Category: Personal Thoughts

Posted on in Identity, Personal Thoughts, Spirituality

Going Through the Desert

When I learned I would be relocating to the Desert as my new home, I did not want to go. This wasn’t my plan. In fact, I didn’t really have a specific plan. I was very open to going wherever a new adventure could be found. There were only two places I did not want to go; an island or a desert.

I decided to say “Yes, I will go” in my heart rather than approach this change with resentment. I was determined to make the best of the situation. That included doing a lot of research, talking to people who had been there, and trying to prepare myself for something I had never experienced and couldn’t comprehend. Everything about the desert and the big city I was headed to was foreign to me. I had no idea the scale to which these new things would be; bigger than my imagination.

Arriving was overwhelming. Anything familiar was absent. The environment was dirty and depressing. The people were strange and sometimes cruel. Within the first year my heart had moved into a spiritual desert as well. Despite trying to connect I found myself feeling very isolated. Then the shaky ground in my home and marriage began to crumble. I didn’t even recognize my life as my own anymore. So I turned my focus onto myself looking for some relief.

A year in the desert revealed my weakness and I began to think from a perspective of survival. I lost my sight for anything but what was in front of me. For another year I lived in a world of emotional escape. I checked out of life emotionally and just moved through one day at a time, appeasing the “desires of the flesh” because attention, approval, and the substances that numbed my senses and my pain were tangible comforts. I got lost in myself.

For a time, I thought I was coping with my devastation quite well. I was lonely but never alone. I was happy when I could quiet the discomfort. My life had the appearance of tidy tension; it was a difficult moment but I was holding it together. Inside I was spiraling into feeling hopeless and lost. The more difficulty that appeared at home, in my marriage, in my husband’s health, in the needs of my children, the further I hid away emotionally. Distance became my buffer because I couldn’t handle the weight of everything alone.

The reality which I can see clearly now is that I chose isolation even though it hurt me. In a moment of weakness, I believed my senses over truth. I saw darkness. I heard silence. I felt overwhelmed and confused. I unconsciously chose to believe my perception over God’s truth. “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9.

I had a strong faith from childhood. Throughout the years I have encountered things that shook my faith. I have watched people fail and been hurt deeply a few times along the way. I’ve experienced moments of doubt, self-reliance, and rebellion. Always, God is faithful. When people fail, Jesus has already won. When people cause wounds, Jesus heals. I know this because I’ve lived it. I have failed more than I want to admit but my failure has never changed God’s heart for me.

I really understood this after I came out of my season in the desert. I missed out on so much by agreeing with my fears instead of agreeing with my Savior. You see, my struggle did not change my position. Reaching the lowest low of my life did not dictate my identity as a child of God. “For you are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus.” Galatians 3:26. I’m still learning to trust God with all of my heart and lean not on my own understanding (Proverbs 3:5). Surely, I know that my understanding is colored by emotions, circumstances, and my own perception.

I left the desert and returned to my old home. I never thought I would relate to the prodigal son. Yet, through the embrace of people who love Jesus I experienced once again the tangible love of Jesus. I recognized how far I had wandered and when I decided to run back I found nothing but love. Now that I am home, physically and spiritually, I am listening to my Father’s voice and understanding who I am on a deeper level than I have ever known before. I can’t hold regret for lost time because I am thankful for the contrast. Darkness cannot hide light. It was in my greatest weakness that I discovered I need to lean on His strength.

Posted on in Identity, Personal Thoughts

How does race define me?

 

 

Stereotypes exist because people fill the role. I don’t think this is a bad thing in itself. Some stereotypes are very negative and hurtful however. Everyone has the power to be subject to their stereotypes or change the behavior that makes them. Throughout my life I have fit stereotypes in the roles of a mother, a wife, a student, a counselor, etc., and yes… as a white woman.

I spent my early years with a secret anger. People who celebrated their heritage or had cultural customs put me off. I was raised in a non-biological family (for the most part) in which both of my parents were adopted and I lacked knowledge about my roots. Eventually in my teen years we would meet some biological family and learn little bits and pieces but there were a lot of closed doors containing skeletons. Let’s be honest, adoption is never the choice when everything is peachy.

At a certain point in my adult life not knowing got the best of my curiosity. So I began to research. Eventually I completed a DNA test. The results were hugely disappointing. I learned that DNA can’t actually tell you where you are from but it will generate a ton of possibilities. I decided that I wouldn’t stop there. I had questions and wanted answers. So I studied genomic raw data analysis and started to analyse my own raw DNA. I spent many months doing genealogy research side by side with my own DNA analysis and eventually I had some breakthroughs. After a couple years of this process, I was able to identify all four of my biological grandparents and subsequently the generations before them. I traced my roots right back to the countries of origin. I actually wrote a post on this journey in March 2018.

