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.

Hindsight 20/20?

"Why did you guys get married so quick?"  Slight frustration clearly expressed on how difficult it had been this last year and comparing how much "easier" it was before we were all together under one roof. An open conversation at our kitchen table.  Not uncommon, nothing unusual about it for our house.  A lot of questions like this one have been presented and sifted through.

I shifted somewhat uncomfortably in my seat, as I had been asking myself the same question for the last 12 months.  I had been staring myself in the mirror asking, "Why on earth didn't we wait?!  We would've never had all of the heartache, the hurt feelings, the backstabbing, damage.  I had been through enough difficulty for a lifetime...why did I walk into a situation where there was a deadly storm already brewing?"  It wasn't like I hadn't been repeatedly warned.  The issues of difficult relating, and dealing with ex-spouses had thrown my blind trust in God's direction for us to marry into a tailspin. 


What I wanted to say was that this has been no picnic for me either.


They were such a mess when I came on the scene, we were all a mess.  Their relating was disastrous, and dysfunctional, at best.  I observed hurting, damaged people in scattered pieces due to divorce and years of painful functioning.  Anger, pain, and torment both in the children and in the man who would become my husband.


We, on the other hand were just walking away from a bomb blowing up our family.  There was little warning to the kids.  They did not see the years of neglect and abandonment in the marriage.  The countless texts and cell phone calls between their father and his "friends".  One day we were a complete family who attended church, dad worked a lot, but by all appearances, we were together.  The next day an explosion occurred that ripped apart the framework of their stability...their family.  Shell shocked and spinning still from the pain, my children stumbled around questioning everything from where they were going to live now, to their faith in the existence of a God who loved them.


I listened as this teenager talked of how it seemed easier when we weren't together.  I prayed.  I hurt because once again I felt as though I was the one who made their world worse.  I felt like I was not wanted there, again.  Reality is that their world was a mess.  They refuse to remember how it truly was.  Either way, their perception has once again left me in a place of rejection.  I formed the answer carefully in my mind. I pleaded with God to speak wisdom and love through my mouth...not an easy task!  


Dave was the man that I had longed to be married to all of my life.  Godly, kind, gentle, loving, affectionate, smart, handsome, fun, I could on forever, but mostly, he loves the Lord.  I knew what I wanted in a spouse- he was it.  We were two people who had teenagers with difficulties and we couldn't raise them alone.  I knew Dave's answer would be similar.


One thing we did agree on in hindsight is that there should've been some family counseling prior to the wedding- even if by appearances there was no need for any.  The children were all seemingly on board and excited about our marriage.  It wasn't until 6 months into it that certain members began having outward issues with the union.  We openly admitted that it was a mistake on our part to not have the entire family go through counseling together.  Admitting you've made a mistake to a teen who thinks they have the corner on knowledge is not an easy thing, but important.  The opportunity to extend grace, forgiveness, and understanding gives the chance to grow deeper, stronger, and closer together.


Perhaps the most difficult thing is watching your teens think that they are the only ones who have hurt or have been affected.  They don't understand the years that we went through not being loved, or even liked.  The nights we cried ourselves to sleep because of the neglect, betrayal and constant rejection.  The years we spent trying to fight for and save the marriage.  They don't realize yet that we, as parents have feelings and a life to live too. 


I've heard the argument "you're an adult. they're just kids."  I understand the depths and damage to kids in this, I really do.  Yet I know that if I didn't have the spouse that I have today, I would not be the mother that I am today, I would not be the woman I am today, I finally live in the place I was created to.  Fully accepted for who I truly am, even loved and admired for it.    I am better than I would be than if I had stayed a single mom.  I am a better parent.  My son has a wonderful, Christian, godly man to model after.  


Allowing kids to idealize and hang on to the hope that mom and dad will get back together, or wallow in their grief, doesn't help anyone move forward.  I've spoken with women in their 30's and 40's that still have issues with their parents dating and remarrying.  No matter how many years would pass between the divorce and moving on, there would be issues.


