April is Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month

This is not a fun topic. The statistics are chilling.

One in six women will be sexually assaulted. 44% are under the age of 18.

College age women are 4 times more likely to be sexually assaulted.

Every TWO MINUTES someone in the U.S. is sexually assaulted.

The even scarier part of these numbers is that it is estimated that 60% of sexual assaults are not reported to the police.

The awful, sad, horrible truth is that approximately 73% of victims know their assailants. 93% of juvenile victims know their attacker. 32% of perpetrators of sexual assault are family members.

As I have mentioned before in this blog, I was sexually molested when I was 12 years old by a family member. It is my family’s best-kept secret that is no secret. It is my understanding that most everybody in my family knows that I said that this happened. I phrase it like that because I think most of them don’t want to believe that it did happen. If they actually believed that it happened, they’d have to deal with it and do something about it.
In my family, I was sacrificed for the well-being of my assailant’s wife and child. It would have been too tragic for them, I suppose, to really bring this out into the light. It would have caused too much family disruption for them. Whether they understood it or not, they were all actively deciding that it was better for the tragedy to rest solely with me, to cause me disruption for the rest of my life, than to try to protect me or bring a deviant pedophile to justice.

Tragically, there is a long, documented history of families turning a blind eye to sexual assualt. Did you know that King David, yes, the one from the Bible, the one who wrote so many of the Psalms, did nothing when he discovered that his daughter, beautiful Tamar, had been brutally raped by his son, Amnon. It was recorded that he was furious, but that he did nothing. Nothing. A king, chosen by God to be king, who had slain the giant Goliath when he was only a teenager, who had fought many battles, did nothing for his daughter. David's other son, Absalom, eventually killed Amnon, then plotted to overthrow his father. Thus began the complete unraveling of David's family. It's an amazing story that takes place in 2 Samuel.

David never rose to Tamar's help and it cost him dearly. His son Absalom avenged Tamar's abuse by killing Amnon, David's other son. Again David said and did nothing. Absalom fled Jersusalem for three years. When he returned, David refused to see him for two years. Eventually David was overthrown and cast out of the city he founded. Even though David was ultimately returned to power, his son Absalom was killed and David was devastated, understanding how much he had lost by his inaction.

It is clear that, when regarding how David treated his family, God was not pleased at all.

Is it any wonder that 60% of sexual assaults are not reported to the police?? Sexual abuse can and does destroy families, indeed multiple generations of families. But it is NOT the fault of the victim.

Ignoring it, pretending it didn't happen, does NOT make it go away. It only takes a horrible situation and makes it worse. Twelve year olds are unlikely to go to the authorities by themselves, especially when they are counting on their parents and families to come to their aid and defense. Every day, beautiful daughters are sacrificed because families are afraid of what will happen it they come forward. Far better that they should be afraid of what will happen if they don't.

I have, after many years of trauma and self-destructive behavior, finally come to terms with not only what happened, but why people did what they did. I have learned to forgive my family, not for their sakes, but for my own. Hatred, bitterness, anger, and confusion eat away at you like a cancer.

Want proof?Victims of sexual assault are:

3 times more likely to suffer from depression
6 time more likely to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder
13 times more likely to abuse alcohol
26 times more likely to abuse drugs
4 times more likely to contemplate suicide.

I have experienced and suffered from all of those things. Broken people want desperately to be fixed and most of us spend a large majority of our lives trying to do that with drugs, alcohol and sex. Anything to fill the hole left by the person that took away our innocence and dignity. When we realize that drugs, alcohol, and sex don’t fill the hole, we begin to believe the lie that we’ll never be whole. We’ll never be helped. Enter depression and suicidal thoughts. Enter more drugs and alcohol.

I finally decided that, for me to get free and finally have my life back, I could not spend one more minute being eaten alive by the blackness and the cancer and the lie that I would never be whole and healthy again.

Forgiveness is not about the perpetrator. It’s about taking your life back. Forgiving someone does not mean that you’re saying, “what you did to me is ok”. It means that you’re saying, “I’m letting this go because you are a tragically sick person and I have given you enough of my life already. I am not giving you any more.”

The next step in taking back my life is taking back the tragedy. If I use what happened to me to help other people either avoid being assaulted, or help them find their way back to health and wholeness after being hurt, then what happened to me ceases to be a tragedy. It becomes a victory. Yes, it was awful and horrible that it happened. But as I say all the time, THAT IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY. Or at least, it doesn’t have to be.

What happened to me when I was 12 years old becomes just that--something that happened to me. It isn't me. It doesn’t define who I am. God designed and defined who I am, even before I was born. That is where I take my definition, my direction, my validation. And God says I’m not done yet. God says I am so much more than a victim.

I refuse to lay down and die slowly for the next 50 years just because another sick, twisted, broken person hurt me 27 years ago. He took my innocence. He took my family. I had no father to speak of and after that happened, I lost my mother. She’s always been in my life, but at that moment, I learned that she didn’t have my best interest at heart and that I could not trust her to take care of me. I learned that if someone was going to take care of me, it was going to have to be me. I wasted years thinking I had to rely on myself. I was just as broken and twisted and sick as the man who did this to me and I mistakenly believed that I was all I had. Talk about despair. Talk about from the frying pan into the fire.

I have learned that I am not all I have. I have learned that I have a heavenly father who does have my best interest at heart, who I can trust, who will take care of me, and who will come to my aid and defense against those who would seek to harm me. He has healed my broken heart, my broken mind, and my broken spirit. Like it says in the banner of this blog, "the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings". Romans 8:31 says, "If God is for us, who can ever be against us?"

He can and will do that for you, too. It is my goal to use the experience of not just what happened to me, but more importantly, what happened after that, to help others.
If you have been assaulted, get help. If your family won’t listen to you or help you, tell a teacher, or a church member, or a friend, or get on the web and go to www.rainn.org. There is an online hotline or you can call 1-800-656-HOPE.

