The other day while we were having story time in our Home School, we had a moment. Alexa was full of questions about God and how Jesus rose from the dead. How was that possible? Come to find out that this question stemmed from her thoughts that if Jesus could rise from the dead, he could do anything. If he can do anything, then why didn't he let us keep Ava? We spent a long time reading some scripture about the accounts of the resurrection. We spent some time talking about how while God can do anything, He does not always CHOOSE to do what WE want Him to do.
It's a tough one to swallow. How can we worship someone that can do anything and everything, but not give us what we think we need? My little nearly 7 year old grapples with questions we all wrestle with.
God loves us. He created us. But He did not create us so that we can demand from Him so He will serve us. I love my children. I do serve them from time to time. Do I always give them what they want? No. It's not good for them. It's not good for me. It's the same with God. I tend to view death as a gift. Some think of it as a sacrifice. For the person who dies, if they are Christians, gets to finish their race. They complete their task her on earth and get to have their eternal reward. To want Ava to come back would be selfish. Don't get me wrong I want both of my kids back. I wish they were not gone. But would I want them to live in the condition they were in? OF course I wished that God chose to heal each of those babies so that they could have stayed with us. But life on earth is not forever.
Sure it feels like forever sometimes, but it's not. So I told Alexa some of these things. We talked a few days later and she told me that she is angry that Ava died. I told her that it's totally OK to be angry and to be mad with God. We talked about how sometimes we get mad with each other, but that never changes our love for one another. We talked about how Mommy and Daddy are mad too. She knows it will take some time, but we will talk it through and we will work it out together. I told her that it was OK to tell God how she feels about Ava's death, He won't be upset.
When we moved on to History, we talked about Egyptian tombs. All of a sudden I looked at Emily who was screwing up her face. I asked what was wrong and she burst into tears. I pulled her on my lap, rubbed her back and told her to let it all out. When I looked up at her, I could tell she was having a flashback about Ava's graveside service. We talked about it and I held her. We were able to talk about why we buried her sister and how we all feel about it. Then we finished our lesson.
By the time we had to leave to go get Miss Elaina Pants from preschool, I was pretty much wiped out.
I got to thinking. This is why we home school. So that we can take the time to talk about what we need to talk about. This doesn't necessarily have to be about Ava. It can just be about what's going on in their little expanding minds. Then I thought about things would be different if they went to school somewhere and had to carry those thoughts that burden them around all day. That they had to suppress them and have no one to talk to.
There are so many children in our schools hurting everyday. I remember when I first got on Facebook and started to connecting with friends from my school days. I began to learn and see what they were dealing with all those years. I would glibly float through the day. Never aware.
I am so grateful for the opportunity to teach our Bugs. I love nothing more than to watch them high five when they get it. To watch their eager little faces as we talk about things they love. I love that we are afforded the time to talk about the things that are important to them. Or to talk about the things that are locked up and begging to pop out. I am just so sad for those other children in our school systems that are so heavily burdened and so desperately need to unload.
I think of the children that are bullied. But I think about those that bully as well. What burdens do those children have locked up so tight that anger and violence is the only escape?
Our God can do anything, and He can heal and reach those hearts of those fore lorn kids. I think that we should pray for them and for their teachers as they are predominate influences in their lives.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Basketballs
Last week Allan and I were interviewed for 99.5 WJBR's Sunday morning "Focus on Delaware" show. One of the questions, which I now paraphrase, was 'How do you as a Mom take care of your other children after the deaths of 2'. I'm not gonna lie I had Allan go first because I was nervous, but then he got 'tell me about the Joy-Hope Foundation'. (Lesson learned).
My simple answer was God. Really that is how I can do anything. I went on to talking about the day to day, less ethereal parenting. Working the tricky balance of having Eric and Ava be apart of the family without going overboard and having the focus all on them.
I didn't talk about trying to meet the needs of little ones whose needs are so important without screaming "your brother and sister went through medical Hell and you are crying because you bumped your knee!!!!" I have always had enough restraint to not do that. I know they are two separate situations and that that knee bump hurt. But sometimes I did think it.
