Eh?

Wow, I think it's has been over a week since I last posted.  I've been doing better about making sure I post in a fairly, kind of regular way, but this past week and a half have been busy.  There have been tests and assignments due, work, and yes, if I am going to be honest, lots of distracting stuff happening in my head.  It's all been good, though. You know, in that "growing pains" sort of good.

I am still thinking and praying about the last post, and the topic of Christian parents inadvertently raising kids to be good instead of to be loving disciples of Jesus.  I want to continue in that direction, because I think it is an important one.  At this point, though, at 8:00pm on a Wednesday night, I am so tired and fuzzy brained, I'm having a hard time even writing about continuing writing about it, so now is probably not the best time to deal with it. 

Am I making any sense?

Besides, Grace is watching Bob & Doug McKenzie on the television behind me, and I'm a little distracted. 

So, yeah, keep your touques on, eh? 

And keep your sticks on the ice.

Oh wait. That's Red Green.  Man alive, I am tired.

Still, dear readers, you are in my heart and prayers always.  I know who some of you are, and am honored that you continue to visit this place to read my ramblings. As for those of you that I don't know, that's okay.  God knows you, and so when I pray, He knows who I am talking about, even if I don't.  Which, if you really think about it, is a very cool thing.

Cheers, friends!

Raising Children - To Be Good, Or To Love?

I woke up this morning with this thought in my head.

We fail to disciple our children in the Way of Christ when we teach them to be good rather than to love sacrificially.

Sometimes, I think we, as Christian parents, can be fooled into thinking that these two things are the same.  Or that if we teach our kids to be good, they will automatically be loving.  This just isn't true.  Our natural inclination to fall into pride is too strong.  Being good means knowing the rules and following them.  Loving sacrificially means loving others the way Jesus did.  Being good depends on rewards and punishments.  Loving sacrificially depends on the Holy Spirit's guidance and discipline.  Being good means we feel "right" when we have done what is expected of us.  Loving sacrificially means that we feel right when we know that our actions have been motivated by love and only love. 

Being good can lead to pride or shame because it is too easy to judge our own goodness against the goodness of others.  If we are better than "they" are, we feel pride.  If we are worse, we feel shame.  We play intricate inner games with ourselves in an effort to feel better than others, by doing things like comparing our strengths with another's weaknesses or labelling some sins as worse than others (usually sins that we don't struggle with).  This is how someone who gossips maliciously can be judgmental against someone who drinks alcoholically.

Loving sacrificially kills pride and shame, because our Standard is Jesus, and no one can match Him.  His passionate, sacrificial love for us creates a safe place to confess that we cannot love others as He does.  There is no comparing ourselves to others. We all need His help.  We need Him to pour His love through us out onto the world.  No one can do it alone. So there is no room for pride, and shame is banished in the Light of Jesus' love.  So when we see others struggling with sin, we feel compassion and a longing to help, not judge.  There is no reason to judge, no motivation.  In fact, if we do slip into judgment, we feel the prompting, the displeasure of the Holy Spirit immediately. Finding judgment in a heart devoted to love is like seeing a cockroach scuttling across the floor of a finely decorated kitchen.  Everything within us jumps up yelping, and there is no rest until the judgment is caught, confessed, repented and disposed of. 

How does this relate to how we raise our children?

More later.

Peace out.

And Moving On...

Well, happy week-end, friends! 

Most of you will be glad to hear that I have disabled comments on this blog. After the comments from last week, and much thought and prayer, I am pretty much certain that no meaningful discussion can come from the spirit that made itself known there.  The ability to remain anonymous means that there is no accountability, and when someone insists on entering into the private affairs of others but purposely avoids accountability, it just can't go well.  So, since most of my comments come from Facebook and Twitter anyway, and I have posted my email address - markelacie@gmail.com - there really is no need to have the option for anonymous comments available.  So please, please, please, feel free to let me know what you think!  I love to hear from you, and am pretty sure that I have the best readers in the history of blogdom, so comment away!!

Also, I would just like to say that with all the writing that I do about my private life, I try very hard to balance honesty with love when I talk about my husband.  I do not regret marrying him.  I do not regret loving him.  I believe that God had amazing plans for us, for our marriage and our family.  I know this, because He is continuing to work out His plans in our family, at least through the part I have access to, which is Grace and I.  We needed to come to Huntingdon.  We needed to be in the church that we are in, with our pastor, whose heart is humble and faithful and passionate about lost, broken people. 

