Honor Your Story

My husband and me on our wedding day.

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair;persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.” 2 Corinthians 4:8-10 NIV

Talk about a caregiver! Paul went to all and any length to bring the Good News to the suffering everywhere. Even though the Holy Spirit was with him, challenges and even Satan were tormenting him. Of course, our Savior, did this too.

I have tears as I’m writing this. That’s okay. They’re healing. Tears sparkle. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to remember someone we deeply loved. Feel the feelings. The anniversary of my husband’s death is this month.

We were deeply in love. We planned, in our 40’s, to move to rural Idaho because our kids were grown and doing well and we wanted to retire with high-desert, mountains, blue rivers as our playground. My husband was an amateur photographer, though quite good. Brian started a rock band in high school, studied and received a degree in music. He could play woodwind, brass, piano along with a beautiful baritone voice. Brian taught music at our little rural school. Football games and basketball games, he and the kids rocked!

We moved to a humble home in the country and gained two horses, two dogs, three cats and even more joy with our kids and grandkids.

One Valentine’s Day at work, I watched my colleagues receive beautiful sweet-smelling bouquets of roses and flowers. Me? Nothing. Then towards the end of the day, here comes my hubby with a smile on his face and a five-gallon rose bush. I was devastated! Seriously? A rosebush in a bucket? Where’s my bouquet? My husband saw the disappointed look on my face and said, “I want you to have roses every day, not just for a few days.”  I still have that clove-scented rose bush which flowers almost every day, spring through autumn. Bittersweet.

Then the diagnosis… “Parkinson’s,” they said, because Brian’s walking was a tumbling forward as if he couldn’t catch up with himself. Stiff. Sometimes painful. No tremors. We were relieved because it wasn’t terminal. It was manageable with medication. Our plans for retirement were still to be realized. I could help with the driving, camera equipment and be the main bread-winner. We had hope. We had love. I didn’t drink. Maybe some wine with friends or family on occasion.

Then Brian displayed anxiety, depression, saying inappropriate things at work (and fired), walking getting worse with paralyzing freezes at the grocery store, falls, pain from contracted muscles. Trips to the emergency room for panic attacks and falls. One zero-degree night, he ran out into the yard ripping off his clothes because he could not breathe. He could, but panic attacks feel like that. I could not sleep. On alert. I drank.

Then he fell… heart-thumping crash in the kitchen. Head wound bleeding profusely. “I need help,” he was sobbing. “Please don’t call the ambulance! Please. I want to stay home, our home.” I cleaned his wound, steri-strips, got him to sleep and then I drank. Would others think he was abused? He looked so weak and beaten. Then I drank. Lots.

Then I called Idaho Home Health and Hospice… The next day with a mother of a hangover. A healthcare worker arrived who took one look at Brian’s wound and foggy confusion. An ambulance was called.I was tired. I was empty. Frazzled. PTSD-like. Frightened. Brian started having delusions right then. Started taking off his clothes. His speech unintelligible. The dog was licking his head furiously trying to fix the unfixable as the ambulance was en route. After the ambulance left, I guzzled more booze. Lots. His daughter witnessed all of this with amazing acceptance. She was covering the night shift so I could get some sleep. We cried. Embraced. Choked down more whiskey, believing the whiskey would soften, if not eliminate the nightmare. Brian would never walk through our front door again.

Then another diagnosis… Lewy Body Dementia. Neurologist and family doctor agreed. Some mental tests. “He can’t be home.” “Life-threatening tragedy” will happen to Brian or me. “You can’t provide 24/7 care. No one can.” Stopped at the liquor store on the way home and stocked up. Lots because it will be at least seven to eight thousand a month for care. That’s not counting medications, physical therapy, wheelchairs, specialists, and such.

