"He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted" Isaiah 61:1

Few things feel more vulnerable than a broken heart. 

 Life's way of reacting to a crushed heart is to wrap tough sinews of flesh around it and tempt us to promise we'll never let ourselves get hurt again.

That's  not God's way.

Self-made fortresses built to protect our hearts not only keep love from going out, they keep love from coming in.

We risk becoming captives of our own protective fortresses.

Only God can put the pieces of our hearts back together again, close up the wounds, and bind them with a porous bandage that protects from infection...

but keeps the heart free to inhale and exhale love.

Beth Moore

Breaking Free

There is no doubt...Love Hurts.

Recently I was reading some articles relating to homeschooling that used the term “guard your heart.”  I forgot about this term that was so freely thrown around in homeschool circles years ago and was reminded how odd I always thought it was.

The “guarding your heart” philosophy was used to describe how a single person should interact with the opposite sex.  Guard your heart and you are saving what belongs only to your future spouse.  Guard your heart, don’t get too close, until you are sure of God’s will and then you will not get hurt.  Protect yourself from people. 

  Sounds like a good idea, the only problem is it is not biblical.  The verse that uses this phrase (Proverbs 4:23) is talking about guarding ourselves from sin, not people.  The fact of the matter is that we are called to love and love hard.  In doing so, we will get hurt.  Being vulnerable with people can lead to a great supportive relationship, or we can be left humiliated and devastated.  It is normal and healthy to experience both in ones lifetime many times over.  I love C.S. Lewis’ thoughts on the subject.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

My heart has been broken many times over by the very people I love the most.  The people who know me best have the ability to wound me the deepest.  There is no amount of heart guarding that can prevent this from happening.  If you never “fall in love” with any one other than your spouse, your heart still will be broken.  People are not perfect and they sin.  This will break your heart.  People are not immune and they suffer both mentally and physically.  This will break your heart.  People are not immortal and they die.  This will break your heart.

What matters is how you decided to deal with the broken heart you will inevitably have.  For years my marriage was very painful and I chose to close myself off from the pain. My heart became a little hard knot.  In trying to protect myself from the pain, I became unable to love.  I became harsh and critical.  In recovery I learned I did not have to protect myself, or be guarded.  I just needed to accept things how they were and quit trying to change everything and everyone.  In doing so, my heart slowly thawed and became big and fluffy, bigger and fluffier than ever before... just like the Grinch’s.   I might conclude that a relationship is not healthy for me and decide to end it or take a break from it but I no longer close myself off because of it.  I accept the pain that I am feeling and do not try to hurry up and make it go away by hardening my heart.  I have learned that embracing the pain, instead of denying it, causes growth and an ability to love even more and better in the future. 

In regards to sin, then yes we should guard our heart but in regards to people the Bible is clear.

1 Peter 4:8
Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. 

Flaming Marshmallows and Other Warnings.

I recently lost my sanity and invited two 4^th grade math classes over for a hot dog roast.  I actually do this on a regular basis and it occurred to me that a similar dynamic happens every time.  Even though we have spent a whole school year together and are very familiar with one another at school, they enter my house very tentatively.  They sort of hide behind their parents for a little bit and have to be coaxed into playing one of the games at first.  Soon they start warming up and the fun begins.  We have a great time for a few hours and then it starts to break down.  They forget themselves and their manners and start literally climbing the furniture and the trees.  Flaming marshmallows start getting flung around and just before disaster happens their parents show up.  Their parents’ presence reminds them of what is considered acceptable and right.  The main governing force in their lives brings them back to a place of healthy and good behavior immediately.

It struck me that this same dynamic can be seen in recovery over and over.  We come to Celebrate Recovery very tentative and scared.  We are fearful to admit we have a problem, we are fearful that we might not fit in and we are fearful about not knowing anyone there.  Soon, however, we meet great people whom we can identify with and realize that we do indeed have issues that need working on.  We start meeting with a small open share group, join a 12 step study and start working the program.  We might even start volunteering to help with the details of running the ministry and soon we have fellowship with people like us, often for the first time in our lives.  But inevitably, we reach a point were we tend to forget ourselves and why we are there and we stop working the program.  We don’t call people like we used to, we quit journaling and examining ourselves on a daily basis.  The difference between the 4^th grade math party and CR is that no one is coming just before the disaster happens.  There is no parent that is coming to tell us to knock it off, or to hold our hand when we are getting a little out of control.  We are now grown up and must do this for ourselves.  We must not believe the lie that we are “cured” and are done with all that recovery stuff now.  We must parent ourselves and require ourselves to do what is right and healthy even when we don’t want to.

I love a party as much as the next person, whether it’s with 4^th graders or my CR friends.  It is true, the fellowship of CR makes it easy to go but it is the constant work that makes life better for me and for those around me.  And when you come over to roast marshmallows I promise I won’t fling one at you.  This is the one area that I think I really am cured.

