When little lion boy was in K3, he didn’t want to go to preschool. He was the baby of 4, and I had a million things going on. The others were 4, 6, and 11…I was busy .My youngest would cry at the drop off, none of the others had, but a million friends told me that this was normal. It went on for about 6 weeks, terrible tantrums…I gave in. He was only 3, I decided not to fight the battle, and enjoy my time with him. There was always K4. We made it through about 7 months of that. Always crying at the drop off, but I wanted to be consistent , so I battled on. Many mornings I would come home, and sit and cry until time to go get him. It was that bad. And then one afternoon when I came to pick up my 4 year old son, the teacher said…I don’t know what’s wrong with him, he started crying, and wouldn’t tell me why, and then he just refused to talk. She had a bad attitude ,she was frustrated, and I was mad at her. And mad at myself. Did I do this ? Was I pushing him to hard ? This day would be a marker in my life, I started a journey that is ongoing, and I’m in a downward spiral right now. In K5, my son ran out of the school building, and into the parking lot. His teacher caught him. He hid in a closet one morning before school, and we thought that he had run away. I pulled him out that day, and taught him at home the rest of the year. It was such a tug of war, I wanted him to go to school, conquer whatever this THING was, so I would keep trying, and then I would open my eyes and say…Why am I doing this ? And then I would question that. My cup was running over alright, with doubts, and hopelessness, and lies that I was doing all the wrong things for this boy, this little lion that I love so much. First, and second grade were a blur of fights, him trying to jump out of the car, counselors holding him down so that he didn’t hurt himself. We saw a therapist during this time who didn’t feel that my son fit into any real diagnosis, that we should keep pushing through. Third grade was a reprieve, I still don’t know why. Nothing was different. In fourth grade he ran away from the school, left that building, and ran all the way home…he was 9. I was terrified. I brought him home for the rest of the year. Many times, I have cried out to God in desperation, I want to understand my son, I want to teach him…and many times I have known breakthrough. But what is happening now feels more like a breakdown. My son is once again at home. He is older now, and when the tears, and the shutting down started at school this year … I was afraid. Afraid that he would be made fun of, sixth grade boys can be really mean. So after nine weeks of middle school, he came home, and I am teaching him. Or at least, I am trying to. Most days are spent with me asking him a million times to do his work…trying to step gently, so as not to ignite his short fuse. I already know that some of you are thinking…BS. Insist on him doing the work, or give him consequences…I do. I do. To make matters worse, we got a puppy. I am an idiot. I knew better. But that voice was there in my head, the one that says – I’m all work, and no fun to my kids. I don’t want the puppy. She is 6 months old, and I just can’t keep everything together. What kind of person doesn’t want a puppy ? The kind that is trying to work at a new business, homeschool a kid that refuses to comply most days, and has 2 teenagers, both playing soccer right now. I’m going under. This morning I have been blamed for the lack of socks here. This is funny. I hate missing socks, so much so that I spend a ton of money buying socks….I’m pissed about it. The dog just ate something that is green, was green, and plastic…I am beyond caring. Of course there is more to this story, there always is. But for now, I just really needed to vent. I don’t feel nice. I feel tired. I don’t feel wise, I feel wrung out.
Category Archives: diary of a wife
random,sometimes funny, sometimes not, thoughts on married life.
The Key.
A rendering of Queen Esther
Where to start this morning…Which way to go….there are so many things I could say ! It is TRUE, my story has been the key to unlocking so many of yours ! I stand amazed at the way God works, even now. Your individual stories touch me, and keep my heart soft. Your words of love and encouragement open my eyes to the fact that God is indeed restoring my lost years. Not just the years of my youth, but the years spent believing lies about myself. So…I will start here today. I am still asking the Lord to show me the truth about myself. Who am I ? What do you want from me ? What character am I in your story ? These questions roll through my mind.
We got up early, and made it to the first service this past Sunday. It was not a great morning in our house, there were bad hair days, dirty fingernails, and wayward dogs. Use your imagination, there might have been some yelling. It didn’t matter, we were going ! And I am so glad that we did. As I stood, arms raised in worship of the one who is presently saving me, a gentleman came over and spoke to my husband and I. He said that as he looked over at me that God had said, ” Queen Esther ” , he said that my willingness to be vulnerable and truthful about my life would save generations. Thomas and I were both crying. We thanked him for coming over, and then I thanked God for giving me a glimpse of Who I am. When I posted my story I had a vision of freeing my daughters, and my granddaughter…but God has spoken of other women, and their daughters…generations,outside of my immediate family. Amazing. Queen Esther was an orphan, and I have been as well. At first Esther did not want to intercede on behalf of her people to the king, she was afraid. In Esther 4:14 Mordecai ( Esther’s Uncle ) gives her this advice…If you keep silent now, relief and deliverance will rise for your people from some other place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Who knows ? Perhaps you have come into the kingdom for such a time as this ! Esther took her time, she fasted, and gained favor with God, and when the time was right, she shared her story, and unlocked freedom for the Jews. I believe that is true for all of us. Don’t keep silent to save your foolish pride, tell your story, become the heroine, unlock your future with your past. God has handed you the key.
the story.
