Love and Closets

I'm sitting in my new house, in my new office, overlooking my back yard.  My office also serves as a walk-in closet.  So my clothes and belts are eyeballing me as I write.

I had some of my besties over to celebrate my arrival in my new home.  These women, aside from God and my family, propelled me to this place with their love and support.

I suspect it wasn't always easy to be my friend.  I had a lot of chaos in my life after Mike and I separated.  I went through stages where I was afraid to be a momma and shirked my responsibilities, I went through needing to be a momma so I could feel OK, and finally to where I am now....loving each role I've been given with equal fervor. 

I have been processing how Jesus wants me to live my life.  I sometimes feel the familiar condemnation of how I live creep up on me and I start being disappointed in myself and slightly depressed.  This is not a great feeling.  It means all the sticky notes I have posted to remind myself that I have value are thrown in the trash and replaced with the old affirmations that I generally suck as a person.  So that option is not beneficial.  Instead, I am viewing myself as I view my kids.

Jesus gave us rules and guidelines to abide by because He knew it would lead to us being the most excellent version of ourselves.  Not to inhibit us or to cause shame, but simply to propel us to greater living.  He knows that I am a better person when I spend quality time with my kids.  He knows that I am the fullest version of myself when I work out and stay out of bars.  He knows that I am the enhanced Rebekah when I date cautiously and choose my close friends wisely.  He knows that eating junk food puts a damper on my best self.  He knows that respecting myself is beneficial to my soul and surrounding myself with people who value me increases my joy.

He just knows me.

In my youth and ignorance, I assumed His rules were simply to keep me tied up and imprisoned.  I assumed He didn't want good things for me.  I assumed He gave me impossible guidelines for living because He wanted me to feel badly about myself.  He wasn't the picture of love and acceptance in my head but more a picture of disappointment and shame.  How very wrong I was.

When I give my boys rules to follow, I make sure they are aware it is because I love them and want what's best for them.  They don't get it.  They grunt and sulk and sit on the other side of the room full of anger.

I get this response because I have lived most of my life this way.

What ends up happening is that we ascribe characteristics to God that are not at all who He is.  We make Him into a crotchety old nun who is appalled and disgusted by our behavior and ready with the measuring stick to smack us on our hands when we mess up.  And we mess up.  Often.  The result is shame, distrust and red, stinging hands.

How infuriated this picture must make Him.

I worry incessantly about the damage the divorce has done to my boys.  I blame myself for much of their faults.  I worry about their feelings of safety and stability. 

But the truth is, their stability comes from knowing they are LOVED.  LOVE never fails.  LOVE won't give up on them.  LOVE will comfort them and keep them.  LOVE is the answer to all their questions and doubts.  LOVE will be there when momma isn't.

I had a period of doubting my ability to provide stability for my boys.  I was intent on finding someone to help me...a roommate, boyfriend, friend.  Anyone.  I was desperate and scared.

And here I sit...all grown up in my closet and my new house.  And full of LOVE.

LOVE never fails me.

One Screwed up Momma

I have been told more than I care to embrace that I am screwed up.  Usually from people who are upset with something I've done or said.  They make this statement and then proceed to give me reasons why this is true.  I try to tune them out, but I'm too curious for that so I end up hearing every word they say.  Sometimes they are right.  Sometimes they are wrong.  I always regret listening.

What I have decided is that their assessment of me doesn't matter unless I value their opinion.  And this is a tricky plank to walk.

In the past, I have allowed all sorts of input from all sorts of people into my life.  I listened to bartenders, new employees, acquaintances, random business people, ex-boyfriends, ex-in-laws, ex-friends, clients...and the list goes on.  I allowed their assumptions of my life to shape some of my decisions.  I allowed their assumptions to shape who I was becoming.

I threw my pearls before swine and expected to get them back.  Instead, I walked away empty handed and poorer than I was.

This past week I had two people tell me about myself.  And honestly, I don't know whether it was kind or not because once I realized the point of the text I stopped reading it.  I knew I couldn't afford to hear their opinions of me, and knowing myself I would be unnecessarily upset over someone whose opinion doesn't matter.

I heard a teacher say recently, "Why are you minding my business?" to two little people who were listening in on a conversation they were not a part of.  I chuckled out loud and decided I would adopt that saying.

