Bullies

A couple of days ago I wrote about the sadness caused by friends who keep silent. The post was inspired by my friend, Cameron’s Facebook status in which he quoted Martin Luther King, Jr. Today I’ve been inspired once again by a Facebook status, and the power of words.

From a friend: The day just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Random encounter at a gas station. Went in to fill up, a bully from my days in junior high comes up to me. At first did not recognize him, till he called me by my name I used then. Instantly my guard went up. He came over and apologized for the way he treated me back then. WOW! So long ago, but I appreciated that so much.

The bully could have stayed silent. My friend hadn’t even noticed or recognized the tormenter from his past. But the man didn’t keep his mouth zipped; rather he shook off any hint of embarrassment and humbly faced his ugly former self.

There’s a lot of talk these days about bullies. Look, we’ve all got our stories. My maiden name was “Santori” and since I’m six feet tall I was often called, “Two-story Santori”. I went to a Christian high school and never really felt like I fit in. I was too poor, too tall, too unattractive, too whatever.

As an adult I’ve been bullied - mostly by other women. No matter the age of the antagonizer, there are some truths to remember. They need to put other people down to make them feel better about who they are. They’re jealous, insecure, scared, envious, or just plain mean. It’s rarely about the victim.

Of course, when you’re the one getting tormented, gossiped about, or the one about whom people are telling lies; it’s almost impossible to not take it personally.

Several people responded to my friend’s Facebook post, and he himself wrote a follow-up comment. Still in shock. For someone to do that. I can't tell you how much time, and therapy, I have gone through dealing with a lot of that "junk" from my past. Nice to scratch off a name from my "list" of people who caused me so much grief back then.

He went on. You know the old saying, "sticks and stones...yada, yada, yada, but names will never harm me." SO not true. Words are extremely hurtful and CAN stick with you for years. They have and they did. Hopefully by this man’s action, maybe karma has been unkind to him. Karma is a powerful thing. I forgave him, and wished him well.

I couldn’t have said it better myself. Like my friend, I’ve been through tons of therapy because of WORDS. Stupid, hateful, and dumb words! Crazy! And, as I wrote the other day, silence can also hurt and tear friendships apart. We’ve all faced the opportunity to stand up to a bully, but how many of us have done it? Not enough, I’m sure.

Notice my friend’s last sentence, “I forgave him and wished him well.” I forgave him. Wow! That is what grace looks like. Awesome!

To those of you who used to be the schoolyard bully, listen up—it’s not too late to do the right thing. Words hurt. The pain caused by ugly words lessons over time, but never disappears altogether. It’s never too late to say, “I’m sorry”.

"The Silence of our Friends"

On Monday of this week we celebrated the life of human rights advocate, Martin Luther King, Jr. For the week leading up to the holiday my friends posted some of their favorite King quotes on Facebook.

Cameron posted the following King quote on his profile page: "In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

Dr. King’s life was cut short by an assassin’s bullet on April 4, 1968. I was six years old—a kindergartner at Tarpey Elementary School in Clovis, California. I don’t remember how my parents reacted to the leader’s death, but I remember people around me expressing concern for the state of our world.

We lived in California, where everyone accepted everybody and everything, and I never sensed the deep-seated kind of hatred that white people in other parts of the country seemed to feel toward blacks. That may be why I was much older before I really understood the risks that Martin Luther King, Jr. took in speaking boldly.

Dr. King encouraged all of us to refrain from silence. It wasn’t enough to have black friends, he asked us to speak out and speak up for said friends. He gave us all—regardless of skin color—the courage to speak boldly.

I do understand how silence can ruin a friendship and shatter a trust. I long ago accepted the ugliness and weakness of character as revealed when a person opens their mouth to condemn, criticize, or castigate an innocent person. But the friend who sits quietly by and says nothing? I can’t comprehend what motivates that kind of silence.

