Life lesson... defining love

Love. Such a small word with such a large impact. Love can bring heartache, despair, desperation, joy, exuberantion, exhilaration,  passion, saddness, and forgiveness. Love can reside in every emotion.

Love, however, is one of the hardest things to understand. Why does one fall in and out of love? We have often associated love with the gooey feeling of butterflies and chills sent by a touch. We live in a world where fictional love stories dictate our definition. But is this definition really love?

I have often been told that I am too logical and rational about love and I don't let myself "feel" the emotion of it...but the more I study scripture the more I realize love is a verb, and action, a choice. You don't always feel like loving someone...case in point "love your enemy " do you feel gooey about loving your enemy? No, that is a choice you have to make. Or "love keeps no records of wrong doings" is that a gooey feeling? It seems that the modern definition of love is flawed.

As a single women, one who would love to meet my prince charming and have him sweep me off my feet and live happily ever after,  I have come to realize how much damage this mindset of Prince charming or princess can be. Love must last past the gooey stage. Love must endure two imperfect people merging, a sometimes painful experience as you learn to die to self and focus on the well being of someone else. Love is selfless and sometimes frustrating. Love is communication, even if you don'the feel like communicating. Love is doing what is best for that person, supporting them, encouraging them, building them up, leading them closer to Christ daily, growing with them despite that habit you hate. And love is standing by their side when everyone else walks away. Love, my friends, is a choice we make daily.

I often wonder if divorce rates are so high because we choose our mates from "gooey" love. I think about in the moment the vows are being read "for better or worse, rich or poor, sickness and in health" what does that look like for "gooey" love. Would divorce rates decrease if we looked at love differently? I read an article about marriage the other day that said people don't commit in relationships anymore because we hold people to a "no baggage" standard that we, ourselves,  cannot live up to. We drown our desire for love in selfishness and then wonder why we are alone and dissatisfied with every partner we have. I believe, the beginning of changing this, starts with redefining love. Recognizing it for what God designed it to be, putting the Hollywood and Disney Princess charming and Princess dreams behind us and loving like Christ loves. Like God loves.

I try to understand love, I often fail, but one exercise I do is to take 1 Corinthians 7...the love verses...and pose each one as a question using my name.... am I kind? Am I patient? Do I keep no records of wrong? And hope that when I am standing at the alter with the man I love I will be able to choose to love him when it's easy, when it's hard, rather I feel the "gooey" or not.

Life Lesson #1 True Control Is To Trust

Enduring hardships creates insecurity in people. An insecurity where their lives are out of control due to circumstances beyond their control which fills them with fear. When this happens they want to create an atmosphere where there is harmony and peace so life can be happy and do so in any way possible. Most of the time this is exhibited in the form of influencing behaviors and events to have a good outcome.

"If I do it then I know it will be done right and if it's done right then no one will get hurt, scared, angry, etc."

Let's agree no one likes to feel like life is out of control, that they have no say in how their life is going, or that they can't change things so they are living comfortably. The problem with control starts when it takes over your thinking, when if anything goes wrong everything is ruined, and when it ruins relationships. Control is like a parasite that starts with a small strand (thought or action) and grows rapidly until the host is over come. Control is a perception that things are going smoothly, but in reality we have no control over how smoothly things go...sometimes things just happen...and then what?

When control is lost it usually insights anger because our fear button has been pressed and we feel compelled to protect ourselves from things just happening because when things just happen we get hurt. In the process of trying to take control we usually push people away by blaming others, by saying things we don't mean, and by acting in ways that are unbecoming of ourselves. After the event is done we either feel satisfied that we prevented ourselves from being hurt or we are embarrassed of the mess we created. Sometimes we are oblivious to the dangerous outcomes that have happened or we have hardened our hearts to the pains of others and move on as if it didn't matter.

"Control doesn't heal, it doesn't protect, it only creates a false bubble of security that can be popped at any moment."

I'm going to be honest, I struggle with control and I have ruined many relationships because of my inability to adapt to situations, my inability to let go, my inability to...fill in the blank...but I also don't want to get hurt. If I am truly honest, I don't know how to balance the two. I don't want to be controlling, I don't want to get hurt but if I had to choose between the two I would choose the one that wouldn't hurt. So what I do is mask my controlling behavior with generosity. If I am sweet and nice and have a few moments of chaos people will forgive the behavior. It's true for the most part...but doesn't solve anything. The problem is that I have taken the very thing I have no control over, other people and their lives, and tried to control it so that my life runs as I think it should and that never works out well.

"I can't change others, just like they can't change me...it's a personal decision to change and it won't happen if you don't want it to happen."

