me to move forward with peace between us. It ended well and was well worth the work of moving through it.
And yet still that night, I was left feeling weak, vulnerable and embarrassed. I had to talk to God about it and just before I went to bed, the Holy Spirit welled up in me and gave me a truth revelation. He said, "Weak people don't get vulnerable and weak people don't confront what is uncomfortable head on. You can feel good about WHO YOU ARE." A weight lifted from me and I had the assurance that it was okay to stand my ground and speak my feelings. I'm learning, though. I've realized over the last few days that I often have self-condemnation. I somewhat demand of myself things that God doesn't expect. There is a shame surrounding how I feel as if those feelings shouldn't be there; that somehow I'm weak and immature. Are there elements of immaturity? Yes. And, I'm working on those pieces with God. But, am I an immature woman? NO. (see the difference?) Like I said earlier, shame is felt by everyone. Women don't have the claim on that one. But, I believe that many of my experiences as a female have contributed to some of the shame-based lies in my life. My feelings aren't frivolous. They matter and are valid. And in fact, I think I just happen to express them more than a lot of other people. Many of the rest are at home in their head feeling the same way! It's one of the reasons why I write.
There is a scene in the movie, "The Notebook" where the two main characters (Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams) are in a boat out on the lake and it starts to rain. At first this rather prim and proper woman doesn't know what to do but within seconds, she surrenders to the moment and gives up all the restraints that have held her back, societal and otherwise. She lays back in the boat unconcerned about her dress or hair and lets the rain fall down on her face without a care. She laughs this blissfully happy and girl-like laugh and becomes her full self. I was thinking about that scene last night and I got choked up. THAT is how I feel when I'm with God. I cannot talk about my struggles without also talking about the God of my life - the Man, if you will, rowing the boat in the rain.
The definition of myself, in truth and fullness, only comes from Jesus. I was created female and I'm thankful for that. I'm a wife and I'm thankful. I'm a mother who bore three children and I'm humbled at the honor and in awe of the way God knit life inside of me. I'm a homemaker and I love it. I'm grateful for all the other roles in my life of daughter, sister, friend, ministry leader, mental health worker, writer, (spitfire) and child of God. There is something about operating within the realm of the Holy Spirit that gives guidance and protection in every situation. Instruction. Counsel. There are times to speak and times to be silent. I can be submissive in the sense God expects and there is power in that. Jesus stood silent while His accusers hurled lies and insults at Him. He exuded a restrained and powerful control because He was sure of the plan His Father had. There is another blog right there - "Power, and what does it mean?" Not today, though!
Who we are for sure is not defined by media that is wrought with deception. There is good quality help and answers out there. There is even help within the core of the fight for equality. However, I speak for myself that I have found the best help, ultimately, in Jesus Christ and His word. It has always worked for me. He has secured my trust. He transforms and renews my mind all the time. I'm beginning to slowly learn that He is my protector as well, though that one He is working on with me. I haven't arrived anywhere. I'm still here just like you - maturing, failing, succeeding, fighting, falling, and GROWING. I may not even be done with this topic. Probably not. But, I want you to know how deeply valuable you are. I want you to know that your voice matters. What you have to say, God cares about. Your experiences are yours and they are not to be undermined or dismissed. Satan will lie to you about those experiences. He will make you believe that you are no good and worthless and that God doesn't care. The spirit of shame is a lie and dies under the marvelous omnipotence of our Holy God's LIGHT. I and many others are living proof that Jesus heals. His love for you has no conditions or boundaries. He is warm and tender, and everything true.
Ephesians 3:17-19
"And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge- that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God."💗
Shame is a poisonous killer. It's crippling. It can take the most put together woman and bring her to a fetal position in the dark of night. It can make her question her abilities as a woman, wife, mother, employee or leader. I'm not a psychologist. I'm not a licensed anything. I'm no expert. But, I do have my own experiences and have sat in on the sharing of story after story of female friends and family, and literally hundreds of female residents in my job. I'm mostly going to share from my own experience and my own HEART. Who can best speak for me, but me? And, my voice matters. My heart matters. And, so does YOURS! Shame is universal and doesn't discriminate in the least. Today, I'm just choosing to talk about shame as it relates to being female. This doesn't diminish anyone else's experience and most certainly not the experiences males have had, and there are plenty.
