Keep Walking, enjoy the view.

Circumstances are just background scenery for the journey we call life.  As we continue down the path, the scenery changes and fades.  The landscape that once seemed so prominent and right in our faces, has fused into a menagerie of colors and is in the constant process of being forged into a masterpiece that can only be seen by the Great Artist Himself.

I look back over the last several years of our stepfamily life.  All of it’s struggles, heartaches, triumphs, and learning experiences.  I see that it is not unlike any other struggle in life. 

We are always called to Love God, and Love others.  We are called to forgiveness.  We are called to be other centered.  We are called to live as Christ lived and love as Christ loved.  A tall order, yes, but not impossible, and if we allow Him, God can use this very trying and difficult road to refine us in ways that no other path could.  These are not things that we can muster up the strength and muscle our way through.  It is only through the power of the Holy Spirit and His strength that we can even desire to follow through.

I can finally say that I am truly grateful for this road.  I’ve had days where I have cursed it.  Days I would’ve given anything to trade it in, to go back in time and change the cards life had dealt us and the ones we picked up ourselves.  Then I must remind myself that my comfort and happiness is not what life is about.  These momentary struggles and trials bring about a greater purpose for my life & God’s Glory.

What use is a life that has no color?  I believe with all that I am that our pain does not go wasted in the hands of our redemptive God.  This holds true for our children too.

In stepfamilies we are called to love in deeper and more sacrificial ways than the average person.  We are challenged to forgive 70 x 7.  We have an awesome opportunity to wrestle with our flesh and seek to become better, not bitter, deep, not disgruntled, but ultimately we are offered an invitation to draw close to an Almighty God who can walk us through each step, joyous and painful.  We are offered the chance to love the hurting, and offer a cool cup of water to the broken…as these are the children living under our roof. 

As I take in the scenery, I am reminded to keep my eyes set on the horizon.  For just over that horizon is my destination- eternity with my King.  Each passing scene can draw me closer to Him or further away from deep communion with Him, and it is solely my choice.  Each step, each day draws me closer to that horizon, I get to choose what kind of shape I am in when I walk over that hill.  I am deeply convicted and challenged by this.  

Losing Loryn...Lesser things

Lesser Things… Philippians 3:8(MSG)

Yes, all the things I once thought were so important are gone from my life. Compared to the high privilege of knowing Christ Jesus as my Master, firsthand, everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant - dog dung. I've dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ

There have been days when I have seriously wondered if the tears would ever stop or the sorrow cease.  Staring into the twisted green branches being tossed about by the wind I deeply enjoyed the dance of the willow tree in the bright spring sunshine.  Soft green grass provided a cushiony bed for me to rest upon as the dog settled herself against my side.

I had meandered out to the backyard to plot out Loryn’s memory garden.  The patio resting underneath the willow would make the perfect place to write, drink coffee or visit with a friend.  Flowers would be plentiful, most suitable for cutting.  I had planned to make stepping-stones with scriptures that are speaking to me throughout this journey to be placed as a reminder of the beauty being formed out of the muck and mire.

The tender flowers would remind me of the hope I have, in having found Life in Christ.  Not in the things of this world, but in His.  Hope eternal, Hope everlasting… Hope that never dies, anticipating His return and righting of everything wrong, everything broken, hope of His person in person

.

Hope… what is hope exactly? 

According to Webster, Hope means to cherish a desire with anticipation.

In examining my heart I have to ask myself some difficult questions.  First, what is it that I am cherishing with anticipation?

In these past months I have “cherished” having a baby…  I must go then to asking. 

Should I CHERISH anything other than God, His presence in my life?  His will for my life? 

Perhaps for some it is ok to cherish things other than Him, however for me, I can hold things and people dear, I can love… but cherish?

God is a jealous God.  He asks to be the ONLY God of my life, my first love.

Honestly, my thought life has been consumed with preparing for the baby, loving the baby, all things baby…  Where did my focus shift? 

Instead of spending the majority of my time on studying scripture or lifting others in prayers to Him, I became more focused on studying pinterest for the latest baby ideas or recipes.

Anything I spend more time reflecting or working on above knowing, loving and serving God is an idol.  Ouch, a difficult realization to come to.

It would be different if I were bringing God into the moment.  Not that I didn’t do this, I just see that wanted my way more than I wanted His.  I wanted this baby more than I wanted whatever He was going to allow to sift through His hands and into my life. 