I didn't talk about how there is no time to cry when you have little ones at home. No time to work it out and get lost in your head. No time to open the flood gates and pour it all out for the length of time you need to. A luxury (?) I had immediately after Eric died. With kids around, these things definitely eek out, but are not attended to through to completion. Usually someone needs a drink, a hug, a snack, some space from a sister... And in the midst of your process, real time living jars your thoughts and off you go.
The problem is the build. The pressure cooker of emotion that has to escape. It will and it does. For me that is never a positive balance. I snap at the kids. Their seemingly innocuous questions turn into chirping in my ears. I put my feelings of being unsettled on them and they become unsettled. They whine, cry, pick at each other and yell. How do I react? The same way. Then I want to escape and hide never to come out. They seek my attention and want lots of hugs. I want space and to not be touched. Then need to be reassured. I guess I do too. We spiral downward. I feel out of control and all a buzz since the kids are "driving me nuts." Until, I let it out, blow off some steam and just flat out cry.
The problem is being able to cry in a way that is healing to your soul. I'm not talking about the tears that roll down your face when a memory flashes, or someone does something so sweet and touching. Rather it's that deep inner wail of intense pain that there are really no words that can possibly describe. It's hard to hear your child do it. It's hard to hear your spouse do it. It's so hard do allow it to happen yourself. What's worse is that as time marches on that "cleansing good cry" need crops up- more spaced out- but still appears. It's never convenient and always painful. With it comes the memory of how far deep in grief you were when_______. With it comes a fear that you are, as a family, slipping back to square one.
When you let it out, you see the other side and realize that it's another step on the rung on the ladder of grief. It's like dribbling a basketball. Keep it low to the ground you will not get out of the pit. The harder you bounce it the higher out you climb. When it crashes to the ground, it rebounds higher and you have more hang time and a brief encounter with the crap you need to get out of your head.
I struggle with the balance of it all. I know I am not the only one out there that does. No one likes to feel different. No one likes to be in a social setting and only see the holes life has left. No one really wants to face grief head on. I know I don't. I also know that I need to or that ugly ogre Mommy will be around to stay. The ball will bounce low and get stuck at the bottom of the pit.
My simple answer was God. Really that is how I can do anything. I went on to talking about the day to day, less ethereal parenting. Working the tricky balance of having Eric and Ava be apart of the family without going overboard and having the focus all on them.
I didn't talk about trying to meet the needs of little ones whose needs are so important without screaming "your brother and sister went through medical Hell and you are crying because you bumped your knee!!!!" I have always had enough restraint to not do that. I know they are two separate situations and that that knee bump hurt. But sometimes I did think it.
I didn't talk about how there is no time to cry when you have little ones at home. No time to work it out and get lost in your head. No time to open the flood gates and pour it all out for the length of time you need to. A luxury (?) I had immediately after Eric died. With kids around, these things definitely eek out, but are not attended to through to completion. Usually someone needs a drink, a hug, a snack, some space from a sister... And in the midst of your process, real time living jars your thoughts and off you go.
The problem is the build. The pressure cooker of emotion that has to escape. It will and it does. For me that is never a positive balance. I snap at the kids. Their seemingly innocuous questions turn into chirping in my ears. I put my feelings of being unsettled on them and they become unsettled. They whine, cry, pick at each other and yell. How do I react? The same way. Then I want to escape and hide never to come out. They seek my attention and want lots of hugs. I want space and to not be touched. Then need to be reassured. I guess I do too. We spiral downward. I feel out of control and all a buzz since the kids are "driving me nuts." Until, I let it out, blow off some steam and just flat out cry.
The problem is being able to cry in a way that is healing to your soul. I'm not talking about the tears that roll down your face when a memory flashes, or someone does something so sweet and touching. Rather it's that deep inner wail of intense pain that there are really no words that can possibly describe. It's hard to hear your child do it. It's hard to hear your spouse do it. It's so hard do allow it to happen yourself. What's worse is that as time marches on that "cleansing good cry" need crops up- more spaced out- but still appears. It's never convenient and always painful. With it comes the memory of how far deep in grief you were when_______. With it comes a fear that you are, as a family, slipping back to square one.
When you let it out, you see the other side and realize that it's another step on the rung on the ladder of grief. It's like dribbling a basketball. Keep it low to the ground you will not get out of the pit. The harder you bounce it the higher out you climb. When it crashes to the ground, it rebounds higher and you have more hang time and a brief encounter with the crap you need to get out of your head.
