This weekend is the NFC Championship between the Pittsburgh Steelers and the New York Jets. Both of these teams started the season in controversy. For the Steelers it was their star quarterback, a future Hall of Famer, who allegedly raped a woman, and later sexually assaulted another woman who wouldn't press charges. For the Jets, they made the news when they sexually harassed a news reporter who was interviewing in their locker room. This is all distant memory now. No one is talking about it. And why talk about it? Is it really a big deal? Isn't it more important that the team rose above the controversy and are on the brink of the opportunity to win it all?
Is this an issue? Is there a problem here? I mean, really, didn't the women have a role in this? After all, Andrea McNulty was after the money, and Google her name and see how she has been reviled on line for being stupid and ugly and just a B*#@* anyway. What was Ben thinking? For me, while I believed the reports, decided to give Ben the benefit of the doubt.
The second incident there was no question that it was rape. http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=5094224 Mr. Rooney said the right things, expressing his disappointment and disgust, and Rothlisberger said he would accept the punishment. A 4 game suspension. Wow! People go to prison for this! They go for a long time!!! However, the victim stated she didn't want to press charges. And no wonder, if she was going to get the same treatment that Ms. McNulty received!
The Jets incident. While not nearly as serious as the Rothlisberger case, still indicates that there is a keen disrespect for women.
WHAT IF....
The Pittsburgh Steelers have one of the finest franchises in the history of football. Whether a fan of the Steelers or not, you have to respect what they have done. The ownership has been stellar, the business plan solid, and have the Championship Trophies to prove it! Their fan base is strong and found in every state in the nation. WHAT IF the Steeler Nation stood up and stated that, while they have forgiven Big Ben, it's not enough. WHAT IF they insisted that Mr. Goodell and the NFL start making it a matter of high importance that this type of behavior isn't tolerated. What if they started an add campaign that expressed it's disgust of the abuse of women, and set a standard for honor and respect? Could you imagine an NFL sponsored Superbowl commercial that addresses the pandemic problem of the rape and abuse of women and children in our Land of the Free? What if the NFL sent contributions to help set in place rape crisis hotlines in every town? What if they developed programs to be taught in High Schools and Colleges that taught that sex isn't something to "conquer" but something to honor in a relationship with someone you love? Would this have a significant effect on our society? Change has to start somewhere! Why not football fans? Why not the NFL? Isn't it the National Sport? WHAT IF?
A few years ago Michael Vick was held responsible for illegal dog fighting and cruelty to animals and sent to prison. Yet we won't stand up for women. It is too ingrained in our society that women are at fault and "men will be men", despite the fact that every single one of us know women and children who have been abused. I do not believe that the Steeler Nation will take this action. I do not believe that they even see this as a concern. I do not believe that our country is willing to look at this devastating problem and do anything about it! But I have to keep saying it. I have to keep expressing my disgust. I have to hope that someday, somewhere, our country will actually decide to do something about it! Can you imagine what type of country this could be if we actually DID protect our women and children?
Monday, January 17, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
2010 at a Glance
Last year I sent out a Ten Year blog, and thought 10 years was a bit too long to wait between updates! ha! So,here is one just after a year.
Career:
I continue to work at Texas women's prison as a therapist. I was very sad when the powers that be decided the title Staff Psychotherapist wasn't the right title and changed it to Mental Health Clinician. I have really missed telling folks who ask me who I am "well, I'm the Psycho Therapist". Clinician just doesn't have the same ring!
The job provides much satisfaction in many ways. Yes, there are aspects of the job that I find exhausting and some days I struggle maintaining a "cool" disposition. But more times than not there is a sense of accomplishment as I walk out the sally port each evening.
I have been working with one woman since almost the beginning of my tenure there. The first two years she would come in and just cry, skin splotching brightly from all the stress/anxiety, and say she just couldn't talk about it (extensive childhood sexual abuse). I finally found two other offenders who were also motivated to work on their souls, and the three of them have done a fantastic work! The contrast in my client...from sleeping all the time, walking around with her head down and shoulders' slumped....is stunning! She no longer hangs her head and smiles brightly, is establishing healthy boundaries with unsafe and safe others, and is very proud of herself for the work she has accomplished. She has so much more to do, but is well on her way! Seeing this transformation is well worth the negatives of the job. And she's just one story. The prison is certainly full of anti-socials who have chosen evil, but they tend to stay away from the counseling office. There are many women who are the neglected, the abused, the thrown away women of our society who, when offered a chance, can get their lives turned around.
I had the opportunity to give a presentation to my peers I titled Rape and Society. While I've always had a few embers burning within about this topic, I small blaze was fired up while researching and preparing for this presentation. I thoroughly enjoyed having the dais for the day and being able to speak my thoughts about this topic. However, I felt like a was throwing a very small pebble into a vast ocean. I hope and pray that one day our society will honor, respect and protect our women and children. I will keep looking for opportunities to make a difference in my own little world.
Vineyard Christian Fellowship of Temple:
This gets it's own section because it plays such a significant part of my life. This is a very tiny church, in building and in numbers. These are the people that I get into the trenches with, let the "iron sharpen iron", and in general try to make a place for His Presence to always dwell when we gather together. This has been a very rewarding year! While it started with some very painful experiences when two couples that had been in leadership left our church in a hurtful way, a time of amazing love, peace and unity fell upon our people! We have enjoyed His Presence the vast majority of gatherings, and those the He has entrusted to us are learning and growing. The leaders continue to learn and grow as well. Humility reigns. God is God and we are not, and we attempt to proclaim His Truths every time we gather.
The worship band is a source of joy for me. Teresa, our lead vocal, has grown in confidence and has begun using her fabulous gift of prophecy as she leads. The band is full of servant leaders, who find great joy in just being a part of something bigger than themselves. This is a gift in and of itself, as those of you who have tried to lead musicians would know. There can be big egos in this area! I am fortunate to be working with these folks!
While it's been a very warm and gentle year, we want more! We want revival! We want Him to fall on Central Texas and change the spiritual apathy into an unquenchable fire! We can always hope and anticipate for such an experience! I hope it becomes a reality!
A few thoughts about life outside of work and church:
This year I was blessed with new friends, folks my age with a young child, who love to get out on the weekends and do fun things, and they wanted me for company. Yippee! It's made the "other hours" of my life more lively! I've thoroughly enjoyed engaging in dialogue with these mature Christians. I love their heart and passion for Jesus, their love and commitment to him, and how they handle the hard things of life. They have been a blessing to me. It's quite possible they will move from this area in the future, so I'll enjoy it while I can!
Mom. Her health is definitely not what it used to be. I have needed to begin taking more responsibility in her care, mostly in the area of bills and banking and Edward Jones and other logistics. She has been falling more, is finding it harder to get up from a sitting position, and in general is needing to not be by herself for long periods of time. Mom and Dad bought insurance a number of years ago to help with this very thing. (Thanks, Pappy, for your foresight!) We have found a home care provider, and a woman comes by 3 days a week to help her. Starting last week, the helper is coming 5 days a week for several hours a day. The hours will increase when the insurance "kicks in" this spring. My brother David still provides much care for her on evenings and weekends. He is most definitely a gift to Mom in her provision. What would we do without David????
I want to wish all of you a blessed New Year! I love this holiday more than any, because it means fresh starts and new beginnings. And I'm all about reviewing what is and how it can be better, or what needs to be cast off and replaced with something more effective, or learning to accept "what is" and live in peace. Okay, so I'm not quite there yet, but the "now and not yet" is a pretty cool place to live!
Love ya'll!
Career:
I continue to work at Texas women's prison as a therapist. I was very sad when the powers that be decided the title Staff Psychotherapist wasn't the right title and changed it to Mental Health Clinician. I have really missed telling folks who ask me who I am "well, I'm the Psycho Therapist". Clinician just doesn't have the same ring!
The job provides much satisfaction in many ways. Yes, there are aspects of the job that I find exhausting and some days I struggle maintaining a "cool" disposition. But more times than not there is a sense of accomplishment as I walk out the sally port each evening.
I have been working with one woman since almost the beginning of my tenure there. The first two years she would come in and just cry, skin splotching brightly from all the stress/anxiety, and say she just couldn't talk about it (extensive childhood sexual abuse). I finally found two other offenders who were also motivated to work on their souls, and the three of them have done a fantastic work! The contrast in my client...from sleeping all the time, walking around with her head down and shoulders' slumped....is stunning! She no longer hangs her head and smiles brightly, is establishing healthy boundaries with unsafe and safe others, and is very proud of herself for the work she has accomplished. She has so much more to do, but is well on her way! Seeing this transformation is well worth the negatives of the job. And she's just one story. The prison is certainly full of anti-socials who have chosen evil, but they tend to stay away from the counseling office. There are many women who are the neglected, the abused, the thrown away women of our society who, when offered a chance, can get their lives turned around.
I had the opportunity to give a presentation to my peers I titled Rape and Society. While I've always had a few embers burning within about this topic, I small blaze was fired up while researching and preparing for this presentation. I thoroughly enjoyed having the dais for the day and being able to speak my thoughts about this topic. However, I felt like a was throwing a very small pebble into a vast ocean. I hope and pray that one day our society will honor, respect and protect our women and children. I will keep looking for opportunities to make a difference in my own little world.
