Forgotten on the Operating Table

I have been trying for months now to try and find the words to adequately describe my feelings about my birth experience with my youngest daughter. It is socially unacceptable to talk about the ugly issues behind giving birth. Giving birth is “supposed” to be a lifetime moment that is remembered with un-surpassing joy. When you ask women to talk about their birth experiences, the majority will describe an experience that was empowering, wonderful and emotional. But for a lot of women we carry a secret of the grief we experience when our birth experiences are less than ideal. In some cases, we are left with post-traumatic stress disorder from the trauma that we are not to talk about.

Having a baby is a joyful event that is celebrated by all involved. So it makes sense that when a mother is done with her part (long painful labor) she is forgotten and all the attention goes to the new bundle of joy. So the mother is left with the aftermath of the pain, scars, and exhaustion. If labor goes well and with little to no complications, a mother can recoup within days after giving birth. However, if there are complications and a cesarean was needed, recovery can be painful and can take weeks or months to recoup.

I had two birth experiences when I was much younger, 21 and 24. Both were vaginally. My first was induced and long. I pushed for hours and still needed the assistance of contraptions to help the baby out. I had an episiotomy and my baby was bruised from the forceps. All was forgotten the moment the baby was placed on my bare chest. The look in her eyes, and the joy I felt was going to burst my heart. All the pain and suffering was worth it at that moment. It is what every mother dreams when she creates this wonderful creature in her womb. It is a love and bond that is so strong and beautiful. The only regret I had was allowing family in the delivery room. As much as they thought they were comforting and helping me, they were just in the way. They were all very joyful and excited to meet my daughter but it wasn’t about them. It was about my daughter, my boyfriend, and me. My family had to wait a long time to hold my first born, because I was too busy bonding and trying to breastfeed. It wasn’t a perfect, Hollywood picture birth, but it was beautiful. Recovery was weeks long because of the episiotomy. I never knew it could hurt that bad when going to the bathroom, and I never knew that much blood could come out of me and still live!  My second was peaceful, since I told family to stay home this time, and there were no complications. Having your newborn placed on your chest is such a wonderful and emotional bond. Recovery was only days long and a new family was created.

As a mother giving birth, your only concern is always your baby first and yourself second. We anticipate the first cry. We count fingers and toes. We awe at the creation that we nurtured and sacrificed our bodies for. We can’t wait to meet our little joy and to talk to her so she can hear the voice she came accustomed to for nine months. There really is nothing like it in this world.

So after four years of being a single mom I met a wonderful man. We knew that we wanted to share in the joy of having a child together. I couldn’t wait to experience all of the joys and emotions with him when bringing our daughter into the world. I couldn’t wait to see the look in his eyes when he sees the power of our love manifested in our child. I couldn’t wait for all three of us to bond- peacefully and joyfully.

My pregnancy didn’t skip a beat, just some minor stress related to family. I gained a little more than I would have liked, but it was nice to eat whatever I wanted, and my new husband took joy in cooking for me. We had a blast preparing for our new daughter. Her nursery was painted and furnished. My sister gave me a wonderful shower. My husband and I talked in the evenings about what our baby would look like and whose personality she would have. It was fun dreaming. We even created our own birth plan. We wanted a natural peaceful birth. No family or friends at the hospital. No drugs or epidural unless it was completely unbearable and I begged for it. Our code word was banana. We wanted to do skin to skin immediately after the birth, as well as breastfeed. It was important to us that we bond with our daughter, just the three of us.

When the day arrived and my contractions were strong and close together, my husband and I drove to the hospital and so began a journey that would change my perspective on births, cesareans, relationships and life.

We arrived at the hospital around 7:30 PM. Contractions were strong, but not unbearable. Unfortunately, the baby’s heart rate would drop after every contraction. That was concerning. So I was being monitored closely. Determined to go through this naturally I breathed through each contraction, and my husband held my hand. After hours of this I made little progress- I had only dilated to 3cm. already exhausted and discouraged, I asked for an epidural. I was hoping I could rest through the contractions so I could have energy to push the baby out. 

After the epidural was given, I was able to rest little. I had to be monitored and checked. Contractions were making little progress so they gave me Pitocin. I noticed there was a spot on my right abdomen that didn’t take to the epidural, so I could feel the contraction. They tried to pump more medicine into my body to try and numb that spot. It didn’t work. They pumped more fluid into my veins. They artificially popped my bag of waters and noticed it was colored. I knew that I had 24 hours to get this baby out or she would be in danger of infection. Still I only dilated to 6 cm. and the baby was not dropping. I lay in my uncomfortable bed, not able to feel my legs, but still able to feel every aching contraction. They pumped more water into my womb hoping it would make the baby drop. They tried to position me on my left side, since I was incapable of moving myself due to the epidural. Then one strong contraction came, it lasted what seemed like forever. I moaned and breathed through it. 8 cm dilated and the baby’s head was still not quite dropping. But the worst case scenario was beginning. My daughter’s heart rate dropped after that contraction, so low that the Dr. told me I needed a cesarean. The baby could not handle the contractions.

At this point, everything happened so fast, the details are murky and vague. I could see the fear in my husband’s eyes. I remember them placing a cap on my head and giving me more medicine to stop my contractions. The anesthesiologist came in and dropped a bomb on me. Because my epidural didn’t take, I would need to go completely under. My worst fear was coming true. I was terrified. So many thoughts were going through my mind. The worst of course was that my baby would not make it, or I wouldn’t make it. Before I knew it, they had me sign a bunch of paper work and then wheeled me into the operating table. My husband kissed me and then he was gone.

The prep time was slow. I lay on the operating table listening to the nurses casually talk about their lives and explaining to me what was happening. They shaved my pubic area and my tummy. I had to lie on my back with my arms out with only the view of the bright lamps. No longer was I in charge of my birth, my body or my life. It was in the hands of the medical crew. I had no choice but to trust them. I thought about my husband and what he must be thinking and going through. I desperately wanted him there with me, but because I had to be completely under, he wasn’t allowed. I prayed. I prayed my daughter would be okay. I prayed I would be okay. I didn’t know what was going to happen and I was scared, alone and cold. Then it was time to put me down. The lady calmly asked me to lift my chin so she could place the tube that would help me breathe into my throat. I started counting and then everything went black.