If someone in your family or one of your friends tells you that this has happened to them, HELP THEM. Don’t ignore them. If you read in the paper, or got onto msnbc.com and read about a 38 year old man sexually assaulting a child, you’d be outraged. Hell would not be hot enough for this person. Why would it be different if that man was in your family and married to your sister? It’s no less heinous a crime because you’ve known him all your life and never thought he’d do anything like this.

If you’re dealing with an assault that happened years ago and you’ve been trying to fill the hole and fix the brokenness with false solutions, please know that it can be better. I have been where you are and I know it can be better. It can even be amazing and glorious and fantastic. Not just for me, but for everybody. God is not just my heavenly father. He is desperately waiting and wanting to be there for you, too. We are his children and I believe he hurts when we hurt.

There is hope for the hopeless. There is healing for the broken. There is joy for the broken-hearted. There is help for the helpless.

The rest of your life can be different. Please, get help.

One Very Long, Very Wonderful Year

I’m so excited. I had my sobriety birthday on February 10, 2009. It was truly amazing and surreal. I am so grateful and humbled by the mercy and grace that God has shown me, throughout my whole life, but in particular this last year.

How much sweeter life is today. How much more vivid, clear and rewarding. I am happy to report that I have not thrown up one single time in the past year. I remember everything that happened at every party, gathering , or event that I went to in the past year. I have not had one hangover in a year. For me, these are pretty amazing achievements. I could have done none of it by myself. But I can do all things through God, who strengthens me (Philippians 4:13).

There have been many times throughout this year that I wanted to drink. The memories of how life was when I was drinking are painful, but I have prayed that I never forget them. I may want to drink, but I never want to live like that again. I never want to put myself through that again and I never want to put my family through that again.

My husband and my kids are far easier on me than I am on myself. I always seemed to “manage” my drinking fairly well, I guess, at least as far as they were concerned. I tried to keep my drinking limited to when my kids weren’t around (or else I just kept it hidden) so when I finally did claim my addiction they were actually kind of surprised. My husband was with me during a lot of my drinking but when I would get really drunk I would be at a party or a gathering, so I guess he didn’t think it was too out of the ordinary. Plus, we hung out with a pretty fast, hard partying crowd, so I was certainly no worse than anyone else. This of course, was no accident. I wound up surrounding myself with people who were like me to make myself feel “Ok”. What Todd didn’t know (or didn’t want to acknowledge) was how much I drank on my own. Not enough to get blind, runnin’ drunk, but if there was bourbon in the house, I couldn’t wait to have that first drink after I’d gotten everybody settled in at night. Eventually the first drink came earlier and earlier after I got home from work.

Todd used to joke that “an open bottle is an empty bottle” , but it wasn’t a joke, it was true. After he’d said that a couple of times, I began to hear it in my head when I would drink. I loved wine, but I would “pace myself” so that I could prove him wrong. I would space it out so that a bottle would last sometimes three days. A Victory! Three whole days. While I congratulated myself on proving him wrong, that I could leave wine in the bottle, I THOUGHT about it CONSTANTLY. It literally called to me.

Drinking, whether I was doing it, thinking about it, wishing I could do it, feeling guilty about doing it, or recovering from doing it, was all-consuming.

And, as much as I loved wine, bourbon was absolutely my drink of choice. It was soooooo good right up until the moment it all went soooooo bad. We kept it under the sink and I would just think about it all the time. I could see it in my mind’s eye, just sitting there.
I also tried to manage my drinking by not buying any bourbon. That would work ok for awhile, until Todd bought some. Then I would “treat myself” since it had been awhile since I’d had any. Then we were off to the races again.

Life, “Part Deux” (Hot Shots reference for geeks like me!), has proven to be at times painful, stressful, and way too real. But most of the time, it is beautiful. Even if my kids never realized how it affected me, I knew it. I knew how much I had robbed them, and especially myself, of time spent with them. They’re young, they think they’re immortal. I realize all too well that life is short and it is precious. Every second counts and I have wasted far too many of them.

My dad was an alcoholic and he died when he was 51. I’ll be 39 in less than a month. He died never knowing freedom from his bondage, from his pain. I couldn’t help him when he was alive and I certainly can’t help him now. But I can learn from him. His life and death were such a wasteful tragedy. But if I can learn from him, and if I can help others like us, then perhaps it will not have been for nothing.

I think about him all the time. We never had a good relationship. I know he loved me as much as he could, but his addiction was stronger than any love that he had for anyone. I wish I could tell him, though, that I get it. That I understand. I did forgive him and I did tell him that I forgave him before he died. I hope he heard me.

I have had so much joy in the past year. So many blessings. For every time I’ve felt stressed, I’ve had multiple times when I’ve felt like the luckiest woman in the world. Life is good. Really, really good.

My AA group has been such an incredible lifeline for me. I have felt so at home and so comfortable with these women, in a way I have never felt anywhere before. Nobody looks at me like I have two heads in those rooms. There is such acceptance and love and support. We celebrated our “AA” birthdays at our meeting last night and, as happy as I was for myself, all of those women were just as happy for me. There are women in our group that have less than a month sobriety and women that have 13 years, and every level in between. But every one of us knows what it feels like to stop drinking and to work every day to stay stopped. We are all there to lift each other up, to celebrate each other’s joys and to help each other through our hard times. I am so grateful to have found them.

If anyone reading this struggles like I have, I pray that you will find peace. I pray that you would call your local AA chapter or go to www.aa.org and get more information. There can be peace. There can be joy. Life can be beautiful again. These are not just my promises. God’s grace and mercy and love is not just for me. It’s for everyone that says, even in the tiniest, smallest voice, like I did a year ago, “I cannot do this alone, God. I need your help.”
God, thank you for my sobriety. Thank you for life. Thank you for second, and third, and fourth chances. Thank you for never giving up on me, even when I had given up on myself. Thank you for being my soft place to fall. Thank you for the women in my AA group. I pray that I use the gifts you have given me to help others know your love and know the peace you want for them. It is through you that I got sober and it is through you that I stay sober. I pray that I never take my sobriety for granted or become smug, but that I remember every day to take it one day at a time, one step at a time. Stay with me, Lord, and help me continue to grow in my sobriety. It is in your holy name that I pray, Amen.