I struggle with the balance of it all. I know I am not the only one out there that does. No one likes to feel different. No one likes to be in a social setting and only see the holes life has left. No one really wants to face grief head on. I know I don't. I also know that I need to or that ugly ogre Mommy will be around to stay. The ball will bounce low and get stuck at the bottom of the pit.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Rosebuds (not the sled)
After two weeks of VBS at two Wonderful churches, I look around and our house seems to have exploded. So on this deemed "lazy" Saturday we've been trying to regain control. At the same time Allan and I are planning what needs to happen next to get our Music For Memories Concert which happens on August 20!
It's hard to find balance between housekeeping, working, mommying, training for a second half marathon, getting ready to home school and to get ready for the Joy-Hope Foundation's events in the coming (weeks) and months. Sometimes, like when I typed out all that I have on my schedule, I get a little overwhelmed at what I am doing. On the whole, I know that I am going in a direction not of my own planning and so I will be just fine. On the days that I feel overloaded, I suggest that you look out. I may be grumpy. :-)
When I am the absolute most frazzled is when the house explodes. I can't think straight, I look at all the more I have to do and *KA-BL-OW* it becomes a work day, a recycle day, a "lets see how many toys we can throw away" day.
I am learning that with the crazy busy schedule we have we need to have some semblance of organization. So I am diligently trying to keep up with the systems I am trying to establish so I don't get over come when something takes over in life and we are back to square one. It's a long work in progress, but the operative word here is progress.
One observation that I find intriguing: I can not fold laundry on a messy floor. So I clean and vacuum the family room before I fold. If I can't get the job done and the basket sits, the floor is infiltrated by all kinds of laziness that my Bugs love to exhibit: tiny papers, crayons, toys, blankets whatever. If the laundry is folded and put away, this does not happen. It's a phenomenon. Or is it? Kids really do as we do and not as we say.
This morning as I donned my cleaning clothes and set the Ipod to "loud" I found I did not get angry as I usually do about my ineptitude in organization. Instead I began thinking about all the amazing people I talked to , worked with, and volunteered with over these last two weeks. I was thinking about all that God is doing in our lives- individually and as a family. Then I realized that many of these people that are dear in my life are here as a result of Ava's life and death. I wish I had my daughter there is no doubt about that. But the people that God placed in our lives as a direct result of Ava's life richly bless us and we are so very honored to know them. Through tragedy, there are always blessings. You have to work hard through the tears and negative thoughts to see them, but they are there.
I've been really missing and remembering Eric and Ava a lot lately. They would have been celebrating their 8th and 2nd birthdays in the coming weeks. There's been many moments lately where it's been highlighted that I am missing my "baby" phase as I watch who would have been Ava's playmates turn two, visit a new baby born or take my children and two others to a classroom. Those moments are sweet and tender because I love each of those kids so much. But they are not without the pang and twinge of grief and what if.
Always on the other side there is a smiling face, something that needs to get done, or an uplifting message that propels me through the moment. Sometimes a good cry can wash it away. And of course there is my "Eric" rose bush that has been horrifically neglected, greeting me with only two yellow buds in time for some birthdays.
It's hard to find balance between housekeeping, working, mommying, training for a second half marathon, getting ready to home school and to get ready for the Joy-Hope Foundation's events in the coming (weeks) and months. Sometimes, like when I typed out all that I have on my schedule, I get a little overwhelmed at what I am doing. On the whole, I know that I am going in a direction not of my own planning and so I will be just fine. On the days that I feel overloaded, I suggest that you look out. I may be grumpy. :-)
When I am the absolute most frazzled is when the house explodes. I can't think straight, I look at all the more I have to do and *KA-BL-OW* it becomes a work day, a recycle day, a "lets see how many toys we can throw away" day.
I am learning that with the crazy busy schedule we have we need to have some semblance of organization. So I am diligently trying to keep up with the systems I am trying to establish so I don't get over come when something takes over in life and we are back to square one. It's a long work in progress, but the operative word here is progress.