I catch myself minding others' business as well.  I want to give them opinions on how they should live their life, or handle their kids...what they should say in response to a situation or what job they should go for.  I have all sorts of opinions about everything and everyone.  But I also know I am not them...I do not think like they do.  I do not have the same experiences.  I don't know their families well or their backgrounds.  I don't know their strengths, their weaknesses, their fears.  All I know is some shallow information that happened to come into my view.  If I were to give them an opinion, that's exactly what it would be....shallow.

But there are a few whose words do matter.  I trust them implicitly.  I know they love me unconditionally.  They know me.  I know them.  I respect them.  They respect me.  We have time and history to affirm the strength of our relationship.  We have mutually earned the role of opinion giver.

The tricky part is knowing when to guard the treasure of your intimate life and when to share it.

I'm not great at this.  I put myself out there too much.  I invite opinions because of this.  But I'm finding as God and I work on my self-esteem, I'm able to hone this trait.

Because I am indeed screwed up.

I change my mind.  I say one thing and do another because I changed my mind and forgot to fill you in on this new development.  I share too much.  I keep an overly tidy house and am not thrilled with people messing it up.  I nag my children.  I'm often late because I think clocks lie.  I'm hard to please as a boss.  I can't hang if it's late.  I'm a terrible nurse.  I have very little empathy in my body for illness.  I'm too generous when I can't afford to be and sometimes this means I can't pay a bill.

I have plenty of reasons to be judged.  I have plenty of space for opinions.

But the beauty about knowing you belong to the God of the Universe is there is a reason He gave me "flaws."  In the new Jumanji, the venom "weakness" saved her.  Our "weaknesses" are our strengths because it means we are in need of a Savior.

And life without the Savior aka Jesus is a life bankrupt of beauty and truth...and one I have no interest in living.

I am Worthy

Anger:  n. a strong feeling of displeasure and belligerence aroused by a wrong.
Value:  n., the regard that something is held to deserve; the importance, worth, or usefulness of something.

I have a history of making people angry.  I'm a very stubborn, quick witted woman who has an answer for everything.  If I'm keeping quiet, it's likely I am disagreeing with you silently and in that moment have the maturity to hold my tongue.  (Notice I said "in that moment")  I will hold onto the idea that I am right and you are wrong until I am humiliated into agreeing otherwise.  It's a super fun way to live.  Insert Firm Eye Roll.

Men typically have an easier time being angry because it is less invasive and much less vulnerable.  And their M.O. is to always be in charge of their emotions.  Anger is socially acceptable for men, however, so that one is a bit less stringently monitored.  But the words that are inside their angry, red faces are, "You have wronged me.  I'm worth more.  How dare you."

This idea that we are deserving of kindness and respect from others is a conundrum.  We aren't quick to give kindness and respect to others, but we expect to be the recipient of it.  If we are angering other people, we feel some satisfaction that we matter enough to invoke emotions in another person.  If they are angering us, we feel exposed and weak.

We are comically complex beings.

If I was indeed angry with God, then it is fair to surmise that I, in fact, was hurt by Him....the anger was just an easier manifestation of my emotions.  It fueled the fire that kept me and my boys alive.  I needed it so I didn't fall apart.

But being angry was me essentially saying that I deserved more.  In my state of feeling worthless, I was able to make this leap enough to know...or believe, rather... that I was being wronged.   How dare He allow me to fall in love with two men that weren't right for me.  How dare He allow me to look away while my baby drowned.  How dare He allow me to almost lose my business.  How. Dare. He.

If He loved me, He wouldn't have allowed these dreadful things to happen to me.

Thus, He must not love me.

Under the anger resided a rapidly flowing river of pain that was wide as the universe.

Living a life that is bankrupt of the love of God was terrifying.  I was in a dark place without light.  I made choices that were self-destructive and at times dangerous.  I was living the way someone lives when they don't value their own life.  I stayed alive only for the sake of my boys.  For two years I allowed darkness to rule my life.  For two years I hung on by a thread just so my boys wouldn't lose their mother.

Love causes you to live a life of purpose and fullness.  Living without it...quite the opposite.

So beneath all my anger was the firm, immoveable belief that I was unloveable.  That I was, at my very core, without value.  

