Becoming Karen

Today I don’t feel like writing.  I want to go back to bed, pull the covers up, and just wait for another day. 

I hate days like this.  Days when I think, I’m not enough.  Days when I think, I can’t do this. Days when all I can think about is how I messed up.  Days when I would like to quit. 

I know that it’s just the old tapes and Satan trying to discourage and derail me.  But knowing that is not enough to stop the lies circling my brain.  I need something more powerful than mere knowledge.  I need SOMEONE more powerful.  And that someone is God….

Amazingly, He will sometimes use people to help get me out of my cycle of shame and disappointment.  Today He is using my children.

It’s Spring break so my kids are home, including my oldest.  As I watch them laugh and talk, I am reminded of the incredible blessing they are.  The blessing I wasn’t sure I would ever have.  The blessing I was sure I couldn’t handle.  The blessing I was sure I would mess up.  Yet, here they are because God was faithful, merciful, and gracious.  And that trumps the lies every time!

When I was younger, I would have defined family as broken, dysfunctional, frustrating, hurtful,  and virtually nonexistent. 

My father left my mom when I was very young.  For many years it was just her and I.  There came a time, though, when she wanted to share her life with someone.  The problem was that she didn’t choose wisely when it came to men.  They hurt her and they hurt me.  She finally came to the conclusion that marriage was not for her.  She told me that if she talked of marriage again, I was to do whatever it took to stop her.  So twelve years ago when she said that she was getting married, I was angry.  I called and told her sternly (I yelled) that she should not get married again.  She ignored my pleading and married.  I had no idea that he would be the man God would use to redefine my family.

Over the years, I watched as he loved my mom well.  He spoke well of her whether she was present or not.  He was patient and kind.  He was forgiving.  He treated her with grace and dignity.  And when she got sick, he did all he could to care for her.  He was the man she had always deserved.

Then something remarkable happened when my mom died.  Instead of my family getting smaller, it grew into something wonderful!  Upon her death, her husband made a promise; we would be a family….always, no matter what. 

Incredibly, I have experienced a greater sense of family since her death.  There is a closeness, a love, a caring for one another that has grown exponentially.  Even his family has embraced us and welcomed us.  I only wish my mom was a part of this transformation.  It’s the family she always wanted to create for her children.   A family that still has its problems, but is now defined by love, laughter, and encouragement.

What would you tell your younger you?  That’s the question I asked my family.  One of my sons said, ‘I would tell myself that I didn’t have enough room.’  I turned to him, puzzled.  ‘You know, when I hit you in the head with the golf club.’  Oh, how I remembered….

Several years ago after his golf lesson, I was showing his older sister how to hold a club and swing.  Unknown to me, he too was practicing his swing right next to me.  All of the sudden I felt a blinding hit to my head.  It brought me to my knees.  I saw stars and blood began to flow.  He and my daughter looked on in horror.  They thought he had killed me.  He didn’t.  I just needed a couple of staples, some ibuprofen, and a couple of days rest. It took my kids a lot longer to recover.  

That’s how it is when our perception is off and we miscalculate.  It can lead us to startling and even devastating consequences.  ‘I thought I had enough money for retirement’ as you head out the door to a new job at 70.  ‘I thought I could trust her’ when your secret is now the talk of the office.  ‘I thought I was smart enough to not make that mistake’ as you realize you got taken in by a swindler.  ‘I thought I could get away with that’ as your spouse finds out just how much you spent at the mall.  ‘I thought I could take care of that myself’ as you realize you are in way over your head.  ‘I thought I had more time’ as you look at your loved one in the casket.

Miscalculations…they are unnerving.  They remind us of our  humanness, our fragility, and our need for grace.  And how sweet that grace is when we come up short.  It covers us as we deal with the consequences.  It tells us we are not defined by our mistakes.  It tells us we are forgiven.  It tells us that we are still loved and valued.  It heals and restores.   Grace, take it in deeply and then share it with someone who needs it…     

I saw a story the other day where a girl’s high school basketball team let their manager with special needs play in the last game of the season.  The coach talked to the other team about her playing.  They agreed that they would give the girl a little more room and grace during the game.  She was able to make at least one basket and was thrilled about getting to play.  It’s a story we’ve heard before… The boy with down syndrome gets asked to prom.  The girl with disabilities is crowned homecoming queen.  The sports manager gets to make the winning shot.  Those kinds of stories usually make me cry.