Life has some painful things that it can throw your way.  Everyone has their painful events.  Truth is we are all grieving.  It was like yesterday we sat in our driveway, tears streaming down our faces, I explained to my step-daughter that this is not what we had envisioned for either of our families.  I went on to explain that ideally, the original families would still be together.  But, here we are.  Grieving is a process, but wallowing in it is a different story.  Living in a false reality of what was is not healthy either. Truth must abound in all things, even if it is painful to recall.  Those rocky moments make us better if we allow them. 


Even though not ideal, they now have the fortunate benefit of seeing a healthy marriage. They can experience two people who love them, stability that comes from two parents who love God more than anything.  They observe our healthy relating in full operation from day to day.  Adjustments?  Yes, many.  But for everyone, not just one or two people.  


Too often we digress to our selfish thinking that we were the only ones affected by all that has happened.  Each one of us carries the luggage that comes with walking the road that we are on.  Luggage is lighter when we cling to Almighty God, and offer to help each other carry the bags... together.

Shampoo Sobs and Showers of Blessing

Tears mixed with hair conditioner fell in a steady stream and collected on the floor of the shower.  On my hands and knees, I found myself in the most desperate of places.  Drifting somewhere between anger and feeling abandoned, I cried out to God.  As I kneeled there I questioned how many other women have been in this very same position, sobbing uncontrollably, hoping the sound of the showerhead would muffle the resonance of utter despair.

Grieving seems like a natural part of stepfamily living.  It offers us a front row seat in the audience of brokenness.  Broken marriages, broken families, broken kids, broken homes, broke finances, and broken relating.  It plays out before us in Oscar award winning fashion as the stage consumes all of us as its players.  So I find myself repeatedly grieving all that is, all that we all have lost, and yes, sometimes it’s done under a steamy current of water and body wash.  Try as I might the warm water doesn’t wash away the issues or cleanse me from the sadness of broken relating, or broken issues.

I grieve white lace and promises, coming to the realization that living on love simply would never be enough in this land of Stepville.  I know it’s silly, it’s not like I had completely allowed myself to live under the illusion that would be the case.  Still, the romantic (and sinful) woman in me longs to believe that our love would be strong enough to weather any storm on it’s own (ultimately that is a statement that cries- that we wouldn’t need God’s help-youch).    I know that after what we have weathered in the last year, if it weren’t for God Himself, we would’ve thrown in the towel and walked away from it all.  I can say that now I fully understand the importance of having God at the center and as the foundation of your marriage.  Reality is, our love for God has to be the strength and provision to weather any storm.  His arms must be the arms that bind us together in the midst of the weather.

Still, I rebel against my need for Creator God.  Silly, I thought I had completely resolved the fact that I need Him in ALL THINGS.  As I honestly face myself in the steamy shower I come to realization that in this area I am resisting the fact that I need Him.  I am SUPER MOM/ SUPER STEP MOM…I leap car pools in a single bound, whip up dinner for 12 on 2 lbs of hamburger, and tend to the needs of all those around me, I am stellar at good ideas and organizing picking up and dropping off, parties, senior pictures and do magic on a limited budget!  For crying out loud!  Why can’t I fix people who don’t like me, don’t want me here, work against me?  How is it that I can’t make the blind to manipulation see?  Cause the lame in relating, to walk?  …Sounds like super girl has her cape in a bunch and it’s going to hang her if she doesn’t get down on her knees!  Sounds like someone got a little big for her britches and “Charlie” is calling His “Angel” to remember who is in charge!  There is NO master plan without THE MASTER!