Then I visited the care home… Almost every day. Brian lived there until hospice. Brian would yell my name and was not comforted by my presence. Other visions? No recognition. He became paralyzed and could not swallow much. I hand fed him gently wiping food and drool with crushing heartache. Where is dignity? Where is God? Where are my friends? The care workers had to lift him with a special lift to bathe him. Bedsores. Splints and casts for contractures. There was more. But…Then I drank when I got home. Lots. Whiskey and water. Saltwater. Tears that sparkle?

Then hospice… And I drank from a “hidden” bottle while comforting my husband. His head rolled back and forth from who knows what. Agitation? Thirst? Angels waiting? Drank waiting for courage to comfort his daughter too. His breathing was absent for a minute–deep, raggedy sighs and absent again. Gurgling. Is he still with us? I lay in bed with my husband a day before he died listening to his sporadic breathing and gently holding him, horrified by the mottled appearance of his legs, hands and ears. Active dying. I’ve seen it before. It was hard then, but this was my soul mate, the love of my life, our golden years. I was exhausted, in pain with anticipatory grief. Afraid as I watched the Healthcare Money Truck take most of our savings and retirement. Funeral plans. His clothes don’t fit him anymore. New ones? I’m still here. How do I go on? With what? For what? God, I’m ready to go too because I can’t do this anymore. Please, God, provide someone to care for the horses, dogs and cats. And then I drank. Lots and lots. Blackouts and pass outs would not come. Vomiting did. I’m still here.

Then he died… He was 66 years. Eighteen months after the real diagnosis. And I drank. Lots. At the funeral, at the community bar, at home, in the front yard watching the hummingbirds, in the shed with the horses. You could’ve set me on fire with one quick match. I drank during the holidays, wine with my bath, whiskey in my morning coffee. Never spilled a drop. Merry widow?

Then I isolated… No phone conversations. No community bar. No family. No holidays. Tons of chick flicks on TV. My new love. Whiskey.

Then I quit drinking… For four months or so. Then I resumed drinking for a couple of years. Slept in my husband’s shirt night after night sniffing the collar, trying to catch a tiny scent of my husband. Dog cuddled. Ate my tears. The visions of the suffering my husband endured always woke me. A shot to go back to sleep.

 Tried dating. Gave my horses to the local kids because I couldn’t quite afford them or take care of them any more. And I drank, bottle behind my back as the kids gleefully walked the horses to their new home. Every time the kids rode, they’d stop at my house showing me what they learned. One wrote me the most adorable thank you note with a picture of one of the horses on it. I still cherish it.

Then I quit drinking again. I sought spiritual quit lit like a starving person. I recommend Breathing Underwater, Richard Rohr; the Pastor and the Prayer; Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan Manning. All of these authors are Christian and struggled with addiction. Brennan Manning has passed but his words and grace soothe and give hope.  I visited grief counselors, BOOMrethinkthedrink.com, Celebrate Recover, prayed with begging or take-me-now prayers. But it’s very important to contact a professional, whether a pastor, counselor, or a trustworthy person who has been a caregiver. And lost. Addiction with grief needs extra special care. I pray my story encourages and comforts.

Then transcendence… During my reading one night, a word jumped out at me: Transcend: a: to rise above or go beyond the limits of b: to triumph over the negative or restrictive aspects of: overcome. Definition from Merriam-Webster Dictionary. I can do this with the help of God and others. I am doing this even though my heart and mind haven’t got the memo.  I can transcend.

I have been transcending since September 13, 2020, one day at a time. Grieved the past while using it to help others by writing a devotional for dementia caregivers, blogging with dementia caregivers, writing articles about dementia caregiving (one comes out in May).  And I’ve had my butt handed to me on many occasions. Brene Brown, in her book the Gifts of Imperfection, says sharing vulnerability is quite the risk! Even a grieving widow has her butt handed to her with a bow on top! Some won’t understand. Some won’t like you. Some will ignore you. Some will gossip. Some will try to use you. Telemarketers anyone? Yeah! Let’s add that to the drinking, financial woes, and grieving. I’ll just put a bow on top and call it a gift. A crappy gift! A hurtful gift! Judgmental gift! Watch me use it for my growth and others’ growth. Transcend.