I'm thankful to say that I'm not writing from any place of anger or hurt at the moment. I'm writing from a place that is being (as in, work in progress) healed by God with His truth, grace, love and mercy. I should highlight that word, "truth." My experiences don't even touch the flame of thousands of other women, but it's my experience nonetheless. I can be on this road, in part, because I haven't been on the bottom floor of the gutter like so many others. I want to acknowledge that right up front. I have a heart for all of my female readers and for all the places they've had to crawl out of.
I don't want this piece to be about blame, but the fact is, some are to blame. Their intent was evil and I stand by that with all my heart. I was made to feel ashamed and sub-human. The details of the circumstances aren't important and small compared to the scale of oppression other women have experienced. Nonetheless, I went through a dark time a long time ago. I "recovered" from it and life went on. Healing from that and from other experiences has been a process. I don't think I quite realized how many lies I had bought into. Some were diffused early on, while others stuck in pretty good. I understand that what happened was NOT my fault. The horrible names I was called were lies. The way I was talked about, humiliated, and degraded were about the other person, NOT me. It came from a sickened place of darkness and in my own healing and cleared vision I can say, it came from a person who was in their own deep spiral of pain. NOT an excuse and it NEVER will be. But THROUGH Jesus, and Jesus alone, I know that person was acting out of their own pain.
Satan will work himself inside any crack he can worm his way into and he did. I had to fight the belief that wearing lipstick made me words I can't even type out. I had to fight the belief that I was alone and a cast off piece of trash. I went through a time of depression. It presented itself in draining fatigue, lower back pain, and a constant fear. I remember walking around always feeling unprotected. While I had some allies, and some in unexpected places, others disappeared or worse, wounded me further. Sadly, and I mean in a heartbreaking way, some women can be the worst offenders. Mean. Jealous. Critical. Heaven forbid you look good in a mini-skirt. Because of that, I must've deserved their cruelty for sure. Their "Christian" cruelty. Ouch, of the worst kind. Again, hurt people, hurt people.
When I was in 2nd grade I earned the best dressed award at the end of the school year. Even at that young age, I remember this vague feeling that the other awards were better. Messages were given that appearance was a high value. When I was 11, after the swimming party, I was voted as having the best swimsuit. I remember the male teacher at the time asking me in front of the whole class whether I was the best looking IN the swimsuit or was it just the best swimsuit. Slowly, but surely, I hated my body. I grew at a VERY young age, to believe that my body was way too thin. It translated into me believing that I was not good enough. And as I got older, every effort, and I mean EVERY effort was put into finding clothes that could add on pounds. I would bunch up my jean pockets so I looked like I had hips. I would wear long underwear under my jeans in warm months to look heavier. I wanted to shrink with shame when I was a cheerleader in 8th grade because I hated the way my skinny legs looked in my skirt. I even bunched up my socks at my ankles thinking it would help my legs not look so thin. Girls would say, "you're so skinny, you make me sick." I couldn't tell if that was a compliment or not. I was not capable of deciphering that. All I knew, is that the words stung. I didn't have an eating disorder. I ate just fine. We had healthy food in our house and I was active, but mostly it was just hereditary.
As I write this, other memories are coming to mind that reinforced the message that my value was based on appearance. If I could look good, then somehow I was good. I could be liked. Heard. Seen. Accepted. Valued. What a load of lying crap for a precious, kind and warm, smart, insightful young girl. Leave it to hell to define my not-yet-developed-self.
When I was sixteen and on my way to work one day wearing my hideous polyester wrap around skirt and striped shirt (the Sizzler Steakhouse uniform), a guy on a motorcycle was driving next to me. He kept his speed matched with mine and begged me to pull up my skirt. This is by no stretch an isolated incident. I had guys discussing my body parts in a college class and then later told me about it, laughing. Any woman reading this knows what I'm talking about. I could give incident after incident over my 48 years. We could shrug it off as flattering, funny, harmless and no big deal, but at what point does it become just NOT okay? It's not okay when I think about my 18 year old daughter, that is FOR sure (who was recently told by a male customer that her name sounded like a stripper name - Oh, really buddy? Say that to her again in front of her father and I. I dare you.) And, we go so far as to tell ourselves to lighten up. Because to be angry or make a stand, now means we can be called the uptight "B" word which I find very degrading. Be upset, just not too upset. Feel, but don't feel. We're supposed to be complimented, after all.
I can think of a few office jobs that I had off the top of my head, where I was made to feel like a pea brained piece of @$$. One, went so far as legit sexual harassment by this wonderful married family man, a "Christian", who made my skin crawl, but I never said a word. I thought maybe it was in my head until the day I left that job and a co-worker told me that the woman before me left because she was harassed as well. I served coffee to pigs at another office who I knew asked for the coffee so they could see me walk away. Shoot, I wasn't feeling angry when I started writing but I am getting there now. And guess what? Hallelujah, IT IS OKAY! I have a right to be angry when I think about the BS I've put up with and reasoned away. God is angry about it and I can be, too.
