Doing What is Right

  "Who will harm you if you are eager to do what is right? But even if you suffer for doing what is right, how happy you are! Do not be afraid of anyone, and do not worry." 1 Peter 3:13-14

  A blizzard rolled in yesterday and dumped ten inches of the white stuff. There are areas around here that were much harder hit. My thoughts and prayers go out to them as they work to clear driveways, as the snowplows work double time to clear the roads.

  It was enough to warrant getting the snowblower out. It wasn't happy. The motor started squealing, the thrower blades wouldn't turn. I left it to warm up a bit and eventually it did what snowblowers do. I was able to chew through the deep snow on the driveway.

  The snowplow went past some time in the night. Like always, they toss heavy, and compacted snow across the end of the driveway. It wasn't enough to stop my friend from getting out but it needed to be cleared. It's mild and if it freezes, it makes things a whole lot worse should more snow come. A highly likely event. Winter isn't over yet.

  The snowblower squealed like it did yesterday only this time it didn't start operating like it should at all. When smoke started coming from the engine and my nose detected the unmistakable odor of burning chemicals, I shut her down. (Forgive my language, Lord.)

  Thankfully, we have a decent snow shovel. As the shovel scraped and tossed snow, it gave me time to ponder the blower situation, about what might be the problem.

  By no means am I a mechanic but God is good. I realized I hadn't checked the oil lately. Let's just say there was barely enough oil in it to stop the engine from seizing completely. After topping it up, restarting it and letting it run for a bit, I tentatively pressed the gear handle. One squeak and she ran smoothly.

  It could have been so much worse! Had the engine seized, the blower would have been nothing more than scrap metal. The odds of finding a new one this late in the season are practically nil. The shovel and I would have gotten to know one another very well. 

  Lesson learned. Check the oil. Regularly. It's the right thing to do.

  I've come to realize something, though, my life has been governed by a command I feel doesn't come from God. All I need to do is look at the fruit it has produced.

  DO THE RIGHT THING has been twisted into a snare.

  But...there is also another side to this. Doing the right thing is also one of my core values. Hmmm...that's interesting. 

  However, when doing the right thing was an exercise of free will and choice, it was a punishable offence. Even when I did as I was asked (or told) because this, too, was the right thing to do it was never done right. Or worse, what was right changed daily. It's a vicious tactic of gaslighting that I am working to overcome. Do the right thing was doing anything and everything that was asked of me regardless of the personal cost.

  But, if this is a core value, the damage is far deeper because it is an assault on the fabric of my being.

  

  I hear Cricket playing in the yard. She is laughing and running and enjoying the outdoors. Thirst drives her into the kitchen with tousled hair sticking to her face. Maybe we had been called in for lunch. She had a joyful heart from the fun she's had.

  But I'd done the wrong thing in playing, in having fun. I lost the bobby pins that were meant to keep my hair neat and tidy. The smile, the joy...simply being a child was the wrong thing to do because it was CARELESS.

  In that moment, doing the right thing was blanketed by fear.

  Lord, I forgive the one who said, "You are so careless!" because the truth of the matter is I care deeply. It is a gift from You. I might even say it is a treasure to guard.

 In a final ah-hah! moment I finally understand that boundaries are a right thing to do after all.

  Smile...I think the Lord just added oil to my engine! 

  I want to embrace this core value because it is a good thing. But how do I know what is truly right? 

  Trust the Lord and seek His guidance first. AMEN!

  

  

  

    

Total Eclipse

   "What I (Jesus) tell you in the darkness, shout abroad when daybreak comes. What I whisper in your ear, shout from the housetops for all to hear!" Matthew 10:27

  A song came on the radio at work and I was instantly transported to a place and time that passed long ago. It's a memory absent of trauma or hurt but it is one that comes to the forefront of my consciousness regularly. I don't know why I remember it but there is something about it that needs exploring.

  It happened in my late teens while at a party on a rural property. It was long before I knew the Lord. The music was loud, conversations were loud, bolstered by free flowing beer. The bonfire crackled, wafting smoke and sparks into the night sky. 

  How is it, sometimes, when being in a crowd is the loneliest of times?  I decided to stretch my legs and get away from the noise for a bit. I walked to the edge of the property just as the song from yesterday started playing.

  And this is what I saw:

  A freshly turned field stretched into the horizon, glistening, the only way a heavy dew can glisten under a full moon. The mathematically precise mounds and shadows laid down by a plough drew the eye to the other side of the field. A farm house and farm buildings complete with silos became the focal point of the field's perspective. It was generic sight made special by a few gold lit windows in the house and a yard light that bathed it in a golden glow. The few trees around it were black silhouettes against the bright, night sky.