I’m sorry this is ugly truth to read, and some of you may think less of me after this, however, it is of more importance to bring truth in struggling closer to God than to make everyone feel comfortable.  I think we all have a tendency to want our will above His to some degree- or at least have moments of frustration when things don’t go according to our plan or we don’t receive the desired outcome… right?  Haven’t you ever sat and pouted angrily when life throws you a curve?  Be honest with yourself… and God- it’s not like He doesn’t already know!  If you’re feeling defensive- ask yourself why?

In this journey, I believe God is asking me to examine where I spend my time, how I spend my thoughts, what do I give my energy to?  Is He in first place?  Am I embracing Him above ALL else? 

In recent days I have found that the more time I spend Embracing Him, I have peace in the midst of pain, I have strength in the midst of struggle, and Hope that exists above happy circumstances.

Philippians 3:8(MSG)

Yes, all the things I once thought were so important are gone from my life. Compared to the high privilege of knowing Christ Jesus as my Master, firsthand, everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant - dog dung. I've dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ

Losing Loryn...

“Do you trust me?”  I drove on silently through the city streets.  Again, I heard that gentle quiet voice… “Do you trust me?”  My heart raced as I shuffled through the endless possible outcomes of todays ultrasound. 

The doctor said everything looked great last week.  Just a little behind where we thought I should be at this point of the pregnancy.  He stated there was no reason to be alarmed really; growth was just a little behind… perhaps my dates were off.  I knew they weren’t.  We’d been trying to conceive for several months now.  I knew everyday of my cycle like the back of my hand.  I had faithfully kept track of my body temperature, my mood swings, physical side effects during certain portions of my cycle.  I even knew when I ovulated that month.

“Do you trust me?”  I looked toward the sky and mustered a soft, “Yes Lord, I am determined to trust you no matter what.”  Deep inside I just knew.  I knew that something out of my control was about to happen.  Breathing deep I pressed on toward the office to see what , if anything, had developed in the previous week.

Only four days of development.  No heartbeat.  Not a good pregnancy.  In the words of the ultrasound tech… “You’re not going to keep this one.”  My heart sunk and a large lump swelled in my throat.  I watched tears fill my sweet husbands eyes as he stared at the ultrasound screen.  They wanted to do a D&C the next day.  I opted to wait one more week to see… four days of development was better than none.  I love and serve a God who works miracles.  This was our miracle baby…surely…

I ached.  I cried.  I sang…  Through my tears I sang in the shower…

“Oh no, you never let go through the calm and through the storm…Oh No, You never let go, every high and every low…Oh no You never let go…Lord You never let go of me.”

The water began to chill causing me to shiver.

“Blessed be your name on the road marked with suffering, though there’s pain in the offering…Blessed be your name.”

Wrapped in a soft white cotton towel I forced more sound out of my soul.

“His eye is on the sparrow…and I know He watches over me…”

 The voice I heard singing sounded foreign.  Some weary, broken soul who could barely carry a tune, pathetically singing in the shower…  it was raw…it was agonizing… it was real.

My prayers turned from begging God to help our little one to one much like my Lord prayed… “ Not my will, but Your will be done Father.”  Deep inside, I was screaming “Please!  Oh God!  Please!  Don’t make me walk this road!”

My head in my hands each morning, tears streaming down my face and onto the pages of my Bible as I read through my devotions praying for answers and longing for comfort… all about trust, all referencing waiting.  I knew God was speaking.

This baby held hope for us, a new beginning.  This was the one that would be “Ours”.  No one else to share this baby with.  No other homes.  No divided loyalties.  We would always have someone home for Christmas and holidays, no dividing of time or hearts here…  Our baby partly signified our love for God and for each other.  This baby would bring blood bonds to our family, a piece of each of us, which meant part of our kids as well…no step… a part of blood relation.   A piece to our puzzle in Stepville.

The labor had been intense.  Six hours of contractions and pushing… not what I had expected when I was told that I would more than likely miscarry.  I knew the precise moment it was finished.  I felt as though life had left my body.  Empty and unable to put verbiage to the carnage I felt physically, I trembled in fear and disbelief.  Staring wide into the eyes of my beloved husband I looked for something that would fix it.  There was no fix.  Hope forsaken.  No more prayers to be said for this little life that we had hoped, planned and prayed for.  Dream filled hearts were now broken, abandon and empty.  A ghost town of what resembled faith was all that was left. 

I cried out as I stared terrified into the face of my husband.  My sweet love embraced me as I sat sobbing and screaming on the toilet.  His sobs could be heard just under mine. 

Visions of kissing sweet little toes and fingers passed through my hands and were swept away into a large blackened sea.  Giggles and chasing through the house disappeared into a wind of desolation. 

The dream was over.  Hope was gone.  Life had left me.  Empty.