My boys and I went to see "A Wrinkle in Time" for Mother's Day.  In the movie, the main character Meg was given the gift of her faults.  Her bewildered response when she received this gift was, "You do know these are the bad things about me, right???"   Mrs. Whatsit, the giver of the gift, replied, "But is it?"

God says in His word that He knit me together in my Mother's womb.  The science and creativity that went into that one moment...I would be daft to not acknowledge that I was created in a specific way for a specific purpose.

Mrs. Which: [ to Meg] Do you realize how many events, choices, that had to occur since the birth of the universe leading up to the making of you?  Just exactly the way you are.

Anger may have been a great tool for me to feel less lost for those years.  But at the core of my anger was the hopeless, desperate feeling that I was unloved by my Creator.  Yes, atrocious things happened to me because there is incredible, overwhelming evil in the world and I am in desperate need of a Savior.  But my anger with God was nonsense because I belong to the God of the universe who took one look at me and said, "It is good."

Angry at God

I wasn't planning on going.  I was happy to stay in my pjs and putz around my house alone.  I hadn't gone out the night before, suprisingly, so was completely rested and clear headed.  My head hit the pillow at 9 p.m. and I didn't move until 6 a.m. the next morning.  But as a rule I stay home on Sundays when my boys are with their dad.

But my dad asked me to sell his books at church.  I had a split second to decide and before my brain could come up with all sorts of excuses, I said yes.  I quickly dressed and was out the door in 15 minutes.  Somewhat lamenting my quiet day at home, but happy to do my daughterly duty.

That one decision set something in motion for me.  A change that has been patiently waiting for my spirit to catch up.

My dad preached on not giving up on your goals.  It was a message I'd heard before in various different ways from various different people.  But that day, my spirit was ready to receive it.

My goal is to be the best momma I can possibly be to my boys.

I've been a bit sidetracked for the past 2 and a half years.

I've been seriously angry at God.  Like seething.  Like not-able- to- listen- to- anyone's- success- story- because- I'm- so- angry- at- where- I- am- in- my- own- life angry.  ANGRY.

Typically I sit in church and bemoan my life.  But this day it was different.  I felt like I could breathe without sucking in breath and squeezing it out of my lungs in painfully small puffs.  I was receiving the air fully.  And the message.

I have told myself for two years that I was not fit to be a mom.  I couldn't do the job alone.  I wasn't up to the challenge. I did not adult well.   I couldn't hack it alone.  I needed a man to fix me.  I was a mess.  I couldn't take care of myself much less them.  I wasn't strong enough.  Or good enough.  Other single moms could do it, but I didn't have what it took. 

And because of all these lies I told myself, I chose things over my responsibilities.  My emotions demanded it.  I was drowning in a tub filled with sadness and anger.  And doing my damnedest to ignore both of those things.  I sat at a bar when I should have been working.  I let other people take care of my boys so I could feed whatever damaged need I was having at the moment.  I neglected my friends who knew me well enough to see what I was doing and found others who didn't.  I came up with all sorts of excuses to justify my behavior.  But deep down I knew that it was simply because I. Was. ANGRY.

My boys were these terrifying little needy creatures that did not get with this belief.  They believed I was the best mom in the world.  They hugged me like I did not just yell at them or forget to get milk.  Or was late picking them up.  Or forgot to give them their vitamins.  Or forgot to wash their school uniforms.  Or let other people care for them.  They wanted to be with me though I was dark and uninviting.  Their love for me was steadfast though my love for myself had taken a long vacation somewhere in the Bahamas.  Regardless of how hard I tried, they weren't going to stop loving me.  Or go away.

I lied to myself for two years about who I was.  I told myself I was no good.  That God had made an error when He made me.  I told myself that I was weak.  Poor.  Misguided.  Victim to my stupidity.  Crazy.  Feeble.  No good.  Alone.  Worthless.  I was a mistake and would never be able to get it together.

But I know better.  I am created by the Most High God.  He did not make a mistake when He knit me together.  He looked at me and said I was good.  I am no victim.  I am not a poor man.  I'm covered by His love.  I am no orphan.  I am not alone.