Amaryllis

I’m a writer, and yet all too often I get caught up in waiting for the perfect thing to write about before I write anything. Waiting for perfection before I begin. Waiting for all of the conditions to be right. This quote I read last week said “how you do anything is usually how you do everything”. Is this true? Is this true about me? In my mind, I’m the last person that would get caught up waiting for perfection, but is it possible that I do?

And is it really that I want it to be perfect or am I just using that as an excuse because what I’m really dealing with is fear? That’s more probable. Knowing me, I feel certain the fear has more to do with success than with failure. Failure I have down-pat. I can do failure all day long. Success, however, is a whole ‘nother Oprah.

My mom gave me an Amaryllis before Christmas. It bloomed right around Christmas and it was beautiful. It came in this really gorgeous thick glass square vase. On Thursday, I noticed that the bloom had died and I thought to myself that it was probably time to cut that stalk down. The dead bloom was looking pretty ragged. I have Gerbera daisies in my flower bed and when these bloom and then die, I cut them down and others grow up in their place. That’s what Gerbera daisies do. I assumed all flowers operate this way. I got sidetracked, though, and busy, and went on about my business without touching it.

We went out of town this weekend for Livia’s volleyball tournament and got home very late Saturday night. I got up late the next morning and it was early afternoon before I sat down in the living room. The vase with the Amaryllis is on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. To my amazement, the stalk I thought was dead had this huge, gorgeous bloom and the other two stalks that had been little short stubby things had shot up 6-8 inches each, both looking like they’ll bloom within days.

It occurred to me there was a life lesson in there, somewhere.

I think it’s all about giving up. Dead is dead, to be sure, but I know less than nothing about flowers in general and even less about Amaryllis, specifically. And yet, without knowing for sure and without being willing to even try to find out, I was willing to assume that this flower was like other flowers, write it off for dead, cut it down and move on with my day. If I had done that, I would have missed the beautiful bloom that I have now, and at least two more that appear to be on their way. I had experienced one bloom and it was beautiful and I was ready to stop there, before I even knew whether or not it was possible that more could be on their way.

If it’s true that how I do anything is how I do everything, what else am I shorting myself on? How many other “blooms” am I cutting off before they have a chance to happen? Scary thought. I pray for God’s blessings in my life, I believe with all my heart that He wants to bless me, but am I letting it happen? Am I cutting down my own stalk before I have a chance to bloom? I suspect this may be true, at least to some extent.

I suspect it may be true that I have lived in survival mode for so long that my tendency is to stop believing and hoping and praying once I’ve received just enough to live on. Even though I desire to live in abundance mode, and I strive to live in abundance mode, survival mode may be stronger than I had thought. I didn’t know enough about the Amaryllis to accurately judge whether it was dead or not and I was willing to cut it down before it reached it’s full potential. Am I really sure that I’ve done enough work and research and gotten all of the information and tried everything there was to try before I give up on an opportunity in my life? Eek.

God speaks about perseverance all throughout the Bible. He is very clear on the fact that He does not want us to give up, most especially when we are doing His work and working within His purpose for our lives. Galatians 6:9 says, “So let us not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up.” A harvest of blessing. Not just one blessing. A harvest of them. Think about a field of corn. A harvest of corn is the entire field, everything. Not just one ear or even one stalk. At just the right time. Not our time, but God’s perfect timing. So what we know is that, at the perfect moment, everything will be given to us. How do we know when the perfect moment is? We don’t. But if we don’t give up, we’ll get there. If we quit before the perfect moment happens, how will we ever receive the harvest?

In addiction recovery, there is a saying. “Don’t give up before the miracle happens.” Life can change in a nano-second. What if the miracle, harvest of blessing, everything good in the whole world, etc., is right around the corner? Can you see that in your mind? It’s happened to everybody. You are walking down the street and around the corner comes somebody that bumps smack into you. You didn’t know they were there, but there they were anyway. Your knowledge of them was irrelevant to their existence.

Isn’t it possible that a harvest of blessing could be right around the corner as well? Who will run smack into your harvest of blessing if we turn off too soon?

I commit today to make sure that I have done all the work, all the research, left no stone unturned, exhausted every avenue, before I cut down anymore stalks. I pray, Lord, that you will make it clear to me when to keep walking on the path and when to turn off. I promise to listen for your voice on my heart in everything so that I will always be living the life that you will bless with a harvest of blessing. Thank you, Lord, for revealing yourself and your truth to me in such simple, delightful ways, so that I may clearly understand. Thank you for the Amaryllis, Lord, and all of the beauty that you have created. I promise to treat your works and wonders, including myself among them, with more care. Amen.

Pardon Me, Do You Validate?

When I was a kid I had a book called “Are You My Mommy?’ by P.D. Eastman. This little bird had apparently gotten lost and went all over the place asking a collection of unlikely animals if they were his mommy. It seemed silly as a kid, as I’m sure was the intention. The little bird, however, apparently had no clue what he was so it didn’t seem at all absurd to him to approach a rhinoceros or a dog to see if they were his mommy.

In my ruminations about validation and purpose, I remembered that book. I can totally relate to this little bird. When you don’t know who you are or what you’re supposed to be, you are constantly looking for yourself in other people. Maybe you’ll see something there you can call your own, or maybe they will be the one who will be able to tell you who you’re supposed to be.

Until recently, I have spent my whole life trying to find myself in other people, which seems a fairly absurd exercise for someone as intelligent as I hear that I am. After all, other people are other people and I am me. Or am I? And if I am, what the hell does that mean? Who am I? Who do I belong to?

The question that’s really being asked, though, goes quite a bit deeper than that.

I believe that God has spoken very clearly about love and how powerful it is. Jesus pretty much focused His entire ministry on love. And we know from the Bible that, of faith, hope and love, love is the greatest. So that tells me that God has instilled within us the ability and desire to do at least three things: to believe, to hope, and to love. Our ability and desire to love, however, will be the strongest of the three.