We don’t hesitate to open our mouths and vomit our opinions on anyone who might be within earshot. We declare the democrats are too soft, the republicans lack compassion, Christians are hypocrites, and the police are corrupt. We whine and complain about the weather, high gas prices, the cost of pack of cigarettes, and the volume at which television commercials are blasted at us.

We don’t hesitate to express our opinions concerning subjects about which we have little knowledge, and yet we fail to speak up on behalf of a friend in need of our support.

Have you kept silent for too long? It’s not too late to let your voice be heard. Someone needs you to break your silence today. I bet you can think of a friend who needs you to do more than nod in agreement. They need you to open your mouth and tell the truth—to defend them against a terrible wrong.

At the end of my friends’ lives I would hate any one of them to spend a minute remembering a time when I could’ve spoken up, but didn’t. How sad that would be!

"In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

Dancing With Skeletons

It's Wild Ride Wednesday. When I'm gone, I'll be leaving behind a messy legacy...and I wouldn't change a thing! I'm gonna dance with all the skeletons in the closet!

My life is messy, and I like it that way.

Several years ago a friend of mine was lamenting about the different girls his son had dated. There was a huge difference, he noted, between the young ladies who came from intact families, and the ones who grew up in broken homes. The girls whose parents were still married were decidedly more stable, and my friend hoped that just such a young woman would end up being the mother of his grandchildren.

I was a bit offended by that generalization. I’m the product of a broken home AND I’m divorced, and I’m fabulous!

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about pedigrees and family legacies. Like most kids, I wished and prayed for my parents to stay together. However, as I grew and matured I came to understand that mom and dad were healthier people apart from one another then they might have been if they’d stayed in a bad marriage.

People brag about their family legacies. I know people who come from a long line of doctors or teachers or artists. They wave the branches of their family trees with honor and pride.

Many of my friends are Christians. Christian legacies are very important. It’s not unusual to meet pastors whose parents and grandparents were pastors, or couples whose families haven’t seen a divorce since the turn of the last century.

I also know many people who are ashamed of some of the nuts growing on their family tree. They sweep the dirt of their kinfolk under the heirloom rug and bury ugly skeletons deep in the basement closet. They don’t talk about the uncle who once spent time in prison, the crazy cousin who’s been divorced three times, or the brother that doesn’t spend holidays with the folks.

My own father didn’t know his dad had been married to another woman before his mom until he was in his mid-twenties. That was a well-kept family secret.

I’ll be leaving a messy family legacy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way! My parent’s marriage wasn’t perfect, and I thank God. If it had been, I wouldn’t have a beautiful little sister named Megan. My husband’s mom and dad both said “I do” more than once. Although Tom was the only child born of his parent’s union, he now has eight brothers and sisters—all wonderful and incredible people. We’re so lucky.

I divorced my oldest son’s dad after he walked out more than 25 years ago, but we are blessed to have my ex’s family in our lives. My kids have made bad choices and they’ve taken us on a wild ride, but oh, the incredible people we’ve met along the way! I’m so grateful for the counselors, parole officers, wayward kids, and parents of prodigals who’ve inspired and loved us. My life is better because of each and every one of you.

Yep, my life is messy. Our family isn’t perfect. We’ve stumbled along the way and we’ve got skeletons in our closet. Unlike some of you, however, we bring our skeletons out to play. We dance and rejoice with them as we remember where we’ve been, appreciate where we are, and look forward to the good days yet to come.

Everyone deserves another chance!

Every person has been gifted in wonderful and unique ways. Everyone has a diamond inside of them - a diamond just waiting to shine. This wonderful video reminds us to look beyond the wrapping and see the fabulous gift inside each and every man and woman.

I Choose Wholeness

One of my Facebook friends posted the following status recently: Psychologists say we judge and condemn others according to our own weaknesses. We project our weaknesses onto them.

I thought about responding with a snide comment. For you see, this is the woman who—along with her husband—convinced a pastor that I was manipulative and controlling and therefore should be replaced. They made their case by accusing me of saying things I hadn’t said.

