I've written before about today's topic, but it bears repeating - we have leaky reservoirs. I think I'll do a study about blessing others because, if I'm not mistaken, the verses that encourage, admonish or even command us to bless others speak of doing so out of the abundance of the blessings we have received. One can not acquire an abundance if he or she leaks!
It has been a concern of mine for a while that it seemed I was constantly feeling the need to focus on me - what I need. I was weary of being so needy, it was making me feel selfish. I was concerned that I was not loving others, giving to others, blessing others as God intended. It was during one of the times I felt this most keenly that it came to me about the "abundance", or some versions use the term, "over-flow". In conjunction with that concept, it was revealed to me that I leak. My cup constantly required refilling because while God was pouring in blessing, it was leaking out.
I believe that most, if not all, of us experience a leak or two that requires the healing touch of God and our participation in our own healing - cooperation. We all have wounds or have suffered some infraction that has left us insecure, doubtful, lacking in confidence and therefore, hesitant to reach out to others to one degree or another. It is not selfish to allow yourself to be healed and your leaks repaired. In fact, to do so opens you up to be a better servant - or if you prefer, a better child of God. Because, think about it, how can one not help but be loving, giving, gracious, forgiving, or a blessing to others when his or her cup is overflowing!
I am excited about the recent repair in my reservoir - or my cup! I don't know if I am completely leak-free, but I believe that the recent repair was on a major leak! Already I feel the excitement and anticipation building of what's next! Already I feel the desire building to give to others of what The Father has so lavishly given to me! My reservoir filling up to overflowing is already drowning my fear, reservation and hesitation to take a risk and reach out to others!
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Restored!
I typically go home for lunch everyday where my Daughter is typically home with her four children during the summer, one during the school year. Today, they were watching a cartoon where a dragon was guarding a red ring. The mission of the main character was to get passed the dragon and his snares, enter his lair, and retrieve the red ring.
When this was accomplished, the main character put on the ring and the lair transformed into a palace and the dragon transformed into a prince - who then told the adventurer that a spell had been put on him that transformed him into a dragon and he was forced to guard the red ring.
Immediately I thought about all that had transpired this past week - which I have chronicled in my blog - and how that story epitomized what really took place in my life. In my particular situation, the dragon represents me. The ring represents the curse - all that held me captive and kept me from living a full life. The main character, the adventurer in pursuit of the ring, represents Jesus - and whomever He chose to use as a vehicle, a tool, to reach the ultimate goal, to transform me back into who I was created to be and live according to how He created me to live. In His hands, the curse was transformed into blessing, setting me free from the voice in my head - her voice - that demoralized me for most of my life.
Isn't it fascinating... sad, but fascinating how we become the dragons in our lives who tenaciously guard that which holds us prisoners! Just look at how the events played out this past week. Even after I was convinced that God wanted me to go to Jean to bless her, I still experienced anger and guarded that which held me prisoner, resisting my rescuer... resisting my Savior, and my healing. Once the events played out, however, it all became clear to me how I was the one standing guard over my own prison!
I am awed by the love of Him who fought His way into my prison lair to bestow the blessing on me - robbing me of the red ring and restoring me. My life has come full circle so that I may learn to be a blessing for Him to others. He may choose to use me to help get passed some other dragon that he or she may be restored to what he or she was created to be and to live how he or she was created to live. Perhaps, even Jean.
When this was accomplished, the main character put on the ring and the lair transformed into a palace and the dragon transformed into a prince - who then told the adventurer that a spell had been put on him that transformed him into a dragon and he was forced to guard the red ring.
Immediately I thought about all that had transpired this past week - which I have chronicled in my blog - and how that story epitomized what really took place in my life. In my particular situation, the dragon represents me. The ring represents the curse - all that held me captive and kept me from living a full life. The main character, the adventurer in pursuit of the ring, represents Jesus - and whomever He chose to use as a vehicle, a tool, to reach the ultimate goal, to transform me back into who I was created to be and live according to how He created me to live. In His hands, the curse was transformed into blessing, setting me free from the voice in my head - her voice - that demoralized me for most of my life.
Isn't it fascinating... sad, but fascinating how we become the dragons in our lives who tenaciously guard that which holds us prisoners! Just look at how the events played out this past week. Even after I was convinced that God wanted me to go to Jean to bless her, I still experienced anger and guarded that which held me prisoner, resisting my rescuer... resisting my Savior, and my healing. Once the events played out, however, it all became clear to me how I was the one standing guard over my own prison!
I am awed by the love of Him who fought His way into my prison lair to bestow the blessing on me - robbing me of the red ring and restoring me. My life has come full circle so that I may learn to be a blessing for Him to others. He may choose to use me to help get passed some other dragon that he or she may be restored to what he or she was created to be and to live how he or she was created to live. Perhaps, even Jean.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Jean and Punkin
My Daughter and I went to see... Jean. She was sitting in her carport when we drove up. I almost didn't recognize her! I've never seen her so dark, her hair so a mess, her nails so un-manicured, her clothes so dirty. But as soon as she spoke, I recognized her voice. It had not changed in all these years.
My Daughter stayed in the car while I got out and walked up to her to determine if it was indeed her. Not knowing how to address, I decided to call her what I last called her over 30 years ago, "Mother".
She leaned forward and scowled at me and said, "What?"
I repeated my inquiry, "Mother?"
She said, "Mother! No. No, I'm no body's mother."
I asked if she recognized me and she said she did not. I asked if she knew who I was and she shook her head no and said that she did not.
We then focused on getting her dog to stop barking at me and I asked if it was Gretchen (she typically named her red females, Gretchen or Sugie and the black male dachshunds, Blackie or Junior). She said no, that her boy dog was Punkin. I looked at her and she at me. Then I said, "I'm JeNene" (long story, not for now). She asked who and I repeated the name. She repeated it after me and slowly I saw recognition come in her eyes. She remembered the name, but looked at me doubtfully as to whether I could be her. After eyeing me suspiciously, she rocked back in her chair and laughed saying, "JeNene! I was just talking about her yesterday to ol' Punkin, here, wasn't I boy. JeNene and ol'... ol'..." she snapped her fingers to help her memory, I offered, "Eddie."
"Yes! That's it, Eddie! I was telling ol' Punkin, here that I wonder what ever became of ol' JeNene and Eddie."
She kept apologizing for having no chair to offer me. I assured her that it was okay, I'd be fine without one. Then I approached her, put my arm around her stooped shoulders (I remember she used to always say, "Stand up straight, JeNene! Do you want people to think you're ignorant? Only ignorant people slump their shoulders.") and said, "I need to tell you that I am sorry that I have shut you out of my life for so long. I was wrong to do that."