I lean my head against the shower stall and I continue with the sobs, and beginning to feel sorry for myself, grieving the loss and lack of the bonds of blood and the bonds of love.  Blood thicker than water?  Oil and water separate no matter how hard you try to mix them together. Blended family?  Really? We use the word “blended”? I did find some peace in reading the other day that even though a biological bond and original familial intimacy will never be possible with my stepchildren; God can create a love bond and intimacy through Him.  Completely missing that God has been busy doing just that I sigh a heavy sigh wondering if it could really happen.  Learning and leaning the midst of all of that process is tricky and difficult.  I pray, “Dear God, please throw me a flipping bone!!...I wait…silence…I cry… silence…then it comes without warning, the memory of just two days earlier…

The taillights illuminated the freeway and the steady bass beat pulsated the Bose speakers, I cranked the volume a little higher until I felt my legs vibrating and grinned at my stepson.  “We may as well enjoy the Bose speakers while we have them.”  We drove onward toward home just he and I.  He had been my companion for the weekend.  We laughed, shared, and made memories. He even stood on his chair as I was introduced during a worship service that I was singing at, clapping and cheering- I sensed that he actually was proud to know me!

He reached over and turned the volume down.  “You’re a really great step mom, and I am really glad that you are in my life.”  My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest, much like it felt when his dad asked me if he could see me exclusively.  He may never know how much I longed to hear that, how much I needed that, or what it meant to hear it on that night, and know that he meant it.  He may never know how I thought of what he said as I wept on the floor of the shower questioning if I had the strength to carry on. 

A God sized love bond created.

 I sigh and turn the water off, wiping my face, unsure if it’s water or tears.  I repent realizing my childish behavior and rebellion. And hear a gentle- “That’s enough now”

I come to the decision as I clean the drain of unruly hair that when I succumb to shower sobbing and hair condition crying I would limit myself to the point of prune-like skin, quit, take a deep breath and walk on, leaving the despair in the shower and devising a godly plan by the time I am dry. 

 It isn’t easy spotting the “bones” in Stepville.  I am by nature; I’m going to put this in a more flattering term, a melancholy realist (okay, I just tend to focus on the more negative side of things!).  But God does give us gifts along the way.  Most of the time I am so wrapped up in where I have been wronged that I miss the fact that God just isn’t necessarily working in that particular area!  He is ALWAYS working!  He only rests on the seventh day, right?  The day of completion?  He will not rest until we are restored!  In the meantime, we are called to seek out and look for the blessings no matter how small.  Whether it is a kind look, respectful attitude, a chore well done, or a teeny compliment.  These are the bones that He throws us so we can hear Him say “Hey- I’m still here…and I got this.” 

Philipians 1:6

I’m convinced that God, who began a good work in you, will carry it through to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. 

Strengthening the love and trust muscles...

“It’s a thankless job, Beck.  You give your heart out, and the biological mom gets all of the kudos.”  She popped another red raspberry in her mouth and took a sip of her wine.  My heart aligned in saddened agreement, and I shoved another piece of dark chocolate into my mouth like an Ibuprofen.

As our conversation continued, I came to the realization that no matter where you are in life, profession, stage, number of kids, experience, there is a struggle when you choose to enter into the land of Stepville.

“They had never learned how to study, I taught them.  I taught her how to ride her bike, tie her shoes, wash her hair…and she gives her biological mom all of the credit.”  Tears filling her eyes, I knew how she felt.  Recalling a sunny afternoon nearly throwing my back out trying to teach my stepdaughter how to complete a round off to encourage her tumbling skills for cheerleading.

It is like pouring water into a well that can never be filled completely, then having them thank someone who never lifted the bucket to fill it…or they spit the water back at you and chide you for ever trying to fill it in the first place.

My heart sunk in the reality of it.  You can love your stepchildren, give your heart out, put your heart out, but in the end the reality is that they will never deeply love you or want you there. Their longing will always be for their original family, and for you to be out of the picture.  It isn’t anything personal; you just aren’t the person they long for to be in that position.  So instead of being angry and rude to the ones that caused the situation. Avoiding putting the responsibility of the damage and pain on the catalyst or catalysts who placed them in the position of having a stepfamily, they throw it all on the newcomer. 