Just trust me when I say, that I've only given a small sampling right here of things that have contributed to feeling shame. Other women's stories are the same, and FAR worse. I've had the privilege of a good husband who I met just when I needed a good friend back in 1990. He loved me as I was and still does. He knows about all of these incidences and more. He's taught our daughter that she is valuable to her core, beautiful inside and out, full of gifts, heart, brains and skills; and dearly loved by her heavenly Father. I've had other wonderfully kind boys (back then) and men in my life that have modeled goodness to me. I have a heart for men. None of my experiences diminish my overall respect for men. But, the hurt must be acknowledged and put out there. Stories need to be told. Shame needs to be uncovered. Things need to change.
This sort of seems like a good time to end, but there is more.
Women often find themselves having to posture based on their situation and surroundings. We can be incredibly capable leaders. We can have a history of leading. Be smart. Wise. Calm under fire. Hard working. Accomplished. And then in seconds, walk into an environment where we are immediately diminished, intentionally or unintentionally, simply by our gender. We feel it. We may not understand until later the why and what of it, but we FEEL it at the time. It is also likely that we can't adequately even find words to express it and when we do, we fumble. It's one of those gut and heart things. I will not downplay this. I WON'T. It's true. It's not true in every case where we feel diminished, no kidding, but it is true in enough cases. One example of this was given to me by a friend recently. She is a homemaker in every sense of the word. She oversees A LOT. And, she was overseeing some reconstruction in her home, including much of the business and financial end of things. When it came time to talk with the insurance agent, she was told ahead of time by her husband (who respects her but understood what needed to be done) to keep quiet during the discussion. The insurance agent (who happened to be male) mostly made eye contact with her husband during the discussion. She was just short of invisible despite being the one at the table with the most experience. Some could blow this off. But, let's not. Let's think a minute what that might've felt like for HER. And, that's a MILD experience as far as experiences go.
We find ourselves having to quickly adjust in a myriad of situations and I think we do it so often and so quickly that we don't even realize it sometimes, until something comes up where it actually HURTS. I've been in meetings where I instinctively knew not to bring up certain topics or opinions. I've known when I needed to agree and when to stay silent. I've walked on eggshells and have acquiesced more than I care to admit. I've brought up topics that were subtly disregarded, only to have them brought up by a man and have them considered. One time I even told one of my male friends about this. He was expressing a frustration to me about something and I told him I felt the same way. I explained that I wanted to address it but that I was reluctant because I didn't think I would be respected. His well meaning response was, "Let me handle it."
The worst is when I actually act like someone I'm not. When I dumb myself down or suddenly start going along with something I know to not be the right direction. Or, I feel the need to stroke an ego in order to keep the peace. I feel short changed. I feel phony. I don't like myself and I definitely resent the other person. It might feel kind of good to put the blame on men for these particular things. However, while there are definitely some who have deliberately put women in their place solely because they are female, I think most men do some of these things unintentionally. We all have biases. Some at the surface and some so deep we aren't conscious they are there. If I'm not being myself then I have work to do. It isn't fair to the men in my life. It's a big underestimation of both myself and them.
My husband and I have been talking with our daughter (and writing this has made me realize that I need to have some more talks with her before she leaves for college). She's been frustrated that her pay at work has been significantly less than that of her male co-workers, despite the fact that she knows how to do every job position there, has been there longer, and has been asked to train supervisors on several occasions. What about that is okay? NOTHING about it is. How do we advise her on how to talk about a raise? I suggested giving examples of why she deserves one. Certainly, don't come in mad. Don't start comparing her pay to that of her male co-workers. Even though, she has the right to calmly bring that up if her first case isn't heard. But, will she be heard if she does? Or, will it be an eye roll? Here we go...more girl drama? Do you see how this can sometimes go?
A whole other topic is what this has done to our younger generation of women and what they believe about men, family and marriage. Many of them don't want any part of it. In frustration, they move so far over that compromise sounds like a death sentence. I had one young woman actually share with me that she's offended when men open doors for her because she's capable of opening the door herself! Young couples lead very separate lives. Separate friend groups. Husbands having females as best friends and wives hanging out with their male friends. Separate nights out. Separate bank accounts. Even cooking and doing laundry separately. I'm not saying these are all bad, but for someone who has been married 24 years, I see a lot of red flags and it makes me sad. Of course this right here could lead to a whole other blog and I don't want to head there right now.