We don’t have to look far to know that the psychologists are right. We see pastors rail against homosexuals, only to be exposed as a closeted gay. Politicians fight prostitution, only to be outed as regular consumers of the working girls.

Girls are great at making mean and ugly accusations against one another. My husband often says, “Boys are dumb, girls are mean.” True. We’re jealous, self-conscious, insecure, and snide. Although I believe that’s what we are deep down inside, we have the power to be our best selves, not our weakest selves.

A few women in my life have been a bit grumpy about the fact that I’ve pulled away from them. Instead of asking why I’ve made that choice, they’ve done just what the psychologists have suggested they would do—they’ve assumed things about me. These assumptions might just say more about who they are, than who I am.

To the family member who told me I don’t “accept people for who they are”—I wish you could accept me as I am. To the cousin who believes I was “in the belly of the whale”—you were wrong. Your words did, however, reveal SOME truth. I wish you’d listen to what I’ve learned (and it’s not what you think). To the woman who accused me of being jealous of her, the woman who told me God shut the door of opportunity to do the right thing, the lady who told me I’m unforgiving, and the mom who accused my kids of doing something they didn’t do; I wish I could help you understand. I’m sorry you chose to bulldoze over our friendship.

I choose to be positive. I choose to be around women who seek to close wounds rather than rip them open over and over again. I choose to walk away from the accuser, and into the arms of the healer.

I choose to make 2011 the year of wholeness.

Labels

A few days ago a friend posted the following as his status update on Facebook; “People’s performance usually reflects the expectations of those they respect. – John Maxwell”

That quote stuck with me and got me to thinking about all the labels we put on people. I’m certainly guilty of labeling people, which is shameful since I know how it feels to be unfairly classified. Unless it details a calorie and ingredient breakdown, a label is rarely a good thing.

Then at church on Sunday Dale taught about the danger of labeling people. So, I thought I’d blog some of my thoughts on the topic.

One Sunday morning when Dallas was about four years old I went to pick him up from his class at church and the teacher met me at the door. “Dallas was very bad today.” She looked down at my son who was now standing at her side. “Tell your mommy how bad you were today.”

I wanted to punch that woman! You can tell me he misbehaved, you can tell me he was a bigger challenge than he normally was, but do NOT call my child “bad”. From that moment on, Dallas was “that kid” at church. You know the one—the child that all the Sunday school teachers warn the other leaders about. “Oh, Dallas is going to be in your class next year—he’s a handful.” My son was labeled.

The truth was, Dallas loved his teachers at church and he wanted to please them. Their expectations, however, were low. My son respected these people and his performance reflected their expectations.

Several years ago I sat across a tiny table at a Starbucks from a woman I loved and respected very much. I’d requested the meeting with Rhonda as our relationship was broken and I desired healing and wholeness. For the better part of an hour she spewed her accusations and venom at me. “You’re weak. You’re jealous. You’re not that good a friend.” Her reasons were flimsy at best, but the bottom line was – she’d labeled me and she refused to see me as anything other than the person she decided I was.

During Dale’s message on Sunday he held up signs with words written in big black letters—labels we put on people. Democrat. Liberal. Republican. Pro-choice. Pro-life. Homosexual. We practically stamp words on the forehead of people the very moment we meet them. Let’s try something new; let’s see people as God sees them—a target of HIS love and HIS grace.

Back at that Starbucks after Rhonda stamped me with all her labels I said, “If you saw me in that way, why didn’t you say something? I mean, I was your friend.” That’s when she said, “You were never that good a friend.” I replied, “I’m more—I’m a part of the family of God.” She said, “You just want to play the victim, and I won’t yield to your victim mentality.”

Isn’t it interesting how some Christians pick and choose what part of the scriptures they want to embrace? To their way of thinking it’s okay to use the Bible as a sword to stab and condemn others. But if you’re a Christian, you should also be willing to use the scriptures to sharpen you.

