I Don't Love You, But I Always Will

This is actually a lyric from a song that I can barely listen to because it brings me to that gut-wrenching pain I try to avoid.  It is actually a love song, but as I was getting ready to blog, it is the line that keeps popping up in my head.

As terrified as I was to do it, I finally wrote a letter to my dad. Whether I send it or not is to be determined, but I probably will.  If nothing else, it offers an explanation as to why I don't typically call on holidays. I realize there is a lot for me to learn from my relationship with him that I can transfer to other relationships. No matter how hard I try, I can't make it in to something it is not.  I can't make him want to know me. I can't make him affirm me. I can't make him tell me everything I have ever wanted to hear from a father...and I wish to God that people would stop trying to make up for it. Just because a relationship fails or fails to meet my/your/our expectations, a pithy substitute isn't going to fix it. I just need to deal with it.  I want something I can't have. A stepdad or father figure won't fix it. Another relationship that feels safe won't fix it. It is what it is. I love my dad because he biologically contributed to my makeup and because I have a lot of his personality and would not be who I am had he not contributed to my makeup. That said, he is hard to love and has done nothing to earn my love...but I will always love him.

Represent



Every day I walk out of my home or car I am representing someone or something. It may be myself, my husband, my kids, my faith, a school, a sports team...I could go on and on. I think I have always taken for granted that I would fairly represent or be fairly represented, but that isn't true. People will jump to conclusions quickly and will formulate opinions based on just a few seconds of conversation. I already struggle enough to come out of my shell without having to factor in that people are continually evaluating me. Which brings up another dichotomy in my life. I constantly say that there is no one that truly knows me or would want to and then I get annoyed because people assume they know me and jump to uninformed conclusions even though they really have no idea who I am. It is just one more reason I would much rather be living on a desert island.

Furniture

In the midst of a deep discussion today...ok..a counseling session, I was given the analogy of "if everything in your house burned down wouldn't you go out and buy new furniture?" The point that was trying to be made was that if what you have been dealt thus far turns to shit and ceases to exist, you would go out and replace it. I think know that the counselor was trying to get me to understand that I needed to start replacing some faulty messages and lies I had been told all of my life with things that were good and true. I got the last laugh. When he asked if I would go get new furniture after a house fire, I said, "Yes, but I would go to a thrift store to get it because I would not want to replace it with anything that I valued too much lest the house burn down again.". I think I stumped him. If nothing else, he got a clearer idea of where I am coming from and how far I have to go. What can I say? I'm risk adverse and I try to limit my losses. The thought of feeling gut wrenching pain is enough to force me to throw up walls wherever I can. That said, I will try to see if I can't get it through my thick skull that whether or not I'm ever told this side of Heaven that I have value and worth, that I would know it and believe it...because everyone has value and everyone has worth.  Some may be higher than others, but in the eyes of God, I believe that He values all of us the same. Billy Graham has no more value to Him that the beggar on the street corner.  If anything, His heart may be more inclined towards the beggar.

Teddy

 

 

This summer I heard a speaker share and he opened up his talk by sharing about his dog, Teddy, that had been rescued from the pound. He didn't have a lot of prior history, but he knew that Teddy had been abused and needed a lot of TLC. He also had another dog at home already so he was hoping that having a "friend' would help Teddy to trust again. After months and months of Teddy's timid and shy behavior it was obvious that  there were still deep wounds. I'm not sure how or when the videos were taken, but they often showed Teddy off the side watching his friend leap into his master's arm and showering him with kisses. Teddy had a wall up. If I didn't know better, I would have thought this was a video that was purchased for the sole purpose of making the talk more interesting. But this was real and what I watched felt so real to me. So many days I stand off to the side and watch the world and wonder how they can trust so easy. How can they just be so carefree? Are they on medication? Do I need medication? Maybe if I cared less, I would be more carefree.

 

As the video progressed forward nine months, it showed the speaker walking in the door to his home and Teddy fighting his friend to see who would be the first to jump into the master's arms. Nine months of watching and waiting and learning to trust. Nine months of seeing the master's care and knowing that he was safe and that he wasn't going to harm Teddy. I want to be more like that. I want to trust that the world isn't going to turn on me when I'm not looking? I want to trust that the Master is just waiting for me to trust Him wholeheartedly and to leap into His arms. I bet that would feel good. But it has been more than nine months already and someday I think it may be forever before I trust that someone won't hurt me. But that is an illusion. I hurt people without meaning to (which makes me withdrawal so that I am not causing pain) and people will hurt me without meaning to...and I need to be resilient enough to not take it personal or to not hold a grudge. I need to be able to leap without fear into the arms that want to hold me. I need to trust.

Sometimes When You Lose, You Win

 

As I move each day towards making some sense of the world, I am reminded of one of my favorite movie lines…”sometimes when you win, you lose” which was followed later on by “sometimes when you lose, you win”. And that is kind of the hope in this life…that it will all balance out in the end. When I think of some of my greatest wins in life, there is always the hint of loss in the background. I may have gotten what I thought I wanted, but what had to die in order for me to get there? The wins aren’t always as sweet as they could be in my life because I realize that there is always sacrifice involved. On the flip side, in the valleys of life which seem littered with losses, victory seems like it is just within reach. Because out of some of my greatest losses, there has been new growth and new beginnings.  It is just a matter of remembering that life is a balance.

When Hope Is Lost

 

After yesterday, I started thinking more about my grandfather. He was a good man. He was a great man. He did right by me in a MILLION ways. He loved me fiercely and in tangible ways. He didn’t enable me (although I’m sure my mom would disagree) but he was gentle with me because I was the only granddaughter. That said, when I turned 17 and wanted to buy my first car for $500 (crazy, right?) he loaned me the money and included the terms of the loan with the payoff amount and monthly payment due by the 15^th of each month. I worked at a Hallmark store after school and barely made enough each month  to cover my gas, insurance and $67.50 car payment.

When I ended up attending a Christian college very close to home, he would sometimes come and join me at chapels. I promise he was the only 70something wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a baseball cap. I always felt like an oddball in my family because I was a collection of recessive genes. Blond hair, blue eyes, left handed and fair skin. I got all of it from my grandpa. And the similarities went deeper. We bonded over Root Beer Floats and breakfast. I can’t tell you how many breakfasts we shared over the last 15 years of his life. We would not talk much (unless it was about the stock market), but we were just together.  After he retired in 1986 he kept himself extremely busy by volunteering his time with various civic duties and church activities. A lot of times he probably took on too much, but I think he enjoyed most everything he did and I know I felt a sense of pride in all the good he was doing. My reasoning for mentioning this is that he did a 1 year term as Lieutenant Governor for Kiwanis in 1996. I don’t remember all the details, but I do remember that there was a cruise scheduled for Kiwanis that coincided with my college graduation. To this day, I am still the only member of my family with a 4 year college degree. My grandpa and grandma went on the cruise instead.