The other day I had a wonderful spiritual experience. It was a beautiful day in just about every way. And yet, something was hurting me like a thorn deep inside. I couldn't understand it. I kind of knew what it was about but my reaction wasn't making sense to me. This place deep inside felt very tender. I prayed about it and asked the Lord what it was about. I talked it over with my husband trying not to cry. I felt like a big baby. I was almost embarrassed speaking what I felt out loud, even to him. He listened and he got it. He understood and he gave me validation. But, as the night wore on, I couldn't let it go. I just felt so hurt. It was the magnitude of the hurt that was confusing to me. And, so the next day I reluctantly addressed it with the person because I cared about the relationship and because it was important to me to move forward with peace between us. It ended well and was well worth the work of moving through it.
And yet still that night, I was left feeling weak, vulnerable and embarrassed. I had to talk to God about it and just before I went to bed, the Holy Spirit welled up in me and gave me a truth revelation. He said, "Weak people don't get vulnerable and weak people don't confront what is uncomfortable head on. You can feel good about WHO YOU ARE." A weight lifted from me and I had the assurance that it was okay to stand my ground and speak my feelings. I'm learning, though. I've realized over the last few days that I often have self-condemnation. I somewhat demand of myself things that God doesn't expect. There is a shame surrounding how I feel as if those feelings shouldn't be there; that somehow I'm weak and immature. Are there elements of immaturity? Yes. And, I'm working on those pieces with God. But, am I an immature woman? NO. (see the difference?) Like I said earlier, shame is felt by everyone. Women don't have the claim on that one. But, I believe that many of my experiences as a female have contributed to some of the shame-based lies in my life. My feelings aren't frivolous. They matter and are valid. And in fact, I think I just happen to express them more than a lot of other people. Many of the rest are at home in their head feeling the same way! It's one of the reasons why I write.
There is a scene in the movie, "The Notebook" where the two main characters (Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams) are in a boat out on the lake and it starts to rain. At first this rather prim and proper woman doesn't know what to do but within seconds, she surrenders to the moment and gives up all the restraints that have held her back, societal and otherwise. She lays back in the boat unconcerned about her dress or hair and lets the rain fall down on her face without a care. She laughs this blissfully happy and girl-like laugh and becomes her full self. I was thinking about that scene last night and I got choked up. THAT is how I feel when I'm with God. I cannot talk about my struggles without also talking about the God of my life - the Man, if you will, rowing the boat in the rain.
The definition of myself, in truth and fullness, only comes from Jesus. I was created female and I'm thankful for that. I'm a wife and I'm thankful. I'm a mother who bore three children and I'm humbled at the honor and in awe of the way God knit life inside of me. I'm a homemaker and I love it. I'm grateful for all the other roles in my life of daughter, sister, friend, ministry leader, mental health worker, writer, (spitfire) and child of God. There is something about operating within the realm of the Holy Spirit that gives guidance and protection in every situation. Instruction. Counsel. There are times to speak and times to be silent. I can be submissive in the sense God expects and there is power in that. Jesus stood silent while His accusers hurled lies and insults at Him. He exuded a restrained and powerful control because He was sure of the plan His Father had. There is another blog right there - "Power, and what does it mean?" Not today, though!
Who we are for sure is not defined by media that is wrought with deception. There is good quality help and answers out there. There is even help within the core of the fight for equality. However, I speak for myself that I have found the best help, ultimately, in Jesus Christ and His word. It has always worked for me. He has secured my trust. He transforms and renews my mind all the time. I'm beginning to slowly learn that He is my protector as well, though that one He is working on with me. I haven't arrived anywhere. I'm still here just like you - maturing, failing, succeeding, fighting, falling, and GROWING. I may not even be done with this topic. Probably not. But, I want you to know how deeply valuable you are. I want you to know that your voice matters. What you have to say, God cares about. Your experiences are yours and they are not to be undermined or dismissed. Satan will lie to you about those experiences. He will make you believe that you are no good and worthless and that God doesn't care. The spirit of shame is a lie and dies under the marvelous omnipotence of our Holy God's LIGHT. I and many others are living proof that Jesus heals. His love for you has no conditions or boundaries. He is warm and tender, and everything true.
Ephesians 3:17-19
"And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge- that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God."💗
Friday, June 1, 2018
She Is Me!