I believe the reason love is the greatest is that it is relational. You can have faith and hope and still wander this world alone, but to love requires someone else be involved. I believe that God intended for us to be in relationships. Why else would He have designed our bodies to reproduce as a result of coupling? Relationships are absolutely the highest priority to God. Our relationship with Him was broken and He sent us His son, not only to mend the relationship with Him, but to teach us how to connect to each other; to teach us how to love.

One of the only things I know for sure about love is that it needs a target. It needs to go somewhere. Or more accurately, to someone. Humans are supposed to love other humans. We are told to love each other as God loved the church, or rather, as God loves us. That’s a pretty powerful love. God loves us more than anybody, even when we act horrible and spiteful and childish, He loves us more than our human minds and brains can even comprehend, and we are supposed to love each other in this same way. I believe that God wouldn’t tell us to do anything He didn’t give us the ability to do. That must mean that we are, or were originally, designed to love each other this much, in this way. Freddy Mercury, in Queen’s song, “Somebody to Love”, isn’t crying out for somebody to love him, he wants somebody to love. It’s a desperate need within us.

And, as it seems with anything of great value, there is great risk involved. I don’t necessarily think the original intention of love was to be risky and difficult, but perhaps that aspect of it is just another by-product of our brokenness.

Typically, the very first people that humans ever know are their parents. The ideal situation is that parents love their children and raise them in a loving environment, and the children’s initial target for the love within them in their parents. This ideal system teaches children how to love and how to recognize healthy love, the kind of love that God has for us, the kind of love we’re supposed to have for each other. But what if that’s not what happens? What if one or both parents are missing? What if they’re not loving? What happens to all that love that is within us?

In my case, the one missing was my father. My father was an alcoholic, and my mother left him when I was a toddler. All children, but perhaps girls most of all, need to see themselves reflected through the eyes of a loving father. I am a girl and I have a sister and two daughters, so while I am certain that boy children have their own needs and issues with their parents, girls are pretty much what I know. It is widely known and accepted that girls who do not have loving, healthy relationships with their fathers carry this baggage with them into every relationship they have.

For me, I think it was even more significant because I am made up almost completely from genes from my father’s side of the family. It was so strange for me being raised by my mom and interacting with her side of the family and having virtually no contact with my dad’s side of the family until I was around 12 or 13. I have likened it in the past to a giraffe being raised by a bunch of elk—similar, but not at all the same species. I mean, we all had two arms and two legs but my arms and legs never looked like those of my mom’s side of the family. My mom stands about five feet four inches and has always been petite. Her side of the family are about that tall and also petite. My mom is also a blonde with blue eyes. I, on the other hand, am five feet seven inches tall, dark hair, hazel eyes, and built more like Mae West. My mom and I have similar facial features, but that’s where the similarities stop.

My mom remarried when I was five and ultimately had my sister, who is genetically a lot like her dad. I guess my mom’s petite genes just couldn’t get a break. So here I am, in this family with a mother who looks nothing like me, a father who is not biologically connected to me, and a sister who looks like him. We moved back to the town where my mom’s whole family lives when I was about twelve, so it really hammered the fact home that I was nothing like these people. I just never felt like I belonged there. And while they probably never did, I swear I always felt like they were looking at me like “who is she? where did she come from?”

Not only do I look different from everybody on my mom’s side of the family, I am also different in virtually every other way as well from anybody on either side of the family. God makes us unique and individually special, but I promise you, He really did a number on me. One of the unique things that God gave me is my voice. It is loud. And when I tell you it’s loud, I mean it is loud. God gave me a voice designed to be heard in the cheap seats. Now this has served me well in my singing and hopefully someday, if I ever make any money being an author and actually get to go out into the world to talk to people about the things that I’ve written, it will be a benefit. But growing up in a family of Lilliputians with soft voices, it was a curse. I cannot tell you how many times I heard, “I’m right here, Sam, you don’t have to yell.” To this day, my husband thinks I’m yelling at him even when I’m not.

I also have a completely different sense of humor from anyone else in my family. They are a fairly conservative, fairly straightforward people. I lean toward the outrageous and ridiculous. I love British humor and it just makes my mom get a look on her face like a confused cocker spaniel. When I was a kid my favorite shows were The Bob Newhart Show and Benny Hill. I have always believed that sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying, so I sometimes tend to say things, purely in an effort to lighten the mood, that other people think are shockingly inappropriate. ‘Gallows’ humor’, I think they call it.

One of my favorite books growing up was “The Emperor’s New Clothes”, which, I’m sure you’ll recall, was about an Emperor surrounded by people who would not tell him the truth. People kept blowing smoke up this Emperor’s skirt, so to speak, convincing him that he looked fabulous in his new clothes, even though he was buck-naked. Nobody wanted to be the one to break it to the Emperor that, not only was he naked, he had been rooked by this traveling “tailor”. This book made a pretty big impression on me, so I am the one in the family who will just say it. My whole family is very non-confrontational, but I have never been afraid to say that the Emperor had no clothes on.

Add to that the fact that nobody else in my family (that I knew of at the time) had a father that was an alcoholic or a step-father that was abusive, and you’ve got one seriously black sheep. I had had absolutely no say in either one of these choices in men, absolutely no say in how I was made or the fact that I was so different, and yet the message I kept feeling from everyone is “why can’t you just be more like us?” How could I? I wasn’t one of them, anymore than a giraffe can be an elk. A giraffe can run and eat and even live amongst the elk, but when the rubber hits the road, it’s still a giraffe.

This huge mess did not alter, however, the fact that I was a human being with all that love I just talked about that needed to be dealt with. I had this father-love deficit anyway, given my absentee alcoholic father and abusive step-father, and then the love that I had within me that was designed to be given to a father had nowhere to go. I grew up like some sort of maniacal machine, with the need to give and receive love at critical levels. Naturally, I just tried to give it to anyone who didn’t get away from me soon enough. I remember this dog food commercial where this big tough-looking bulldog was walking down the street at a steady pace, and this little tiny dog is bouncing all over the place around him, panting and trying to talk to the bulldog and get his attention. I always think of that when I think about myself and how I’ve tried to love people. “Want some love, Butch? (pant, pant, pant) Huh, do ya, do ya Butch? (pant, pant, pant) Do ya? I got some love right here, Butch, ya know? (pant, pant, pant) Got it right here.”

