The empathy of opposition..... Chapter four

     

     Christ began his ministry in one of my most sacred places, the ocean. He ended his most profound lesson in one of my most beloved places, a garden. We have so much to learn from this Master Teacher, so much to be grateful for, because this I know..... pain and adversity is a teacher to which we all must be subject in our mortal journeys. In the economy of God, opposition is a necessary force of growth. Opposition = choice = agency. We choose how we will handle our challenges and learn from them. I've had a lot to learn.

     Opposition is of course a powerful but necessary law of the universe. Imagine a single human cell. With limits it becomes a perfectly ordered human being, capable of function and reason, healthy in most circumstances and able to live independently. Yet without bounds that single human cell becomes a dangerous cancer capable of killing that same human being. It is for our necessary good.  Opposition provides balance. It provides a proving ground for choices and progress, growth and boundaries all of which are necessary in our lives. How we use this opportunity is up to us. 

     I have spent years, since I was five actually, studying music. In all of it's perfection one of the most advanced forms of music I've performed is a concerto (a very long magazine of notes which requires a stage of musicians to stare at you and play along with you. They also talk about you in the dressing room after when they think you're not listening. That is a concerto.)  There are several musical elements or 'ingredients' in the said concerto including: melody, harmony, rhythm, texture, pitch (up and down), musical aerobics, etc. With movement and silence and harmony, each element opposing the other you have a symphony. 

     This is where things get really interesting for me. I have found in my life that God always teaches me with the most personal of lessons, when I stop and LISTEN. He usually uses the experiences and people I know best. Very often it's with music. He gracefully allows me to learn through teaching, and to teach through learning. Jesus always was the perfect teacher. And music is of course, a perfect example. 

     Without silence opposing the notes, harmony complimenting the melody, and rhythm defining the bounds of structure you have chaos. The many definitions of chaos: confusion, disorder, disarray, disorganization, mayhem, bedlam, pandemonium havoc, turmoil, tumult, commotion, disruption, violence, opposition.

     Opposition. Most people don't like this word, and I have often found that I shrink from hearing it in books I read and life experiences I see coming. But here's the thing: when you change your perspective, you change your problem. All of a sudden, there isn't one.... and that is an opportunity to learn something. Here is what I have learned: pain and opposition are really empathy in a nice little box. I've also learned that opposition is a growth opportunity. I have a worn out piece of paper with a poem scribbled on it in my journal. I found the poem this morning. I love it because it explains so many of life's trials in a way that I can understand. It was written by one of my former teachers, Barbara Werrett Neilsen.

It is entitled, "Pain"

I have seen love, 

Fallen on unbroken ground, 

Blow with the first wind.

I have seen love,

Laid in a shallow row, 

Unearthed with the lightest rain.

But pain

Is a plow

That opens earth for planting.

My heart is ready now.

Hurt~furrowed, it has depths

Designed for sowing. 

Oh, love that lands here

Finds good ground for growing.

     Opposition and pain have been a kind of a theme song for me, and I am so incredibly humbled and grateful. Please let me tell you why I thank my Savior for my difficulties  I am thankful for the difficulties growing up without close friends and loneliness because I learned to feel deeply. 

     I am thankful for the lack of material goods, the lack of money many times. I learned to appreciate earning my own way in the world and the value of work. 

     I am thankful for the many years of illness... Lupus, strokes, heart defects, surgeries, recoveries, sick days on end, unexplainable illness and chronic years of daily migraines. These too have etched patience deep in my soul. Empathy is a song I sing. 

     I am thankful for the ten years of infertility and the stinging judgmental comments of well meaning strangers and friends. My adopted heart children are two of my prize possessions. They are truly my best friends. I can cry with those and for those who weep for the want of children. 

     I am thankful also for the child I lost. I know I'll have her some day. Longing is a feeling that's grey and heavy, it wraps around my shoulders and helps me compose the music in my heart. 
     
     I am thankful for being remembered with one miracle child of my own, born at 36 weeks weighing 4 pounds. The toxemia and kidney damage I suffered don't even matter. I'd do it again in a second. She is my light and joy. 

     I am thankful for the loss of my grandmother. I didn't like being the one to find her that morning because I still feel guilty 30 years later. If only I'd come back in the room two minutes sooner I could have said I love you one more time. But now I remember. So I'm mindful and more grateful of the ones I see every day and I always say "I love you" before I leave them.