She looked a little uncomfortable and said, "Yes. It has been a long time."
Then she told me about her dog, Punkin, again. I asked her if she wanted to meet my Daughter and returned to the car to invite her to get out. She and I stood around in Jean's carport for an hour hearing about Punkin, she bragged about how much money she had in the bank, and told the story of her carport being built several times during that hour. I'm not sure she was ever completely convinced that I was JeNene because when I referred to Grandpa, she seemed confused as to who I was talking about and finally asked me if I was talking about her Daddy.
She seemed very impressed with fountain drinks but doesn't seem to know that that's what they are called. Because when I asked her if she ever got out much she told me she pays her neighbor $20 to take her to town for groceries then they drive clear across town to a little place that serves the best drinks in a cup, 'yeah tall' (gesturing with her fingers the size of the cup) that has crushed ice, a lid and a straw - but with each item, struggled for what to call it. I say she seemed impressed with those because she told us about those drinks more than anything else she repeated in that hour.
On the ride home, my Daughter said that she felt it was a blessing that Jean doesn't seem to remember much - maybe it means she doesn't remember any of the bad stuff. And I'm okay with that. I don't need for her to know how much damage she did to me... I've forgiven her... and today, though I tried to bless her, I'm not sure I really did. I reminded her of the things I knew about her like her ballroom dancing, western dancing, expert marksmanship for shooting, etc. She seemed to blush like a little girl and giggled.
Before leaving I asked if she would allow me to write to her. She said she would like that. I think I would like that, too.
My Daughter stayed in the car while I got out and walked up to her to determine if it was indeed her. Not knowing how to address, I decided to call her what I last called her over 30 years ago, "Mother".
She leaned forward and scowled at me and said, "What?"
I repeated my inquiry, "Mother?"
She said, "Mother! No. No, I'm no body's mother."
I asked if she recognized me and she said she did not. I asked if she knew who I was and she shook her head no and said that she did not.
We then focused on getting her dog to stop barking at me and I asked if it was Gretchen (she typically named her red females, Gretchen or Sugie and the black male dachshunds, Blackie or Junior). She said no, that her boy dog was Punkin. I looked at her and she at me. Then I said, "I'm JeNene" (long story, not for now). She asked who and I repeated the name. She repeated it after me and slowly I saw recognition come in her eyes. She remembered the name, but looked at me doubtfully as to whether I could be her. After eyeing me suspiciously, she rocked back in her chair and laughed saying, "JeNene! I was just talking about her yesterday to ol' Punkin, here, wasn't I boy. JeNene and ol'... ol'..." she snapped her fingers to help her memory, I offered, "Eddie."
"Yes! That's it, Eddie! I was telling ol' Punkin, here that I wonder what ever became of ol' JeNene and Eddie."
She kept apologizing for having no chair to offer me. I assured her that it was okay, I'd be fine without one. Then I approached her, put my arm around her stooped shoulders (I remember she used to always say, "Stand up straight, JeNene! Do you want people to think you're ignorant? Only ignorant people slump their shoulders.") and said, "I need to tell you that I am sorry that I have shut you out of my life for so long. I was wrong to do that."
She looked a little uncomfortable and said, "Yes. It has been a long time."
Then she told me about her dog, Punkin, again. I asked her if she wanted to meet my Daughter and returned to the car to invite her to get out. She and I stood around in Jean's carport for an hour hearing about Punkin, she bragged about how much money she had in the bank, and told the story of her carport being built several times during that hour. I'm not sure she was ever completely convinced that I was JeNene because when I referred to Grandpa, she seemed confused as to who I was talking about and finally asked me if I was talking about her Daddy.
She seemed very impressed with fountain drinks but doesn't seem to know that that's what they are called. Because when I asked her if she ever got out much she told me she pays her neighbor $20 to take her to town for groceries then they drive clear across town to a little place that serves the best drinks in a cup, 'yeah tall' (gesturing with her fingers the size of the cup) that has crushed ice, a lid and a straw - but with each item, struggled for what to call it. I say she seemed impressed with those because she told us about those drinks more than anything else she repeated in that hour.
On the ride home, my Daughter said that she felt it was a blessing that Jean doesn't seem to remember much - maybe it means she doesn't remember any of the bad stuff. And I'm okay with that. I don't need for her to know how much damage she did to me... I've forgiven her... and today, though I tried to bless her, I'm not sure I really did. I reminded her of the things I knew about her like her ballroom dancing, western dancing, expert marksmanship for shooting, etc. She seemed to blush like a little girl and giggled.
Before leaving I asked if she would allow me to write to her. She said she would like that. I think I would like that, too.
Hopefully Today...
Hopefully today will be the blessing. It is my plan to go to her house today, this afternoon. It is my plan to offer her the blessing - no strings attached. It is my plan to only bless her. It will not be a time for confrontation, for accusation, or to criticize. It will be a time for her to be blessed. It is my hope and my prayer that she may find some peace because of the blessing. It is my hope and prayer that I stay solely focused on her and blessing her - nothing more, nothing less.
My Daughter wants to accompany me. I will take her but she will remain outside to give us time to be alone together for this occasion. Hopefully, it will go well and I can ask her to come in to meet the grandmother she's never met. It's about an hour drive, one way, and VBS starts tonight, so I will have to keep an eye on the clock. I hope we have enough time. I also have ironing to do that I promised would be ready to deliver Monday - I forgot to do it yesterday. Still, I don't want to put this off if I can keep from it. So, hopefully, today is the day I will bless the woman who raised me for 8 years.
My Daughter wants to accompany me. I will take her but she will remain outside to give us time to be alone together for this occasion. Hopefully, it will go well and I can ask her to come in to meet the grandmother she's never met. It's about an hour drive, one way, and VBS starts tonight, so I will have to keep an eye on the clock. I hope we have enough time. I also have ironing to do that I promised would be ready to deliver Monday - I forgot to do it yesterday. Still, I don't want to put this off if I can keep from it. So, hopefully, today is the day I will bless the woman who raised me for 8 years.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Surfacing Memories
At the onset, let me just say, you need to read this one to the end because there's something you need to know that I will withhold until the end of this post. Before I get to that, I had another memory surface this morning... it's not a good one but I'm going to share it anyway, and then I'll tell you why.
I don't remember what age I was other than to say, I was quite young. I think I must have been between 6 and 7 years old... it's possible I could have been 5, but I think I was at least 6.