Met a fellow who was widowed too, and we help each other, care for each other, love each other and our kids. Listen, really listen to each other’s stories. Vulnerability.

Grieve the past but live in the present. Grace helps tremendously. Our motto. That was then. This is now. Another motto of ours. Now is very different than my past life, but it is just as fulfilling. Promise. Hope. Peace. Joy. And sober. Transcend.

I give myself permission to cry when anniversaries of loss come, after all, tears sparkle. I forgave myself for my survival mode drinking. “Who wouldn’t be in survival mode?” A veteran with PTSD gave me that gift. When I allow myself to cry and feel my feelings, a new insight, treasure, gift comes into my life, sometimes quickly and sometimes agonizingly slow.

 A rich, full life has pain, challenges and lessons.  It also has joy, growth and love. Transcendence. It’s a journey. It’s a process. I have a place at Life’s table. Booze does not.

And I cried today. That’s okay. Something new will come. Tears sparkle. Tears clean the conscience. A gift.

I’ve told you one of my stories. Would love one of yours.

Author of Meditations and Encouragement for the Caregiver of a Loved One with Dementia

How Do You Do Life?

“Be not anxious for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than the food, and the body than the raiment? Behold the birds of the heaven, that they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are not ye of much more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit unto the measure of his life? And why are ye anxious concerning raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” Matthew 6:25-28 KJV

“Sorrow looks back, worry looks around, faith looks up.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

Yes, I’m one of those people. I believe in God, I have faith, I know Jesus died for me, grace is mine. Understanding does not mean I’m at peace.  Grace does not mean I’m not tempted. Belief did not replace my worry. Grief wrestles me to the ground. Knowing Jesus died for me doesn’t mean I’m thrilled to take risks. I believe but my actions say differently. What do your actions say about you?

Acting even when the feelings are scary, risky, demanding is faith. Courage is not the absence of fear but action even when fearful. Do not fear, do not be afraid is written 365 times in the Bible. It must be important. It must be true. And yet… I doubt. Big time.

Waking up from a nightmare of monsters, witches, vicious animals, falling from a cliff and being naked in front of the world are common and frightful dreams for young and old. Yet, comfort comes from a partner, friend, parent, spouse with a hug and assurance, “Do not be afraid. I am with you.” They may shine a light in the dark corners, under the bed, through a window to reassure. Light. And the darkness does not comprehend it.

God is with us. Immanuel means God is with us. Do not be afraid.

Musings

From what people think of us to an unexpected diagnosis, from worrying over a child to how to pay the bills, from the world’s turmoil to my beloved country’s major problems, I am instructed to not be anxious. Do not be afraid. I am with you. I have overcome the world. Neither death nor anything can separate me from the love of God. And when I fall into fear, there’s grace and everlasting arms to rescue. Not as the world rescues.

Prayer

Father, thank you that I do not have to be anxious or afraid, but I still do fear at times. This world frightens me every day. You made me with feelings and sometimes fear overtakes me. Remind me in the middle of my storm that I can be like Peter was in his storm at sea, “Lord, help me.” You reach out. You take my hand.

Amen.

Who Do You Think Your Are?

“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.” 1 Peter 2:9 NIV

“If you’re always trying to be normal, you’ll never know how amazing you can be.” Maya Angelou

Really, who do you think you are? We Black Sheep, Scapegoats and other nefarious types shudder when asked that question. Answers like: “The family problem.” “Loser.” “Alcoholic.” “Addict.” And more, which have corrupted our true identity with and in God. But no more!

Sometimes when asked this question, I respond, “Mom, widow, writer, marketing person, manager, animal-lover.” Mostly, they’re things that I do. Not who I am. How do you respond?