When I started to come to, I could feel an excruciating pain on my lower abdomen. My body began to shiver and when I placed my hand on my empty tummy, I felt an enormous amount of sorrow. The pain was overwhelming. I could not contain my shaking body and I moaned to cope with the pain. My husband was by my side, holding our baby. I wanted to hold her and feed her, but it was too painful and I couldn’t stop shaking. I could see that my husband was a bit reserved with how I was reacting to coming out of anesthesia. He was trying to comfort me by showing me the baby, but it was just too overwhelming for me.

As I calmed down, thanks to the morphine they gave me, the baby was finally handed to me. She was wrapped in a blanket and as much as I wanted to rejoice, I was feeling empty and tired.  I don’t remember much about that only that I still couldn’t walk and the adrenaline was still high in my blood stream so I wasn’t really myself. I had to be told what happened with my baby while I was under. I was told she was examined by the hospital pediatrician and she was healthy. I was told that was cleaned up and then wrapped up and handed to my husband. My husband was concerned for me and was told that I was doing just fine.

Here is the hardest part for me to explain. The part that I am still grieving and left confused. The part that I am not supposed to talk about- The part that I keep hidden inside and try to pretend that it never happened- The part that re-defined relationships in my life.

After this traumatic event, I was distraught for many reasons. Firstly, I was heartbroken that I missed the BIG moments of giving birth- Hearing her cry for the first time, skin to skin for the first precious hours of her life, and bonding with my husband. I missed him cutting the umbilical cord. I missed him meet her and hold her for the first time.  In a real personal sense, I was grieving the loss of my birth experience, the dream of what I had experienced the first two times.

I don’t know what it is about having a baby that makes people go crazy. I understand the excitement, and I having experienced the other end through my nephews and niece, I am still trying to find answers about what I found out happened while I was unconscious on the operating table.

Apparently, I was told just a couple days of coming home from the hospital, that my dear mother-in-law was not only at the hospital uninvited, but somehow she was able to hold my daughter before me.  She gloated and beamed with joy as she explained to me how happy she was to have that moment, but more importantly how happy she was that she could witness her son become a father. When those words reached my ears, the grief I was already feeling multiplied tenfold! I wanted to yell at her and ask how she could be so inconsiderate and selfish. I didn’t understand how this could happen. Shouldn’t I, the mother, the one who sacrificed so much and went through so much pain and trauma be the one to experience that moment and joy? So I asked my husband to explain what happened. He told me that when he knew I was safe and going to be alright, his parents arrived and so he invited them in the room to show off the baby and lo and behold, he handed the baby to his mom and it was her embrace that my daughter felt before mine and she was able to witness what I waited nine months for.  I was upset and hurt by this because it made me feel forgotten. As if I was only the incubator per say. It didn’t matter that I was unconscious and sacrificing myself to bring this precious baby into the world, all that mattered was just that- a healthy, cute baby was brought into the world. So to wait for me to come to in order to bond with my baby and husband never even occurred to them. They were too excited and too overwhelmed with joy to care that my dreams were being diminished.

So on top of feeling like shit from the cesarean, and feeling like shit from the loss I was experiencing I was shocked to discover how little support I was receiving. Recovery was slow and painful. Something I never experienced before. Walking hurt- oh how it hurt! Getting out of bed was slow and painful too. Pain meds took the edge off, but it didn’t take away the pain. It was nice that family and friends brought over meals for us and I so appreciated that because while my husband worked it was nice to have a meal ready in the evening. My mother-in-law told me she was going to take some time and help me when needed. I thought that would be nice, but little did I know that her idea of helping me was parking her butt on my couch holding and bonding with my new baby. I guess she forgot what her cesarean was like, because she literally told me to go away and get stuff done so she could have alone time with my baby. I was puzzled because I was hurting and could barely walk, what did she mean “get stuff done” anyway? The only thing I should be doing was healing and taking care of my baby. Keeping the house clean was definitely not on my priority list at that time. I needed someone to take care of me.

As my feelings of the whole situation became more complex the harder it became to process the losses. Why was I feeling so awful when I should be feeling joy and excitement? Was I overreacting? Was it my hormones? Was it my upbringing? I couldn’t figure it out. All I knew was that I was very unhappy. I started to get more and more angry with how my birth experience panned out, and I was getting more and more angry at my mother-in-law and how she was behaving with me and MY baby.  I was already upset with how she was able to hold my baby before me and witness my husband hold her as well. So every time she held her, it made my skin crawl. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to share her; it was the way it was done. She treated MY baby as if it was HERS. She even thanked me for having her, as if I did in fact have this baby for her. My husband, at the time, had yet to thank me for giving him a healthy, beautiful daughter, so why is she thanking me? She bragged about getting a greeting card in the mail congratulating her for becoming a grandma. Did she bother to buy me flowers or a card to congratulate me and my husband for becoming parents? NOPE! Everything she said made me angry. From telling me my daughter’s diaper was put on too tight, to claiming that she loved my daughter as much I did. I have to admit that last one really put me over the edge. I had it. I would rather go through the rest of my post-partum alone then deal with this.  So I did. I put up some boundaries and hell broke loose.

I know my husband loves his mom, and it has taken all of this to realize that their relationship was inappropriate at least. It took a lot of tears and late night arguments for us to finally make our giant step of independence. It has caused strained relationships in the end, but sometimes a couple needs to do what is best for their nuclear family, especially when a new family is created. So I started therapy for post-partum depression and discovered I was also going through post-traumatic stress disorder from my cesarean; in fact it was labeled complex PTSD because of all the abuse and neglect from childhood that I had yet dealt with. So I started researching and reading articles about what I was going through and discovered I wasn’t alone. There were a lot of women grieving their birth experiences and a lot of women trying to find a way to deal with their overbearing mother-in-laws after giving birth. But the main theme I see over and over again through this journey is this:

Women who are pregnant and giving birth are still human beings with feelings, dreams, fears and hopes. Her body still belongs to her and she needs support. She is NOT an incubator for your grandchild, niece, nephew or whatever relation you may have with the baby. Giving birth is wonderful, but it is also a medical procedure- a major one, if that. She is vulnerable, in pain and needs to have her privacy respected. Her recovery time is about HER and her baby. It is not about you. It is about what she wants, not about what you want. Don’t take what she does and doesn’t do personally. You don’t know what kind of grief she is going through.  You will have plenty of time to celebrate and be a part of the new creation.

And a little note to husbands: It is your job to make sure that your wife is safe and feels protected through this whole process. You had a hand in creating this child with her, but it is her body that she is sacrificing (not just cosmetically but even her own life) and needs to know that you will move heaven and earth for her and your baby. Tell her she looks beautiful ALL THE TIME, and if something or someone is bothering her, don’t question it or minimize it. Be the bigger man and help her feel special, and console her if she needs to be. This process is such an emotional monster for her; she needs to know that you love her and that you are going to be there for her. Give her time to heal, in her own way.