Most importantly, I believe that marriage is about loving, and I have loved Marc for many, many years.  First, as a friend and brother-in-Christ, then as my husband, and now that love is changing again, in ways I can't quite describe, but God has deepened it and is transforming it into His love for Marc.  I will never look back on our years together and say, "What was I thinking?"  He was an amazing man, who deeply loved me.  And I loved him.  We began our marriage burdened with heartaches that came from outside our small family, were totally unexpected and which God never meant for us to carry.  I know who Marc really is, and I miss him.  He is precious to me.  

I realize that it is difficult to understand, this stubborn commitment to caring about someone who has hurt us, when our culture, even our churches have a tendency to freely throw people away when they no longer serve a desired purpose.  Having been thrown away does not mean, however, that I have to become one who throws others away.  God has never, and will never throw me away, and it is my joy to honor Him by wanting to be like Him in this.  For the disciple of Jesus, people are never things to be used.  Our love does not vary according to their contribution to our lives.  We may have to set boundaries when dealing with difficult people, but Jesus' love is as powerful from afar as it is close up.  I care deeply about Marc, pray daily for him, and would do anything in God's will to help him towards healing.  That is my role in his life now. 

And, under God's guidance and protection, I move on.  To new opportunities, new depths of faith, new friendships and challenges.  Hence the disabling of the comments.  There is no room to drag old lies with us on the path into the future that God has planned. 

Peace out, friends.

Writers are forgetful...

Grace sent me this in an email.  It was such a gift...and it explains a lot!

"Writers are forgetful,


but they remember everything.
They forget appointments and anniversaries,
but remember what you wore,
how you smelled,
on your first date…

They remember every story you’ve ever told them -
like ever,
but forget what you’ve just said.
They don’t remember to water the plants
or take out the trash,
but they don’t forget how
to make you laugh.

Writers are forgetful
because
they’re busy
remembering
the important things."

Author Unknown

Thank you,  Chika! 

October 17, 2012...Has it really been a year?

Today, October 17, 2012, is the first anniversary of my mother's death.   A year ago, at this time, Grace and I were driving to Cornwall to say good-bye to her.  I remember it all clearly.  The early morning phone call from Dana to let me know that she had died, sitting on the edge of my bed after hanging up the phone, feeling the cold emptiness of loss sift into my body and spirit, slipping into Grace's room to wake her up and let her know.  We dressed and got ready to leave quietly. I felt stunned.  I had expected it, but it was the kind of expectation that exists only in the mind.  My heart was completely unprepared.  How could it be? I had never known a moment of life without my mother in it.  Everything had changed. And yet the drive to Cornwall was a precursor to the oddness I would experience repeatedly in the days after my mum's death, as I drove through a morning world that had not changed, not one iota.   Driving through Huntingdon, sitting in class, pushing a grocery cart through the local IGA, seeing the world continue as usual while, on the inside, I struggled to deal with the absolute fact that for me, everything had changed.  My mum was gone.

I cannot express how grateful I am for those who walked this road with me, especially for my sisters who intimately shared this loss with me.  We all processed our loss in unique and individual ways, but we did it together as much as possible.  I am especially grateful for the care that Dana & Erin gave to Mum in her last days, and to Lori and Erin for being with her when she died.  I think of my daughter, who walked quietly beside me, praying, hugging, loving.  Madison, who greeted me every time I came home with a hug and compassionate eyes, and who understood when I felt the need to hide in the Mom-Cave at times.  My Aunts and Uncles, who shared this loss with me as they said good-bye to their sister.  Having already lost their parents, they faced this loss with grace and strength that was an encouragment to me.  My best friend, Sandy, who cried.  Ah, the friends.  They prayed, they cried, they offered words of encouragement and hugs and so much love, it overwhelmed me at times.  The friend who hugged me and said, "How are you?" in the hallways of school and really wanted to know.  The friends who sat with me in a restaurant in Malone and offered napkins when I cried.  The many friends who shared their stories of loss with me, and encouraged me that while the pain doesn't go away, it does mellow into memory and love and hope.  I am thankful for Jean-Luc, who curled up on the pillow beside mine every night and let me cry into his fur.  Of course, he did warn me not to make a habit of it. After all, he is Jean-Luc. 