When I became a Christian, I inherited so much more– a richer identity immediately, though hard to grasp. We are God’s special possession. Normal we ain’t. But our new normal is so, so much better! And not for just the afterlife, but for now! Answering who do I think I am by saying, “A royal priest, God’s special possession” does not cut it and may have me ending up in a mental health clinic, even though it’s true. God has taught me and continues to demonstrate my identity with the Spirit’s tools such as:  love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. He brings things to remembrance. No matter my career, role as a parent or volunteer work, if I don’t have and share the evidence, tools of the Spirit, I am nothing. And the funny thing is the more I use these tools, the more it comes back to me. The reward is peace and joy. We have Divine Participation.

Musings

No matter how young or old, no matter our career or none, no matter if we have family, no matter our status, habits, possessions, or money, I am and you are royalty, God’s special possession. We’re included! If I being a human treasure my special possessions, how much more care does God give? Oh yeah, He gave us his Son. We are in a Divine Partnership.

Prayer

Thank you, Father for cherishing me, making me your special possession. With grace, I will scatter love, joy, peace patience and more when asked, “Who do you think you are?”

Amen.

Childlike

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, this person is a new creation; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come.” 2 Corinthians 5:17 NASB

“The Christian does not think God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because He loves us.”
― C.S. Lewis

Christianity, if I’m gentle, open and patient with myself, is not deprivation, though it can feel like that. There’s so much out there about sacrifice, giving, denying oneself, going above and beyond. This happens, true enough, but it’s because we’re spurred on to good works because of God’s love for us. When I become harsh with myself. God’s not doing that. I am. I’m practicing a works-based faith. I’m not letting God work through me. Many times a day I fall into this trap. Oh, Babs, you’re not doing enough, tithing enough, giving enough, loving enough. You? Paul so emphatically said: “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” I think we are set free to do good works for ourselves and others. But first we need to deconstruct our old ideas of what Christianity truly is.

Christianity is deconstructing shame, perfectionism, judgmental-ism. It’s sweeping away critical voices, legalistic voices, especially the abusive ones. No more naval gazing. It’s throwing out destructive and unrealistic comparisons. And it’s painful. We cling to these old images because, at least, they’re familiar. God does not define us by this. We do. And it’s very destructive. It’s not good fruit. His Son stepped in and removed our shame, whether we realize this in our soul or not. He said he’d never leave us. He calls us beloved. This motivates us to change, an upward calling, rather than suppressing and living in old images, thoughts and ideas of ourselves


God kicks out love denied. He covers us with his feathers. Everyone wants and needs love. The Great I Am designed us to give and receive love. It is never found by our old ways, our human efforts. Slowly and painfully, the decision to move toward something better or run away happens, sometimes many times a day. Let’s move toward our Father.

We are children of God, that’s who we are. His children. Children are curious, playful, honest and vulnerable.  God knows this since he made us. Remember, we become like little children to enter the Kingdom of God. I don’t know about you but becoming like little children really resonates with me. The nighttime sky. A rambunctious and loving pet. Swimming in a stream. Riding a bike. Homemade ice cream. Fireworks.  An uplifting Bible story. We have a new image. A new creature. Children. What a blessing!


May you love yourself by celebrating this new creation. May you love yourself as a child, especially when dealing with a mistake or heartache. How do you treat a child in a difficult circumstance? You soothe, nurture, comfort, LISTEN, guide and embrace. Patience IS a virtue.

Musings

Who am I to believe? Society? Others? Politicians? Or God who said new things have come. Past tense. I’m new. I’m a beloved child. He’s my heavenly Father. You are too.

Prayer

Father, thank you that we are wonderfully made. We are new creations with freedom to move, breathe and have our being (Acts 17:28). Help me to dwell in this marvelous newness. Revel in our childlikeness. Help us to see your will being placed into this complicated and evil world. Nothing is too small or insignificant. Help me to celebrate being a child, your child.

Amen.

Perfection? NOT!

“Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” Matthew 5:48 NIV

“Progress not perfection.” AA slogan


The above quotes are head-scratching, aren’t they? If you’re a recovering Black Sheep, Scapegoat, ne’er do well, you’re finished before you ever start. I’m a C+ student at best in an A+ faith. There are many more knowledgeable than I, who have stated that “perfect” in Jesus’ statements and others throughout the New Testament actually translates into “whole” or “complete.” I’m no theologian, but even being complete or whole is beyond my grasp, beyond my understanding. A good day teases me into believing otherwise. Someone does it for me.

I had a major computer problem from a Windows update that destroyed my photos, articles, books and other items. I felt erased by an unknown gremlin. It cost me to restore my computer and heartbreakingly, some of my things are gone permanently. Lesson learned. Make sure, Babs, to have an external hard drive and save, save, save. Each day that I start again, it’s done with a heavy heart.

Even more devastating are imperfect people who’ve crashed you, crushed you, criticized you.   How to save and restore? Perfection. There’s Only One Who’s Perfect–Wonderful Counselor. Dare I say Programmer?  Code professional? He made us. He is there to restore what the Thief has robbed and threatened to kill. We can be whole, complete and grateful because of the Perfect One. Even more good news, he works within us and makes us an example of his grace and love, if we let him.

Musings

Bad times come. Bad situations. Frustrations. Unfairness to the max happens. Inside I want to scream, throw out, stomp my feet, and rage, especially at those that have been hurtful, abusive, gossipy. Human nature.

I’m to be perfect. Complete. Whole. That’s spiritual nature made possible by God’s grace and love. There’s no other way. He is the Way, Truth and the Life.

Prayer

Father, help me to see that I’m perfect because of my trust in your Son. Help me to partner with you to be whole and complete, especially when I don’t understand. I don’t understand most of the time. You know this. You are patient.

You created the heavens and the Earth, but the greatest of your creation is Jesus. The keeper and encourager of our souls. Thank you.

Amen

The Committee (in our heads)

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD.” Isaiah 55:8 NIV

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” C.G. Jung

In my head is a committee. No, not a mental disorder or hallucinations, but voices. They say things like: “You’re such an idiot.” “You’ll never amount to anything.” “Yes, those pants do make your butt look big.” “You’ll never be enough.” You’re a failure.” “You’re such a loser.” “What were you thinking?” “You’re just a drunk!” “You’re too old.” And these voices can get really, really mean! Yours? They can ruin my life, if I let them. They can become self-fulfilling.

Here are the Committee Members: Critical parent, demanding boss, judgmental church member, passive-aggressive colleague, bullying friend. Gosh! there have been more. And you know what? I fired them! No, not all at once, but as I became aware, with God’s help, of these voices, they no longer had room in my head. They were replaced with God’s thoughts. God helped me to see and question these voices with thoughts like: “You’re the light of the world.” “You are precious in my sight.” “I sing over you.” (Zephaniah 3:17} He holds my hand. (Isaiah 41:13) Slowly, yet gently, those critical voices are silenced by my relationship with Jesus. Something wonderful moves in.

Musings

Let’s question those dismissive, lying and destructive voices we have carried from childhood into adulthood. Let’s release them to God and search for the real image he has for us. If we need help with this, let’s seek it. Let’s encourage each other and build each other up. (1 Thessalonians 5:11) An old hair color ad said, “Because we’re worth it!” More importantly, God says we are worth it. He sent his Son.

Prayer

Father, thank you for making us as we are with gifts, talents and love. Help us to see ourselves as you see us. Help us to let go of old and destructive images of ourselves. Help us to have your voice in our heads and hearts. Help us to let go of things that hurt us. Help us to hold on to you tightly.

Amen.

Small Wins

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13 ESV

“I can’t tolerate failure and I can’t stand success.” Yours truly and many others.

Yay! I don’t do anything by myself! I have a partner in this life journey who gives me strength for the good and the bad. Good things can be stressful such as a new baby, a new home, a work raise with more responsibility, starting college, as well as the negative. We dwell on the negative because people, society, media, online find attention, ratings and money in it. We “buy” it. The correct clothes, car, investments and blah, blah, blah. It does nothing to build our true selves. It’s a blip of happiness, perhaps.