Ed and Norma Jean (Ed was Norma Jean's husband... yes, that would make him my... dad... as much as it made Norma Jean my... mother) took a trip to Englewood, CO for two events - Ed, being an electronics engineer with so much intelligence that I with my buckets of ignorance would never be able to 'shake a stick at' was very into building and flying model airplanes. He was also in the Air Force. The first event was an all day affair pertaining to his model airplanes, therefore it was outdoors. I had to stay in the car so I would not get, 'dark as a nigger' along with her four precious dogs. After spending all day in the car, I got to wait in the car with the dogs again while Ed and Norma Jean joined someone from his job to attend the stock car races. The time eventually came that I really needed to relieve myself. The dogs, when made to wait too long simply went in the floor board of the back of the car. I felt resentful of their freedom to do so and not get in trouble for it. After a time, I did as the dogs, hoping that she would not be able to tell it was me and blame it on the dogs. It couldn't have been 10 minutes later that she showed up to take me to a gas station so I could use the restroom. She pulled up to a pump and sent me to the ladies room only to burst in minutes later, yelling hysterically about what I had done. She asked if I had done it and I admitted to it. She left and returned with an umbrella, still yelling hysterically. She began beating me with the umbrella, not stopping even when it broke into pieces with sharp metal rods poking out every direction. The gas station attendant burst in telling her that he had called the police. She drug me by my hair and threw me in the car and sped back to the races parking lot.
I don't remember how Ed was on the scene, I mean I don't remember if he was there waiting or if she went after him, but he was there. She told him what I had done and sounded as though she would hyperventilate.
He managed to get her calmed and they were preparing to return to their seats at the races when Norma Jean put her face to the partially opened window, glaring and growling at me, "If you know what's good for you, you will not be here when I get back".
I layed in the back seat and cried for a while. I slept. When I awoke my heart began beating hard, fearing I'd waited too long. I listened to the sounds from the loud speakers and the race cars. I decided that if I was going to leave, I'd better do it soon so I would not be there when she got back. I rolled the windows up more so that I could not get my hand in to unlock the doors once I'd locked myself out of the car, but leaving them open enough so the dogs could get air. Then I walked away.
I had no idea where to go, what to do. I decided to head for the highway, I could see an overpass from the parking lot. It was dark and cars were whizzing by. There were houses along the highway and I decided that I was very hungry and should probably find food before getting up on the highway. I picked a nice looking house and knocked on the door. A grandmotherly looking woman answered and I requested some cookies. She looked around and asked where I'd come from. I told her that I was traveling. She invited me in and sat me on the counter, producing a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. She left me with my snack but returned shortly to keep me talking and offering more cookies while she waited for the police to arrive. Every time I said I needed to get started she would find another way to delay me.
When the police arrived, they questioned me and after hearing my story decided to take me back to the parking lot to locate the car. I was able to take them right to the car, but they could not reopen the doors because I had rolled the windows almost all the way up. One went in and paged for Ed and Norma Jean, but it turned out that the speaker in their area was out and they never heard the page. Therefore, they had to pick me up at the police station.
Once at the station, I was questioned again. As I considered what to say I remembered Norma Jean's strict rule of no lying, so I answered all of their questions honestly. When Ed and Norma Jean arrived, they were questioned together, then separately. I was surprised when Norma Jean seemed to get hysterical with them and even more surprised when it seemed to me that she got her way. I was able to determine that they were discussing sending me somewhere else to live and Norma Jean was against it. We rode home in a very heavy silence.
The next morning, I begged Ed to take me to work with him. He told me that he didn't want to be in my shoes and that he could not take me to work with him. When he returned home that evening he checked in on me. He looked at my two black eyes, my swollen face and body covered in bruises, the dried blood on my scalp from having my hair yanked out by the handfuls and said, "I told you it was going to be a rough day for you." and left my room. She had stayed drunk and passed out most of the day. I said most of the day. Every time she woke up the beatings would start again until she exhausted herself - meaning she couldn't swing her arm any more and told me that if she died of a heart attack, I would go to prison for her murder. Then she would drink herself back to sleep again. I was kept in my room until all my bruises had healed. It took 2 days for me to work up the courage to knock on my door and request permission to use the bathroom. I scooped handfuls of water from the toilet bowl to drink having learned from a previous experience that she checked the bathroom sink and tub for moisture and the towels for dampness in case I used them to dry the sink or tub after getting myself a drink. I don't know how many days passed before she decided I would be allowed to eat again.
Such memories fed my resentment and anger towards her for most of my life... until yesterday. This memory hurts, I would be lying if I said it didn't cause me pain. But I do not feel the resentment and anger along with that pain as I felt before yesterday. God has put something new in my heart. I wonder about her life. What did she endure growing up that molded her into who and what she was? What pain did she carry? What was she hiding deep inside? And is it possible that she seeks relief from that old monster and perhaps, if I am able to bless her, she will finally be free of it?
I don't want to have grandiose expectations of our next encounter. I don't want it to sound as though I am trying to set myself up as her savior. She has a Savior and it's not me! And I must confess to you that it is such a relief to be free of the anger and resentment! The pain, I can live with, the anger and resentment was heavy to bear! Pain is not always a bad thing. Gary Smalley and John Trent stated that C.S. Lewis observed that the only safe place to be free of the pain love can bring is in hell. The memory this many years after such an event is not physically painful. The memory is painful because I loved her and wanted her to love me. But I can forgive her because I recognize that she must have been a tormented woman. Being around 85 now, she must know she is nearing the end of her life. Memories of what ever was done to her, if not healed, most likely still plague her... and possibly memories of what she has done to others most likely burden her.
God is not lacking in compassion regarding my feelings about such memories. He did not request this of me 20 years ago when I first embarked on my journey of healing. He's worked on me and in me to heal me for 20 years before asking me. If this seems very fast to you, from the first posting on this issue until today's, believe me, it has not been fast and easy. Twenty years is a long time to work on one project. He asks me now, because He knows I'm ready now. What you witnessed in my previous postings was Him working to convince me that I am ready. If I'd had the eyes to see, I might have seen this coming when I posted about the white car! But as my wise Daughter told me, if I had seen it coming then, I might have missed the healing I was meant to experience then. I didn't see it coming and I did heal more, as He intended. It is an honor to be asked to be a part of her healing - even if I don't get to witness the results or if the results appear negative. I am just now seeing the results of what He's been doing in my heart for 20 years! How amazing is He! Now, after 20 years of healing, He invites me to return to those old memories with Him... safe by His side, together we walk through so that He may complete what He started in me 20 years ago!