     I am thankful for enduring the trials of a broken marriage. It's alright, through the miraculous work of the teacher I admire most I can still repent and I can forgive. I can plant a new garden and grow again. God still loves me. Sometimes I don't understand why, and that's okay too. He just does. He just does!!! And that is why all humankind can rejoice in opposition of growth and pain.  

     I am thankful for the atonement, for on that night a solitary act of love and sacrifice I can never understand was endured for everyone who would ever live, including me. He had to understand how we would feel, the opposition... so he could overcome the chaos and return order and balance and perfection to everything and everyone. 

    My challenges have defied me, yet I have chosen to never let them define me. 
    Our Saviors empathy and love are real, just listen. He felt and overcame every challenge and every ounce of pain you or I will ever experience. Let him teach you too. Beautiful things happen and harmony returns when you choose to let the Master pick up the baton and begin to conduct the symphony of your life. 

Bus stop bullies and backstage bling.... Chapter 3

     

Bullies. 

They come with all kinds of compliments, lunch~boxes, ties and high heels. They'll wink at you while they trip you and grab your wallet on the way down. I have been bullied since I was a kid, and for some reason I have a homing device in my nose. I sorta sniff them out. Or the other way around. Either way, I've gotten it from the lunchroom gang, my frenemies, my siblings, (I probably deserved it!) my teachers and even the gopher I tried to catch (another story for another chapter). I've been harassed because I wasn't good at kickball, because I was a kick~butt pianist, because I was ugly, because I was a beauty queen, because I was alive. It happens. Anyway, I would like to think that Cinderella had it right. When you define what kind of person you want to be, "being kind and having courage" does pay off for the 98% of society who actually has a heart. But bullies just don't seem to fit the formula. Bullies have self esteem issues which surpass any form of empathy I can conjure. Which is why they get a special chapter in my book. 

     Truthfully, this will be one of the hardest chapters that I write. Not because it's particularly brilliant or clever, but because to me it's so raw. It's fresh and it stings no matter how long ago it happened. I find I can be fine one minute and burst into tears the next. I'm still learning about this phenomenon. People who manipulate, charm and gain your trust make their way inside the most vulnerable part of yourself: your heart. Should they be allowed inside? The answer is "Yes" if they have earned it. But what if their intent all along was to deceive, to hurt and cause damage. What if their intention was never anything but selfish. The pain they inflict can last for years. I know. Survivors of abuse sometimes don't survive. In that case the answer is of course "No." So, how do you tell? What does "Love at Arm's Length mean"?   It's the title of this book for a reason. Arm's Length is an expression. Let me explain. 
     
     When something triggers me and these tears just pour from my soul I know they are coming from the little girl inside who never felt safe. I had to run away and hide. Sometimes I was sent away for hours on end in the dark, alone. I was hurt. When something hurts and scares me now, something as random as a bill I cannot pay or a threatening phone call; the tears start to flow again. I'm learning that the tears are my heart~words and I must honor them. I must be the nurturer I never had growing up. I give myself a time out to just feel and cry. It's okay to cry. I'm learning to understand myself. The more often I allow myself this freedom of speech, the faster I'm healing and helping teach others how to heal!

     I have been living in an abusive marriage for 15 of the 25 years I have been married. I choose not to dwell on this aspect of my life or to view myself as a victim, and I choose to forgive my mate. I believe people can change. I am divorcing now, and am just entering a new chapter of my life.  I am frightened but hopeful for the healing I deserve. My daughters also deserve a better example of what real love and respect between two parents is all about. Maybe someday they'll both get that chance in our family. 
     
      I just studied an excellent Blog post HERE for additional help to determine and define ways to spot an abusive situation if you are interested in more information. For clarification here there are many different types of abuse, none of them belonging in any healthy functioning relationship. Please don't allow it to happen to your children, your spouse or yourself!

     I would like to focus on the healing that comes after the damage. The "resiliency" as one of my dear friends put it. For example: "If people throw stones at you.... pick them up and build something!"  
I've been hiding my abuse. Why I wonder. So I could fit in? So I could pretend I am the same person I always was before it started? Because no one believes me anyway? Maybe it's because I'm numb inside. Or because I felt sorry for him? No. I don't think It's any of those reasons. I think it's all of them. And that makes me guilty too. Before the abuse, before the damage and before the tears I was a different person. A long time ago I was much braver. 