There were a lot of people that were at my graduation. I think my dad was there, but I don’t remember to be honest. The one person that I needed to be there…was not there. And I don’t think he ever really apologized for it. I know he said he was sorry that it conflicted, but I never saw that it bothered him as much as it bothered me. Maybe he just didn’t show it to me, but I needed him to. Because to this day, I wonder if maybe it just wasn’t as important to him as it was to me…which turns into maybe I wasn’t  as important to him and he was to me. I know that isn’t true, but at 41 I still can’t understand why he didn’t choose me over the cruise. I know it is the past and there is no way to fix it, but this is just one example of what my brain does…the lie that I believe…why wasn’t it me? Why wasn’t I more important? And my answer…because you aren’t.  This isn’t about having people come around me and tell me I am important, this is about the people who are important to me telling me I am important to them. And when they don’t, I tell myself I’m not important. And I have now reached a point in life where I wake up literally everyday telling myself “I’m not important” and “I’m not loved” so that I know what to expect. And when I hope or start to think that maybe just maybe I have more value than I think, I go and test it out and am reminded again, I’m not important.

This isn’t about my children…I know I am important to them. That involves an entirely different tank and I will be damned if I ever choose what I want over what they NEED. When they need me there…I am going to be there. My hope and prayer is that they never have to question their importance…then again, I don’t struggle nearly as much with knowing my value with the females in my life.

So since I can’t write a letter and talk this out with my grandpa, maybe it is time I move down the line and reach out to my dad. It has been a few years. The thought of reaching out terrifies me because there is a 99% chance that I will be reminded that I’m not important. I don’t think he is equipped to respond in a way that is apologetic. And I don’t think I’m looking to reestablish a relationship, rather I’m hoping that he will say that he is sorry for leading me to believe that I was not important.  That word…HOPE…I hate it. I don’t have it. I lost it when my grandpa died. I knew I would never be loved like that again and so I stopped hoping that I would be and accepted that I would have to OK on my own.

The Difference

For most of my life I have hoped to feel or look different than the way that I do. I think most everyone has something they would change about themselves. I often play/played the “if only “game.  As an adult, I have the head knowledge to know that “if only” has nothing to do with how I look and everything to do with how I feel. Even if we get the verbal accolades and recognition, we still feel discontent…or at least I do. And I have been trying to think about why that is. Is it about getting the accolades from the right people? Is it about knowing who we are inside the packaging? I think it is a little of both, but more about BELIEVEING. I know I wrote about that before, but I’ve always left out the word CHOOSE. I have to choose to believe who I am and that takes a tremendous amount of FAITH.

I can do faith in church. I can read God’s Word and claim His promises. I can trust that He has a plan that is bigger than me and that His plan is ultimately for my good. It isn’t easy, but it feels relatively safe. I have a much harder time doing faith with me. The “Words” I have had in my life have told me something different than what I am supposed to believe.  What if I believe something good about myself that just isn’t true? I know I am believing lies now….meaning I tell myself I'm less than, but isn’t it better to believe a bad lie and be wrong than to believe a good lie and be wrong? I’d rather believe that I’m not lovable and be pleasantly surprised than think that I am loved and be totally wrong. Because I have been wrong before and I don’t want to hold on to something that isn’t true ever again. If it has the potential to change then I don't want to hold on to it.

I had someone ask me today what I was running from. I didn’t realize that I was running, but I probably am. I’m running from hurt. Because I can count on one hand the times that I have cried from such a deep place of loss that I don’t want to ever let myself feel that way again. But that isn’t possible. I’m trying to make it possible. I try to limit the amount of people that I love so that less of me is exposed and I’m ashamed about that. Just because someone loves me am I obligated to love them back? Because if I love them back they will hurt me and leave me. I think this actually goes much deeper. It is not just about people in general…it is about the men in my life. I have had my heart broken by three different people in my life and all of them were men and none of them really knew how to love well. I think my grandfather made great strides towards loving well later in his life, but there were still moments of great wounding. And I know wounding is inevitable, but it would have meant everything – would mean everything – to hear “I’m sorry for not loving you well. I’m sorry for not making you the priority when I should have. I’m sorry for choosing what was best for me in the moments when you really needed me to choose what was best for you.” That would have made a difference.

The Mantel

I've been spending quite a bit of time of late focusing on this scene. This is my living room, aka The Christmas Tree room. It is the room that doesn't get used much unless someone is trying to hide or escape. This is just a shot of the mantle, but just to the left is a small couch that sits in front of two very tall windows.  Outside of those windows are lots of veryveryvery tall evergreens. It is a good spot to escape. Around this time of year it is the perfect spot because I put up my Thankful banner for Thanksgiving and will soon hang the stockings with care. But as I focus on it right now, I focus on the banner and the simplicity...and I focus on the mantel. A mantel is something that covers or frames. What do I want to mantel my life? Thankfulness. What do I want to sit on top of my thankfulness? Light.

For those outside of the Seattle/Pacific Northwest (and SF), the amazing votives on the mantel are Glassbabys. Aside from the amazing spirit in which these were founded, each Glassybaby has a name and a "spirit" if you will. This is my more reflective collection. My favorite one is Hide and Seek. On days when life gets a bit jumbled...I like to Hide and Seek. I may light my Glassys, come here to read my Bible, read a book, write a blog or just sip a hot cup of tea and refocus...on being thankful...because there is so much to be thankful for.

I had a conversation just today about perspective. I don't consider myself an optimist...rather I try to always step back, take my thoughts captive and look for the good...because there is always good. Even in the midst of my greatest tragedies, there has been good. Yes, there is always someone worse off than me, but in reality, when my basic needs are being met, there is a reason to be thankful. So today - a day when I'm feeling more contemplative - I choose to mantel my life with Thankfulness and Light because it is sunny (Yes, I have the Sunshine glassybaby), I am healthy, my needs are being met and while life may not always look the way I want it to or the way I think it should, I trust that I am right where I am suppose to be and that I can either fight it or rest in it...and I will rest in it.

Trapped by Choice?

