Pathway to Happiness - Getting out the Broom

The list I made of people that hurt me, the one that also listed what part I played in my own demise, called to me.

There was unfinished business. I'd asked God to remove the defects of character that led me to treat people the way I had, to react the way I did. But those people were still out there. With some people, I was already prepared to ask forgiveness for my behavior and attitudes. And in some cases, it was much harder. For these people, it was more difficult because I had to get past the "but they hurt me first" hurdle. I had to become willing - and this was not in my own strength but as a direct result of my prayer for God to remove my character defects - to not only ask forgiveness of these people but begin to treat them differently: with respect rather than with contempt. That was a tall order in some cases. I had to let go and trust that God would bring me to that place. I've never been a big fan of "fake it til you make it" theology. This had to be real or it wasn't going to happen.

My journal helped me keep track of all of this as it unfolded. Slowly, the list of people to whom I knew I had to make amends, started to have little check marks beside them. As I went on I knew - for the most part - who I could approach and who I couldn't. Not primarily because I was scared, (okay, well, the whole thing scared me - I've always hated confrontation even if it's not about me!) but also because of their own fragility and poor self-image. With these people, it was enough just to begin to see them differently, to treat them with more respect and kindness. However, the times I refrained from apology were few and far between; usually God would (I was going to say hound) keep gently reminding me of this person or that person on the list.

My kids were on the list too. I remember what happened as I sincerely apologized to my oldest (who was near the top of the list). She took the brunt of a lot of my "stuff" in her growing-up years. Now she was 20 years old. She listened carefully to me. And she forgave me - no holds barred. We talked for a long time after that, heart to heart ... Finally she said with tears in her eyes, "Wow, Mom. That really means a LOT. I'm so glad you came to me and we could talk like this - it all makes sense now!"

As I took that step of going to people individually and apologizing for specific things and general attitudes, there was a feeling of vulnerability in me; it became so strong that I could almost touch it. But as people I loved forgave me freely, one after another, there was a growing sense of freedom as well, and - yes, I'll say it - happiness. There was an inner lightness, a delight to which I was not accustomed.

I was curious about the feeling of vulnerability, until I realized something - again from the story of Lazarus. Once the wrappings started to come off, guess what was underneath? He was naked under there! So here he is, still stinking of the slime from the mummy-wrappings (I'll leave that to your imagination; if you've ever watched a crime scene investigation show on TV then you'll know what I'm thinking). He's standing there totally naked, in front of friends and family. Someone else has to give him their cloak probably - (and believe me, they won't want it back!!) to cover his nakedness. He'll have to spend 7 days purifying himself of the filth because that is what a practicing Jew did if he even touched a dead body. He WAS a dead body.

So I learned to live with that feeling; it was a sensation of being exposed for what in many cases was the first time. It meant the wrappings were loosening and coming off.

That feeling of happiness was worth my new-found transparency - and discomfort.

Whenever I'm tempted to hold onto or grab back some of those resentments and dance with them - and I am tempted because I lived like that for so long that it's familiar, even comfortable, I inevitably feel the maggots start to gnaw at me again. So to avoid that return to the limiting, one-sided, narrow-minded and dogmatic prison I was in, I TRY to remember the smell of death. I TRY to remember the wrappings. The bondage. The pain I put people through. And I TRY to remember the new depths of relationship to which God has brought me and the promise of even deeper intimacy with Him.

Do I really want to sacrifice that freedom ... to go back to the tomb ?

God wasn't finished, however. There was even more.

Pathway to Happiness - Taking Responsibility

In my last post I talked about the list I made of all the people who had hurt me in my life, how the wounds they inflicted made me feel, what they made me believe about myself and how that made me act toward others.

As I learned to forgive others in the process I described in my last post, there was something else that started to stir in my consciousness.

Not in every case, to be sure, but in a lot of cases I contributed to the strife and bitterness that existed between myself and the people who hurt me. I either played a part in that injury, reacted badly to it and ended up hurting them back, or out of my pain and powerlessness, I hurt others (sometimes many years later) who reminded me of them.

It was time to take responsibility for my part in my own demise. Because I had written these things down on my list, I started to see an emerging pattern, a theme of behavior and attitude that was not healthy, that kept me in a place of powerlessness and victimization, and in reactionary over-boldness and fear-based aggression. These were things that could only be called character flaws - like arrogance, self-pity, paranoia, rage, and selfishness. The more I saw them emerge, the more sickened I was by them, by how tied up in knots I was because of these defects in my psychological map. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't rid myself of them; this I learned very quickly. From previous experience, I absolutely knew that I had no power to deliver myself from these things. I needed help - serious help. And who better to help me than the One who made me??

I'd even gone to Him before with this whole bag of tricks I had built up - unsuccessfully because the next day (or hour) it would all come rushing back. I'd go to Him and tearfully confess to Him my failings. But there were no specifics. It was "all the times I failed You," and "all my sins."

That wasn't going to cut it. No, I had to be specific. I had to tell Him WHAT I had done, WHO I did it to, WHEN and WHERE it happened, WHY I did it and HOW it was ripping me to shreds inside.

I had to take responsibility for my own actions - before God. I had to admit to Him (and to myself, and to someone else - another human being whom I trusted completely) that there were things - ugly things - about me that I was so very ready for Him to take away from me. There was no holding back, no reservation about this readiness. It was high time. I was sick enough of the way I was, and I became entirely prepared, utterly desperate for God to step in and change me.

And then, bereft of my own resources, without demanding, arm-twisting, pleading or cajoling, I simply asked Him to remove my shortcomings. In detail - each character flaw, each unhealthy attitude.

So, knowing that this was way bigger than me, and that I was praying for the very thing that God so wanted to do in me, I just watched and waited for Him to work.

And miracle of miracles, slowly but surely . . . He did.

. . . more to follow . . .

Pathway to Happiness - Forgiveness

[image removed because of possible copyright infringement] 

I had originally picked a beautiful photo for this post. (edited December 2012)
 
The photograph I originally chose was of an artesian spring continually bubbling up from the ground, so much that it had formed a freshwater pond. The water from the spring was pure enough to drink.

I've said before that the pathway to happiness, the pathway to a lifestyle of living in today, is not by burying the past, nor by wallowing in it, but by exposing it.

I'm not talking about exposing to the general public the horrid details of who did what to whom, deciding whose fault it was, or seeking justice for all the wrongs experienced at the hands or lips of others. I'm talking about dealing with the feelings and beliefs about ourselves that past experiences have produced in our lives, and being free of them.

Hiding those feelings is what got me into trouble in the first place. I know that the self-protecting behaviors, the beliefs I developed about myself all those years ago kept me in slavery to awful, soul-shrinking words like "should", "must", and "bad".

One of the steps in my healing process was that on a list that only I would ever see, I listed all of the people in my life who had ever hurt me, what they did, how it made me feel and what behaviors it produced in me as a result. It was a long list; some people took up more room than others. And the list took a few weeks to complete. The reason I had to make this list was that it wasn't enough to bring to God the issues I had with these people and come to a "blanket" forgiveness for all of them. No, this had to be specific, because in each of these experiences, I had allowed my hurt to develop into resentment, and bitterness had taken root. I held onto these hurts; they shaped me and turned me into who I thought I was.

I had been accused of having a "victim mentality." I fully admitted that I had such a mentality. I thought it was fine to have one, if you were really a victim. I believed that the abuse I suffered at the hands of family members and others made me a card-carrying "Victim Club" member!

But slowly I began to see that the roots of the behaviors I hated in me were from the attitudes and beliefs I developed as a response to those things I suffered - and that the only way to be rid of them was to deal with the abuse itself. In specifics.

I won't lie to you. It was a painful process to bring up to the surface buried memories of things I would have just as soon forgotten. In my case, I had to remember in detail - and allow myself to experience all the emotion that I should have expressed at the time but couldn't because of my situation. My counselor explained to me the reason why I couldn't express those things at the time; I already knew that it was because I was a child and didn't have the emotional maturity to handle these things - things that shouldn't happen to anyone.

But God used my counselor to put His finger on the reason why I developed the behaviors I did, in terms I could understand for the first time in my life. My counselor used the analogy of a soldier in a modern war zone - you're in constant danger of attack, never knowing who is a friend and who is a foe, always having to be on guard, witnessing horrible things happen to others and being glad it's not you, yet feeling guilty for making it out of there when others didn't, not allowed to react to the atrocities that would make most people weep, expected to work for the same people who made you go there and see that, resenting the very people (in the soldier's case, the army) who are such a part of your identity ... it made perfect sense to me. Then when you come home from the war zone, that mind-set is still there: "Gotta protect myself. The world is not a safe place. They're being nice now, but they will betray me eventually. How can they even spend time with me? if they knew who I was, what I've done to survive - they'd never give me the time of day."

So part of my recovery was going back into every one of those experiences and allowing myself to feel all the anger, all the hurt, all the rage and sadness that were appropriate to feel for what I went through. The path to forgiveness is sometimes talked about as sweetness and light, daisies and butterflies. Not when the hurt goes deep, driven down inside by years and years of abuse. The first admission to make in the process of forgiveness is the admission of having been wronged, and that it was that person's fault, not the fault of the (I'll use the word) victim. No excuses made for the person who did it; making excuses is a counterfeit for forgiveness - not the real thing at all. What he/she did was wrong and it hurt me. It hurt me in ways that until now, I have not been able to express, and it made me believe this thing about myself and do that thing to other people because of it.

