 Sometimes, you’ll tune into a podcast, a sermon, a song, a poem or a story, and you will be surprised by tears. And as those tears wet your tender cheeks, you will realize you’ve been sad, sad, sad, for so very long. When my son was battling cancer, I rarely cried. This is because I wanted to face the evil disease. I wanted to fight it. One day, when we were all at home resting between treatments, I read a Facebook post about another boy my son’s age passing away from the same type of cancer. My tears were instantaneous. I could cry for that little boy and his grieving mother, I could feel all the shock and horror, for her, but I had been scooping all the same feelings for myself to the side, out of range. I believe this was my body’s way of coping with a trauma powerful enough to break me. I’m grateful for that moment of grieving; like a mirror, it forced me to see all of me. I didn’t realize until a few weeks ago that I had been subconsciously-not-seeing heaps of personal grief over the breakdown of my former faith: I was listening to a message given by Sarah Bessey at the 2020 Evolving Faith conference and her words brought a sudden flow of tears. And it wasn’t just grief I’d been holding; it was also pain, and hurt. Realizing I’ve been grieving, well, I think that’s why I’ve felt so dead on the inside- because though I was grieving, I didn’t own it. I was living numb to my pain. Brene Brown says, “You can't numb those hard feelings without numbing the other affects, our emotions. You cannot selectively numb. So when we numb those, we numb joy, we numb gratitude, we numb happiness. And then we are miserable, and we are looking for purpose and meaning, and then we feel vulnerable, so then we have a couple of beers and a banana nut muffin. And it becomes this dangerous cycle.” As I’ve begun to allow grief, I’ve felt a lightness in my soul; there were just too many things hidden there, tucked away, haunting and taunting and clinging, little vampires suckling my soul. Like, I didn’t realize how hurt I was that the faith which had promised hope, sustenance and unconditional love to all had fallen short. You know Jesus? The one who hung out with sinners so much he was accused of all sorts of sordid behavior? Why had my faith painted that Jesus as some sort of ornate emblem of white male perfection? That Jesus really didn’t care about the hurting, the homeless, the rejected and the weak. He cared about being good and perfect and about being God’s son. He cared about WHAT we believed more than about HOW our belief worked itself out. He cared all about the FUTURE and the PAST, but not at all about the present. He cared about whether or not we believed the right things; nothing else mattered. (But wasn’t that sticklerishness for knowing all the things what Jesus was so pissed at the Pharisees about?) He separated people into “you’re in” and “you’re out”; he was the same as God but he also had to martyr his body to appease his angry father-God. Also, he hated queer people even though they loved him and wanted him to love them. That Jesus brought no hope or healing, held no love. I was deeply wounded by him. And quite frankly, I was pissed, at him. How could he say something like, that he did not come to condemn the world, but then turn around and condemn anyone who didn’t believe in Him, and, also, anyone who identified as LGBTQ+? That Jesus condemned hypocrisy whilst asking his own dear children not to be completely themselves. What a fucking liar! Jesus, God, love, embodied, condemning so many people to a literal living hell on earth. Yah, I was pissed, but really I was sad, and wounded too. I felt so disillusioned by a God who wanted me to agree to beliefs that didn’t concur with science. I was tired, oh so tired, of trying to follow circular arguments, battling evolution, round and round, same, same, never changing, never changed. Why did God hate science when God admitted to actively engaging in divine revelation? Heck, why was there so much truly bad science within the pages of that supposedly perfect book of god-words? Like, you know, how it asserts the world is made up of three layers when it isn't? Or, or, saying the sun actually stood still at one time when that would have had catastrophic consequences for the whole entire earth? Why had I needed to shut off my thinking in order to follow God? I didn’t want the wisdom of God, the one that didn’t make sense to the world, to be all about rejecting science, I wanted it to be about showing radical love. Deep down, I longed for a God who was pitted against the dark forces of greed, injustice and evil rather than a God pitted against science and anyone with bad doctrine. Again, that God, that Jesus I had believed in, wasn't actually about love, he was only about do's, don'ts and shouldn'ts. As I entered my late 30’s, I found myself grappling with a faith that was honestly fake and ignorant. And that made me lonely and churchless, and sad, deep down in my bones. Now, as I allow the grief, I find myself ever so grateful to those Israelites who wandered in the desert for so many years, alone and wishful. They never entered the Promised Land. They complained and cried out, and it was annoying. But, like me, they wondered allowed whether or not God was even with them or for them. And yet, there God always was. Only, God didn't look how they thought God would. God didn't act how they wanted God to. They were being beckoned to see God differently, to see themselves differently and most of all, to endure emptiness with hope, not hope for happy times, but hope that good, and love, existed, despite their circumstances. Maybe they wandered in the wilderness for the sake of all those future folks who would find themselves similarly wandering, lost, bored, hungry and thirsty. Those homeless, landless drifters, they remind me- it's okay to be in the wilderness. And, it's okay to be pissed and cry out. Because, even in the wilderness, God somehow still is. The wilderness has its place, and we may very well find our own place, in it.