Has it really been a year?  I have to admit, I feel better than I thought I would.  I am sad, but it is a gentler, kinder sorrow.  I miss Mum.  I am filled with gratitude, and I think that helps.  I will never stop being grateful for the time I had with Mum before she died, or for her motherly care for me in those days. 

So, yes, I guess it has really been a year. 

I love you, Mum.

Permission to get angry, Captain...

If you are a regular reader of this blog, and you managed to make it though the abject foolishness of last week-end's posts, I don't know whether to thank you, or apologize profusely. 

I know that we just all want to move on.  But, I also know that the majority of you will forgive me if I head back into this issue one more time.  I just don't feel like I can move on yet.  The comments and posts of the week-end were not simply issue debates or a sharing of opinions.  For me, it was personal.  Someone walked boldly into my space, with the confidence that can only accompany ignorance and religious self-righteousness, and told me and all my readers that I deserved to be physically harmed as a punishment for talking back/disagreeing with/being rude to another person. They also maintained that my daughter deserved the same treatment.  And the worst part of it all, they claimed that God approved.  Someone that I might stand behind in line at the grocery store, that I might walk past on the street, that might sit near me in church, believes that I am no more than a disobedient dog that deserves to be chained and hurt.  I am horrified.  Sickened.  And furious.

I have spent the past few days trying not to admit to my anger.  Anger is a scary thing for an abuse victim.  If an abuse victim gets angry after being violated, abusers will often use that anger to justify the attack.  Forget that the anger came after the attack.  Logic is not usually a strong point for abusive people.  And religious, abusive people will say that either God knew that she was secretly angry and she needed to be punished, or that his anger is a sign of an evil/dysfunctional spirit and he needs to be treated harshly.  Because flying into a hysterical rage because someone doesn't agree with your opinion about a certain issue is waaaay more rational and sane than becoming angry at a physical/emotional assault.  *rolls eyes*  I guarrantee that my commenter will look at the fact that I am angry about his/her comments as an indication that I am guilty and out of God's will for my life. 
But then there's what God has to say about, not just the issue, but about me and my situation.  Years ago, when the abuse first started, God gave me Psalms 18 as an encouragement and a promise.  He did see what was going on.  No one was going to get away with anything.  And yes, abuse makes God angry. Very angry.  Just listen...

"I called to the Lord, who is worthy of praise,

and I have been saved from my enemies.

 The cords of death entangled me;

the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.

 The cords of the grave coiled around me;

the snares of death confronted me.

 In my distress I called to the Lord;

I cried to my God for help.

From his temple he heard my voice;

my cry came before him, into his ears.

 The earth trembled and quaked,

and the foundations of the mountains shook;

they trembled because he was angry.

 Smoke rose from his nostrils;

consuming fire came from his mouth,

burning coals blazed out of it.

 He parted the heavens and came down;

dark clouds were under his feet.

 He mounted the cherubim and flew;

he soared on the wings of the wind.

 He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him—

the dark rain clouds of the sky.

Out of the brightness of his presence clouds advanced,

with hailstones and bolts of lightning.

 The Lord thundered from heaven;

the voice of the Most High resounded.

 He shot his arrows and scattered the enemy,

with great bolts of lightning he routed them.

 The valleys of the sea were exposed

and the foundations of the earth laid bare

at your rebuke, Lord,

at the blast of breath from your nostrils.

 He reached down from on high and took hold of me;

he drew me out of deep waters.

 He rescued me from my powerful enemy,

from my foes, who were too strong for me.

 They confronted me in the day of my disaster,

but the Lord was my support.

 He brought me out into a spacious place;

he rescued me because he delighted in me."

Psalm 18:3 - 19

This passage is special to me for many reasons, but it was a few years before I realized just how personal God had made it.  Because I have coronary artery spasms, stress is a major trigger of angina for me.  Stress messes with the IC as well, but that's just painful, not deadly.  Under intense stress, my arteries spasm partially closed, lessening the amount of blood that can reach my heart.  The heart attack I had was caused by an artery that was damaged from previous spasms, spasming closed and cutting of the blood supply to part of my heart.  It's a very real risk again. 