     Every day I walked to our bus stop with my brothers. My job was to find said bus stop, rain or shine, snow or hail and make sure they got on that bus. I was the oldest and big sisters do these things. Most big sisters don't have to ward off vicious enemies on a daily basis but I did. My Fifth grade year a new kid with a gangster accent moved into our neighborhood and to protect the guilty, I'll call him CARL. Carl was an interesting character. He looked like a Chicago mobster in a leather jacket with spikes. His catch phrase: "I aint scaaaared ah you"  (emphasis on the scaaaaaaaared.... try to sound like 'the Fonz' when you read this.) Short as he was, he successfully gave my little brother a bloody nose day after day after day. This did not sit well with me. One, I had to explain to my mother why I didn't get him on the bus before the gang fight broke out on me instead, and 2. It broke my heart. What was I supposed to do about this? This kid was a menace. Not one other person at the bus stop would do a thing to help. Even the bus driver wouldn't look at Carl. His dad was just as scary. I had to become the anti~bully. I had to take a stand and out smart this mobster.
I took all of my baby sitting money ($5.34) yeah, it's a lot I know.... and I hired out the two biggest boys I could find in the neighborhood. Wait... does that make me a mafia chick? Who cares?! 

     The next day Mike and Brett showed up at the bus stop just as Carl was going through the nose routine with my brother and the other kids were wincing and watching. THEN! Words of Joy! 
"HEY CAAAAAARL....... WHATCHA DOIN?" said Brett. 
Mike didn't say anything. He was a foot taller than Brett. He just kept pounding his fists together. 
Carl didn't look so good. My brother looked strangely relieved. 
Carl's nose didn't look so good either. In fact, I think Carl's Dad had a long conversation with the bus driver later on who strangely knew nothing of the entire incident. He said something like...... "I know nothing... I just work here."
Years later, my brother the millionaire has been complemented many times over on his excellent nose for business. I just know I took action , a positive action to block a violent one. Maybe it was the right one, maybe not. It was the best I could do at my age. Sometimes solving an abusive crisis is about doing the best you can do at your age with what you have to work with.
     

 So were some other amazing young ladies I'd like to talk about. The first year I went to the Miss Utah pageant (go ahead and guess .... I'll never tell!)
I did fairly well in the preliminary competition. I won the talent award which is a VERY big deal. The talent award means you're IN. At least in the top 5. I also got a $2,000 scholarship for that alone which was very valuable to me in continuing my education. The night of my evening gown competition came and I was pretty excited. I was wearing a dress I had beaded myself. This dress took my hours to make. 128,000 beads.... I counted them all!  It was blue and sparkled like the night sky. It was gorgeous. I couldn't afford one of the store bought dresses like some of the other girls had, but this dress seriously looked like something a fairy god mother could whip up.  I was ecstatic about wearing it! I came back stage to put it on and then my heart sank. There was my evening gown, hanging on the rack, with the hem cut to shreds. I only had 10 minutes to change before I had to be on stage in front of the judges. I burst into tears. Someone had deliberately done this to me!!!! The pageant directors couldn't believe it. I was in shock. Someone was trying to take me out of the competition. If I lost evening gown, I was out. I didn't know what to do... I just stood there crying. I looked at my best friend and as fast as lightning she yelled to everyone girl in the dressing room to grab needles and thread. Then they grabbed me, pulled the dress over my head, fixed my hair, and re-did my makeup. At least eight more of them were all around me sewing like mad to tack up the hemline ... and we only had four minutes until I competed. They literally pushed me out onto the stage when my name was called. To my surprise, I won an evening gown award also! The girls shouted and hugged each other! A victory for the good side!!!!! The judges said I had such a sparkling smile they never even noticed my hem on the dress. Those girls saved my life that night.  I'll never know who the 'bullies' were that time, and it doesn't really matter. What mattered is who cheered the loudest when I placed in the top 5. My new friends. I truly felt like Cinderella with my new gown and a new attitude about making a difference.

     If you see someone in a victimized situation and if you've chosen to do nothing, don't think you haven't made a choice. You have my friend. Truthfully, if more of us checked on each other more often, stood up and said something or just stopped pretending nothing was wrong for once; so much pain and hurt could be stopped!  