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 It’s been a while, I know, since I’ve written a post. There are many reasons for this, chief among them being that my son had yet another surgery and the Christmas season is busy. Another reason is that I still feel as though I am trying to really dig in and find my voice for this blog: Who am I, and what am I about? Who am I writing "stuff" for? And, what’s the point of writing on a blog in 2019 when most everyone feels far too busy to be reading articles? The voice-for-this-blog dilemma is a microcosm of my current life. Who am I? What is my purpose in this world? Am I living my best life? These are questions I have been wrestling too, which have also stalled my writing. I am one of those people who can envision myself in a variety of careers, wearing a variety of different hats. In other words, I have a great imagination. When I was a child, I had endless ideas. I remember exploring a new career each day (usually one employing creativity), imagining myself becoming “great” in that area. Then, I would either become bored or disillusioned with my lack of natural talent, and move on to exploring a new idea for future-me. I always dreamed of being great and making an impression on this world. I also love children. I love being a mother. I have loved playing with my babies and watching them morph into tiny human beings. Lately I feel as though I am straddling an imaginary line between the small beautiful world of my own little family and the great big world of possibility. Children do not choose to come into this world. They are much smaller than us and ridiculously powerless. They grow and change every single day. I am not sorry I have focused on my children for these years of their young childhoods. I believe I will never regret this choice. Now that the little ones are getting bigger and more independent, I have this burning desire to figure out what I want to do with myself, though. I want to inspire my children by working hard at something. I want them to see that men and women can wear many different hats throughout their lifetimes. I want them to see that choosing themselves and choosing their children are not mutually exclusive: different phases of life might require more of a focus on one or the other, but everyone in a family (as in life) is equally valuable. I know I am rambling here…but can you empathize? A few months ago, I decided I wanted to pursue a master’s or doctorate degree. Returning to the classroom as a teacher is not something I want to do, though I loved my years of teaching. After exploring my options, I have tentatively landed on a master’s degree in applied anthropology. I have always been fascinated by culture, and I also have a heart to help the immigrant and the marginalized, which applied anthropology would give me excellent tools for. While I am literally clawing at the starting gate, other pressing matters have reared their heads: I don’t want a bunch of debt when I’m finished getting a degree, my family could currently use some extra income, and I have to take the GRE, which I won’t finish on time for next fall. Following that thread of reasoning has led me to the decision to build a business teaching online and writing curriculum for fellow homeschool parents. Sometimes I get excited about all of these "things" I want to do. My husband, thankfully, believes in our equal partnership and will be there for our kids as I become busier. Other times, doubt makes an appearance, warning and condemning me to failure. How will I find the time to do all this? What if I spend lots of precious time trying to build a biz, and then it all falls apart? What if going to school “takes me away” from my ever-evolving children too much? What if our family can’t handle all the stress this will bring? What if my son’s cancer returns or another one of us gets sick or something costly in our house falls apart? But I know I have to proceed, one step at a time, making the most of every moment as I go along. What is my point in writing this post? First, to say to other friends who are looking at big changes in their lives, "I'm right there with you". But also just to process where I’m at and why, and to say I will absolutely keep blogging...it may be sporadic, but even if no one’s reading, at least I’m getting in some great writing practice. And eventually, I think I will begin to iron out what my voice in life and on this blog is, as well as my purpose. To anyone out there reading these posts, thank you for hangin’ in there with me. If you don’t mind adventure, incongruence and wild random thoughts on life that connect in strange or surprising ways, then definitely stick around, ha! Finally, Merry Christmas to all. If you are feeling more heartache than joy this week, I get it. Just know that you are not alone; reach out to others, let them carry hope's torch for now, know you are deeply deeply loved.  I am sitting here at my desk gazing out the window at our oak trees as they drip-drop leaves, the only noticeable movement under today’s cloud-encrusted sky. In the background, the Cranberries aptly croon: “In your head, in your he-ead, zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie.” The day, the music, it all plays perfectly to my melancholy mood. This has certainly been a week of insight and melodrama. I don’t know if you are like me, but I am addicted to joy. I love feeling happy. And when I don’t feel happy, I worry something is wrong with me; I feel as though I am losing myself. I attribute this to being an Enneagram 7. Enneagram 7’s have this ability to put a pretty frame around every circumstance, to “look on the bright side,” if you will. This is actually not always healthy. I used to become frustrated with my husband when he was down, assuming I was a better person since I didn’t ever allow myself to feel despair. It took me a long time to learn that, not only was I shutting my husband down, but I was also terrified of my own negative emotions. In controlling my husband’s feelings, I was covering up my own anxiety. I am learning to notice myself reframing difficult circumstances. When I do, I stop and listen to what’s really going on inside of me. I am learning that negative, even dark, feelings don’t mean the world is collapsing. Understanding more about myself through the lens of the Enneagram has been so good for me. And understanding my husband’s Enneagram number, and how his number interacts with mine, has been incredibly helpful in our marriage. So, What is the Enneagram? The Enneagram is a personality typing system. It is unique in that it not only points out your attributes and strengths, it also shines a light on your weaknesses and areas of improvement. It shows you what you look