Our faults, from biting our fingernails to overcoming shame, abuse, addictions are not done in a vacuum. I have a heavenly Father. An unseen partner, who dwells inside me and gives me strength. He provides others to teach, counsel and encourage. He also gives me awareness. I can’t change if I’m not aware. It’s not a judgmental thing or condemning thing. It’s a gentle yet firm voice. Let’s do this together.

 Overcoming a small, bad habit like gossip, isn’t a one-and-done thing. Grace is necessary, practice is necessary, thank God, He pours grace on us, as we stumble to replace gossip, for example, with an open heart. Something always comes along to replace my frailties, foibles and sin. Even something as mundane as biting my nails was overcome with knitting to keep those darn hands busy while asking God for strength. I rewarded myself with pretty nail polish and sparkly rings. It’s okay to celebrate victories, no matter how small, too.

Sometimes we have bigger, much bigger problems, like addictions, trauma, abuse that need attention and healing. God sends his strength through his Holy Spirit, support groups, counselors, His Word, books and trusted friends. It can be humbling to ask for help. Humbling develops character and compassion for ourselves and others on our journey. We dig deep. Sometimes take a break. God waits.

Musings

Asking for help is actually a very valued strength. It’s valued in the Word. Jesus described himself: “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  If it’s not gentle and humble, whose voice is it?  May our hearts be the same toward ourselves and others. Gentle. Humble. Open.

Prayer

Father, thank you for your strength that I may overcome. Help me to be a strength for myself and others with humble, gentle and open heart. Thank you for grace when I stumble. Thank you for grace and wisdom to try again and again and again. Thank you for your patience.

Amen.

Gift or the Giver?

 “Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” John 4:10 NIV

“What you are is God’s gift to you, what you become is your gift to God.”
― Hans Urs von Balthasar

I think about my grandma almost every day, even though she’s been gone from this world for over 30 years. Why? She demonstrated what a giver is. Not yap, yap, yap. She modeled it. Every day. She was generous with birthday and Christmas gifts, which were always designed just for me or my sisters. She scraped, saved, used coupons and other sales incentives all year long to give the best gifts. I hope I am a bit like her. The real kicker is that when she would come to our house or we’d go to hers, shopping, watching TV or playing cards, it was just as meaningful as any holiday gift just to be with her. Her gift was unconditional love with hugs, a positive comment or a gentle lesson. Her cooking and baking were pretty award-winning too! I still love her, look up to her, try to love as she loved to this day. Her legacy: love.

Jesus demonstrates love and gift-giving perfectly. You know the adage: Christ loved you so much he stretched his arms this wide for you. Of course, it’s another image of Christ on the Cross. His gift of love and forgiveness along with counsel, are ours every day. What we do with it, that’s our gift to God.

Musings

The times I’ve asked, manipulated, begged for answer to prayer seemed to go unanswered. Perhaps it’s the lesson: Do I love the gift or the giver? When I reflect on this, God has already given me more than I could ask for. What is my gift to him? What is your gift to him? That prayer is always answered.

Prayer

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.                                                                                                                                                   St. Francis

Preaching AT Your Feelings

“For whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything.” 1 John 3:20

“Everyone either has a problem, is a problem or lives with a problem.” Sam Shoemaker

Sigh… I don’t know about you, but when I have bad feelings about a person, situation or even myself, I tend to try and “positive think” my way to feeling better. That’ll fix me, the other or the situation! NOT! Do you feel grateful all the time? Do you feel belonging all the time? Do you feel joy all the time? Do you struggle with grief? Do you struggle with fear? So many feelings and not all feel good. Today, I’m struggling with Good Enough because I have a tendency to compare my work, walk, circumstances with others. Guess what? I always lose when I compare.