Until I realize the wrongness of what was done to me, it really can't be called forgiveness when I eventually get there. It is normal and healthy to BE angry, to BE sad, to BE hurt by those things. It doesn't mean I'm a bad person; it means I'm human. I learn to reject the message I got from that person's treatment of me. I speak words of comfort to that hurting, frightened and suspicious inner child (see my recent post "Beautiful" for more information about that). I realize (for real, not just pay lip service to it) that even if the person wanted to give back to me what he or she took from me by treating me that way, they couldn't. The moment they took it from me, it flew from their hands and disappeared. And finally, after all that, I make a decision to NOT make (or expect) that person pay me back for the offense. That means they never have to make the first move and say they're sorry. I literally let that person off the hook. I write off their debt to me.

This process can take months. It did for me. I can only tell you that it is worth it. As I dealt with those experiences, releasing every experience, every person into the hands of God who saw it all anyway, I was finally able to fully forgive the people on my list (which I kept, by the way - as a tool for later on and as a reminder of how far God has brought me). It doesn't mean that I was able to re-establish relationships with all of these people; some of them continued to spill poison out of themselves onto me, and I realized it wasn't healthy for me to re-enter that atmosphere. But the resentment and the bitterness ... was gone.

As new things happen or old things creep back in, I go through that same process. It's not easy, and it doesn't get easier with time and repetition. But having experienced the benefits, I am more willing to go there and do what needs to be done in order to be free.

Freedom. I like the feeling.

. . . . to be continued...

Pathway to Happiness

I was sharing with someone today about the last couple of years and how my life has changed radically in that time frame.

I remember saying something like, "My kids, and others who know me really well, would tell you. My kids are still saying every so often, 'What's with Mom? how come she's not freaking out?' The biggest thing about this is that I've learned to step back and let people be who they are. That is so freeing!"

It sounds so weird when I say it like that. "Let people be who they are." But for many years I couldn't do this one seemingly simple thing. I couldn't stop trying to change people, especially (but not exclusively) people I loved. I felt threatened by anything they did, anything they thought or believed, anything they said, that was not what I would do, say, think, or believe. I couldn't carry on a civil conversation with someone whose views I didn't agree with. I was all about making them be who I was.

Which is kind of sad, really. Who I was at the time wasn't anyone even I liked. Why did I ever want more people like me running around manipulating, guilting, feeling responsible for, and trying to control everyone's "bad" behavior?? Yikes!!

Once I got into a healing process, one of the first things I had to learn to do was let go. Let go of my need to be involved in the little details and nuances of people's lives, heartaches, interpersonal and/or private troubles. And I would indiscreetly share my own troubles with others who might use that information as a weapon against me. I was constantly, as one of my friends puts it, getting up other people's noses. I had to learn what was my responsibility and what wasn't.

One of the things I learned was that it was okay for people to have their own opinions - even if they weren't the same as mine. (After all, my opinions were the only right ones!) This was based on a false assumption, one whose antidote I learned much later : just because they had a differing opinion than mine didn't mean they weren't out to change my opinion - at least not the way I wanted to change theirs. I'd turn any opinion I had into some sort of doctrine, never to be questioned. I didn't like a TV show - okay, I found a way to Christianize my reason. My REAL reason was - I didn't like it. Because I didn't like it, I didn't want anyone else to watch it.

For another BIG example, anyone who didn't believe in God, who belonged to a different religious organization, or who even had doubts ... well!! That person threatened my world. I became indignant and when I did, it turned them off (of course) and then they'd clam up and perhaps never bring anything like that up to me again. There went a lost opportunity to open a dialogue and listen to someone else's heart for a change. But I never saw it like that. My logic was that my faith was such an integral part of me that when they disrespected the object of my faith, they were disrespecting me. How blind I was.

This type of thing caused more hurt feelings, fights, and scream-fests than any other in my home, between me and my daughters. I nit-picked about the TV shows they watched because they were "of the devil." I forbade them to watch certain types of movies or listen to certain types of music for the same reason. "Oh, this movie is so New Age." Or, "You see how they portray the father in that show? like he's a flaming idiot - way to foster disrespect for the head of the home - no wonder kids don't respect authority and mouth off at their parents ..." Or, "You know how demonic those lyrics are..."

I was pretty much "anti-everything." The result was that my kids tuned me out, shut me out, and nearly turned away from God - because of me. One of them coined the term, "Christianazi" - because of me. And they held resentments against me for years because of these things that made them feel like freaks when they were talking with their friends -- and couldn't participate in conversations about this episode of this or that movie they weren't allowed to watch. If they had a personal problem, they refused to come to me, knowing they'd get either judgment for feeling the way they did, or I'd get all "Judy to the rescue" on them, or I'd get indignant against one of their friends, and want to make a big issue of it...when all they needed was a listening ear.

But then I got so desperate for help that I was willing to do ANYTHING to stop being so incredibly angry, fearful, and sad all the time. And God made it possible for me to find exactly the type of counselor I needed, one who had been where I was and who also was a Christian, to show me the way out.

So when I got into recovery from my insatiable obsession with controlling everyone's every move and rescuing them from the consequences of their own actions, something changed fundamentally in me. There was a paradigm shift, as the psychologists say. A new way of looking at the world. I was introduced to the idea that I was powerless over other people, and that in tryng to control them, I'd lost myself - and not in a good way. I was lonely, scared, and so very unhappy.

Now... I'm not. There was indeed a way out. I discovered the roots of my unutterably abysmal behavior in my childhood - and it was a slow, difficult process to rid myself of those scars and learn to look after myself instead of focusing on everyone else around me. And I needed help to do it - help which God gladly provided by an amazing set of circumstances. It wasn't easy to work through those things and learn the path of acceptance and forgiveness, to find out who I was and what God was really like, how much He really loved me. But as I did, I literally could feel the tightly-woven mummy wrappings loosen from me. I could move a little more freely. My relationships started changing: first with myself, then with God (I'm being honest here...) and lastly with the people in my life. They all kind of changed together, but the first in the healing stream was me, then me and God, then me and others.

And one day a few months ago, I looked around me and the emotional and spiritual landscape had changed from what had been a laborious, rocky vale of tears and strife - to a peaceful mountainside pass beside an artesian well, accompanied with the songs of birds and a cool summer breeze.

I was happy. Not just once in a while and for short periods, but most of the time. This was a new experience for me ... and I liked it.

I still do.

Special days - special people

We had a birthday in the house today. Somebody turned 21. She was the star of the day. Everything revolved around her!! And we loved doing that for her!!

Birthdays are special times when we can lavish attention on the people we love and nobody criticizes us for spoiling them. We get outside ourselves, outside our little lives, pursuits, and schedules, and let something be about someone else for a change.

I wonder though. Why do we have to wait until someone's birthday or anniversary to tell someone how much they mean to us? How many of us have wished - after someone we love has moved away (in this world or out of it) - that we had told or showed that person how much he or she meant to us? How many hours, weeks, years have we wasted being so busy making a living that we forgot to make a life with the people we love? How many older people do we know who are alone and lonely because their family members only got criticism and never knew they were loved, so they never even phone home?

Who are the people in our lives who made us feel special? wanted? loved? accepted? I have known people like that in my life; most of them were people who never knew how much their attention, their openness meant to me when I was growing up. Special memories, made all the more special because they were so rare. Some of them I was able to approach and tell what their influence meant to me...and I am so glad that I did. It wasn't hard. A personal note in a greeting card. A thank you note. An email (a real one - not a forward!!) A text. And lately - just writing a message to someone or putting something on their wall on Facebook.

It's a whole new perspective on things. I remember what it's like to try and do something for someone and have him or her cut it all to pieces before I hear the words (if ever, that is), "Thank you." I decided that just for today, and for all the todays I can, I can try to look for the yes, the positive, the uplifting, the encouraging word. Not just for what others do, not just for what God does (although it starts there) but also for what I do. I am way too hard on myself, and I think that I am hard on others because of it. So - why not I give us both a break?

I'm learning that it doesn't take much effort to build someone up rather than tear him or her down. To see the positive first, rather than the negative.

It just takes a little re-training of my mind, a little bit of faith in myself and in others ... and a whole lot of gratitude to God.

No tears in Heaven - right?

Well, not exactly.

The Bible says, "God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." So there must be tears ... in Heaven.

Why? What would there be to cry about in a perfect place where there is no more sickness, no more death?

Between the Rapture of the church and the physical return of Jesus to Earth, there's this little-preached-about thing called the Bema Seat - or the Judgment Seat of Christ. It's when we Christians will find out the true value of everything we have done (and not done) as Christians. We may even be surprised at who we see there!! (if we even notice the presence of anyone else at all...)

1 Corinthians 3:11-15 talks about this time of reckoning. It is NOT a time when we will find out who goes to Heaven and who goes to hell. This is "for Christians only."

