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Tired

 

I’m tired. I’ve pushed hard for several years to write the memoir, to work through Jerry’s cancer, to market my speaking. And I’m tired. This is a transition/sabbatical year. I’m waiting on God to purify my heart so I’m not angry about how this is playing out. It’s not what I’d expected. I’m asking him to help me rest in him and know that productivity does not equal value. I’m wondering if it’s okay to say, “I’ve done my part. I’ve saved several people’s lives as a therapist.” And “I’ve been obedient to the call to write the memoir.” As several people have said to me recently, “Perhaps the memoir is an offering, a sacrifice, to the Lord.”

Yes, perhaps it is a whole burnt offering. Unlike other Old Testament offerings, a whole burnt offering doesn’t leave anything for the priest. And I think of David who says he won’t offer a sacrifice that costs him nothing. Yes, I know of a few people whose lives have been changed by Trading Fathers. Sales are a tiny trickle these days, though, and it feels nearly at the end of its useful life, though I have many hundreds of books left. Other writing hasn’t gotten much response, either.

Nor do I feel a great need or desire to write. Or even to speak. I will, if someone asks, but I’m reconsidering the whole enterprise.

I’m tired. Maybe I’ll feel differently in a year. God knows. Maybe this is one of God’s death/resurrection motifs.

Or maybe it’s just a death that I will grieve and go on to something else. In any case, my word for this year is “minister to those I put in front of you.” That’s the last word I’ve heard from God. Not necessarily the “last word” but the most recent.

In this vein, I’m suspending this devotional blog for a season. I’m on Facebook and Pinterest if you want to hear from me. There are more than three hundred devotionals on this website which will stay up. If you have feedback, I’m happy to hear from you. karenrabbitt at gmail.com.

Father, we need your wisdom, your guidance, your strength, your comfort. May your will be done here on earth, in our lives, as it is in heaven. For your glory, Amen. 

 

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Recognize a Safe Person

 

“Find a safe person to process your pain with,” I wrote in Trauma Thoughts. Who’s a safe person? Some of us instinctively know who’s safe and who’s not, but others may find themselves repeatedly baring their souls to people who ignore or trample them.

If we need to develop skill in recognizing a trustworthy person, here are three questions:  ”Is this person maintaining eye contact with me?” “Is her voice kind?” “Is he speaking truth?”  And listen to your own feelings. Do you feel safe? What do you expect them to say and do when you disclose your hidden pain?

bully Pictures, Images and PhotosIf you say, “Sometimes I still feel like a little kid getting bullied on the playground.” Will she say, “Oh, yeah, everybody goes through that. I was so scared, in third grade, of George…” and she sails off on her own tale, leaving you watching from the shore. Her indifference to your pain only adds pain.

Will she say, “You must have done something to deserve it.” Her cruelty will double the old pain. Nobody deserves bullying. Bullying is sadistic. Bullies get pleasure from your pain.

Or will he say, “I’m sorry that happened to you. Do you want to tell me more about it?” If he doesn’t have time then, he’ll say so but he’ll offer you a date when he is available. His attentiveness alone will lighten your load.

Pay attention to the clues others give. Ask God to provide a safe person for you. Don’t let your soul be trampled further by indifference or cruelty. Everyone, including you, deserves love.

How have you learned to distinguish safe people from unsafe people?

Resource:  Safe People

Father, help us to recognize trustworthy people. 

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Best News Ever

If we get the emotional nurture we need in childhood, we move out of the house saying, “Hey, Mom and Dad, it’s been great. I’ll be in touch. Love you!”

If we don’t get the attention, affection, and respect we need as children, we leave our childhood home with two choices. We either look for parents everywhere or we grieve our losses and find God to be our real Father. It’s not that black and white, of course, but those are the three extremes.

At twenty years old, most of us don’t realize the losses. But perhaps we pull up the covers every night exhausted from working beyond our limits. Or we drift into drinking too much every weekend. Maybe we hang out with our college teachers because they give us attention. In the midst of those pursuits, we probably don’t realize that we are looking to fill a hole.

