Lessons of Obedience, Part 2

Last year, my husband and I made some huge decisions and took some huge steps of faith. Revisiting my post on obedience has made me realize just how much God has done this past year.

I still have that same sense of "I got this" from God and my usual pattern of worry or over planning has been replaced by a sense of calm that I can only say is miraculous. I have had moments when the panic begins to set in, but the voice reminding me "I got this" is so much stronger than my fear. When I look back, I can truly see that yes, God did have this, and then some!

Our first huge decision was for me to quit my job. We thought for sure I would need to work part time to make up the gap we would need to meet our financial obligations. Although I looked and was not picky, I just could not find something that would work around my internship hours. And as the months went by, we realized that we were making all of our bills and I did not need to work. Yes, we tightened our belts and have done without a lot of extras this past year, but I had the freedom to concentrate completely on my last year of grad school and my internships. The money has somehow always been there. One of the areas I struggle in trusting God with is my finances. I have some hurts in that area from poor leadership in the past. God is showing me that even there, he cares for us deeply and he has met all of our needs.

Trying to describe my internship and how I feel God has met me there seems impossible. On the practical side, I know that God put me where I am and I could not be more blessed. In my grad school cohort, I hear stories that let me know that I have a great site with amazing support. I am reminded several times per week of how good I have it there. Yesterday I had a situation where I needed help and that help was provided instantly. The vast difference between my site and the last eight years of my professional life became crystal clear. The contrast absolutely floors me. I have seen just how dysfunctional organizations can be and by contrast, how healthy they can be. I have been treated as a professional from the beginning. My ideas have been asked for and appreciated. I have received support from every person at my internship site. I feel valued and that has been communicated to me on numerous occasions. I've been allowed to make mistakes, been constructively criticized, and helped to figure out a better way to approach something. I've been supported when sick or just exhausted. I've not only been allowed, but encouraged to use my gifts and talents. The difference this support has had on my professional life has opened my eyes to new possibilities and a new found ability to use my voice. That change has come across in my personal life in such a way that others see the difference. I am amazed at the changes God is making in me and I can see his hand all along the way.

Just like my course work has brought about growth around my childhood; internship has also had a hand in bringing about change. I have been faced with some giants that I could have never imagined. New memories have rocked my world and through my obedience to God's voice, my world has been completely and forever changed. Shortly after beginning at my site, I had a new memory surface that crushed me. I heard God asking me to bring my husband and several key support people into the healing process. That step of obedience was probably the most frightening thing I have ever done. But because God had been building trust in me, I was able to take that step. Although walking through that memory was one of the most difficult things I have ever done - listening to God changed everything. I could not have imagined where that step of trust would take my marriage, my friendships, or my thoughts about myself. God met me there in ways I could not have envisioned. I was protected from my own memories while at work and I was able to focus on my clients and their stories. My experiences have allowed me to have compassion for my clients. I think more importantly, my experiences have allowed me to have hope for my clients. I hold it carefully for them and provide them with glimpses of what can be. I remind them that I will hold their hope until they can hold it themselves. And I can see the changes... I can see the tiniest bit of hope where there was none. I can see the trust given and the courage it takes it share and I remind my clients that I value the trust they place in my hands, that I value who they are, that I am honored that we get to share the road for a part of their journey. I have been able to share with my team some of my faith story and how it impacts my ability to counsel others. I've seen resistance to my professed faith fade and I've seen respect grow. And although I have not shared my story with those at my site, I have been able to share where I've been triggered and my process in session of dealing with my own stuff. I've learned to have dual processes and I've learned that I can process the emotional impact without sharing the details because that isn't important in that setting.

As this grad school journey comes to a close and wraps up, I am sometimes speechless at all that has happened; the growth, the changed relationships, the changed perspective. Just like my last post on obedience, I'm not sure where this journey will take me. I do know that God is still whispering "I got this" and that is more than enough.