I don't remember what age I was other than to say, I was quite young. I think I must have been between 6 and 7 years old... it's possible I could have been 5, but I think I was at least 6.
Ed and Norma Jean (Ed was Norma Jean's husband... yes, that would make him my... dad... as much as it made Norma Jean my... mother) took a trip to Englewood, CO for two events - Ed, being an electronics engineer with so much intelligence that I with my buckets of ignorance would never be able to 'shake a stick at' was very into building and flying model airplanes. He was also in the Air Force. The first event was an all day affair pertaining to his model airplanes, therefore it was outdoors. I had to stay in the car so I would not get, 'dark as a nigger' along with her four precious dogs. After spending all day in the car, I got to wait in the car with the dogs again while Ed and Norma Jean joined someone from his job to attend the stock car races. The time eventually came that I really needed to relieve myself. The dogs, when made to wait too long simply went in the floor board of the back of the car. I felt resentful of their freedom to do so and not get in trouble for it. After a time, I did as the dogs, hoping that she would not be able to tell it was me and blame it on the dogs. It couldn't have been 10 minutes later that she showed up to take me to a gas station so I could use the restroom. She pulled up to a pump and sent me to the ladies room only to burst in minutes later, yelling hysterically about what I had done. She asked if I had done it and I admitted to it. She left and returned with an umbrella, still yelling hysterically. She began beating me with the umbrella, not stopping even when it broke into pieces with sharp metal rods poking out every direction. The gas station attendant burst in telling her that he had called the police. She drug me by my hair and threw me in the car and sped back to the races parking lot.
I don't remember how Ed was on the scene, I mean I don't remember if he was there waiting or if she went after him, but he was there. She told him what I had done and sounded as though she would hyperventilate.
He managed to get her calmed and they were preparing to return to their seats at the races when Norma Jean put her face to the partially opened window, glaring and growling at me, "If you know what's good for you, you will not be here when I get back".
I layed in the back seat and cried for a while. I slept. When I awoke my heart began beating hard, fearing I'd waited too long. I listened to the sounds from the loud speakers and the race cars. I decided that if I was going to leave, I'd better do it soon so I would not be there when she got back. I rolled the windows up more so that I could not get my hand in to unlock the doors once I'd locked myself out of the car, but leaving them open enough so the dogs could get air. Then I walked away.
I had no idea where to go, what to do. I decided to head for the highway, I could see an overpass from the parking lot. It was dark and cars were whizzing by. There were houses along the highway and I decided that I was very hungry and should probably find food before getting up on the highway. I picked a nice looking house and knocked on the door. A grandmotherly looking woman answered and I requested some cookies. She looked around and asked where I'd come from. I told her that I was traveling. She invited me in and sat me on the counter, producing a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. She left me with my snack but returned shortly to keep me talking and offering more cookies while she waited for the police to arrive. Every time I said I needed to get started she would find another way to delay me.
When the police arrived, they questioned me and after hearing my story decided to take me back to the parking lot to locate the car. I was able to take them right to the car, but they could not reopen the doors because I had rolled the windows almost all the way up. One went in and paged for Ed and Norma Jean, but it turned out that the speaker in their area was out and they never heard the page. Therefore, they had to pick me up at the police station.
Once at the station, I was questioned again. As I considered what to say I remembered Norma Jean's strict rule of no lying, so I answered all of their questions honestly. When Ed and Norma Jean arrived, they were questioned together, then separately. I was surprised when Norma Jean seemed to get hysterical with them and even more surprised when it seemed to me that she got her way. I was able to determine that they were discussing sending me somewhere else to live and Norma Jean was against it. We rode home in a very heavy silence.
The next morning, I begged Ed to take me to work with him. He told me that he didn't want to be in my shoes and that he could not take me to work with him. When he returned home that evening he checked in on me. He looked at my two black eyes, my swollen face and body covered in bruises, the dried blood on my scalp from having my hair yanked out by the handfuls and said, "I told you it was going to be a rough day for you." and left my room. She had stayed drunk and passed out most of the day. I said most of the day. Every time she woke up the beatings would start again until she exhausted herself - meaning she couldn't swing her arm any more and told me that if she died of a heart attack, I would go to prison for her murder. Then she would drink herself back to sleep again. I was kept in my room until all my bruises had healed. It took 2 days for me to work up the courage to knock on my door and request permission to use the bathroom. I scooped handfuls of water from the toilet bowl to drink having learned from a previous experience that she checked the bathroom sink and tub for moisture and the towels for dampness in case I used them to dry the sink or tub after getting myself a drink. I don't know how many days passed before she decided I would be allowed to eat again.
Such memories fed my resentment and anger towards her for most of my life... until yesterday. This memory hurts, I would be lying if I said it didn't cause me pain. But I do not feel the resentment and anger along with that pain as I felt before yesterday. God has put something new in my heart. I wonder about her life. What did she endure growing up that molded her into who and what she was? What pain did she carry? What was she hiding deep inside? And is it possible that she seeks relief from that old monster and perhaps, if I am able to bless her, she will finally be free of it?
I don't want to have grandiose expectations of our next encounter. I don't want it to sound as though I am trying to set myself up as her savior. She has a Savior and it's not me! And I must confess to you that it is such a relief to be free of the anger and resentment! The pain, I can live with, the anger and resentment was heavy to bear! Pain is not always a bad thing. Gary Smalley and John Trent stated that C.S. Lewis observed that the only safe place to be free of the pain love can bring is in hell. The memory this many years after such an event is not physically painful. The memory is painful because I loved her and wanted her to love me. But I can forgive her because I recognize that she must have been a tormented woman. Being around 85 now, she must know she is nearing the end of her life. Memories of what ever was done to her, if not healed, most likely still plague her... and possibly memories of what she has done to others most likely burden her.
God is not lacking in compassion regarding my feelings about such memories. He did not request this of me 20 years ago when I first embarked on my journey of healing. He's worked on me and in me to heal me for 20 years before asking me. If this seems very fast to you, from the first posting on this issue until today's, believe me, it has not been fast and easy. Twenty years is a long time to work on one project. He asks me now, because He knows I'm ready now. What you witnessed in my previous postings was Him working to convince me that I am ready. If I'd had the eyes to see, I might have seen this coming when I posted about the white car! But as my wise Daughter told me, if I had seen it coming then, I might have missed the healing I was meant to experience then. I didn't see it coming and I did heal more, as He intended. It is an honor to be asked to be a part of her healing - even if I don't get to witness the results or if the results appear negative. I am just now seeing the results of what He's been doing in my heart for 20 years! How amazing is He! Now, after 20 years of healing, He invites me to return to those old memories with Him... safe by His side, together we walk through so that He may complete what He started in me 20 years ago!