The healthier choice means we open our hearts to ourselves. Because we stop and think, we notice the voids. We start journaling. We pay attention to our sadness. We ask ourselves questions: “Why am I feeling so sad?” “Where did that anger come from? It seemed like an overreaction.” “Gee, I’m awfully anxious today. What’s that about?”

Grieving starts with noticing the losses and telling ourselves the truth about inattention, emotional violence, and disrespect. It continues with identifying and feeling our feelings. Then we can decide whether or not we are willing to cancel the debt our parents owe us. We can decide if we’re willing to see our parents as weak, sinful people rather than powerful gods.

We can release our hope that we will someday get what we need from our parents. That’s key. Because the truth is, if they were willing and able to give us the attention, affection, and respect we deserved, they would have done it already. We can try to confront them and ask for what we need. A rare parent can respond and make the changes. Most won’t.

But Papa-God, the most excellent Father, gives us what we need. He suffers with us. He never leaves us alone. He holds our hand, every minute. He attends to us with gentleness and respect for our limitations and abilities. He disciplines, molds, and fills us with his life that lasts forever.  Papa-God’s smile fills the holes in our hearts. In an increasingly fatherless world, that is the best news ever.

Good Papa, thank you.

 

 

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Forgiveness, Yes. Trust, No.

Forgiving my father didn’t mean I trusted him. It didn’t mean I let my daughter sit on his lap. It didn’t mean I cuddled with him. Even in his old age, he made sexually inappropriate remarks. Though he was a generous, hardworking, and dependable man in many ways, I never knew what he might do or say. I felt oppressed and unsafe in his presence. I could not trust him to keep his hands to himself, nor to keep his words pure.

fence Pictures, Images and PhotosHence, I limited my time with him. I set boundaries against his sin. The matter-of-factness of those words belies years of deep conflict. I longed for a real reconciliation. I wanted a father’s love. In my adult life, I’d never tried to get him talk about what happened. For many years, he was just too powerful a figure. With him, I remained a small child.

However, as I grew larger in my own eyes, he grew smaller. Finally, at nearly forty years old, I wrote “the honest letter.” After expressing my thanks for many aspects of my upbringing, I named the abuse and speculated on his own pain that had been acted out on me in the abuse.  I ended with: “I wish you wanted to know me, Dad. I wish you’d ask my forgiveness for the sexual abuse. I wish you would, even now, face your own pain.”

An excerpt from Trading Fathers, my memoir, continues the story:  ”After two weeks, he wrote a two word response:  ’I'm sorry.’ But he wasn’t sorry enough to engage in real discussion. He wasn’t sorry enough to explore his own motivation. He wsn’t sorry enough to hear my pain….I had done my part to try to reconcile. I’d exposed my heart to him. In response, he gave me two words. Admittedly, they were the necessary words. But they were not sufficient. Two words were not enough to build on. I’d often fantasized a warm relationship with him. Now I could deal with the reality. My father would not pay the price.”

Is there someone in your life who you have forgiven but don’t trust? What is that like for you?

Father-God, thank you for paying the price for relationship with us. 

 



 




 


 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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Mine That Feeling
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
“If I really let myself cry, I’ll never stop.” My college-age client looked out the window as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. I’d been seeing her for several weeks and today, we’d begun to discuss her painful childhood. It was just her and her mom. Her dad had left when she was four and she rarely saw him.


tears Pictures, Images and Photos“I just wish my mother would have listened to me, for once.” She looked at me and lifted her hands. Shaking her arms, she leaned forward. “Every dinner, and I mean every one, I had to listen to her complaints about working at the paper cup factory. After a while, I gave up trying to tell her about my day. She never asked. And I had to sit there for half an hour. I couldn’t leave. She wouldn’t let me.” She fell against the chair back as tears ran down her face.


Handing her a tissue, I asked, “Was there ever a time she listened?”


“No, that’s the whole problem. I felt invisible. She could have been talking to the air. And that’s still what she does. I called her yesterday to tell her about that “A” in sociology, but before I even said anything, she started about her job.”