But I have to be honest.  Even though I like hearing the stories of special things done for our special kids, they frustrate me.  I think it’s great that these kids get a star moment, but as a mom, I want more for my son.  He doesn’t want to play for some time in the last game of the season, he wants a chance to play some during the entire season.  He doesn’t want to get asked to prom just because it’s nice, he wants to go with someone who wants a relationship with him.  He doesn’t want to be asked to hang out for one special occasion, he wants to be asked on a regular basis.

My son knows that he’s different, but isn’t really sure what makes him so.  He’s friendly and nice, but he knows that he doesn’t get invited to do things like his siblings.  He tries to be social and follow the norms, but knows that he falls short somehow.  It’s heartbreaking to watch.  So while I appreciate all the special days, I want more.  And so does my son…

Have you ever felt like you’ve lost a year?  You know you lived it.  You got up, ate breakfast, did stuff, went home, ate dinner, did more stuff, went to bed.  And you did that over and over until 365 days had gone by.  But when you looked back, you realized that you hadn’t done what you had really wanted or dreamed of doing.  You had just been marking time.

That’s how it’s been for me the past year or so. I had been doing the things that needed to get done to keep the house running and the kids alive, but had done little with my dream.  It’s not because my family hadn’t supported me or my dream. It’s not because I suddenly became over run with activity and didn’t have time.  I had just slowly pulled back from pursuing my passion.  And I had some great reasons why.  I had five teenagers which kept life active.  My oldest daughter was a senior and getting ready to go off to college.  My mom was diagnosed with cancer and was close to my home.  All of those things were true and became easy responses to the questions about why I wasn’t writing.  But they were only excuses.  Reasons stuffed with lies. You know the lies I’m talking about…. You can’t do it.  You aren’t enough.   You don’t have what it takes.  There are at least 50,000 other people who can do it better.  Who do you think you are?

Then something happened.  My mom died.  And at the time of her death, she had a lot of unfinished projects, mostly quilts.  Not because she had been putting them off, but because she ran out of time.  (Thankfully, she made arrangements for others to finish the quilts for the quad’s graduation next year.)   As I looked at the packed boxes of material and patterns she had organized, I thought of my own unfinished projects.  My own unchased dreams.  Why would I put off doing what I love if I’m still here and have the gift of time? 

So I’ve decided to ignore the lies and pursue my dream of writing.  I have to admit, there are still days where the lies seep in.  I’m learning to take them captive and throw them out.  It’s hard work.  And it’s scary.  But I am determined to keep going while I still have time….

I like watching What Not To Wear while I eat lunch.  I love how the hosts, Stacy and Clinton, help people realize the potential in themselves, to accept who and where they are in life, and to dress the body they have, not the body they wish they had.  It’s fun to see not only the physical transformation, but the emotional one.  I’ve been struck by the number of women on the show who, when asked why they dress the way they do, say that they are trying to fly under the radar or blend into the background.  They feel invisible.

I know that feeling.  Those times when I’ve questioned whether anyone even knew I was in the room.  Or if any one would really miss me if I were gone.  That is a lonely, miserable place to be.

What I found was that as I accepted my invisible status, I withdrew and isolated.  I convinced myself that I really wasn’t all that important and wouldn’t be missed so I became detached and withdrew.  What’s interesting is that as I withdrew, some of my friends saw that as a reflection of their invisibility.  They began to think that they lacked value and weren’t missed.  So the cycle of isolation and invisibility spiraled until the loneliness filled our lives. 

The wonderful truth is that we are seen….always.  God is the God who sees.  He sees where we’ve been, where we are now, and where we will go.  And it’s more than just our location.  He sees our heart…..our wounds, our fears, our failures, our joys, our triumphs, our everything.  He sees it all and loves us deeply.  We are not invisible; we are highly valued children of the Most High God….

We live in a world where bad things happen.  There’s injury to the body and mind, wounds caused by others and ourselves, sickness, death.  With all of the bad, a question begs to be answered…’Is Jesus enough?’ 

The question is asked by believer and non believer alike as we grasp for something firm to hold on to so as not to be swept away by the mud slide.  Is He enough to get me through this?  Is He enough as I battle cancer?  Is He enough as I deal with divorce?  Is He enough as I raise my children?  Is He enough as I mourn?  Is He enough as I face my own death?  Is He enough?

