Shoulders Back, Head Held High

I got a wonderful Mother's Day surprise this year... and it was a surprise to my husband and kids too!  While I was greeted with the typical breakfast in bed in the morning and given a card made at school as well as a purse, my real gift... the one that meant the most to me was time.  The time I was given has resulted in a MAJOR change in how I feel about myself.  Let me explain.

Ryan purchased me an ebook about a month ago.  He gave it to me so I could escape into a fictional world that was not of my own building.  He hoped I would read it on vacation in Florida, but that vacation really wasn't conducive to reading.  The Friday night of Mother's Day weekend Ryan asked me if I had started the book yet, and that reminded me I had it so I went ahead and started it before heading to bed.   Quickly, I was immersed in another world... one that wooed me in a very surprising way.

It was a love story... okay maybe not love at first... a lust story with two very powerful main characters with lots of issues.  A few pages into it I read something that totally shocked me and looked over at my husband saying, "What did you buy me???"  His eyes got big as he replied. "I don't know, I read a review and it sounded like you might like it. Why?"  I proceeded to read the part that shocked me aloud to him and he was shocked as well and quickly apologized for getting me this book.

I am a survivor of a sexual trauma and because of this I am very "delicate" when it comes to things that are sexual in nature.  Not long ago I would have closed the book in disgust and then spent the next few days fighting an internal battle of anxiety and repulsion because of the story's raw sexuality and the extremely crude way it explained things.  But for a reason, unknown to me at the time... I was able to keep reading without a problem.  I was shocked.

Quickly, the full plot of the story came into view.  It was about a man and a women, both survivors of sexual trauma (molestation and rape),  and how they had to work through their personal issues with their past in order to be able to truly love each other.  It was a very interesting, passionate, well written piece of fiction that I recognized as being done by an author who either had experienced sexual trauma herself or did a tremendous amount of research to be able to write it's aftermath so correctly and vividly.  I finished the book by Saturday afternoon, unable to put it down and I discovered that the story was actually a trilogy.  Ryan purchased the second ebook for me immediately and I dove in right away.

Book two was a hard read for me as it dealt with the specifics of the sexual traumas as well as the characters realizing how broken they were and how much work it would take to fix it.  I spent nearly all day Mother's Day reading.  The story nearly ripped my heart out as I read... feeling all of the emotions they felt because I had been there and in some ways... realized I was still there.  I don't think I cried, but I hurt and by the end of the book things were very unresolved and I felt sick to my stomach.  I was glad there was a third book because I needed to feel better... and I felt stuck in a bad place.  The book had me remembering some of my past habits that I have worked so hard to break free from... and it had a part of me desiring to go back there and be like that again.  I prayed for God to protect me, and He did but it was a very uncomfortable feeling.  It brought forward a lot of memories I'd just assume forget and showed me some things I hadn't even realized before.  Ryan purchased book three for me Sunday night and I started it right away, hoping for resolve.

Book three was just what I needed.  Resolutions were found and things began to come together for them as a couple,  they beat the crap out of some of their demons and were actually happy.  Personally, I realized the reasons for some of my behaviors and had a cathartic moment over something I had no clue about. It was amazing.  The book ended very abruptly with a lot of open ends and missing info about other story lines - but it closed up the hole I needed closed and I felt total relief when I finished it.  There is supposed to be a fourth book, but it has yet to be released.  Personally, I'm not sure I NEED to read it as I was able to get what I needed out of it already - but I might read it just for fun.

So, I essentially read three books in three and a half days.   I was a woman obsessed.  I've never done that before!   Earlier I said that I was surprised I was able to continue reading, but was able to for a reason unknown to me.  Well, when I was done with all three and had time to think about the journey the books took me through... I understood exactly why I was able to read them.  God knew I would glean exactly what I had been searching and needing for years.  Even through years of therapy, pieces of me were still very broken as a result of the sexual trauma I endured but something about this story... the way it was written, the details it provided and the things it made me realize was extremely healing to my body, heart, soul and spirit.  So many light bulbs lit as I read.  So many things of my past finally made sense to me... I literally felt like a thousand pound weight was lifted off of me.  I fell to my knees while alone and cried like a baby... feeling the freedom I have longed for so deeply wash over me.  I felt blessed by God and so very grateful.