I believe it will be a time when many of us - I daresay most of us - will be very surprised at what awaits us. Those of us who think we have done well in this life may find that our reward was all down here in the praise of men or even in the satisfaction of doing good deeds ("it feels good to be good"), and therefore, little or no reward may await us. Those of us who don't think our lives have amounted to much on Earth may discover that our little dark corner where we have slogged away in obscurity, illuminates with far more lavish reward than we ever dreamed imaginable. The secret, the determining factor, is in the fire of God: the purifying, motive-revealing fire. Please understand that it is not PEOPLE who will pass through the fire, but WORKS. Our sins, past, present, and future, have already been placed under the Blood. There will be no "confession", no "repentance", no "redemption" needed. He will show us what really was, and what could have been. There will be nothing left for us but to accept His perfect plan for us, His decision on what rewards await us for the rest of eternity. Read with me the words of Paul, inspired by the Spirit of God:
¹¹For no man can lay a foundation other than the one which is laid, which is Jesus Christ.
¹²Now if any man builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw,
¹³each man's work will become evident; for the day will show it because it is to be revealed with fire, and the fire itself will test the quality of each man's work.
¹⁴If any man's work which he has built on it remains, he will receive a reward.
¹⁵If any man's work is burned up, he will suffer loss; but he himself will be saved, yet so as through fire.
(NASV)

What a day that will be! There are probably going to be lots of us who weep in remorse because of lost opportunities to reach out, wasted efforts in religious pursuits, and impure, selfish motives in what we may have considered "our ministry." There will be no escaping the truth, no rationalizing our behavior. "All things are open and laid bare to the eyes of Him with whom we have to do." (Heb 4:13)

Before we succumb to the temptation to say to ourselves, "Well then,... we'd better get busy!" that is not what this is about. This is about - as it always is with God - relationship. It's about being so busy doing the work of the Lord that we forget the Lord of the work. It's about Jesus waiting by the hearth of our lives, waiting to meet with us and spend time with us by the fireplace, enter our innermost dark corners and illuminate and warm them with Himself, free us from the chains of our pasts and cause us to realize how deeply He loves us. Once we realize this, our natural spiritual response will be to love Him back! That love will naturally spill over into our daily lives and touch the people with whom we come in contact - just like a beam of light pierces through the darkness. We will make a difference - for Him. Through Him. Because of Him.

Not for reward. Not for crowns or jewels ... or anything else except the constant awareness of His presence inside of us, transforming us, loving and working through us.

He is desperate for us to let Him know us, to let Him into our innermost places and accept His love and His grace to live every day in His anointing. Not "for the rest of my life." Just every day, while it is still called Today.

So the question that tells me if I am living progressively in that lifestyle is: am I looking forward to the Bema - the Judgment Seat of Christ - or not?

Between Two Thieves

It has been said that Jesus, the Eternal Now, was crucified between two thieves: "What might have been," and "What might yet be."

In other words, yesterday and tomorrow. These are the two greatest thieves known to mankind.

Living in yesterday - if yesterday was good - makes us critical and judgmental of what's happening today that's different. We waste our time lamenting that things are not like "the good old days." If yesterday was awful, living in it can keep us trapped there, bound up in resentments, bitterness, fear, and anger. It robs us of any happiness that might be happening in today because the past clouds and colors our perceptions through a dark and repressive filter.

Living in tomorrow - if we think tomorrow will be better than today - robs us of the simple pleasures that happen in the moment. All we look for is "pie in the sky bye and bye" and our feet are not firmly planted in reality - we are way too "cosmic" to be of any real use to ourselves or to others. If we think tomorrow will be horrible, and we worry about how we'll ever manage, it too robs us of the strength we have been given to handle today's problems, because we spend all of our allotted strength on worrying about what might happen in the future.

Living in today, in gratitude and expectation, is a very powerful thing. First of all, it is where God lives. He said that He is the great "I am." Not "I was." Not "I will be in the future." Right now. Everything we need - He is. Second, because God is in the present, He is present to help whenever we need Him. Third, it's so very liberating to live in today, free from the chains of the past, free from the burden of the future. How many Christians I know today who simply can't enjoy the moment just because they're all wrapped up in the urgency of how close the Tribulation Period is, how evil the world is going to become - or what they "Should" be doing in the meantime (see my series on Shoulds and Oughtas from earlier this month - by the way, last time I looked it was GOD who convicted people of sin, drew people into the kingdom, gave the increase - it's all through the Bible ...) that they can't even relax. How sad.

I believe the past has a purpose - to instruct us in what to do - or not to do. I don't believe that we have to shut the door on the past, even if it was horrible. Until we deal with the past, there is no moving forward and those behaviors and attitudes we got from our pasts will continue to plague us in the present. There is help to deal with the past in a very simple program called the Twelve Steps. Whether it's an addiction to a mood-altering substance (legal or otherwise) that has gripped us, or whether it is a compulsion to do something else - mine was fixing, manipulating, and controlling other people - the Twelve Steps is a very useful pathway to learning from and being free from the chains of the past.

So then we can live in the now.

I also believe that the future has its place and we can live in joyous anticipation of it without robbing ourselves of the moment-by-moment enjoyment of the presence of God in our lives. The Bible says that God has sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts and He calls out, "Abba Father!" Quite literally that means, "Wow, Daddy this is fun being with You - what's next!" That's not obsessing about the future. That's enjoying the present with the assurance of a hope and a future. That's different.

That's living in the now.

He who is the Eternal Now still calls out to each of our hearts - to tryst with us.
Not in the past. Not in the future.
Today.

It's a matter of love

All right, I admit it. I'm steamed.

Yet again I've had to leave a church service of a church that claims to be "scent free."

It's not like people haven't been told before. Again and again the announcement, "Please refrain from using scented products; there are people in this assembly who are sensitive and we want everyone to enjoy the service." Yet week after flippin' week they come to the church wearing their precious fragrances. One person even told me to my face (as she was reeking of body spray or hand creme or something) that she didn't wear perfume. Whew. I couldn't get within fifteen feet of her!

For the record, just because it doesn't SAY perfume on the label in the front, doesn't mean it doesn't contain perfume. Shampoos, hair care products, deodorants, body sprays, lotions, detergents, drier sheets, "air fresheners", and more - all have toxic chemicals in them. Parabenzoates (derived from benzine, a poisonous petroleum product used to clean machinery.) Aldehydes (from the same family as formaldehyde - i.e., embalming fluid.) Known carcinogens. And people put that stuff on their bodies, let it soak through their skin?

I did. For many years it just wasn't on my radar. That's partly why I have this disease. It's called "Multiple Chemical Sensitivity." MCS. Exposure leaves me with headaches, disorientation, lack of concentration, fatigue, and eventually, migraine. The sooner I can get away from the source, the better. But where can one get away from something that's so pervasive? So I inform, educate, and keep doing it because there are actually people out there that have no clue that the "scent free policy" adopted by their workplace or their school or clinic - or their church - actually applies to them. After all, they "don't wear perfume."

After I began suffering with this, I made some changes in my life. I changed detergents to something where the only two ingredients were soap flakes and Borax. I changed my drier sheets out for a cloth one with metal fibers so that I'd get rid of static cling without the scent. I switched to a scent-free brand of cosmetics. I thought I was scent-free too, until I went to the clinic in a neighboring province to get a specialist to assess me. As soon as I walked in the door, the lady behind the desk said, "We're detecting a scent from you. Please change over there and put on this johnny-shirt and this robe. And when you put your clothes in this bag, tie it and we'll keep it here for you. Thanks!"

Whoa. Wow. I guess I needed to rethink some things. So I started purchasing brands that were on their list of approved products. I did find a fragrance-free detergent. And fragrance-free shampoo, and liquid soap. It's possible to make the switch... if you take the time to educate yourself. But the information out there is not easily available.

So - as a public service, I am posting the list provided by the Centre - here for all to see. Including men!!

RECOMMENDED PERSONAL CARE PRODUCTS FOR CHEMICALLY SENSITIVE PEOPLE
The Nova Scotia Environmental Health Centre encourages promotion of information which may be useful to patients. All products, however, should be evaluated for personal compatibility. This list is not all-inclusive and some items may not be tolerated by some people. Most of the following products are acceptable for use in the NSEHC.
Most of the products listed below are available at your local Health Food Food Store.

HOUSEHOLD CLEANING AND LAUNDRY PRODUCTS
Shaklee Basic H – (available through a distributor)
Simply Clean – Laundry, dishwashing, all purpose – available at Superstore, some health food stores
DownEast Homecare products – dishwashing liquid, laundry liquid, all purpose cleansers & scouring powder (Available at some grocery stores and pharmacies)
NatureClean products – Includes dishwashing liquid, laundry products, various household cleansers (grocery stores and some pharmacies)
Baking Soda
Borax
President’s Choice Phosphate and Fragrance Free Laundry Detergent and Tide Free. (Not to be used at the Centre as some people react to both of these products).