Another Step
Well, after yesterday's emotionally intense tossing of the waves, I was surprised to crawl in bed last night with a new attitude... a fresh new perspective. I praised and thanked The Father for His great love... awed and amazed at, who am I that He should love me so much? I know that giving His Son, His One and Only Son to die for me is beyond marvelous. Not to sound selfish or to devalue that demonstration of such amazing love in any way, that was not just for me but for the whole world. By that, I know I am loved... but the feel is, from a distance. My question for years was, but did He know me? Did He care about me?
I may have mentioned him in an earlier post, but Dr. Timothy Young in the Dallas area was the catalyst on my long journey to healing. Four one-hour sessions with him equipped me with the necessary tools to continue that journey, not alone, but with The Father! With the help of the Holy Spirit I have come such a very long way and you have just witnessed yet another major step on this amazing journey of mine! I went to bed two nights ago truly believing that I did not love, need or want Norma Jean in my life and awoke the next day struggling with the fact that I do love her. I went to bed last night with the desire to do as The Spirit urges my heart to bless her! This is very personal. This is for me, this blessing of being a blessing to someone - and being called to be so by a truly loving, compassionate, generous, gracious, merciful and personal Father!
I do not know how all of this will play out. But I know in my heart that I must do as He moves me in my heart to do - somehow, I must be a blessing to her. Not to go to her to make her realize, admit or even acknowledge what she did to me, but to go to her to truly bless her. At this point, I have no clue how I will go about it, I only know it needs to be done and that The Spirit has filled me with the desire to do it.
How can I look at all of this and not see how deeply He cares for me! He sees me! He knows me! I am not just a single unit in a giant mass of humanity. I am known and loved... cherished by The Father Who sends His Spirit to remold me to be all that He intended for me when He purposed my birth into Christ!
What an amazing God Who loves us!
I may have mentioned him in an earlier post, but Dr. Timothy Young in the Dallas area was the catalyst on my long journey to healing. Four one-hour sessions with him equipped me with the necessary tools to continue that journey, not alone, but with The Father! With the help of the Holy Spirit I have come such a very long way and you have just witnessed yet another major step on this amazing journey of mine! I went to bed two nights ago truly believing that I did not love, need or want Norma Jean in my life and awoke the next day struggling with the fact that I do love her. I went to bed last night with the desire to do as The Spirit urges my heart to bless her! This is very personal. This is for me, this blessing of being a blessing to someone - and being called to be so by a truly loving, compassionate, generous, gracious, merciful and personal Father!
I do not know how all of this will play out. But I know in my heart that I must do as He moves me in my heart to do - somehow, I must be a blessing to her. Not to go to her to make her realize, admit or even acknowledge what she did to me, but to go to her to truly bless her. At this point, I have no clue how I will go about it, I only know it needs to be done and that The Spirit has filled me with the desire to do it.
How can I look at all of this and not see how deeply He cares for me! He sees me! He knows me! I am not just a single unit in a giant mass of humanity. I am known and loved... cherished by The Father Who sends His Spirit to remold me to be all that He intended for me when He purposed my birth into Christ!
What an amazing God Who loves us!
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Still Muddling...
I left you hanging in my previous post, partly because I was hanging. I also didn't want to take away from the feeling left from the memory of my favorite Christmas with Norma Jean. It was the first time in more years than I can remember that I have admitted to loving her. As I shared that with my Son-in-law during lunch, again my eyes welled with emotion.
In a flash, that sense of longing was replaced by resentment, anger, frustration over the pain that that woman caused me. Memories of fear, confusion, humiliation, and physical pain resurfaced. Then a vivid memory of me as a trembling little girl, standing before her answering her question as to why I was shaking, "I'm afraid of you." and then hearing her laugh and proclaim, "Good! You're supposed to be afraid of me!" and my anger felt completely justified. My sandwich seemed to lodge in my throat which suddenly seemed two sizes too small.
I have a very small memory that gives me little clue as to when the event occurred, but it lives and resurfaces as though it has full right - an embrace. I suspect the embrace took place sometime after I was an adult because of what I said. She was wearing a red corduroy house robe with 3/4 length sleeves. I laid my head on her shoulder as we embraced and turned my nose into her robe, inhaling deeply. I said, "I recognize you!" She seemed surprised by this proclamation and a little amused, which made me realize I had said it aloud. Feeling the need to explain I said, "Your smell. I recognize that smell from when I was a little girl. You always smelled like that."
Sometime later while shopping for cosmetics, I stumbled across the smell again. Turned out she wore Revlon Face Powder. Does it proclaim an unspoken longing that I now wear Revlon Face Powder? Now, every morning as I put on my make up, I smell that familiar aroma and while I may not allow it consciously, I remember her and have a part of her always with me. Why? Gary Smalley and John Trent would say it is because, even though I am 54 years old, I still long to receive The Blessing from her.
The Blessing, according the Gary Smalley and John Trent, consists of five essential elements:
Before I leave off to go read more of the book and pray about this... about the possibility of contacting her again, I must also tell you about some other thoughts that have been intermingled with the ones I have shared. I have been this route many times before, all ending in failure. This is the first time I have entertained the notion of trying again, this time with the knowledge that He will never leave me nor will He forsake me. I may feel as though I'm bobbing around in tossing waves - but this is the first time in those waves while wearing a life preserver! Emotions are high and intense, but I feel safe, secure, loved all the same.
In a flash, that sense of longing was replaced by resentment, anger, frustration over the pain that that woman caused me. Memories of fear, confusion, humiliation, and physical pain resurfaced. Then a vivid memory of me as a trembling little girl, standing before her answering her question as to why I was shaking, "I'm afraid of you." and then hearing her laugh and proclaim, "Good! You're supposed to be afraid of me!" and my anger felt completely justified. My sandwich seemed to lodge in my throat which suddenly seemed two sizes too small.
I have a very small memory that gives me little clue as to when the event occurred, but it lives and resurfaces as though it has full right - an embrace. I suspect the embrace took place sometime after I was an adult because of what I said. She was wearing a red corduroy house robe with 3/4 length sleeves. I laid my head on her shoulder as we embraced and turned my nose into her robe, inhaling deeply. I said, "I recognize you!" She seemed surprised by this proclamation and a little amused, which made me realize I had said it aloud. Feeling the need to explain I said, "Your smell. I recognize that smell from when I was a little girl. You always smelled like that."