    What's it going to take for you to stop pretending nothing's wrong? "Love at arm's length" simply means this: Be wise. Avoid familiarity with something or someone who doesn't deserve or hasn't earned your trust. Learn to trust yourself and protect your heart at all costs. Treat other's hearts with the same respect and transparency you want for your own.  If someone is secretive with you and want's to hide something, run. Fast. Keep your distance. Protect people even if you might get hurt. Character is who you really are when no one else is watching."

Just remember .... someone really is watching. And YOU can make a difference. 

Once upon a time... Chapter Two

Once upon a time is my favorite beginning for a story. I don't know if it's the curiosity or my own desire to step into the story book, but I'm just captive until I turn the page to find out what's behind the one I just read!!

I have often read about mirrors in these fairytales, and have pondered what the image looks like in reverse. Sometimes mirrors are people, and other times the mirror is a sacred place... like the ocean. Mostly, the mirrors in my life have been glass. 

Sometimes glass breaks.  After the glass breaks an evaluation must be done of course. Glass has a front and a back... the part we see and the part we think we see. When glass breaks it can cut. Some people throw broken glass away. Who wants all that mess and drama laying around on the floor? What good is a broken mirror? What is a broken mirror capable of turning into? Broken glass can rebuild something even more complex and beautiful. 

I grew up with a large mirror in my room. I practiced singing to it, smiling, matching my outfits for school over and over. I made sure I looked "good enough" to go out of the house. This of course was a perception in my mind. If I looked right, then I would be treated right. Pretty selfish of me, yes ..... but I was still learning. I learned that most people judged me by what they saw. Not the real me, not the "pray for your enemies" or "people who can judge you unfairly" me, but the skin deep me.  Often when young girls grow into our braces, our haircuts, our lanky bodies and our big eyes we wonder what others think. I know this because I was one and fortunately for me, I was not one of the fairest ones. It was a defining time in my perception of people, for one's spirit is the true measure of their worth. My spirit speaks.

What a gift to grow up the ugly duckling, for I learned that I can love others and forgive them. When I do, I start listening instead of looking. Their spirit also speaks. 

Being fair of face is also a blessing.  I'm grateful I grew into my awkward and started looking outward. I finally fit into that lanky body, big eyes, got the metal off my perfect teeth and grew out my hair. I found that although I had fixed my skin deep problems, I had not repaired the deeper self worth issues within.  People still judged me on my outfits and my smile. I've just gotten better at looking beyond theirs. 

After years of talking, reading, counseling, writing, forgiving, studying and loving myself in spite of my flawed perception; I've learned some valuable things about that reverse image.

The real truth of the matter is this: we've all got a back story. Even a piece of broken glass. I've got a back story too, and so does every other human being on this planet. Before I start judging and throwing things away, I ought to look a little deeper than the image I see with my eyes. When I have truly loved and served others and they me, we've connected at a far deeper and more meaningful level. It's a language that doesn't need words.  The Lord looketh upon the heart. (1 Samuel 16:7: Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature: because I have refused him: for the LORD seeth not as man seeth: for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.)

Mirror mirror on the wall.... who is the fairest of them all?  Who is the real judge of fair anyway? Certainly not me. I was never put upon this earth to be judged or judge. There is only one perfect enough to do this.... (Mathew 7: 5 Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.)

Amazing isn't it?  Someone is there who can take care of everything right, everything wrong and to ultimately repair at the heart level everything that is broken.  

I know because my heart has broken. 

I also know that when you get a new one you can't explain it without bearing witness to our Master who loves and judges not. My Savior really knows the back and front of my story and has a plan for what complex beautiful creature I will become. With a lot of patience and faith, I will allow him to be rebuild.   (Alma 5:14 Have you been spiritually born of God and experienced a might change in your heart?) Once upon a time I wasn't broken after~all.... I was always the mirror image of God's perfect, heartfelt love.

Home.... Chapter One

I waited in line at the airport and thought to myself, "This is absolutely crazy." Everyone in line looked so put-together, and everyone else looked like they had somewhere to be.... but me.
I felt as if I stood out with a sign on my forehead...."Housewife, old but cute, alone but harmless, single but off limits, laughing but lonely."