  At my feet, where turned earth met the field boundary, a chaotic swirl of bent and crushed grass became a kaleidoscope of shadow and sparkle and silver. In the midst of this, a wooden toolbox lay on its side, discarded and forgotten. It was a long, slender box with carefully formed sides that extended up. A wooden dowel the size of a broom handle had been worked to fit across the top, It was the kind of box that would bear the weight of many tools. The worn and smooth solidity of it was at odds with the ethereal, transient quality of the surrounding grasses. 

  Pat Benetar's "Total Eclipse of the Heart" played on. My soul connected with the lyrics in a way that some songs can make you do. In the deep aloneness of being, I hungered for something more. I believed in something more: a Something greater than I. I just didn't know their name.

  As I sang the lyrics in my mind, they became transformed into a prayer, a cry to this wonderful, life giving Something who made a moment lit by a full moon unforgettable.

  The man I was dating at the time came over to get me, to bring me back to the party. I tried to share how much the view had touched my heart, wanting him to see it like I had. He was more interested in getting another beer, in being in the midst of the noise and chaos. 

  I reluctantly turned away from a place I could have stood in forever.

  Over the next two decades, I carried the longing and the unshakeable belief in a great Something. It would rise up from a forgotten corner of my heart when I was enthralled by the aloneness of being. 

  Until I learned His name. Now, in the priceless, magical, beautiful moments of being, I am not alone any more. And I remember this place, not with a questioning heart but with the understanding that in that moment at the side of an unknown farmer's field, faith was born.

  

  

  

Re-start

 "In His kindness God called you to share in His eternal glory by means of Christ Jesus. So after you have suffered a little while, He will restore, support and strengthen you, and He will place you on a firm foundation. All power to Him forever! Amen." 1 Peter 5:10-11

  First of all, I wish to express my gratitude for you, dear readers. Blogger tracks the number of times one of you visits. I am deeply honored by the sheer volume of people who have read these words. It is such an encouragement because it means none of us are alone in the trials we face. Praise God!

  I started writing more of a lecture piece on the difference between co-dependency and trauma bonding but there is already so much good teaching out there it didn't make sense to re-invent the wheel. It was something I needed to try and wrap my head around because the term co-dependent had been used a few times lately. Most specifically in connection with familial ties.

 It didn't sit well with me because I didn't understand what it meant.

 Most of the time, I have been using Youtube because there are some good teachers who keep things simple. Some of the psychology websites can get a bit too technical. I am a visual and auditory learner so the information gathered sticks with me better.

  Dr. Ramani, amongst others, have created a wealth of videos on the subject. She is the one who brought up trauma bonding. 

  The lightbulbs went off in a blaze of brilliance. While there are many similarities between the two, co-dependency can exist where there is no abuse. Trauma bonding is the direct result of being in an abusive relationship. 

  It has helped me understand what amounts to a primal response of making myself small. By primal I mean it's an automatic and instinctive pattern of behaviour that bi-passes mental and emotional logic. It's what I thought I needed to do to be loved. It's what I was trained to do to be loved.

 And being loved was simply the absence of disapproval or condemnation or criticism. 

  And as the years of disapproval, condemnation and criticisms pile up, no matter how small I made myself, I learned I wasn't loveable at all. In fact, I was disposable and of no value whatsoever. 

  But that's when You stepped in, my Lord, and rescued me from being so small I was invisible. Thank You for that.

  The hardest thing about living large is waiting to be punished for having the audacity to do so. 

  But what is living large? Is it something as simple as making an independent decision?

  For me, it is. It's hard to break free of lessons that are so ingrained they are hard wired into the mental and emotional psyche. So are the responses and patterns of behavior.

  But it doesn't have to stay that way, does it? 

  I don't want to keep on second guessing every single decision I make. It's exhausting. And paralyzing because rather than face the onslaught of second guessing, I do nothing at all. But here's the thing, deciding to do nothing is still a decision. And the cycle of knotted stomach, worry, guilt, and shame doesn't go away. In fact, it only grows because the only way to break free is to actually make another decision!

  Oh, Lord, what a mess.

  I think I need to learn how to trust myself despite the years of betrayal. Yes, betrayal of self because in being small, I cannot be true to who God made me to be. 

  And that, my friends, is a whole other blog.

  May God bless you in your journey.

Patterns

   "O Sovereign Lord! You made the heavens and earth by Your strong hand and powerful arm. Nothing is too hard for you! You show unfailing love to thousands, but You also bring the consequences of one generation's sin upon the next." Jeremiah 32:17-18

  I have been reluctant to write, to my own detriment, because of who has been reading my blog. 