SOAPS AND SHAMPOOS, HAIR CARE
Nature Clean (Shampoo and Conditioner) (available at most grocery stores)
Spice of Life – Soap (Honey & Oatmeal, Avocado) (available at Great Ocean, Farmers Market, unscented and without glycerin)
Pure Gycerin Soap – available at the Bulk Barn, most grocery stores
Cliniderm shampoo and conditioner (available at Guardian Drugs)
Pure Essentials Fragrance Free shampoo and conditioner
Aloe Vera 80 – Styling spray (Scent Free Treasures – (902) 445 – 3193)
Infinity Rosemary – shampoo & Chamomile shampoo v@mosphere (shampoo, conditioner) (available at Guardian drug stores)
Aveeno (Body Wash & Bath Oil)
Laura Line – unscented liquid soap (available at Guardian drugs)
Basic Care daily cleansing shampoo – unscented (recommended use for EPD treatments)
Clinique (Pump) hairspray
Baby’s Own unscented (not to be used at the Centre)

BODY AND FACE LOTIONS / CREAMS
(Most lotions and creams available at your local pharmacy)
Aquatain – unscented body lotion
Lubriderm – unscented body lotion
Marcelle – face cream
Almay – face cream
Clinique – face cream
Noxema – sensitive skin, fragrance free
Nutragena – face cream
Complex 15 – face and body lotion
Aveeno – fragrance free lotion
J.M. Taylor – moisturizer
Cliniderm – hand lotion
Vernix – face, hand cream, and bath oil
Laura Line – face and body cream
Olay – for sensitive skin, fragrance free

DEODRANTS
Marcelle – roll on, available at most pharmacies
Crystal Rock – some pharmacies
Natural Science
Earthwise – Chamomile
Baking Soda
Simple – 1 –800-595-HEAL
Dove – fragrance free (sensitive skin)
Ladyspeed stick – unscented, invisible
Homemade recipe for deodrant – contact Anne MacDougall
SHAVING PRODUCTS
Use an electric razor preferably
Aveeno – shaving cream (available at pharmacies and grocery stores)
Simple
Kiss My Face – fragrance free natural moisture shave for extra sensitive skin
Alternatively, you may use any safe face soap which produces a good lather.
Sea Salt with some water when rinsing. It helps to keep skin from drying out.

And just so you know - those of you who are thinking that "Judy doesn't like perfume..."
It's not a question of preference. It's a real illness; I have a medical diagnosis. It's not even a question of "Let's all lay hands on Judy so she can be healed." I believe in divine healing; I have experienced it. But sometimes I think that the healing card, if you can call it that, is a cop-out : an excuse not to behave in a loving and considerate manner because that would mean that YOU would have to change.

No, it's not a matter of preference. It's a matter of love. What better way to display the kind of love that Jesus has placed inside our hearts than to be considerate toward the ones who suffer ... when there is a perfect solution for it if you were to have a little consideration and care?

If your solution is to "stay away" from me and still wear your scent - then you are not hearing me at all, and you certainly aren't aware of the clouds you leave behind that linger long after you're gone. You know, I might like you if I could get to know you. But I can't get to know you because I can't get NEAR you. Instead of attracting people - you're actually repelling people. Nobody says anything because nobody likes confrontation.

I don't like confrontation either.

But I do like to be able to breathe without wondering if I'm going to be sick because of it.

Just Daddy and me

I love to watch babies interact with their dads. There is an openness, an inner delight, that each gets from the encounter. It touches something deep in my spirit. I must admit that there have been times - not lately of course - when I've been in church and have listened more to the sermon being preached from the pew ahead of me where a father and his baby were interacting, than the sermon being preached by the minister. There is a unique love-language, a special bond, between dads and their infants. What a privilege it is to witness it! It's relationship. Relationship based on total love (provision, protection, nurture, attentiveness) on one side, and total trust (helplessness, dependency, expectancy) on the other.

That's a model for relationship with God. It's why Jesus said we had to become like little children. LITTLE children. Babes in arms. Totally honest and open before our Father. Exploring Him, looking only to Him, gazing into His eyes.

What a wonderful way to show us what He is like, what we are like when we are dependent on Him. No wonder He loves it when we trust Him. It's why He created us.

Detachment ... is a good thing

The bike-riding analogy I used in my last entry got me to thinking about the concept of letting go. I'm not specifically referring to the "Let Go and Let God" slogan that we associate with ceasing from our own efforts and relying on God's strength - although that's a pretty big chunk of it.

In this context, I am referring to letting go of others. In some circles this is called "detachment."

When I was first introduced to this concept by my counselor, I was offended, quite frankly. I was deeply involved in the cares and concerns of my husband, my children, my extended family. How dare he suggest that I let that go? How would they ever know I cared for and loved them? After all, I was protecting them - keeping guard over them.

It was exhausting. And I had lost myself somewhere along the way. Or I had never at all known who I was because I was so busy trying to please other people, trying to live up to their expectations, being their watchdog, their guardian, their ... their rescuer. They either ended up relying too much on me, taking me for granted, or resenting me for my interference.

I recently saw a photo of a dad letting go of his son's bike for the first time as he was learning to ride on his own. The dad had given him the tools he needed to protect himself, and he was with his son. Right beside him. But he knew he had to let go. Detach. Let his son make mistakes, and bear the consequences of those mistakes: skinned knees and elbows, perhaps. Fear of falling. But it was the only way his son would learn how to ride by himself.

The first stance I learned in my recovery from living for other people, rescuing them, manipulating them with guilt, trying to influence their beliefs, behaviors, and attitudes, was this: step back, take my hands off, and assume the "surrender" position (as if someone had pointed a gun and said, "Hands up.") I actually had to do that physically to emphasize in my own mind what I was learning spiritually. When I realized that what I had been trying to do all my life was really God's job, and that I needed to let HIM do it and take my hands off, it was such a revelation! In a very real sense, I was letting go, and letting God - letting God do His job, that is, and not interfering with it.

Before, I wasn't happy (my former definition) unless my children were a carbon copy of me. I felt threatened by anything different; they weren't allowed to think, believe, or speak differently than how I would. I saw life through a very narrow keyhole. But when I started to detach, the door opened. There was so much more to me, so much more to them, so much more to the world around me, than I had ever imagined possible. It was - and is - liberating.

I started to act as if I truly believed in a power greater than myself - whom I choose to call God. I decided to let Him be my Higher Power. Practically. In reality rather than in theory - or theology.

My children could hardly believe it. "What's with Mom?" they would ask their father. "Why isn't she flying off the handle?" At first they thought that this was a trick. That Mom was trying to gain their trust so that she could verbally clobber them. I might have expected that after all the manipulative thrashing around I did over the years. After a while though, they started to relax and believe that their mother had truly changed. Our relationships deepened. They started coming to me when they had a problem rather than hiding it.

It was, and is, amazing.
I'm happy. They're different from me, and I'm happy. Go figure.

Today I read something that I want to share with you, my readers. It's about living this lifestyle ... and learning how to love in a different way.

Detaching in Relationships
When we first become exposed to the concept of detachment, many of us find it objectionable and questionable. We may think that detaching means we don't care. We may believe that by controlling, worrying, and trying to force things to happen, we're showing how much we care.

We may believe that controlling, worrying, and forcing will somehow affect the outcome we desire. Controlling, worrying, and forcing don't work. Even when we're right, controlling doesn't work. In some cases, controlling may prevent the outcome we want from happening.

As we practice the principle of detachment with the people in our life, we slowly begin to learn the truth. Detaching, preferably detaching with love, is a relationship behavior that works.

We learn something else too. Detachment - letting go of our need to control people - enhances all our relationships. It opens the door to the best possible outcome. It reduces our frustration level, and frees us and others to live in peace and harmony.

Detachment means we care, about others and ourselves. It frees us to make the best possible decisions. It enables us to set the boundaries we need to set with people. It allows us to have our feelings, to stop reacting and initiate a positive course of action. It encourages others to do the same.

It allows our Higher Power to step in and work.

Today, I will trust the process of detaching with love. I will understand that I am not just letting go; I am letting go and letting God. I'm loving others, but I'm loving myself too.

(from The Language of Letting Go, by Melody Beattie, ©1990 Hazelden Foundation)

Pain's Purpose

Pain.
Nobody wants it; everyone (except one group: masochists) hates it. But we all experience it.

Physical pain. Emotional pain. Short-term, long-term.

Over the centuries, there have been varying theologies about pain. I say theologies because pain is so offensive to the human spirit that it cries out for explanation from the divine.

I know many people in the Christian world (and I speak of this world because most of my friends are in it) who hold to the idea that all pain is from the devil.

I'm not so sure. God created us with the ability to experience pain - both physical and emotional. If we believe that He is also love, then there must be a purpose to pain. This includes chronic illness, pain syndromes, mental illness, grief, and all those negative emotions we all try to deny we have. But we have them.

I don't claim to have it all figured out. But recent experiences as well as experiences others have had (and are having right now) have combined with observations I've made throughout my life, and I have a rather shocking idea to ponder.

Pain is a gift. From God!!

Oh, not a pleasant one, to be sure. But for a moment, let's just consider the physical aspect of pain. When we touch a hot iron, the nerve impulses send a message to the brain and within fractions of a second, the brain says, "That's pain. MOVE - NOW!" And that part of the body moves away - very quickly! The residual pain from the burn is a reminder to be more careful, not to touch the hot iron again. Usually we don't - unless by accident! If there were no message of pain ... instead of a blister, we would have a gaping wound from third-degree burns... and it would take a very long time to heal: much longer than a blister would.

I am sure that if Glenda, paralyzed from the mid-back downward, had been able to feel pain, say the pain of a urinary tract infection, she could have sought medical attention earlier, and would still be with us today. (Here's her story.)