I glanced again at my watch... 11:39p.m. , just in time to catch the red eye flight out of my life. At least for now, this was the way out of my life, and my best chance at thinking.
I just couldn't hide anymore and I needed to find myself again.

The gate attendant said "Next!" and I caught myself making small talk, complimenting this tired woman on her smile, making the couple next to me feel better about their 'Brady-Bunch' suitcase, and helping the man who was detained at security by reassuring him that this sort of thing happens to everyone. I was happy when he thanked me in a beautiful French accent, and told me he'd had a horrible day. Apparently I was the only person who had spoken kindly to him all day long. He said "Thank you" again and smiled, then went on his way.

Typical. Here I am in an airport at the end of an exhausting day of running my children to school at 7:30 a.m., answering emails, phone calls, picking up prescriptions, making dinner, picking up my children from school... teaching music lessons from 4-8 p.m. and then packing! Oh right, I forgot to eat again. I grabbed a diet coke and a sandwich while I shoved my clothes into my carry-on suitcase. My husband came into my room.

"Are you packed?" He asked. I jumped. He always scares me when he does that.
"Yes, I think so..." I said. He started to thumb through my purse. "Looks like you have what you need." I panicked. I was praying he wouldn't see my hotel papers... I had them hidden in my journal. I needed to have a secret this time. Just something to myself. One thing that was mine.
"Yes, I tried to hurry.... I think I got everything! You and the kids will be fine for three days, right?"
"Oh, sure." He answered and looked away. "I appreciate this so much, more than you know." I said apologetically as he walked back down the staircase.

I knew he'd never understand but I hoped that the cleaning I did the night before and all of the groceries from Walmart that now stuffed the fridge would be a peace offering while I left for the weekend. I just needed to breath... I just needed to be.

The stewardess started talking and I snapped myself back to reality, and buckled up my seat belt, remembering every other time I'd run away. My mind drifted to growing up and the marvelous adventures I'd had when I used to visit my aunt across the country.... I guess I'm a bit spoiled. My Aunt was truly a 'kindred soul' as Anne Shirley would say, one of my most admired spunky spirits.

Why do I run away? I kept asking myself this as we sped down the runway.  I couldn't answer this question in my mind. I'm weak? I'm afraid? I'm hurt? I can't win? I love winning. It's what I was trained to do.  That can't be it. I don't know anymore. All I know is I need to run, as far and fast as I can.

We took off, and for once, one moment of relief I looked down on those lights and the tears finally began to flow. I hoped the nice couple with the 'Brady-Bunch' suitcase didn't notice that I was crying, because I really wanted them to feel better. If they saw me now, they'd know the truth, that I was a mess. The seat belt light went off and a hush came over the crowd in the plane. I was finally able to hide in public, and I found relief in the chatter of other people's problems. No one cared about my makeup. No one would judge me on my tennis shoes or my messy bun, and no one would mind if I cried myself to sleep.

We landed and I was suddenly swept away in another world... an airport which smelled of coffee, doughnuts and strangers. Time to put on my game face and find my way around this huge airport.
As I wandered through shops, corridors, people movers, moving people and cell phones everywhere I suddenly felt awake! I was so excited to get to my hotel room because there was an old friend waiting for me. This time, the wait had been too long.

The taxi dropped me off at my hotel and I checked in. I felt an incredible freedom and a safety with me, I knew that I was in the right place and the right time. Whenever I get that feeling it's because God is whispering to me, speaking to my heart, trying to get me to listen again. And when I can't hear, it's because I've forgotten how to recognize his voice. It's always about me.
I couldn't help but sleep when I found my room. The bed was so soft, and my room was so peaceful.

When I awoke, it was almost sunset. It was time.
11 hours on a plane, 3 hours in a taxi, 2 hours of driving and a year of planning.  It was time to find my old friend. I took the elevator down three flights, went outside and walked straight toward the ocean.

I began to pray and then I couldn't hold it in anymore. I just sobbed. I walked in the water as the sun went down and it washed over my tired feet.
I asked the Lord "Why?" "Why this marriage?" "Why am I so broken?"


"When can I leave" and "When is my pain enough?" My heart just ached. As the storm clouds moved in over that big gray sky, the wind covered my voice and answered me with hope.  My attention turned to the gathering storm clouds on the horizon. For once I found something big enough to hide my heartache in. The ocean was home,  just for tonight.