Vineyard Christian Fellowship of Temple:
This gets it's own section because it plays such a significant part of my life. This is a very tiny church, in building and in numbers. These are the people that I get into the trenches with, let the "iron sharpen iron", and in general try to make a place for His Presence to always dwell when we gather together. This has been a very rewarding year! While it started with some very painful experiences when two couples that had been in leadership left our church in a hurtful way, a time of amazing love, peace and unity fell upon our people! We have enjoyed His Presence the vast majority of gatherings, and those the He has entrusted to us are learning and growing. The leaders continue to learn and grow as well. Humility reigns. God is God and we are not, and we attempt to proclaim His Truths every time we gather.
The worship band is a source of joy for me. Teresa, our lead vocal, has grown in confidence and has begun using her fabulous gift of prophecy as she leads. The band is full of servant leaders, who find great joy in just being a part of something bigger than themselves. This is a gift in and of itself, as those of you who have tried to lead musicians would know. There can be big egos in this area! I am fortunate to be working with these folks!
While it's been a very warm and gentle year, we want more! We want revival! We want Him to fall on Central Texas and change the spiritual apathy into an unquenchable fire! We can always hope and anticipate for such an experience! I hope it becomes a reality!
A few thoughts about life outside of work and church:
This year I was blessed with new friends, folks my age with a young child, who love to get out on the weekends and do fun things, and they wanted me for company. Yippee! It's made the "other hours" of my life more lively! I've thoroughly enjoyed engaging in dialogue with these mature Christians. I love their heart and passion for Jesus, their love and commitment to him, and how they handle the hard things of life. They have been a blessing to me. It's quite possible they will move from this area in the future, so I'll enjoy it while I can!
Mom. Her health is definitely not what it used to be. I have needed to begin taking more responsibility in her care, mostly in the area of bills and banking and Edward Jones and other logistics. She has been falling more, is finding it harder to get up from a sitting position, and in general is needing to not be by herself for long periods of time. Mom and Dad bought insurance a number of years ago to help with this very thing. (Thanks, Pappy, for your foresight!) We have found a home care provider, and a woman comes by 3 days a week to help her. Starting last week, the helper is coming 5 days a week for several hours a day. The hours will increase when the insurance "kicks in" this spring. My brother David still provides much care for her on evenings and weekends. He is most definitely a gift to Mom in her provision. What would we do without David????
I want to wish all of you a blessed New Year! I love this holiday more than any, because it means fresh starts and new beginnings. And I'm all about reviewing what is and how it can be better, or what needs to be cast off and replaced with something more effective, or learning to accept "what is" and live in peace. Okay, so I'm not quite there yet, but the "now and not yet" is a pretty cool place to live!
Love ya'll!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
10 Years
When August 16th, 2009 rolled around, it marked the 10 year anniversary of my return to Texas after an intense 13 years in California. I have wanted to document the experience, and decided a Christmas news letter just might be in order. I'm horrible with Christmas cards, but enjoy facebook and blogsites, so I decided to catch every one up with a blog! :)
I decided that I would write about 10 events that have been significant in my 10 years back in Texas. These are not in any order, like on the Letterman Show. The most significant is so painful, my brother's passing, that I would rather not share that last.
1. The miracle of my time in California.
I could not have moved back to Texas and be where I am today without the amazing experience of my time in California. The Lord spent the first 5 years tearing down the old self, and the next 8 years building up the new self that was firmly established in Christ, in Truth, in Life! It was an amazing experience!
One day, in the early summer of '09, I received a phone call from UMHB, asking if I would be interested in the Volleyball job. I had been called on one other previous occasion, but turned them down. But this time something in my heart responded. I knew it was time to go home. If there had been any doubt before I moved, it was erased when I flew to UMHB to sign the contract and look for housing. I only looked at two houses, and decided that it would be best to just come back and find temporary housing, store my possessions, and take my time looking. However, when I was on the small plane from Killeen, Tx to Houston, Tx, I was sitting by a delightful woman that talked to me the whole way to Houston. Near the end of the short trip, I felt a strong unction to tell her about the houses I had looked at. I ignored it. The unction became stronger. I said "I feel like I'm supposed to tell you that I looked at a couple of houses today for sale." She said "Oh yeah, which ones?" I mentioned my favorite, 220 N. Pearl. She said, in a state of shock, "I'm the owner!!!" Needless to say, we were both screaming "no way" and "Oh my" and "oh my goodness" and I have to say I cried a little, but mostly smiled ear to ear! I bought the house!
2. Was this really His intention????
I went back to Cali and marvelled at His so very clear design that I was to move back to Texas! He had never been this clear to me before. I remember moving in, and for the first month I would literally dance in joy all through the rooms of this cute little house, feeling very very loved.
And then three months later I was in a dark depression! I felt the misfit here in central Texas! Can you imagine living in California, amongst a group of friends who pressed into their soul, with Jesus, pursuing freedom at the deepest levels; prayer groups, celebrations; roomies galore.....and then....silence...aloneness....desert. I spoke a language that didn't work in Texas. I tried to speak openly with others about my experiences, about life, tried to celebrate others, tried to speak into others' lives...and would get blank stares, confusion, and even the occasional 'freakout'! Was this God's intention? Of course it was. And it was why He was so clear in his intentions for me, because He knew it would be hard, and He wanted me to know this was his plan!
3. Coaching!!!!
Wow!!! I was getting paid a nice salary to teach and coach at the college level! I can remember going to work each day and saying "they are throwing money at me to have fun!" And it was fun. I enjoyed teaching the classes, and I enjoyed coaching! The program was in shambles. I had no athletes per se to work with. But I got busy teaching them what I knew. It was great fun to teach them how to compete, how to build their playing skills, getting a team to play together. But I was also realizing I didn't want to do this forever, and I needed another plan!
4. Counseling...Oh Yeah!
In '03 I made the decision to get a master's in counseling. UMHB has a master's program, and being an employee, it was half price! Hugely important, as the cost was high. I spent the next three years completing a 48 hour Community Counseling degree for the purpose of becoming a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC). The program was delightful for the most part, and in the summer of '06 I graduated!!!!
5. Transition
Perhaps it was an error on my part, but I am who I am. I told my boss that I would be pursuing a degree in counseling, thinking that in 10 years I would be 'retiring' from coaching and working as a counselor. The relationship soured shortly after. He began documenting things that would help him to push me out the door. I never violated any policies or procedures, but he found ways to demonstrate that I wasn't living up to the requirements of the job, mostly regarding the win-loss record. As this relationship deteriorated, I began to no longer enjoy the job. There was always a glance over the shoulder, a worry that I wasn't living up to expectations. And honestly, my weaknesses became more pronounced as I brought in better athletes. I'm not a strong disciplinarian, which some players couldn't thrive under. They needed someone stronger who could 'make' them perform to their potential. And on my end, I could see their soul and the wounds there, and would just as soon sit down and help them heal than to teach them volleyball skills. Though I was freaking out the day the AD called me into his office to fire me, the Lord was in control. He had it all planned out for me, though I couldn't rest in that peace. It was a hard 3 months of living on my severance and wondering what was next! But what was next was amazing!
6. Dad
When I moved to Cali there were a few hurts in my heart. One of them was my Dad. I loved my dad (Pappy) and he loved me, so this isn't a question about love. It was the hurt that occurs in every relationship that needs healing, and my time in Cali was all about healing this, and other, hurts. When I came back to Texas, I was given two precious years of relating to my Pappy as a different person. He has changed as well. I spent a month in the summer that first year working with him and his lawn care business. It was a whole new experience! He praised my work ethic. And even when I made a 'bone-headed' mistake by not turning off the blade before loading the tractor (and therefore flipping me off the trailer and by the grace of God not getting crushed by the tractor!), my Pappy was gracious and kind, more concerned about my physical well being than the thoughtless error that I had just made! It was a new experience for both of us, and I am forever grateful for that time! On September 16h of '01, 5 days after the terrorist attack in America, my Pappy went home to be with the Lord. He was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor in early August, and he was gone in 4 weeks. I was able to come home on the weekends and care for him, and he passed on my watch, a Sunday morning, with Roger and Gayla with me. I feel honored that I was able to be with him as he made that transition.
7. Juvenile Delinquents
I was nervously sitting at home, wondering what in the world I would be doing next. I was 9 months away from graduating, and it is hard to find paid internships. I was calling Rockdale Regional Juvenile Justice Center on a regular basis, because the counseling staff there was requesting the money for another position. I was hoping to get on there! Then I learned they were denied the position. Fear, almost panic, set in. I was not resting in the Lord and His will. Then, two weeks before the severance pay was to end, I got a call from Rockdale. One of their staff members took a job at another place. Would I be interested in working for them? Wow! Lord, You are so good!!!! I had a fabulous 18 months at this facility! It was a whole new experience for me. I was moving in my strengths, I was speaking into young kids' lives! I was making a difference!!!!!! I remember one night leaving the facility after a particularly productive day, raising my fist up in the air, and declaring "I AM A THERAPIST" and feeling profoundly overjoyed by the statement! It was what the Lord intended for me all these years! Though I enjoyed coaching volleyball, this was different. This was a 'soul thing'. This was something that gave me a whole new purpose and life. These kids were hurting/abused children. Loving on them was the most important, and natural, thing I could imagine doing at this time of my life! And I found that I was good at it! They responded to my challenges and felt loved by my exhortations. In the 4 - 6 months that I had them under my care, several made significant changes in their lives! It was profound.