Short-term physical pain is one thing. Chronic pain is something else. Sometimes I wish I could shut off the pain impulses that come from a recurring back problem. But even that is my body telling me that things have to change. "Sit up straight, don't slouch." And "What in the world are you wearing those high heels for? don't you know what that does to your back? Here, I'll show you!!" I've had enough chronic pain that I can sympathize somewhat with those who are never rid of it. And I'm not saying in the least that I don't believe that God can heal. Far from it. But let's face it - sometimes He doesn't. And we wonder why.

Emotional pain is the same way. Emotions are designed to be transient states that alert us to whether or not we are in a safe place. They are not "good" or "bad." They just ARE.

Jesus wept. He showed us several times that it was okay to express emotion. He Himself is passionate about us, about intimate relationship with us. My June post on that idea is in the link at the beginning of this paragraph.

We injure our psyches when we DON'T express how we feel, when we stuff feelings down inside and deny the existence of a problem, be it in our bodies, our circumstances, or our emotions. Doctors know this. Most of the chronic illness they treat originates from stress - and denial of stress increases stress. We can dress it up any way we want to, we can call it "speaking in faith" - but basically we are lying to ourselves when we deny ourselves the outlet that God has given us to deal with whatever is tearing at our spirits. A large part of mental illness and clinical depression stems from the unwillingness - or inability - to process hard stuff and let it out by expressing emotion and being honest with God and with ourselves about what's bothering us.

I'm not negating the physical aspect of these diseases. But we are triune beings: spirit, mind, and body. The three parts are inextricably intertwined. What affects one affects at least one of the others, if not both. God's way, God's purpose for us (in part) is for us to express those things honestly - preferably to Him. To ask Him the hard questions: He can take it! To tell Him we don't understand: He does! To learn to trust Him - even with the pain: He is there! Through the pain, to press into His heart and rely completely on Him. No deal-making, no excuses, no demanding. Just trust.

The same goes for circumstances. Again, I'm not denying that some events in our lives are orchestrated by the devil - for example, direct attacks on our personhood, tragedy, and (shocking I know) church politics. But God allows even these. Once more, does that mean He is not good? Definitely not! I believe, however, that God can use anything - ANYTHING - to get our attention. His one desire for us (as I mentioned) is intimate relationship with us, ever deepening, ever expanding.

Often we ask God to remove the very tool (circumstance) He is planning on using to grow that intimacy with Him, to drive us to our knees and seek His face. How could we ever learn anything if He removed the very instrument of His teaching?

To use an analogy from earlier days, if God never lets go of the bicycle seat because we are afraid of falling down and hurting ourselves, how will we ever know the joy and fun of riding the bike? Perhaps the very reason He lets go is so that eventually, He can ride with us and we with Him! so that He can take us places in Him that we never dared to go before!

I close with the lyrics of a song, a declaration of one who has been through so much:
Russ Taff.
I've been out in a cave for forty days
Only a spark to light my way
I want to give out, I want to give in
This is our crime, this is our sin

But I still believe, I still believe
Through the pain and through the grief
Through the lies and through the storms
Through the cries and through the wars
I still believe

Flat on my back, out at sea
Hoping these waves don't cover me
I'm turned and tossed upon the waves
When the darkness comes, I feel the grave

But I still believe - I still believe
Through the cold and through the heat
Through the rain and through the tears
Through the crowds and through the cheers
I still believe

I'll march this road, I'll climb this hill - upon my knees If I have to
I'll take my place upon this stage; I'll wait till the end of time ... for You!

For people like us in places like this
We need all the hope that we can get
I still believe - I still believe
Through the shame and through the grief
Through the heartache and through the tears
Through the waiting - and through all the years
I still believe ... no they can't take that away from me!

ohhh, NO NO NO!

Beautiful

I used to hate looking in the mirror.

Sometimes I still do.

Fairly early in my recovery, though, someone asked me if I ever did anything just for me.

I had to really think. At the time - no, I didn't do anything just for myself. Everything was for everyone else.

There's nothing wrong with doing things for other people. But sometimes the person doing those things gets lost in the process, and ends up resenting the very people she/he is doing things for. Burnout is a very real phenomenon, and it's been my experience that mothers tend to burn out thinking that "that's what moms do. They give."

Here's a quote from a daily meditation booklet called "Keep it Simple." There are some very poignant thoughts in it.

Beauty is not caused. It is.--- Emily Dickinson
Probably, there have been many times when we thought we weren’t beautiful. We thought we were ugly. We thought we were bad people. This is a natural part of addiction. Our program tells us we’re good, we’re beautiful. Do we believe this? Do we accept this part of the program?
Beauty is an attitude, just as self-hate is an attitude. We need to keep the attitude that we’re beautiful. We owe it to ourselves and to those around us. And, yes, it’s true that you must love yourself before you can love others. . . We have to love and see ourselves as beautiful, before we can give it to others.

What we have here is a return to the "Love your neighbor as yourself" concept. Not "more than yourself." AS yourself. It follows that if one doesn't love oneself, one cannot love others.

Self-love is viewed by the church as suspect at best. It's equated with pride, arrogance, self-absorption. I believe that the church has done its members a disservice. There are three types of relationships that are important to cultivate: (1) with God, (2) with oneself and (3) with others. All three are crucial, and they are essential to keep in that order.

When I first started examining my life to see the roots of my self-defeating and destructive behaviors, I realized that there were messages that I had heard all my life: lies that hurting people told me so often that I had learned to believe them, events that happened to me that led me to doubt myself, my place in the world. As I looked deeper, I detected the presence of a very frightened, very lonely little girl in my psyche - about 8 years old. That little girl was me. She didn't trust anyone, especially herself. She thought people were dangerous, that she was defective, that nobody wanted or loved her, and that she would always end up getting hurt. So I wrote down a set of statements that my adult self knew to be true, things I would want my own child to know. And I began to speak to that little girl. I told her the things that she needed to know. She was valuable. She was beautiful. People could love her just the way she was. The things people told her, did to her, made her do - these were not who she was. These things were not her fault; she didn't do anything wrong. She was unique, special.

She shied away at first. She resisted. But over time, as I kept affirming her worth, she started to respond. Little by little, she began to let go of the guilt and the shame of those years of repression and abuse. As she did, she - I - was able to make room in my heart for other people. As I learned how to love and accept myself more, I was better able to love and accept others.

Some days are better than others. But at least when I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror in the morning, I don't cringe like I used to.
It's a process.

Workin' Overtime

I've been working some overtime to help pay for the upcoming tuition bills. My employer has me doing quick and easy files during the day, but after I switch to overtime, only one kind of file will do because we're running behind on those kind. Some of them are quite involved and difficult. I don't want to say I've been spoiled - but you do get used to a certain rhythm and when it's changed, well, it can really make you think.

Another thing it can do is make you appreciate the times when you're NOT working overtime!! Like tonight. I only put in an hour tonight instead of two or more. That way it was still light outside when I got home, and I was able to sit and blog for what feels like the first time this week.

I like to write - - and I get to write for my employer, but this is different. This ... is me. It's what I love to do. It's an outlet, kind of cathartic. My thoughts run free and I am able to think important things, wonder about stuff, be grateful for the little everyday mercies that come my way.

How many people work overtime on the things that don't really matter in the end? Amassing toys, clothes, cars, jewelry, ... whatever. Everyone has an addiction of some sort. I know one person whose addiction is having a spotless house. Every little thing has to be in place or this person believes the whole house is a "mess." I know people who are addicted to alcohol, drugs, sex, food, (ouch) ... sports. I even know people who are addicted to conferences and retreats. (Whoa Judy, slow down, you're getting too close to home...) And I know several people who are addicted - to people. They can't get through a day without talking to at least 5 people - at length. (Oh, their bosses really LOOOOVE them... not!!)

Then there are the internal addictions. Thinking up ways to manipulate people into doing what you want. Wondering what people are thinking about you - or if they're even thinking about you at all. Worrying about the future. Beating yourself up over the past. Feeling guilty for not doing enough. Am I touching someone's spirit here?

The point is - there is an answer for all addiction. I stumbled on it when I was trying to help my husband recover from his alcoholism... by going to a counselor. He had the gall to give me something to read that implied that I mySELF might be in need of recovery!! But he was right. I needed to recover from those very self-same internal addictions I just mentioned.

Those who know me best will tell you that I'm not the same person I was even two years ago, that I've changed for the better. My husband and kids will sure tell you. Many of the things I said were "personality traits" and I excused by saying, "I can't help it; it's just the way I am," weren't really my personality traits, but behaviors I put on to survive the pain I had experienced at the hands of others, things other people had "put on me" - just like people wrapped Lazarus up after he had died - to keep him from moving, to keep him manageable. Those attitudes, those internal addictions, were my grave clothes. They were the trappings of death. Even after Jesus brought me to life, I spent my life hopping around in my grave clothes, thinking I was living. I needed someone to come alongside me and help me off with those smelly rags, filled with the stench of decay. I'm so glad that someone did just that.

I am living proof that anyone can be unwrapped.
All it takes is a willing heart to fully abandon oneself to a lifestyle of rigorous honesty.

Back to School

There she is - a month after passing the GED with flying colours. Afterward, subsequent to spending maybe six to eight months doing not much of anything except Skyping with her friends and going to a chiropractor for a neck problem - my oldest daughter announced shortly after Tsuri died, that she had decided to go to college. She wanted to take an executive assistant's program and maybe even work where I work someday.