There is a 3 year old little guy that lives with me that is a picture of dichotomy. As soon as I found out that #3 was going to be a boy, I had to gear myself up for the sheer ENERGY of what was to come. I confess I had a ton of preconceived notions - he would walk when he was 9 months old (he was 15 months and I was starting to worry), he would climb out of his crib at 18 months (I'll get back to that) and that he would barely be potty trained by the time he started kindergarten (he was the easiest and the youngest of my 3 kids).

But back to the crib. He has made no attempt to get out. NONE. I have been in no rush to get him out because he is still an energetic guy and would cause havoc if he was given that kind of freedom. He is also potty trained so he is at our mercy to get him up to use the bathroom or he has to use his pull-up. After much debate, I took the side off of his crib on Tuesday and held my breath. I was prepared for 84 trips back and forth into his bed and to remind him that it was time to sleep.  See where I'm going here?...Dude doesn't get out of his bed.  He lays there and talks and sleeps and calls for me. There.is.nothing.holding.him.in

Is it Pavlovian? Learned behavior? He is a super smart kid so it is only a matter of time before he figures it out, but I'm not about to suggest anything.  I did tell him that he could get up if needed to go to the bathroom in the morning, but he hasn't.

So the point...how many of us live life feeling like we can't get out of the bed when all the while there is nothing holding us in? It is one thing to choose to stay in our circumstances, but are we staying because we don't know we can move? I talk to so many people who feel like they don't have options. Maybe because I'm further back I have different perspective, but on the other hand, maybe I am too quick to look for the way out. I definitely take into account how my decisions will affect those around me and if it is a price they should have to pay, but I also know that I want to always know what my choices are. I don't want to look back in regret so I'm constantly surveying to make sure that I would still make the same choices today that I would have made yesterday.  It hasn't always been like that, but since "growing up" a few years back...I want to make sure that I can live with my choices.

So the question is, are we really trapped or a we simply choosing the circumstances that we find ourselves in because we don't see any other option?

Footnote: I realized after the fact that this may come across differently than I intended. After more thought, I think it has more to do with feeling safe within our circumstances rather than trapped.  Maybe we do see other options but we opt for the safe option. So which is better? To be safe and never take the risk of getting out of our comfort zone or to leave our comfort zone and subject ourselves to the gamut of emotions that come with exposure? 

Let Whatever You Do Today Be Enough

How do we measure or evaluate what we do? Just because we may not receive grand recognition or a Nobel Peace Prize nomination, does it change the value of what we do?

Ten years ago I sat in a group and started to feel anxious. I was deep in the trenches with an almost two year old and had just found out I was pregnant again. Changing the world was not on my short list of things to accomplish that day. Even as I listened to the other women share what they were doing (and they had young kids as well) I felt insignificant.

But then...came the voice of reason and truth from one of the mentor/seasoned/experienced women in the group. "You are shaping the life/lives of small people.  You are telling them about God's love, meeting their physical and emotional needs throughout every day and you are sacrificing so much to usher these small people into adulthood. You are making a huge difference." And there was a sigh of relief...at least from me. I don't think I will change the world, but if I start with one (or 3) people and focus on them, then just maybe they will in turn be  change makers in someone else's life. I can't expect to solve labor issues in 3rd world countries, but I can instill a strong work ethic and model a strong work ethic to the people around me. I can teach my children how to be fair and honest and to show grace to those around them.

Just yesterday, my oldest daughter came home telling me that our neighbor asked her to babysit and how much she charged. When she answered (with a reasonable amount for an 11 year old to be paid), the neighbor said "oh no, we pay $20 an hour". Needless to say, she was thrilled, but I told her that would not happen because she didn't need to be making more than someone working at McDonald's or Starbuck. I also explained to her that her attitude would change if she were paid that much money. There are people who don't go out with their spouses because the cost of babysitting is too expensive. I don't want her to start turning down jobs or feeling indifferent because she doesn't think she is being paid fairly. On the flip side, if she wants to take the money that she were to make from our neighbors and use it  adopt a family this Christmas or to buy some gasoline for generators at Tent City, that would be OK, but I didn't want the money to go towards an iPad or Uggs. I may have gone on a tangent here, but my point is that adopting a family, reaching out to the homeless community, raking leaves for an elderly neighbor or taking a meal to a family in need can carry just as much weight and impact. I know people may argue that you are feeding thousands or bringing a global awareness to a larger need, but you are investing in people and building relationships.

Don’t undermine what you do each day. I have a sign that I see when I wake up each morning that says “Let whatever you do today be enough”. Let it. Today may be better than tomorrow, but there will always be another tomorrow.

Don't Feel, Just Deal

 

This book may be the end of me. I'm good at stuffing and dealing.  I manage my emotions.  Heck, I manage OTHERS emotions. For the most part, I can say life is good on any given day.  It isn't perfect, but I can step back and get perspective rather quickly. There is always a thread of melancholy, but I typically chalk that up to my introversion. But now...we started reading this book with a few other people and I find myself pissed off quite a bit. If there wasn't the accountability to follow through, I would have thrown it across the room weeks ago.  The "homework" for this week was to try and figure out our "love style"...whatever that means. Because after taking the quiz, it wasn't an ambiguous answer (13/14 answers) but rather a glaring microscope in to how I am wired...only this book isn't about wiring as much as it is about imprinting and the way we learned to cope based on our childhoods. I know in the long run it is good for me to have this knowledge and to have the tools to try and work towards a healthier way of existing, but right now it just feels uncomfortable and I'd much rather avoid dealing with it. Any guesses as to my results?

Actually

 

 

It was Christmas 1988 and I was a sophomore in high school.  I don't remember wanting much more than for my mom to put our house up for sale so that I could be eligible to play Varsity softball. I had transferred high schools and as a result was told that I had lost my eligibility to play at the varsity level until I had been enrolled for a full school year or had a new mailing address outside of the district I was living in. Basically, life sucked and I had no control over my circumstances. My mom had been dating the same guy (my stepdad) for a few years at that point and while we didn't say much to each other (which was because neither one of us is big on talking), apparently he knew what the cool gift was for a 15 year old girl. Not only did I unwrap this amazing device on Christmas Eve, I had this included in the package.

 

 

 

 

Not sure what this is?  This my friends was my very first CD that I listened to overandoverandoverandover again. It didn't seem like such a big deal at the time, but looking back, and remembering how raw life felt at 15, I am so grateful that I could listen to "What Have I Done To Deserve This?" on repeat. I don't think I knew what the song was about, but I could certainly resonate with the chorus of "how am I gonna get through". It is funny how 26 years later when I listen to this song it takes me back to those nights of laying in bed thinking that nothing would ever be as hard as 15. Boy was I wrong. 