Not only did I try to give my love to anyone and everyone, I tried to find myself in those people also. Humans don’t just need love, we need validation. It is my fervent belief that we were supposed to find that validation in the love of our God. It was intended to be a perfect love relationship wherein we were always going to know who we were, what our purpose was, and how much we were loved and how much we meant to our heavenly father. Donald Miller talks about this subject exquisitely in his book, Searching For God Knows What. Because of the original sin, and because every generation since then gets a little farther away from that originally-perfect love relationship, our knowledge that we’re supposed to find ourselves, to find that validation, in God, is buried so deep within us that some of us never realize it. What we do realize is that we need it. The thing that remains after all this time is the original need to feel like we matter to someone, to something. We have a desperate need to feel valued and important.

Despite the original sin separating us from our heavenly father, I believe some of this validation and love was meant to be given to us by earthly fathers. In my case, though, and in the case of so many other children in this world, there was no father. There was no positive male role model at all. Every man who walked in front of me was a potential candidate, but I had no idea what that kind of love was supposed to be like, and since I had no idea what it was really supposed to look like, my choices didn’t seem so absurd at the time. Every man who showed me the slightest bit of kindness was immediately both a potential source and target. Like the little bird in P.D. Eastman’s book I went from man to man, trying to find not only the one to whom I belonged, but the one who could tell me who I was.

Not surprisingly, it didn’t happen. I kept trying to put huge, heavenly expectations on mere humans. You can imagine how well that worked out. Perhaps if I had been the only broken person on earth it might have worked out better, but of course we are all broken. So many of us wandering around, searching for the one who can tell us who we are and what we’re meant to be doing.

I wish I could report that life is like the movies and I found myself in one big sixty-second epiphany, but that’s not how it happened. After a lifetime of trying to be whatever it was that would make everybody else happy and want to love me, it took more than a minute to get to know myself. I went through a really bad time for a long time. I now see that even then, even in my lowest points, even when I was telling God how angry I was with Him and how much I didn’t want to talk with Him, He was still in control. Looking back on it, it reminds me of that scene in the Horse Whisperer where Robert Redford’s character Tom is working with the injured horse, Pilgrim. Not only has the horse been severely physically injured, he has been emotionally wounded as well. He is hurting and confused, feeling like he can no longer put his love and trust into those whom he has loved and served and trusted for his whole life. Tom has Pilgrim in the ring, working with him, and ultimately lassoes him. This is a climactic scene as Tom has been working with the horse for a while, earning his hesitant trust while working to restore him physically. Tom insists that no matter what happens, Grace (the little girl that was injured in the accident with the horse) must not interfere. He promises her that what he does won’t hurt the horse and that it’s necessary for Pilgrim to be able to get beyond what has happened.

Once he has the rope around the horse’s neck, he begins to pull on the rope, forcing the horse’s head down. He forces the horse onto its knees and ultimately onto its side. As the horse is lying down, Tom steps up onto the horse. It’s almost impossible to watch, not only for Grace, but for anyone watching the film. One thing that is obvious, though, is that Tom is never harsh or cruel with Pilgrim. Even as he brings Pilgrim down, it’s obvious that love is the prevailing emotion.

Tom explains to Grace that Pilgrim has lost his place in the world, that he no longer knows what is true and what is not. Essentially that everything Pilgrim ever believed in disappeared the day of the accident. He is telling Grace that Pilgrim no longer knows who he is and what he’s meant to be doing. The exercise of laying Pilgrim prone was designed to show him that not only is he not in control, he is not supposed to be, that he is not responsible for that, that it is not his fault that he is broken. Even as Tom brings Pilgrim down, he is whispering reassurances to him, asking for Pilgrim to let go, to trust him, showing Pilgrim that although he must yield control, the one to whom he yields will never hurt him and will always care for him.

I see now that God brought me through that very same experience. I was so broken, so unbelievably broken. I was so confused and I was hurting myself. God loves me and I am His child and He could no longer allow me to continue to hurt myself. Everything in my life came full-stop. He brought me gently down to my knees, and then laid me down until I stopped fighting, until I could finally listen, finally hear Him whispering to me that He loved me and would never let me go. It was so terrifying at the time, so heartbreaking, so confusing, but it was the most beautiful and powerful thing I have ever experienced.

Unlike the movies, that wasn’t the ending, but just the beginning. It was a beautiful beginning, though, and there has been such amazing freedom and peace in letting Him lead me. By journaling, I have gotten to know Him on such a deeply personal, intimate level, but equally important, I have gotten to know me. He tells me in those conversations who I am, He takes me gently by the hand and shows me myself, shows me things about myself I never knew, and I am delighted by all of them. He tells me not to worry, that I am doing a good job, that He is proud of me. He is honest with me. He does not set me up with false hope. One of the things He tells me over and over again is that “it will not be easy, but it will be done”. He calls me his Warrior Princess and He calls me His “Little One”. I’ve never been anybody’s “Little One” and when He says it, I feel how sincere it is, how much He means it.

I asked Him one time what His name was for me and He told me, “Mary Magdalene”. I was so blown away by this. She was so strong, so beautiful, so devoted. She had apparently been through much in her own life and Jesus had brought her out of it, just like He had brought me out of it. People thought she was a whore and I’m sure people have thought the same thing about me. Some people think that she was actually one of the disciples, that she may have been the one referred to as “the one whom He loved best”. Certainly they were very close. And this is how He sees me? Is that possible? Turns out it is.

An amazing thing happens when God and Jesus tell you who you are and show you things about yourself you never saw before. Eventually you find that you can believe it. You want to believe it. You want to make your heavenly father proud. You want to prove Him right. Eventually it sinks in that you no longer have to look to the world for your validation. It no longer matters what others think. Once you receive validation from the highest possible source, you begin to realize how much time is wasted in looking for it anywhere else.

