As I’m lying in the dark last night, a couple of thoughts connected.
My Dad is ashamed of my Mom. He has been for as long as I can remember. On the way to drop me off – I’m in the back seat, they’re in the front. (paging Dr. Freud…Dr. Freud please report to Dan’s Id…).
We stopped at the ferry toll booth and just before we pull away, my Mom leans waaaay over to tell the attendant with a smile and a great flourish that, “the prices sure have changed since the last time she was on a ferry – 35 years ago!” (we had just been talking about how long it had been since she was on a ferry and we guessed it had been 25 years – but 35 years sounds more impressive to Mom.)
Anyway – my Dad actually holds his hand up in front of her face and pushes her back (not physically… just with a gesture like brushing away a fly) impatiently nodding, saying, “o.k., o.k., o.k…” and pulling away from the booth.
I’m a lot like her. And he’s ashamed of her.
He treats her badly. She can be very annoying at times. But no one deserves that.
I’ve never really defended her. Never defended Claire, Tess or our baby. I used Tammy, Dana, and those who comprise the handful of other women I’ve “known”….
“handful”. How noble is that?
Jesus, I need you to sort this out; where is the broken part of my heart? Is it all that? I don’t know where to begin.
It seems to settle around shame and disappointment.
The broken part of my heart is ashamed of what it is and is convinced that it is a disappointment.
“Appoint” To give status to. To enlist one in an office or a role.
Interesting. Who gets dis-appointed by whom?
Read chapters 2 and 3 of 1Peter – very interesting in the “Message” version. Doing things God’s way BECAUSE it hurts…hmm.
A couple of interesting things occurred to me on the trail today.
I found that as I walked, I began getting impatient again. It’s like life itself wanted to accelerate, and so, somehow – I managed to get my cadence off – from the normal easy waltz of, “Thank you, Lord” that I’d been singing in my head for the last two days (which has served me VERY well…Thank you, Lord) to the version that goes more like the “Beer Barrel Polka”…and I didn’t notice it. In fact I very consciously reckoned I had slowed the song down for the first part of the day. Why did I think that? Cause I wasn’t getting where I wanted to go fast enough!
Without noticing it, for a couple of hours, I went from “just walking” to “trying to get somewhere” again.
Rushing. Wanting to succeed.
Of course during that time, I thought about work! Was Satan trying to get at me?
Anyway, I was really pushing to get to Chicago Camp and it seemed to take FOREVER, even though I realized I was probably moving faster. Then I slowed to my “Thank you” pace (which was SO HARD to do)…and BOOM – there I was: Chicago Camp.
The other thought was this:
Three days IN to the wilderness – three days into something. There is that reverent and mysterious length of time that God seems to favor for so many things.
Well – tomorrow is “after three days and nights.” What will God write next?
I hope He gives me a name.
Wow – a “memory” just hit me HARD – my Dad’s teaching was always Independence. Do-it-yourself. The whole move to Stanwood was about self-sufficiency. That’s not me. I don’t do stuff alone. Therefore, every loan, every help, the down-payment for our house, were failures in my broken heart.
I failed Dad in that way. Failed Mom each time I stepped outside the role of “Beaver Cleaver: The perfect middle-class child”.
Here comes another! Why is it hard for me to encourage?! Especially Brenda?
…Satan trying to get me to do his dirty work…but also me, trying to hold on to approval, because I believe there is only so much of it to go around…like fruit cakes. (there are only three fruit cakes, you know. But encouragement is a fruit cake that people WANT to keep)
What brought this to mind was how I imagined Allen praising John Eldredge…how Allen praises me. He gives it away so freely. I do not.
My true heart can see the good and encourageAble things in others…I see them all the time. But my BROKEN heart gags the true heart; keeps it quiet – or replaces the things I saw with cruel judgments.
My true heart is more like my daughter’s…encouraging and brave.