No baby to hold.  No cheeks to kiss.  No tiny hands to hold or feet to tickle.  No little one to take into my lap or place on my breast.  Just a hole where there was supposed to be a life remained.

Waves of despair passed through moments of anger pummeling me into a pit of brokenness.  How can the finite mind wrap itself around infinite purposes?  How can one who is nearly blind see the vast expanse of God’s Glory or plan?

I’d been through enough fire and nearly drown in enough storms to know that the “why?”  question is futile to ponder longer than a moment. 

So I lay there staring blankly at the flowering buds on the tree outside my bedroom window.  Longing for my sweet flower Loryn to be in my arms.  Stinging tears clouded my eyes, exhausted physically, emotionally and spiritually I sobbed and longed to touch her sweet face.  Tired of the fight, my aching clenched fist fell open and so did my heart.

“Okay God…okay… I wont ask why…I ask what… What am I to take from this?  What will you show me in this?  What can I learn?”

The upcoming blogs will focus on those things that He has and is teaching me through this journey of loss. 

I pray your heart is blessed.  I pray that you will be encouraged to ask “what?”  Instead of “Why?”…  To embrace the “Who” of Who He was Who He is, and Who He will continue to be… regardless of our circumstances.

swords, shields and dogs on the couch

Swords drawn, I peered over the top of my cold metal shield.  Ready for battle I postured myself and planted my feet.  Enough was enough.  I dug in my heels not willing to back down, my heart pounding heavily in my chest.  I was furious at the latest insult and disrespect.  I was tired of the endless games.  Tired of feeling like I was not being heard, or cared for in the way I felt I needed.  I was ready to fight for my “rights”.

Pulling the dog onto the chaise with me (a serious no-no in our house), I stiffened my upper lip feeling good in the midst of my open rebellion.

“I thought Lucy wasn’t allowed on the couch?”  Our son curiously asked.

“Yep.  I’m breaking a house rule.  Ask me if I care.”  

I glared over at my husband who had been the main offender that evening.  What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, right?  If everyone else in this so-called family was operating under what they wanted and how they felt…I might as well too.  Wow, what a Christ-like example!

I sat there fuming during the family meeting.  Poisonous self-talk began flooding my heart and mind.  Family, what family?  I recalled the photo collages I hung in the hallway of our home… I nearly gagged at the deception of the picture of one big happy family.  Big, yes…happy?  Some people were …I was not, and hadn’t been for some time.  I felt as though I had been screaming at the top of my lungs and nothing was really getting better… I was bitter.  Oh that tiny root that so easily springs up before we know it.  I felt as though my husband was deaf to my cries.  He was not coming through for me.  I was angry and tired as I ran over the multiple offenses, painful and damaging that went undealt with.

Blatantly disrespecting my husband in front of the children, I huffed, I sighed, and shoot- I even rolled my eyes like a 13 year old.  I’m ashamed to say and admit it out loud, but I did it.  I am all about being honest and being known so here it is, like it is.  I share this, because it’s real…and maybe you haven’t been this out with it- but come on, be honest- flesh is flesh…and we ALL have to deal with it!

I could give a zillion reasons why I had “rights” to do this… wow, that sounds like a mature believing woman doesn’t it?   My stomach churns at the very thought of my behavior as I recall it.

A call for JUSTICE!  How unfair!  How wrong!  Was some of what I’ve endured unjust and wrong, even sinful?  Absolutely.  My heart was completely wrong and un-Christ like.

So to describe a day in the life of a Smom/wife that is fed up and feeding on her flesh instead of Christ… one word… UGLY.  There was no sweetness of spirit here.  No kind, loving words given.  Truth perhaps, but most certainly not told in love.  And the motivation was not other centered…It was all on my favorite person in that moment. Me…me…me!

After another sharp comment uttered under my breath my husband (who was fumingly angry with me) turned his head and glared into my eyes.  It was nearly more than I could bear seeing how there was a lot of pent up hurt behind my anger.  I sat there nearly stunned as he gave me permission to give voice to all of my frustrations that had come to a festering boil over the last two years.

Funny, at first I really didn’t know what to say.  I honestly couldn’t think of where to begin.  The offenses were many and the time was short- I knew they couldn’t listen all night as I rallied over the last two years of insults I had saved in my file of wrongs committed. 

I thought of the countless Stepmoms out there that would give their most favorite appendage to have such an opportunity.  I wanted to scream, throw things, swear, spit nails (wouldn’t that be a cool ability?).  I wanted to stand up for the millions of stepmothers everywhere who had gotten a bad rap, the short end of the stick, been repeatedly kicked like an unwanted dog, used as the scapegoat...TAWANDA!!!!! 