One observation that I find intriguing: I can not fold laundry on a messy floor. So I clean and vacuum the family room before I fold. If I can't get the job done and the basket sits, the floor is infiltrated by all kinds of laziness that my Bugs love to exhibit: tiny papers, crayons, toys, blankets whatever. If the laundry is folded and put away, this does not happen. It's a phenomenon. Or is it? Kids really do as we do and not as we say.
This morning as I donned my cleaning clothes and set the Ipod to "loud" I found I did not get angry as I usually do about my ineptitude in organization. Instead I began thinking about all the amazing people I talked to , worked with, and volunteered with over these last two weeks. I was thinking about all that God is doing in our lives- individually and as a family. Then I realized that many of these people that are dear in my life are here as a result of Ava's life and death. I wish I had my daughter there is no doubt about that. But the people that God placed in our lives as a direct result of Ava's life richly bless us and we are so very honored to know them. Through tragedy, there are always blessings. You have to work hard through the tears and negative thoughts to see them, but they are there.
I've been really missing and remembering Eric and Ava a lot lately. They would have been celebrating their 8th and 2nd birthdays in the coming weeks. There's been many moments lately where it's been highlighted that I am missing my "baby" phase as I watch who would have been Ava's playmates turn two, visit a new baby born or take my children and two others to a classroom. Those moments are sweet and tender because I love each of those kids so much. But they are not without the pang and twinge of grief and what if.
Always on the other side there is a smiling face, something that needs to get done, or an uplifting message that propels me through the moment. Sometimes a good cry can wash it away. And of course there is my "Eric" rose bush that has been horrifically neglected, greeting me with only two yellow buds in time for some birthdays.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Arms Length
There's been a steady stream of unsavory news from many friends lately. Some is a big deal, some could become a big deal, some a big deal in the moment, but will end up a blip on the screen.
When I was telling the Bugs about the latest friends who are in need of prayer, Emily pipes up and says, "What is happening to our friends?" I was thinking the same thing!
Yesterday a Facebook friend posted that she was "feeling blue". Two weeks ago I was talking with someone at our church and found out that his wife is a cancer survivor. Allan and I noticed some years back that he was going with some "Surfer Hair" and then suddenly it was cut. We assumed he got a new job. Nope. Locks of Love for his love.
I am being made aware right now that we will all hallowed hall at some point in time. Depending on where I am in my walk will greatly impact my ability to reach out and listen. The people we encounter day in day out are faceless strangers, an acquaintance, a good friend, even family. But as we rub shoulders and get annoyed for the invasion of our personal space do we really KNOW what is going on in their lives?
I sometimes feel guilty that seemingly the whole world rallied around our family in our time of crisis, yet I can't seem to get it together enough to rally and support all those who are in need.
Some days, with laundry piled up and a pantry seemingly bare it's hard to dig into my hollow emotions and empathize, support, love those around me. Instead, I hold the bad news at arms length- "Whew, I don't really know them. Now I don't have to rally." "Wow that stinks, well it's their walk now."
See if I let their crisis into my soul, into my heart, I am afraid that I will fall apart. I live in a delicately balanced state of comfort, peace, emotion. Of course it's OK to be grateful that a particular crisis is not ours to walk. I don't know too many people who would be jumping up and down with arms raised to walk our walk. I think that is OK to feel that way. What is not OK is to brush it off and not follow up in someway. Even through the darkest times, I know that I care. I may not be able to be there in a way I usually would. But I will pray. But I will still stay an arms length away.
I feel like I am waking up to the world around me now. I am capable of looking outside our little world we are desperately trying to rebuild and redefine. As I take my baby steps back out into society I have to hunker down and be ready for all the crappy situations that happen to people to hit me like a ton of bricks. I have to remember that while it is that person's walk and experience but I can support, love, pray and be there for that person.
I can not believe how broken we all are. How we struggle to hang on to what is good and what we think is right. I can not believe how much God loves me and how as I move through each day that He gives me He protects me. I am amazed at the protection He provides for all of us. Just because the situation may not be ideal, the circumstances may even be horrific, but yet there He is loving and protecting us. That is the Good that I am going to hang on to. The Good that comes from the the One who protects and loves me no matter what I do or don't do.
When I was telling the Bugs about the latest friends who are in need of prayer, Emily pipes up and says, "What is happening to our friends?" I was thinking the same thing!