Having a baby is a joyful, once in a lifetime event, but don’t let your joy of the baby force you to forget about the mother who birthed her. She deserves your respect, honor, loyalty and kindness; after all, she just went through something excruciating to bring that cute bundle of joy into your arms.

 

Here are some helpful links:

At Least You Have a Healthy Baby

Comforting a Woman Traumatized by her Birth Experience

The Most Important Thing

Woman Who Didn't Have a Healthy Baby Reflects on the "Healthy Baby" Trope

So, About This Birth Rape Thing

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stubborn Hope

Life is hard. How many times have I read, experienced, and said those very words. Yes, life is indeed hard. When I look back on all that I have been through and all that other's had to endure, life sometimes just isn't nice. I have been struggling lately with depression and anxiety. Unresolved anger and fear linger in my soul and even though it is uninvited and unwelcome, it lingers causing so much grief-- robbing me of the joy that life also offers. Because life is also beautiful and wonderful and amazing.

"Fake it til' you make it."  That's what has been getting me through this depression. I smile, pray and perform acts of gratitude in order to suppress the pain that comes with grief. But it's there. Always there.

I pray to a God I don't understand, pleading, begging and demanding that he/she remove this burden from me. Yet, it remains. Mocking me. Leading me. Controlling me. The more I try to suppress it, the more it grows and the deeper I fall. It's an ugly, but somehow a beautiful array of cyclical symbiosis.

Yet, I keep fighting. I keep believing. I keep on keeping on. And for that very reason, hope stays a lift. Hope gives a little shimmer of light in the darkness.

Some days, it's extremely difficult to find the shimmer to of light. Days when you hear the news of tragedies around the world. Days when you are betrayed by the ones who claim to love you. Days when you are so exhausted and angry that you just want to runaway and hide. There are moments in time where I question my faith. Where I question the state of humanity. Frightened for the future. It's easy to fall into the depths of depression, fear and anxiety when there is so much evil and badness in the world.

It's easy for me to fall into so much negativity with all the negative in my life. And when some kind of evil strikes, it leaves me confused. Sometimes we will never have an answer to why the evil happened. Maybe because of the abuse and neglect of my childhood, I am left with no tools on how to fight this evil. Or at least not take it so personal. So I do the best I can.

And so I sit here, thinking, yes, that's true isn't it. I do the best I can. And with all that rambling, what I am trying to say is this: We all struggle. We all witness and experience evil in our lives. So it's easy to see this world as it is, and shrink with fear, depression and anxiety. Suspicious of people and angry for the crimes we commit to one another-from murder, cheating, stealing and gossiping. And it's tempting to stay isolated, and to succumb to live a life of selfishness. We all understand and accept the woman who lives in such a way, because it makes sense. So when we meet someone who decides to not let this world overcome her, who says, by her presence, that it is better and nobler to live with hope, we become angry and defensive. We want nothing to do with such madness. And it is, isn't it? MADNESS. Madness to believe in good in people, and in life. Those people who live with purpose-- you know the extremists, the self-righteous who proclaim that we shouldn't let the evil in this world win. Yes, they are crazy indeed. Don't they know that life is hard! Don't they know that people are untrustworthy? Don't they know that their faith is blind and nonsense?

 Don't these people SEE how awful this world is??

Of course they do! Then why and how do they do it? How are they able to have such conviction? Such confidence in their hope?

It's because they not only see this world as it is, but they see it as it should be. And it is the should be that drives their conviction. That's where the hope comes from. They live, despite the evil, trying to make this world as it should be. If that isn't madness, then I don't know what is.

Me? I use to see the world as it should be, and it left me sad, because there is little to no support on my end. Too much shit happened to me to believe that life can be what it should be--Abused, Used, Neglected.

Every time I put myself out there- Every time I gave myself away- Living with the hope that life can and should be better- I was either abused, used or neglected over and over again.

No matter how hard I tried, I ended up in the same place.

All of this, and so much more, has left me tired. I am drained from all the lies, neglect, and unreciprocated support. I am tired of it all. Slowly I watch myself loose more and more shimmer of light. Becoming more negative. Becoming more angry. Becoming more suspicious. As much as I want to, and desire to, see life as it should be, I don't trust myself anymore to go there.

I promised myself I wouldn't end up here, and yet here I am. All because I wanted to see life as it should be. All because I wanted to believe that people are inherently good. All because I don't know any better.

Life is hard. No, Life sucks, no matter how you look at it, because people suck. And like the weed that grows in a conspicuous lifeless place, my hope shines. Stubborn and relentless, the little tiny speck of light that remains in my soul, flickers. And with all the gentleness, and love I can muster, and with squinting eyes, I see the flickering light, and know that I mustn't give up. I must continue to fight the good fight. I have three little ones depending on me. I have a world depending on me. So I forgive God for letting me down. I forgive my husband for letting me down.  I forgive myself daily for all the times I let myself down. After all, I am doing the best I can, and while there will be days of gloom and darkness, I will join the ranks of all the mad people in this world and smile. I will love. I will forgive. I will not let the evil win.

A Letter To My Son

Dear Kevin,

I found this on your instagram: "I've never pleased anyone in my life, no ones ever told me they love me, or meant it anyway, what's the point of living if you have no one to live for? The only reason I'm not dead is bc I don't got someone to die for."

I think this might have something to do with a girl. Or I think this has to do with how you view your life. I wish I could make you see it differently. I wish I could have you see through my eyes just how much you are loved and how proud I am of you. I wish I could protect you from the world's cruelty. Yes, people sometimes say they love you and don't mean it. It's not your fault. It's not because of you that they do this. It's because they are hurting too. They are afraid of the truth. Sometimes people will hurt you and I wish I could cover you with a big blanket to protect your little heart from this. I know life hasn't been fair, and I am sorry to say that life will continue to be unfair. See, son, I want you to know that life is NEVER going to be what you think it ought to be. Life and people will let you down and you will be left empty wondering what the point of all this is. I know because I tried to live life by my own rules and it left me angry, depressed and disappointed. It took me a really long time to realize that my rules did not fit with how life really was. I wanted people to be more understanding and compassionate. I wanted to live where the good people always got good from life and the bad people got the bad stuff. That isn't true. I wanted people to be honest and kind, and I found out that most people lie and are unkind. I found out that trusting people was not always easy. I spent a lot of time in my anger and depression because I didn't know how to deal with ALL of this. I tried controlling and wishing and conforming, only to become lost and confused.

