Scar Tissue

On Sunday the pastor continued his sermon series titled, “The Journey”. After his surgery to remove skin cancer he was given a cream. The nurse instructed him to apply the medication daily and it would diminish the ugly scar on his leg.

“I don’t want it”, the pastor told his nurse. “I want the scar to remain so I can remember my journey.”

I have deep, deep scars on my heart and my life. They are left from the cuts, bumps, scrapes, tumbles, and run-ins I’ve experienced during my family’s journey over the past several years.

Some of my wounds were self-inflicted. Other people dumped some of the emotional trauma on me, and I was left with nasty scars. Their ugly behavior was caused by their submission to drugs, selfishness, anger, jealousy, or plain old sin. Whatever the cause, I carry the marks with me wherever I go.

Scars on our bodies are created when new skin and tissue grow where the old skin has been damaged, cut, or ripped away. An injury or incision of any kind always causes pain—sometimes a little and sometimes more than it seems possible to bear. But, healing happens naturally, and the imperfections left behind are evidence of that healing.

The brain sends out signals to the rest of the body that say, “Hey, we’ve been wounded! All hands on deck! Blood vessels, cells, muscles…you all know what to do—now get to healing!” The healthier the body - the quicker the healing.

Restoration for me took longer than it should have in some torn areas because the body failed to come to my aid (church, family, etc…). But healing has occurred and great growth has changed me for the good, and has added purpose to my life.

I love my scars. They remind me of where I’ve been and where I never want to go again. They keep me grounded and focused on what’s really important in life. They are a constant reminder that new growth fills in the empty holes left after the old is ripped away.

A family member once chastised me to “stop blaming the past for where you are.” That’s just silly. If I lost my legs in a car accident my life would be forever changed. I wonder if anyone would say, “Liz, stop blaming the car accident for losing your legs.”

I don’t blame the ugly experiences for where I am today anymore than I blame my childhood tumbles for the small scars on my bodies. They just are. The marks remind me of all we’ve survived!

I am grateful for where we are and for how far we’ve come. The fact that my children are alive is nothing short of a bona fide miracle. The scars remind me and I am happy to have them. They are evidence of survival and fabulous new growth!

Mother's Day

Sunday was Mother’s Day. I blogged yesterday about my lack of confidence, and that uncertainty slips into my mothering. Being a mom, however, is the best thing that ever happened to me.

My kids and my husband tell me I’m a fabulous mother. I had the luxury of staying at home with my two sons and daughter when they were little, and I put them first. Being my kids’ mom has brought me mountains of joy.

Dallas, Drew, and Giana have always been unique. Not in that “my kid is cuter than your kid” kinda way. I mean they are extraordinary. It was as if they were born wearing wings on their backs and roller blades on their feet. From the moment they took their very first breath, they were itching to fly.

My kids reveled in their uniqueness. Sometimes, that meant they pushed boundaries and crossed lines. One Sunday morning when Dallas was around 4 years old, I picked him up from his class after church. His teacher looked at me and said, “Dallas was very bad today. Tell your mommy how bad you are.” I didn’t know whether to cry or smack that chubby gray-haired woman!

The years have washed away the details of whatever trouble my son had caused, but I know I went home and taught him the difference between being bad and doing wrong. Good people sometimes do bad things, but God loves us still.

The church busybodies and rumormongers used to stop me in the hallway on Sundays. One said, “I heard you don’t believe in spankings. I think your kids need a good spanking.” Another woman said, “I heard you let your kids watch ‘The Power Rangers’. I think that show is making them crazy’.”

I wish I’d had the courage to ignore any sentence that started with “I heard”, but I was a young mom and I valued the advice of older women. I also grew up in a gossipy church, so this type of female chatter was…well…normal. By the way—I DID spank my kids, and I did NOT let them watch “The Power Rangers”.

One day a few years ago I ran into a woman who asked about my kids. I was sad to report that Dallas was battling a drug addiction and had recently been arrested. “Liz”, she said as she took my hand in hers, “Dallas made his decision when he was a little boy. It’s time to give up on him.” Never! I’d never give up on my children.

When my kids were younger I went to every dance recital, talent show, opening night, soccer game, basketball game and parent/teacher conference. When they got lost I searched for them in crack houses, seedy sides of the city, homeless shelters, and dark alleys. I loved on them when they were in jail, rehab, and hospitals. Today, they are my friends.

So, another Mother’s Day has come and gone. It would have been impossible to be a perfect mom or to raise perfect kids. I am human and flawed, after all. Tom and I have raised fabulous free spirited kids.

Dear Dallas, Drew, and Giana,
I thank God for you, and I am so grateful that He trusted me to be your mom. I thank you guys for your love and friendship. You stretched me, taught me, and helped me become the woman I am today.

To the ladies out there who get to be "Mom" to extraordinary kids—Happy Mother's Day! They were born to fly and you get to enjoy the adventure. Blessings to you all, and hang on!

Thank You Kay!

Several years ago I met a young girl I will call “Kay”. Kay was maybe 16 or 17 when I first became aware of her. She was a not only a beauty, but she was a gifted singer and dancer. I had been working with the Junior Company (a performance training ground for talented kids) for a few years, and then – as now – I loved working with those great kids. Anyway, Kay was brilliantly talented, and she was around the same age as my own kids. I absolutely loved watching Kay perform on stage – and she performed a lot.

