Deranged Love

I was reading this in The Four Loves chapter on Affection we are reading this week. It was pretty interesting....

If people are already unlovable a continual demand on their part (as of right) to be loved - their manifest sense of injury, their reproaches, whether loud and clamorous or merely implicit in every look and gesture of resentful self-pity - produce in us a sense of guilt (they are intended to do so) for a fault we could not have avoided and cannot cease to commit. They seal up the very fountain for which they are thirsty. If ever, at some favoured moment, any germ of Affection for them stirs in us, their demand for more and still more petrifies us again. And of course such people always desire the same proof of our love; we are to join their side, to hear and share their grievance against someone else. If my boy really loved me he would see how selfish his father is....if my brother loved me he would make a party with me against my sister....if you loved me you wouldn't let me be treated like this....

How does our dear author do that - word things in such a way as to say what you've been wanting to say your whole life? I have known people just like this - who I have ached to love in a way that would break through all of this, and yet their ravenous need incapacitates you to give at the level in which it would be recognized. It is important to know that this isn't my failure but perhaps something in that person that was broken long before I entered the world by way of her womb. Jesus, can you fix even this mess?
Reading C.S. Lewis is like theological crack - it stimulates so many thoughts and brings to the forefront so many things that lay internalized with seemingly no voice with which to come out. It is painful sometimes - like therapy - but it really helps me get my head on straight.

My Feet Betray Me

I spend a lot of time consciously not thinking about my parents. Unfortunately for me, because most of us have them, there are things that serve as constant reminders that I wasn't just dropped to earth by a low flying stork. May and June offer two holidays that could prove excruciating if I let them into my mental consciousness very far. But I don't. Most of the time I am successful at the denial game. But once in a while I will talk with a friend and hear that they are doing something mundane like making jam with their mom, and I am so overcome with the want of a mother that I could physically crumble into a heap.
Father's Day is this weekend. A few years ago - 11 to be exact, I was sitting in church on Father's Day, about 20 some weeks pregnant with my beautiful boy. I could feel the tension building, the emotion overpowering me as the pastor talked about fathers. I was trying to relax and do some deep breathing when the contractions started, but found myself helpless to stop what my body had put into motion. Thus, that Father's Day of 1997 ended with a stay in the hospital. This was a very real indicator of how much it is hurting me even when I try to deny it. I am so thankful they were able to stop the pre-term labor, and that I had good friends to gather round me for support, yet that has never been an adequate substitute for having parents.
My mom decided with a little help from me that she wasn't speaking to me about a year and a half ago. It seems there is a level of control she wants in my life - such as the ability to dictate which family members I maintain a relationship with - that I am not able or willing to give in order for us to have a relationship.
The situation with my dad is a little different. There are siblings involved. There are my children's cousins. But still it seems that he wants little or nothing to do with me. I try to maintain this illusion in my own mind that it is my choice that keeps us apart - and then the facade that he no longer has the ability to hurt me with things such as hanging the pictures I send them of my children, their grandchildren, partially behind a door down a dark hallway while the similar pictures of the other children are in proudly on the mantle, with properly directed recessed lighting. (Okay, I made that recessed lighting thing up - but it sure seems that way!) I do not blame my siblings, but this has put a strain on our relationships as well.
So I keep a lid screwed pretty tight on that bottle. But then out of the blue, something very ordinary, will blow it off very unexpectedly. Yesterday I caught a glimpse of my feet and was overwhelmed with emotion. Minus the toenail polish with slightly softer skin, they were my dad's feet. I was thinking about the years as a little girl I saw those feet walking around in flip flops, driving the Pinto, the shape of the toes, the gait of their steps. Even my own feet betray me.

Unburdening Myself

I feel in a funk today. There are lots of things that are weighing on me. I am not sure how to assimilate my thoughts in a cohesive manner - so I think I'll just make a list.

• I have a 10 yr old son who would like me to be a playmate to him. I don't know where to start and I feel that I am failing here with him.
  
• Financial burdens - everything is getting more and more and more expensive - from gas to groceries. Our income is not growing accordingly. In fact some of our income seems to be trickling in and I fear at times that it may never come. Each month I am spending money unnecessarily in late charges, etc. My husband needs to make a job change in order for us to progress financially - and he is very resistant to any change - whatsoever.
  
• I am starting to miss my mom - or maybe miss the idea of having a mom. I can't always put my finger on what brings this longing to the surface - but this time I do. Yesterday I overheard the conversation of a new friend and her sister who are going on an out of town trip together to a large TX flea market - and I could feel the pang instantly. Nobody can fix this - it is just how it is, and sometimes I deal with it but once in a while it comes up.
  

These are the big things - but right now little things like grocery shopping, planning menus, staying on top of laundry, etc. has become more of a burden than just a natural, easygoing part of the day. Just writing about it seems to have helped.

The Fellowship of Suffering

After my post yesterday about being an open person, and how freely I share, I have been sitting on a tremendous hurt since yesterday afternoon. I opened my email to an emotional bomb - with devastating consequences. In fact, it hurt so much that I could not even muster up words. My sweet husband knelt with me at the foot of our bed and prayed while I cried. I am grieving a loss - for about the millionth time, which you would think would make it easier, and yet for some reason, it seems to make it worse. However, the Lord and I have walked a long road of fellowship in this. He continues to remind me that He knows what rejection feels like and while it hurts deeper - I am more able to handle it than ever before. I know that there is a spiritual principle here somewhere that I cannot identify, other than maturity.
My thoughts are slightly clouded by grief - someone that I love - in fact one of my parents - has chosen to sever a relationship with me. There is nothing I can say or do - as I know from past history. I am thankful that while it continues to repeat itself, God shows no limit of pouring love and forgiveness through my heart to strengthen me for the roller coaster ride that this relationship mandates. I am innocent of blame. Their perceived injury is that of Satan's design, and he continually blinds their eyes and encapsulates their heart.
This morning I was so comforted by this verse - John 1:11 He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Jesus was familiar with the sting of rejection from those we would have expected to love Him the most. I know Christ better by sharing in the "fellowship of His sufferings". If walking this road is necessary to experience the power of His resurrection, fill my heart with courage Lord.
God spoke comfort to my heart this morning with this verse as well - (in italics)
Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
I know the answer to this question is YES.
Though she may forget, I will not forget you!
I know the Lord will not forget me. I know that He loves me. I know that all the things that have transpired in a lifetime Satan meant for evil, but my Lord intends to use them for His good.

And as I write this, I can hear my children down the hall singing from Matthew West's song, Only Grace, these words, "there's only grace, there's only love, there's only mercy and believe me, it's enough, your sins are gone without a trace, there's nothing left now, there's only grace". The Lord has freed first me, and then my children. I am so blessed. I am so very very blessed.