Showing posts with label strength. Show all posts
Showing posts with label strength. Show all posts

Monday, May 17, 2010

What's Spillin'?



“I have a ten-inch scar on my thigh.” That was the opening line of the pastor’s sermon yesterday at church.

He went on to tell the story of his diagnosis, treatment, and healing of melanoma—skin cancer. I’ve had two good friends who died from that dreaded disease. Melanoma gets started in the skin, which is the largest organ in the body. The cancer takes advantage of that big open road and can move at Autobahn-like speeds, leaving death and destruction in its wake.

The pastor asked the congregation to read with him the first few verses from the New Testament book of James. Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds. Pure joy? Trials? Are you kiddin’ me?

I’ve read through the entire book of James several times. If you want a real challenge—if you want to be the best you can be—forget about joining the Army. Read the book of James!

The pastor held in his hand an open bottle filled with water, and he shook it. Water immediately began spilling out onto the floor. It wasn’t coffee that splashed out—neither was it tea or juice or champagne. You see, when life shakes us up, what spills out is exactly what’s been poured in.

The diagnosis of cancer shook up the pastor’s life. God, faith, and hope spilled out.

When our oldest son was 18 he was lost in his world of drug addiction. Because he was a legal adult, there was nothing I could do to help him. I could only love him and pray. There were long weeks when I didn’t know if Dallas was alive or dead. I had no idea where he was sleeping or if he was safe. I cried every night.

Then, as if my world wasn’t scary enough, our 16-year old daughter ran away from home. I kept going. I kept working each and every day—teaching, laughing, and dancing. I began my days at 4:30 or 5:00, took a quick shower, made a few phone calls, drove around town putting up “missing” posters, then off to work. After school—more phone calls and more posters, then to my second job. I’d crash around midnight. Everyday it was the same routine.

One day my boss and friend, Dan Pessano, said, “Liz, there’s a storm swirling around you, but you keep smiling. You’re Miss Mary Sunshine, and I appreciate you.”

I didn’t feel like Miss Mary Sunshine, that’s for darn sure! I was spending a lot of time crying, after all! But this was the deal…the people around me knew my life was falling apart, but they were noticing something in me. My life was being shaken and what was in me was spilling out.

I’ve written before about the woman who once told me I was “too weak” to be her friend. I believed her. Until life shook me to my core, that is. People who watched me walk through that fire tell me I’m the strongest woman they know.

Our family troubles did not shake our family alone. Our extended family and friends were shook as well, and what came out of them was not always good stuff. Some of them oozed criticisms, judgmental attacks, anger, confusion, and denial. Most people did nothing at all. Others, in their desperate attempt to help, gave stones when we needed bread.

We were shook, and what was in us came spilling out.

If you haven’t been shaken by life, you will be. The biggest challenges are like a melanoma—if left unchecked it will move quickly and take over the whole body. If it’s dealt with, it will leave a scar, but you’ll learn what you’re really made of.

So, what’s in your cup? Fill it up with the good stuff—God, faith, love, and family.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Words and Wounded Spirits

Why is it that the mind will so readily replay the ugly and hurtful words heard as far back as childhood, but the kind and encouraging words are so hard to receive and believe? Psychologists work with patients to try to find the answer to that question, and I would guess the answers are as numerous and diverse as those who do the seeking. I have three kids and I have accepted the fact that all of their emotional ills are mother-related. That’s okay. For years after I’m dead, my kids will still be paying for their therapy. Hey – at least they’ll be talkin’ about me ☺

Life has presented me with many reasons to seek counsel and therapy. Sometimes there are things in life that are just too big to handle without the benefit of wiser and more experienced direction. I have slowly come to understand that just because someone believes something to be true of me, doesn’t mean it is so! However, once upon a time, a dear friend un-friended me, and her reason for doing so plagues me to this day.

I have survived and have in some ways thrived beyond my wildest expectations, despite unimaginable life challenges. Those who know me are aware of those challenges and they are many and varied. I wrote about my struggles a few weeks ago in a blog entitled, “Please Forgive Me If I Have A Bad Day”. Once people hear my story, the ONE thing they all say is, “Liz, you are the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” Yep, a woman is like a teabag – you don’t know how strong she is until she’s put in hot water. I’ve definitely been in a lot of hot water and I’ve come out wiser and happier than I ever imagined I could be. But I don’t feel strong. I don’t believe I’m strong. I wish I appreciated my apparent strength. You see I once lost a friend because I was not strong enough, and it doesn’t matter how many people say otherwise, her words haunt me.

Rhonda told me she wanted strong women in her life and she said I was “too weak” to be her friend. I was shattered. My best friend, Pam was with me during that meeting with Rhonda and she promised to defend me and open Rhonda’s eyes to the truth about me. A year later, however, Pam told me that the “door of opportunity” had closed for her to talk with Rhonda. I lost two friends.

Words destroy – it’s just that simple. The kind words of an acquaintance are wonderful, but it’s the opinions of friends that matter to me. I think that’s why Rhonda’s hurtful words (and Pam’s inability to defend me) have not been undone by the supportive words of hundreds of other people. I still profoundly feel the pain of losing my two good friends (at least I thought they were friends).

I don’t write this to make anyone feel sorry for me, or because I blame anyone for anything negative in my life. NO! That would NOT be the truth! I simply want people to learn from my life. Please, please, please - we must understand that our words tear hearts and wound spirits.