I wanted to be heard.  I wanted the war to end.  I want my husband to claim unity for us and fight for his wife…  I longed for my knight.  I longed to be publicly crowned queen in this castle, forsaking all others. 

I had done my homework on God’s framework for family. 

1- God

2- Husband

3- Wife

4- Children

5- the Outsiders/outside ministry

God is a God of balance.   He orders and creates order.  When this is out of place, life gets out of place.  People are hurt, children run amuck, and sin is committed.

The statistics are alarmingly high for divorce in second marriages with children involved.  Why?

A.    God hates divorce (that’s another blog as to why and how much I see now exactly why!)

B.    Family framework as God designed it gets messed up. 

In most cases a spouse left, either all together or they separated, leaving the other holding the pieces of the family together.  The children often are elevated to be the center of the home, or into the spouses’ former position.  OR perhaps they were always at the center of the home, instead of God… which may very well be why the spouse left in the first place.

Sadly, the scripture does not talk about where the other parents are in the hierarchy of the home… when the bond is severed- where do they go?  Other than under your skin like an infectious itchy disease that wont go away?

They are not in our home, so I see them as outsiders/outside ministry.  Still part of the framework…but NOT inside the FRAME!! 

So I spewed.  I honestly can’t remember what I said exactly, just that I knew I felt better once it was out.  They all responded well, except for my husband. 

We ended up staying up until 2am working it out and apologizing to one another…can’t say that I felt much better by the end, but it’s scriptural, and I wasn’t fuming and neither was he.

I prayed throughout the next day.  I was seriously convicted.  So I decided that I would fix his favorite dinner and make my Public service announcement.  

His biggest issue was that I was disrespectful in front of the children.  I heard him…men need respect like they need air (think that’s a John Eldredge thing).  I get it, just like I need love and to be fought for.

My issues are long and complex in what my offenses have been and continue to be, but that isn’t what is important here.  At the end of the day, I will not be held accountable for anyone but me.  There will be no excuses for my sin.   I will have to give an account…alone.

“I need to say something about last night.”  I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.  I was surprised at my nerves.  I nearly made something else up just to avoid eating crow.  I was truly repentant.  I sinned in public- God showed me I needed to repent in public.

“ I need to apologize to dad in front of all of you.  I was grossly disrespectful to him.  I sinned against God because He has called me to respect and submit to my husband.  I sinned against dad because I did not love him well.  I sinned against you by not being a good example in teaching respect toward dad.”

They all responded pretty well, verbalizing forgiveness and asking more questions.

Dave then decided he would return the apologies. 

It gave us the opportunity to give the kids a vision of working through issues without leaving.  I pray that years from now they will remember that night.  Not because of the Hiroshima (what we now call a big blow up in our house).  But because we worked together to bring peace and unity to our family… Crowning God as King of our castle!

Fences, Hedges, and Other Boundaries

I could hear the buzz of the cell phone from within my husband’s coat pocket.  Headed on the passenger train to newly wedded bliss we were entering the heart of Chicago-land. 

“Who is it?”  I asked curiously.

With a soft kiss he said, “I don’t know, I’m not answering it right now- we’re on our honeymoon.  This is you and me time.” 

I smiled reveling at the thought of how he valued us.

Within two minutes the phone was buzzing again.

Dismayed I sighed, “Apparently, someone wants to get ahold of you. You’d better check to see if it is one of the kids.”

With a grunt, he pulled out his iPhone and checked the number. 

The look on his face said it all.  It was the ex-wife.

“ Gaahhh!  What on earth could she want?  I’m not calling her.  For cryin’ out loud!  I’m on my honeymoon.”

She knew we were on our honeymoon.

Placing the phone up to his ear trying to listen to the voicemail, he plugged the other to block out the noisy train.  I watched his facial expressions intently as to try and decipher what the urgent message was.

“So…?”  I asked inquisitively.

“So…she’s ticked I didn’t pick up the phone.  Only said she needed to discuss something urgent regarding our son.” Angrily, he looked out the window and shook his head.

“You’d better call her back or she’ll just keep calling all weekend.”  My heart shuddered at the thought.

We departed the train and headed for the great hall.  Beautiful in all of its grandeur, we weren’t given more than a moment to enjoy it before his phone buzzed again.  We settled our luggage on one of the famous wooden bench pews.  I kicked up my feet on my overnighter and watched on as my hubby pulled out his cell to see what the grand emergency was.  There was no emergency.