I know the voice of my shepherd now. I recognize it. I see myself through His eyes, no longer enslaved by my own or anyone else’s vision of me. Like the little bird at the end of P.D. Eastman’s book, I have been found by the One who made me.

Little Details Move Giant Mountains

Lately I’ve been going through a season of what feels like struggle and frustration. I say “feels like” because I’ve come to realize over the past couple of weeks that in actuality, it has been a season wherein God has slowed me down for my own good, as well as the good of others. I’ve already talked about how God sometimes needs for us to stay close to Him, for whatever reason, and He limits our freedom and progress. He is our perfect heavenly father, so of course this is for the good of His children, us and others. I also believe that He sometimes needs for us to slow down, look more closely at the little details of what we’re doing, and rely on Him to show us what needs to be done differently.

As you know, I am a Mary Kay consultant. I am extremely happy and blessed to have this opportunity. Mary Kay is so much more than skin care and cosmetics. In fact, most consultants and directors know that the awesome skin care and cosmetics that we sell are almost secondary to what else is going on. Mary Kay Ash, the woman who founded Mary Kay, wanted first and foremost to give women a chance to change not only their own lives for the better, but to show those women how to be an agent of change for other women all over the world. Yes, we have fantastic products and that’s essential. It wouldn’t work if we couldn’t really believe in the products that we sell. I certainly wouldn’t be able to promote products that I didn’t believe were a great product at a great value. But that’s just where it starts.

There are many, many women all over the world whose lives have been changed for the
better because of the Mary Kay opportunity, whether or not they themselves decided to become consultants. It is my personal goal to see that there are many, many more. God has blessed me so richly, it is imperative that I pass on those blessings. My purpose on this earth is to “show and tell”. God has brought me through to the other side of suffering and hardships and life events that could easily have derailed me and sent me into a lifelong state of inertia. It’s my job to let other people know that what happens to us on this earth does not have to define who we are. We are so much more than the sum of our life events and it’s critical that I share this with as many people as I can. I know that God brought me to Mary Kay because it will put me in front of large numbers of women over the course of my career.

I’ve known for a long time now that someday I’d be either speaking or performing for large groups of people. I know this because God gave me an incredibly loud voice. It took a really long time to see that as a blessing. My whole life, people were always saying, “I’m right here, Sam, you don’t have to yell.” I was always getting in trouble in school because, even though all of my friends were talking right along with me, mine was the only voice the teacher heard. It finally occurred to me, though, that God wouldn’t have given me such a voice if I didn’t need it. He clearly intends for me to be heard all the way back in the “cheap seats” some day.

Through my journaling and quiet times with the Lord, He has also shared with me that He wants me to teach His children. That’s a big job. As I said, I believe He brought me into Mary Kay because He will use that to bring women into my path that He needs for me to “show and tell”. I am so ready for this. I’ve been champing at the bit to get started widening my circle of influence. I want to do as many skin care classes as I can and build my team as quickly as possible. Lately, though, it seemed like my progress had come grinding to a halt.

In my earlier blog I talked about realizing that God needed for me to stay close to Him. I believe that’s true. One reason was for my safety but another reason was because there were things He needed for me to see and learn before He could let me run on ahead. As I said, He is our perfect heavenly father and He loves us beyond anything we can comprehend with our human minds. Knowing that, would He trust His children’s development and well-being to just anyone? No. I am humbled and honored more than I can say that He would even let me get in front of one of His children, much less many. It is a big important job; definitely the biggest and most important job I will ever do. It is what I was put here on this earth to do. B-I-G.

What God has been showing me lately is that I have not been treating it like a big important job for which I was put here on earth to do. I have been phoning it in, going through the motions, schlepping along in it. I have been following the rules, following the instructions, following the procedures but I have not been treating it like it’s the work of the Lord. I have not been giving God the “first fruits” in this area. I haven’ t been doing a bad job, I just haven’t honored and respected what I’m doing nearly as much as I need to . I believe we should do everything as if we were doing it for the Lord. I hate to pump gas more than just about anything, but when I do it, I try to act like I’m pumping gas for the Lord. If we knew we were doing something specifically and directly for the Lord, wouldn’t we take more care? More time? I say I believe this, but I have not necessarily been acting like I believe it. The Bible tells us that faith without works is dead. Works without faith is also doomed.

This weekend, we had an awesome, incredible speaker, Allison Lamar, at a Mary Kay training class. She is the youngest woman to ever become a National Sales Director and she also did it in the shortest amount of time--just under three years. To clarify the significance of this in financial terms, she went from being a “broke snob” (her words) with $30,000 in credit card debt to being a millionaire in less than 3 years. Within that three years, she paid off that $30,000 in credit card debt in one year and in a year and a half, she was able to retire her husband so that he could pursue his dream job. (If you worked as hard as you could at your j-o-b for three years would you be able to pay off $30,000 in credit card debt, retire your husband and earn over a million dollars a year? Certainly makes you think, huh?)

She asked the question, “Do you care enough to be prepared?” What I heard God asking me through her was, “Do you care enough about me and the work I’ve given you to really step it up and become the expert I need you to be? Do you care enough about me and the work I’ve given you to be the best and most prepared that you can be?” It brought tears to my eyes because I knew that, although I love the Lord with all my heart and I care very deeply about the work He’s given me to do, I had not stepped it up. I was not an expert and I was definitely not as prepared as I needed to be. I had not done the ‘works’.

Not only had I not done the works, I’m not completely sure I had the faith. This is a tough one for me because it’s really not about not having faith, it’s about the depth of that faith. In some ways, faith is a skill; something that’s learned and honed over time. There are different levels or depths of faith. Simply believing in the Lord and that He is our savior is absolutely enough to get started. But that just puts you at the starting gate. Moving forward takes more faith, a deeper faith. And teaching God’s children, well that requires complete, total, absolute faith; faith as deep as the ocean. After all, these are His most precious possessions.