I almost fell off my chair. I've been waiting for her to decide to do something about her education, but I had to stay silent... because she is not only my daughter but my husband's as well, and she can't be coerced into anything she isn't completely ready for. I'm only about 19 months into recovery from my obsession to "fix" people and therefore control their lives, their beliefs, their behaviour, and their lives, so I have learned somewhat how to let go and not control or manipulate. I'm SO glad I was able to "let go" and let her be who she is. Her decision is doubly rewarding for me now, because I know she came to it on her own without ANY input from me. How very freeing!

Anyway, she called the college a couple of days after Tsuri died and within 24 hours, they called her back and wanted to see her the next day. By the end of the next day, she had brochures and information up the wazoo. (What is a wazoo anyway?) And by the end of that week, she was registered. When my hubby called me with the dollar amount of her tuition - I was glad I was sitting down! Wow - five figures for like - 13 months of school... what's up with that?

So after my wallet stopped trembling, I realized that I would be spending as much if not more for her to go to university. And she'd be staying home so the expense of residence wouldn't be an issue. She has really stepped up to the plate. She's even looking forward to going.

This morning, though, I thought she was going to renege on her commitment to go to college. Tsuri's cage-mate Ceçania (pronounced Sah-SAH-nyah) died around 2 o'clock or so this morning, after my daughter's cat led her into the room and looked at the cage. It was like the cat knew something was wrong. Ceçania was very sick - appeared to be uncomfortable as well. She had gained weight astronomically since Tsuri's stroke and now she was appearing to seize, spasm, or something. With my daughter's attention and stroking she calmed down, but it was very clear that she had possibly developed a urinary infection ... or something worse, like a tumour - that would explain the sudden weight gain.

As Krysta told us about her pet's last hours, tears trickled down her cheeks, because while she was going through it, she was trying very hard to be brave for her furry friend, who was very sensitive to people's moods. After she had said her good-byes and made her apologies for neglecting her when Tsuri was so sick, Krysta made her as comfortable as possible back in her cage, in the corner where she and Tsuri slept together, with a little bit of fluffy material to be soft against her face. She had the time to say goodbye to her little friend. And shortly after two a.m., she returned, and Ceçania wasn't moving or breathing. She had died peacefully in her sleep.

After Krysta had put her back in the cage and before she knew that she had died, she wrote these words in a note to us in case she fell asleep before morning :

As of 1:15 a.m., Ceçania is very sick. Her forepaws keep trembling and she
won't move much. She hasn't been eating and I found her laying in a
puddle of her own urine.
Please set up an appointment with the vet tomorrow, if she's alive
when you read this. She looks sad, depressed, and sick. And in stress/pain.

I can't watch it again. Whatever the vet suggests, "sleep" or not.
I won't keep her alive for me.
She misses Tsuri. Take the action you think best, please.

What an ordeal she went through!! How very mature of her to think of her friend before herself. And she never once said that she wanted to back out of her college enrollment.

I am so very proud of my little girl. She is so very beautiful inside, where it counts. She has turned into the most amazing, mature, wise, compassionate, and loving young woman. I am very grateful to God - she makes my spirit smile.

My husband took Ceçania's little body out to the flower garden and buried her in the same hole Tsuri's body was in. The position they ended up in was very similar to the one they used to sleep in, together, when they were still alive and healthy.

This whole adventure - Tsuri, school, Ceçania - has been a learning experience. We learned from those two little four-footed beings, and we're learning from each other.

It's astounding.

How far He will go -

The most amazing miracles that happened during our time of want, during the bankruptcy, the court case, and the time when we were paying off the court fine, happened where it counts most: on the inside.

We learned to depend on God - yes. Out of necessity. We saw some financial miracles happen during that time and since - yes. God knows our needs; that's not in question. But the biggest miracles can't be measured in a measuring cup or by dollar signs. These are the ones that happen in the heart. One of the biggest ones that happened - and perhaps one of the major reasons we had to go through all that - was in relation to my attitude toward my husband's mother.

What I'm about to say might sound harsh, but at the time before we went into bankruptcy it is really how I thought, what I truly believed about her.

I thought she was evil. Not the "Hannibal Lecter" kind of evil. More like the Hitler kind - the kind that really believed it was doing what it was doing for the greater good.

She had bipolar disorder. It is a horrible mental illness caused (in large part) by an inability of the body to extract lithium, a mineral salt, from foods like spinach, lettuce, leafy greens, etc. It meant that she had extreme highs and lows of mood - it used to be called manic-depressive psychosis. Sometimes, yes, it seemed as though she had lost touch with reality.

She took medication for it but she hated what it did to her: weight gain, kidney problems. She would sometimes flush it down the toilet when she was feeling on top of the world. Her better self knew it was not good to stop taking her medication, so usually she remembered that she had to take it. Without it - she was ... scary. Even with it, she still had highs and lows that were far more pronounced than most people's. When she was on a manic phase, she'd talk and talk and talk. Her mouth got her into more trouble. Indiscretion was her chief enemy then - she'd tell anybody anything, her deepest darkest secrets - or ours. When she was depressed - she'd talk and talk and talk - but this time it would be in bitterness, resentment, and frustration over her lot in life. Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was on one phase or the other.

As with most people with a chronic and overwhelming condition, sometimes she excused her erratic behavior with her condition. "I can't help it. It's just the way I am."

I got so sick of hearing her say that.

It seemed - to me - that she would lay awake at night thinking up ways to screw up our lives. Then after only 2 hours of sleep, she'd get out of bed at 5:30 a.m., (there should only be one 5:30 in a day and it's not the morning) call us - no - call my husband up on the phone and refuse to talk to me but only to him. Not even hello. "Is my SON there." I lost count of the times he would just lay in bed with the phone propped up against his ear, mumbling "mfff" into the pillow as she droned on and on incessantly about how hard her life was, how nobody appreciated her, how it was so difficult to have a handicapped child (whom she depersonalized by calling her "a Glenda" - like this: "You don't know what it is like to have a Glenda..."), how her husband never told her he loved her, etc., etc. Once she'd carried on her monologue for 45 minutes or more and the night's sleep had been thoroughly ruined for both of us, she'd hang up ... and the next morning it would start all over again.

That's when we got the answering machine. One with a 30-second cutoff.

Resentment built up in me as the years went by and she made no effort to change. She'd say horrible things, usually about her daughter, and when we'd confront her about them, it was, "I never said that. I would NEVER say that!!" But she did. And always, "It's my condition."

She'd do things for us, and then expect us to return the favor. At least that was how it seemed. I believed there were always strings attached to whatever she did. I began looking for ways to avoid being around her. My husband had learned long ago to just let her talk - she would only get worse if he contributed to the "conversation" by injecting some truth or confronting her about how indiscreet she could be about our own lives in front of complete strangers, and being an extreme extrovert as well as having bipolar disorder.

I remember distinctly my breaking point. I was having breakfast at a local restaurant with my family - my husband and my two small children. We were in a secluded spot so as to be away from view to people coming into the restaurant; we wanted this to be "our time." The door opened and in they walked. She got within line of sight and made a bee-line for us while her husband sat at the table across the room from us. I knew that she would sit down right next to us and monopolize our time, this one time when we just wanted to be the four of us. How dare she!

I felt trapped. I felt like this was our last bastion, and she had ruined it.

I lost it. I was curt, clipped, and very rude to her. After about ten minutes of my downright nasty attitude and my inexcusable behavior, she went back to her table to sit with her husband. She was perplexed. I was still fuming.

My husband was silent for a few minutes. Then he spoke; his voice sounded hurt, bewildered. "Why did you do that? She didn't do anything to you just now. All she did was she happened to come into the same place you were in. She didn't know you were going to be here. What in the world is wrong with you?"

I opened my mouth - but nothing came out. I was without excuse. I had been wrong to attack her like that, and I knew it. And it was at that point that I knew that whatever her motivations were, I was the one with the problem. It bothered me - all that day.

I wanted everything to be all right. I wanted to feel what I knew I SHOULD feel for her. But I couldn't get past the hate, the hurt, the preconceived notions. I couldn't get past all the horrible things she had said to both of us, about us, about her own daughter - in front of her, no less. I could see it was ripping me apart to hold onto this. But I couldn't bring myself to be open to seeing her in a different light.

God put His finger right on that very thing that made me squirm. I wanted to do what He wanted me to do. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. However - because of how important my relationship with HIM was, I was willing to be made willing... and so I prayed, "Lord, whatever it takes - I want to be willing to let this go."

Within a few months, we sat in a bankruptcy trustee's office.

God had to let everything be taken from us. The pain was so deep, He had to start from scratch so that I could see how wrong I had been regarding my beliefs about her.

The woman I thought was so evil turned out to be one of my - our - strongest allies. The other ally we had was her daughter Glenda, who had been in our corner from the get-go (see my August 3, 2010 post.) My mother-in-law took it upon herself to buy about 50 to 60 dollars' worth of groceries (meat, no less) for us every week - and she kept it up throughout the bankruptcy period. She knew we could never pay her back. She didn't care. She never once asked for anything in return. That spoke volumes to me. She didn't know she was preaching that kind of sermon to me. She just lived it. At every turn, she never ceased to amaze me.