Yesterday a Facebook friend posted that she was "feeling blue". Two weeks ago I was talking with someone at our church and found out that his wife is a cancer survivor. Allan and I noticed some years back that he was going with some "Surfer Hair" and then suddenly it was cut. We assumed he got a new job. Nope. Locks of Love for his love.
I am being made aware right now that we will all hallowed hall at some point in time. Depending on where I am in my walk will greatly impact my ability to reach out and listen. The people we encounter day in day out are faceless strangers, an acquaintance, a good friend, even family. But as we rub shoulders and get annoyed for the invasion of our personal space do we really KNOW what is going on in their lives?
I sometimes feel guilty that seemingly the whole world rallied around our family in our time of crisis, yet I can't seem to get it together enough to rally and support all those who are in need.
Some days, with laundry piled up and a pantry seemingly bare it's hard to dig into my hollow emotions and empathize, support, love those around me. Instead, I hold the bad news at arms length- "Whew, I don't really know them. Now I don't have to rally." "Wow that stinks, well it's their walk now."
See if I let their crisis into my soul, into my heart, I am afraid that I will fall apart. I live in a delicately balanced state of comfort, peace, emotion. Of course it's OK to be grateful that a particular crisis is not ours to walk. I don't know too many people who would be jumping up and down with arms raised to walk our walk. I think that is OK to feel that way. What is not OK is to brush it off and not follow up in someway. Even through the darkest times, I know that I care. I may not be able to be there in a way I usually would. But I will pray. But I will still stay an arms length away.
I feel like I am waking up to the world around me now. I am capable of looking outside our little world we are desperately trying to rebuild and redefine. As I take my baby steps back out into society I have to hunker down and be ready for all the crappy situations that happen to people to hit me like a ton of bricks. I have to remember that while it is that person's walk and experience but I can support, love, pray and be there for that person.
I can not believe how broken we all are. How we struggle to hang on to what is good and what we think is right. I can not believe how much God loves me and how as I move through each day that He gives me He protects me. I am amazed at the protection He provides for all of us. Just because the situation may not be ideal, the circumstances may even be horrific, but yet there He is loving and protecting us. That is the Good that I am going to hang on to. The Good that comes from the the One who protects and loves me no matter what I do or don't do.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Coming Home
What a whirlwind! We sailed right through April into June. Allan was given a month off from work so he could work on the Joy-Hope Foundation. I am so proud of all he accomplished during that month. Today is his first day back and I am missing having him around. I'm back to that sense of feeling lost. I realized how much easier it is to live my life with him in the house.
I suppose we will all adjust to being back in the real world, so to speak. But I'm just saying that to have him around there are 2 of us to field all the Ava issues that crop up. I find that it's easier for me to not take on their emotions when Allan's here with me.
We also had the opportunity to travel during the first week of June. Let me tell you Alabama is really really far away from Delaware. The Bugs did so great in the car though. It is pretty funny that whenever we get in the car there are questions of "how long will this take?" "is this as far as Aunt Debbie's house?". It seems nobody trusts us anymore. :-)
The hardest thing about going away is the coming home. We all feel free and unencumbered then back to reality. I know that this is true for all who return from vacation. The twist I am figuring out is that I don't like to come home. There are too many "reminders" lurking in every corner. I keep thinking that maybe if I paint or redecorate it will help. Then I wonder if that is the right answer.
After Eric died we were able to move into this house. We needed a bigger place since our exersaucers did not really fit in our townhouse. I recall the feeling of being able to breathe again. It felt fresh and new. A fresh start. Not running away, mind you, but fresh. A move is not feasible now. I'm OK with that. I just wish I knew how to make this place not feel like such a tomb. It's like a vortex of grief we all get sucked into when we re-enter our lives.
For me this is negative in that I become easily discouraged and less motivated. I work hard to keep my head above water. I find that other peoples joys bug me. I am so so happy for them, but jealous for me. I hate that. I also find that I wait for the phone call, email, facebook message that will reaffirm me. I hope something huge happens for the Foundation and find that it's small steps that will get to the huge. Yet I sit, impatiently.
I wonder what example I set for our Bugs. We know and Trust that God is in control and has our collective backs. We lean on Him. We do. But to have a disengaged Mommy is something I wish I knew how to rectify. I suppose one tiny step at a time.
