Practiced Silence

 I feel like I've been fighting against silence my entire life.

When an older boy invited a few of us 1st grade girls to sit on his lap on the swing and then put his fingers in our underwear--I pretended to fall off of him, without a word. I told my mom...and I think another little friend who said he did the same thing to her. I think we told a few other girls to stay away from him. Our teacher told us not to tell anyone else because then those people would tell others and eventually so many people would know. My mom told the authorities at the school immediately and I *think* I remember having to repeat it to police? But I could be remembering wrong. The boy had to leave the school.

Later, I was told my dad was not my biological dad. I did not realize what it really meant for my heart and soul. That is when the lies of my heart and fragmenting of my identity began because from that moment on--I was NOT who I SAID I was. I thought I was 'brown' but I wasn't. When I was a teen, I wanted more information and my mom refuse to tell me anything. She said she was not ready. Again, silence. I was forced to carry the burden of her secret and that was unfair.

Between there somewhere, I was getting groped by a close member of the family. I don't remember when it started but I had decided I had to take care of myself. I handled it, in silence. Unfortunately, as a kid, I would sometimes forget again, and there he was. Always ready for me to forget and walk by too close. 

It all came out when I started triggering with a boy friend in high school. I was fine the entire summer we spent making out. I broke the silence but...it accomplished nothing. He was allowed back in our family's life. An even closer family member, swears he molested his daughter. I was told she admitted it. But so? Nothing changed except if he was around, we all acted as if he wasn't. We blocked him out in silence...until he just faded away. He's still here. He even spent years coaching girls sports. Everyone practiced the silence now. For who's benefit? At what cost? 

I verbally fought with my mom a lot in high school. I felt this rage inside--I think it was the silence trying to escape--fighting for a way out. I was never known for 'being quiet'. I was sassy as heck. Always my 'mouth' that 'got me in trouble.' But so many words I wasn't allowed to express. 'Why didn't you protect me?' came out as 'I HATE YOU!'

Let me not forget the moment I was told a female can not be a pastor. Because the Bible says. That's the verdict. No debate, no question. Women are not allowed to speak...in the church. 
But the marriage. The marriage provided the strongest silencing influence. There are still events I have never shared aloud and I don't know if I ever will...or can. But mostly, my voice is returning. It's not raging anymore. It's controlled and assertive, or written...mostly.

Grocery Store Pick Up Lines!?!

Is something along the lines of "Do you come here often?" still considered a pick-up line if you're at the grocery store!?! 

Clueless. Doesn't everyone go to the grocery store often?

I think he actually said, "You come here a lot, don't you?" I'm not sure if I should be embarrassed or creeped out that he notices how much I grocery shop!?! Lol?

I was just like..."ha...yaaahh..."

Awkward. Don't make eye contact. Stare into the misty glass doors of the frozen foods.

Then he opened and closed all the frozen food glass doors and said, "It's hard to see when they're all fogged up isn't it?"

Again, me with the, "Ha...yah..."

Original. Sigh.

"I've worked here six years."

"...Oh yah, that makes sense," I think I said. 

What? What makes sense? Return to searching for frozen vegetables through fogged glass doors.

Lucky for me, or him, he finally walked away. 

I wanted to go grocery shopping today but didn't want to look like I was trying to be there on purpose, when I'm feeling cute in my new favorite outfit and *same* sweater, ya know? So now, I'm out of blueberries!

When We're All Acting Like the Desperate-Jesus-Needing Humans We Are!

It's been some kind of week. The type that leaves my heart and mind all over the place and I'm not exactly sure where to land. Feeling as if the only two options are to eat all the pie or nothing at all. Sure, the worship music is on but I don't feel like singing along. The 'all-I've-got-to-give' looks a lot like 'just sitting there.' For my weary soul, that's everything. There's no cure and I don't need fixing-because being the one that stays, counts. It's enough.

I asked...told? my kiddos NOT to give me their assignments to grade the night before or morning of their learning record meeting, warned them to get their work samples together early...The night before and morning of--here I was. Feeling discouraged and like a failure because my kids had pretty much done everything I warned them not to do.

My frailty was evident as I felt like losing it and going off on everyone. Isn't everyone aware of how stressful my life is already? Dishes that only take minutes to do, left undone. Items and objects that could easily be put away, left out. Shelves carelessly over stuffed with random papers and ish everywhere.

Enough to drive a mom mad, of course.

In the heat of my exasperation...the epiphany.

Everyone was simply acting like they need Jesus. I was upset because no one was doing what *I* wanted--even if what *I* wanted was good, useful and wise. And I was taking it personal because...?

Dumb.

My kids don't need me, they NEED JESUS! Just like I do. And I was getting upset because they were actually acting like it!?! Duh. 

Big. Fat. Duh.How else should they behave? Like they *need* ME? Like they have it all together and don't need anyone? Certainly not Jesus?

Why wouldn't I expect them to need Jesus and to actually act like it. Isn't this what every scripture and historical record in the Bible is about? One account after the next, of human beings prone to failure, trying to do this life on their own?

They need Jesus just as much as I do.
I need Jesus just as much as them.
The need is not dependent on chronological age.

Recognizing their need, my need, our need--enabled grace. Grace I need, is the grace I can give.

I want my children to need Jesus, not me. Even more, I want them to recognize it.
Maybe it requires me recognizing and remembering first.