Consider the Source

 

We talk a lot about filling buckets in this house.  Not only do we focus on filling, but we also address emptying.  The old adage of "If you can't say something nice don't say anything at all" starts to make for some quiet meals. Instead, we will try to steer the atmosphere towards "filling" by having everyone say something - ANYTHING - they appreciate about each person in the family.

While I enjoy this exercise, I always find it interesting at who is able to look each person in the eye while being complimented and who can't bear to look up.  It is as if by looking up and into the eyes of the person complimenting, one has to acknowledge...dare I say...believe what is being said about him/her.  I think the other part of the equation that often makes me wonder is how it is typically the female gender that can't bear to hear the good stuff. And even further than having a hard time with the message, is who the messenger is. We can hear twenty good things - about an outfit, a character quality, a job well done - but if it doesn't come from the RIGHT person, it doesn't count.  The same could be true about the negatives. If the WRONG person critiques us, it can completely unravel us.

Why is it that we give another person that much power?  Why can't we have enough self-worth to take in the truth and reject the lie? I don't have an answer. I want to.  I want to think that I can rise above caring and go all Stuart Smalley, (I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and Gosh Darn it, people like me) but the truth is that I'm second guessing every compliment I hear until I hear it from the right person...which then takes me even deeper.  Because the RIGHT person will never tell me what I want to hear. I can spend a lifetime on the hamster wheel and I know that I know that I know that I will die waiting for the words I want to hear.  So I guess it goes back to my post from last week...who do I think that I am?  Who and what will determine my value and my worth? Am I more than what I portray to my neighbors and friends?  Am I more that a Facebook post? Am I more than my Myers-Briggs? My accomplishments and my IQ?

I know I am, but do I believe I am?

Deep Thoughts

 

As I left the Seahawks game today, ticket in hand, my first stop was not the restroom, but rather the closest 7-11. I was anxious to claim my beef jerky and free Slurpee. So from this endeavor came an observation...why did I NEED the Slurpee when it is in the low 50s and I'm freezing? I promptly got a Starbucks to ward off the brain freeze. But in mind it is absolutely reasonable to chase a frozen drink with a hot coffee, right?

The other entertaining part of the story is that yesterday we did a Pay It Forward in the Starbucks drive thru. My kids loved it and my husband looked at me like I had lost my mind. Apparently this wasn't something he had ever done before and he claimed that he had NEVER been the recipient. I didn't want to make him feel too bad, but clearly he had some bad mojo going on. The hilarious part...as we are in 7-11 getting our free swag (which is a small Slurpee and bag of beef jerky) the guy at the counter says, "get a big one, get whatever you want, it is on me". I attribute this to two things...maybe three.

1. A Hawk's win
2. Good mojo from yesterday's pay it forward
3. God wanting to show the husband that blessings can come in many forms...including Slurpees.

Who Is Really Watching?

 

 

I’m never quite sure how people see me or view me. Referencing back to yesterday and my lack of vulnerability at times, I don’t put myself out there too often. Maybe I do, but it is usually with safe topics. In the midst of a hard conversation last weekend, I felt like I needed to preface it with, “I’m not sure how well you know me or my character, but”. And I got one of the most amazing responses AND a reminder that it is the tiny, small things we do that show who we really are.

Two years ago my football team and her football team played each other. For fun we each agreed that the loser would have to wear the winning teams sweatshirt for a day. The interesting part of that last sentence is that neither one of us really sees football as fun. We kind of, sort of take it REALLY serious. So when my team won and her team lost, I picked my brightest and most obnoxious sweatshirt and took it with me to a softball game for our daughters…only I couldn’t go through with it. I knew how pissed I would be and how utterly livid it would make me to then have to parade around with a garment of shame. So I took the sweatshirt out, showed it to her, set it next to her and told her she didn’t have to wear it because I knew how painful it would have been for me to wear her sweatshirt.

When I talked with her last weekend, she said that she knew exactly who I was when I didn't make her wear my sweatshirt. Who knew?!

Fast forward to today. I lost a bet. For the next 24 hours I need to suffer through something shameful. In the grand scale of life, it is far from the true definition of shameful, but it still hurts. Losing a bet just stings. Some may say don’t bet, but there is also something to be said for loving and believing in something so much that you are willing to risk something. It is a form of vulnerability in a much safer realm…although when the risk doesn’t pay off it doesn’t feel so safe. BUT…I followed through on the bet even though it hurts. And I could cheat and not follow through, but it reminds me that what I do in the very small moments are the things that matter most. What I do when no one is watching or just one person is watching can have a longer lasting impact and can speak a far louder message than if I were standing in front of a hundred people. So how will you choose to live in the moments when no one is watching?



Vulnerability

Vulnerable - adjective 1. capable of being physically or emotionally wounded or hurt 2. open to temptation, persuasion, censure 3. liable or exposed to disease, disaster

As I was looking through my morning news feed I came across a quick little video by Brene Brown which then led me to listen to her TEDtalk. Not how I expected to start my day. On any given day, I watch, see, take in quite a bit of information that either reinforces something I already know or factually reports events that have just occurred. I guess that is an arrogant way of saying that not much surprises me or stops me in my tracks. I think I’m pretty open minded and open to new ideas, I just don’t feel like I hear a lot of new ideas. This morning I did. I had heard of Brene Brown before and heard her talk about the differences between sympathy and empathy. I had not heard her talk about vulnerability before. I’m sure this is a topic I will revisit as I now understand there are multiple facets to vulnerability.

So looking at the definition that I copy and pasted above, there is clearly a negative connotation to the word vulnerability. I’ve always seen it as negative and risky. Quality relationships are built on vulnerability, which require a tremendous amount of trust (which could be a whole post in and of itself). Quality people are built on vulnerability. What was fascinating to me was that she shared about meeting with the ALS interpreter before a talk and the interpreter asking if there were any unusual words that she would be using during the talk. When she mentioned “vulnerability”, the interpreter said the signed was two fingers on the palm bending. When Brene asked about it the response was “this is weak kneed”. The interpreter said the only other way she had seen it signed was as fists pressed to the chest extending out and opening up. THAT is how she meant vulnerability. Vulnerability is courageous. It is putting yourself out there. I’ve never thought of it that way…ever.