Sometime later while shopping for cosmetics, I stumbled across the smell again. Turned out she wore Revlon Face Powder. Does it proclaim an unspoken longing that I now wear Revlon Face Powder? Now, every morning as I put on my make up, I smell that familiar aroma and while I may not allow it consciously, I remember her and have a part of her always with me. Why? Gary Smalley and John Trent would say it is because, even though I am 54 years old, I still long to receive The Blessing from her.
The Blessing, according the Gary Smalley and John Trent, consists of five essential elements:
- Meaningful Touch
- Spoken Message
- Highly Valuing the intended recipient
- Providing a word picture of a positive future for the intended recipient
- Commitment to the intended recipient to follow through, assuring he or she receives the blessing
Before I leave off to go read more of the book and pray about this... about the possibility of contacting her again, I must also tell you about some other thoughts that have been intermingled with the ones I have shared. I have been this route many times before, all ending in failure. This is the first time I have entertained the notion of trying again, this time with the knowledge that He will never leave me nor will He forsake me. I may feel as though I'm bobbing around in tossing waves - but this is the first time in those waves while wearing a life preserver! Emotions are high and intense, but I feel safe, secure, loved all the same.
NJ and the Blessing...
I honestly don't know where to begin with this post. Typically, when I write a post, it's almost completely written in my mind before I ever begin typing. I feel compelled to write, the need to write. And, of course, I know the topic... but it's all muddled in my mind.
As I've posted previously, I am currently reading, "The Gift of The Blessing" by Gary Smalley and John Trent, PH.D. Last night, I finished chapter 11 and began chapter 12. The opening of chapter 11 contains, "...At seminars, we have heard countless stories of men and women who went back to a father or mother who hadn't blessed them. They gave that parent the blessing, and saw their life radically transformed. Many were 'deathbed' conversions, where in the last days, weeks, or months of their life, parents not only turned around and gave their children the blessing, but also asked forgiveness from them, and sought salvation from Christ." In the margin, along side this excerpt I wrote, "Oh Lord, Please don't be talking about NJ. Are You talking about NJ?"
"NJ" stands for "Norma Jean", the name of the woman who raised me for 8 years - from the age of 4 to the age of 12, at which point I entered into the state system and was passed from one foster home to the next until at the age of 16 I was sent to live in a church sponsored children's home. I began referring to her as "Norma Jean" as a way of seeking revenge on her - she hated the name, "Norma" and went by "Jean". Over the years, "Norma Jean" was shortened to "NJ"... further disrespecting her, devaluing her, diminishing her to just a set of initials.
There are a select few in my life who are aware of many of the things I suffered at the hands and whims of this woman, primarily family (I found my biological family in the '80's and a couple of my sisters know as well as my ex-husband and grown children) and a few friends. I had someone to go to when something would trigger a memory and I had to cope with another "haunting" of my past. Their response was very compassionate, tender and understanding towards me and they joined me in my 'rebellion' against her. I would not have to explain the meaning of "NJ" to any of them.
After reading chapter 11, I went in shock to my Daughter and her husband - but more to my Daughter. We discussed, at length, my response to my sense that God wants me to bless this woman. It was agreed that I should not react in haste but pray about this revelation. Perhaps my response was the natural response common to anyone reading the book and since both of my biological parents have long since died, the only parental figure I have would be... her. But, what if it truly was a message to me to go to her? I felt confident and secure as I assured my Daughter that I no longer felt the need for a blessing from her. I no longer felt the need to hear her ask for forgiveness. I no longer felt the need to have her approval or acceptance of any part of me or my life. As I went to bed last night, I truly believed those statements to be 100% accurate. I fell asleep praying. I awoke with the feeling of troubled dreams and immediately resumed praying.
As I was preparing for work, different scenarios went through my mind of a potential reunion with this woman - none of which, could I picture with a positive outcome. But something else continued going through my mind this morning as well... memories. Some from my childhood, some from the attempts I made as an adult to have a good relationship with her. The sum of those scenarios and memories concluded with me entertaining the notion that perhaps... somewhere hidden deep inside me, I do want resolution with her. The tears in my eyes as I confess that possibility indicate that the conclusion is accurate.
Today, the onslaught of emotions flow through me. During the pause you were unaware of between the last paragraph and this one, I felt anger. I asked myself, "Why would you want a relationship with a woman guilty of the things she did to you?!" more of an accusation than a question. Earlier this morning the questions were, "What if it could be true, what if it could happen?" Last night my Daughter posed the question, "What if God has been working on her heart as well as on yours?"
I told my Daughter, again because I've told her this before, why I celebrate Christmas the way I do. It's because of... her. Despite all the negative, horrific, things she did that continued to cause me pain way into my adult years, her redeeming quality to me was the way she kept Christmas! She made Christmas wonderful, magical. Christmas meant love to me as I grew up with her. She was an amazing cook and always prepared the traditional feast with all the trimmings and then some. She decorated every room in the house. Our only 'disagreement' over Christmas was her choice of Christmas trees. I wanted a live, traditionally decorated tree. Her favorite tree that she put up year after year was aluminum with blue bulbs, under which she put a color wheel which slowly rotated and turned the tree from yellow to green to blue to red. I would wait for the green to illuminate the tree green and delighted in imagining a traditionally decorated live tree.
My favorite Christmas was one of many we celebrated in Colorado. It was already dark out and she came to my room to tell me to put on my boots. My first struggle was trying to decide whether that meant to fully dress or simply to throw on my robe and put on my boots. Knowing I had to make a quick decision and hoping it would be the right one, I fully dressed then put on my boots. A shiver of fear and concern washed over me, wondering what may be coming. When I walked into the living room, she had on her overcoat and boots and was standing by the front door. She urged me to come along and out we stepped into the cold but glistening night. Without another word we walked down the steps, out the walk and into the street. My heart was beating hard as the questions and concerns flooded my mind. Was she going to take me out somewhere to leave me alone in the night? Was she angry? Was she drunk? Did I do something to make her mad? After we'd walked passed a few houses she did sound angry, "If you're not going to look at the houses we can go back right now!" It seemed as though they appeared at the sound of her words, I truly had not noticed before, but the houses were beautifully decorated with colorful Christmas lights. It felt as though my whole body filled with joy and delight - perhaps because I wasn't in trouble, perhaps because of the Christmas decorations and she wanted to share them with me. But we walked along admiring the decorations, the glistening of the snow and the crunch that it made under our warmly, booted feet. I was so filled to overflowing with love, joy and delight that I overcame my fear to reach over and take her hand. She accepted my hand, looked down at me and smiled and then turned her attention back to the beautiful lights. I think I watched her more than I looked at the lights. We even spied the sky for a sneak glimpse of Rudolph as a plane passed so high overhead, though I strained, I could not hear evidence of it being a plane and she was able to convince me that it truly was the light of Rudolph's nose! Her smile was beautiful, warm, radiant and in that moment, I loved her more than anyone else on earth!