What is important for this piece is that I found some amazing, rich history in my bloodlines. I also found truths behind the secrets. My parents were both adopted out because of twisted, dark family secrets. My grandparents had pasts that were reprehensible. Yet, my own existence proves a new story can be written.

The choices of my ancestors are not mine. I hold no responsibility or guilt for their decisions. These are people that in other circumstances I would have called Grandma or Grandpa. Yet, I do not even bear those family names. I may share some of their physical features but my values and character came from a different family source. I was blessed to be born and raised in very different circumstances and I am thankful for that.

If in one generation an entire family history can be reset and written from scratch; why do people insist on holding the faults and failures of others over an entire cultural group? This I will never understand because my personal journey is not compatible with such thinking. Every race and background has individuals and groups of people who are remembered for bad decisions. In some cases, race has been used to proposition people as superior or inferior. It happens today among groups small and large. I can’t deny this, though I don’t agree with it. I believe culture and heritage should be shared passions and interests. This is the part of my heritage that defines me.

How do we, as a society, move towards respecting individuals and cultural differences in a way that removes the “us versus them” negativity while honoring and preserving differences that make culture unique and beautiful?

Posted on in Identity, Personal Thoughts

Discovering My Story

As a child I loved stories. I loved to read stories as much as I loved to write my own. My first published story was titled “The Purple Plum Tree” and I was in the third grade when I wrote it.

My own story became one of heartbreak and loss when I was just an adolescent girl. I had so much hurt which I did not author and could not erase from my life. So I resented my own story and severed that passion to protect my heart. Decades later I would learn that there is great healing in following passion because in that passion lies purpose. 

I stopped writing stories. Then I stopped reading them, too. I became resentful when I would hear someone else’s story. Maybe it was envy that stirred that bitterness because my own story was silenced. Maybe I was trying to lose the identity that I associated with pain. In doing so, I lost myself. Something interesting happens when you become lost; you wander but you don’t disappear. 

True passion never dies. It waits. It fights to break free at the slightest light breaking through into the darkness where it is hidden. There was a season in my life of personal revelation and growth. I was forced to read a book called To Be Told by Dan. B. Allender, Ph.D. for a class I was attending. *Spoiler Alert* It is a book about stories! In that moment, in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia, I encountered people who changed my life by allowing me to tell parts of my story that had never been authored before. My soul was shaken in that season and the hard ground of my heart was watered and my passion broke forth. I was left with a longing to live my story.

The journey of self discovery I have been on since then has lead me to a realization. I actually have three stories. They are; What I Am, Why I Am, and Who I Am. 

What I Am, has been a mystery to me for most of my life. This is my DNA; the physical components which have constructed my form and made me human. I come from a unique family in which both of my parents were adopted. In the last couple years I have begun to explore that part of my history. An analogy; You may see a standing, tall oak tree. That tree would not be there if not for an acorn and that acorn had fallen from another oak tree. If a sycamore seed had fallen you would find a different tree. You call the tree by the name of it’s characteristics which share a common lineage. There is a story behind what I am, my characteristics. I am short, with blue gypsy eyes, and a glowing red in my auburn hair that must come from somewhere.

Why I Am, is the story I know best. This is the beliefs, values, and examples that have been given to me from my parents, family, and others. It’s the long version answer to “Why I do the things I do.” It’s the version of my story which I rejected for so long. If our acorn falls in a forest, the oak will root deep and grow tall. It will hold nests and burrows and have a purpose in being home. If that acorn falls in a sidewalk it will grow much differently. It’s purpose may be shade for a home instead. Why I am the way I am is because of an environment and the nurturing of  people in my life. Sometimes the what and the why stem from the same introduction but in my particular story one has not much to do with the other. As I’ve walked through my life, I’ve come to realize that this story includes sorrow and pain, as well as joy and success, but it is all part of my story.

Who I Am, is the reason for all the rest. It is the essence and purpose of my existence. Who I am came forth through generations of “what” and was placed into the circumstances of “why” in order to develop the revelation of Who I am in this moment of my life. In the oak analogy, the Who is much more than an oak or any characteristic of the environment or the acorn itself. It is the germ of the seed which has carried on through every generation back to the original. You see, Who I am was predestined from long before the first oak tree.

“According as he hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before him in love: having predestinated us unto the adoption of children by Jesus Christ to himself, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of the glory of his grace, wherein he hath made us accepted in the beloved.” Ephesians 1:4-6 KJV

Every part of my story was written to point to who I am. And who I am points to who Jesus is. Despite all the hurt, rejection and failure of my own life and the generations before me; my life is full of love and redemption. God is love. 1 John 4:8. Christ is the Redeemer. Galatians 3:13.

I am living my story.