The hurricane of intention and expectation.

 

A picture of my mind....

Not severe enough to warrant wide spread panic. 
But strong enough to take precaution.
In just the right location to make the biggest mess.
In need of a path change.
And.
Huge.
And.
Well.
Huge.
Swirling.
Chaos.
Turbulence.
Friction.

When a low meets a high.
When intention meets expectation.
When choices become decisions.

Because decisions are how life happens.  When choosing your life (my life)....what do I want it to look like? 

What's more important?
Stupid question.
Hard decision.

If you aren't a working mom or never thought you would be a working mom or never wanted to be a working mom, you might not feel this struggle.  If you aren't a business owner with a professional degree and a... boatload of educational debt, this decision might be easy-- or not even be a decision or hurricane in your life.

But this is a hurricane in my brain.  A daily swirling chaos of low and high.  Of intention vs. expectation.

My husband and kids are the most important 'things' in my life.  I want to live like that.  We have made a decision to parent and 'spouse' with intention.  To work.  Hard.  on these relationships.  To make the best decisions for our family.

A growing decline in society's mores and habits in all areas lead us to becoming hermits within our own lives-- but we can't do that.  Teaching kids good habits in all areas is near impossible when schools feed over processed food, rewards are filled with cancer causing materials, parents have stopped parenting hence leading kids to do and say anything they please with no direction.  It'll make you go mad!!

And yet... I have this *thing*  I have this longing to help and heal.  I have this *thing* in me that needs interaction with adults.  All day with tiny people will make me lose my everlovin' mind!!  And the whole idea of intentional parenting might go flying out the window I'd break throwing a KID out the window!

Sigh.

What do you do when you have a choice? 
When the choice demands a decision?

When intention and expectation collide?

When you feel like an absolute failure because your kids are in someone else's care more hours than yours?
And yet, the thought of making a Halloween costume ("as a good mother should"-- or any other crafty thing) give me hives.

When you feel like a horrific parent because you are actively choosing (when you don't HAVE to) to work outside the home?
And yet, this *thing* in you drives you to heal and help others.

When you want your family to be your priority-- and you tell yourself and others that it is-- but your time reflects that money is your priority?

swirling.maddening.chaos.destruction.construction.resolve.dissolve.build.rebuild.renew.revamp.redesign.

How do you know which is a selfish *thing* and which is a God *thing*?
Or are they both?
Are they neither?

How do you determine, after hours of agonizing prayer and frustrated fist shaking, which one is the right decision?

(insert internal conflict discussion in my brain)
Is there such a thing as "best of both worlds" and having success in each?!?!

Will my kids be scarred for life if I work for 9-10 hours a day 4 days a week?
Will my kids be scarred for life because I possess none of the "good" stay at home mom traits but choose to do it anyway?

What causes the least amount of scarring?

Is that what parenting boils down to? :-/  The least traumatic choices as parents?

How do I expect to be successful in the professional world (afterall, I did spend 4 years and a couple 'hunnard' grand to BE professional) and be an intentional mommy?  How in the world can I be a flourishing business owner (with overhead and physical space) and still be the biggest time, social, spiritual, and love influence in my kids' lives?  Especially when the hours of greatest "need" for my target market is when I *SHOULD* be with your family?  

And how do you make more family when daycare already costs more than you can bring home?

 (leaving my brain and now thinking outloud, on a grander scale)

I've been encouraged to think that I'm sacrificing now for a better future for our kids.  And that small town, poor farm girl part of me screams-- WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT MONEY MAKING THE FUTURE BETTER?!?!?!?!  And the realistic, culturally enveloped part of me yells back-- EVERYONE, YOU IDIOT!!  MONEY MAKES EVERYTHING EASIER AND BETTER!!!

Before I had kids, I thought much the same way.  That when they were little, that was the best time to be "gone".  But now that I have kids, now that I want my kids to know they are my priority, I am more and more convinced there is no "good" time to be absent as a parent.

And I step back.

I listen to the intention and the expectation.
Swirl.
Battle.

This is the hurricane of intention and expectation. 

Just as the winds of hurricanes are far reaching, currently and forever, so is the choice to parent with intention.  And work with conviction. 

And find the calm between the two.