   I've been in hiding, buried in an all consuming busy-ness of building miniatures that shuts out the world, my heart and my thoughts and my friends. It's a dark place of silence and fear yet at the same time, is safe because it's familiar. This disconnection with life has been a place of survival when life was really hard. And as much as what I am doing is enjoyable, this isn't living. It's an existence that consumes the hours, the days and the weeks and months without me even being aware of the passage of time. 

  But God is good. So I am going to start writing again because I learned something very important about myself today. I am not a very good at thinking about things. Venues outside of my own mind are absolutely necessary to work things through; to put words to the overwhelming, swirling silence that exists between my ears. Therefore, writing is critical to my well being. It's where there is all the time in the world to find the words I need to say.

  It is my prayer life after all. And life without prayer is a hollow existence because unless I give my words to God, I cannot know truth and freedom.

  I stopped writing because my mom read my blog. Several years ago, she commented that what I wrote was upsetting to her. My response was, "Don't read it then." But I guess it's been difficult coping with my silence so she wanted to know what is going on in my life. She called to let me know she had, and how upset she was about everything. That's why I stopped writing.

  In doing so, I made myself small. May God forgive me.

  There was a long pause after writing those last two sentences. 

  It needs to be unpacked...I need to understand better what causes the smallness to take over. It happens so quickly. Lord, help me here...

  The smallness moves in the moment I feel I've done something wrong. And having been wrong so often (even when I wasn't, really) it becomes anticipatory and therefore paralyzing. So decisions are deferred, tasks are left undone, and words are silenced before they even form. 

  Just in case, it's better to stay small rather than have someone else put me back there. 

  There's one thing wrong with this. Actually, more than one don't you think?

  Maybe I need to look at boundary setting as a crucial step in keeping the smallness out of my life. 

  Wow...Those are freeing words...Most of the time boundary setting is portrayed as being assertive by stating your needs. It is beyond my ability to be assertive. But, I can fight. God knows I can fight against this internal enemy. I just needed to know who my enemy is. It is called smallness.

 

  Lord, thank You for today. Thank You for bringing me back to words. 

  

   

  

  

  

The G Word

   "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles." 1 Corinthians 1:3-4

G-God

R-Reigns

I-In

E-Every

F-Feeling

  This acronym was created during Sunday's service as tears rolled down my face yet again. I couldn't tell you what the teaching was about except it was the Advent week celebrating Joy. 

  Joy seems really far away...at least, today it does. But that's part of the healing journey, isn't it? 

  So, what does the acronym really mean? Lord? You inspired it. Help me understand, please.

  Feelings are fine. God made us this way. Since we were created in His image, God has them, too.  He has felt or experienced everything humanity has.  

  Feelings in and of themselves are not evil. Perhaps some of them are unpleasant. But there are others that aren't. At least I hope so.

  But what happens when good feelings end up twisted and deformed by events that sucked the joy, love, and happiness out of you? What happens when this happens over and over again and you are afraid to feel the good feelings because of the price you had to pay? Because of the punishment you endured for feeling something that was good and holy and pure?

  You end up afraid to feel the good feelings. That's what happens. And when they show up, they are wrapped in a blanket of dread because good feelings are a punishable offense. And if those who mete out the punishments have done their job well, you stop feeling the good feelings before they even show the tiniest spark. You run from them in terror.

  It's an awful way to live, isn't it? 

  Yes, it was...

  I just don't know how to break free from the deeply ingrained patterns of response whenever I feel the least glimmer of something good and pure and holy. 

  So maybe I need to stop punishing myself for being happy or content or laughing. That's another habit formed at the hands of narcissistic abuse.

  

  It takes time to break old habits but the first step is being aware. Instead of being afraid, I will give thanks to God for the beautiful, often fleeting moments of joy or delight or contentment the moment they happen! Because God Reigns In Every Feeling.

AMEN!

  

  

Part Two

     "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to HIs purpose." Romans 8:28

  It doesn't take much to get all twisted up in balls of yarn or barbed wire. The difficult part, for me, has been finding something positive, something good in it all. It's easy to loose sight of the light when darkness pushes you into the deep waters of despair. But, God is good. 

  That's why I have done a second picture. It's based on the first but this time, the woman in the middle has her head up. She, I, am no longer completely surrounded by darkness. The stars represent the gifts, the blessings, the good things that have come out of otherwise harmful relationships.

  

  Because there is always something good. Always. Even when it doesn't feel like there is or has been.

  So today I am going to shift my focus and look up, look forward, look towards the stars that bear life.

  I've been mulling over the idea of joy and have come to recognize something. The precious moments when joy filled my heart as a child, a youth, a teen, and a woman have most often come in times of solitude; in the being still moments when there were no outside influences to tear peace apart.

  Listening to the whisper of pines, watching a kite fly in a breathlessly blue sky, watching the sunlight make a river sparkle...seeing a hummingbird moth or a butterfly...fat snowflakes...storm clouds caressed by the evening sun's last burst of colour...