I suppose we will all adjust to being back in the real world, so to speak. But I'm just saying that to have him around there are 2 of us to field all the Ava issues that crop up. I find that it's easier for me to not take on their emotions when Allan's here with me.
We also had the opportunity to travel during the first week of June. Let me tell you Alabama is really really far away from Delaware. The Bugs did so great in the car though. It is pretty funny that whenever we get in the car there are questions of "how long will this take?" "is this as far as Aunt Debbie's house?". It seems nobody trusts us anymore. :-)
The hardest thing about going away is the coming home. We all feel free and unencumbered then back to reality. I know that this is true for all who return from vacation. The twist I am figuring out is that I don't like to come home. There are too many "reminders" lurking in every corner. I keep thinking that maybe if I paint or redecorate it will help. Then I wonder if that is the right answer.
After Eric died we were able to move into this house. We needed a bigger place since our exersaucers did not really fit in our townhouse. I recall the feeling of being able to breathe again. It felt fresh and new. A fresh start. Not running away, mind you, but fresh. A move is not feasible now. I'm OK with that. I just wish I knew how to make this place not feel like such a tomb. It's like a vortex of grief we all get sucked into when we re-enter our lives.
For me this is negative in that I become easily discouraged and less motivated. I work hard to keep my head above water. I find that other peoples joys bug me. I am so so happy for them, but jealous for me. I hate that. I also find that I wait for the phone call, email, facebook message that will reaffirm me. I hope something huge happens for the Foundation and find that it's small steps that will get to the huge. Yet I sit, impatiently.
I wonder what example I set for our Bugs. We know and Trust that God is in control and has our collective backs. We lean on Him. We do. But to have a disengaged Mommy is something I wish I knew how to rectify. I suppose one tiny step at a time.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Spreading some wings
We made it through our first year of Homeschooling!!! We ploughed through snow days and spring break so we could hit our required days of school mark early enough to enjoy some spring and sunshine. Yes, we will try it again next year. This time for all three of the bugs. As I am learning to live my life, I am taking this on a "I'll do it until God tells me not to" basis. Did I ever mention how hard that is sometimes?
The Big Bugs had a busy week with their very first piano recital and then a Spring Program at the school they attend for classes one day a week. I was so proud of them. Not too long ago, Emily was too afraid to even go up and sing with her Sunday School class. At first they would stand there and cling to each other. Then one time Alexa went up with out her sister and sang a couple words. Three years later, they fully participate. I am so proud of them.
The Spring Program had two performances. When we got to the evening performance, Elaina was squirrely. As the first group opened the first couple measures of the song she was in need of some redirection. "Elaina come sit still." "Why, Mommy? They sang this already!" I would love to know what she thought she was going to hear for the second performance!
As I got ready to go to the second show I couldn't help to think about HOW MANY individual and repeat performances my parents endured for us kids. Not to mention that all three of us grew up being in multiple groups and plays. Hats off to my awesome parents!
We are entering a new phase in our lives: Cheerleaders. Now that's not so new because I believe that is the role we play as soon as your child is born. "Did you go poopy? Yeah what a good girl!" But now we get to clench our hands as they go up to the front on their own power. The lights go up and what will be will be. I guess we are always in training for letting them go out into the big world.
Maybe concerts are just God's way of training us parents to let them fly out of the nest.
The Big Bugs had a busy week with their very first piano recital and then a Spring Program at the school they attend for classes one day a week. I was so proud of them. Not too long ago, Emily was too afraid to even go up and sing with her Sunday School class. At first they would stand there and cling to each other. Then one time Alexa went up with out her sister and sang a couple words. Three years later, they fully participate. I am so proud of them.
The Spring Program had two performances. When we got to the evening performance, Elaina was squirrely. As the first group opened the first couple measures of the song she was in need of some redirection. "Elaina come sit still." "Why, Mommy? They sang this already!" I would love to know what she thought she was going to hear for the second performance!
As I got ready to go to the second show I couldn't help to think about HOW MANY individual and repeat performances my parents endured for us kids. Not to mention that all three of us grew up being in multiple groups and plays. Hats off to my awesome parents!