 

krt/05-09-2013

I will bend, but I will not break

I'm in the middle of a journey that is taking everything I have right now. I'm more sensitive to things around me. Comments I hear, FB posts I read, an odor of cigarettes and whiskey wafting by me in the meat section of Costco, a glimpse of a memory - they all bring the prick of pain, the prick of remembering, the prick of loss to my heart. The tears come unbidden and refuse to stay put, even in front of strangers. And then there is the pity when I express a tiny bit of my story. And everything inside of me screams Do not pity me! I don't want pity. I'm stronger than that. What I will take is understanding of how hard this journey is. And compassion. But that's a tricky one because I often mistake compassion for pity. And pity just pisses me off and sends me into defense mode. I am learning not to let people's misguided words effect me so much. After all, how do you respond to something that is so counter to basic human decency? We don't have words for those kind of wounds. We don't often acknowledge those things - at least not out loud. We don't usually see a face full of tears and a heart full of sorrow attached to the words. We hear them on the TV and think, "Oh, that is awful." But when we come face to face with it - well, most people are at a loss of what to say and do. So I try to give them grace because they don't know better. And they are trying to show compassion. They just don't know how.

And in the midst of my pain, when the tears overflow and come unbidden because of a sight, a smell, a sound, I am reminded of how far I've come and of how strong I am. And I know that strength is not of my doing. Yesterday, doing homework on trauma and abuse and listening to my soundtrack playlist, the song "You Haven't Seen the Last of Me" by Cher came on. And the tears flowed. And I hit repeat too many times to count. And something that has been dormant rose to the top. And I remembered that I am braver than I believe, and stronger than I seem.

Pushed Beyond the Breaking Point

 

I've been pushed way past the point of breaking

pushed down to my knees and left for dead
buried under a mountain of memories
smothered under pillows and lies
barely able to breathe

But there is something strong inside of me

a spirit that claws her way up and out
clutching at the river bank as the flood water rushes over my head
nails pulled away and bloody
full of dirt and muck
but not defeated

I've been down this road before

I see the pain that obscures the path
and I know how it feels to be shoved face first in the dirt
I hear the laughter of my enemies as they gloat over my condition
thinking I'm helpless, that I'll give up
I may be down
but I'll get up again

It may take time to crawl on my belly

bloody and bruised beyond recognition
I may feel like giving up, giving in
When I think I can no longer stand, I will stand firm
in the knowledge that there is something strong in me
that has clawed her way out of this before

One time too many, many times I thought

this has got to be it, has to be all there is
Times when the memories flood over and turn the world black
pushed to the point of breaking, down to my knees
where the strong pushes back
a pinprick of light to follow
a hope I want to crush in my exhaustion
hope I don't trust
but it won't die, it won't let me give up

When the wounds are unseen

when the losses are not acknowledged
when the questions come hard and fast
when there is no answer to the whys that crash upon each other
when there is no reason for hope
it is paradoxically present

How do I stand my ground

when it shakes apart beneath my feet
when I am clutching nothing but air for a hand hold
what is it that searches to find an imperceptible rock to hold
where does the strength come from to get up once again

It is not anything that I did

it's something that has always been present
planted within my soul before I was fully formed
given because it was known that would be needed
needed to survive
needed to stand again

Looking back down that long road

I see the times I was pushed to my knees
I see the struggle with things unseen
and those who refused to see the gaping wounds
tried to keep me down
tried to discount, dismiss, deny

I may have been brought to my knees

I may have been pushed past the point of breaking
but I never stayed down because
I was built tough
built with a strength to withstand adversity

This girl will bend to the ground

but she will not break
because she is planted by the water
nurtured by the soils made rich by the flood waters
with roots that are nourished by hope and love and truth

And this girl will not be broken

she will use the pain to bring light to darkness
beauty from ashes
hope for the hopeless
peace in the storm
love to the unloved
she will turn tragedy into triumph

She will share her hope with those who have been

pushed way past the point of breaking

© krt / 1/20/2013

 

 

When Worlds Collide

The time slips by so quickly as the busyness of grad school and internship intersects with living life in the midst of everything that must be done. The months of having so much to say, but no time to say it are evident as I look at the date of the last post. So much has happened, so much to say, so very much learned, and so very much more yet to discover.