I have always had horrible posture, it's something I hate about myself and I have worked on before but usually give up because it seems I can't make myself stick with holding my shoulders back and my head up high.  I don't think it is a coincidence that since reading this series and achieving that freedom that I am holding my head up higher and my shoulder back farther naturally.  I just feel different.  I am no longer ashamed, I am no longer afraid, I am no longer looking in the mirror with a frown wishing I was something different, instead I feel a new confidence that I believe is exactly what God wants me to feel.  I feel good deep down in my heart and soul.  I feel pretty for the first time ever.  I feel proud of who God has made me into.  Those things were stolen from me a long time ago... but thanks to some very raw, rude fiction given to me by my husband, some time to obsessively read given to me by my family, some hefty guarding of my heart by God and my ability to accept the truth inside me... I got them back... it took 23 years but I got them back!!!  Shoulders back, head held high... I feel good.  Praise the Lord!

I'm sorry I have not said what the series is, if you want to know you can message me.  While I am totally grateful for the series and what it did for me, I don't feel right about passing it on to the average person for entertainment purposes.  I didn't feel it portrayed love and sex in a way that would be pleasing to God at all. In fact it was quite the opposite.  I was able to look beyond that because I have a very firm grip on what I believe God intended love and sex to be like.  For someone who doesn't, this story could be very destructive.  If you feel you need an experience like mine or just feel like you can handle it... PM me or leave your email address as a comment.  Your comment will not be published without my approval so I can just get your email and cancel your comment.  I will gladly share the titles with you.

Keep your shoulders back, your head held high and have a great Memorial Day weekend!!!

Not a Hallmark Moment

I don’t even really know how to start this story... but I guess I’ve got to start somewhere. As you probably know, Ryan and I moved to Wisconsin this last October. We have been really happy with our decision so far and have found many positives to this cross-country relocation from Texas.  Brett is thriving at his new school and is being challenged in ways he would not have been otherwise. We love our new house and have even really enjoyed the weather. It’s kind of nice to not be sweating constantly.

One of the positives that came with this move was when I began having a repeat of intestinal symptoms from last summer, a completely new set of doctor eyes and ears began to care for me. With those new eyes and ears came some different tests and in the end... a brand new, very specific, very real diagnosis for my problems that was based on a simple test not one of my doctors in Texas ever thought to order; a sonogram. Turns out, my digestive problems were not a result of cryptic IBS or the result of me “maybe” having Celiac disease as my previous doctors had best guessed. No, my problems are due to the giant tumor I have growing on my left ovary which is obstructing my large intestines. And my chronic abdominal pains are a result of a large fibroid tumor in my uterus... which by the way was causing a lot of other problems too. Wow... all the testing of the last year and a half and no one ever thought to look for that. It sort of blows my mind. None-the-less, I was ecstatic to have a real answer finally... and a real plan to fixing the problem.

After several opinions, I settled on the plan to have the tumors removed in surgery. With the size and placement of my tumors as well as the great possibility I am also suffering from endometriosis, I decided to go ahead and have a hysterectomy in which the doctor would do her best to make sure I ended up with at least one ovary intact. My surgery was scheduled for May 2nd and I couldn’t wait to get this over with!!! Praise the Lord, I was going to be free at last!

The Friday night before my surgery, April 27th, I had a dream that stuck with me. I dreamed that during surgery, the doctor ran into a complication and things became dangerous for me. I told Ryan about the dream in the morning and told him I wanted to do my best to make sure nothing like that would really happen.

A few conversations with my doctor and a blood test later, what happened in my dream was confirmed. It was my worst nightmare and it was true. Surgery for May 2nd needed to be cancelled because, just like in my dream... I was pregnant.

I couldn’t even try to make this up - I mean, there is a reason Hallmark doesn’t have a card that says “Sorry the hysterectomy to get rid of your painful tumors didn’t work out but congrats on your pregnancy.” Hallmark, if you decide to add that card, be sure to put it in the sympathy section.