We are entering a new phase in our lives: Cheerleaders. Now that's not so new because I believe that is the role we play as soon as your child is born. "Did you go poopy? Yeah what a good girl!" But now we get to clench our hands as they go up to the front on their own power. The lights go up and what will be will be. I guess we are always in training for letting them go out into the big world.
Maybe concerts are just God's way of training us parents to let them fly out of the nest.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Anger
Anger. It seems that is what makes the world go round right now. Last night I had the opportunity to sing at a shelter. As I looked out over the group of residents, I was overwhelmed by the tough exterior and the hardened eyes. These people were tired and just plain angry.
At work, I run into more and more people who are angry and forget to treat others with respect.
It seems we are all in such a rush to protect our own space. That we hold tight to our emotions and protect them with anger. That the anger inside wells up like a pressure cooker and explodes.
We have anger in our house. We all have anger in our house. The emotion itself is not a bad thing to have. When it becomes caustic is when we don't deal with it, let it out and let it go.
In our house there are a bunch of hot tempered sensitive people. Not a good combination I tell you. We constantly try to talk about and find ways to express the anger that billows in black clouds of smoke.
It makes me sad to see so much anger. I know that under the hot river is a person who was "wronged". A person who is hurting, sometimes so deeply hurt that the reason is lost.
We all hurt. We've all been wronged. How can we press on in spite of it? How can we learn to not compare one hurt to the other. How do we keep from passing the wall of fury on to our children?
There is only one way that I know how. By learning to know and rely on God. It's a hard thing to
do, even when you've known Him for the majority of your life. It's hard because you wonder where He was when the negative circumstance occurred/occurs. I know that there are many times when I've felt like that. As mad as I've been with my circumstances. As much as I've wondered where God was, I hang onto the fact that even though I may be mad, He's still hanging around, loving me. God does not promise that our life will be easy. He promises to love us and never leave us.
I ask Him to take away my anger and to break down those tough painful violent walls of the the nameless coarse faces I encounter. I'll tell you it takes a lot of courage for that to happen. To let go enough so you can feel that pain that burns underneath. But it's doable, if you ask God to help you. Maybe, just maybe anger can used to work toward the good. Maybe it might not be taken away as much as chipped away, reconfigured and changed. Through the pain and walls God has plans for each of us. He can mold us, if we millimeter by millimeter, allow ourselves to bend. We are not responsible for the decisions of others. We are responsible for how we deal with the affects of those decisions.
At work, I run into more and more people who are angry and forget to treat others with respect.
It seems we are all in such a rush to protect our own space. That we hold tight to our emotions and protect them with anger. That the anger inside wells up like a pressure cooker and explodes.
We have anger in our house. We all have anger in our house. The emotion itself is not a bad thing to have. When it becomes caustic is when we don't deal with it, let it out and let it go.
In our house there are a bunch of hot tempered sensitive people. Not a good combination I tell you. We constantly try to talk about and find ways to express the anger that billows in black clouds of smoke.
It makes me sad to see so much anger. I know that under the hot river is a person who was "wronged". A person who is hurting, sometimes so deeply hurt that the reason is lost.
We all hurt. We've all been wronged. How can we press on in spite of it? How can we learn to not compare one hurt to the other. How do we keep from passing the wall of fury on to our children?
There is only one way that I know how. By learning to know and rely on God. It's a hard thing to
do, even when you've known Him for the majority of your life. It's hard because you wonder where He was when the negative circumstance occurred/occurs. I know that there are many times when I've felt like that. As mad as I've been with my circumstances. As much as I've wondered where God was, I hang onto the fact that even though I may be mad, He's still hanging around, loving me. God does not promise that our life will be easy. He promises to love us and never leave us.
I ask Him to take away my anger and to break down those tough painful violent walls of the the nameless coarse faces I encounter. I'll tell you it takes a lot of courage for that to happen. To let go enough so you can feel that pain that burns underneath. But it's doable, if you ask God to help you. Maybe, just maybe anger can used to work toward the good. Maybe it might not be taken away as much as chipped away, reconfigured and changed. Through the pain and walls God has plans for each of us. He can mold us, if we millimeter by millimeter, allow ourselves to bend. We are not responsible for the decisions of others. We are responsible for how we deal with the affects of those decisions.
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