Son, you are not here to please anyone. The only person you need to please is yourself and your God. Trying to please people here on this Earth is like trying to put on a pair of pants that don't fit. And even if you can get them on, you look pretty silly because it's not a good fit. You need to wear a pair of pants that fit you. It doesn't matter if other people don't like your pants. There will ALWAYS be someone who will hate and disapprove of you. As a wise woman wrote, "don't try and win over the haters, you are not the jack ass whisperer."  Be true to who you are son. Be courageous and brave and live life in a way that puts a smile on your face. Even if the whole world doesn't understand you. Even if the whole world doesn't say they love you. But you know what? You do have people in this world who love you very much. I know sometimes it's hard to see it because we don't love you the way you want to be loved. That was another HARD lesson I learned. I learned that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you at all.

See, Kevin, people are messed up. All of us! We all have stories of hardships and trials that beat us up pretty good. So we don't always know how to love one another the best way. Sometimes we are just plain selfish. I hope that you can look at us with forgiveness and compassion instead of judgement and anger. But see, there are people in this world who do try and love. Who give it their best shot and doesn't care whether it makes a basket or not. I am hoping you can be one of those people. A person who sees life's grander things rather than the ugly ones. Bad stuff will always happen around us, and to us. Please don't ever think that giving up is an option. The point of life is not about pleasing others or having everything your heart desires. It's about living it the best way we know how. By loving ourselves, our God, and others. It's messy sometimes, and confusing, but it's worth it.

I love you Kevin. And just because you have a pulse doesn't mean you are alive. We can walk around like a zombie and just conform to what the world says we should be, or we can be true to ourselves and live in a way that is honest and good to who we really are. In the end you will find that joy you have been searching for.

Be Brave. Be Courageous. Don't Give Up.

Love,

Mom

Am I Beautiful?

The BIG question every girl asks the world is... "am I beautiful?" There is a lot of status, and a lot of pressure to be beautiful in this world. And depending on where you live, beauty is defined in so many different ways, there is no universal commonality when it comes to what is considered a beautiful woman. For instance, some cultures find women who don't shave sexy, and in another culture women who wear head coverings are considered lovely and are respected. But here in this country women who can fit into a size 2 or less with a bra size twice or three times that size is considered "hot."

Every little girl wants to be admired for her beauty. Haven't you noticed how most little girls love to play"dress up" in their frilly dresses and twirl around in front of an audience, asking them, "am I beautiful?"

I struggled for years to try and fit into the image of what I thought people wanted me to look like. I exercised and ate accordingly and paid high dollars for clothing, hair and make-up to make sure that when I asked the world if I was beautiful, the answer would be a shouting, "YES!" But now that I am nine months pregnant, my belly is popping out and I have gained more than 40 pounds. Every public appearance I make there is comment from a stranger on how I look. If I had a dollar for every twin comment and "Boy, you are huge!" comment I would be able to pay for my new daughter's college education, or at least her first year of day care.

This journey of pregnancy really had me thinking whole lot about the words pretty, beautiful, hot and sexy. For one, I dont feel that way at all because when I ask the world, "am I beautiful?" the answer is murky, confusing and shocking. When I look in the mirror, I see fatness and weight gain. When I put on my clothes I feel unsexy and like a whale. And now with such a busy schedule with a new marriage, kids and work, who has time for working out, hair and make-up? So trying to be beautiful while pregnant has not been an easy feat. So I decided to stop trying. I decided that I was tired of placing my worth and beauty in the hands of strangers, who they themselves, have no idea what true beauty really is anyway. I guess I realized that our definition of beautiful is all wrong.

How can I NOT be beautiful when I am carrying a precious jewel inside my body? How can I NOT be beautiful when I am raising children to be responsible, caring and loveable people in this world? How can I NOT be beautiful when there is so much love and kindness inside of me to give to others? How can I NOT be beautiful when I inspire young minds to think beyond themselves?

See, our current definition of beautiful is weak! It is weak because beauty shouldn't be about outward appearances but should be about what you are made of. Beauty should be strong and stable, not weak and interchangeable. In order to be beautiful in this world, you will have to keep changing yourself for everyone you meet, and eventually you won't know who you are. I know because I used to think being pretty was really important, so I was confused and I felt weak most of the time.

See, there is beauty with knowing who you are and being confident with that.  Being beautiful should be about discovering what we love in life-- what makes our heart sing. Everyone has their own unique ideas on what is beautiful in this world. Sunsets, flowers, music, children, art, laughter, food and so forth. And when we soak in all that beauty, how can we NOT be beautiful for it?

So when I am doing/experiencing these things:

Holding hands with my husband

Helping my son with his homework

Routing for my daughter's basketball team

Roasting and peeling chile with my sister and her family

Catching up with a lost friend

Laughing at one of my husband's jokes

Eating at my favorite resturaunt

Feeling my new daughter kicking and squirming inside my tummy

Having a family dinner at my in-laws

Making a difference in one of my student's lives

Running on a cool morning

Wiping my daughter's tears

Enjoying the wilderness

I am no longer asking the world "am I beautiful?" instead the world is asking me, "am I beautiful?" Because what surrounds me, what I experience in this short lived life, is way more valuable then the time and money spent on beauty routines that come and go. The people in my life FILL me with beauty and therefore, I can confidently, and strongly say, YES! YES I am beautiful and so is the world!

Finding Gold!

My new husband has a very interesting hobby. He likes to dig for gold. He is even a part of a gold association here in town and just the other weekend we went out and tried to find some gold in the Pilar area. If you haven't been there, it is a beautiful mountainous area where the Rio Grande flows. Lots of canyons and fresh air. It is definitely God's country... wild, free, and just breath takingly gorgeous. So while my cowboy digs and digs I enjoy the beauty that surrounds me and the love that I feel deep inside and out. Sometimes I enjoy a good book.

 But when the digging is over, I do enjoy the panning part of finding the gold because it fascinates me that there is actually little specs of gold in the dirt. All you need to do is wash out the dirt and poof, you find gold. Well, finding the gold isn't always that easy since it is hiding as little specs rather than big nuggets. Imagaine! Shiny little gold specs in a big pile of dirt. FASCINATING!! I NEVER knew there was gold in the dirt I walked on. Looking at the pile of dirt I would never have guessed that a precious metal lived and hid in the dirt!