8. Roger
It was the spring of, I believe, '06. I was home in the afternoon and received a call from Roger. He had been told he had Pancreatic cancer, that possibly he would be gone in 6 months. I sat down and wept.
I drove down to Austin to meet up with Roger and Gayla, and Brad and Lynette, at the oncologist. The report was better than initially thought. It wasn't pancreatic cancer! It was a slow growing tumor that originated on his liver and had spread to his pancreas. Surgery was scheduled and the tumor on the pancreas was removed. There was hope. He followed the orders of the doctor and did the recommended treatments. It didn't work. They sent him to Houston to the cancer specialty hospital there, and they put him on experimental treatments. It didn't work. He then tried a radical change in diet, eating only the freshest and healthiest of foods, while also still taking an experimental drug. This seemed to only speed up the growth. Though he lived longer than the initial prognosis, we lost our brother/father/husband/son on December 2nd, 2007. It was brutal. My father was hard, this was brutal. He was only 49. We all felt cheated! His first grandchild will be born this April. We grieve.
9. Depression and Faith
I mentioned that after the first few months of returning to Texas I fell into depression. Depression has been an on again off again experience since I moved back to Texas. It was very difficult to move from a thriving, life giving community, to a life of semi isolation and limited community. I will be forever grateful to Steve Stybor for mentioning the new book that recently was released regarding the letters of Mother Teresa to her confidants. Though she had wanted these letters to be destroyed, I am grateful the letters survived. She wrote about her own darkness of the soul, a darkness that lasted throughout her ministry! I am in awe of this woman! She had an audible exchange with Jesus himself that set her on course for the amazing work she did on this earth....and then He withdrew His presence! She was lonely throughout her 50+ year minestry. Lonely for Jesus!!! And yet, she kept choosing to love Him, to identify with His thirst on the cross, to serve the lowest of the low, because "when you do this to the least, you've done it until Me". And the joy that settled into her soul, though she may never have felt it, was palpable. No one could be in her presence and not feel her intense love of Christ, her intense peace and joy, and not be moved! What a woman of God!!!!
It gives me hope! Though this has been a valley, a deep dark valley at times, I have continued to choose Him!!!! I continue to speak His truth to others at the appropriate times and places. I keep taking one step at a time, always trying to move forward. I am no Mother Teresa. But it gives me hope, renews my courage, to keep on trucking!
I have been working with the worship team at the Temple Vineyard since '02. It's been an amazing experience! I really enjoy coming alongside others, working with others, and building a team! It's a place of learning and growth. It's been a difficult challenge at times, and it's been a burden at times. But the Lord continues to guide and direct us, as well as bless us! Wonderful experience.
10. Career and Faith
For those who know me well, you know that I spent extensive time, energy, and money to work on the healing of my soul. In particular, regarding my sexuality. It was a profound experience, and I just knew that the Lord was wanting me to work with others with the exact same issues and help them find freedom. I saw myself starting up a Living Waters program here in central Texas. It has not happened. No doors have opened. In fact, doors have been slammed shut! Forcefully!!!! It's been confusing. I spent time and money to go to a LW training in Southern California, and just knew the Lord would open up doors and that I would just walk right through them, easily, peacefully, knowledgeably, confidently. HAHAHAHAHA!
The Lord has been so gracious to me! I could not imagine a life without Him! I want to serve Him the rest of my life and only hope that I can be half the person He created me to be! I am a weak, selfish human being, and it humbles me.
I would never in a hundred years guessed the direction that the Lord has taken me. I just knew that I would work exclusively with Christians, as mentioned above. Well, the Lord has a sense of humor. First, He gave me outstanding teachers at UMHB. One teacher in particular painted a picture of how to maintain your convictions and beliefs and walk alongside someone who may not be ready to hear the truth. I also heard a teaching by Andy Comiskey, how while flying overseas sat beside a lesbian whom he was able to lead to the Lord. The woman said that she would never have believed the love of the Lord if a Christian friend hadn't stood beside her for the past 20 years despite her choice of lifestyle. That story moved me and encouraged me.
Today I work with women prisoners at a large prison in central Texas. Homosexuality is rampant. Quite a few of the women are very masculinized! Rape and molestation is the norm in their life stories. I am able to love them right where they are, speak into their lives as much as they will allow, and walk with them one step at a time. It appears that the Lord is wanting me to work with women who have been ravaged by those who were supposed to love and protect. The job fits me well. Though there are aspects of the job that are draining and frustrating, I find myself, after two and a half years, feeling like the job fits me like a glove. It is amazing to work within my strengths. It is fulfilling! And I feel His presence and guidance in the midst of it! Who would have imagined?
So, there you have it. My Christmas letter for the decade! Hopefully it won't be so long before the next one!
May God bless each and every one of you during this Christmas season!
I decided that I would write about 10 events that have been significant in my 10 years back in Texas. These are not in any order, like on the Letterman Show. The most significant is so painful, my brother's passing, that I would rather not share that last.
1. The miracle of my time in California.
I could not have moved back to Texas and be where I am today without the amazing experience of my time in California. The Lord spent the first 5 years tearing down the old self, and the next 8 years building up the new self that was firmly established in Christ, in Truth, in Life! It was an amazing experience!
One day, in the early summer of '09, I received a phone call from UMHB, asking if I would be interested in the Volleyball job. I had been called on one other previous occasion, but turned them down. But this time something in my heart responded. I knew it was time to go home. If there had been any doubt before I moved, it was erased when I flew to UMHB to sign the contract and look for housing. I only looked at two houses, and decided that it would be best to just come back and find temporary housing, store my possessions, and take my time looking. However, when I was on the small plane from Killeen, Tx to Houston, Tx, I was sitting by a delightful woman that talked to me the whole way to Houston. Near the end of the short trip, I felt a strong unction to tell her about the houses I had looked at. I ignored it. The unction became stronger. I said "I feel like I'm supposed to tell you that I looked at a couple of houses today for sale." She said "Oh yeah, which ones?" I mentioned my favorite, 220 N. Pearl. She said, in a state of shock, "I'm the owner!!!" Needless to say, we were both screaming "no way" and "Oh my" and "oh my goodness" and I have to say I cried a little, but mostly smiled ear to ear! I bought the house!
2. Was this really His intention????
I went back to Cali and marvelled at His so very clear design that I was to move back to Texas! He had never been this clear to me before. I remember moving in, and for the first month I would literally dance in joy all through the rooms of this cute little house, feeling very very loved.
And then three months later I was in a dark depression! I felt the misfit here in central Texas! Can you imagine living in California, amongst a group of friends who pressed into their soul, with Jesus, pursuing freedom at the deepest levels; prayer groups, celebrations; roomies galore.....and then....silence...aloneness....desert. I spoke a language that didn't work in Texas. I tried to speak openly with others about my experiences, about life, tried to celebrate others, tried to speak into others' lives...and would get blank stares, confusion, and even the occasional 'freakout'! Was this God's intention? Of course it was. And it was why He was so clear in his intentions for me, because He knew it would be hard, and He wanted me to know this was his plan!
3. Coaching!!!!
Wow!!! I was getting paid a nice salary to teach and coach at the college level! I can remember going to work each day and saying "they are throwing money at me to have fun!" And it was fun. I enjoyed teaching the classes, and I enjoyed coaching! The program was in shambles. I had no athletes per se to work with. But I got busy teaching them what I knew. It was great fun to teach them how to compete, how to build their playing skills, getting a team to play together. But I was also realizing I didn't want to do this forever, and I needed another plan!
4. Counseling...Oh Yeah!
In '03 I made the decision to get a master's in counseling. UMHB has a master's program, and being an employee, it was half price! Hugely important, as the cost was high. I spent the next three years completing a 48 hour Community Counseling degree for the purpose of becoming a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC). The program was delightful for the most part, and in the summer of '06 I graduated!!!!
5. Transition
Perhaps it was an error on my part, but I am who I am. I told my boss that I would be pursuing a degree in counseling, thinking that in 10 years I would be 'retiring' from coaching and working as a counselor. The relationship soured shortly after. He began documenting things that would help him to push me out the door. I never violated any policies or procedures, but he found ways to demonstrate that I wasn't living up to the requirements of the job, mostly regarding the win-loss record. As this relationship deteriorated, I began to no longer enjoy the job. There was always a glance over the shoulder, a worry that I wasn't living up to expectations. And honestly, my weaknesses became more pronounced as I brought in better athletes. I'm not a strong disciplinarian, which some players couldn't thrive under. They needed someone stronger who could 'make' them perform to their potential. And on my end, I could see their soul and the wounds there, and would just as soon sit down and help them heal than to teach them volleyball skills. Though I was freaking out the day the AD called me into his office to fire me, the Lord was in control. He had it all planned out for me, though I couldn't rest in that peace. It was a hard 3 months of living on my severance and wondering what was next! But what was next was amazing!