As I watched my mom in the last few hours of her life, I asked myself this question.  She had gotten to the point where she could probably still hear us, but was no longer responding to anyone’s voice or presence.  I thought about my desire to be there as she died, not wanting her to be alone.  That’s when God reminded me that she was never alone.  He was always with her.  He would be there at her passing and He would be there to usher her into Heaven because of what Jesus did on the cross.  Jesus had loved her and redeemed her.  Jesus had made her a daughter.  Jesus had given her access to the Father.  Jesus made it possible for her to spend eternity in heaven.  Jesus was enough for her.

And He continues to be enough for us.  He is there in the grieving, comforting and providing.  He is there in the struggles, offering wisdom and hope.  He is there in the battles, giving strength and perseverance.  He there in the relationships, offering restoration and healing.  He is in the midst of all that we face.  We are not alone.  Jesus is enough…

My brother, sister, and I were eating breakfast in the hotel lobby.  I sat there watching people come and go.  Some were families.  Some were business people.  All had places to go, people to see, and things to do.  I thought how odd it was that their lives where going on as usually after every thing that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. 

The night before, our mom had died.  Our world had changed.  Life was going to be different.  There would be no more mother’s day cards to buy.  She would no longer be present at family functions.  She would no longer be there to tell my sister what medicine to take when she was feeling sick and didn’t have time to go to the doctor.  She would no longer be there to answer questions about her past.  She was gone.  And yet, no one else seemed to notice.  Their lives were just as they had been the day before. 

That’s how it usually happens.  Your world gets turned upside down, but the rest of the world just keeps going.  It makes a woman want to scream…’Don’t you know what happened?  Don’t you care?  How can you go on as if nothing has changed?!’  But the world doesn’t stop.  It just keeps moving along.  And somehow, so must we; adjusting to the new normal we’ve been given…. 

Sometimes deep wounds healed over time can be overlooked….

During the last days of my mom’s life, my sister and I had wonderful opportunities to talk.  Some were light and surface level, others were deep and rich.  During one time of digging deeper, my sister asked if I had any desire to find and meet my biological father and his two daughters.  I said no.  Then she asked me a question I hadn’t thought of asking myself….why?

Years ago, I would have answered very differently.  I considered looking for him.  I had so many questions.  Why did he leave?  Why didn’t he visit?  Why didn’t he write?  Why didn’t he call?  Did I do something wrong?   Was he ashamed of me?  Really, I wanted to know what was so wrong with me that even my own father didn’t want me.

So as I paused and searched my heart, I wondered why my answer changed. That’s when I realized what God had done.  He had healed those childhood wounds more completely than I realized.  He had answered those questions I had for my father.  He told me that I was HIS child.  He told me that He had made me wonderfully.  He told me He loved me and rejoiced over me.  He told me that my father’s leaving was not about me, but about him. 

Now with my questions answered and my heart filled with God’s love, my desire to look for my father diminished.  The holes that once peppered my heart were no longer there.  Instead, there was wholeness and peace; there was forgiveness for my father.  God had been working faithfully.  Healing had come so sweetly and gently that I almost missed it….

As I was walking past a car full of young men, I heard them laughing and cursing.  I smiled and said hello.  One of them called out to me apologizing for their behavior.  He said, ‘we didn’t know there was a church lady here’.  I instantly thought of the church lady from Saturday Night Live….Is that how they envision church people?  Pursed lips and condemning?  Worried about making sure people behave?

I thought about his comment a lot.  You see, I’m concerned about how Christians are seen and how that impacts the impressions people have about God.  If all they see are people who are interested in behavior and sin management do they believe that’s the most important thing to God?  Frequently, I’ll hear people say that they’ll go to church or check out God as soon as they ‘clean up’ their lives.  As if their good behavior is necessary for God to love them.  It breaks my heart.  God is the one we need to run to when we are dirty and messy.

So where does this come from?  I wonder if having been saved by grace, we live as if we are under the law and must behave well.  We become so focused on doing better and living right that behavior and sin management becomes the expression of our lives.  People see us toil and work to behave well.  People hear us talk about our behavior.  People hear us talk about other’s behavior (usually in unflattering ways).  People begin to associate needing to behave well with God. 

How radical would it be if our focus was on God’s grace, love, and heart transformation?  How would others experience us?  What would they think of God?  I don’t know, but I think I’ll give it a try…..