“Feeling invisible is so painful, isn’t it? I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”


This client is a composite of several, (not the person in the photo) but representative of so many of us who were hurt by our parents’ sins. After we identify those sins and identify the feeling, we need to follow that feeling to it’s core belief. Feelings have reasons. They don’t come out of nowhere. Yes, it is scary to let ourselves feel what we feel, if the feeling is intense.  But that’s where the gold is. Let’s not waste those feelings. Let’s mine them, rather than cover them up. It is in the mining that we find the nuggets of  self-knowledge that will help set us free.


Yes, we need to find a safe place to do that work. For example, this young woman eventually felt safe enough in therapy to follow the sadness to her core belief:  ”I’m worthless.” She felt “worth less” than her parent’s attention. Not only had her father left, but her mother’s self-centeredness left no room for her. Her mom had provided food, shelter, and education, but had not provided attention, affection, or respect. Identifying that core belief allowed her to let Jesus speak his truth to that deep, painful lie.


Father of truth,  help us mine our pain to find those buried lies. 


 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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Studying Anger
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
Last week, I talked about reading emotions, particularly anger. In fact, we need to do more than read our anger. We need to study.


To study is to understand, to fit into an organized structure of information, to read and think and do experiments until we make sense of a subject.


Libraries are written on anger. A search yields 79 million results. We don’t need to read more than a few of those entries, a couple of books, and the Bible to study our own emotion of anger. Among other information, we’ll learn that everybody gets angry, though some of us deny that.  We’ll understand that most cultures teach their boys and girls differently about anger. We’ll get an overview of the kinds of situations that typically provoke anger. We’ll learn some wisdom sayings about anger. “A soft answer turns away wrath” the Bible says. (Proverbs 15:1)


The real challenge is examining our own anger thoroughly enough to deeply understand ourselves. Some of us feel we don’t need to understand. What’s the point? “I’m angry, I’m right, and life, the institution, or the other person needs to change.”


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Others of us are too afraid or ashamed of our anger to study it. We just want to get rid of it any way we can. Some of us don’t even let ourselves feel it to start with.


My father was an angry man. If he had been a client, I’d have said he was a rageaholic, based on reports of his use of anger to control his family, including occasional episodes of out-of-control rages. The fear of what he might do in that anger led me to suppress my anger, for years. And fear of making others angry often alters my behavior.


Anger, like any emotion, is a complicated and deep subject. But the more we study our own responses, the more self-control and wisdom we can enjoy in our relationships with ourselves and others.


Jesus, You are the source of all wisdom. More wisdom, please, about our anger. 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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Remember the Miracles
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
This week, Carrie Fisher, along with her mother, Debbie Reynolds, told her story on Oprah. Most famous for the role of Princess Leia of the Star Wars movies, Carrie suffers from serious mental illness that requires regular electroshock therapy as well as daily psychiatric medication.


She described how the shock therapy “blows apart the cement” in her mind, allowing her to function. She talked of thoughts out of control, embarrassing behavior, and, despite a productive professional life, decades of coping with manic-depression, now called bipolar.

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Watching, I remembered.


I recalled my own behavior with friends in Kansas City, attending the 1977 National Conference on Charismatic Renewal. Thoughts out of control. Embarrassing behavior. Jerry flying out to drive back with us.


Several days, then, in a locked psych ward. An electroshock treatment. Heavy-duty drugs. Diagnosis: Manic-depression, a life-defining disorder.


But the memories are long ago and far away. As if they happened to someone else. And I remembered again the miracle.


God has touched my biochemistry. It’s been more than thirty years since I took medication. My life has been defined not by mental illness, but by increasing emotional health. After recovery from that psychotic episode, I got a Masters in Social Work and saw clients for twenty years. Now I write and speak on emotional health.


God has raised my head and filled my days with light.