6. Dad
When I moved to Cali there were a few hurts in my heart. One of them was my Dad. I loved my dad (Pappy) and he loved me, so this isn't a question about love. It was the hurt that occurs in every relationship that needs healing, and my time in Cali was all about healing this, and other, hurts. When I came back to Texas, I was given two precious years of relating to my Pappy as a different person. He has changed as well. I spent a month in the summer that first year working with him and his lawn care business. It was a whole new experience! He praised my work ethic. And even when I made a 'bone-headed' mistake by not turning off the blade before loading the tractor (and therefore flipping me off the trailer and by the grace of God not getting crushed by the tractor!), my Pappy was gracious and kind, more concerned about my physical well being than the thoughtless error that I had just made! It was a new experience for both of us, and I am forever grateful for that time! On September 16h of '01, 5 days after the terrorist attack in America, my Pappy went home to be with the Lord. He was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor in early August, and he was gone in 4 weeks. I was able to come home on the weekends and care for him, and he passed on my watch, a Sunday morning, with Roger and Gayla with me. I feel honored that I was able to be with him as he made that transition.
7. Juvenile Delinquents
I was nervously sitting at home, wondering what in the world I would be doing next. I was 9 months away from graduating, and it is hard to find paid internships. I was calling Rockdale Regional Juvenile Justice Center on a regular basis, because the counseling staff there was requesting the money for another position. I was hoping to get on there! Then I learned they were denied the position. Fear, almost panic, set in. I was not resting in the Lord and His will. Then, two weeks before the severance pay was to end, I got a call from Rockdale. One of their staff members took a job at another place. Would I be interested in working for them? Wow! Lord, You are so good!!!! I had a fabulous 18 months at this facility! It was a whole new experience for me. I was moving in my strengths, I was speaking into young kids' lives! I was making a difference!!!!!! I remember one night leaving the facility after a particularly productive day, raising my fist up in the air, and declaring "I AM A THERAPIST" and feeling profoundly overjoyed by the statement! It was what the Lord intended for me all these years! Though I enjoyed coaching volleyball, this was different. This was a 'soul thing'. This was something that gave me a whole new purpose and life. These kids were hurting/abused children. Loving on them was the most important, and natural, thing I could imagine doing at this time of my life! And I found that I was good at it! They responded to my challenges and felt loved by my exhortations. In the 4 - 6 months that I had them under my care, several made significant changes in their lives! It was profound.
8. Roger
It was the spring of, I believe, '06. I was home in the afternoon and received a call from Roger. He had been told he had Pancreatic cancer, that possibly he would be gone in 6 months. I sat down and wept.
I drove down to Austin to meet up with Roger and Gayla, and Brad and Lynette, at the oncologist. The report was better than initially thought. It wasn't pancreatic cancer! It was a slow growing tumor that originated on his liver and had spread to his pancreas. Surgery was scheduled and the tumor on the pancreas was removed. There was hope. He followed the orders of the doctor and did the recommended treatments. It didn't work. They sent him to Houston to the cancer specialty hospital there, and they put him on experimental treatments. It didn't work. He then tried a radical change in diet, eating only the freshest and healthiest of foods, while also still taking an experimental drug. This seemed to only speed up the growth. Though he lived longer than the initial prognosis, we lost our brother/father/husband/son on December 2nd, 2007. It was brutal. My father was hard, this was brutal. He was only 49. We all felt cheated! His first grandchild will be born this April. We grieve.
9. Depression and Faith
I mentioned that after the first few months of returning to Texas I fell into depression. Depression has been an on again off again experience since I moved back to Texas. It was very difficult to move from a thriving, life giving community, to a life of semi isolation and limited community. I will be forever grateful to Steve Stybor for mentioning the new book that recently was released regarding the letters of Mother Teresa to her confidants. Though she had wanted these letters to be destroyed, I am grateful the letters survived. She wrote about her own darkness of the soul, a darkness that lasted throughout her ministry! I am in awe of this woman! She had an audible exchange with Jesus himself that set her on course for the amazing work she did on this earth....and then He withdrew His presence! She was lonely throughout her 50+ year minestry. Lonely for Jesus!!! And yet, she kept choosing to love Him, to identify with His thirst on the cross, to serve the lowest of the low, because "when you do this to the least, you've done it until Me". And the joy that settled into her soul, though she may never have felt it, was palpable. No one could be in her presence and not feel her intense love of Christ, her intense peace and joy, and not be moved! What a woman of God!!!!
It gives me hope! Though this has been a valley, a deep dark valley at times, I have continued to choose Him!!!! I continue to speak His truth to others at the appropriate times and places. I keep taking one step at a time, always trying to move forward. I am no Mother Teresa. But it gives me hope, renews my courage, to keep on trucking!
I have been working with the worship team at the Temple Vineyard since '02. It's been an amazing experience! I really enjoy coming alongside others, working with others, and building a team! It's a place of learning and growth. It's been a difficult challenge at times, and it's been a burden at times. But the Lord continues to guide and direct us, as well as bless us! Wonderful experience.
10. Career and Faith
For those who know me well, you know that I spent extensive time, energy, and money to work on the healing of my soul. In particular, regarding my sexuality. It was a profound experience, and I just knew that the Lord was wanting me to work with others with the exact same issues and help them find freedom. I saw myself starting up a Living Waters program here in central Texas. It has not happened. No doors have opened. In fact, doors have been slammed shut! Forcefully!!!! It's been confusing. I spent time and money to go to a LW training in Southern California, and just knew the Lord would open up doors and that I would just walk right through them, easily, peacefully, knowledgeably, confidently. HAHAHAHAHA!
The Lord has been so gracious to me! I could not imagine a life without Him! I want to serve Him the rest of my life and only hope that I can be half the person He created me to be! I am a weak, selfish human being, and it humbles me.
I would never in a hundred years guessed the direction that the Lord has taken me. I just knew that I would work exclusively with Christians, as mentioned above. Well, the Lord has a sense of humor. First, He gave me outstanding teachers at UMHB. One teacher in particular painted a picture of how to maintain your convictions and beliefs and walk alongside someone who may not be ready to hear the truth. I also heard a teaching by Andy Comiskey, how while flying overseas sat beside a lesbian whom he was able to lead to the Lord. The woman said that she would never have believed the love of the Lord if a Christian friend hadn't stood beside her for the past 20 years despite her choice of lifestyle. That story moved me and encouraged me.
Today I work with women prisoners at a large prison in central Texas. Homosexuality is rampant. Quite a few of the women are very masculinized! Rape and molestation is the norm in their life stories. I am able to love them right where they are, speak into their lives as much as they will allow, and walk with them one step at a time. It appears that the Lord is wanting me to work with women who have been ravaged by those who were supposed to love and protect. The job fits me well. Though there are aspects of the job that are draining and frustrating, I find myself, after two and a half years, feeling like the job fits me like a glove. It is amazing to work within my strengths. It is fulfilling! And I feel His presence and guidance in the midst of it! Who would have imagined?
So, there you have it. My Christmas letter for the decade! Hopefully it won't be so long before the next one!
May God bless each and every one of you during this Christmas season!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Aroma
Several years ago I was reading a book written by a brilliant man by the name of Dan Allendar. The book is The Wounded Heart, and it addresses the healing of the soul for women who have been sexually abused. A friend of mine was dealing with this issue and I was reading it in support. I was struck by a passage that I cannot quote here as I do not know what has happened to my book, but the basic idea was this: When you live from a place of Truth and present it to others, you will either be an aroma of life or an aroma of death to others.
First of all, that is quite the place to live in! Second of all, what a raw moment in time!
I cannot claim to completely live my life from a position of truth, but it is my goal and my hope to live there as often as I can. But let me tell you, in the work I have now embarked on, that intense wrestling of the soul to choose life or to remain in a dark place is sometimes painfully visible.
It is the same basic story, though unique to each individual; some dark evil has been committed against them. Very frequently it is the crime of adults against children, hugely inappropriately carrying out sexual desires that ravage the souls of their victims. The little boy or girl will never be the same. Each will have to make large decisions as they mature that will determine just how damaging the abuse will be to their lives.
Shonda (name changed to protect identity) sat in the office, asking for help with her anger. She said she is tired of being so angry, that it is preventing her from achieving her goal of moving up from medium custody and into the general population. I asked her what she was so mad about. She told me that when she was 5 years of age, her 11 year old sister brought home her 14 year old gang member boyfriend. She doesn't know why she was left alone with him, but he got to her and molested her. She did not tell her mother, but she did tell her sister. Though her sister stopped seeing the boy, she did not offer compassion and sympathy to her sister. At this point Shonda chose to protect herself with hate and with aggression. By the time she was in middle school she was fighting. By the time she was supposed to be in highschool she was in and out of juvenile detention centers. And now here she sat in prison at the age of 21, serving an aggravated sentence and not being able to stay out of trouble while incarcerated. Her soul was tired. Fighting was no longer working for her. She wanted peace but didn't know how to attain it.
As we talked, she was able to express her sorrow with the loss of relationship with her sister. She was ready to forgive, to move forward, but had no idea how to begin. She did not know where her sister was, nor did she know how to reach her. Sadness and regret filled her eyes.
I broached the idea of forgiving her abuser. Her eyes hardened immediately. She stated "I cannot forgive him". I attempted to empathize with her about what happened to her. It's hard sometimes when you haven't experienced it yourself, and forgiveness has it's time and place. However, I encouraged her to consider forgiveness. I scheduled her for a follow up appointment.