 

When this passage speaks of cords of death coiled around and entangling the psalmist, that is exactly what an angina attack feels like to me.  Like I am being suffocated, by a rope around my throat.  Not only is a coil of death threatening to close off my arteries, but I feel it, in my throat.  It is very frightening. 

 

God assures me, through these verses, that He sees what is happening, and that I am not without a hero.  Read the description of His decent from Heaven again.  Close your eyes. Imagine it.  Angry doesn't begin to describe it.  Smoke rising from His nostrils.  Consuming fire coming from His mouth.  He thunders and roars and rages into battle.  Why? Because one of His children is being attacked. 

 

I have been protected.  I have much less angina than I used to, and I believe I am on a road, albeit zigzaggy, to improvements in my IC symptoms as well.  Within a few months of leaving my home with nothing, God provided an apartment that Grace & I love, more furniture and household stuff than we need, a new church with a pastor that supports, guides and encourages us, a great community with new experiences, new people, and new challenges to face, a job that I was created for and that I physically can manage, and most importantly, healing and growth in Him.  I have watched my child grow into a beautiful, compassionate, loving young disciple of Christ, and we have the most wonderful conversations about God and His ways in our lives.  Even my mother's death was preceded by the most intimate, loving mother-daughter time that I have ever had with my mum, and as painful as it was, I remember her life with joy and look forward to being reunited with her one day.  I also enjoy an even closer relationship with my sisters.  God has truly met all my needs, and has blessed us with so much over the past year, I can hardly begin to describe it.

So yes, being told that I deserved what I got angers me.  It should.  It makes God angry, too.  I am angry because I love, though, and that's the difference for me.  It is obvious that the commenter was angry, too.  No one quotes scripture and spouts accusations with that kind of venom without some deep-seated anger going on.  The thing that really angers me?  I know how much damage those lies have done to my ex-husband.  I know how confusing they can be for people still in abusive situations, who may be reading this blog.  I fear for the children, the helpless, the hurt people that may be under this person's influence.  This stuff is dangerous.  Seriously.

And I am furious at the fact that Pharisees and religious self-rightous church-people like this drag weak, lost, confused, sinful people before Jesus, calling for death and punishment for sins they themselves commit in secret. Then, they claim that Jesus delivers death rather than life, hate rather than love, punishment rather than mercy.  I hate that they try to re-invent Jesus in their image, rather than allowing themselves to be transformed into His glorious Love. 

I am also grateful.  That I am surrounded by people who do not need to be "manipulated" by me into believing that abuse is wrong.  That God's truth is a trillion times louder than these filthy lies.  And that I have been given the power...and the responsibility...to make sure that no one will ever read again, on this blog, that they deserve to be abused. 

I have chosen Life, for myself and my daughter, and I have never regretted it.  And in Christ, I live.

Praise His Holy Name!!!

Okay, one last reply to one more comment...

"Did you write that you had the power of an atomic bomb in the use of words. Atomic bombs can only destroy, it never builds up. Start using those words to bless your husband. In this instalment you say that you don't want to expose your husband, then you proceed to shred him publicly on your blog, under the pretext that your teaching your readers about abs. It 's manipulating and using public opinion as a weapon against him. When we live outside the will of God, we need and want the approval and support from the world. The world will be more than happy to accommodate "   ~ Anonymous

Before I respond, I would highly encourage you to have the courage to identify yourself.  I know that it is easier to write comments like the above under the cover of anonymity, but if you are determined to involve yourself, you should also name yourself.

That being said, yes, I did speak of having power in the use of my words.  I also wrote that I would not use that power.  Atomic bombs destroy. Atomic energy provides heat and electricity.  When I receive a comment that specifically mentions my ex-husband, as the last one did (I am assuming it is from you as well, but I cannot be sure, because it is, of course, anonymous) I am left in a dilemma.  If I do not allow the comment to be posted, I am cutting off a voice that obviously wants to be heard.  It is also obvious that it wants to be heard publically, as sending me a personal message would be as simple as a comment requesting my email address.  I dislike censorship, and don't feel comfortable with this, as I have stated before.  Still, the comment specifically invites a discussion about my ex-husband, which I am uncomfortable with.  It is a difficult matter, to be honest about what I am going through while still honoring my ex-husband.  There is an incredible pressure on victims of violence, especially domestic violence, to be quiet.  This is not an option for me.  So I walk a very fine line.  And I try to walk it with grace.  But I will not lie.  And I will not allow myself to be held responsible for the actions of another.  I was often told that the violence I suffered was a consequence of my rebellion and disobedience.  Perhaps there are also consequences for physically assaulting a blogger?  Something to think about.