For those of you with children, think about those children. Would you drop them off with just anybody? Would you entrust their educational development to just anybody? No. What we’re talking about here goes way beyond reading and writing. We’re talking about souls. We’re talking about people who could very well be teetering on the brink between a new life with an amazing, intimate relationship with Christ and a life where they never know the joy and love that God has for them; where they continue to let themselves be defined by their life events. Like I said before, B-I-G with a capital “big”. This really is spiritual “rocket science”! If I’m not at my best, if I’m not bringing my A-game every single time, who’s going to slip through the cracks? I do NOT want that on my conscience and I do NOT want to stand before my Lord at the end of my life and have to explain why I couldn’t muster it up enough to do His work to the best of my ability.

Allison Lamar also talked about moving mountains. She mentioned that if we’re not moving the mountain, then we’ll get stuck trying to figure out how to just deal with it. Climb it, go around it, grin and bear it, etc. It’s no surprise to me that when I got home from the conference, I saw a book my friend Lynetta Dent had given me several months ago entitled “Your Days Are Written” by Pastor Danny Diaz. I flipped it open and of course the first thing I saw was about moving mountains. (God comes to us where we are and in my case, He knows He usually has to give me the billboard. Subtlety is wasted on me.) Pastor Diaz cites Mark 11:23, “ I tell you the truth, you can say to this mountain, ‘May you be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ and it will happen. But you must really believe it will happen and have no doubt in your heart.”

Believe it will happen and have no doubt in your heart. Notice that it’s a two-parter. A) Believe; and B)have no doubt. It sounds like one and the same thing, but this is Jesus we’re talking about. If He’d meant it to be the same thing, would He have gone to the trouble of saying it two different ways? Isn’t it possible to believe something will happen but still have doubt? I believe that I will be wealthy some day. (Would God have given me such expensive taste if He meant for me to just plod along, barely making ends meet, missing out on tons of fabulous shoes, for my whole life??) But it’s still very easy for me to have doubt in my heart about it, just given the fact that I’m 38 and still no sign of wealth.

Here’s the thing, though. I believe it will happen because I believe God can make it happen. I have doubt in my heart because I’m not sure I’m doing everything I need to be doing to cause God to bless me with that. I have absolutely no doubt that God wants to bless me beyond my wildest dreams. Like I tell my kids all the time, freedom and benefits are the result of hard work and excellent behavior, and they come with responsibility. Can God trust me with all that wealth? Am I going to be a good steward of what He wants to give me? My current financial situation shows that He can trust me more now than He could five years ago, but that I still need work. And that’s just money. If I want Him to trust me with people’s spiritual lives, I better really be performing at a level of excellence. If I lose the money He gives me, it’s only me and possibly my family that suffers. If I lose His children before they get a chance to get to know Him, well that’s a big deal. Again, B-I-G.

As a side note, I should mention that, while Mary Kay is definitely about the business of changing women’s lives for the better, not everybody that decides to sell Mary Kay is called to do what I believe I am called to do. Everybody has their own unique, special, important purpose and “mission field”. This one just happens to be mine. If you need help figuring out what your purpose is, I would encourage you to read Rick Warren’s book, “A Purpose Driven Life”.

Thank you, Allison Lamar, for asking me some really tough questions. Thank you, God, for using Allison to hold the mirror up to my face. It wasn’t fun to figure out that I’ve been just sort of floating along and that I’ve had unresolved doubt in my heart, but it was necessary. I pray that I would always honor and respect this work you have given me to do. Please forgive me for being so casual about something so important. I am ready to move the mountain into the sea and out of my way!!

Seven Months

It occurs to me that tomorrow will be the 7 month anniversary of the day I quit drinking. As I ponder this, a number of emotions and thoughts bubble up to the surface.

I guess first is a feeling of pleasure. I don’t want to say “pride” because although I’m proud of not drinking for 7 months, I know that it wasn’t just my own accomplishment. What I did was decide, first that I needed help, and second, to let God help me. Every day since February 10 has included a decision to let God continue to help me. I have to decide all over again every single day, and frequently multiple times a day, to turn to Him rather than to alcohol for help coping. I have to decide all over again to stop, assess the situation, breathe deeply, then release the fear/anger/stress/sadness/etc to God. It is up to me to make that decision, but it is God’s grace and mercy and unbelievable, unconditional love that takes me through to the other side.

There is also some incredulity that I’ve actually made it this far. I remember, all too vividly, sitting neck deep in my bathtub, crying, hearing that voice on my heart asking, “How bad are you going to let it get? How far down are you going to have to go?” I remember how impossibly hard it was to even think the “A” word. Even there, in my tub in my bathroom with the door locked, knowing with absolute certainty that I needed to say it and even wanting to say it, the word would not come. Because there is no going back after it is spoken. Once it has been uttered, admitted, it is not a word that can be taken back. Like “cancer”. Once you take it on, acknowledge its presence, it’s always a part of you. I could easily take it on in that moment, for that moment, but I understood that, one day at a time or not, it’s a lifetime commitment. Thanks be to God that it’s not a commitment I have to fulfill on my own.

I finally did it, though. Lying back in that tub, I took the hugest breath and an even bigger leap of faith and whispered the words “I am an alcoholic” and then, “I need help”. Seven tiny little words but man, I’m pretty sure they’re the biggest ones I’ve ever said.

Another emotion I feel is anger. Anger at what I sometimes see as my lack of control. I love wine. I love the taste, the smell, the way all of the complex flavors within it combine to form this rich, wonderful product. There is a lot of love that goes into the making of wine and you really get a feel for that when you drink it. Not anymore, though. Not me. I can’t control myself and stop at just one or two glasses, so now I can’t have any at all. Can’t have any bourbon either and boy howdy, did I love me some bourbon!! On an intellectual level I understand that this is a disease, at least in part inherited from my father. It just sometimes makes me angry that every party that I ever go to from now on will be the same scenario. Everybody else drinking, whether a little or a lot, and me sitting there enjoying my Sprite and cranberry juice, wishing I could just go home.