The next time we met she was forthright. She stated "I tried, Miss, and I can't forgive him". I again explained to her how unforgiveness keeps the abuse tied to us, that it keeps the offense tied to our souls and therefore angry and bitter. I gave examples, I explained as simply as I could what it would be like for her to let this go and find peace. I saw her eyes begin to lighten ever so slightly. I had hope that she would understand, that she would choose to forgive. I explained that forgiveness is a choice rather than a feeling, and sometimes we have to work really hard at this choice, but forgive we must. Her eyes brightened a bit more. Then I sat quietly. She lowered her eyes for a few moments, then raised them again. The hardness had returned, resolved to hold her abuser accountable. "Miss, I can forgive my sister, but I can never forgive him! Never!". My heart went out to her. What a brutal thing to have happened to a 5 year old. There but for the grace of God go I! I did not judge her. But I sorrowed for her. I again encouraged her to keep trying to forgive. She left irritated, undoubtedly feeling like I was asking too much of her. And perhaps I was at this time and place. I hope that some day she will be able to forgive and move on in her life! The story isn't over.
It is so humbling to work with these women. I sit in my chair and I counsel. I tell them things that I'm not so sure I am willing to do myself. I hear myself encouraging them to forgive. Have I forgiven all the offenses in my life? I can think of a few incidents that still bring up anger, irritation, frustration. Will I choose to forgive? Will I this day choose life? Or will I continue to let my pride dictate my choices?
My hope and prayer is to be an aroma of life. Forgiveness must prevail! I've got some work to do.
First of all, that is quite the place to live in! Second of all, what a raw moment in time!
I cannot claim to completely live my life from a position of truth, but it is my goal and my hope to live there as often as I can. But let me tell you, in the work I have now embarked on, that intense wrestling of the soul to choose life or to remain in a dark place is sometimes painfully visible.
It is the same basic story, though unique to each individual; some dark evil has been committed against them. Very frequently it is the crime of adults against children, hugely inappropriately carrying out sexual desires that ravage the souls of their victims. The little boy or girl will never be the same. Each will have to make large decisions as they mature that will determine just how damaging the abuse will be to their lives.
Shonda (name changed to protect identity) sat in the office, asking for help with her anger. She said she is tired of being so angry, that it is preventing her from achieving her goal of moving up from medium custody and into the general population. I asked her what she was so mad about. She told me that when she was 5 years of age, her 11 year old sister brought home her 14 year old gang member boyfriend. She doesn't know why she was left alone with him, but he got to her and molested her. She did not tell her mother, but she did tell her sister. Though her sister stopped seeing the boy, she did not offer compassion and sympathy to her sister. At this point Shonda chose to protect herself with hate and with aggression. By the time she was in middle school she was fighting. By the time she was supposed to be in highschool she was in and out of juvenile detention centers. And now here she sat in prison at the age of 21, serving an aggravated sentence and not being able to stay out of trouble while incarcerated. Her soul was tired. Fighting was no longer working for her. She wanted peace but didn't know how to attain it.
As we talked, she was able to express her sorrow with the loss of relationship with her sister. She was ready to forgive, to move forward, but had no idea how to begin. She did not know where her sister was, nor did she know how to reach her. Sadness and regret filled her eyes.
I broached the idea of forgiving her abuser. Her eyes hardened immediately. She stated "I cannot forgive him". I attempted to empathize with her about what happened to her. It's hard sometimes when you haven't experienced it yourself, and forgiveness has it's time and place. However, I encouraged her to consider forgiveness. I scheduled her for a follow up appointment.
The next time we met she was forthright. She stated "I tried, Miss, and I can't forgive him". I again explained to her how unforgiveness keeps the abuse tied to us, that it keeps the offense tied to our souls and therefore angry and bitter. I gave examples, I explained as simply as I could what it would be like for her to let this go and find peace. I saw her eyes begin to lighten ever so slightly. I had hope that she would understand, that she would choose to forgive. I explained that forgiveness is a choice rather than a feeling, and sometimes we have to work really hard at this choice, but forgive we must. Her eyes brightened a bit more. Then I sat quietly. She lowered her eyes for a few moments, then raised them again. The hardness had returned, resolved to hold her abuser accountable. "Miss, I can forgive my sister, but I can never forgive him! Never!". My heart went out to her. What a brutal thing to have happened to a 5 year old. There but for the grace of God go I! I did not judge her. But I sorrowed for her. I again encouraged her to keep trying to forgive. She left irritated, undoubtedly feeling like I was asking too much of her. And perhaps I was at this time and place. I hope that some day she will be able to forgive and move on in her life! The story isn't over.
It is so humbling to work with these women. I sit in my chair and I counsel. I tell them things that I'm not so sure I am willing to do myself. I hear myself encouraging them to forgive. Have I forgiven all the offenses in my life? I can think of a few incidents that still bring up anger, irritation, frustration. Will I choose to forgive? Will I this day choose life? Or will I continue to let my pride dictate my choices?
My hope and prayer is to be an aroma of life. Forgiveness must prevail! I've got some work to do.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Making a difference
My job with the 'juvies' was nearing an end. The company had committed to the facility being a place for doctorate students completing their internships, so myself and the other master's level employee were informed the job would end in August. I feel confident that the Lord orchestrated the new job with the prison, but of course I was anxious and nervous to get the job.
My future boss called to offer me the job, but he made a comment first. He stated "you seem to me to be the type that needs to make a difference", the inference being that this population is difficult and I may not see much change. I told him that it is true that I need to know I am making a difference, and I would like to take the job and see what happens.
It's been 16 months. It is true that a majority of these women are not interested in change. They are interested in power, in control, in manipulation. They have bought in to returning evil for evil, to 'make you hurt like I hurt'. But that doesn't represent all the women incarcerated.
I have had quite few women come into the office truly seeking help, wanting to change and no longer be held captive by their broken souls. One woman comes to mind, and I would like to share it with you.
To protect her identity I will call her Shirley. The first several months she would sit in my office, withdrawn into herself, shaking, rocking, crying frequently, and fearful that she had 'gone crazy'. After a few sessions she began to talk more freely and started to share her story. She only shared bits and pieces. She said that her father always called her 'that crazy girl', and she looked at me with eyes that were pleading for an answer. Three separate times after intense sessions she would communicate with my boss and say that I'm not helping her and asked to change therapists. She was having difficulty with the depth of the sessions. The third time this happened I felt our therapeutic rlationship could handle a confrontation on her ambivalence, and after that confrontation she began to really dig in.
Over time she described a childhood of violence. While it also affected her sisters negatively, Shirley chose a dangerous response. One day when she was 12 years old, her mom, herself and her sisters went to a party. The parents were not together at this time,but had not ended the relationship. Her father was at the party and became enraged about something that happened at the party and followed them home. He started beating on the mother in a violent rage. Shirley's sisters ran to the bedroom to hide, while she did just the opposite. She went to the kitchen and got a frying pan, came back into the room and hit her father on the head, then ran for safety, locking herself in the bathroom. Her father came after her, demanding she open the door. She made a vow in her heart that very day and said it strongly to her father. "You lay a hand on me I'll kill you!"
And that set her up for her own life of violence. Here she sat in prison with a long sentence, having fulfilled her vow on a boyfriend. She has children of her own, and they are without their mother. She won't be there for graduations, for marriages, for the birth of grandchildren. Two of her children are doing well. One is struggling and on his own road to trouble. The cycle continues.
It's been over a year that she has been coming for counseling. As she tells her story, as she understands why she has felt so 'crazy' all these years, as she owns responsibility for her choices and makes new ones, change has come. With the help of medication she is much less anxious. She still cries frequently, but it's not the desperate tears of half a year ago.
She recently had a setback, getting mixed up in a relationship that became 'messy'. She reported that in the past she would have been feeling suicidal. Today she testifies that, though this has upset her, she has hope in her future, something to live for, and the years ahead seem bearable. She has much work to do, but states she now knows she's not crazy, just wounded, and has made changes to her life.
I fully believe that hope is a choice. Some will find a silver lining in every garbage heap they encounter. Others will find a garbage heap in every silver lining. Anyone wanting to choose hope can change, and change significantly, even while, literally or figuratively, sitting in a prison.
My future boss called to offer me the job, but he made a comment first. He stated "you seem to me to be the type that needs to make a difference", the inference being that this population is difficult and I may not see much change. I told him that it is true that I need to know I am making a difference, and I would like to take the job and see what happens.
It's been 16 months. It is true that a majority of these women are not interested in change. They are interested in power, in control, in manipulation. They have bought in to returning evil for evil, to 'make you hurt like I hurt'. But that doesn't represent all the women incarcerated.
I have had quite few women come into the office truly seeking help, wanting to change and no longer be held captive by their broken souls. One woman comes to mind, and I would like to share it with you.
To protect her identity I will call her Shirley. The first several months she would sit in my office, withdrawn into herself, shaking, rocking, crying frequently, and fearful that she had 'gone crazy'. After a few sessions she began to talk more freely and started to share her story. She only shared bits and pieces. She said that her father always called her 'that crazy girl', and she looked at me with eyes that were pleading for an answer. Three separate times after intense sessions she would communicate with my boss and say that I'm not helping her and asked to change therapists. She was having difficulty with the depth of the sessions. The third time this happened I felt our therapeutic rlationship could handle a confrontation on her ambivalence, and after that confrontation she began to really dig in.