I’m all about self-preservation. I pride myself on setting boundaries that are healthy. I may have taken it too far.  Over the past couple of months, I’ve come to realize that in establishing boundaries, I have put up walls. Rather than “being smart”, I’ve become distrustful and cynical. Most people walk through life feeling shame or feeling worthy. The difference between these two groups is vulnerability. Vulnerability sounds painful and messy. Vulnerability doesn’t seem courageous and yet I learned this morning, it is. Courageous (in Latin) means to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart. It isn’t about bravery. Vulnerability is compassionate, but you can’t be compassionate to someone else if you aren’t compassionate with yourself. Vulnerability is about connection. Connection is about letting go of who you think you should be to be who you truly are. But what if we don’t feel worthy of compassion and connection? What if we don’t want to share our whole heart? People who feel worthy don’t see vulnerability as excruciating and uncomfortable, they see it as necessary. They are willing to show up and be seen when there are no guarantees. Do you see what I mean about having my mind blown? That is not me, but I want it to be me.
 

 

“Vulnerability is courage in you, but weakness in me. When I meet you, it is the first thing I look for in you, but it is the last thing I want to show you in me.” – Brene Brown

 How do you define vulnerability and how vulnerable are you with the people around you?

Tell Me Your Troubles and Doubts

I would like to say I thought long and hard about the title of this blog, but I did not. My name is Victoria and I’m a John Hughesaholic. Seriously. I’ve made the pilgrimage to the North Shore of Chicago. I stood on the steps of Glencoe Union Church and pretended that Jake Ryan was leaning against his red Porsche mouthing the words, “Yes, you.” (did I really just admit that?!) I’ve seen the football field John Bender walks across at the end of detention. I stood by the flagpole in front of Niles East High School (from 16 Candles) OK…not the point of the blog. My point is that there are certain movies from the 80s that are not to be ignored. As John Bender told Claire (which is NOT a fat girl’s name) “you couldn’t ignore me if you tried”. What follows is my list of the 10 movies that I believe every high school senior should be required to watch before graduating.  There probably could be another list to watch before graduating college. If that is too ambitions, focus on the top 5. I just couldn’t bring myself to stop at 5 and 5 honorable mentions seemed like I was cheating.

10. Stand By Me (1986) – I know it takes place in the 50s which makes some of it seem a bit cheesy, but the reason for this making the list is because it is a great lesson in that some of your best memories in life were made when you were twelve. You may lose touch with those people (obviously FB made it easier for our generation), but the adventures and conversations you have with your friends when you are twelve will bind you for life.

9. Lucas (1986) – A bit cliché, but what stands out besides the classic unrequited love story is that Maggie didn’t really know Lucas. She thought she did, but Rina (Wynona Ryder’s film debut) tells Maggie that Lucas doesn’t live in a mansion…he mows the lawn there.  He really lives in a trailer park with his alcoholic father. And Lucas doesn’t really know Cappie or Maggie either.  There are so many gross assumptions made in life…especially in high school, that you need to step back and take the time to get to know someone.  Also, you should not try to play football without a helmet. It will hurt you…but earn you a letterman’s jacket.

8. Just One of The Guys (1985) – What would it be like to walk in the other gender’s shoes for a week or a month? Teri decides to become a dude and enroll at a rival high school to prove that she is being discriminated against because she is pretty and a girl. Unfortunately after posing as a dude, her new journalism teacher tells her that her article still isn’t good. In the meantime she has taken on a project (again a cliché plot line) when she meets nerdy Rick and decides to make him cool. And she does and he takes a cheerleader to prom, but Teri’s boyfriend shows up and Teri now likes Rick and so she kisses him, which is AWWKWARD…because he is  a she but looks like a he, but Rick was totally cool about it.  He stormed out of the prom, but he seemed unfazed. In the meantime, Teri becomes a girl again and writes are article for the paper at her old/original school about what it was like to be an undercover guy…and then she gets the mad props she wants for her writing…and she gets Rick. The point of seeing this movie…not everything is about gender and you can’t expect to play the (fill in the blank) card every time something doesn’t go your way.

7. Heathers (1989) – Oh where to begin with this one? Cliques and girls.  They are vicious and ugly and superficial. Clearly this is a DARK movie, but the point of watching it is to realize that no matter how much it seems like the “popular” people have it together, they don’t. They are just as insecure, if not more and they will often turn on anyone at the drop of a hat just to maintain their status. That said, Veronica totally regretted hanging out with the Heathers (and hanging out with a boy name J.D. – that seemed doomed from the start). The thing is…Veronica was smart and while she didn’t have any intent to kill from the beginning, she was on to J.D. and was able to stop him before he killed the whole student body by making it seem like a mass suicide. And for the sake of mentioning it, the dialogue is pretty hilarious in a sarcastic, snarky kind of way.

6. Can’t Buy Me Love (1987) – Any girl that says they fell in love with McDreamy in 200-whatever can just bite me! The moment Ronnie drove that lawn mower across the screen, I knew we had a thing going on. The problem was that he had a thing for a girl SOOOOOOO out of his league. And to spend all that money he made mowing lawns (to rent a girlfriend for a month) just so she could replace a leather suit (bad fashion choice even in ’87) and he could be cool (was this sort of like a glorified escort?)…I didn’t get it. The lesson in it though is that popularity can go to anyone’s head and make them not so cute anymore. And popularity is empty. And boyfriends that go to college will forget you. And if you were cute and blond in the 80s you drove a white, convertible Cabriolet…because you were cute and little. And ripping the sleeves off your shirt will make you HOT!

OK…now the drumroll, because this is where it gets real.

5. Dead Poet’s Society (1989) – sigh…Oh Captain, My Captain. When Todd stands on the desk at the end of the movie, you just knew you could Carpe Diem. Neil's dad couldn’t accept him as an actor and Neil couldn’t accept his future as a doctor. I think this may have been the first movie that I actually connected emotional pain with someone committing suicide. I think this is also the first movie when I realized that just because these boys seemingly had “everything”, they really didn’t. They were trying to fit into a box that they really had no desire to fit into. And thank God for Mr. Keating!! Being a Welton alum, he knew them better than they knew themselves. I could go on and on with the power and wonder of this movie, but the lesson is – Make Your Life Extraordinary! Seize the Day! Look at life a different way!

4. Say Anything (1989) –“ I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that.”

If there is one thing you can say about Lloyd Dobler, he knew what he wanted.  Granted most high school seniors will not, but the point is go after what you want. Whether it is Diane Court or kickboxing…live with passion.