As to the way I have used my words in my marriage, again, I am put at a disadvantage by your anonymity.  I do not know who you are, so I do not know how much you know about my marriage.  Have we ever discussed it?  Have you ever witnessed me verbally abusing my ex-husband? Or him, me? I don't know.  Apparently you are aware, from reading my blog, that physical violence was involved.  I assume that you are also aware that, as a heart patient with coronary artery spasms who has already had a heart attack, acts of violence truly do threaten my life.  So, your above comment is made in light of these facts.  You obviously are still comfortable with the idea that I deserved what I got.  Tell me, if I had died, would you have told that to my daughter at my funeral?  Would you have used those words to comfort my ex-husband, who I believe did love me, but was in the grip of something that he cannot get free of himself?  Do these questions feel manipulative?  I lived with them for years.  My family lived with them. To us, they were real.  The threat was real. 

You obviously feel free to speak your mind, albeit anonymously.  If I had spoken a message like that, in my  marriage, I would have been punished.  Do you consider your words to be blessings?  Should you be physically or emotionally punished?  How do you define "blessing"?  And how do you know that I have not used my words, repeatedly, to my ex-husband, to bless him? 

I can see that, on some level, you care for my ex-husband.  If you do not hold him 100% accountable for his behaviour, you must understand that your words are poison to him.  You are tagging him with names that God never meant for him to carry.  I respect him enough to know...absolutely know...that he is capable of reaching out to God for help. I have seen him do it.  We have been friends for many, many years, and as his friend, I never made excuses for him, never saw him as too weak or foolish or lost to let God lead him the right way.  True friends are people who see us as we truly are, and love us anyway.  When we are surrounded by "yes" people, who lie to us about our behaviour and encourage us to blame others, we quickly get the message that it is not safe to be honest about who we are.  That is not love.  There is no blessing in that.  I also know that on some level, he trusts me in this. He doesn't like it, but he trusts me.  He knows who I am.  And one day, when he really comes to the end of himself, he will not go to those who have cheered him on in his sin, but those who have called him, with love, to Life.  I asked him once, if he ever doubted my love. He said no.  That means something to me.

As to whether or not I am living in the will of God, I have to assume that you don't know me very well.  Not because I am some super Christian, but because God has been so awesomely abundant in His provision for Grace and I, and His love and strength and sweetness are such a daily gift to me, that if this is living outside of God's will, I can't imagine what it is like inside of His will!!!  Am I seeking the approval of others?  The original post, I Will Change Your Name, was written for a friend who is hurting, but I don't know if approval was exactly the point. I wanted to bless the person, and others, with the reality of God's love.  The thing is, most people simply don't approve of abuse and bullying.  If you feel "disapproved of", you may not be a victim of my wizardry with words.  It may just be because most people think that hitting people who disagree with us is wrong.  It's a bit ironic that you are free to disagree with me, without fear of violence.  Not everyone has that freedom. 

This is going to be the last post on this.  I'm not going to keep coming back to the same place, in hopes of finding life and truth.  There is no logic in the thinking of people who believe that they deserve to freely and safely speak their mind, no matter how rude or hurtful, while others should be physically and emotionally abused for simply disagreeing.  I don't know where the anger against victims comes from, especially victims that rise up and refuse to be victims anymore. I really don't understand it. I have theories, of course, but really, it doesn't matter.  I don't believe that there is anything I can say that will make a difference for you, Commenter, and even if these posts help other victims to know how to stand up under similar attacks, I'm not convinced that this is the best way to do that.

I will not be allowing any more comments concerning my ex-husband to be posted.  If you or anyone else wants to discuss these issues with me, my email address is markelacie@gmail.com.  Email me, identify yourself, and ask all the questions that you want.  Understand that if your emails consist of assumptions and attacks, and you are unwilling to let go of your assumptions, we won't get far.  As long as you believe that people in certain circumstances deserve to live lives of fear and abuse for any reason, there is no possiblity of constructive conversation.  That's just the way it is.

Peace out.