Over time she described a childhood of violence. While it also affected her sisters negatively, Shirley chose a dangerous response. One day when she was 12 years old, her mom, herself and her sisters went to a party. The parents were not together at this time,but had not ended the relationship. Her father was at the party and became enraged about something that happened at the party and followed them home. He started beating on the mother in a violent rage. Shirley's sisters ran to the bedroom to hide, while she did just the opposite. She went to the kitchen and got a frying pan, came back into the room and hit her father on the head, then ran for safety, locking herself in the bathroom. Her father came after her, demanding she open the door. She made a vow in her heart that very day and said it strongly to her father. "You lay a hand on me I'll kill you!"
And that set her up for her own life of violence. Here she sat in prison with a long sentence, having fulfilled her vow on a boyfriend. She has children of her own, and they are without their mother. She won't be there for graduations, for marriages, for the birth of grandchildren. Two of her children are doing well. One is struggling and on his own road to trouble. The cycle continues.
It's been over a year that she has been coming for counseling. As she tells her story, as she understands why she has felt so 'crazy' all these years, as she owns responsibility for her choices and makes new ones, change has come. With the help of medication she is much less anxious. She still cries frequently, but it's not the desperate tears of half a year ago.
She recently had a setback, getting mixed up in a relationship that became 'messy'. She reported that in the past she would have been feeling suicidal. Today she testifies that, though this has upset her, she has hope in her future, something to live for, and the years ahead seem bearable. She has much work to do, but states she now knows she's not crazy, just wounded, and has made changes to her life.
I fully believe that hope is a choice. Some will find a silver lining in every garbage heap they encounter. Others will find a garbage heap in every silver lining. Anyone wanting to choose hope can change, and change significantly, even while, literally or figuratively, sitting in a prison.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Grandma and the Secret Weapon
I wrote this piece several years ago when I was participating in a story teller's club. It was written in the format for speaking in story form. It needs much work before ever being presented as a story teller, but thought I would post it anyway. I have been advised to break it down into two, perhaps three different stories, and perhaps someday I will.
Note: For those family members reading this….those early wounds of childhood have been healed. I love my family dearly, and miss Roger greatly. Growing up was hard on all of us, but maturity has brought stronger relationships. For this I am very grateful.
Grandma and the Secret Weapon
Growing up can be rough! None of us get to choose our families, our circumstances. I think we can all agree that childhood has its tough moments. Now, I know that, many times, our perceptions of our childhood tie in with our personality types. There are the Eor’s of Winnie the Pooh fame, who see life as one big black hole, and there are the Anne’s of Green Gables who never met a situation in life that couldn’t be made into glorious fantasy! The rest of us fall somewhere in between!
Now my family, like most American families, had it’s problems. Ours centered around Dad. Dad’s childhood was about as bad as they come. His Mom was about as cantankerous and crazy as you can imagine. The locals called his family white trash…perhaps for good reason. I don’t know what instigated it, but one time Granny tied dad to a bedpost and beat him so severely that the scalp was separated from his forehead and blood was flowing freely. His sisters were screaming and begging her to stop.
Dad would work hard in the cotton fields, dragging behind him 100 lb. bags of cotton, saving up his money for the car he had his eye on. And once he achieved his goal, he would drive around town, taking personal joy in passing the school bus in his convertible on his way to school. He showed them he wasn’t white trash!
Dad left home for good at the age of 17 when he came home one day to find his mom in bed with a young man his age. He was angry and said so. She was angry and threatened to call the police on him. He got in his car and never looked back. She died at the age of 76 from cirrhosis of the liver. Later in his life, once he was married and with us kids, Dad would try to be the good son and visit Granny on occasion. It never ended happily. And he was never able to fully forgive her the sins committed against him. He carried those wounds to his grave.
And he also carried those sins out on us!!! Though he never touched a drop of the alcohol that killed his mom, he could rage like an alcoholic just the same. And, of course, us kids learned to behave the same. On occasion fistfights would break out amongst my 3 older brothers. And it wasn’t uncommon to tease each other in such hateful ways, as only children can do. There isn’t much a child isn’t willing to say to another child that slices to the core, bringing tears, anger, rejection. I can remember once coming into the house after playing with my brothers, feeling wounded from their teasing and needing comfort from Mom. Her response to me was to teach me a little poem. I’m sure you’ve heard it…Sticks and Stones? Well, I took her words to heart, feeling prepared for the very next time it happened. And it didn’t take very long to get the opportunity. I stood up straight, hands on my hips, chin held high, and quoted “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”. And I waited to see their faces fall in defeat, knowing that I had gotten the best of them. And, instead, they fell over in laughter, and only teased louder. I never said the poem again. And their words continued to hurt.
Dad met mom in 1950 at a drive inn in Gainesville, Texas. He soon adopted her parents as his. And it was at Grandma and Papa’s that I have so many memories as a child growing up. Get togethers meant cramming into their small house for several days to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas, and any other time that we could make the 14 hour drive from the Rio Grand Valley to near the Oklahoma border. Us kids were always excited to see the aunts and uncles and the cousins…well, at least most of the cousins. There was one…oh my…how my heart loathed him for years to come. The king of cruelty was cousin Kirk! One Christmas he opened up his present from Grandma…Grandma didn’t have much money to speak of…she bought the presents from green stamps…and it was a pair of roller skates, the kind with the key that you tighten over your tennis shoes. We all got roller skates that year. As soon as he got outside from the celebration of opening presents, he held up the skates and in a loud clear voice that all the neighbor children could hear, he asked “Anyone want a pair of roller skates”? The ungrateful, spoiled little brat!
This ungrateful, spoiled little brat was also bigger and older than me. One evening, as we were all finding a place to bed down for the night, the cousins ended up in the living room, on the floor, trying to settle down and fall to sleep. The lights were out, and everyone was cuttin’ up like children do when they are all together in one room and fighting off sleep for one last joke. I was lying there, enjoying the banter, when in the soft glow of the street lamp outside the window, I see Cousin Kirk on all fours near my head. He lifts his back leg, like a dog at a tree, his crotch right in my face, and farts. Now, remember we all had our fathers temper. I was immediately up from my pallet, grabbing my pillow on the way up, and screaming “I’ll teach you a lesson” and fired away at him with that deadly feather pillow. Even in my fury I was afraid to hurt someone. I’m certain that feather pillow didn’t do much harm. But I kept swinging away as he just laid there and laughed harder and harder, my brothers joining in. For years to come my words came back to me from the smart mouth of Cousin Kirk…”I’ll teach you a lesson…hahaha”. Boy, I hated my Cousin Kirk.
Years later, after Kirk went to Rice University and earned a degree as a doctor, he was diagnosed with Wilson’s Disease. It’s a disorder where copper cannot be eliminated from the body. So the mineral just builds up in your body until it eventually kills you. Life expectancy isn’t much passed the 40’s. When I first heard this, I really didn’t feel much sympathy for him. After all, it’s Cousin Kirk. But his illness changed him. He road a motorcycle all the way from Texas to Southern California, where I was living at the time, and sat in the Jacuzzi with me and repented. He told me he had always been jealous of the Taylors and had wished that he had been a part of our family. To him we seemed normal, stable, warm, connected. And I suppose that was true, though I was struggling with family relationships at the time. It was an eye opening experience for me. I let go of my judgment and forgave him. He is still alive today, though his illness has left him disabled. He has to take medication to control seizures. He struggles functioning on his own, but he is determined to do so. He comes by on occasion, desiring to connect, quite eccentric, but loving.
Meanwhile, back at Grandma’s house. The visits there were always loud, full of smoke and 42, that marvelous domino game that is slowly being forgotten by the younger generations. Hours were spent around the dining room table, seeing who could beat Papa and his partner. Grandma would get so desperate to beat him that she developed a system to ‘talk under the table’ with my mom when they would play together. She would leave the number of fingers on one hand on the edge of the table to let mom know what suit she was strong in so that they would know if they could outbid Papa. Mom told me this years later. I would never have guessed this fine, upstanding, Baptist woman would lower herself to cheating at 42, but she did!
One night, when I was 12 and we were again at Grandma’s, it was getting close to bedtime. I was thirsty, so I went to the fridge for a Dr. Pepper. I took it out of the fridge and prepared to open it. Grandma saw me and quickly said, “now, Alice, don’t drink that this late, or you’ll wet the bed”. I looked at her and scoffed…. “Grandma, I’m not going to wet the bed”…after all, I was 12 years old! I hadn’t wet the bed in, what, 8, 9 years? I could hold my Dr. Pepper, thank you very much!
It must not have been a trip with a lot of people, because that night I got to sleep with Grandma. Now, sleeping with Grandma was an adventure! For one thing, she snored loudly enough to make the windows rattle. And for another, her bed was ancient. When she laid her much larger body on the bed next to mine, the bed was tilted by several inches her direction! It was like trying to go to sleep on the side of a hill! I would jump between the sheets and, hanging on to the edge of the bed, and try so desperately to fall asleep first. I could usually talk her into telling me a story before falling to sleep. I rarely would fall asleep first, but I would certainly try.