  Beauty brings joy and if I look hard enough, there is beauty everywhere. And perhaps, to ease the pain of all the ugly, the Lord opened my eyes to the good. I also realize, and may have mentioned it before, that the trauma induced hyper-vigilance has also been used to cement memories of beauty onto the synapses of my brain.

  There are a lot of stars in the picture so the list could become quite extensive. 

  My friend just commented about being asked if she could go back in time and do things differently, what would she change? She has responded to the questioner that she wouldn't be who she was. She wouldn't have her children and countless other blessings. In spite of her own barb wire life, she wouldn't change a thing.

  Our lives are also the result of the generations before us and the choices made long before we were even born. Their choices led to other choices...and brokenness...which formed the brokenness in which we were raised.

  But, I have a redeeming God. I have a God of grace and forgiveness. I am able to forgive the generations before me who both lived and wove barb wire lives. 

  

  It wasn't all my fault after all.

  It's time to stop wearing the ugly, unsuitable, hand-me-downs of brokenness.

  

  This drawing is also the second to last page in my sketchbook. The last page is rather tattered and torn. Unusable, really. 

  It's a good ending, don't you think?

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

        

Finding Joy

   "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope." Romans 15:13

  Joy. It's a concept that keeps coming to the forefront of interactions with others. This has been going on for a few weeks now. It is something my friends wish I could have. I know there are praying people interceding because right now, joy is far from my heart. Or is it? Is it as far away as I think?

   Lord? I know You are trying to show me something...teach me something. Help me see Your way in this because I am tripping over a three letter word that, to be honest, is terrifying.

  A very specific memory has also been brought to mind many times over the past month. In the grand scheme of things, it is such a little thing...

  It happened in middle school, a terribly awkward time of life. It's when the final verdict on your peer group was cemented and would follow you into high school. You know, the cool kids, the jocks, the nerds and the losers.

  There was a girl, one of the cool kids. She was tall, beautiful, smart and confident. I admit to being rather intimidated by her and, perhaps, a little jealous. I have no idea how I ended up walking home from school with her. It was unusual for someone like her to associate with the likes of me...somewhere between nerd and loser.

  When she invited me into her home I thought maybe, just maybe, this might mean things could be different. If she was my friend...For a brief and beautiful moment, I started to dream, to hope...

  She invited me into her bedroom after giving me a tour of the house. She showed me her makeup, jewelry, the posters on her wall and other things that are important to a pre-teen girl. It was all new to me.

  She opened a small pot of lotion, inviting me to smell the fragrance. Reluctantly, and under pressure from her, I put my nose up to it. She quickly shoved the jar into my nostrils, filling them with an overpowering, inescapable smell of sickly, chemical flowers.

  Stunned, I looked at her with tears in my eyes. She laughingly handed me a tissue.

 The tears weren't from the smell or clogged nostrils but she didn't know that.

  I didn't stay any longer but raced to the door to get my stuff and leave. She might have apologized once she realized just how upset I was but I couldn't hear it. I couldn't accept it. I just had to get away from her.

  So much for silly, girlish dreams.

  

  It was the same old story. People pretend to be your friend but only want to hurt you or want something from you regardless of the pain it might cause. And in my naivete I kept on hoping each time would be different. 

  But it never was. 

  Sitting here now, I can smell the lotion and feel the feels of a young girl's heart that broke a little more that day. Such a little thing. A prank of opportunity that happened a lifetime ago but it was just one more nail in the coffin containing the goodness of dreams, joy and hope.

  Denise, I can forgive you now. You didn't know the echoes of what you chose to do would haunt me for the rest of my life. You couldn't have known how broken I was already by the ways of the world and the monsters in the closet. You couldn't have known this black circle day was interwoven with a thousand others. You didn't know you were laying yet another strand of barbed wire. 

  And maybe I can be thankful she didn't know all this. That perhaps, she was spared such pain.

 I have never told a soul about that day. The shame was too great. Shame for being so gullible. Shame for even thinking my lot in life could be different. Shame for daring to believe it might be...

  I was so lost...blown about by the winds of despair and unutterable loneliness..

  But You found me, didn't You?

  Thank You, dear Lord, for bringing me peace today. The sharing has brought closure. 

  There's joy in being free to offer forgiveness no matter how long it takes. There's joy in being able to celebrate another's life; in being thankful for your own no matter how hard it's been. There's joy in the revelation of truth. There's joy in sitting here and offering it all up to the Lord.

  It's not the kind of joy that jumps and claps its hands, laughing. It's a joy that sits quietly on the soul, mind and heart, whispering terms of endearment and encouragement. 

  It is so beautiful...this joy that takes the labour of pain to bring it into being.