During that nine months and beyond, I had a lot of humble pie to eat, and I ate it alone - nobody knew. Even as we had to deal with the court case and the fine, she stood solidly behind us and refused to believe what the paper said, refused to believe that my husband intended to defraud the government, and kept on just giving and giving. Even when Glenda died in 1999, she kept her heart open to us, and as we helped her go through Glenda's things in the weeks after the funeral, she gave to us out of those items things that she believed would be special to us. And at last, when she realized that we could finally accept financial help, she took what little she had and made sure that we would be provided for in such a way that we knew we didn't ever have to pay her back.

I remember an incident that happened shortly before she passed away that illustrated to me just how much my thinking had changed - in fact, it shocked me when I thought about it afterward.

She'd already had the first heart attack. I had been to her house where there was a meeting going on between the members of the family to decide "what to do with Mom." I heard the words, "institutional care." I was told to leave, just take the children and go - I wasn't part of this decision. That stung. But I left and decided to go to the hospital to see the person they were all talking about. I found myself strangely looking forward to seeing her.

She was so glad to see me, as I knew she would be. I remember seeing a half-eaten meal on her tray. It wasn't like her not to eat. Anyway, I told her ... and I meant it ... that I liked to come and see her because she was always so pleased to see me. Then I said that I had just been at the house and was made to feel like I wasn't welcome there, that nobody wanted me around.

She fixed her gaze on me. There was fire in her eyes. "Well - that's THEIR loss," she snapped.

I was speechless. I didn't know what to say - and I doubt if I could have said anything at all even if I had tried. The last hurdle was gone. I knew that she had been generous all those times because ... she was just generous; giving was her way. And when she wondered why I treated her so badly after all she had done for us, it wasn't a guilt trip. She really was befuddled by it. In those moments, as the children played quietly at the foot of her hospital bed and the clock ticked in the background, I knew I had been so very wrong. So very wrong.

I reached out for her hand. She took it and squeezed it. "Will you do something for me?" she asked. "Will you make sure that that son of mine comes in here to see me? I miss him." I told her I would be able to bring him in, on the coming Monday evening.

She had a second heart attack in the hospital on Monday afternoon, the day I was to bring my husband in to see her, and she passed away before they could revive her.

And I grieved. I grieved for all of the lost time I had wasted being angry with her, all of the special times we could have had if she had been around longer, now that I'd just figured it all out. The resentments had fizzled and disappeared. Love and forgiveness reigned; in fact, it had already happened without me realizing it.

And when I realized (a few days later) just how generous she was, and just what great lengths God went to in order to answer my prayer ...

I sobbed.

Crime and Punishment - and God's Grace

".... to pay to the court the sum of fifteen thousand, two hundred eighty four dollars and sixteen cents, the equivalent of back taxes owed plus penalties and interest accrued during said time, to be paid to the court within two years."

Crack! went the gavel.

So it was official. My husband now had a criminal record. Huh. The lawyer motioned to us to follow him to an adjacent room.

We were still reeling anyway because he told us that his opponent had agreed not to mention where my husband worked, so as to keep that organization's name from becoming tarnished. He'd not kept his promise. We knew that this would hit the paper because our newspaper published court cases in the Saturday edition in a column we liked to call "Voyeur's Alley." The media would eat this up.

Anyway, we followed the man to the little room off the courtroom and he explained how the fine was going to work. "Don't worry about the time limit. The court will allow you to ask for an extension, six months at a time of course." We nodded. He told us where to send the fine payments and shook our hands. "I know that this is hard," he said. "But all things considered, I think it turned out well."

We nodded again. We exited the building in a daze.

Within a few days, we sat across from the bankruptcy trustee, as it was nearing the end of our nine month process. He told us, "You've handled your finances in an exemplary fashion and in the last nine months I've been able to collect over four thousand dollars from you, and that will be divided among your creditors. I am recommending that you be discharged fully from the bankruptcy process. You won't have to make any more payments to me after ... the end of June, two weeks from today." It was kind of like an anti-climax with all the other things that had been happening. We were relieved of course - but still...

And then it was Saturday. The story of the court case hit "Voyeur's Alley" in the local paper. "XXXX Employee convicted for tax fraud" - oh great - a headliner.

And then we found out who our friends were.

My husband's father disowned him. He believed everything - at face value - that was in the paper. No questions; immediate judgment. That really hurt.

His mother, on the other hand, maintained contact... even though she couldn't quite figure out the difference between the bankruptcy and the court fine. She thought it was all the same thing. For a while she even kept giving us meat from the grocery store (see last blog entry). We had to tell her (out of conscience) that she didn't need to do that anymore.

I remember that first day after the paper ran my husband's "story." We used to sit in the back of the church so the kids could play without disturbing anyone. We were back there when one of the pillars of the church walked by in back of us. He rarely spoke anyway - but he took the time to come over and squeeze my husband on the shoulder before going to his seat. That meant a lot to us. No words were spoken. But it was obvious he didn't believe the spin on everything he read in the paper.

Over the next few days I fielded phone calls from various people, people we knew and I never expected to hear from ever again. This one fellow called, one whose Bible study my husband had attended for years. "I know your husband well, and he would never knowingly do what they said he did," he said. "And I know those folks at RevCan. They were using him as a scapegoat and they chose him solely because you guys couldn't fight back. I just wanted you to know that my wife and I are in your corner. We're praying for you."

When I hung up from that call, my throat had a lump in it that felt like the size of an orange. As I remember that incident, lo and behold, there's that lump again! Bless you Albert, wherever you are.

Since the bankruptcy was discharged, and the fine loomed, it was time for me to seriously think about getting a job. The kids were old enough to be in school and daycare - so I started casting around for a job. I found one as a bookkeeper for a while, then as a technical support person at a local internet support call centre. While I was there, I got a call from someone in "Staffing" at what was then called the Canada Customs and Revenue Agency. My name had come up next on an eligibility list I'd forgotten about. Huh? Guess where I ended up working on and off for a couple of years? - at Revenue Canada!! HA! The irony! The timing!

All through that time period, I was whittling away at the court fine while paying day care charges, and my husband paid as much as he could on the fine after the regular bills were paid. Still, it wasn't coming down as fast as we wanted it to - and we had to ask for a couple of six-month extensions. We were nearing the end of the second six-month extension and screwing up enough courage to approach the court (hat in hand, so to speak) to ask for yet another, when something happened.

To let you understand how all of this came about, I have to back up just a few months. My mother-in-law called me one March morning when I was in between projects at the Tax Department (oh, that still makes me laugh...) and she asked me to once again explain to her the difference between the bankruptcy and the court fine. I told her again. She said finally, "So, you used to not be able to take gifts of money, and now you can?" I said yes, that was right. "Oh...I thought -" and she went on and on about how it all happened at the same time and it was so confusing. I let her talk.

Okay now - fast forward to the end of the second six-month extension; it was early August. Basically put, there were some serious health problems with my mother-in-law. She would forget she took medication, then overdose. That kind of thing. It landed her in the hospital with a heart attack. She wasn't herself - she was having to be told when to eat, what pills to take, etc. She recognized people, but she just wasn't ... right somehow. Anyway, to make a long story short, she passed away.

In the midst of grief, we got a phone call from her lawyer. About a week after she and I had talked in March, she had gone to her lawyer and updated her will. She'd made my husband the executor, and redistributed her assets to account for a death in the family (see my August 3, 2010 post).

After all the dust settled from her estate, which included her own father's annuity to be liquidated on her passing, there was just enough money willed to us and also from executor's fees - for us to pay off the rest of the court fine, which at that point was some five thousand dollars.

Just like that.

We viewed it as the gift she had wanted to give to us for such a long time and couldn't.

Her final gift. We were - and are - so grateful.

Miracles in the midst of want

I mentioned in my last entry that not all Christians judged us for our financial failure.

Some of them loved us through it, supported us with prayer and with kind words.

Still others went the extra mile and were willing to be God's provision for us as and whenever He led them to do that. It always turned out to be the perfect timing.

One day, about half-way through that nine months, I noticed that less and less of my clothes were fitting me. That was because we could only afford starches and high-fat meats. "Lord," I prayed. "I only have a couple of outfits left. I need some clothes, but I can't afford to go buy any, not even at the second-hand stores." Within two days, one person (I still don't know who) left a garbage bag on our back step filled with clothes... nice ones. Most of them fit me, and what didn't fit me, fit my oldest girl so she could hand down some of her clothes to her younger sister.

We didn't talk much about our problems, but there were those whose lives were affected directly, people we had to tell. Among those were members of our extended family. We got varying reactions from them, everything from hand-wringing worry from those who knew what it was to be in want, to something similar to "Let them eat cake" from those who had no clue what financial distress even looked like.

It just about drove my mother-in-law crazy that she couldn't write us a check for a hundred dollars and make everything okay for us. She even wanted to open a bank account for us. We told her that any extra money that anyone gave us would be confiscated by the bankruptcy trustee to pay the creditors with. She wanted US to benefit, not the people we owed. So every week, she would send her husband over to our house to drop off about three grocery bags of meat. Chicken legs or thighs, pork chops, lean hamburger, whole chickens. Sometimes even the occasional package of steak. She didn't get much in the run of a month; she called it "mad money." That she would spend her own money on us - just blew me away.