I’m sure this is similar to how diabetics feel at dinner parties, or anybody else with a chronic disease that sets them apart. I have a friend with multiple-sclerosis, who I’m sure wishes she could do half the things she used to be able to do. I’m angry because there is still a part of me that does not believe it wasn’t my fault. Nobody can blame you for getting MS or diabetes or cancer. I nod my head when I hear that alcoholism is a disease just like any other disease but I think on some level I still don’t really believe it. And, even if it’s true, I’m still pissed that it happened to me.

Mostly, though, I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I am in recovery. As a cancer patient goes into remission, I am no less relieved and grateful. I have been given another chance to live. God gave me the gift of life, not once but twice. And not just because I’m special, but because I asked. It’s just that simple. I asked. God gives us His grace and eternal life with Him in heaven when we ask for it, and He just as quickly and willingly gives us His grace and mercy for our battles here on earth. We have only to ask.

Having been given this second chance at life, I also feel an incredible sense of urgency. What am I going to do with the rest of this life that He has given me? It must matter. It must count. It must be more than just minutes, hours, days and weeks strung together with no design. I have been given so much, it must be given back. Step 12 involves helping others; taking what we’ve learned and sharing it so others can have the same chance at life.

My heavenly father has called me His Warrior Princess. We have been on the battlefield many times together. Each time I come away stronger and better and more honed than the last time. I am not always strong or happy to be on the battlefield. Many times I have cried out “Enough! It’s enough! You said you wouldn’t give me more than I could handle and I am there now!” Every time, though, He is there, shielding me, supporting me, holding me up, holding me in his arms, nursing my wounds, guiding my path. Because I ask.

Regardless of what holds us in captivity, whether it’s abuse, alcoholism, wounds from childhood that won’t seem to heal, our heavenly father can and will take us through to the other side if we ask Him to. I will have to decide to ask Him again tomorrow, and probably later on today as well. But I know with absolute certainty that He will be there when I do. He is waiting to be there for all of us if we will only ask. He is eagerly waiting to come into our lives and release us from our bondage and give us all second chances at life.

Please ask Him. I promise you won’t regret it.

The Intimacy of Breathing

I subscribe to a newsletter (I think it’s monthly) from Deepak Chopra’s website. I love Deepak Chopra’s insight into things. There are just some people on this earth whom God has gifted with a way of thinking and speaking that, whenever I read or hear them, cause me to think about God, and my relationship with Him, in new, different, and exciting ways. Donald Miller and Joel Osteen are two more of those people. I think the common denominator, for me, is that they all tend to focus more on an intimate, personal relationship with God than on “religion” for the sake of religion. We are Christians by Grace alone, not by works.

Having said that, though, what I find is that when I focus on the relationship first, it comes far more naturally to want to be obedient to God’s holy word. When I am close to God, hearing His voice on my heart, releasing my own will and allowing Him to lead me, I am so completely loved, comfortable and safe that I am eager to please Him. I want to be the best me that I can be. I want to delight Him and I want to bask in that delight.
I think this is true in any intimate, love relationship. When my relationships are in a good place, when I feel loved, comfortable and safe, I automatically want to do everything I can to make the one I’m in the relationship with happy. I want to surprise them with things I know they love, cook things they love to eat; no detail is too great or small if it means I can bring delight and joy to them.

In the most recent “Namaste” newsletter from The Chopra Center , Deepak Chopra wrote a letter. In that letter he discussed the act of breathing. Although breathing is the most vital thing we do, and we do it every moment of every day, it is probably the thing we think about the least. It just struck me how strange that is. If jogging were vital to our existence, and we did it (and had to do it) 24/7, wouldn’t it be upper-most in our minds?
One of the things Deepak said in his letter that really caused me to pause and think was that breathing is a deeply intimate act of love. He gave his own reasons, which I will go into in a minute, but first I want to follow my own train of thought on that.

It occurs to me that this is yet another example of God’s amazing love for us. God gave us life. He breathed life into us. He created us so that all of the vital, absolutely necessary functions of our bodies and minds are able to be performed without our ever having to think about them or make a conscious decisions to do them. They just happen. Giving someone a gift that they absolutely need and making it so that they never have to think about it is, in my opinion, an act of the deepest, most selfless love. When have I ever given a gift to anyone that I didn’t want something in return, even if it’s just a “thank you”? When have I ever given a gift to anyone that I didn’t want them to think about me as they used it? There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be thanked or thought of, but how amazingly selfless is it that God gave us this gift completely “free”. No strings attached whatsoever.

In yoga and meditation, we are taught to “be aware” of our breath. We are taught that increasing our awareness of our breath can bring calm during stressful situations and bring insight into confusion. The body and its actions follow the breath. If the breath is ragged and disjointed, the body’s actions and movements will be as well. Deepak, in his letter, painted a picture of breathing as a love act, in and of itself. I’m paraphrasing, but he suggested that we visualize breathing in as accepting the gift of life, and as such, love, from our creator. As we breathe in, we breathe our Creator and His love into our deepest selves. As our breath fills our every cell in our body, so does our Creator. As we breathe out, we surrender that life back unto our Creator in an act of trust and love. The tiny little moment in between breathing in and breathing out is a moment when we are joined with the one we love and who loves us in the perfect center of this holy act of love. What an incredibly beautiful thought.

During my quiet time, my meditation, I have been practicing “watching” my breathing, for the purpose of bringing calm into my mind and centering my physiological functions as well. Now, however, as I breathe in, I have begun to think the thought “Father, I gratefully accept your gift of life” and, as I breathe out, “Father I surrender my life back unto you.” I find that when I become intentional about receiving and giving back this most precious gift, I am filled with a calm, tranquility and sense of well-being I had never before experienced.

One of the simplest verses in the Bible, and yet the one I struggle with the most is, “Be still and know that I am God.” When I focus my awareness and intention on the intimacy of breathing, I connect with my heavenly father in a way helps me do just that. There is no doubt, no worry, no stress. There is only knowing with absolute certainty that I am loved.