I felt as though I was receiving all of the anger, frustration, and fury of children scorned in the divorce.  I felt like the dog that was easy to kick.  From critiques on my cooking, disapproval on my housekeeping, and constantly being compared to their biological mom, to downright cruelty- I have lived it.  I have felt like a stranger and an outsider in my own home.  Living in fear of doing anything that may cause upset, or discomfort, I began to shrink into a shell of quiet protection…and I started to become angry myself, resentment and bitterness began to creep in.  I had unconsciously set in motion my own death.  Longing and living to make these children happy, caving into their desires, giving them the excuses of their pain and what they had been through to feed the behavior.  I proceeded to cautiously walk on eggshells, to the point of not wanting to sit down and play the piano and sing for fear that they would either make fun of me, be annoyed, or complain. 

The truth is, it wouldn’t matter if I were a Grammy winning singer/songwriter, a master chef, or could fly like peter pan, I would never measure up.  I am not their biological mom.

I have watched the most godly, Christ-centered women struggle through this mess in Stepville.  We didn’t birth these children, but as Christ centered women, we know that we are called to love them well, and nurture them.  They have come under our covering, living in our “nest”.  Deep in our hearts, we know that we cannot be biological mother, yet we long to mother and nurture them as if we were. 

I have lain awake sobbing many nights grieving the fact that, once again, I live in a house where someone doesn’t want me there.  This strikes an old wound, the wound of rejection.

Learning to accept that this is the way it will always be is the hard part.  Learning to accept the things we cannot change and change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference (Thank you St. Fran) is still something that my tendency toward perfectionism wrestles out daily.  Being made in the image of a perfect God we long for that perfection, only to have it elude us time and time again.  Perfection is only found in His character and sovereignty this side of heaven.  Everything…everything else is broken.

I find that deep in my heart I still have that longing to have a whole family, restored.  An original family, no ex-in-laws, no yours and mine...just us.  Reality is, we are a broken home.  We live under a roof of people who are broken both by their own choices and the choices of others. 

Sounds hopeless.  Again, it’s not.  Continually, we most hold to the truth that our God’s character and drive is about redemption, and restoration.  As we read through the scriptures, we see that every character has that same story.  Broken life, God steps in, quietly pursues, our acceptance of the pursuit, redemption, restoration, refining, restoration, calling, blessing, refinement, restoration…  He is constantly refining and restoring us.  Stepville is just another tool that He uses for refinement.

So…what to do when you live this day in and day out?  How do you survive?  I don’t have the answers…but we know The Answer.  As in any other situation, we turn to our God and cling.  We cry out to Him, whine to him (only 5 minutes allowed!), we wait… we listen.  Diving into His word, and His character we find how he is calling us to live in this moment. 

We live for Him, not for anyone else.  We live to please Him, and do things that are pleasing to Him.  Sometimes this looks like laying down your life, sometimes it is permeable wall where love can flow out, but daggers cannot come through.  He is the ultimate guide. He longs to walk with us through this.  He relishes the opportunity to navigate with us, and even carry us through the dark, murky, muddy spots.

We lean into our trust muscle, as we look to Him in all things, good and difficult.  We trust Him to keep us, heal us, grow us, and give us His peace in the process in a recurrent manner. We can trust Him even in this to work all things together for our good and His glory.

'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus,

            and to take him at his word;

            just to rest upon his promise,

            and to know, "Thus saith the Lord."

Refrain:

            Jesus, Jesus, how I trust him!

            How I've proved him o'er and o'er!

            Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!

            O for grace to trust him more!

2.            O how sweet to trust in Jesus,

            just to trust his cleansing blood;

            and in simple faith to plunge me

            neath the healing, cleansing flood! 

3.            Yes, 'tis sweet to trust in Jesus,

            just from sin and self to cease;

            just from Jesus simply taking

            life and rest, and joy and peace.

4.            I'm so glad I learned to trust thee,

            precious Jesus, Savior, friend;

            and I know that thou art with me,

            wilt be with me to the end.

           

As we learn to trust Him in our circumstances, in our joys, our pains, as we become skilled at relying on that trust and leaning into God’s sovereignty over all, we find strength and a contentment we cant find anywhere else. 

In His strength, in His wisdom, Walking with Him through this land of Stepville, we find the ability to take it one day at a time.