In the wee hours of the morning I began to dream. I was back home, in the backyard, and there was a fox hole and I was in it, with another kid, and there was a war going on! A big WWII kind of war that I had seen on the movies with John Wayne. And I was the carrier of a secret weapon. All I had to do was wait for the command to release the secret weapon and we would win the war.
The time came. The call went out! “Release the secret weapon”!!!! And release it I did! The next thing I know I am startled awake by my grandma saying “whoop, whoop, whoop” and jumping out of bed, her night gown soaked from my secret weapon.
I sheepishly got out of bed and helped her clean up, completely humbled by my grandmother’s greater wisdom!
Years went by. I can remember telling the story to friends. I would tell the story and my friends and I would just laugh and laugh at the silliness of the dream, my secret weapon, and my Grandma’s ‘whoop, whoop, whoop’.
In 1993 I got a phone call that Grandma had passed away. I was now living in Northern California, much of the difficult family relationships now healed, and I packed my bag for the flight back to Texas to burry my grandmother. So many memories flooded my mind, and I journaled out my tears as the miles quickly passed beneath the plane. A simple song I had learned played over and over in my mind…
Because You gave Your life
And paid my price
You died for me
God’s perfect sacrifice
I will live forever, evermore, forevermore
Because you shed your blood
And took my blame
Oh, lamb of God
You washed away my shame
I will live forever, 3x’s
evermore, forevermore
And I will praise you, worship you
And serve you, forevermore
Because you rose again
To God’s right hand
Death could not hold You
Sinless Son of Man
I will live forever, evermore, forevermore
And when you come again
And trumpets blare
The dead will rise and meet You in the air
I will live forever, 3x’s
evermore, evermore
…and I could see my grandmother free at last from the Alzheimer’s that took away her quality of life those last few years. I could see her dancing in the arms of Jesus, at peace, full of life, and it was a comfort to my heart.
The funeral was a normal funeral. Nothing special that I remember in particular. I do remember that the old woman in the casket didn’t look much at all like my grandmother. I did take one of the plants and carry it with me back on the plane to California. And it has made it back to Texas these many years later. It still thrives in the corner by the dining room windows.
What I do remember very clearly was going back to the hotel, and all of us gathering in one room. We told Grandma stories and reminisced the good ol’ days on 301 Belcher Street. We all had our favorite stories. And I decided to tell mine. I thought I was just repeating an oft’ told story, but the family sat there enraptured, bursting out into laughter when I got to the ‘whoop, whoop, whoop’….and I then realized an amazing thing! My grandmother had not told a soul!!!! If it had been anyone else I had released my secret weapon on, I would have never stopped hearing about it. But my Grandmother didn’t shame me. She saw my embarrassment and knew it was enough.
I hadn’t realize while she was still living what a wonderful gift she had given me. But in her death, as we sat around talking about our beloved Grandma, I was overwhelmed by a deep feeling of love and appreciation, that someone in my family in those early years would honor me rather than shame me. My heart swelled up with gratitude, and in my journal that night, I thanked her while I watched her dancing in the arms of Jesus.
Note: For those family members reading this….those early wounds of childhood have been healed. I love my family dearly, and miss Roger greatly. Growing up was hard on all of us, but maturity has brought stronger relationships. For this I am very grateful.
Grandma and the Secret Weapon
Growing up can be rough! None of us get to choose our families, our circumstances. I think we can all agree that childhood has its tough moments. Now, I know that, many times, our perceptions of our childhood tie in with our personality types. There are the Eor’s of Winnie the Pooh fame, who see life as one big black hole, and there are the Anne’s of Green Gables who never met a situation in life that couldn’t be made into glorious fantasy! The rest of us fall somewhere in between!
Now my family, like most American families, had it’s problems. Ours centered around Dad. Dad’s childhood was about as bad as they come. His Mom was about as cantankerous and crazy as you can imagine. The locals called his family white trash…perhaps for good reason. I don’t know what instigated it, but one time Granny tied dad to a bedpost and beat him so severely that the scalp was separated from his forehead and blood was flowing freely. His sisters were screaming and begging her to stop.
Dad would work hard in the cotton fields, dragging behind him 100 lb. bags of cotton, saving up his money for the car he had his eye on. And once he achieved his goal, he would drive around town, taking personal joy in passing the school bus in his convertible on his way to school. He showed them he wasn’t white trash!
Dad left home for good at the age of 17 when he came home one day to find his mom in bed with a young man his age. He was angry and said so. She was angry and threatened to call the police on him. He got in his car and never looked back. She died at the age of 76 from cirrhosis of the liver. Later in his life, once he was married and with us kids, Dad would try to be the good son and visit Granny on occasion. It never ended happily. And he was never able to fully forgive her the sins committed against him. He carried those wounds to his grave.
And he also carried those sins out on us!!! Though he never touched a drop of the alcohol that killed his mom, he could rage like an alcoholic just the same. And, of course, us kids learned to behave the same. On occasion fistfights would break out amongst my 3 older brothers. And it wasn’t uncommon to tease each other in such hateful ways, as only children can do. There isn’t much a child isn’t willing to say to another child that slices to the core, bringing tears, anger, rejection. I can remember once coming into the house after playing with my brothers, feeling wounded from their teasing and needing comfort from Mom. Her response to me was to teach me a little poem. I’m sure you’ve heard it…Sticks and Stones? Well, I took her words to heart, feeling prepared for the very next time it happened. And it didn’t take very long to get the opportunity. I stood up straight, hands on my hips, chin held high, and quoted “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”. And I waited to see their faces fall in defeat, knowing that I had gotten the best of them. And, instead, they fell over in laughter, and only teased louder. I never said the poem again. And their words continued to hurt.
Dad met mom in 1950 at a drive inn in Gainesville, Texas. He soon adopted her parents as his. And it was at Grandma and Papa’s that I have so many memories as a child growing up. Get togethers meant cramming into their small house for several days to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas, and any other time that we could make the 14 hour drive from the Rio Grand Valley to near the Oklahoma border. Us kids were always excited to see the aunts and uncles and the cousins…well, at least most of the cousins. There was one…oh my…how my heart loathed him for years to come. The king of cruelty was cousin Kirk! One Christmas he opened up his present from Grandma…Grandma didn’t have much money to speak of…she bought the presents from green stamps…and it was a pair of roller skates, the kind with the key that you tighten over your tennis shoes. We all got roller skates that year. As soon as he got outside from the celebration of opening presents, he held up the skates and in a loud clear voice that all the neighbor children could hear, he asked “Anyone want a pair of roller skates”? The ungrateful, spoiled little brat!
This ungrateful, spoiled little brat was also bigger and older than me. One evening, as we were all finding a place to bed down for the night, the cousins ended up in the living room, on the floor, trying to settle down and fall to sleep. The lights were out, and everyone was cuttin’ up like children do when they are all together in one room and fighting off sleep for one last joke. I was lying there, enjoying the banter, when in the soft glow of the street lamp outside the window, I see Cousin Kirk on all fours near my head. He lifts his back leg, like a dog at a tree, his crotch right in my face, and farts. Now, remember we all had our fathers temper. I was immediately up from my pallet, grabbing my pillow on the way up, and screaming “I’ll teach you a lesson” and fired away at him with that deadly feather pillow. Even in my fury I was afraid to hurt someone. I’m certain that feather pillow didn’t do much harm. But I kept swinging away as he just laid there and laughed harder and harder, my brothers joining in. For years to come my words came back to me from the smart mouth of Cousin Kirk…”I’ll teach you a lesson…hahaha”. Boy, I hated my Cousin Kirk.
Years later, after Kirk went to Rice University and earned a degree as a doctor, he was diagnosed with Wilson’s Disease. It’s a disorder where copper cannot be eliminated from the body. So the mineral just builds up in your body until it eventually kills you. Life expectancy isn’t much passed the 40’s. When I first heard this, I really didn’t feel much sympathy for him. After all, it’s Cousin Kirk. But his illness changed him. He road a motorcycle all the way from Texas to Southern California, where I was living at the time, and sat in the Jacuzzi with me and repented. He told me he had always been jealous of the Taylors and had wished that he had been a part of our family. To him we seemed normal, stable, warm, connected. And I suppose that was true, though I was struggling with family relationships at the time. It was an eye opening experience for me. I let go of my judgment and forgave him. He is still alive today, though his illness has left him disabled. He has to take medication to control seizures. He struggles functioning on his own, but he is determined to do so. He comes by on occasion, desiring to connect, quite eccentric, but loving.
Meanwhile, back at Grandma’s house. The visits there were always loud, full of smoke and 42, that marvelous domino game that is slowly being forgotten by the younger generations. Hours were spent around the dining room table, seeing who could beat Papa and his partner. Grandma would get so desperate to beat him that she developed a system to ‘talk under the table’ with my mom when they would play together. She would leave the number of fingers on one hand on the edge of the table to let mom know what suit she was strong in so that they would know if they could outbid Papa. Mom told me this years later. I would never have guessed this fine, upstanding, Baptist woman would lower herself to cheating at 42, but she did!