And so when I sit there panning the dirt searching for little specs of gold it reminds me of something special. So special that I smile and laugh and just fill with joy when I find the little specs of gold. WHY? Because that something special is me and it is you! Think about it. Don't we all have a little gold in us too? That little spec of precious shiny stuff inside of us, hiding in the dirt. Sometimes we focus so much on the dirt that we don't realize that there is gold in there. Sometimes the dirt seems so heavy and dense that there is no way gold can be hiding in there. Or sometimes we think our dirt is too dirty, so why would something so beautiful, so precious and so valuable be hiding there? Or worse, maybe we know about the gold inside of us but we hide it! We hide it because our specs are not as big as the others. Or we think our shiny precious light is not enough so we pretend we don't have any.

Maybe what is even worse than that, is when we do discover our gold and we share it with other people, but instead of accepting it as a precious gift, they laugh at us! They tell us our gold is too small, or not enough. Or they get scared and tell us to hide it because the world just doesn't want our gold. Or they become angry and jealous because they don't want to discover thier own gold, or compare ours to theirs and find thiers inadequate so they make us feel inadequate. The best solution then is to keep our gold secret and keep showing off our dirt instead. So that others are not threatened or angry with us. How sad but true! Here is why....

When I sit and pan for gold in all that dirt my honey dug from the earth, I am reminded that I do have gold inside of me whether I like it or not. It doesn't matter what I think or what others think, I DO HAVE GOLD INSIDE OF ME hiding in my dirt, in all my ugliness. And that is a beautiful thing! My gold is a shiny spec of joy--It is when I find hope in hopeless situations--It is when I love myself and others-- And it is when I do the right thing and stand for the right purpose regardless of the ridicule I will receive. Sometimes I am afraid to show my gold to the world. I don't think it is big enough or shiny enough. Sometimes I just want to be liked by others that I hide my gold because I don't want to be laughed at or judged.

As I write those words, those truthful and hurtful words, I know how wrong it is to hide my gold from the world. That I am not doing the world an ounce of good by hiding and pretending. But I find my dirt too comfortable. You see, my dirt is my shame. Shame of my past, shame of who I am. And so I can't let my gold shine through because I believe that I am not worthy. You see, the dirt, the shame, is so thick and dense sometimes that I don't see the gold. Sometimes I forget it's there. Even though I smile and do my best to enjoy life, the dirt is there, hiding my gold, my true joy and love. I know my gold is seen by those close to me and who love me dearly, and when I am alone working on myself, I too see it. But to really let the world know about the little specs in all that dirt? I just don't know if I am brave enough yet. All I know is that it is there. It is in you too. And maybe when we summon up the courage to let the world know, maybe the world won't laugh. Maybe the world will say, "Me too!" and then when we encounter one another, we will see the gold that is there, hiding in the dirt, and smile with joy and love, rather than with disgust and judgement. Even if the gold is tiny little specs. We will notice them in others because we know it is in us. And then we can stop the hiding and the pretending and just let our gold shine!

The Prodigal Son

There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, "Father, give me my share of the estate." So he divided his property between them.
Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything , there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent hime to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
When he came to his senses, he said, "How many of my father's hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death!" I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: "Father, I have wronged you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men." So he got up and went to his father.
But while he was still a long way off , his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
The son said to him, "Father, I have wronged you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son."
But the father said to his servants, "Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For his son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost an is found." So they began to celebrate...

What a wonderful story right? Don't you love stories where there is a happy ending. Son goes off and lives "wildly" and then returns home to a dad who not only takes him back, but shows compassion and unconditional love. A story where everything seems to work out perfectly. But when I read this story I read so much more than a happy ending. What I see is a story of pain and loss. I see a story of faith and hope. I see a story of a dad whose wisdom and patience is so counter culture that it really makes me think of my own situtation with my younger son.

When the younger son asks for his inheritance there is no questions asked, no judgement of how greedy the son is being. The dad divides his property and gives his son's their share. I know I am sepculating here, but maybe the dad saw that his son was in some sort of need, or maybe it was just time to allow his son's to grow up and take over their own lives. Whatever the reason, it amazes me how the dad handles this situation of giving his son's what they may or may not have deserved. As a dad it was in his best interest to provide for his son's and to be there for their requests.

When the younger son leaves and starts to spend his wealth on "wild living," I am taken back to what the dad must have felt. Was he angry he left? Was he disappointed that his son was "living wildly?" Was he scared his son would never come back? Was he worried his son would die in choosing to live so care free and wild? I do not know. All I know is that I would be feeling all those emotions if my son left and lived "wildly." I would try to control him and help him. I would plea and beg him not to live so crazy. I would lecture and ground him. I would probably look at him in disgust and wonder how he could be so selfish, so greedy and so dumb!! I would be angry at him for spending all I worked for. There would be NO WAY IN HELL I would accept him back. Right??

But why? Why does the son want to come back? Why does he think of his dad when he is in need? And isn't that typical? You know what I mean, those people who only seem to call when they are in need? Don't we all have someone in our life who seems to be that way? And are we not irritated by their request and feel used by them? Don't we demand that they grow up and learn how to fend for themselves? Of course we do! But what the dad does here in this story is so graceful, so compassionate, I want to call him a pushover and an enabler. But when I really think about it, that's not what is really going on is it?

After the pain and loss of loosing his son to wild living, it appears to me that the dad doesn't really give a squat about the money the son spent. In fact the dad seems to have been doing fine considering he still had servants and land. So the dad was not angry at all about the money, but I do speculate he was hurting that his son left and was living life counter to how he was raised. I suspect there was pain and loss here because I too understand the pain and loss when your child decideds to live life defiantly and become out of control. As a parent you want to take control of the situation and make everything okay. As a mom I want to hold my baby and protect him from the world. But we all know that is just naive and unrealistic. The truth is that we all have to let our babies go when they say they want to go and live their own life. Even if that means squandering their resources on wild living? Hmmmm, I am not so sure....

As a parent you don't want to see your children suffer. You don't want to see them make poor choices that will effect them for the rest of their life. See, I did not like this dad at all. I did not like that he allowed his son to go off and live life "wildly" and then take him back so lovingly, because it made me feel that I was doing everything wrong in my own situation with my son. Not only that, but this story seemed so out of touch with reality. I mean, didn't it seem more like a fairy tale ending than anything else? I have heard of stories like this before but the son did not come to his senses. The son did not return. I have heard of stories ending with the son commiting suicide, whether intentional or not, of the son spending time in prison, of the son who continues to steal, lie and live wildly...stories ending with him NEVER coming to his senses and returning home! So again, I ask why? Why did this son come to his senses and was able to feel comfortable enough to come home?