Words came unbidden last night. They fought for release in my disturbed dreams, denying deep and refreshing sleep. They rose to the surface at 4am and demanded full attention.

When Worlds Collide

 

I feel it coming, hanging in the air

seems like all directions point strait to it
I can almost smell it as it begins to surround me
damp, dark, dank
I want to ignore the onslaught, run far away
when worlds collide
 
I know what this pain means
how deep it penetrates
how overwhelming it feels
how hard it presses down
until I can barely breathe

To admit there is loss is to admit that there is no longer hope

to allow myself to feel the betrayal, the anger, the cacophony of emotion
it means giving up on a reality that should have existed... but never did
it means staring the truth in the face
letting go

And yet... it means so much more

acknowledging this means unlocking a door
opening the floodgates that are beginning to crumble under the weight
wondering if I will drown underneath of the loss that is so closely tied
tied to this pain of letting go of the one thing that hides so many others

The floodwaters destroy everything in their wake

where does that leave me
they reshape the landscape which becomes unrecognizable
what will I lose
they bury that which was exposed
they uncover that which was buried
the floodwaters bury and expose
with no thought of the devastation they leave behind
... behind the devastation, a seed spouts in the now fertile soil

The hope of the seed seems so very distant

and there is the turbulence of the floodwaters to consider
the sheer chaos of the power of the water
that tumbles, tears apart, and brings a tempest of emotion

As I work I can feel its presence

I put it aside, Not now, I'm busy.
But each time I compartmentalize, push it away
it becomes more persistent until it is everywhere I look
and I can no longer ignore the reality that is staring me down

Behind the paper thin separations

it lurks
And not caring that now is not the right time
it begins to leak

The separations between the compartments are fragile

and the despair is razor sharp
it cuts through the carefully constructed floodgates
as the torrent begins, the razor thin cut widens
the separation tears at the seams, rips wide open
years of loss will no longer be kept silent
when worlds collide

The emotional onslaught cannot be controlled

I am tossed in the waters of darkness, despair, denial, destruction, defeat
Sludge closes over my head, clogs my nose, presses against my chest with the weight
of years that have been held back

The years that have been held back hide much

the flood waters expose something long buried beneath the weight of the sludge
it is raw, naked, vulnerable, exposed
scoured by the powers of the turbulent tumbling waters

And you are asking me to no longer repair the leaks

push back or build stronger floodgates
You are asking me to not only let the water rip apart the separations
but to dive into the midst of the chaos
when I have barely crawled out from underneath the last onslaught
Knowing what I know... understanding the pain that awaits
with no resistance,  allowing myself to be carried where the current takes me

As I sit with one wounded

she pours out her story of darkness, despair, denial, destruction, defeat
of grief long buried, never dealt with
reality denied, tossed aside
thinly veiled separations beginning to leak
She looks at me with tears in her eyes,
a tenuous trust in the words that tumble unbidden from my mouth
I want you to look at your unresolved grief.
As I name each instance, shared over months
the look of terror grows
fear of facing the grief so strong we both feel it
pressing down on us in that room
a thick, cloying, decaying, putrid mess that must be cleaned to move forward
And I hear God whisper to my heart
Will you walk the same path?
When worlds collide

© krt / 1-12-13

A New Chapter

Safe... what does it mean? These are questions I struggle with while tears run silently down my face as I am once again ripped from sleep by nightmares that leave me feeling decidedly unsafe in my own bed.