I could go on and on with the genius of Lloyd, but I’ll finish with this as a follow up to knowing what you want to do when you are 18,” How many of them really know what they want, though? I mean, a lot of them think they have to know, right? But inside they don't really know, so... I don't know, but I know that I don't know.” I cried with relief that first time I heard that. And don't even get me started on the radio blaring Peter Gabriel in the rain.

The next 3 are all a tie. It is like asking me to pick a favorite child. I can’t. Don’t ask me to. If the building/VCR/cassette tape is on fire…I’m saving all 3 or dying with them.

3. Some Kind of Wonderful (1987) I wanted to be Watts when I grew up. I started wearing cut off shorts and wanted to see if I could pull off the tomboy haircut. I figured if there was a way for the tomboy to get the guy there was hope for me. Watts played the cool best friend, but her heart was JUST.SO.OUT.THERE! When she tells Amanda Jones, “You break his heart, I break your face”…I lifted a John Bender fist in the air. And Keith…oh Keith. I love that he has the balls to tell his dad that college is not his dream. And now that I’m a parent, I get it. You want better for your kids, but you need to let them go after their passions even when it doesn’t seem smart because you don’t want them to have regrets (or at least I don’t). There is such a small window when they can go for their dreams so let them. And Amanda Jones…oh the wisdom of Amanda. A girl from the same side of the tracks as Keith that has broken the ceiling only to find herself in a toxic and abusive relationship.  She starts out saying that she would rather be with someone for the wrong reason than alone for the right. Seriously? It just goes to show where so many girls self –esteem really is. So to make Hardy jealous, she decides to go out with Keith. Not because she likes him, but because he is there. Only Keith is in LOOOOOVEEE with Amanda Jones and HE CASHES OUT HIS COLLEGE FUND to take her on a date. And let me tell you this was a hell of a date!!! (especially for an L.A. girl) L’Ermitage then LACMA after hours followed by renting out the Hollywood Bowl? (swoon). And Keith (God love him!) tells Amanda that she looks good wearing his future (diamond earrings) and she realizes (after Watts has made it abundantly clear) that the earrings were really meant for Watts…and she also realizes (HUGE LESSON HERE) it is better to be alone for the right reasons than with someone for the wrong.  Only it sounds way cooler in the movie because she is Lea Thompson and has that cool look as she takes out the earrings and says, “I’d rather be right.”  And the ending…oh goodness..the BEST rendition of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” E.V.E.R. in the middle of the street with Keith and Watts.  

 

And Keith admitting he had no idea and Watts telling him she always knew he was stupid. Just watch it! And not to make light of this movie at all, the writing is genius. Seriously. The angst of Watts caring so much about Keith that she is willing to chauffeur his date with Amanda Jones.  Keith wanting so badly to prove that just because he works in a gas station, likes art and his best friend is a tomboy that he can still get the hot girl. Amanda Jones, wanting so badly to be something that she is not. Trying to find her identity in something other than where she lives.

 

2. Pretty In Pink (1986) – A similar theme only this time the best friend is Duckie and the girl from the wrong side of the tracks is Andie. She is pining for Blaine (with the amazing BMW 325i…right up there with the convertible Cabriolet as rad cars of the 80s) only Blaine’s best friend Steff isn’t having it.  I think Some Kind of Wonderful resonated with me for such different reasons even with a common plot thread. Pretty In Pink is about having strength and not letting people look down on your or judge you because you don’t hang out with the right people. It is about believing in yourself when no one else does.  The interesting thing with this movie is that the ending had to be reshot because everyone wanted her to end up with Blaine. The reality is, Blaine didn’t believe in Andie even a quarter of how much Duckie believed in Andie. To this day, Duckie is probably the most beloved character and I think we all secretly believe that Duckie and Andie got married someday.  In spite of all that, Andie never seemed to get down on herself.

She had a strength that I really don’t think I had encountered at that point in my life.  The idea of going to prom alone to make a point…that was HUGE…and of course she didn’t go alone…because Duckie was waiting for her at school to escort her in. And...fun fact OMD had to write "If You Leave" in 24 hours because the song they had planned for Andie and Duckie wouldn't work for Blaine and Andie.

  

1. Breakfast Club (1985) – Much like the first time I saw the “Take On Me” video, I don’t think I moved even after the credits rolled. Never before or since has there been a movie that so richly captured what high school was like. Maybe I should have said adolescence. Aside from the characters, who were so well developed in my opinion, the entire movie takes place inside that school. They briefly sneak out to go to the gym and run the halls, but really the movie takes place in the library. And the dialogue…oh my goodness. Every high school student needs to see this movie still. I recently read an article about how different The Breakfast Club would be today with technology, but in 1985 they had to talk. They had to share, They had to break down the stereotypes and hear each other’s stories. And every one of them had a story just like every one of us has a story. Each of them aware of who the others were prior to March 24, 1984 but never really speaking and each of them more aware after…and probably not speaking, but having a greater understanding that in adolescence we all wear masks and that underneath we really aren’t all that different. We get brainwashed into filling a role or fitting into a mold. Really, we are/were just trying to survive.

 

 

In the immortal words of Brian Johnson,

Dear Mr. Vernon,

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did WAS wrong, but we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us... In the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is ... a brain...and an athlete... and a basket case...a princess...and a criminal...Does that answer your question?

 Sincerely yours,

The Breakfast Club.

 

I know I left out 16 Candles, Ferris Bueller and Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Any others that you think need to make the list? If you think they need to be included,  you need to leave a compelling case in the comments section.

Who Do You Think You Are?

Because I had a special request that my blog not turn into a complete ode to the 80s (send complaints to mikefritch@yahoo.com) I will try to mix it up a bit…but I already wrote the next 80s post FYI.

As I was thinking through all the 80s love, I had the not so profound thought that it is a part of my identity which then led me to think more about identity in general. I often play the role of listener/counselor (which I enjoy) and so often a conversation will settle on one of two core issues. Control and identity. Whether it is a job, a relationship, marriage, parenting…our eating patterns, compulsions or addictions…it goes back to these two issues. And it crosses genders.