One night, when I was 12 and we were again at Grandma’s, it was getting close to bedtime. I was thirsty, so I went to the fridge for a Dr. Pepper. I took it out of the fridge and prepared to open it. Grandma saw me and quickly said, “now, Alice, don’t drink that this late, or you’ll wet the bed”. I looked at her and scoffed…. “Grandma, I’m not going to wet the bed”…after all, I was 12 years old! I hadn’t wet the bed in, what, 8, 9 years? I could hold my Dr. Pepper, thank you very much!
It must not have been a trip with a lot of people, because that night I got to sleep with Grandma. Now, sleeping with Grandma was an adventure! For one thing, she snored loudly enough to make the windows rattle. And for another, her bed was ancient. When she laid her much larger body on the bed next to mine, the bed was tilted by several inches her direction! It was like trying to go to sleep on the side of a hill! I would jump between the sheets and, hanging on to the edge of the bed, and try so desperately to fall asleep first. I could usually talk her into telling me a story before falling to sleep. I rarely would fall asleep first, but I would certainly try.
In the wee hours of the morning I began to dream. I was back home, in the backyard, and there was a fox hole and I was in it, with another kid, and there was a war going on! A big WWII kind of war that I had seen on the movies with John Wayne. And I was the carrier of a secret weapon. All I had to do was wait for the command to release the secret weapon and we would win the war.
The time came. The call went out! “Release the secret weapon”!!!! And release it I did! The next thing I know I am startled awake by my grandma saying “whoop, whoop, whoop” and jumping out of bed, her night gown soaked from my secret weapon.
I sheepishly got out of bed and helped her clean up, completely humbled by my grandmother’s greater wisdom!
Years went by. I can remember telling the story to friends. I would tell the story and my friends and I would just laugh and laugh at the silliness of the dream, my secret weapon, and my Grandma’s ‘whoop, whoop, whoop’.
In 1993 I got a phone call that Grandma had passed away. I was now living in Northern California, much of the difficult family relationships now healed, and I packed my bag for the flight back to Texas to burry my grandmother. So many memories flooded my mind, and I journaled out my tears as the miles quickly passed beneath the plane. A simple song I had learned played over and over in my mind…
Because You gave Your life
And paid my price
You died for me
God’s perfect sacrifice
I will live forever, evermore, forevermore
Because you shed your blood
And took my blame
Oh, lamb of God
You washed away my shame
I will live forever, 3x’s
evermore, forevermore
And I will praise you, worship you
And serve you, forevermore
Because you rose again
To God’s right hand
Death could not hold You
Sinless Son of Man
I will live forever, evermore, forevermore
And when you come again
And trumpets blare
The dead will rise and meet You in the air
I will live forever, 3x’s
evermore, evermore
…and I could see my grandmother free at last from the Alzheimer’s that took away her quality of life those last few years. I could see her dancing in the arms of Jesus, at peace, full of life, and it was a comfort to my heart.
The funeral was a normal funeral. Nothing special that I remember in particular. I do remember that the old woman in the casket didn’t look much at all like my grandmother. I did take one of the plants and carry it with me back on the plane to California. And it has made it back to Texas these many years later. It still thrives in the corner by the dining room windows.
What I do remember very clearly was going back to the hotel, and all of us gathering in one room. We told Grandma stories and reminisced the good ol’ days on 301 Belcher Street. We all had our favorite stories. And I decided to tell mine. I thought I was just repeating an oft’ told story, but the family sat there enraptured, bursting out into laughter when I got to the ‘whoop, whoop, whoop’….and I then realized an amazing thing! My grandmother had not told a soul!!!! If it had been anyone else I had released my secret weapon on, I would have never stopped hearing about it. But my Grandmother didn’t shame me. She saw my embarrassment and knew it was enough.
I hadn’t realize while she was still living what a wonderful gift she had given me. But in her death, as we sat around talking about our beloved Grandma, I was overwhelmed by a deep feeling of love and appreciation, that someone in my family in those early years would honor me rather than shame me. My heart swelled up with gratitude, and in my journal that night, I thanked her while I watched her dancing in the arms of Jesus.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thanksgiving
It's that time of year when families plan to spend time with extended family members. It's the busiest travel time of the year. Thanksgiving is a great idea; a time to reflect and be thankful for all the good things that we have experienced this year; a time to be grateful for our blessings, and in particular, grateful for family and friends.
I will admit that the older I get the harder these vacation times are. I don't regret the direction my life has taken, for I truly cannot see how it could have been any different, and being single has it's benefits. Yet, truth is, I did not marry and I did not bear children. My brothers have all married and have born children and have or are still raising them. Their lives are very different from mine. To celebrate Thanksgiving means visiting with one or the other, as the whole family no longer gets together on Thanksgiving, and haven't for years. If I had my own family I'm sure it would be the same. So be it. But it brings a certain since of loss to my heart, the loss of experiencing my own family and the intimacy it brings.
Last year we lost our brother, which none of us has fully accepted. His family is feeling the loss keenly as this holiday season approaches. They will be celebrating their first Thanksgiving without him. I can only imagine their sense of loss, the feelings of being cheated from years of relationship that should have been theirs. I know I feel that as well, but this is their father, their husband. The loss is so much deeper. I am so grateful they have a deep love for one another, that both sons chose excellent spouses, and that they will support one another through this difficult time. And I'm so thankful that Roger's impact on their lives was so deep and meaningful. His shortened life was well lived.
There are so many things to be thankful for! I am so very thankful that my parents raised all of us to love the Lord. We have each had our unique journeys in our faith, but faith remains. I am grateful for fabulous family members with whom real and intimate relationships have been established, and hoping that more can be developed. I am grateful for good health and all the benefits that it brings. I am extremely grateful for a career that finally satisfies the hunger in my heart to make a difference in people's lives! That has been a long long long time in coming! But here it is! I'm so very thankful!
I am thankful that the Lord saw fit to find me in California and place me in a healing community. Those years remain intensely precious to me, as I learned so much and received so much healing that I could truly fill a book with all the blessings! Thank you Jesus, for loving me so well!
I am also very much thankful for God's absolute wisdom in creating animals, and in particular, dogs. What amazing companions. They are designed specifically to bring joy and comfort to the heart. I am thankful that almost 8 years ago He brought the perfect dog for me to my house as a starving stray. She has been a wonderful companion. And, since I am gone so much, I found another pup to keep her company. I'm grateful that they are both in good health and that they love me so well.
I am thankful for friends, several friends in particular (some are family members) who have stuck with me through the good and bad, and me with them. There is nothing more healing than having someone still love you even when the ugly, the bent, the difficult side of myself raises it's ugly head and threatens healthy relationships. And I, them, in return. Thank you Jesus for this reflection of Your unconditional love! I am thankful.
Yes, holidays are a bit harder for me than years past. But I am thankful for the lessons to learn and the opportunity to turn sadness into joy! There is so very much that we can all celebrate! Let the celebrations begin!
I will admit that the older I get the harder these vacation times are. I don't regret the direction my life has taken, for I truly cannot see how it could have been any different, and being single has it's benefits. Yet, truth is, I did not marry and I did not bear children. My brothers have all married and have born children and have or are still raising them. Their lives are very different from mine. To celebrate Thanksgiving means visiting with one or the other, as the whole family no longer gets together on Thanksgiving, and haven't for years. If I had my own family I'm sure it would be the same. So be it. But it brings a certain since of loss to my heart, the loss of experiencing my own family and the intimacy it brings.
Last year we lost our brother, which none of us has fully accepted. His family is feeling the loss keenly as this holiday season approaches. They will be celebrating their first Thanksgiving without him. I can only imagine their sense of loss, the feelings of being cheated from years of relationship that should have been theirs. I know I feel that as well, but this is their father, their husband. The loss is so much deeper. I am so grateful they have a deep love for one another, that both sons chose excellent spouses, and that they will support one another through this difficult time. And I'm so thankful that Roger's impact on their lives was so deep and meaningful. His shortened life was well lived.
There are so many things to be thankful for! I am so very thankful that my parents raised all of us to love the Lord. We have each had our unique journeys in our faith, but faith remains. I am grateful for fabulous family members with whom real and intimate relationships have been established, and hoping that more can be developed. I am grateful for good health and all the benefits that it brings. I am extremely grateful for a career that finally satisfies the hunger in my heart to make a difference in people's lives! That has been a long long long time in coming! But here it is! I'm so very thankful!
I am thankful that the Lord saw fit to find me in California and place me in a healing community. Those years remain intensely precious to me, as I learned so much and received so much healing that I could truly fill a book with all the blessings! Thank you Jesus, for loving me so well!
I am also very much thankful for God's absolute wisdom in creating animals, and in particular, dogs. What amazing companions. They are designed specifically to bring joy and comfort to the heart. I am thankful that almost 8 years ago He brought the perfect dog for me to my house as a starving stray. She has been a wonderful companion. And, since I am gone so much, I found another pup to keep her company. I'm grateful that they are both in good health and that they love me so well.
I am thankful for friends, several friends in particular (some are family members) who have stuck with me through the good and bad, and me with them. There is nothing more healing than having someone still love you even when the ugly, the bent, the difficult side of myself raises it's ugly head and threatens healthy relationships. And I, them, in return. Thank you Jesus for this reflection of Your unconditional love! I am thankful.
Yes, holidays are a bit harder for me than years past. But I am thankful for the lessons to learn and the opportunity to turn sadness into joy! There is so very much that we can all celebrate! Let the celebrations begin!
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