Sometimes it's the little things that bring out the most tender and powerful acts of worship in me. I was the serious type of child growing up, often found with my nose in a book. I was quiet, shy and unfortunately, anxious. I didn't like recess that much and remember preferring to stay inside and write on the chalkboard. I enjoyed parties, but not the games. While I had dolls, the faze was quick. I don't recall being goofy or silly or even watching that many cartoons. I was a responsible thinker, feeler, and fixer. Old, but in a child's body.
A few years ago, following a difficult time, this little girl emerged in me that was somehow different than the girl of long ago. This was another aspect of that inner-child we all have. You know, the child who bruises easily, responds hastily, over reacts, recoils in fear, and has the biggest of hearts. We all have that little him or her - the best and worst of us in little form with big influence. That tender piece inside. The one who often needs holding, healing, and to know the truth. Because, little people often interpret things, especially painful things, as meaning something is wrong with them. That child is precious to God. That child has been adopted by the Father into all that He encompasses. Lavish red carpets unfold for these little ones and their vulnerability is safely held close to His heart. It's at this place where His whispered truths allow the greatest kind of healing. It's the kind where the little one is able to be set down and run to the others to play with abandon, looking over from time to time to smile and wave. She knows who she is. She KNOWS her Daddy. Aaaahhh...Jesus is so good.
What emerged in me a few years ago was something new and special. A wonderment. A marveling. New senses. This little girl part of me that loved the moon and didn't mind watching ants. Who absorbed meaning from the feel of her pulse. That got excited spotting a daisy pillow up high and across the store at Salvation Army. Someone who would arrange and rearrange her newfound bargain kitchen center piece for a good 15 minutes, and then clap her hands like a two year old when it looked just right. And oh, thanking God over and over for the smell of coffee and the solitude of her living room. It has all been God. He's invited into the wonderment. He is the wonderment. I walk with Him. I see things through His eyes. I feel like an innocent and happy 8 year old tearing the wrapping paper off gift after gift. And, IT'S ALL THE TIME. What is this joy in me? I'm amazed at His revelations. I love to hear Him laugh and see Him smile. He is great fun of the best kind. I am a child again when I walk the forest in search of something pretty. Only this child is NEW. So new, that I can't even explain her adequately. She can be serious but FREE. So free. And, moving with the breeze that blows across her face. I didn't get her then but God has gifted me ten times over with her now. What was taken has been given and the greatest part is that she isn't "she" or "her" anymore. SHE IS ME!
The worship that comes from the most enormous of smalls is extraordinarily powerful.
Amen.
A few years ago, following a difficult time, this little girl emerged in me that was somehow different than the girl of long ago. This was another aspect of that inner-child we all have. You know, the child who bruises easily, responds hastily, over reacts, recoils in fear, and has the biggest of hearts. We all have that little him or her - the best and worst of us in little form with big influence. That tender piece inside. The one who often needs holding, healing, and to know the truth. Because, little people often interpret things, especially painful things, as meaning something is wrong with them. That child is precious to God. That child has been adopted by the Father into all that He encompasses. Lavish red carpets unfold for these little ones and their vulnerability is safely held close to His heart. It's at this place where His whispered truths allow the greatest kind of healing. It's the kind where the little one is able to be set down and run to the others to play with abandon, looking over from time to time to smile and wave. She knows who she is. She KNOWS her Daddy. Aaaahhh...Jesus is so good.
What emerged in me a few years ago was something new and special. A wonderment. A marveling. New senses. This little girl part of me that loved the moon and didn't mind watching ants. Who absorbed meaning from the feel of her pulse. That got excited spotting a daisy pillow up high and across the store at Salvation Army. Someone who would arrange and rearrange her newfound bargain kitchen center piece for a good 15 minutes, and then clap her hands like a two year old when it looked just right. And oh, thanking God over and over for the smell of coffee and the solitude of her living room. It has all been God. He's invited into the wonderment. He is the wonderment. I walk with Him. I see things through His eyes. I feel like an innocent and happy 8 year old tearing the wrapping paper off gift after gift. And, IT'S ALL THE TIME. What is this joy in me? I'm amazed at His revelations. I love to hear Him laugh and see Him smile. He is great fun of the best kind. I am a child again when I walk the forest in search of something pretty. Only this child is NEW. So new, that I can't even explain her adequately. She can be serious but FREE. So free. And, moving with the breeze that blows across her face. I didn't get her then but God has gifted me ten times over with her now. What was taken has been given and the greatest part is that she isn't "she" or "her" anymore. SHE IS ME!
The worship that comes from the most enormous of smalls is extraordinarily powerful.
Amen.
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