Desiring to be seen as a child of God does NOT make me a victim wannabe! I allowed myself to be influenced by the labels put on me by others. I did that because I loved and respected them and I trusted their friendship. I wrote this last week, and I’ll say it again, shame on me!

I AM a child of God and a target of His grace. THAT is the label I deserve. And by the way, that's the label my son deserves!

My "Dangerous Path"

For today's Wild Ride Wednesday, I want to remind myself, and you, that it's okay to ask "why?"

“Randall used to say when you turn 50 you’re closer to the final curtain than the overture. But I think there’s still time to learn whatever it is I’m supposed to learn.” - Dinah Grayson, The Dixie Swim Club

Dinah Grayson is the character I’m playing in the upcoming Second Space production, The Dixie Swim Club. I myself am closer to 50 than to 40, and like Dinah, I believe there’s still time for me to learn. But first, I need to learn to BELIEVE the things I’ve already LEARNED! Why is that so hard to do?

It’s been several years now since a pastor told me I was on a “dangerous path”. One day Pastor H’s assistant, Pastor B, called me at home. He said, “Liz, you’re on a dangerous path, and I believe if you don’t get off you’ll end up in a bad place.” He and his wife were very dear friends and I had no reason to doubt he had my best interest at heart.

And what was this “dangerous path” I was on? Was I breaking a commandment—stealing, cheating, or lying? Nope, I had done something worse; I dared to ask “why?”

Pastor B told me (effectively) that I should never question pastors, as God Himself put the spiritual leaders in authority over me. Um…isn’t that exactly how priests justified abusing and taking advantage of kids?

You see, Pastor H fired me and then refused to tell me why. He removed me from the ministry I helped start and wouldn’t tell me what led to that decision. He kept saying, “I’m in charge, and you can’t put me in a box.” I’d poured my heart, talent, and time into building the ministry, and now I was arbitrarily being removed. Adding insult to injury, I was being reprimanded for asking “why?”

Pastor B gave three examples of my disrespect for Godly authority. He credited me with saying something about a pastor that another member of my family had said. In fact, I reminded him, I had DEFENDED the pastor. “Oh yeah”, he said. “Well…” he went on. “You challenged the children’s pastor after he chastised Drew.”

What? How did he know that? Yes, Tom and I were very disturbed about an encounter between the children’s pastor and our second son Drew. We confronted the leader, but never ever spoke to anyone else about it. Two weeks after the incident, the pastor took time out of his family vacation to call us—he was crying. He told me he’d been going through a tough time and he took it out on our son. He asked Tom and I to forgive him—which we did—and the incident was over. Apparently, however, he had asked for Pastor B’s advice before he called us, but never told him about his contrite phone call. Now the encounter was being used against me! Unbelievable.

The third “proof” of my dangerous-path-traveling was my daring to question my firing. I was just supposed to be quiet and accept Pastor H’s decision regardless of how my life was being affected.

It would be many weeks before Tom and I were finally allowed to sit with Pastor H to hear him explain his decision. He accused me of saying things I didn’t say and thinking things I never thought. When I stood up for myself, he called me a liar.

It is ALWAYS okay to ask “why?” I learned that truth when I was a child, and I gave permission to my own kids to do the same. But I’m not sure I really believed it until now that I’m almost 50. It’s my life and it’s okay to ask why!

You are allowed, by the way, to answer a “why” question with, “because I said so”, or “because I’m in charge”. That answer might not sit well with me, but you have the right to say anything you want.

Accusing me of saying something I never said is not cool. I have no idea what motivated Pastor H and Pastor B to do what they did. What I DO know, is that I spent way too many years doubting myself and believing their lies about me. Shame on me!

I bought a license plate frame that says, “I’ve got an opinion, and I’m not afraid to use it.” I am a smart, talented, and good person. I’ve worked hard to build a reputation as a hard working, respectful person, and I have an opinion. I never asked anyone to agree with me.

When the decisions and choices of other people affect my life, I have the right to ask “why”. So do you! Lesson learned.