You are made for so much more than all of this

It's funny, the chain of events and people who lead us to the changes in life, both good and bad, which bring us lessons and ultimately new-found strength and renewal. We face adversity, reach a state of hopelessness and feelings of loss and teeter on that dangerous knife's edge, upon which we must decide whether to dissolve ourselves into the chaotic abyss of despair, or to fall into faith, hope and overcoming fear.

It may seem odd that regaining hope and faith are the more difficult option, but in reality it takes great strength to let go of the past and allow faith to replace worry and fear. Being weak, allowing chaos to take over - that's easy. You don't have to work at being afraid. You just allow it to come in and take over your life. Fighting fear takes energy and stamina, two things that depression and pain drain you of.

God brings things into our life with a purpose and the intent of helping us to combat all of this. People and events are brought into our lives for a reason. Nothing is by chance, but it's up to us to choose the paths of our own lives. Our choice in paths can make our life journey very smooth and easy or very, very difficult. Not everything is a choice on our own parts, but everything does happen for a reason: birth, death, love, loss, joy, hardship, knowledge, pain.

My beginnings obviously weren't my own choice. I hadn't chosen to be abused or neglected, and ultimately rejected by my own family. Those experiences, however, have given me a compassion and understanding I would not have had without them. Though I have long recognized these hardships as learning experiences, I have also wallowed for much of my life in the pain they caused. I have made unsound choices which only resulted in further torment and hardship in my life.

I have spent the majority of my life fighting. I've fought not just those who've hurt me, but because I was so used to having to fight for love and respect, I've also fought those who've loved me. I've fought for love, for respect, for my own dignity. In my quest to fight for the help and understanding I sought for so long, I ended up fighting those who truly wanted to help me. I've fought my friends and mentors, and even myself.

When I wasn't fighting I was hiding myself away. My typical reaction to stress is to hermit myself away, hide from the harshness of the world and lock myself in my own little bubble. Me against the world - and life. When you've lived in fear and pain, you haven't really lived at all.

When you feel worthless and you're used to fighting, you tend to take on ventures that give you a sense of purpose and accomplishment. Something that tells the world you've been here, done something worth doing. In my case, it is Soldiers' Angels. If I've never had anything to offer, anything worth giving, then at least compassionate philanthropy is something I do have to give. When you know pain and loss and hardship, you can better relate to those who endure it, even if it's of a different category than your own.

Through the volunteer work with this organization, I met Shelle, a very strong and no-nonsense woman who has in turn introduced me to many more strong and beautiful women who have also persevered through hardship, each journeying through pain and loss into their own forms of healing and rebirth. One of these women is Jodi Rae, a sweet, loving, kind and compassionate woman who has no doubt endured considerable tribulation herself.

Jodi Rae authored a book, The Blonde On The Prairie, detailing her journey to overcome those trials and rise above them. Over a lunch with Logan, a dear friend in his own right, Jodi Rae signed a copy of her book which Logan then sent on to me. Even from the very first page, I knew they'd both seen straight through to my heart at a critical time when I had nearly begun to slip back into that abyss.

"It took great and powerful adversity for me to end up broken and discouraged, feeling un-loved and not worthy. That same adversity forced a mighty resilience in me to fight back and go on living.

When I began to live, I began to know love. Love yielded laughter. Laughter exploded into healing."

- From The Blonde On The Prairie, by Jodi Rae Ingstad

Jodi Rae, I believe that Shelle instinctively knew somehow that you and all of those other strong and beautiful women would hold the keys to bringing back the me that adversity tried so hard to destroy. Thank you for sharing your joy with me when I needed it most. I'm going to try leaving my barn door open, and let the joy come back in.


Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him. - James 1:12

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For My Mother

I love my mom. As crazy as my family is and as much energy as I've spent trying to extricate myself from the madness of my past, my mother is still very important to me.

In the past I've written about some less-than-palatable times we've had. Yes, there were many. We've fought, we've turned our backs on each other for years at a time... and sometimes worse. Though our childhood was volatile and many times chaotic, with Mother's Day coming up this weekend I wanted to share more of her "whole person" with you.

My mother is beautiful. Large, brown doe-eyes and brown hair and with olive colored skin. Many people have said we look very much alike in features, except that I am more of a photo-negative of her coloring. She is young, but looks far younger than her years.

My mother instilled in me my love of crafting. Growing up, my mother was always creating things. She sewed clothing, quilts, even playthings and costumes for us. We were Raggedy Ann and Andy, Smurfs and many other characters. She made us incredibly beautiful Easter dresses and detailed embroidered baby quilts. She macraméd everything from wall-hangings to doll swings, and back in the 1970s we made flower arrangements from fake fur and floral wire.

My mother put her all into creatively embellishing everything she had a hand in. I remember one winter we were building a snow-person family, when one snow-man's head rolled off and got stuck between two of the snow men's bodies. We tried to pull it out, but they'd become frozen together. My ever-resourceful mom took advantage of this and disappeared into the house, returning with bottlecaps, a scarf and a jump rope. Our family of snowmen was quickly transformed into a snow horse, complete with reigns, harness and saddle. We kids took turns sitting on our horse while mom took pictures.

For my brother's baby quilt, my mother embroidered (before technology like an embroidery machine) a large diesel truck with all our nicknames onto it. She then made matching baby blocks for it in coordinating fabric. It was an amazing sight and looking back, it's amazing to think of the work and detail she put into it.

My mother and I are much alike in other ways, as well. We're both professional worriers, both have a tendency to panic (initially) in the face of adversity, and both turn into bulldogs to face that adversity down once we've gotten our bearings and taken hold of the situation. We've been through the same things, gotten ourselves into the same situations and struggled with the same issues. We've both had more than our share of bad times, both been "gluttons for punishment" and both punished ourselves for far too long for our mistakes. I've spent a lifetime being angry and focusing on the hurt. It was infuriating to me that she'd seemingly allowed so much to happen to her, and to us. Being the oldest of her four children only exacerbated my frustration. I wanted to fix it for her, to stand up for her, and stand up to her. I grew up resenting her for those mistakes, but having gone through many of them (and more) as an adult, I've realized her position - and that's it's not always as easy to "fix" as it might seem.

I've also realized that most other families (if not all) have their own skeletons. Our family is not perfect, and not at all close to one another. Most of us tend to distrust one another and the internal family wars go back several generations. There's been abuse of all kinds, the pitting of one against another, mistakes have been made and hurtful words and rumors spread. It's so easy to look at all of the mess and tell yourself they're fiendish, malicious and rotten.

The truth of the matter is, they're simply human.

If we were all defined only by our mistakes, most people would never venture outside their own homes. How many of us have never made a bad decision? Anyone who says they haven't is either in denial or a terrible liar. There are plenty of reasons and even more excuses for our behavior, but the fact remains the same: Nobody's perfect.

While I don't condone many of the issues our family has, I do accept that we all have imperfections. I have plenty of them, and plenty of regrets. I've not been a perfect mother - not by a long shot. But my experiences as a mother have taught me that regardless of the mistakes and bad decisions, we've all done our best to make the right ones based on our mindset at the time. Being wrong is a part of life. Horrible experiences are a part of life. And regrets, worry and mistakes are a part of motherhood.

I love my mother. I love her with all my heart. And though she is already aware of it, I will be there for her and love her and if she needs me to, I will take care of her.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

Love,

Your most petulant, quarrelsome and rebellious daughter, who's been there too and understands.

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