Speaking of losing… When I compare myself to my Savior, I lose. God is greater than my heart. He knows everything. These feelings are to be laid out before my Father. I get to “come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:16 NKJV

Musings

There is help when I’m frustrated with my feelings or any other trouble. He knows all about me anyway, so I’m laying it all out. Not for my Father’s benefit, but for mine. I obtain help, wisdom and grace from the greatest Counselor, instead of fighting the feelings.

Prayer

Thank you, Father, for even my feelings of fear, judgment, anxiety, failure and many more. My feelings are a clue to what needs attention. You accept me, like the hymn, Just as I Am. Even celebrities like Willie Nelson, Alan Jackson, even Air Supply sung these words:

Just as I am, though tossed about
With many a conflict, many a doubt;
Fighting within, and fears without,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

I come.

Amen.

SHAME

“When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” Matthew 9:36

“Life is difficult. This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it.” M. Scott Peck, The Road Less Traveled.

Transcend: a: to rise above or go beyond the limits of b: to triumph over the negative or restrictive aspects of: overcome. Definition from Merriam-Webster Dictionary.

The challenge of our Black Sheepness is that it’s not one-and-done. We may slip into destructive behaviors again and again and again. There are days where we are harassed and helpless, especially days where we can’t see our good. Maybe that’s when it’s time for compassion—self-compassion. We have slipped into behaviors that we don’t like. Behaviors that don’t define us. Then the critical voices shout, “you’re no good! See?” “What a loser!” “I knew you’d relapse!”

I quit drinking after my husband’s death. It was very difficult. I wanted to isolate, which is always a red flag. I hated going out and seeing couples. I hated seeing couples that were traveling in their retirement years. Family reunions with couples and more couples flashing photos of their wonderful life. Couples in RVs. Couples camping, dancing, dinner out, not to mention holidays with the carols, food, twinkling lights and celebration.

Widowhood is a dark and lonely place for so many reasons and numbing it with whiskey was so tempting. I hated myself when grocery shopping and that awful store music would have me crying like a newborn. Someone cuts me off in traffic and I take it personally by fretting, shaking, yes, and crying.

I quit drinking. Started new behaviors. I exercised, met with like-minded sober people, went to lunch with fellow widows. Oh yes, church too. Then a blizzard came. It roared around my house. The power went out. It was out for 11 hours. When the roads were clear, I drove into town with my faithful dog, bought whiskey and dog treats, came home, under the covers in my bedroom with dog and drank. Lots. The next day I was hungover and full of shame. So, bought more whiskey and drank some more. Lots. What did I learn from this? How about some self-compassion? I made a mistake. I was still grieving. Still recovering from trauma of my husband’s disease. I was “harassed and helpless without a shepherd.” But self-recrimination never accomplishes anything good or worthwhile. I made a mistake. What a whopper of a mistake, for sure!  What was at the bottom of all of this? SHAME. Shame for still grieving. Shame I couldn’t do it all. Shame that I was envious of couples who still had a lovely life. Shame that I was so frightened during a blizzard and no power. Shame that I was helpless. Shame I was alive.

If I were self-compassionate, I would have understood the source of my shame. No, not widowhood. Not even relapsing. Not even guilt. It was shame that was imprinted in me from a very young age and continued throughout my life. Shame that screams at Black Sheep that you are wrong, you’re no good, worthless. Shame that proves all of this. Even in grief, shame is entangled.

I took this to my Father. He showed compassion toward me, which allowed me to have compassion for myself.

Musings

If you’ve had a major setback, take it to your Father. Ask him to show you compassion. Let him pour his grace on you. This opens the heart to forgive yourself and to start over. Starting over is Big.  We do it over and over in life. It’s how many times you get back up that builds character. Life is difficult.

Search through the Bible stories of some of the greats that had whopper mistakes. God worked through them. He will through you too. Life was difficult for them too.

Prayer

Thank you, Father, for this relapse. This mistake. This setback. Lapse in judgment. Thank you for your compassion and grace that makes me whole and ready to start again. Show me how this mistake, no matter how large, can be used by you. Your Word says: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28. In partnership, let’s use this for good.

Amen