It had been going on for weeks….his flirting, his kindness, his deception. He listened intently when I spoke, and stood up for me when some other silly high schooler made a joke at my expense. It is only now, as a 40 year old wife and mother that I recognize what my 14 year old self was feeling…safe. His attention made me feel safe, and entirely different from my normally unsure, just on the outside of the popular crowd, girl that I actually was. He was 17, and larger than life. A junior, a football player…Mr. Popular. In my small country school everyone knew him, or feared him, or wanted to be known by him. He had a girlfriend, one of the elite, a cheerleader. I was sure that she would be fine when he broke up with her, she would bounce right back…she had everything. If only I could have seen around corners.
I remember him saying – you need to invite me over sometime when your mama isn’t there, so we can work all this out. I was so happy. He liked me. This was going to be the day that he chose me. And so when my mom left that evening, I called him. Then he was there, in my driveway, in my living room….in my bedroom, that he just had to see. In the space of a few minutes I realized that his plan, and my plan looked drastically different. Physically, he was bigger, and stronger, and suddenly pushy. Mentally, I was struggling, and strained to get back that feeling of safety that I had thought he offered me. It was gone, and so was my innocence. And then …so was he. I believe now, that I was in shock, I was shaking, and shaken. I gave him time to get home, and then I called him, crying ” what have we done?” He told me then that he was never going to break up with his girlfriend, and then he hung up on me. I cried myself to sleep, broken open. Surely, at school he would be different.
Morning came, and I walked through the halls searching the faces for his. There he was, standing by the water fountain with a group of friends. I gathered all the courage that the 14 year old me had, and walked over. He grinned at his friends, then bent and filled his mouth with water. He raised his head from the fountain, and spit all over me, covering my shirt. He walked away laughing. I walked away a ghost, where a girl had been.
All of his friends knew, and then his girlfriend. And she laid out a battle plan to make me miserable. If she only could have known…I was already in misery. She had her friends call me names, spit on me, throw things at me…classic bullying. It got so bad that my 2 best friends told me that they could not be seen with me anymore, the ridicule was running off onto them, and they just couldn’t take it. I did not blame them. I began to eat my lunch in the office, the cafeteria was too close to hell on earth. I was utterly alone. I wanted to die, but I remember thinking…I don’t know how. I don’t know how to die. I know now that I was being held by the most sacred love, but at the time I felt a nagging inside of me all the time. I changed schools several times before eventually dropping out. And for so many years that brought such shame, and sadness for what I could’ve been. The girl that was me was gone, and had to be grieved. I just found that out.
I spent the next several years looking for someone to love me, and make me feel safe. At the ripe old age of 20, I started an affair with a married man, and then I became his second wife. The lies that I believed about myself were all being confirmed, I was never good enough to be first, I was dirty, shameful, unworthy. My new husband did not know the Lord, but he was kind to me. He saved my life. And when we had been married for a year and a half THE LORD SAVED HIM ! He was a new creation. We have been married 18 1/2 years now, and it is still growing and changing. As I realize where I am fractured, and where the lies that I have believed have caused decay…even in my beautiful marriage, even in my parenting of my beautiful children….I start to heal, and hear the truth about myself. I believed that I was ugly, the Lord says I’m beautiful in an epic way (still trying to figure that one out), I believed that no one could ever really love me, the Lord says I am worth extravagant love ! My husband is the best example of this, but also my kids. I did tell my almost 14 year old this story. I was scared, and ashamed…but she cried and held me as if she knew the 14 year old me, we grieved together, and are stronger for it.
I had to pull all of this up, and sort it out. I had been naïve, mislead, and bullied…the worst part was, that I was still letting it happen as a grown woman. I am new, resurrected…a better wife, and a better mom. A better daughter. I know it was long, I hope it brought light.
Pen to paper.
Before I can tell my story , I have to write it. I put pen to paper yesterday, and the memories came rushing back. Tiny details that might seem so unimportant ran down my cheeks while I wrote. I had no idea how hard it would be to dig my history up and pick it apart like a scavenger . But it’s worth it, I’m finding out just exactly who I am . The Lord has called me wholehearted, and that is what I’m becoming.
Story telling…
What is it about story telling ? We do it as parents, its sweet and filled with sweetness, or mystery! And we do it as friends…as a way of connecting with one another. We sure do a lot of it as moms. Get a group of moms together, and you will hear a ton of stories about the battle, the potty, the hood (the motherhood, that is)….the struggle.