So how do I not have control over things in a world where we are to control so much? We must control our thoughts (2 Corinthians 10:5), our bodies (1 Thessalonians 4:4), our words (James 3), our actions (Titus 1:16), how do we not take control of everything?

"The key to giving up all control is trust and trust sometimes feels like a million pounds."

I hate the word trust. The song that has been made popular by Disney "Let it go" drives me insane. People use it like it's a five letter word but to me it feels like a million pounds. It's not that I don't want to do these things, it's that you are asking me to open myself up to be vulnerable and when I do that I always get hurt and that is the one thing I run as far away from as possible. I am supposed to place all of my trust in the Lord and lean not on my own understanding and He will make my paths straight according to Proverbs 3:5-6 but what exactly does that mean? What does that look like? What does that feel like? Because to me that looks like vulnerability and feels life fear. Aren't people supposed to earn trust, trust is never just given right? Or is it? Could it be that trust is like love, that it's a choice? Can we just choose to trust people and let them earn not being trustworthy? If I choose to trust rather than taking control does it make my life easier?

"Giving up control and relying on trust takes the pressure to be perfect and produce perfection away allowing peace to remain."

But that makes it sound easy...could it be that easy? Honestly, this is something I continue to work on so I don't have all the answers but here is what I do know...Control is an illusion we develop in order to feel secure in a world full of insecurities and uncertainties. What happens when control is lost? Can you change it if you were in control? Control feeds our desire to be wanted, needed, important, desirable, significant, etc. but it does not solve our inability to cope with the wounds we have endured. So here is my advice and something that I am continuously working on...give up, give in, and let God help you.

"Trust, even though it hurts, because if you live life in a safe bubble where you never feel pain you are not truly living you are hiding, and hiding is never as secure as you think it is because you can be found."

The reality is that control wraps metaphorical chains around us that tighten our insecurities, that leave us in angst, and loneliness. By letting go of control we open ourselves up to freedom. It is through this freedom that we can find peace, joy, and endurance. It is through trusting that we achieve what we think controlling gives us.

In conclusion I want to apologize. I want to apologize to all those in my life that I have hurt by taking control and being over bearing in an attempt to feel safe and secure. Although I remain a work in progress I have recognized the issue and am working on it. I love deeply and passionately and a lot of times that opens me to being hurt and in an attempt to avoid that pain I control. I control so that I don't have to let people in, so I don't have to let people down, so I don't have to deal with the consequences of things not working out...because I know how they will work out if I am in control. BUT I am tired from always being in control, from always being the strong one, from always carrying the burden. I am learning to trust and it's a rocky road and I may still tend to push people away because I revert back to the "I'm the only one I've ever had" mentality but know this I am trying. I am working on it and I am sorry I hurt you in that process.

My Story: It only takes a year to change a life forever...

Up to this point in my childhood I had been scared most of my life. Terrified of what was going to happen...but my anger was growing toward the situation and I am not the type of person who will sit back and allow terrible things to go unnoticed. I began to fight back. I would yell and scream, in some cases antagonize, at other times down right cause trouble. I was tired of what was happening and things were only getting worse. My world was crumbling around me.

My church, remember it was my safe-haven, was going through it's second split. This time members of the local occult had attacked our pastor, I know they did several things to him but I only remember that they had thrown hot grease in his face. Because of this event my mom withdrew our membership and with it my love for the church.  I began to wonder and question about God's sovereignty and if it were true. Because if God was the God that the church and Bible proclaimed him to be why didn't He stop my dad from hitting us? Saying hurtful things? Causing so much pain? If God was the God that the Bible and church said He was, then why did He take away my safe-haven so that I had to stay day in and day out in the presence of a man whom I hated with every ounce of my being? Didn't He love me enough that I deserved better? Didn't He love me enough that I deserved a dad who hugged me, held my hand, and told me that he loved me. Didn't I deserve to be happy? My conclusion, God was not real.

So what did I believe? I believed in Evolution, but not just evolution but Theo-Evolution. What is Theo-Evolution? It is the belief that a god created the materials that allowed evolution to occur. I was a vast believer soaking in every word taught at school and very cynical toward anything related to God...because I hated God and I hated Him because He came to save the world but I felt like He forgot to save me.

My anger was deepening and hardening my heart. My tongue was like razors, my fist like hammers. I was willing to bash anything and anyone who got in my way. My internal voice was just as harsh and I was forever crucifying my self for not being good enough. My family constantly compared me to my older sister, who was a size four and perfect in their eyes...unlike the brassy, plus size girl I had become. I was never strong enough, smart enough, or fast enough...and my families (including my parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins) favoritism was verbalized as often as possible via words and actions.