Could it be because of his dad? Because his dad NEVER judged him, NEVER questioned him, NEVER looked at him with disgust. Was it because his dad was so caring and loving that he knew his dad would always be there NO MATTER WHAT?  And what about the idea of the dad just letting his son go with no guilt or chasing after him? The dad just waiting... hoping.... praying... that he would in fact come home. The dad must have had A LOT of faith. Faith that his son would come to his senses. Faith that everything would turn out okay. Even if there were times when it seemed so hopeless, he continued to hope, dream and live in faith that everything would be okay... even if that meant life with a broken heart, but somehow he would still be okay.

How do I know he lived this way? Did you read that part of the story? The part when it says, "But while he (the son) was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him." I can infer that the dad was looking for his son everyday because it was when the son was still a long way off that he noticed him. Everyday, the father looking at the empty space of land, watching and praying that he would see his son return. The father missing him. The father hoping he was okay. The father living life in faith regardless of how many people told him to give up. To let his son go. That his son was a menace and there was no hope for him. Everyday searching the empty land. He knew that the odds were against them. He knew most stories ended tragedly, but he kept on holding on to hope. He kept loving and praying for his son.

Oh the joy when that day arrived!! That day when he saw a long way off, a familiar face. A face full of regret, pain and suffering, but that old familiar face he still recognized none the less, and so he filled his heart with compassion! No anger. No hurt. No judgement or disgust. Only compassion. So he ran. He ran like he never ran before. His heart whole once more. His faith becomes reality.No words spoken, only threw his arms around him and kissed him!! All that was left to be done was celebrate the return of a lost child.

There are no guarntees in this life. If only there were. So we live by faith or we choose to live with negativty and resentments. There is no guarantee that my son will someday come to his senses and become the man he was destined to become. There is no guarantee that I will be around when that day comes. But let it be known that I too choose to live in faith that he will in fact, one day, come to his senses and stop living life so miserably. And if that day never comes, let it be known, that like the father in the story, I will always love him and I will always be his mother. Everyday searching the empty space of land, watching, waiting, praying and hoping....

Marriage, Fantasies and Homosexuality

Everyday life can seem so ordinary, dull and uninviting at times. Routines can get mudane and unexciting. Maybe that's why we seek the dramatic exploits of fantasy. If only we could be flithy rich and famous, or maybe some sort of inventor of some kind. Perhaps an explorer of new lands or outerspace! Oh why can't I look like Angelina Jolie and have such a rich, exciting life? Oh why can't I be like James Bond, fighting the bad guy and with a new hot chick whenever I wanted? And on and on it goes...

Constantly comparing our ordinary lives with that of fantasy. No wonder we are so unsatisfied. No wonder we end up seeking the wind.

But I wonder what would happen if we decided to answer the call of adventure that knocks at our door everyday? Everyday adventure is waiting. Everyday adventure asks to come in. But instead of inviting this precious jewel into our lives, we leave it at our door step and seek that which destroys real adventure. We seek fantasy.

Let's take a close look at a  married couple. Let's say they have been married for about five years. After a year of dating, and getting to know one another, they fell deeply in love. They couldn't wait to see each other. They wrote love letters, or poems to one another. They texted late at night, talked through out the day and they always made each other laugh. They put the needs of the other ahead of themselves and their love was growing and thriving. So they married and had a beautiful ceremony. Their first year of marriage was just like their first dating year. But as life continued to happen there seemed to be less time for those love letters and laughter became a little less. Children entered the scene and they took a lot of attention away from each other. The wife gained a few pounds after the babies, and started to show signs of aging. Husband was working hard providing for the family and started to spend more time at the "office." Not to mention the new intern was young and attractive. She laughed at all his jokes and showed genuine interest in his life. So husband began to fantasize what it would be like to be with this intern. He started to flirt with her, and she started to flirt back. Soon they began to spend more time alone together and what he once had with his wife, is now there with this young intern. So he grows more distant with his wife. That new sense of adventure is no longer there at home. It is now with living out the fantasy of this new ideal of love and romance with the young and naive intern.
Wife is frustrated and tired. She doesn't feel attractive and notices the distance from her husband. She starts drinking a little more. She begins to feel like a martyr and fantasize about what her life could have been like if she hadn't married such a jerk. She starts to work out more and begins her own career path that she dreamed of before she fell in love and had a family, so she spends less time with the kids. The kids are trying to figure out how to treck this new terrain called life, but with no guidance from mom and dad, since they are busy fulfilling their emptiness with fantasy dreams, they are guided by peers, society and media. And since mom and dad fight so much, the kids are left with a skew view about relationships and real life.
A few years later, after husband's affairs, and wife's affairs with her own fantasies, they divorced. The kids now in the middle of  custody issues, they find themselves worse off. Husband is always dissatisfied and seeking the wind. Wife constantly driven by the same wind.

This story, although fictional, is true. Our divorce rate right now is close to 60%! That means a couple has less than 50% chance of making it til death do them part. The average length of a marriage is about 6 to 7 years. Althought it is not uncommon to hear about a marriage falling apart after 20 some years. And re-marriage is worse. There is an 80% divorce rate for second and third marriages!

Why????

Well, I suppose for lots of reasons. Affairs, finances, lying, secrets, drug addictions, abuse and violence. Oh yeah, and the ever so irreconcilable differences! Which is to say, "I love you but I am not IN love with you anymore." Or  we could say, "I just hate looking at your stupid face everyday, and I just HATE the way you brush your teeth, do you have to make that annoying noise!"

I am not a relationship expert, nor is my expertise in marriage and divorce, I am just a middle school teacher. But having gone through two divorces and now in my third marriage, I have been around the block and read a few things that make me want to fight this battle. I want the world to know there is a HUGE problem here that effects us all. In fact I am tired of our society accepting the statistics as something to be tolerated and as status quo, but rather as something that should be done to protect marriage.  Why? Why should we do something about our divorce rate and save marriages? Because if we don't, then our society will cease to exist. Our communities will become extinct. Dramatic you say? Well, just look around at the 75 school shootings lately. Look at the human trafficking going on in our own back yards. Children sold into sex slavery. How many children do we see become addicted to drugs and bullying? Teen pregnancy is romanticized and so are having affairs. Destroying lives and relationships. Our communities are at threat! Slowly dissipitating...