I am reminded

A year ago we were trying to figure out how to tell our parents, ever so reluctantly, that we were expecting a third baby.  We were not ready for a third.  We were not trying to have a third.  But we were having a third.  May teens, 2012.  A new baby was supposed to arrive.  New office for me.  Boys new in daycare-- an astronomical expense.  Just getting into a rythym with the office and all the new things I had to learn.  I was frustrated that life was again about to get even crazier.  It felt like the stress would never end.

We had found out in early September that I was pregnant.  We didn't tell much of anyone for almost 2 months.  We were trying to be excited about it when we told them.

And by this time last year, we were getting there.

We decided to tell the grandparents on my birthday.  We were going to my parents the weekend before and coming home to Keith's parents basically the Sunday of my birthday.  My mom had already figured it out.  I was sick.  I wasn't eating.  And all I could do was sleep.  And I was already showing at 10ish weeks.  My parents were cautiously excited, knowing just how stressful the last 3 1/2 years had been.

For Keith's family we were trying to be creative so we decided on a cake.  We got me a cake (very unusual) and put "happy birthday to a mother of 3" on it.  I still remember driving up Ash Street connector to go into Prominence Point Publix to get it.  Wondering how on earth they were going to respond.

Excited and worried is what I think filled the air.  Babies are exciting.  They also bring worry.  And stress.  Anyone who tells you otherwise is blowing sunshine-- no matter how anticipated or how unexpected the baby chaos may be, it is still a bit of chaos.  Babies are wonderful.  Babies are.  All encompassing.  If you are great at total self sacrifice, no showers, little sleep, and sore boobs, then maybe babies are easy for you.  But babies are challenging--fabulous--but hard

By Thanksgiving we were full on excited about another baby.  Really.  Really. Excited.

Christmas.  Bubbling.  Crazy happy about another little boy.  Everett.  I had him named before I got home to tell Keith.  With the "boys rule" camo outfit I bought to tell him.

We decided to keep that to ourselves for another little while.  Trying to make it fun.

January.  Earth shattering.  Life altering.  Devastating.  Gut wrenching news.

18 weeks left to mourn the baby I was carrying.  We were given no chance of life.  But we thought about it.  Prayed about it.  And contemplated every "what if" any set of parents can come up with.

And we came up with love.  Earth shattering.  Life altering.  Devastating.  Gut wrenching love.

There isn't a day that I don't think about the baby missing in my Moby wrap.  There isn't a moment that I'm not one thought away from tears.  There is this hole.  This... Emptiness... where a baby belongs.

Every test known to modern science said it wasn't our genes' fault that Everett is in heaven and not in Canton.  Everything they know to look for says his death was unexplainable.  Comforting and maddening.  Encouraging and frustrating.

And I am reminded.  Of everything I have learned in this wretched, beautiful year.

I am reminded that time doesn't heal wounds.  Choices do.

I am reminded that emotional walls have no place in deep, personal relationships.  Honesty, work, and vulnerability do.

I am reminded that life is fragile and only love matters.  Only relationships matter.

I am reminded that so much can change in an instant and yet, Christ is constant--whether we remember that immediately or not.

I am reminded that choices are what make circumstances.  Not that we choose every situation, but we choose how to participate in every situation.  And we choose how to allow those things to influence our lives.

I am reminded that only faith, hope, and love remain.  But the greatest of these is love.  That faith and hope bring us through the days of inner torture.  Of self disgust. Of enveloping sadness.  Of utter despair.  But love allows us to breathe.

I am reminded that He makes all things new.  That he will right is wrong. Healing flows from Him.  That restoration is His song.

I am reminded.   Of how 6 lbs, 20 weeks, and brokenness can change the weight of the world, a lifetime of decisions, and make restoration possible.

What do you do?

So what do you do with walls?  What do you do with hurt?  What do you do with judgment while you are trying to heal?  With callousness of social norms?  What do you do when taking out your trash brings turmoil instead of good?

You keep taking it out.  

You get your trash out.  You remove it from rotting your soul.  

You share it to allow others to see that they are not alone.  That pain is real, even for those who love the Lord.  That loving God and growing beyond the wounds does not simply mean that all is over.