It is important to share our stories on a primal level for women. It is imperative for our survival, we need tribes. Simple. We were not meant to do this alone. And yet so many of us do. I am so guilty of this, of wrapping myself up in my home, my world, my kids, my blanket of lonliness. I recognize it. Yesterday, I started the process of sharing my story and felt so much love and courage from the ladies who read it. And then last night, I crashed. My family went to the gym, and I stayed home. I sat and cried. It was true , just like my new friend Rhonda said…you have to grieve the past. I don’t know how many times I might just break down and cry, but I know that I am not alone in it.
What does it look like when we stop choosing the stories we tell, and start telling the whole truth ? Who will it affect ? Mostly us. The power of testimony. That’s the superhero power that I choose.
Yesterday morning I stopped running from my broken heart.
Yesterday morning I stopped running from my broken heart. Yeah, that. The process got started at the women’s retreat last weekend, and I don’t know when it will be complete. But I am not running. My broken heart really started when I was 14 years old. My daughter will turn 14 in a couple of months, and it has been like a nightmare that causes me to twist and turn, and tear up my sheets at night. What I know is that you won’t actually die from your broken heart, but the ways you find to cope with it on a daily basis, and the ground you lose in your battle to be your REAL you…could kill you. So, I woke up yesterday and I looked my husband in the eye and said – you saved my life. I might have thought it a time or two over the last 19 years, but I never said it. So …I opened my mouth, and let the words fall out. And then I cried for that 14 year old girl who was pressured, unsure, scared, pushed around, spit on…left to rot. I thanked God that I was never lost to him, he had marked me, and knew where I was at every turn. I held my daughter and I smelled her hair…she is covered, and I blessed her her spirit with the secrets it takes to be strong. I let my husband hold me while I stood still and felt my broken heart. It hurts. But it is better than pretending that it doesn’t, while you walk around in chains that other people can’t see. The chains were keeping me from doing so many things that I want to do ! My next big step will be to share my story, my broken heart with my daughter. It’s a day I have been dreading, and running from. I will be still with her, I will be who I am, and allow her to see the broken and how it is starting to heal. My story will indeed unlock the chains that have been around my heart holding it together.
Women’s Retreat
retreat: a retirement for a period for religious exercises and meditation.
retreat : the forced or strategic withdrawal of an army or armed force before an enemy.
I like the second one personally. I have been on some women’s retreats that were entirely too religious. Not for me . Not my thing. What I need is a forced withdrawal from the wolves at my door. The enemy who is always trying to take more. I want a time of rest, and laughter, and revelation about 2014 ! I want a journal filled with ideas for homeschool, and poems that speak to the heart of me .
I am never the first to sign up for a ladies retreat, and I always second guess whether or not I actually want to go…but I’m always glad that I did. Always. I am looking forward to this one, I am expectant.
Little lion boy and me.
Oil.
The past couple of months have been rough with little lion boy. Good, but rough. More emotional outbursts, more of the words…I hate you, and more tears on my part. We are homeschooling, which takes the pressure of going to school off of him. On the flip side, it puts a ton of pressure on me. Pressure to teach him what he is required to know for 6th grade, pressure to do it right. Sometimes I forget that there is no one standing in the shadow waiting to tell me that I am not doing enough, or doing it wrong. So I have not been the most flexible with our schedule, the Lord really brought that to my attention last night as I prayed for wisdom during, yet another, emotional outburst from my son. The Lord also brought up the fact that with our new business,( and new puppy too) that we had been preoccupied, and not giving enough attention to little lion boy. It’s been the holiday season, every kid has had parties, plans…issues. Which has lead to impatience, aggravation, and whining. and that was the grown ups ! Fast forward to yesterday with me in bed, praying…asking what can I do ? What am I missing ? So simple. I heard it loud and clear. My little lion looks strong, and brave, but in fact after so many years of battling school anxiety, administrators, parents expectations, try this and try that strategies, no gluten, no sugar…fish oil….He is dry, and brittle. The least little request, or criticism sets him off. It’s no wonder, that’s a lot to deal with. So… we are specifically setting aside the next 6 weeks to pour oil onto this little lion, to watch what happens when we say- the job, the friends, the activities, and yes…even the homeschool, it all comes second to filling him up. Moisturizing, and bringing back to life the places that have become so brittle from the battles.
Reign.
When I started noticing people talking about their WORD for 2014 on social media, I was inspired to find out mine. I sought it out, I prayed , and I thought about the resolutions that I had been thinking of making. Reign was the word I heard. I looked it up, although I was fairly certain I knew the definition.
Reign- royal rule, or authority. to have influence.
Hmmm. Sort of sums it all up. More than anything, I want to guide, and influence my children. I know in my heart that I have the royal authority to this ! I believe in the kingdom of God , and the power that He gives me. It is a concept that I am planning on working on in 2014. In my home, and in the world around me. Planning. Not promising. I am constantly being tested in this, and I am only 1 week in.
I want to have influence because of who I am, not just the words I say, or yell. I want to have an influential whisper. Yes, that is it exactly. In my minds eye I can picture that, and what it looks like. Now…to practice it.
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