We never went without. There were times, the day before my husband's payday, that we had to rummage through the couch cushions for change. He'd go down the street with his head down - he was looking for coins people dropped. But with the generosity of some of God's saints, and His miraculous provision, our family never went hungry.

The first God-miracle we noticed though, came when the trustee sent an appraiser to look at our house, to see if it could be sold to pay the creditors. He made his assessment, looked at our mortgage, which we'd added to about five years previous in order to finish the basement, and told us that if the house were sold, there wouldn't be enough equity left over to pay the realty fees AND have enough to pay some to the creditors. So we got to keep the house.

A particularly trying time came when the tax department, who had been auditing my husband's taxes, decided to press charges for tax evasion. They knew full well that he couldn't fight the tax department in his situation of bankruptcy. He had made some errors in judgment about two years previous, based on lack of information about tax changes, and they decided he would be a great object lesson to anyone who wanted to have a home business and do their own taxes. Anyway, we had no extra money for a lawyer. The court date came, and the judge called his name. He stood up and the judge said, "Where is your lawyer?" He said he didn't have any. "Get one, and be back here in two weeks."

We found a lawyer willing to take our case but he charged a fee of $600. It was an enormous sum of money for a cash-only budget. It certainly wasn't an approved expense. However, my husband went to the trustee and told him the situation. Finally, after much pleading and arm-twisting, the trustee said, "Well, there's the third pay period this month. Out of that, you pay the mortgage and the lawyer. We get the rest." What about groceries, my husband asked. "No. The mortgage, and the lawyer. Nothing else."

When I heard this news, I was overcome with worry. No grocery money for two whole weeks?? How would we survive? How could anyone survive?

I needed help - some message from God to know what to do.

God was punching down the clay. Jeremiah 17 says that the clay was marred in the hand of the potter, so He made it again another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to make it. That's what was happening.

In desperation I opened the Scriptures. "Please tell me what to do, Lord. We are so in need of Your guidance." Somehow I remembered the story of the widow who was financially destitute. Her children were going to be sold into slavery to pay her debts. And she went to the prophet to ask him what to do. Of course this is the story of the widow's cruse of oil that didn't run out until she had enough oil to sell to pay her debts. But there was a part of the story that had escaped me... until it jumped off the pages of the Bible at me. When she explained her predicament, the prophet said, "What do you have in the house?"

I stopped. What did I have in the house? Well, now. I didn't know exactly.
"Find out," said a little voice in my head. Or was it my heart?

I decided to do an inventory. I went through the fridge and the cupboards, and put together a menu plan for 14 days' worth of breakfast, lunch, supper, and snacks. It amazed me that the little bit of food in the house would last that long. We actually had enough food. I discovered that if handled right, one pound of hamburger could stretch for three meals for two adults and two children. The only thing we had to buy in that 2 weeks was one container of milk. The loose change paid for that.

God had provided; there was no other explanation for it!!

The court did impose a fine, by the way, near the end of our bankruptcy period. It was substantial - and the bankruptcy laws didn't allow for that debt to be erased since it was imposed by the court system. In a way it felt as though we'd gotten out of one mess and into another.

But God wasn't finished with His miracles yet.

Bankrupt!

I was talking to a friend of mine today about how we know that God will provide for our needs ... but what exactly ARE our needs?

"Oh God, I really NEED a Porsche."

We might laugh at that kind of prayer. But it shows how deeply ingrained our western culture is and how it has seeped into the church.

What do we mean when we say that God will provide for our needs? Does it mean that we'll never, ever, not in a hundred years, go without? Is there room in our theology for a God who would allow a Christian to suffer want?

Is it ever God's will for a Christian to declare bankruptcy? There now, I've said it. The B word.

It's not something that is all that easy to do in Canada. In the States, declare bankruptcy and within six months you have at least some credit rating back. But in Canada, it's a very grueling process. You have to list all your assets and liabilities, then your bi-weekly (or monthly) income and expenses, itemize it, have a bankruptcy trustee go over each one and allow or disallow each one. The debts are forgiven in the sense that you don't ever have to pay the creditors back - at least not all of it. They are prohibited from calling you up to demand payment. That in itself is a great relief.

But for nine months, every expense is scrutinized, and every last cent that isn't spent on necessary (and approved) items is given to the bankruptcy trustee to be distributed to the creditors at the end of the nine months. If you've kept your nose clean, at the end of that period, the bankruptcy is "discharged" and you don't have to report to the trustee anymore. So that means there is a little more money at the end of the month.

However, that's not the end. Your credit rating is absolutely ruined. And it stays ruined for years. YEARS. Seven years, to be exact. And then you have to start from scratch.

The whole process is designed to make a person think very hard before committing to that kind of step. And it's also designed to teach people who have not managed their money well, HOW to follow a budget.

The mechanics aside - what is the will of God in this matter of a Christian declaring personal bankruptcy??

The truth is - I really don't know for sure. All I know is what we went through.

We had tried to operate a business. "Spend money to make money," we were told. So we got a fax machine, and spent money on faxes and on long-distance telephone calls to grow our contact network. We got lots of good contacts - but no sales. More and more money disappeared into the phone bill. We were spending some $700 a month in long-distance alone. This went on for quite a while. We borrowed to pay the bills, and we borrowed to pay the loans we got to pay the bills. The debt was crushing us. We felt like failures. We were stressed out all the time wondering where the next meal was coming from, or who would call us next asking for a payment.

In desperation, we went to the Orderly Payment of Debt (OPD) office. They looked at the debt load and (bless them, they didn't laugh) told us that if we went for OPD, we would be mortgaging our children's future for the next 30 years. They advised us to declare personal bankruptcy.

That period of time was the most wrenching of our lives up until that point. We were dealing with the possibility of being stigmatized by the very people who claimed to care about and love us - as long as we measured up to their expectations, we found out. The internal struggle, the pain of daily wondering when it would all fall apart around our ears - early on in the mortgage with no assets to call our own - we agonized about this decision.

And that's when we got a first-hand dose of "Christian love and concern." When I mentioned to one person that we were having significant financial problems and we didn't know what to do, she said, "Well, THAT's not speaking in faith...."

OUCH. And then she started telling me that she knew how I felt, how she and her husband were struggling to have enough money at the end of the month, and how God always made sure that they were able to pay the bills, yada, yada, yada.... She just didn't understand that it wasn't like someone could write us a check for a thousand dollars and fix everything. We needed over fifty times that amount just to make things manageable.

Another lady called me on the phone every day. She assured me that she and her husband were praying for us, that they were believing for a miracle. "Did you get your miracle yet?" was her first question, every time.

Finally, we knew it was time to declare bankruptcy when we sat across from a loans officer at a finance company to take out our second loan to buy groceries.

So, that week we decided to go to the trustee and declare bankruptcy. Although the initial setup was a difficult experience to say the least, the trustee looked at us at the end of the meeting, and said, "None of your creditors is allowed to demand payment of this debt ... ever again." For me it was like a two-ton weight fell off my shoulders.

And the next day the phone rang. It was this lady again. "Did you get your miracle?" she asked. "Yes," I said. She was excited and wanted to hear all about it. "God used us declaring bankruptcy to erase all of our debt," I told her. She stammered, cleared her throat, and made some excuse to hang up.

She never called again.

OUCH again.

We learned not to let anyone know about our predicament unless we had to. It was our experience that nobody wanted to hear anything about financial difficulty in the life of a Christian unless it was already resolved. It was a taboo subject, and fodder for criticism and judgment from many in the church. It went against some people's theology, a theology started by Wall Street and legitimized in the Christian community by such charismatic folks as Kenneth Copeland, Oral Roberts, and Robert Schuller.

I'll tell you what I think. I think that God can use ANYTHING for His purposes. I think that in some cases (not all) it IS God's will for a Christian to declare personal bankruptcy. It's not something a Christian would enter into willy-nilly. Going that route is not without a whole lot of heart-rending soul-searching and prayer.

I also think that Christians need to cultivate a response to the shocking news that someone has failed financially (or for that matter, morally), a response that isn't based on snap judgments, but on a desire to understand. Not a desire to understand the mechanics of the failure or to comprehend whose fault it was, but to really hear the heartache and the shame that is behind such an admission... and to focus on THAT rather than whether it's right or wrong.

God taught us so very much through the bankruptcy. He showed us just how powerless we were to get out of this mess on our own, and that was an object lesson to us of the spiritual predicament that ALL of us are in - unable in our wildest dreams to have a relationship with a holy God based on our own merits. When our debts were forgiven, we got a true picture of forgiveness - we never had to wonder whether this company or that company would come after us for payment. We knew they never would. "Just as if we'd never owed," was the perfect illustration of the Christian concept of Justification by Faith.

We did learn how to live within our means. Cutting up the credit cards, living on cash only, was a huge adjustment but we learned how to do it. It made life so much easier after we were discharged from the bankruptcy and nobody would give us any credit for years afterward. And we resolved never to get into a debt we couldn't pay back - ever again.

And there were so many experiences where God really came through for us and met our everyday needs through the kindness and the generosity of His people - for not ALL people in the church judged us. Some of them actually loved us... and showed us they loved us. God Himself worked a couple of really amazing miracles of provision along the way.

I think I'll save those miracles for another post.