What miracle has he done for you that you’ve forgotten? Has he given you a spouse who has spoken life to you? Has he healed your cancer? Perhaps, like King David celebrates in Psalm 40 and me, he’s pulled you out of the miry clay, putting your feet on solid ground.


Let’s not forget.


Dear Papa-God. You are the God who saves, the God who brings us into wholeness. May we remember your work today. 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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What Do We Expect?
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
What we expect practically determines what we ask for.


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For example, what do we expect of God? When the diagnosis is cancer, do we expect God to heal directly, immediately? Do we expect God to heal through medicine? Do we expect to die?


What do we expect of our spouse? Of our pastor, our professors, our friends, or our neighbors?


What we expect is shaped by experience. Not just experience with God or the person in question, but experience with others.


If you’re a nurse, how have previous doctors treated you? When we imagine asking a friend for a favor, we take into account not only our history with that friend, but our history with all friends.


When we’re little, parents are emotional stand-ins for God. If Mom hugged us and applied a bandage when we skinned our knees, we likely expect God to give us what we need.


In our broken world, how do we learn to expect compassion, empathy, and help, unless we’ve been given those experiences. If we don’t expect to receive a good answer, we won’t bother to ask.


Father, help us to expect what you want to give us. For your glory.

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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Sow Five Positive Words
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
Here’s a self-compassion challenge: for every negative thought about our self or our behavior, write five positive sentences. Words that are true, kind, and hopeful.


A local newspaper columnist from the ’80s often referred to his wife as his “constant companion.” Since we are our own constant companion, let’s apply some marital research to our inner life. That’s where sowing positivity comes in.


Research shows that for every criticism, a healthy couple gives five affirmations. After twenty years of doing psychotherapy with individuals and observing my own emotional growth, I’ve learned healthy self-regard also balances out criticism with compliments.


If we’re already in a good relationship with ourselves, we instinctively think kind thoughts when we perform badly. We know sowing negativity doesn’t help. But if we’re just starting to learn a new skill, we need to make it a conscious process. Writing out sentences will help.


Here are some true, kind, and hopeful words that apply to all of us who desire to walk close to Jesus:




1. I am accepted in the Beloved. (Ephesians 1:6, KJV)


2. Jesus does not condemn me. (Romans 8:1)


3.  I can love myself just as I am because God does. (1 John 4:16)


4.  God is at work in me. I can rest in his work. (Philippians 2:13)


5. I am my Father’s project. He will finish what he has started. (Philippians 1:6)


Self-punishment is hard-packed clay in which nothing grows. Self-kindness is loam and compost and peat moss. Half the battle of growth is self-kindness. In that soil, change can germinate.


Jesus, let your word fertilize our soil. For your glory. Amen.

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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Self-Compassion or Self-Punishment?
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
Do you typically treat yourself with compassion or punishment? What kinds of sentences flit though your mind when you nearly cause a car accident? “Wow, keep your eyes open, stupid.” or “Oops, I could have hit that car. Thank you Jesus, I didn’t.


If we want to change from self-punishment to compassion, what’s the first step? When I changed my attitude toward myself, I first recognized those words that populated the back of my mind. “Dummy.” “Inadequate.” “Bad Mommie.”


Then, we need to sort out truth. Sometimes we need feedback from others, sometimes we can determine truth ourselves. Realistically, I knew I wasn’t a dummy. When I evaluated carefully, I saw I was inadequate in some ways, but not in others. And I knew I wasn’t a very good Mommie.


Then, having clarified true words from false, we can decide how to treat ourselves. I was a bad Mommie, in lots of ways. I screamed, I was selfish. Many times, I didn’t give my girl what she needed. I can ask her forgiveness, at the time and later. Then, I can forgive myself.


To entertain a forgiving attitude towards oneself doesn’t mean we condone what we did. It doesn’t excuse. Forgiveness means we cancel the debt against ourselves because God has canceled the debt against us.


Releasing that debt is the only way forward.


If I continue to entertain the “Bad Mommie” gremlin that lurks in my mind, it’ll feed self-disgust. That is also sin. I do not disgust God. He has absorbed all my sin and self-disgust into his own body on the cross.