I have alluded to bits and pieces of growing up, and I’m sure I will share more over time.  I don’t have anything to hide and I’m definitely a work in progress (as we all are). Growing up life was crazy…not as crazy as some homes and much crazier than others. I don’t remember the first time I held a bat and ball, but I’ve heard enough of the story and seen the picture with the look of perfect peace and contentment on my face. I was eighteen months old.  (picture an adorable cherub face holding a big red plastic baseball bat) Fast forward through childhood, adolescence, and now adulthood.  In the midst of the uncertainty of just about everything, when I am holding a bat and ball, life makes sense. I know who I am. That isn’t to take anything away from knowing who I am as a child of God, but after many hours of counseling (no shame in having someone help sort out the spaghetti thinking), I finally have accepted that the two are not mutually exclusive. I’m 41 and when I have a bad day, I go outside and throw a softball against a net. The repetition and feel of the ball in my glove makes sense. On the real bad days, I have been known to go to a batting cage and take 30 minutes to work out my frustrations. For a very long time I didn’t know who I was outside of softball. It may sound absolutely crazy, but I could go from being a neurotic mess to calm and composed by simply stepping past the foul lines of a ball field. But if the ability to do that went away tomorrow, who would I be? A wife? A mom? A writer? All fine and good, but not the totality of who I am.

So, I’m curious or rather…I’d love to challenge you to think about your identity. Do you identify yourself by your job (or lack thereof)? Can a career stumble send you reeling because if you aren’t successful in work then you just aren’t successful period? Does not having a paying job because you are choosing to stay home while your kids are young make you feel like you are not as valuable or important as someone pulling down six figures? Do you identify yourself by how you parent? Or is the thought of parenting just too overwhelming and exhausting so you look to something that you can do well to avoid facing something that is just flat out hard and unpredictable? Do you define yourself by your relationships? Because relationships involve people and those get messy. It is much easier to not be confronted by our flaws and yet that is exactly what marriage and parenting does…exposes every rough and scratchy part that we would rather not deal with. Do we identify ourselves by our fandom to a team or the activities we participate in? Biking? Running? Scrapbooking? We all want to a part of something bigger than ourselves.

We all define ourselves. There is no harm in that.  It is how we define ourselves and if that definition is true that can be harmful.  We are more than our jobs, our marriages, our activities, our friendships and our teams. The question is do we believe that? Because the job can go away. So can the marriage and the kids will eventually grow up. Someday soon I won’t be able to still throw a ball or swing a bat. Friendships ebb and flow and my teams break my heart constantly. If my only definition of myself is in something that can change at the drop of a hat, then I will be living in perpetual insecurity.

So who are you outside of all these things? At a core level how do you identify yourself?

It's No Better To Be Safe Than Sorry

We all hate to be critiqued for how we parent. Until you have walked a mile in my shoes you/we/I should not judge. At the end of the day most of us will reap what we sow. (How many more idioms will appear in this post?) Therefore, we should sow wisely for good or for bad.

I recently was critiqued for my parenting. Rather than get defensive and hurt, I got defensive and went on the offense. There are certain things our children NEED to know. To send them into adolescence or adulthood not equipped with the tools to cope and survive would be like forgetting to wear shoes on a snowy day. I wouldn’t say I was outraged by the critique, but I would say I had a bit of righteous indignation that my parenting style was not being appreciated.

So here goes…I got in trouble last week by my 11 year old for making her stay up past her bedtime to watch 80s videos. It all started after an episode of The Goldbergs  (tell me you are watching this show?  You MUST be watching this show!) Somehow MTV came up and there was a blank stare. After 20 seconds of trying to explain I finally had to say…bear with me here, this is hard…the channel that My Super Sweet 16 is on. (barf) She doesn’t watch this show, but has heard of it and I WAS TRYING TO MAKE A PARENTING POINT! Sheesh! Anyhoo…I asked her if she knew what MTV stood for.  Blank stare. At this point I was realizing that when I was working on manners and personal accountability, I was neglecting her cultural upbringing.  MTV actually played music at one time.  Good music.  With videos.  And a good song became even better with a great video. There was no ON DEMAND, so we (80s kids unite!) would sit and wait for that favorite video. And then we would try to figure out the stupid VCR in time to record and pray to God that we weren’t recording over Days of Our Lives or the end of Family Ties. We would sit for hhoouurrss…and it was worth it. I learned patience, and character and love in those hours of waiting. I also learned how to hold my pee until commercial and run as fast as I could to make it back to the couch before Martha Quinn came back on….but I digress.

My child needed to know how life changing videos were.  Had I had more time I would have come up with a better strategy/order in which to teach her, but I panicked and started with Girls Just Want to Have Fun. Then I went to Borderline and Material Girl. (Don’t judge…I said I panicked.  At least I didn’t start with Debbie Gibson or Tiffany! And you are welcome for the links to some classics.) When she threatened to get up off the couch and leave the room I pulled out the big guns.  I told her what I was about to show her would change her life and that she could never fully appreciate it because as amazing as it still is in 2014 was freaking.mind.blowing in 1985. Y'all know where I'm going with this, don't you? I mean I still remember sitting on that scratchy brown burlap couch in our family room and not moving.

 

How did they do that? How could it be half real and half cartoon? How could that waitress just crumble up the comics so flippantly and not realized Morten was being chased by motorcycle cops? (I told you crazy thoughts run through this head) So back to my big guns…I did it.  I told her to sit her tushie right back down and to not roll her eyes at me. She did and let me just tell you….IT WORKED!!!!!!!!!   I mean she was still mad at me for making her stay up late and was still mad the next day.  She tried to get me to let her sleep in the next morning, but I wasn’t having that.  What is even better is that the next day I saw her sitting next to her sister on the couch and telling her she needed to show her something that would blow her mind. (exact words! )

Critiquing my parenting all you want, I put this one in the win column and can promise that my kid may eat will both elbows on the table still, but knows all the words to Take On Me. Next up 80s movies and John Hughes.  Maybe I will wait until she is 14 for that.

Note to self: When searching for pictures of a favorite childhood band, do the math and realize that pictures will show up of said band as middle aged men.  A-ha did not age well.

Follow up note: When looking for Tiffany videos on YouTube, you will be singing I Think We're Alone Now for the rest of the evening.

Did You Believe That I Loved You?

In the 48 years since I was first ambushed by Jesus, in a little chapel in the Allegheny Mountains of Western Pennsylvania, and in literally thousands of hours of prayers, meditation, silence and solitude over those years, I am now utterly convinced that on Judgment Day the Lord Jesus is going to ask each of us one question and only one question, 

“Did you believe that I loved you? That I desired you? That I waited for you day after day? That I longed to hear the sound of your voice?”

The real believers there will answer, “Yes, Jesus, I believed in your love and I tried to shape my life as a response to it.”