Wounds do heal, and often can be stronger when the right stressors are in place.  That is why you set a broken bone-- to heal it properly.  That's why therapy is often active after surgeries-- to lay down scar tissue in the right directions along the lines of everyday forces to create movable, flexible, healthy patterns of strength.  Neglecting wounds causes long term inflammation, sometimes infection, and if not treated properly, almost always more problems in the future.  Improperly cared for injuries lead to compensatory reactions through the entire body.  THE ENTIRE BODY.

Emotional wounds are no different.  In fact, I would venture to say that emotional wounds are possibly far more likely to cause long term problems.  If you can't identify your hurt, explore it completely and see its current impact on your life, then you've missed a huge chance to grow.  A huge chance to improve all of your relationships.    A chance to be better.  A chance to help others.  A huge chance to see just how strong Jesus is.    When you try to do it all yourself, you will fail every time.  Your lines of stress are almost always laid improperly, selfishly, and keep you from moving freely throughout the rest of your life.

So what do you do with your trash?  When your skeletons come out?  When the ugly is revealed?  When you remember?  When you face it, willingly or un-?

Do you hide?  Do you try to bury further the things that keep you bound?  Do you allow stigmas of your trash to quiet or squelch your healing?  Do you just halt altogether because its too hard to keep going?  Do you eat?  Do you starve?  Do you run, kick, jump, and punch till you can't move?  Do you poison your own life and the lives of others with your bitterness, selfishness, and disgust?  

You do something.  What is it?

The easy and always church answer is always Let Go and Let God.  Makes total sense.  But for those of us with control issues, this isn't the easiest task.  For those of us with pride issues, this is nearly impossible to do.  For those of us with deep (or deeply buried) wounds, this is painful.  Sometimes excruciatingly so. 

But it's the only thing to do.  The only thing that brings healing.  To open your relationship that is broken.  Even if it is with yourself.  Especially  if it is with yourself.  

So as I pilfer through my trash, I have found that a major broken relationship with myself that has created many of the walls I've designed for self preservation, protection, and to cover my shame.

Because, somehow, we've been taught that shame is what we should feel for our failures.  For our sometimes catastrophic interactions with life.  Because life is just.  Life.

And so I ask the 'they' that have established these norms of shame...When is the last time you learned a really life changing lesson at the peak of success?  When is the last time you learned a life changing paradigm in the midst of smooth sailing?  

I was talking to a patient who, unbeknownst to me prior to that conversation, had been raped-- she said something so profound and so hard.  She said, "unfortunately, rape is as common as miscarriage and people shove both under the rug."  So. True.  No one thinks we should share the ugly.  Women are shamed and encouraged to never speak of it.  There are movies.  Shows.  Books.  All that demonstrate this social norm that is devastating.  That makes a victim feel guilty.

After the inappropriate actions of my youth minister and then being date raped, I realized just how much I blame myself for these things.  For my stupidity.  For being gullible.  For believing the best in all people.  And I hated me.  Hated me.  For all of my scholastic honors, I was an idiot.  And, sadly, when it comes to sexual abuse of any kind against a woman, there are generational norms that have been established to make us BELIEVE it is our fault.   There are societal stigmas that make us FEEL like it is our fault.  Like it is something to be ashamed of.  Like abuse is something to hide and bury.  Like it should simply be forgotten.  

Ask any victim if inappropriate conduct, assault, or abuse-- physical or otherwise.

You never forget.

You bury.

You move on.

You change you.

You do anything to forget.

But you never do.

 Why are the hard things of life stigmatized, judged harshly, and swiftly 'removed'?

Because real things happen to real people and real people have stories.

Real stories only heal when dealing with them in the light of God's truth and Jesus' love.  

God's truth is that sin is ugly and almost unavoidable.  Whether you choose it or it chooses you.  

Jesus' love assures us that nothing can separate us from His love.  Angels nor demons.  Height nor depth. Not sin or 'story'.  

Gods truth is that relationship matters.  We were created for relationships.  When those relationships are broken, we are broken.

Jesus' love says that we can endure anything.  Anything.  And anything.  Anything. Can be restored. 

Anything.

Feeling unloved.

Hopelessness.

Loss.  Deep, pervasive loss.

Pain.  All encompassing pain.

Stupidity.  Complete, full on, prideful stupidity.

Feeling alone. Very. Very. Alone.