I have been pondering some deep theological truths lately, in light of the journey God has had me on the past few years. This journey that has been filled with pain and joy, this journey that is leading toward trust. And as I lay in my bed pondering how it all somehow collides together into my life story, I am reminded of the song Lion, by Rebecca St. James. The song relates to The Chronicles of Narnia.  It talks about how Aslan is mysterious and Lucy is scared - wondering if he is safe. She realizes that although the lion Aslan is not safe, he is good. One line says "Wise eyes, you see the core of me." When I compare the journey God has asked me to take to Aslan and what he asks of those who follow him, I am left with the conclusion that what he asks is never safe. In fact, what he asks of his followers is full on risk. Following God may not be what the world considers safe; in fact it looks like folly. In the confusion and fear that followed the nightmare, as I lay pondering yet again what this new piece of the story will look like as it unfolds, I came to understand that although the journey is not safe, it is good.

When I stop to think about it, which I don't do often enough, I am amazed at how God is writing this story. The way that each chapter unfolds adds yet another layer and each chapter had to have the chapter before it in order to make sense. I could not possibly be taking the steps I am now without having gone through previous steps, without the trust that has been slowly building over the past several years as God has asked me to walk through some really hard things. But each step of the way, as unsafe and risky as it was, God met me there and he brought healing I did not know I needed. And so now, he requires more of me. He wishes to write a new chapter and it is called trust. Because I have trust issues. Deep seated trust issues. I have them with people that are barely known to me and those that are closest to me. And honestly, I have them with God. I question why, a lot. Even so, God is patient with me and lovingly shows me that he is trustworthy. Sometimes he shows me through other people, sometimes through his word, sometimes it's a book or a song or simply surrounding myself in nature. But God always shows me one more reason why I can trust him. You'd think that after all these years, when God asks me to do something, I would be able to trust blindly. But the wounds go to the core, where no one but God can see. He knows what it will take to heal those wounds and it is not safe.

Once again I find myself on the precipice of a new journey, as God continues his chapter on trust in my life. God has asked me to take a huge step of faith and forge a new path. He is asking me to once again, take the road less traveled by. And although I know that road has made all the difference, I am scared to my core. The one thing I feel I have learned the last several years is obedience. When I hear God asking me to do something, I still question, but I do it. So several weeks ago, I jumped straight through the door God wanted me to open and this new journey has already been fraught with risk and dare I say it, a total lack of control that I know will lead to a greater trust. Two weeks ago I was joined in prayer asking for the next step. It was crystal clear; as was the fact that I was to get no game plan, no nice outline of the chapter, but rather just the cliffhanger and the rest would be revealed as needed.  Despite my fears, yesterday I took that first step God asked of me. And it was hard. Harder than I feared in fact. But I was able to do it. Maybe because what God knows is that at my core, he built me with a strength that would see me through the pain of remembering. He built me with the strength of a survivor, knowing I would need to count on that strength time and time again. After I plunged over the precipice into the unknown, I was hit with the awesome fact that there were three people in that room with me who love me so much that they are willing to walk this chapter with me, and together we will see how it unfolds. There are no words to describe what that means to someone who has felt utterly alone in this journey. As I lay awake after the nightmare pondering all of these things, it is clear that God is leading me down a new path that will lead to a whole new kind of trust. Truly, I get tied up in knots when I think about trust, that kind of trust, the kind where I bare my soul to others. I'd rather keep it inside and hole myself away surrounded by only me, because then I am safe. But I know that is not true. Life is not safe, nor is the Christian journey. But it is good.