But many of us who are so faithful in our ministry, in our practice, in our churchgoing, are gonna have to reply, “Well frankly, no, sir. I mean I never really believed it. I mean I heard a lot of wonderful sermons and teachings about it. In fact, I gave quite a few myself. But I always thought that was just a way of speaking, a kindly lie, some Christian’s pious pat on the back to cheer me on.” And there’s the difference between the real believers and the nominal Christians that are found in our churches across the land. 

No one can measure like a believer the depth and the intensity of God’s love, but at the same time no one can measure like a believer the effectiveness of our gloom, pessimism, low self-esteem, self-hatred and despair that block God’s way to us. Do you see why it is so important to lay hold of this basic truth of our faith? Because you’re only going to be as big as your own concept of God.
 
Remember the famous line of the French philosopher, Blaise Pascal? “God made man in His own image, and man returned the compliment.” We often make God in our own image and he winds up to be as fussy, rude, narrow-minded, legalistic, judgmental, unforgiving, and unloving as we are. In the past couple three years I’ve preached the Gospel… (all over the world) … and honest to God, the God of so many Christians I meet is a God who is too small for me, because he is not the God of the Word, he is not the God revealed by and in Jesus Christ who this moment comes right to your seat and says, “I have a word for you. I know your whole life story. I know every skeleton in your closet. I know every moment of sin, shame, dishonesty and degraded love that has darkened your past. Right now, I know your shallow faith, your feeble prayer life, your inconsistent discipleship. And my word is this: I dare you to trust that I love you just as you are and not as you should be, because you’re never gonna be as you should be.”

From a sermon by Brennan Manning

 

Today may not be entirely original content, but it is rich and it is true and it is real. And everyday I have to ask myself what I really believe. Does He love me? Do I believe He is good? Do I trust Him? How could I not when He sees me entirely for who I am...ratty, beaten up and damaged - and still wants nothing more than for me to crawl into His lap and rest in Him.

Judy Blume

About five years back, I had a great idea-or so I thought-to start reading my favorite Judy Blume books again.  My oldest was six at the time and I had just checked Freckle Juice out of the library for her. While she didn’t know who Judy Blume was, I was salivating at the thought of sharing a gigantic part of my childhood with her. I couldn’t wait for her to meet Fudge and Peter Hatcher. I wondered if she would think Sheila was as great as I did. What would her favorite book be?  Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret?, Iggy’s House, Deenie, Blubber. How old would she have to be before I let her read Tiger Eye’s and Forever?  Would she devour everything Judy wrote just like I did? The answer….no.

She may or may not have finally finished Are You There God, but she is eleven and who wouldn’t want to read about all the mysteries of girlhood and how to increase their bust? I think the best part was when she asked me why the girls needed to use a belt for a maxi pad because maxi pads had stickers on them.

As much as it broke my heart that Judy Blume was lost on her, it did cause make allow me to devour these timeless treasures all over again.  And devour, I did. I think it took me just about two weeks, but I reread every.single.one….including the steamy grown up ones like Wifey, Summer Sisters and Smart Women. I guess my point in even revisiting this is, my daughter is in her first year of middle school. And life is beginning to get complicated. Not just for her, but for her peers as well. And as I begin to think about how awful and awkward these years are, I am grateful all over again for Judy. She was/is a friend who was able to put words to feelings and thoughts I thought were exclusive to me. She made me feel normal when my home life was anything but normal.

About the same time that I started rereading her books, I came across a book of essays titled Everything I Needed to Know About Being aGirl I Learned from Judy Blume. I don’t know why they didn’t ask me to contribute, but that is beside the point. The point is that it is true. I may not have caught the lessons the first time around, but the seeds were planted. I was bullied like Linda in Blubber, but I learned how to cope and that it was only a matter of time before the bullies would move on to a different target if I didn’t let them see me cry. I learned it wasn’t The End of The World when my parents sat me down to tell me their marriage was over. I learned that judging someone by skin color was lame in Iggy’s House. There were so many more lessons along the way, but just about every one could be traced back to an author in New Mexico New Jersey New York…wherever she was living at the time. Judy didn’t just touch my life. She touched countless kids lives in the late 70s and 80s…and as my second born started reading a few years back, I realized she is touching lives still. My nine year old has eight Judy Blume books on her shelf and keeps asking when she can get more. She still has to wait a few years for some of the more complicated ones, but the fact that she has fallen in love with Judy makes me love her just a little more than her older sister. Kidding. Not really.

Why?

It has been some time since I have posted and I blame over talented people with fancy blogs for that. But after some growing up…meaning I am making strides in not comparing myself…and some reminders about what enjoy, I’m writing. Oh...and it is NaBloPoMo.

As an introvert there are a lot of thoughts that get stuck in this head. It is time to unleash these beasts. “Why?” is a pretty frequent question for me.  It started sometime in my 20s or whenever it was that I realized that I was a “grown up” and that I needed to start thinking about how I wanted my life to look. There are certain areas –career/vocation-that I didn’t think through, but in terms of relationships-with the opposite sex, friends and now children, I have always asked myself why. Why do I feel certain ways about issues?  What is the root?  What caused me to feel that way? In the midst of endless conversations with people, I always want to understand why someone is anxious, open, pessimistic, optimistic. What events have made up someone’s life story?  As I have started to unpack (or better yet) reopen my mental boxes that have been in storage, I have been reminded of what events have shaped me for good or bad.  Asking why has proven valuable for me because I feel like experience has been my greatest teacher. It hasn’t had to be my experience, just experience in general.  When I see someone or something fail, I ask myself why. When I see someone or something that I admire, I ask myself why. When something doesn’t make sense, I ask myself why.  And at the end of the day…I’m reminded that I am not owed any answers.  In fact I am not owed anything.  That is not feeling sorry for myself, that is just my reality. Some may think it sounds morose. I think it sounds realistic. Life isn’t going to make sense most days. There will be senseless acts of violence. Children will get ill and die. Accidents will happen that will make us question God’s goodness. While my mind and heart may utter the word “why?”, I’m not given answers…only promises.

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. – Jeremiah 29:11

Trust in the Lord with all of your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make straight your paths. – Proverbs 3:5-6

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways," declares the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways And My thoughts than your thoughts. – Isaiah 55:8-9

Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
    How unsearchable his judgments,
    and his paths beyond tracing out!
 “Who has known the mind of the Lord?
    Or who has been his counselor?”
 “Who has ever given to God,
    that God should repay them?” –Romans 11-33-3

It is that last question that gets me every time…who has given to God that He should repay them? Certainly not me. But in the depths of His riches and wisdom, He gave this introvert words and so hopefully over the next month I can use this gift for good.