As I've posted previously, I am currently reading, "The Gift of The Blessing" by Gary Smalley and John Trent, PH.D. Last night, I finished chapter 11 and began chapter 12. The opening of chapter 11 contains, "...At seminars, we have heard countless stories of men and women who went back to a father or mother who hadn't blessed them. They gave that parent the blessing, and saw their life radically transformed. Many were 'deathbed' conversions, where in the last days, weeks, or months of their life, parents not only turned around and gave their children the blessing, but also asked forgiveness from them, and sought salvation from Christ." In the margin, along side this excerpt I wrote, "Oh Lord, Please don't be talking about NJ. Are You talking about NJ?"
"NJ" stands for "Norma Jean", the name of the woman who raised me for 8 years - from the age of 4 to the age of 12, at which point I entered into the state system and was passed from one foster home to the next until at the age of 16 I was sent to live in a church sponsored children's home. I began referring to her as "Norma Jean" as a way of seeking revenge on her - she hated the name, "Norma" and went by "Jean". Over the years, "Norma Jean" was shortened to "NJ"... further disrespecting her, devaluing her, diminishing her to just a set of initials.
There are a select few in my life who are aware of many of the things I suffered at the hands and whims of this woman, primarily family (I found my biological family in the '80's and a couple of my sisters know as well as my ex-husband and grown children) and a few friends. I had someone to go to when something would trigger a memory and I had to cope with another "haunting" of my past. Their response was very compassionate, tender and understanding towards me and they joined me in my 'rebellion' against her. I would not have to explain the meaning of "NJ" to any of them.
After reading chapter 11, I went in shock to my Daughter and her husband - but more to my Daughter. We discussed, at length, my response to my sense that God wants me to bless this woman. It was agreed that I should not react in haste but pray about this revelation. Perhaps my response was the natural response common to anyone reading the book and since both of my biological parents have long since died, the only parental figure I have would be... her. But, what if it truly was a message to me to go to her? I felt confident and secure as I assured my Daughter that I no longer felt the need for a blessing from her. I no longer felt the need to hear her ask for forgiveness. I no longer felt the need to have her approval or acceptance of any part of me or my life. As I went to bed last night, I truly believed those statements to be 100% accurate. I fell asleep praying. I awoke with the feeling of troubled dreams and immediately resumed praying.
As I was preparing for work, different scenarios went through my mind of a potential reunion with this woman - none of which, could I picture with a positive outcome. But something else continued going through my mind this morning as well... memories. Some from my childhood, some from the attempts I made as an adult to have a good relationship with her. The sum of those scenarios and memories concluded with me entertaining the notion that perhaps... somewhere hidden deep inside me, I do want resolution with her. The tears in my eyes as I confess that possibility indicate that the conclusion is accurate.
Today, the onslaught of emotions flow through me. During the pause you were unaware of between the last paragraph and this one, I felt anger. I asked myself, "Why would you want a relationship with a woman guilty of the things she did to you?!" more of an accusation than a question. Earlier this morning the questions were, "What if it could be true, what if it could happen?" Last night my Daughter posed the question, "What if God has been working on her heart as well as on yours?"
I told my Daughter, again because I've told her this before, why I celebrate Christmas the way I do. It's because of... her. Despite all the negative, horrific, things she did that continued to cause me pain way into my adult years, her redeeming quality to me was the way she kept Christmas! She made Christmas wonderful, magical. Christmas meant love to me as I grew up with her. She was an amazing cook and always prepared the traditional feast with all the trimmings and then some. She decorated every room in the house. Our only 'disagreement' over Christmas was her choice of Christmas trees. I wanted a live, traditionally decorated tree. Her favorite tree that she put up year after year was aluminum with blue bulbs, under which she put a color wheel which slowly rotated and turned the tree from yellow to green to blue to red. I would wait for the green to illuminate the tree green and delighted in imagining a traditionally decorated live tree.
My favorite Christmas was one of many we celebrated in Colorado. It was already dark out and she came to my room to tell me to put on my boots. My first struggle was trying to decide whether that meant to fully dress or simply to throw on my robe and put on my boots. Knowing I had to make a quick decision and hoping it would be the right one, I fully dressed then put on my boots. A shiver of fear and concern washed over me, wondering what may be coming. When I walked into the living room, she had on her overcoat and boots and was standing by the front door. She urged me to come along and out we stepped into the cold but glistening night. Without another word we walked down the steps, out the walk and into the street. My heart was beating hard as the questions and concerns flooded my mind. Was she going to take me out somewhere to leave me alone in the night? Was she angry? Was she drunk? Did I do something to make her mad? After we'd walked passed a few houses she did sound angry, "If you're not going to look at the houses we can go back right now!" It seemed as though they appeared at the sound of her words, I truly had not noticed before, but the houses were beautifully decorated with colorful Christmas lights. It felt as though my whole body filled with joy and delight - perhaps because I wasn't in trouble, perhaps because of the Christmas decorations and she wanted to share them with me. But we walked along admiring the decorations, the glistening of the snow and the crunch that it made under our warmly, booted feet. I was so filled to overflowing with love, joy and delight that I overcame my fear to reach over and take her hand. She accepted my hand, looked down at me and smiled and then turned her attention back to the beautiful lights. I think I watched her more than I looked at the lights. We even spied the sky for a sneak glimpse of Rudolph as a plane passed so high overhead, though I strained, I could not hear evidence of it being a plane and she was able to convince me that it truly was the light of Rudolph's nose! Her smile was beautiful, warm, radiant and in that moment, I loved her more than anyone else on earth!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
The Impact
As I stated in my previous post, I am currently reading, "The Gift of The Blessing" by Gary Smalley & John Trent, PH.D. I believe I was in the 8th chapter at that time. Due to the 4th of July holiday, I have only made it half way into the 9th chapter as of today.
I have recognized snippets of my childhood throughout the pages of this book. To be honest, I have secretly been commending myself for the long way I have come from the broken-spirit desperately in search of, "The Blessing" to where I am today. I have silently uttered words of praise that The Father has healed me so much that I have not felt twinges of pain for myself as I have read - only for my children, due to my mistakes, primarily while they were young.