All of these thoughts would not be possible without the devotions I've been reading and without a book that I picked up several weeks ago. I've had the book since Christmas, but never even looked at it, which for me is strange. But God knew. He knew I needed those words at this time in order to help me ponder the deep meaning of trust and how that ties into the story he is writing. He knew I needed to save those words for such a time as this, to strengthen me for what he has asked of me. Because God is not simply asking for my trust —no, he wants much more than simple trust. God is asking me for intimacy, with him as well as those he has placed in my life. My thoughts are honestly, "You've got to be kidding, right?" But no, God is not kidding because truly, God knows what is at the core of me and he knows that what I lack in my life more than anything is true intimacy and all that it requires. Reading the words last night that lead me to that conclusion scared the heck out of me, but also left me with a sense of hope for what God is working in me. As I processed these thoughts, post nightmare, in the wee hours of the morning, I was reminded again of Narnia, The Last Battle, where Aslan keeps prodding the children to come further up and further in. This parallels what God is asking me to do, go further into my journey with him, delve deeper into the heart of trust, which will lead to intimacy.

So much of my life has been shaped by words. They have helped me to escape the pain of my own life by bringing me to other worlds. They have been my constant companion and my friend as I pour my own heart out through them. They have helped me express what I cannot possibly say out loud. Words, sentences, phrases, themes... they all run through my head in a thread that often makes no sense at the beginning, but somehow it unravels to reveal where the journey has taken me and where it will lead me. The words that rattle in my head as tears flow down my face lead to the knowledge that although the journey is not safe, it is good. They let me know that the trust and intimacy God is asking of me will build as I go further up and further in.

07/07/2012

PS - The book that has contributed to some of these thoughts is One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. I'm beginning a new journey, along with the one referenced above, due to the words in this book. I know that both journeys are inexorably intertwined and I'm sure that there will be a blog post in the future related to this book and the journey it has sparked.

Lessons of obedience

I've been waiting a long time to write this blog post - not sure why I've waited so long. I guess because I wanted to have all of the answers, be able to say "Yes, it's all done, and just look what God has done." But then I wondered, what am I waiting for? Why does the journey have to have an end or be all wrapped up in a pretty pink box as my friend would say. That is just my sense of wanting order or control speaking. The journey is not finished, but then it never is, right?

In 2008, sitting in church, I distinctively heard God whisper to me "Go back to school."  I actually looked to the side to see if my husband had said something to me, but quickly realized that it was God speaking. Honestly, my first reaction was "Are you crazy God? I already have my Masters, why would I go back to school?"  But it was a short lived reaction. By the time church was over and my husband and I were driving home, I was ready to explore the idea. So I told my non-believing husband that I heard God tell me to go back to school, anticipating any reaction besides the one I got - acceptance. Wanting to make sure that I wasn't just following my own desires - although I was pretty sure I wasn't - I sought out accountability from people who know me deeply. I asked them to pray for me as I tried to figure out God's will in this prompting.

Back track to my undergrad years, where the original intention was to seek my degree in secondary education/psychology. Sitting in my Psych 101 class, being confronted with my own Pavlovian conditioned response, I ran from psychology as hard as I could while I sought healing from the demons of my childhood. With that knowledge, I was fairly sure that God was leading me back to that original dream, which actually goes back to a 15 year old girl at camp, sharing her heart with another abuse survivor. After many discussions, prayers, and searching for the right program, I started my journey in the Mental Health Counseling Masters Program.

When I started, I only had what God told me, "Go back to school."  When I sought the answer for which direction I should go or what I would be doing, all I got was silence. If you know me at all, you know that is disconcerting to say the least. God created me to be a planner. I plan everything. I organize everything. I do not fly by the seat of my pants. I drive those around me crazy with my perpetual planning. I drive myself crazy as I often cannot live up to my self imposed deadlines or standards. And God was asking me to trust him blindly, that He would guide my next steps. Trust - a difficulty commodity for an abuse survivor. But I took those first steps of obedience, not knowing where they would lead.

At the time, I was teaching high school, working for a district that at the very least has some issues. I was miserable. I'd been happy as a teacher in AZ. I had a great set of administrators who lead by example. Obviously, there were things that drove me crazy, but overall, I had left the ideal job to move to NV, where it was not the same at all. I hated my job from the beginning. Everything seemed to be dishonest. There was little to no communication and leading by example simply did not happen. Over the course of my eight years in the district, I was always on the prowl for a new job. But good jobs are hard to come by, especially in a rural area. And... God had a purpose in all of it. He was teaching me things like how to lean on him, to give up control of things I cannot control, and to trust that he has the big picture in mind. I was learning to work with all kinds of people and keep my own self out of it. I was learning that with God, I am so much stronger than I ever imagined.