We live in a society that no longer respects marriage. "Just because there is a goalie at the goal doesn't mean you can't score." "I am married, not dead. I can still look and have a little fun!" I have heard countless stories of married women hitting on men and being single myself for a few years, I have had married men hit on me. I have dated a man who was addicted to porn and felt no wrong in participating in strip joints. I have heard of a story of a married woman wanting to pursue a career in exotic dancing, only to end her marriage in divorce. I have one friend who refuses to marry because she doesn't trust men. She was a pole dancer and took off her clothes for money. Her number one clients were married men. I wouldn't want to marry either if that was my perception of married men.

And what about keeping up with the Jones's? You know, materialism and debt? How career and having expensive houses, clothing, cars, and exotic trips seem more important than just keeping it simple and spending quality time with your spouse and children. Number one reason for divorce is finances.

I could go on and on about the stories of failed marriages and how they came to fail, but I think you know them. You know these stories because they are your neighbors, your brothers, your co-workers, and your parents. It is a rare occasion when you hear about a couple celebrating 40 to 50 years of marriage. And those celebrations will be less and less. I will be lucky to celebrate 50 years with my cowboy unless we live to be 90 years old. When I first married I was too young and naive to understand what kind of committment I was making. I knew there was an out, so I went ahead with it. My second time around I wasn't prepared for the battles that came my way. Although I knew the man I was marrying was abusive, I thought marriage would change him. I thought I could change him. I wasn't ready. I didn't know who I was and what my purpose was. I had two kids that needed a mom and dad and I thought I was doing what was right for them.
See, I believe that as a society we don't really understand what marriage is and why it is so important. Instead our society places an importance on romance and sex. Two things that are important in marriage of course, but they are not all that make up a good quality marriage. But what is also causing such big problems in our marriages is this false idea of adventure. For our entertainment purposes, Hollywood does a fantastic job on making our ordinary lives seem dull and unimportant. Our media is shaping our thinking in believing that marriage is for suckers and real living is about living out our sexual fantasies and pursuing riches. Our media is changing the way we look at women. Women are to be nice, sweet, and beautiful. Beautiful as in skinny with fake boobs and a tight body. Men believing that sexy is a Victoria Secret model. ALL fantasy. So our ordinary bodies, with our ordinary lives seem so ugly and unsatisfying, we end up depressed, angry or just full of shame. And since we don't want to admit these truths, we hide them by seeking the fantasy life, or with other behaviors like addictions and self-serve living.

With all that going on, I would venture to say that we are in a battle. A battle that is life or death. We need to start understanding the importance of marriage and family and start respecting the ring on the finger. Why are we so animate about acting like horny 16 year olds at all times? Let us grow up a little and start enjoying the lives God gave us. Let us start killing the fantasies with our so called ordinary lives and invite the grand adventure of everyday life. What is wrong with kissing the same woman every morning as she gradually changes more and more into a mature woman? What is wrong with raising kids to be decent human beings and feeding their curiosity about the world with positive affirmations and life lessons? What is wrong with facing and admitting our problems and finding ways to work through them rather than running away or hiding? What is wrong with telling the truth with love instead of keeping secrets and lying? What is wrong with living life simply and giving back what has been generously given to us? Why must we take, take, take? Married people are not free for us to take. They are to be encouraged to love their spouse and children. We need a society who can shape our culture into what is real and important. We need to fight for our marriages and our family. Our time and place is NOW and HERE. If there is ever a great adventure to puruse, a great cause to feel excited about, let us pioneer this unkown territory!

Oh and one more thing. For those of you who believe that same-sex marriage is a threat to marriage, you are fighting the wrong battle. I know your beliefs are strong in that homosexuality is a sin and therefore they shouldn't be allowed to enter such a sacred and holy entity as marriage. But the last time I checked we still allow other sinners to enter such a blessed covenant. We allow adulterers, liars, greedy people, and divorced people to marry. Some of these sinners are also a type of sexual sin. So unless you are going to protest and ban marriage from these people too, then you are simply being discriminatory and unjust. If you really feel the need to fight for marriage then fight for marriages to have more substance and quality. Start protesting against the evils that really threaten marriage. Homosexuals who want to marry do NOT lessen or threaten my marriage. In fact it is the husband who flirts with his co-worker, or the single co-worker who flirts with her married colleague; it is the wife who keeps secrets and lies to her husband about how much money she spent the other day; it is the husband who secretly looks at the Victoria Secret magazine longing for his wife to look like that, or fantasizing about having sex with the model; it is the wife who doesn't appreciate her husband and makes him feel like dirt that threaten marriage. Maybe instead of looking at the homosexual community as a threat, you can look at them as an opportunity to grow and learn. Perhaps we have a lot to learn from them. After all, they see marriage as something to fight for. Something to embrace and enjoy. A community who, maybe, understands the adventure and excitement that marriage has to offer, that they are willing to fight this battle. Friends, take a look at your own marriages. Just becuase you are married to the opposite sex does not mean you have it right. You’ll do far more good in the defense of the sanctity of marriage by writing a love note to your spouse than you ever could by updating your Facebook status with impassioned, scripture-infused messages in an attempt to put your morals on display. Stop with the madness and start with the love.

You Will NEVER Get It Together

I would like to encourage all of you single moms out there. You will NEVER get it together, so stop trying. Stop pressuring yourself to be perfect. You will never be perfect. Stop trying to live up to an ideal that produces shame. Put down the image you created for yourself, put down the mask, and just show up. Show up with all your imperfections, all of your craziness, all of your youness!

 In the end your children only want you anyway. They don't want a perfect mom. They don't want a tired, worn out, pretending to have it together mom. They want you. All of you. Yes, ALL of you! Even with all of the mistakes, and regrets and the messiness that you have created. Your kids are going to be okay, because you are okay. You are enough, and you are giving and doing enough. Give yourself a break and stop trying so hard.

Don't let the world manipulate you into believing what makes up a good mom. Don't let other moms judge you for not living up to their standards. Their lofty looks and nasty remarks are only an indicator of their own self-value, it says nothing of your value. Don't let the "super mom" culture of this world make you feel less than because you can't do it all. All that is required from you is to love your kids. Period. Love will guide you and show you how to give your kids the best. Don't let materialism of others make you seem like you are not giving enough "stuff" to your kids. Trust me, what your kids need and what your kids want are two very differnt things. You are providing them with what they need, and when they are grown they will show you through their own lives just how grateful they were for providing what they needed (food, shelter, clothing, love and support). They will grow up remembering your time with them, not the stuff you bought them.