And often times when we are taking out the trash of our lives, we feel alone.  We feel stupid.  We feel pain. We feel lost.  We feel hopeless.  But the truth of God's word and the love of his Son can somehow, inexplicably, BE THERE.  If you want to heal the brokenness.  Burying the brokenness only creates low level rumbling.  There WILL be an earthquake.  The earth WILL shatter at some point if you don't deal with your hurt.  If you don't deal with yourself.

Everett began chipping away walls in January.  Because we chose-- we actively chose-- to make losing our son the best possible experience.  The most faith building, marriage building, parenting building experience losing a child could be.  We chose to do that with losing our baby.  It didn't take away the pain.  It doesn't fill the Everett sized void in our lives.  It doesn't make any of the days better.  But it did keep us from rotting away.  From breaking relationship with Jesus, ourselves, each other.  It allowed us to lean into each other, to love on each other, in a way most couples will never even try-- because most won't have to.

As the walls got picked apart, the foundations began to show themselves.  Sometimes walls can be so big and strong that you don't even know where they came from.  How they got there.

I knew I had walls--fortresses-- in my life.  And having that patient walk in 3+ weeks ago who could have passed for my assaulter's dad allowed me a glimpse into the foundation of my walls. I don't recommend walls in marriage, but I've never met an honest couple who didn't have at least one barrier to real closeness.  In reliving that night (for the first time in YEARS), I could find some real untruths I had built in my life.

1.  Men are selfish, self centered, primal creatures with no regard for women.

2.  Sex is simply a tool of power operated by men who have no regard for women.

3.  Relationships with men that become physical (not just sexual) can not have real meaning.

4.  Men did not respect nor did they value women or their desires.

5.  Stupidity, not sin or anything else for that matter, separates from God's love. My choices.  Separate.  Me.  From God.  From Restoration.

I believed these things.  Whether I knew that I believed them then or not, I did.  I think I recognized #3.  Because I would reflexively "check out" of all relationships that included touch.  I changed me.  Because "touch" changed me.  I was/am no longer a "hugger" of adults, especially men.  I was/am not a "toucher", especially men.  I had GREAT friendships with guys. Anything more was a game. 

I lived by untruth #5.  So unforgiving of myself,  so guilt ridden in my story.  So low in my shame.  That I left God.  Because He could never love someone so stupid.  So naive.  So moronic.  As I. 

And so walls were constructed.  Self preservation.  Walls.  Instead of healing.  Doing it myself instead of asking Jesus for help.  Walls of protection around my emotions. Walls of "shut down" as soon as a relationship moved into a physical realm.  Hating myself so much that I believed that no one else could love me either.  Especially a self centered man only seeking to get laid. (my general overwhelming view of men)  

You can't do that and have a working marriage.  It just. ...Won't work.  Had I not unearthed that terrible night weeks ago, our marriage-- as strong as it already is because we choose it to be daily-- could never be as strong as it is *going to be*.  Because I am healing the broken relationship with myself.  I am understanding God's truth and Jesus' love in light of my world. 

This is what I have discovered.

1.  Sin sucks.  Choose it.  Be a victim of it.  Sin just sucks.  Its reach is further and deeper than most are willing to see and acknowledge.  Sin is ugly.  Sin has lifelong implications.  For everyone.  Not just me.

2.  Sin, my own and those sins against me, are nailed to the same cross as everybody else's. Jesus' love has covered me, smothered me, and cradled me to survive anything.  Anything.  And no one will bury me from sharing it.

3.  No matter the wall, no matter the foundation, no matter the source-- a broken relationship with yourself is the source of all other broken relationships.  Whatever its origin.   Healing always.  Always.  Always. Only.  Begins with me.  

Recognizing the source of the stench and then taking out the trash.  That is the only option.

I'm certain your story is different from mine.  I hope it is.  Sadly, if you're a woman reading this, it might not be all that different.  

Your walls, your untruths, your pain is different from mine.  Or maybe not.  

Your revelations may be very different from mine.  Maybe not.  

But I encourage you to love yourself, your spouse, your kids enough  to take out your own trash.  Don't be dumb like me and do it publicly if that's not your avenue, but start the healing process.  

Experience a peace you can't begin to imagine in your inner chaos.  

Experience joy you can't begin to imagine in your unhappiness.  

Experience love you didn't know existed.

Take out your trash and see how it changes you.