like when you are unhealthy and what you look like when you are healthy. One profound insight I had when I first began learning about the Enneagram was how much each Enneagram type draws strength and wisdom from the others; in other words, we humans need each other. The Enneagram Institute describes the equality of the types in this way: “No type is inherently better or worse than any other. While all the personality types have unique assets and liabilities, some types are often considered to be more desirable than others in any given culture or group. Furthermore, for one reason or another, you may not be happy being a particular type. You may feel that your type is “handicapped” in some way. As you learn more about all the types, you will see that just as each has unique capacities, each has different limitations. If some types are more esteemed in Western society than others, it is because of the qualities that society rewards, not because of any superior value of those types. The ideal is to become your best self, not to imitate the assets of another type.” I think this is one reason why all the diagrams of the Enneagram look like circles with nine points. Each point stands for one Enneagram type. According to Don Riso and Russ Hudson in their book The Wisdom of the Enneagram, “The Enneagram is a geometric figure that maps out the nine fundamental personality types of human nature and their complex interrelationships. It is a development of modern psychology that has roots in spiritual wisdom from many different ancient traditions.” I am fascinated by human behavior, so from the moment I heard about the Enneagram, I was hooked. Unfortunately, I have noticed that as the Enneagram is becoming popular, some people are embracing generalizations about the numbers. An example is my number, type 7. We are often stereotyped as shallow people who like to party and have a good time. While this is certainly true of some type 7’s, it is not true of me. I am a quieter type 7. I actually have many traits which make me look like an Enneagram 2. A Brief Summary of the Nine Types From The Wisdom of the Enneagram You can find information about the Enneagram just about anywhere on the internet. I typed out some information from the book here for you because I heard an Enneagram teacher say once that the best way to discover your type is to ask what your greatest fear is and what your greatest desire is, rather than only taking a test or relying on general descriptions. So without further ado, here are the nine types:
How Knowing My Number Has Helped Me Most Enneagram teachers show what each number looks like in health or in stress. Each Enneagram number actually behaves like a specific other number when it is moving towards either health or crisis. Again, read this article to understand this better: https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/how-the-enneagram-system-works. Acknowledging my “7-ness” has helped me to see that it is okay not to feel happy all the time. It has helped me realize that under my “togetherness”, I struggle with darker emotions. For example, when I am stressed, I act like an unhealthy Enneagram 1. This means that I will suddenly be pissed off at how messy the house is. I’ll run around like a crazy person trying to clean and be very down on myself for not being perfect or having it all together. I will also bury myself in busyness. I’ll buy a myriad of books and read a little bit of every one of them without finishing any. I’ll refuse to have silence around me: music or podcasts on at all times. I’ll feel antsy, go on shopping sprees and spend too much money. I’ll avoid people. I used to just give in to these sudden feelings. Now I realize that when I do that I am struggling with emotions, and I need to spend some time in quietude, meditating or writing to get in touch with what is actually bothering me. I highly recommend discovering your Enneagram number. Here are some resources to guide you: The Wisdom of the Enneagram The Road Back to You Enneagram and Coffee https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/ http://www.sleepingatlast.com/ What Does All This Have To Do With My Current Mood? I am at the cusp of some life changes, and I am overcome with a myriad of emotions. I have been feeling anxious and acting out on that anxiety. Luckily, I recognize anxious behavior for what it is, and I’m working on meditating and writing. I have had this lie in my head for so long: I can’t be a mom and anything else. The lie tells me that if I pursue something like education or a career or business, I am rejecting my family. This lie has kept me trapped and in pain for quite some time. I’m very committed to homeschooling my children. I see the fruit of it in their lives. They are receiving a stress-free childhood in which they can grow at their own pace and pursue their passions. On the flip side, my youngest is now six, and I know my kiddos won’t be at home forever. And when they move out, I want to be doing a job I love. As I dream and begin to pursue my passions, I struggle. I struggle with anxiety my son’s cancer will return. Because of the shock of cancer, I feel like our family is catastrophe’s playground; if cancer doesn’t strike again, I have this awful foreboding that something else horrid will happen. So, my anxiety queries, why should I pursue anything or get excited? I struggle with fear that pursuing my dreams will take me too far away from my little ones, and I will miss out on their childhoods. I struggle with terror that I will pick the wrong career and live the rest of my life trapped by debt and unhappiness. I struggle with my unfair advantage and privilege. So many women don’t have the time to pursue a new career at my age. I know I will only be truly happy if I am making a difference in this world for the better. I see so many possibilities to do this...But, how do I choose only one?? And yet. And yet I know that if I sit around and do nothing to develop myself and grow and change, I will implode. So it is time to move and make decisions and let the chips fall where they may. The time has come for me to take a deep breath and step into the unknown, to use what I have been given and multiply it, to pick up those loose threads and see where they take me. Have you ever made big changes and struggled with grieving the past or fear of the future? How did you deal with ALL THE BIG FEELINGS, especially if you’re not a fan of feeling all the feels? To finish up, I will leave myself and you with the magical wisdom of Anne Lamott, “Bird by bird buddy. Just take it bird by bird.” |
Hey, you. I'm glad you dropped by...I'm a busy mom of three asking hard questions about my faith. Archives
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