It may not seem like a big thing but my sister always got birthday cakes, store bought...and I always got homemade, nothing special really just cake and frosting. As small and petty as this may seem as a child I felt like they loved her more because the cake represented how they were willing to sacrifice the money we didn't have to do something special for her and I was given the cheap homemade version.

The moment that solidified my hurt toward my parents, specifically my dad, was a night that he was in a rage. He had hit me and I had had enough. After a while I looked at my dad and said "If you ever hit me again, I am going to call CPS (child protective services) and turn you in", his reply did more damage than anyone could ever imagine to the fragile mind of a twelve year old girl, "Go ahead," he said, "and when I get out of jail I will kill you." I was paralyzed in fear because I believed him. I knew his temper, I knew his power, I knew his ability to go beyond what was right. My confidence in anything good, anything saving me, anything saying I was worthy of good happening, protection, love, had all but disappeared. In that moment, despite all of my future efforts to fight it, I became invisible. Invisible because I could not verbalize the hurts I was feeling, invisible because I was not allowed to feel anything, invisible because I was always stepped on, invisible because I was silenced,  invisible because I was shoved and pushed into hiding from the truth. And thus began my long encounter with silent loneliness, trapped by my surroundings, my emotions, my hurts, my anger, my family. And with that my anger consumed me, enraged me, inflamed me and I was hateful. I wanted others to feel what I was feeling and I indulged it on a regular basis toward myself and others. I felt robbed of my innocence like I had no one that loved me, no one that wanted me, and no one to protect me but me and I wasn't even sure if I could do that for myself.

My hate at this moment in my life was the strongest it had ever been and but my hurt continued to grow. The next five years would prove to be the hardest and some of the most scaring experiences that I would endure.

(Please do not stop reading here and continue to note: do not make judgements on things until you hear my complete story. Ranging from my family to religion. It takes me a while to write one of these because it brings up old feelings so be patient but know that the whole story will be up eventually and then you will understand what I am saying.)

My Story: Childhood. Just the beginning

As a child I was a blonde (toe-head) haired scrawny little girl. I was full of life, energy, and, according to my mom, determination. Strong, spirited, and energetic my extroversion was evident from the beginning. I don't remember a lot of my childhood but I have been told lot's of stories of crazy things I did like fall face first into a garbage can, not once, but twice in the same say. Or riding around on my tricycle with a paper grocery bag on my head with holes cut out to see through. I was always pushing the line and was devious in my desires especially when told not to do something. Here's an example:
When I was five I was in the bathtub playing as any small child would. Yup the joy of bubble bath and toys! Well we only had one bathroom and my sister had to go...if you know what I mean. So she came in and pooed while I was in the bathtub (which was right next to the toilet fyi) so I flipped her the bird. Of course she told on me and I was grounded. But did that stop me from sneaking off to my best friends house for hours allowing my parents to freak out because they couldn't find me....nope. Not even for one second did I think twice about it. I wanted to do it so I did. Determined despite the consequences.

My mom also said that I would never sleep. And when I did, I would walk and talk in my sleep. Over my lifespan I have been caught doing some pretty crazy things in my sleep, like singing, having a full conversation, eating, walking, enacting my dream (but not always like it was happening in my dream). As a child my mom said I would walk into her room EVERY night and say one of two things 1) I love you, which annoyed her because she was sleeping or 2) I don't feel good to which she would tell me to take some meds and go back to bed. I woke up all over the house from the floor of the kitchen to the bathtub to the hallway. Luckily I never opened doors.

I can also remember my first drink of alcohol. We were at my dad's friends house for a party. I remember being afraid of their house once it got dark because I thought it was haunted, what five year old wouldn't be afraid of an old creaky house? We were outside and my uncle handed me his beer and told me to take a drink. Yup, encouraged by the adult. Smart move. NOT. This definitively was a road that I wish had never been started. Nonetheless it happened. It was also a relative that had me try chewing tobacco for the first time which I quickly spit out and never tried again, and yes he was an adult as well. I can honestly say, it's not a good idea to encourage these behaviors in children...what were they thinking?