Then today... chapter 9. I was not prepared for my response as I read the words that described the home-type that withheld "The Blessing". A home known, I suppose to those in the field of counseling, as ACA homes - Adult Children of Alcoholics. I was not unfamiliar with the term - I had been told I was from an ACA home as far back as in the '80's. The way, however, the two authors chose to describe such a home invoked a very unexpected response - physical response as I recognized myself as a product of such a home. My heart felt squeezed almost beyond bearing. My eyes welled up uncontrollably. The fear and confusion that children of such homes feel flitted through my being that was a very physical experience as I continued to force myself to read on. The authors described such children as living with the emotional experience of a point soldier moving through a mine-field. The emotional experience I relived as I read those words had quite an impact. I eventually had to stop reading to allow myself to recompose to some extent.
The impact that the section had on me does not nullify the reality that I have experienced a lot of healing through the grace and compassion, the mercy and love of The Father. I sense a jewel coming from looking back at all of this... or rather from having all of this flung upon me unexpectedly through the reading of this book. I sense that I will realize and recognize even more how great have been the blessings of healing that I have already received. I sense that even more healing is being bestowed even now.
So while initially I momentarily reeled from the impact of recognizing my childhood in a home that not only withheld "The Blessing" but bestowed curses, the experience didn't send me plummeting to a place in my past where I was unaware of my value, my worth, or the fact that I am loved... I sense that the impact of what I read in chapter 9 of this book is leading me to a new, grand impact... a deeper sense of awareness of how much I am valued, how much I am loved by The Father! A deeper impact of His continual flow of blessings for me and His continual healing He bestows on me even today.
I have recognized snippets of my childhood throughout the pages of this book. To be honest, I have secretly been commending myself for the long way I have come from the broken-spirit desperately in search of, "The Blessing" to where I am today. I have silently uttered words of praise that The Father has healed me so much that I have not felt twinges of pain for myself as I have read - only for my children, due to my mistakes, primarily while they were young.
Then today... chapter 9. I was not prepared for my response as I read the words that described the home-type that withheld "The Blessing". A home known, I suppose to those in the field of counseling, as ACA homes - Adult Children of Alcoholics. I was not unfamiliar with the term - I had been told I was from an ACA home as far back as in the '80's. The way, however, the two authors chose to describe such a home invoked a very unexpected response - physical response as I recognized myself as a product of such a home. My heart felt squeezed almost beyond bearing. My eyes welled up uncontrollably. The fear and confusion that children of such homes feel flitted through my being that was a very physical experience as I continued to force myself to read on. The authors described such children as living with the emotional experience of a point soldier moving through a mine-field. The emotional experience I relived as I read those words had quite an impact. I eventually had to stop reading to allow myself to recompose to some extent.
The impact that the section had on me does not nullify the reality that I have experienced a lot of healing through the grace and compassion, the mercy and love of The Father. I sense a jewel coming from looking back at all of this... or rather from having all of this flung upon me unexpectedly through the reading of this book. I sense that I will realize and recognize even more how great have been the blessings of healing that I have already received. I sense that even more healing is being bestowed even now.
So while initially I momentarily reeled from the impact of recognizing my childhood in a home that not only withheld "The Blessing" but bestowed curses, the experience didn't send me plummeting to a place in my past where I was unaware of my value, my worth, or the fact that I am loved... I sense that the impact of what I read in chapter 9 of this book is leading me to a new, grand impact... a deeper sense of awareness of how much I am valued, how much I am loved by The Father! A deeper impact of His continual flow of blessings for me and His continual healing He bestows on me even today.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Wish I'd Known
I am currently reading a book, "The Gift of The Blessing" by Gary Smalley & John Trent, PH.D., I'm mid-way through chapter 8. I had to stop reading to allow time to absorb and to think and pray about some things that I've read thus far.
For some reason, the movie, "Sleepless in Seattle" popped into my mind - the scene in which the 8-year-old boy was crying out in the night, prompting his father to dash up the stairs to his side to learn that the boy had had a bad dream and then confessed that he was beginning to forget his mother (who had recently died).
I recall watching that movie for the first time and when the scene just described, played I held my breath, waiting... waiting for something that never came. It is my first conscious memory as an adult, learning one of many things I wish I'd known.
I wish, while raising my own children, that I had known that children do not deliberately attempt to offend or even annoy their parents. Instead of lecturing his son for his confession, the dad in the role began telling the boy things about his mother. He demonstrated compassion, tenderness, understanding, and patience, among other things. With much regret and pain in my heart, I remember instances with my own children - most particularly with my Daughter, missing out on the opportunity to demonstrate such things. In their stead was a lecture that ultimately chastised them for showing weakness.
I suppose I shouldn't allow past mistakes to weigh me down. It's just that, definitely my Daughter could have had a much better life had I known some things that I didn't learn until after my own were grown, or nearly grown. By the time I learned some things about myself, about my childhood, about God's love for me despite the darkness in my past, my children were in high school and we lived apart.
I can look at the lives of each of my children and see the damage of being raised without the blessing and being raised by parents who were also raised without the blessing - and my heart aches for them, knowing that I contributed to putting that struggle there for them to go through. There's so many things I wish I'd known.
For some reason, the movie, "Sleepless in Seattle" popped into my mind - the scene in which the 8-year-old boy was crying out in the night, prompting his father to dash up the stairs to his side to learn that the boy had had a bad dream and then confessed that he was beginning to forget his mother (who had recently died).
I recall watching that movie for the first time and when the scene just described, played I held my breath, waiting... waiting for something that never came. It is my first conscious memory as an adult, learning one of many things I wish I'd known.
I wish, while raising my own children, that I had known that children do not deliberately attempt to offend or even annoy their parents. Instead of lecturing his son for his confession, the dad in the role began telling the boy things about his mother. He demonstrated compassion, tenderness, understanding, and patience, among other things. With much regret and pain in my heart, I remember instances with my own children - most particularly with my Daughter, missing out on the opportunity to demonstrate such things. In their stead was a lecture that ultimately chastised them for showing weakness.
I suppose I shouldn't allow past mistakes to weigh me down. It's just that, definitely my Daughter could have had a much better life had I known some things that I didn't learn until after my own were grown, or nearly grown. By the time I learned some things about myself, about my childhood, about God's love for me despite the darkness in my past, my children were in high school and we lived apart.
I can look at the lives of each of my children and see the damage of being raised without the blessing and being raised by parents who were also raised without the blessing - and my heart aches for them, knowing that I contributed to putting that struggle there for them to go through. There's so many things I wish I'd known.
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