I read an interesting sentence by one of my favorite writers, Paula D'Arcy. "When Love moves, it sometimes destroys - but for our sake. Everything that is not Love, falls away."
When I first read that I felt despair. Did it mean that God was destroying my son, an addict? Or just me. I didn't understand it and I didn't want to understand it. I was afraid it would be too hard. After sitting with it for almost two weeks, journaling about it and then finally talking about it with my sponsor, my understanding changed. As I read the words aloud, it became clear that Ms. D'Arcy wasn't talking about God destroying my child - or me - but only that when I became aware of Love (capital L), all that was not Love in my life would no longer be important to me. No longer be necessary. No longer needed to defend what I "thought" was love and needed to protect because, out of fear, I thought it was all I had. All I would ever have.
A friend talks to me about "waking up" to her life. I feel as if I am waking up to Love. It is my focus. For this moment.
What does Love look like in your life? What does love look like? Is there a difference? Would you know?
God, show me the difference in my life.
Persevere With Joy!
Friday, April 3, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Am I done suffering?
Holding on to character defects - to fear - as painful as it is, is still easier than letting it go. I know myself, even if I don't like all of me. The judgmental, critical me that is so defensive, is familiar. Becoming a kinder, gentler, accepting person is harder than I thought. I guess I thought that if I just wanted to be this kinder person, God would make it happen. But I have to think about it. About what I say before it comes out of my mouth. And even when it "looks" like I've changed, I still hear all that old junk in my head. And I know it's born out of fear. My own fear that I'm not enough. So I have to focus on what I think someone else's defects are. They're fat. They're immature. They're vain. They're controlling. They're . . .whatever. When I'm focusing on them, I'm not looking at myself. What is the need in me that I would continue to think unkind thoughts about others? Maybe I'm not done suffering. Yet. But I want to be. Soon.
Persevere. With Joy.
Persevere. With Joy.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
In the beginning. . .
I wasn't born looking forward to the time when I could be miserable and make everyone around me miserable. But I got there.
Raised in a military family, I chose to get married at 17 (right out of high school) rather than move to Hawaii. Marriage - even to someone I knew I didn't love - seemed far more bearable than being the "new kid on the block" again and living with parents that (at the time) I hated. Even as I write this I'm aware that perhaps God was at work in that decision. I think I would have succumbed to a pretty unhealthy life-style: drugs, partying. Anything to fill that hole inside. As it was I stuck to alcohol - minimal amounts since I was a cheap drunk and didn't like not being in control - money, food and relationships. Like that's not a healthy life-style. Right. After 6 years of marriage and a beautiful 2 year old son, I got the feeling (God?) that love and marriage were meant to be more than this. More than just "existing." Had an affair and realized I could attract men. I got divorced. Surprised everyone - including my husband, who was a good guy. Spent the next two years sleeping my way through the misery. Lived paycheck to paycheck, running up credit card debt and developing a really nasty opinion of myself. The thoughts had always been there: I wasn't pretty enough, smart enough, talented enough - good enough. Certainly not for God. Or my parents. I vowed I'd never be that kind of parent to my children. And I wasn't. I provided my older son with a whole other set of painful circumstances and memories. I thought I was different. Terminally unique.
I re-married at 26. He was a "preacher's kid" and a Viet Nam Vet. I thought I could fix him and that he would be my "knight in shining armor." He never had a chance. I pursued him until he married me. When my son was 10, he adopted him. We had a son together just 2 years later. We moved when the boys were 13 and 1. My older son began exhibiting behavior problems at around age 5 (and we'd already moved 4 times). I looked for the solution everywhere but in myself. By the time he was a teenager and progressed to drugs, I was ready to do whatever I needed to do to fix him. Even if it meant fixing me. I started to grow up at 38.
That was more than 20 years ago, 3 separate rehabs, 2 children of his own and prison. I got better. He got worse. He's married now and doing "pot maintenance." I see the kids but stay pretty detached from his life. I'm the only one in my family in recovery and don't have much of a relationship with my sisters. But I was able to be with my Dad as he died 2 years ago and not have regrets about what I wish I had said or done. Our relationship was clean. And my Mom continues to surprise me with her willingness to grow in her relationship with me. So you'd think I'd have this "letting go" thing down by now. Living in the world and being in relationships continue to offer me challenges (opportunities). Some days I do great. Some days I feel like I haven't learned a thing. But I find if I'm willing, God shows up and teaches me. My job is to be teachable. Through the pain as well as through the joy.
What have you learned to day?
Persevere with joy!
Raised in a military family, I chose to get married at 17 (right out of high school) rather than move to Hawaii. Marriage - even to someone I knew I didn't love - seemed far more bearable than being the "new kid on the block" again and living with parents that (at the time) I hated. Even as I write this I'm aware that perhaps God was at work in that decision. I think I would have succumbed to a pretty unhealthy life-style: drugs, partying. Anything to fill that hole inside. As it was I stuck to alcohol - minimal amounts since I was a cheap drunk and didn't like not being in control - money, food and relationships. Like that's not a healthy life-style. Right. After 6 years of marriage and a beautiful 2 year old son, I got the feeling (God?) that love and marriage were meant to be more than this. More than just "existing." Had an affair and realized I could attract men. I got divorced. Surprised everyone - including my husband, who was a good guy. Spent the next two years sleeping my way through the misery. Lived paycheck to paycheck, running up credit card debt and developing a really nasty opinion of myself. The thoughts had always been there: I wasn't pretty enough, smart enough, talented enough - good enough. Certainly not for God. Or my parents. I vowed I'd never be that kind of parent to my children. And I wasn't. I provided my older son with a whole other set of painful circumstances and memories. I thought I was different. Terminally unique.
I re-married at 26. He was a "preacher's kid" and a Viet Nam Vet. I thought I could fix him and that he would be my "knight in shining armor." He never had a chance. I pursued him until he married me. When my son was 10, he adopted him. We had a son together just 2 years later. We moved when the boys were 13 and 1. My older son began exhibiting behavior problems at around age 5 (and we'd already moved 4 times). I looked for the solution everywhere but in myself. By the time he was a teenager and progressed to drugs, I was ready to do whatever I needed to do to fix him. Even if it meant fixing me. I started to grow up at 38.
That was more than 20 years ago, 3 separate rehabs, 2 children of his own and prison. I got better. He got worse. He's married now and doing "pot maintenance." I see the kids but stay pretty detached from his life. I'm the only one in my family in recovery and don't have much of a relationship with my sisters. But I was able to be with my Dad as he died 2 years ago and not have regrets about what I wish I had said or done. Our relationship was clean. And my Mom continues to surprise me with her willingness to grow in her relationship with me. So you'd think I'd have this "letting go" thing down by now. Living in the world and being in relationships continue to offer me challenges (opportunities). Some days I do great. Some days I feel like I haven't learned a thing. But I find if I'm willing, God shows up and teaches me. My job is to be teachable. Through the pain as well as through the joy.
What have you learned to day?
Persevere with joy!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