 

I spent the next 15 minutes in the middle of the famous Union Station sitting on a cold wooden bench while my husband hashed things out with his ex-wife.  She wouldn’t tell him why she called because he didn’t pick up her call right away.  In tears I waited for him to come back to me.  It was only the beginning of a long road that stretched out ahead for us… for me. 

To this day we still do not know what it was that she so desperately needed to converse with my sweet husband about.

I knew that it was just a reminder to him that she still existed.  She wanted to see if she could still control him as she had in the past, she wanted to see if he would still be at her beckon call.  Even though she was the cheater- it killed her to think that he could be happy with someone else and was moving on, leaving her behind. 

I’ve spent countless hours in conversation with other women who have been and are still dealing with the same issues.  The rings go on and the gloves come off.  Doesn’t matter who cheated on who, who filed and who didn’t, the battle is the same.  And it can be brutal to the new marriage if good strong boundaries aren’t set right away.

Endless texts, phone calls, and requests to come help with things around the house were put to a halt. The pouting cries of  “I just want to be able to discuss how I feel about what is going on with the kids with you.”  Were screamed repeatedly, pounded into the skids, making us look like we were wrong for setting boundaries. 

We even were confronted by one of the kids for DH (dear husband) not going over to their mother’s house to help with maintenance and computer issues.  She had inappropriately shared her frustrations with the kids, making us look like the bad guys.  This led to discussion, processing, and difficulty explaining healthy boundaries within divorce… too much for a teenager to handle, but another had opened the door and it needed to be closed and then covered that it was not something they needed to concern themselves with.

We actively sought out counsel in this situation.  We were repeatedly encouraged to throw out the stepfamily books and make this life our own, prayerfully considering everything. 

Communication about the facts in a situation is one thing, emotions and processing is another.  The problem is, that it is inappropriate to emote with anyone of the opposite sex on a one to one level without inclusion of the spouse.  This is dangerous to a marriage, and the union must be protected at all costs. 

Each situation is unique to how to build the boundaries.  These are some of the hedges of protection we set up.

We set up an email account accessible to both of us to correspond with the ex’s.  We each would construct the communication, but brought the other in for ideas and suggestions as neutral parties.  At times, things have gotten so heated we’ve had the need for the other to respond completely- this has helped put out a lot of fires.  Funny, when his ex realizes it’s me that is communicating- she loses interest right away and the games stop. 

This was a crucial step for several reasons.  Our ex-spouses needed to realize that my husband and I are one flesh all is shared between us.  Also, the fact that we both had marriages that ended due to the spouse’s infidelity, we saw the need to protect our marriage.  They had no respect for marriage previously, why would they respect our marriage? 

We were dead on when it came to the disregarding of our union.  From a slipped handwritten note, inappropriate relating and comments, we have seen the battle in full force. 

At first, just as the counselor had warned us, they really had a lot of tantrums over the communication- or they would say, “lack thereof”.  The boundaries are intact, and it seems as though they have come to respect our need for space and minimal communication.  Our children are all in the mid to late teens and there really is no need for excessive banter at this point.  They are capable of managing schedules and our house is our house- the other house we have little to do with.

No face-to-face time, texts or phone calls…

There is no texting or phone calls unless someone is bleeding and they're en route to the hospital.  Our phones are private, only for use between us.  The beauty of taking the phones out of the equation is that there is no room for the he said / she said game.  No space for misunderstanding, what is written, is there in black and white.  This offers full accountability.  On more than one occasion this has helped us in repeating situations that they would prefer to warp.  It aids legally when they agree to certain things and then don’t stick with the agreement.  It also helps eliminate the feeling of “another woman or another man”.

Our home is our home…

They are not welcome to enter our home without our permission.  I know that sounds somewhat like a no-brainer.  It wasn’t in the early days.  Previously, they both would come to the door to collect our teenage children and their luggage.  This led to some of the inappropriate communication and interludes.  In one instance, his ex took paper off my desk to slip a note to DSD (dear step-daughter) while we were not there.  She came into my house without me there.  I was constantly feeling invaded.  Going into the ex’s house only gave opportunity for the ex to corner my husband and try to control him… he was pretty blind toward the manipulation until more recently.  Exes have no rights in our home…no more than if our children were staying the night in a friends house.  The only right they have is to know that the home is safe and the children’s needs are being met.  This does not take an inside tour to see.

It was crucial that my husband and I have OUR space.  A place that is NOT shared with our ex spouses whenever they seem to want to invade.

This has not been an easy road.  It has not been easy to lay down the boundary lines that we have, but with prayer and God’s vision for our family, we have made it.  It has made all of the difference in the world.