Like many kids that grow up in and around our theatre company, when Kay was around 19 she stepped out of the spotlight for a time while she went to college and worked. Kay was growing up. I would occasionally run into Kay’s mom at church and although we didn’t know one another outside of church or the theatre, we would exchange polite conversation. Then life happened. All my focus and energy turned to my kids as two of them plummeted into the giant abyss of drug addiction. One day I went with my son to a family drug counseling session and sitting in the room was Kay’s brother and her parents. Like so many of us, the evil ravages of addiction were assaulting their family. Kay’s mom and I connected immediately.

I grew to love Kay’s mom. My son was living on the street, and her son was in the same predicament. We encouraged and prayed for one another. Sometimes Kay would be at church with her mom, but it was apparent that she was wrestling with demons of her own. One day, about a year and a half ago, I was driving down the road and Kay’s name popped into my head. Okay, it was more like her name exploded in my head. I pulled over to the side of the road and wrote down her name and the date. I prayed for Kay everyday for the next two weeks. Then, on a Tuesday night while driving home from choir, I was listening to the local news in my car and it was announced that two arrests had been made in connection with a string of home invasion robberies. They said Kay’s name. I pulled over and called Kay’s mom, who had not yet heard that her daughter was in jail. She said, however, that she hadn’t heard from Kay in over two weeks and just that morning she had prayed, “God, please let me know by the end of the day that Kay is alive”. I said, “she’s alive and she’s in a safe place”. I knew then why God had placed Kay on my heart two weeks before. I wrote to Kay while she was in jail and did my best to encourage her. My son had been right where she was and I hoped my letter would lighten her heart. We exchanged several cards and letters over the next few months.

It has been a year and a half (or more) and Kay’s sentence was severe, but she was given the option of being sent away for a two-year stint in rehab. That is where she is today. Sunday at church someone said, “Liz, do you know that there’s a gift in the office for you?” It had been in there for two weeks! I collected the Christmas bag, stuffed with red and gold tissue, and I found tucked inside a beautiful flowerpot that had been hand made and painted by Kay! She had sent it home with her parents when they had visited her in October. The poor little plant had been neglected and was turning yellow, but it was alive. I cried as I read the card. I cried as I unwrapped the pot. I cried and cried. Kay was working on getting well, but had taken a moment to think of me. I am humbled!

Thank you Kay! I pray for you and your family every day. I’m so proud of you.

Who let who do what?

Yesterday I had a late afternoon meeting with an adorable young woman from my church. She is mature beyond her years and has had much more responsibility thrust upon her than most adults her age - and she handles it beautifully. Anyway, she shared a quick story with me during our time together. We were talking about the judgmental nature of us human beings.

The other day my young friend was at a sports game with her husband. Since his son from a previous marriage was playing, the husband's ex-wife was there as well. At one point a few years ago, we attended the church at which the ex-wife is still involved. During a break in the game my friend was going over her calendar with her husband and she happened to mention the upcoming meeting with me. The ex-wife overheard this, leaned over to my friend and said, "Liz Stoeckel. Isn't she the woman who let her kids take drugs?". My friend said, "Don't talk to me", and that ended that.

Yeah. I "let" my kids take drugs. Doesn't every good mom? Honestly. What possesses people to say such completely ridiculous things? I'll tell you what I am not about to "let" my children do - I am not about to "let" them die and that's why I've stood by them every step of the way as they've fought to survive and recover.

I refuse to LET you beat me down.

Family Resemblance

We’ve all seen them. They’re in the mall, in the grocery store, in the car sitting next to us at the red light, in church, even at family functions. They are kids – other people’s children – who misbehave, throw tantrums, scream, and just generally act obnoxious. When we encounter these obviously undisciplined little monsters, we’ve all done it…..we’ve asked ourselves, “what is wrong with the parents and why aren’t they fixing that kid?”

Lately we’ve heard all the stories about “young Hollywood” running amok – Britney, Paris, Lyndsay, Nicole – these girls provide seemingly never-ending fodder for gossip papers, newspapers, and late night talk show comedians. The daytime talk shows have been asking the question, “Where are their parents and what did they do wrong?”

I’m a mom whose own children were challenging (to say the least) and my kids have made more than their fair share of mistakes. I’ve heard many a condemning whisper from so-called friends about my parenting skills and my children have been the topic of hushed conversation among the busy bodies in my world. My kids are now young adults and they are the first to tell you that my husband and I were very present and were indeed tough but fair disciplinarians. My children will tell you that they themselves are responsible for the poor and dangerous choices they made. But…the judgmental whispers about me – the mom - rattle about.

So, using the same logic – that the missteps of a child are a direct reflection of poor parenting, I submit a question for you to ponder today. For those among us who claim to be Christians, how often do you think people look at our behavior and judge The Father? Don’t you know that when we treat one another callously, thoughtlessly, selfishly, judgmentally, or rudely, we are a reflection of God the father? Wait! That’s not fair! Well, fair or not, why would people want God for a Father when they see His kids battling one another in word and deed every single day?