 It's okay to have dirty dishes in the sink. It's okay to have un-made beds, and laundry all over the floor. It's okay to have dust on your shelves and to have a pile of toys and homework in the house. Put down the image of a perfecly clean house and go play with your kid! Talk to him. Listen to her. They truly and wholly want you. Your stories. Your experiences. Your time.

Live life and your kids will learn to live life. And in life remember this:

You will NEVER get it together. So stop trying. Just show up and believe it's going to be okay!

My Biggest and Hardest Lesson In Parenting

Excerpted from Daring Greatly:

"Who we are and how we engage with the world are much stronger predictors of how our children will do than what we know about parenting.

If we want to teach our chilldren to dare greatly in this “never enough” culture, the question isn’t so much “Are you parenting the right way?” as it is: “Are you the adult that you want your child to grow up to be?”."

 

 

YES, YES, YES!!! This is the target I have been aiming at since going through my journey as a single mom. And now that we are a blended family it is still my philosphy and my mantra.

 

In my post "How My Children Will Turn Out" I explain this, but not so eloquently as Dr. Brene Brown here in her book Daring Greatly. 

 

When my children were younger I would read the latest edition of parenting books and tried their techniques to "improve" my children's behavior. I tried the naughty step, time out, and wrestled with the ever so great debate of, to spank or not to spank. Sometimes I just lost my patience and whacked their bottom. But in all reality, as my children were getting older and, as hard as it is to admit, as I was getting older too, I realized that my children's behavior should not be my biggest focus. To focus primarily on behavior led only to shame and disappointment, which resulted in strained relationships and pure exhaustion. Try placing a strong willed boy in a naughty step for two hours! Of course I want my children to behave propely and appropriately, but if all I ever did as a mom was correct them, shame them, and punish them for wrong behavior, then how could they ever develop into their true selves? How will they learn from their mistakes and understand that being human is to make mistakes and learn from them?

 

I know it is cliche to tell our children, "Do as I say, not as I do," but are we not in a sense just copping out when we say that? Or are we saying that we don't like our own behavior and we certainly don't want our children to behave like that, so we say that silly statement. I say silly because children do do what we do! The only way children really learn is through modeled behavior. As a teacher of mid-schoolers, I know the best method to teaching is to model it for them first. Same goes for parenting. If I want my child to grow up to be loving, kind and brave, I need to model that for them. How I act, and who I am as a person, does say how my own children will turn out.

I would like to add a disclosure here. I do believe it is dangerous to try and model "perfect" behavior for our children. What I mean is that sometimes we do want our children to be "better" than us, and so we will try and live out a perfectionist lifestyle. A lifestyle that promotes "be good and perfect" rather than just be.   I am not saying that our children are going to become exactly like us. No, no, no. That would be horrible wouldn't it? I mean the world only needs one of us and one of us is enough! What I am trying to say here is that our children are watching our every word, our every action and our every decision. They are learning how to live this life through the way we live ours. If we live a life pretending to be someone else, or have adopted the ideas of perfectionsim, then our children will grow up anxious, fearful, and very confused. If we live a life of being true to who we are, allowing ourselves to make mistakes and learning from them, our children will grow up accpeting, kind and with a strong sense of who they are.

As Brene Brown stated, it is NOT about the skills of parenting that matter the most, although some skill is needed. Parenting is in fact a reflection of who we really are and how we want to live our lives. Parenting is in fact the greatest gift of love ever to be concieved on this planet. I know I am not perfect and I have made some mistakes, but there is no mistake in loving my kids and living out my life the best I know how. If I am teaching my kids anything, I am teaching them to be kind, giving and that happiness is really a choice, not an outcome. If I want to teach my kids anything, I want them to learn that being your true self is enough.

Parenting is hard because we don't want to look our children's faces and see ourselves. We do want better, but in trying to achieve better, we have lost the fight of what really matters. If we want better then we need to be better ourselves. We need to show compassion, kindness and be brave. Parenting isn't a job, it's a lifestyle.

So when my children do misbehave, I will give out the appropriate consequence, but I won't shame them or continue to hold a standard that is impossibe for them to achieve. I mean, don't we all misbehave from time to time and don't we all want a little acceptance and grace when we do? Of course we all want children who behave, but in the end it's not my children's behavior that defines them or my parenting skills, but who they are as people and who I am. Messy, but loveable!

I'm Letting Go

“In some families, please is described as the magic word. In our house, however, it was sorry.” ~Margaret Laurence

 

My words were, "I forgive you whether you apologize to me or not."

 

I stated my apology and presented the olive branch. I opened the door for reconciliation.

 

Nothing has been reciprocated. No apology. No effort to reconcile a broken relationship caused by miscommunciation and hurtful words.

 

So the pain has surfaced again.

 

It was difficult to forgive the first offense. Now I am trying to forgive the second- the offense of no apology.

 

To not show any remorse or effort to reconcile the relationship somehow hurts more than the words first spoken.

 

Perhaps I put more stalk in the relationship than the other person. Perhaps I misjudged our relationship in the first place.

 

Whatever the reason for no apology, it makes me feel unimportant, empty and small.

 

Yes, I will forgive, but that does not mean I will forget, or that the feeling of insignificance will go away.

 

Friends, we are not any better than anybody else to think we have the right to not apologize. Just because someone has forgiven you, doesn't give you a free ticket to not acknowledge their pain and hurt.

 

To genuinely apologize is to not only bring healing and reconciliation, but it also says, "I acknowledge that I messed up, and I am equal with you. I am the same as you and I value you too much to let my pride get in the way of our relationship,"

 

To not apologize is to say the opposite. "I don't acknowledge you or your pain. My pride is more important than you and our relationship." To not apologize is inherently an act of conceit.

 

Here is a proufound statment about forgiveness and apologies:

 

Forgiveness is simply a reminder that I am on equal footing with every other child of God. We all do good and noble things at times; on other occasions we may offend. I have no right to judge, punish, or absolve anyone. When I behave self-righteously, I'm the one who suffers- I seperate myself from my fellow human beings... I don't know the motives or circumstances that cause another's behavior.

 

I would like to say that I forgive this person for not apologizing. I will not absolve him. It hurts and it keeps us seperated. I am sad that it has to be this way, and I hope that in the future we will have reconcilation. Until then I'm letting go.

 

Letting go of the dream of being a family with this person.

 

Letting go of my judgements and assumptions about why this person does not care about our relationship.

 

Letting go of the hurt and disappointment.

 

"You can't hold a man down without staying down with him."