I remember attending church. I loved my church. I felt free and loved when I was there. It was a safe haven from what had started to happen at home. What was happening at home? Here's where my life changed. When I was five my dad's mom passed away. I don't remember too much about her except that she chain smoked, had really long finger nails, and would feed us (my sister and I) chocolate ice cream any time we were hungry. But her death changed my dad's perspective on life. He was so angry that his mom died so young especially when he was diagnosed with health conditions that he felt would lead him to death. He started to take his anger out on his family. I don't remember him calling me by name unless we were in public. He definitely called me some colorful explicit words as well as stupid, fat, ugly, worthless, and almost anything else negative you could think of using. I don't remember my house ever being peaceful, there were always arguments and fighting happening. My parents fought over money a lot, they fought over us (my sister and I) a lot, and they just nagged and nagged and nagged each other. But there came a day where angers flared and he hit my mom. Left a bruise the size of a softball on her thigh and she threatened to leave and take the kids if he ever touched her again. So he turned his furry on the children.

I can remember only a few events from here until I am twelve which was a huge age for me and I will blog on that year all by itself. But here are the few things I remember from my childhood:

In the first grade after a large fight between my parents my sister and I were in our room cleaning. We hid as much as possible when arguments happened because the result of any argument was pain of some sort. My mom walked by our room to go hide in her's and looked at me and said "What do you want me to do? Divorce him?" I soberly looked at her and said "Yes." To which she replied "I can't do that." and walked away. I have often wondered how different my life would have been if she had been willing to walk away.

In the second grade we had to do a self-esteem class in school. They gave us a piece of paper with a mirror on it and told us to write what we thought of ourselves in it. I wrote "Bitch" to me this was normal, my dad called me on a regular basis, I didn't know it was unacceptable. I was taken into the hallway and asked about it. But I already knew that you couldn't tell people about what was happening at home, I had made that mistake once before and got in a lot of trouble for it...so I lied and said that I heard it from kids on the playground and they believed me.

When I was eight my dad's dad passed away and my dad's anger escalated. I remember not feeling safe at home, hating the thought of 5:30pm because that was when he got home from work. Moving quickly from his chair that he claimed so you wouldn't get hit, having to wait on my dad hand and foot bringing him his food, his drinks, his shoes, his socks, whatever he wanted he never left his chair. When you walked past his chair you would try to walk as far from him as you could which wasn't possible since the walkway was so small. Why would you walk as far away as you could? Because he would punch you in the leg as you walked by.

When I was eight I also met my second childhood best-friend who would remain my best-friend through high school. Her family, although none of them to this day will admit it, was also abusive...but it was my safe-haven because when I was there I wasn't the one being abused. I lived half my life at there house as a way to escape my own situation. I watched as their mom spanked her son with a baseball bat and her youngest daughter with a 2 x 4. And to me that was normal...scary right? I saw some pretty scary things in that house, besides the abuse, for example I walked into the seven year old son attempting to hang himself with a belt while I was babysitting him because of the things that were happening in his home and at school.

In the fifth grade I had made a really good friend who one day was talking about how her dad told her that he loved her. I stared at her in amazement, I didn't know dad's told their daughters they loved them or that they even hugged them, or held their hands, mine definitely had never did those things with us. She asked me about my amazement and I opened up to her. She told my teacher and I was in the principal's office begging them not to call CPS and somehow convinced them not to contact the authorities. They made me keep a journal about the incidents that were happening at home but nothing was done about them. Despite my fear of punishment for telling people I relished in the freedom of being able to share the burden.  This was also the year my mom's mom died and with her a little piece of any joy I had was gone.

I loved my church as a child. My mom had me in a Southern Baptist church from the day I was born. I remember feeling like I was safe while I was there, loved, cherished even. The people were friendly and I remember dreading the drive home after church was over. You were never really sure what kind of mood dad was in since he had been left to do everything for himself and that upset him. When I was nine I had decided to get baptized. I know that they had sat me down and asked me questions about it but if I was honest, I did it because I knew I was supposed to and my friends were doing it. Life was good when we were inside the doors of the church but good things can't always last forever. I am not sure how old I was when my first shattering view of the church happened. And if you are not a Christian, please do not read this and say, "see this is why I don't like church" you will have to read my whole story before you can make that kind of judgment on a whole religion. An elder of the church molested my sister's best friend and when it came to light, the church was devastated and it caused a split. We stayed at the church but it started my thought process of is this really the truth?  The second church split we will discuss when I talk about the year I was 12 years old.  Putting these two together shattered my safe-haven and thus my view of God. It's sad how little people think about their actions before they indulge in sin.

I didn't have a happy childhood. I learned how to fake being happy to the world while dying of anger, and fear inside. I longed to be loved by the people who treated me poorly and looked for safety in all the wrong places. Bad habits were encouraged and life was sad. BUT the worst was yet to come the age of 12 proved to be a pivotal moment where what I decided changed my life forever.