Last week I sat in a dark auditorium and watched my daughter and four of her friends perform a one act play that she had written. I always cry when any of my kids performs, whether it’s singing in the choir, acting in a play, or chasing a ball in sports. I just can’t keep the tears at bay when I watch my kids doing their thing.
But this day the tears streaking down my face were from more than just pride, my heart was breaking. The play is titled “Not for the Perfect” and it’s the story of a picture perfect family that was anything but. It's the story of parents and kids who were trapped in a cycle of abuse, addiction, and abandonment. It was a hard story to watch. Harder still knowing that my daughter and her friends used stories from their own real lives as inspiration for the play.
I have four new scars on my body that I didn’t have a month ago. Four lines of pink skin that marks the spots the surgeon’s instruments were placed. Those four scars join a host of others. Some visible, many hidden. All of them with a story to tell.
Just a little update on what’s going on with me and why you won’t be hearing from me in the mornings for the next few weeks.
I don’t think I will ever forget February 9, 2015. Even more than the day we brought sweet Ruth home… even more than the day the paperwork craziness was finally done… this day will forever be a maker in my memory...
It's been over a year since I've written anything, at least publicly. My journal has gotten quite the workout, but I didn't blog at all in 2015. I didn't set out to take a year off from writing, it was purely accidental. Honestly, I didn't really feel like I had anything to say. Normally that wouldn't matter because I would still post out of a sense of duty or obligation. But if I learned anything in 2015 it's that God's not really concerned about the pressures I put on myself to perform, He just wants me to love Him and let Him love me with no strings attached. That's a hard lesson for a girl whose identity has always been tied to her performance.
It’s that time of the year again, time to pause before a new year begins and spend some time reflecting and planning. Below is the list of questions I work through each year. I find them to be quite helpful, and hope you do too.
Happy New Year!
In my Bible between the Old and New Testament is one single sheet of tissue-thin blank paper. One page. I can flip past it in the blink of an eye, which is deceptive, because that single sheet of empty paper represents 400 years of silence. 400 years of wondering. 400 years of questions.
Will rescue come?
Will love come down?
Will God ever speak again?
Three years ago I found myself sitting in my car in a parking lot on a Friday night. I knew I needed to get out of the car and go in but I was afraid. I was also desperate, and that night I let desperation win.
I got out, walked across the parking lot and pulled the doors open. I was greeted by the distant sound of people singing. I made my way across the lobby, and into the sanctuary where I quietly slid into the back row. Before the first song ended I was fishing tissues out of my purse to try to stop the flow of tears. For the first time in a long time I felt safe.
It’s what we all long for, what we all plan for. We dream of falling in love with the ideal person and having the ideal marriage, with 2.5 ideal kids and an ideal golden retriever, living in an ideal home with an ideal picket fence and ideal car parked in the drive way. We plan for the ideal college to accept us with the ideal amount of financial aid and an ideal degree which will lead us to an ideal job field where we can use our talent to advance our ideal career.