We can adopt his attitude toward ourselves. By the Holy Spirit, John says, “This is  love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for  our sins.” 1 John 4:10.


When we work toward a self-forgiving attitude, we are receiving God’s love.


Sweet Papa, we are so grateful for your work in our hearts. Please continue to give us grace to forgive, especially ourselves, so we can keep moving towards your magnificent love. 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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Break Time 1
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
Taking a break today and next week. Here are a few blogs to check out.


Leadership blogs:


Wally Block   http://blog.threestarleadership.com/


Michael Hyatt  http://michaelhyatt.com/


Writers:


Mary DeMuth http://www.marydemuth.com/


Mary Pierce  http://laughlady.com/


Dianne Neal Matthews  http://www.diannenealmatthews.com/


Forgiveness, etc:


Serena Wood http://www.graceisforsinners.com/


More later!  I hope you have a blessed week.


Jesus, be present to us this week. Send your Holy Spirit in fresh measure, in ways we can know and feel and hear. For your glory. Amen.

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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What’s Love Got to Do With It?
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
Me: “Do you really want to let the bicycle trailer to stay out in the weather all summer? What about putting it in the shed?” He’d lifted the fabric-covered carrier off it’s hooks inside the back door and locked it to the outside of the screened porch.


Jerry: “There might be room, but the shed is behind the Kousa Dogwood tree. It’s hard to get it in and out back there.”


Me: “What about the garage? We could hang it above my bike.”


Him: “You’re not the one who has to lift it down.”


Me: “Oh. But in three years, I am the one who’ll have to replace the the sun-damaged fabric.”


Him: “Yup!”


Uh, do we love each other? Absolutely. Well, sort of absolutely, except where we love ourselves better. Like when I want to save the fabric but don’t mind him having to struggle with the carrier. And when he doesn’t want to hassle with hanging the carrier but doesn’t mind my challenge to sew and install new material.


You can hear the discussion of this morning’s conflict. What you don’t hear in this exchange is the laughter. What you don’t see is, as we uncovered the deeper issues, we were snuggling with each other. So, yeah, love does have something to do with it.


It’s love made of commitment and prayer that has brought us here to this place of conflict resolution backgrounded with laughter and hugs. God’s commitment, our prayers.


Here’s three I’ve often prayed. “Lord, help me understand why “X” hurts him so much.” “Help him understand how “Y” hurts me so much.”  And my favorite, all-purpose, marital prayer in the midst of conflict:  “Lord, soften our hearts toward each other.”


Lord Jesus, thank you for your love for us and the love you’ve given us for each other. Lord, soften all our hearts toward each other, especially men and women who have pledged their lives to each other and to you. 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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His Smile is Enough
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
Many of us grew up with “not enough.” Not enough lap space, not enough hugs, not enough attention. That has long term consequences. For some of us, it gets internalized into, “I’m not enough.” I don’t have enough to give to anyone else. Nobody wants to hear my thoughts. Nobody’s interested.


Or we believe we will never have enough for ourselves. Nobody will empathize. No one has lap space for me. I’ll never get the attention I need.


Some of us keep seeking emotional nurture, hoping against hope that we’re wrong. Some of us give up seeking, believing we’re right.


If we know the Lord, we believe, at least intellectually, that he always gives us enough.  But our emotional self keeps straying to the old paths.




What keeps us on God’s path? What does it take to let God into our hearts so deeply that he becomes “enough?” When challenged, we stumble over to the “not enough” place. “I’m not enough.” Or, “God won’t give me enough to break down the wall in this path.”


We want to skip down God’s walkway. Sometimes it’s not even a wall, but the tiniest root we stumble on. Dazed, we tumble into the ditch. Lying in the mud, we finally look up. Into the gleaming face of the Father.


Duh. When did we let go of that hand? It doesn’t matter. He’s smiling as he kneels down to lift us up.


Father, it is the grip of your hand and the smile on your face that brings us back to your all-sufficient path. 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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