That day in church, God and I stood face to face.  And instead of wanting to spit at Him as was typical for me, I put myself in the folds of His great stature.  And my anger subsided.



https://youtu.be/FxmDMqc15Ak

[Verse 1]

I am no victim, I live with a vision

I'm covered by the force of love

Covered in my Savior's blood

I am no orphan, I'm not a poor man

The kingdom's now become my own

And with the King I have a home

[Pre-Chorus]

He's not just reviving

Not simply restoring

Greater things have yet to come

Greater things have yet to come

[Verse 2]

'Cause He is my Father, I do not wonder

If His plans for me are good

If He'll come through like He should

'Cause He is provision and enough wisdom

To usher in my brightest days

To turn my mourning into praise

[Pre-Chorus]

He's not just reviving

Not simply restoring

Greater things have yet to come

Greater things have yet to come

[Interlude]

We just fix our eyes on You, Jesus, today

What You said, will reign

Just lift up your eyes, let your faith 'rise

[Bridge]

I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

Oh-oooh!...

[Chorus 1]

I'm no victim, I live with a vision

I'm covered by the force of love

Covered in my Savior's blood

I am no orphan, I'm not a poor man

The kingdom's now become my own

And with the King, I have a home

He is my Father

He is provision and enough wisdom

I am no victim

Oh, I am no victim

[Bridge]

I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

Oh, I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

Oh, I am who He says I am

He is who He says He is

I'm defined by, all His promises

Shaped by, every word He says

Oh-oooh!... declare

[Chorus 2]

I'm no victim, I live with a vision

I'm covered by the force of love

Covered in my Savior's blood

I am no orphan, I'm not a poor man

The kingdom's now become my own

And with the King, I have a home, home

I have a home

Shallow Roots

I was listening to all the different memories and stories the staff had of my dad.  It was an emotional moment.  With each church, there was a similar goodbye.  I wanted to tell them all that they had accurate pictures of him...he was the same man at home as he has been through the duration of his career.  But my tears wouldn't allow it.

Only five more Sundays until my dad officially retires.  The closer it gets the more discombobulated I feel.  Twenty years ago I settled here because my sister lived two hours away and was pregnant with her first baby...my first niece.  This was home because they were here.   I could have settled in Texas where most of my extended family was.  I probably would have had a better career.  I probably would have married a man more similar to me.  I probably would not have divorced.

Or I could have made the same mistakes and been divorced twice.

The infamous "what if" game.

When Mike and I were married I wasn't terrified about my parents retiring because I had him and all his family.  He has solid roots and I got to be a part of that third generation New Orleanian family.

Never would I have thought that I would be in this position....divorced, raising two boys alone....when my parents moved.

But that's kind of how life rolls.

You can't anticipate much.

I've lived in a multitude of places and cities.  Moving never scared me when I was younger.  I could make good friends wherever I went.  I am supremely curious by nature and not afraid to meet new people. But now that I have two little boys to consider, moving is terrifying, my curiosity is not as heightened, and the thought of meeting new people gives me pause.  Being left behind ... equally terrifying.

The reality is that I will live out my 40s in a city that I adopted.  The reality is that my roots are not deep.

The reality is that my challenge for the next ten+ years will be to make this city my home...without my parents.  And to choose happiness despite the tears.  And despite the roots.  Or lack thereof.

And for once, stay long enough ON MY OWN to let my roots grow.  For the sake of two little boys who deserve to have roots.

https://youtu.be/PUdyuKaGQd4
No Roots

I like digging holes and hiding things inside them

When I'll grow old, I hope I won't forget to find them

'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

I build a home and wait for someone to tear it down

Then pack it up in boxes, head for the next town running

'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

And a thousand times I've seen this road

A thousand times

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots uh uh uh uh

I've got no roots uh uh uh uh

I like standing still, but that's just a wishful plan

Ask me where I come from, I'll say a different land

But I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

I count gates and numbers, then play the guessing game

It's just the place that changes, the rest is still the same

But I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night

And a thousand times I've seen this road

A thousand times

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots uh uh uh uh

I've got no roots uh uh uh uh

I like digging holes

Hiding things inside them

When I'll grow old

I won't forget to find them

I like digging holes

Hiding things inside them

When I'll grow old

I won't forget to find them

I've got no roots

No roots

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground

I've got no roots uh uh uh uh

I've got no roots uh uh uh uh