At the same time, my own coursework in counseling was bringing up personal demons. I had been doing work on my childhood for many years, but there is a lot of stuff to sort through. Years of abuse are not healed in a year or two - and the intensity of personal healing demands some periods of rest to recover. I dove into my healing with the same intensity I bring to everything. If God was truly sending me on this journey, I was going to trust him to bring me through it. A phrase that I held onto in the most trying times was that God does not only want me to survive, he wants me to thrive. In the midst of the worst personal times, I could literally see God's hand, reaching into the dark recesses of my subconscious and cleaning out things that I never even knew were there. In the worst of it, I knew that I knew that God was with me. I never once felt abandoned or alone. And that built trust. Trust to continue on the journey God had asked me to follow.

With an open mind, I waited for God to guide the next steps. All along this journey of grad school, when God has asked something of me, I said yes. Somewhere along the road, I had learned obedience... at least in this. When I got moved from one school to another, God told me to take a quarter off to give myself time to acclimate to my new surroundings. I listened. When God told me to get into accountability, I said yes and my girls have been there for me every step of the way. When God told me to clean up the messes I made at home by rushing ahead with my own agenda, I did. When God told me I needed to find balance, I figured it out instead of pushing myself to unrealistic schedules. I learned to take time for myself and my family. I learned to communicate better. I learned to listen when God was telling me that I needed to do more personal work - to not run from the hard stuff.

And God has moved in the midst of all of this. God has moved mountains. Over the course of this past year, my husband has been blessed with several unexpected raises. There have been situations in his job where things could have gone horribly wrong. And they have not. Situations where he had no control suddenly seemed to work themselves out. In my own job, the recession has created layoffs every year for the past four years. My job was spared. Recently, we took a huge step of faith. My husband and I decided that I should resign my position with the district. His income would be able to cover most expenses while I focused on finishing up my final year - internships. Again, I have seen God's hand move in that. When I felt like God was telling me I needed to quit my job because there is no way for me to teach and complete my internship hours, I didn't freak out. It's been planned for months and there have been very few moments of fear. When they arise, I just remember how God has moved mountains and met me every step of the way. Finding the internships was filled with ups and downs, but God kept whispering to me, "I got this." (As an English teacher, I find God's sense of phrasing intriguing at times.) Every time something has gone wrong, such as all of the no's because the agency or person was not able to meet the requirements of my program, I would remind myself of that. When I found the perfect site, and it was on the verge of being denied by my program, my friend reminded me of what God has been whispering in my heart, "I got this", and I relaxed and trusted. Within a very short time, I not only found an unsolicited secondary site, but got all of the paperwork done. I've gotten preliminary approval and now both sites are in the process of final approval. Living rural, there aren't a lot of choices for internships. I have found two sites to intern where I will get a great variety of experience - a county agency and a domestic violence group. Both will give me a broad base of knowledge and give me experience in working for an agency. Hopefully, the final approval will come through with no problems, but if it doesn't, I know God has something better for me.

And then on Friday, I got an unsolicited inquiry from a private school inquiring whether I would be interested in talking to them about a job. At first I was inclined to say no, but then I wondered if this was from God. So I emailed back and said, yes, I was interested in speaking with them. Who knows, maybe I will be able to work part time teaching while I complete my internships. If not, God will provide a part time job or maybe even another raise for my husband.

So, I don't have all of the answers yet, but I do have one. God is faithful. When he asks me to do something, he will provide the means to complete it. I still don't know the outcome of this journey. I don't have a plan of where or what my dream job will be. I only know that God will tell me when it is time. And that is something that I trust.