10 Cool Things About My Dad!

• My dad took us on awesome vacations.  He even took us out of school for a week every year to go snow skiing.
• My dad would often surprise us and pulled into Foster’s Freeze to buy us an ice cream cone.
• My dad went to a Father/Daughter dinner with me for Campfire girls once.  I thought it was totally boring.  He must have hated it but never let on.
• My dad taught me to catch and hit.  Although I look like a girl doing it…because I am one…I am good at it.
• My dad was the scary dad.  If boys came over, I knew they must really like me.
• My dad made sure I had the exact car I wanted when getting my first car.  I loved that car so much I kept it for over 10 years.
• My dad taught me to be a hard worker and do the job right the first time.
• My dad would hand me a twenty when I asked to borrow five bucks.
• My dad blustered for years about how when I was done with school and working full time I would have to pay rent.  When that time came he wouldn’t take my money.
• My dad loves and takes care of his big extended family.  He would be there in a second if any of us needed him.

Happy Father's day Dad. I love you!

When Death Comes

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom; taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

Excerpt from When Death Comes by Mary Oliver

I Am A Military Mom

I cannot remember a time when old war movies were not the favorite at our house.  If it was about war or if it starred John Wayne, it had to be watched no matter how many times we had seen it before.  If it was about war AND John Wayne was in it, we MUST own it.  Soon costumes were included and the local army surplus store became a favorite place to spend allowance and birthday money.  I started to think that maybe all these black and white, bloodless movies might be giving the wrong impression.  I decided that what my sons needed was a big dose of reality.  I knew just the ticket.  At some ridiculously young age we took them to see Saving Private Ryan.  I knew this would sober them up and they would now think of war in a much more serious way and not be so enamored by it.  Nope. 

As they grew up and Little League was replaced by competitive debate, their interest in war expanded to public policy, both domestic and foreign, and a new interest was sparked.  Civic duty.  It started to seem like their interest was not a mere interest but a calling.  Joseph started working hard in school to be able to receive an appointment to the US Naval Academy and Andrew, compelled by the loss of a childhood friend killed in Iraq, enlisted in the Marines.

In the fall of 2005, we sent both boys off to get ready for their life in the military.  We dropped Joseph off at a prep school to further his chances at an Academy appointment and we put Andrew on a bus headed to San Diego for Marine basic training.  My life has not been the same since.  I was pushed into the deep end of a culture I knew nothing about. I learned quickly.  I went from constant communication and contact with my boys to nothing. Nada. Zilch.  The military does not care that you miss them.  The military does not care you sleep with your phone in case they call.  The military does not care that you missed the call and so does not give them another chance to call.  The military cares about one thing.  They care about preparing them so they can do a job and hopefully stay alive doing it.  It did not take long before this was the only thing I cared about also.

December 2005 we went to pick up our boys, but men had replaced them.  Joseph now had experiences he needed to enter the Academy and be able to make it through the next four rigorous years.  Andrew stood lean, erect, and proud to have made it through the toughest boot camp of the US armed forces and was ready to join a special Marine unit call FAST Company.  They were ready and so was I.

Moms often say to me, “Oh, I couldn’t do it!”  The fact is I didn’t have a choice.  I went from homeschool mom, who was with them 24/7, to military mom over night.  Their calling had to became mine, their duty had to became mine, but their honor and pride became mine also.  There are no words that can express the honor I feel in being able to have raised those boys and you have only to look upon my face to see the pride of the men they have become.

To those of you who have served or are serving, and for the moms of those who "gave their last full measure of devotion," I salute you on this Memorial Day, 2011.

Trust Trumps Love

I had an epiphany this week. I am not really sure what an epiphany is but I am pretty sure I had one. I realized that it is okay that I have never felt unloved by God. I actually don’t really get it when people say they have never felt loved, not even by God. What makes them so much more unworthy than the rest of us that God would not love them? So what part of me grasps onto God for dear life and causes me to cry out “Abba Father” if it is not the part that needs to be loved?

(Here is where the epiphany comes in)

It is the part that needs to trust. I have never doubted that I am loved by the people around me. But these same people have hurt me deeply because they were not trustworthy at some point or another. When addiction is a part of your life there may be love but there is little trust. There is an old recovery joke that says how do you know when an addict is lying…when their lips are moving. When I finally realized God was the trustworthy One, I could finally rest and turn control of my life over to Him.

It is trust that I crave and truth breeds trust and God is Truth. He is the best kind of truth. Not the harsh kind of truth that I tend to dish out. Not the “good parts only” kind of truth that flatters and is usually used to further an agenda, but the best kind of truth. The kind that helps me see my strengths and how they can be used and gently points out my sin and character flaws in order to correct them. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for God’s love but if I had to choose, I would choose trust. In the Rochambeau game of life, trust trumps love every time in my book.

I am unworthy and 100% untrustworthy but God keeps his promises to me anyway. I am unlovable for sure and still God has my whole life planned out and under control. I love Truth and I am certain, with every fiber of my being, that He loves me.