I cried. I’m turning 40 this year. I have never had a desire to have another child... NEVER. I am not one of those women who loved pregnancy. I am also not one of those women who got tricked into having another baby because she forgot what being pregnant was like... no... I will never forget the hell of my pregnancy. I don’t deal with nausea well, I don’t have a ton of patience, I’m thrilled to have potty training done and over with. I’m glad I’m not a mother of a preschooler any longer. Ugh... really God? Pregnant? Me? What kind of cruel joke was this?

I got mad... livid. My body had been hijacked again. The little leech inside me was going to take all the good stuff and leave me with the leftovers for 8 months. The nausea, this time with vomiting was going to make it difficult for me to have much desire to do anything. I was going to have to stop taking all the medications that had been keeping me sane for the last few years... goodbye hormonal balance, goodbye ADHD relief, goodbye easy sleep. I had to give up the things that were good for my emotional health so I could protect the leech. LIVID. Did I mention, I’m turning 40 this year?

I yelled at God for this cruel irony and used a few curse words too. I told Him if He wanted me to be happy about this He needed to give me a very clear... crystal clear sign that this was what He wanted. At my sonogram I found out my due date is Christmas day 2012. Really God... my baby will be welcomed to the world on the same day Jesus was born? Turns out this "sign" made me even more mad.

My doctor talked things through with me. It was made clear to me that I certainly had the option of terminating this pregnancy. I mean, who could fault me for doing such a thing when I have a tumor that is blocking my intestines and chronic pain due to a fibroid the size of my fist. This wasn’t planned... wasn’t my physical safety at risk here? Was my emotional sanity at risk if I went off my meds? I’m almost 40 which increased my risk factors (not sure I mentioned that yet). Geez. Seemed pretty cut and dry... if there was one time in life to consider being selfish, it was now. It was justifiable medically too... bonus. My turmoil seemed to lessen slightly. I felt peace might be around the corner.

Well, I was wrong. The more I contemplated the possibility of terminating, the more torn up I felt, even if it did seem medically justified. The more I realized I wanted it to go away, the more angry I became and then when the doctor told me... I was going to have to go to an abortion clinic in Madison to have a consultation if that was my choice... I was back to LIVID. I knew there was no way I could walk through those doors... NO WAY. I felt like an animal trapped in a cage, with a leech. Oh, and I'm turning 40 this year.

I called a dear friend in a crazed, angry, rant. She listened and she sympathized... but she didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear. Instead she spoke truth. She said many wise things but the most powerful of all of them was "God never makes mistakes," and “God creates all life.” As a person who struggles with intimacy, I wondered if the devil was really trying to screw me up by making me regret my progress with intimacy by making me pregnant. Being reminded that God is solely responsible for the creation of life was key.

In a later conversation with my doctor, I was told that the medical risks to my life with this pregnancy were fairly low. The pregnancy hormones would undoubtedly cause my fibroids to grow quickly and I would have even more discomfort. I would also have more of the same intestinal difficulties I had already been having, probably worse, but there was no life threatening risk to me. The big risk was to the baby. The baby only has a 50/50 chance of being born alive. With my age and the fibroids, lots of things could go wrong. I could miscarry at any time... next week, tomorrow, 3 days before due date. The funniest thought came to me... “I should terminate because its best for the baby.” What? You might not live so lets just kill you... that makes a lot of sense. I knew without doubt after that conversation with my doctor, I was going to be pregnant for awhile. I would be pregnant as long as God thought I needed to be... and that just might mean for 8 more months.

As mad as I have been at God lately, I have known deep inside that my faith would not be moved. I’ll be honest and say I don’t want to be pregnant, I don’t want to have another baby, I don’t want to do this whole thing over again at the age of 40... but I don’t want to have tumors blocking my intestines or chronic pain from fibroids either. I certainly don’t want all of that mixed together - plus nausea and vomiting - but here I am living a life full of “I don’t want this” and I’m okay.

My friend told me that the reason I got so mad was that I knew there was no way I would choose termination, even though that would have been my “easy” way out. I have to agree with her. She also said that what is happening in my life right now is proof positive that God’s promise to never let us go can be counted on. I wasn’t sure what she meant by that at first, but I’m starting to get it.

When I turned to God and gave myself to Him years ago, He did promise He would never let me go. It would be really easy for me to look at these circumstances and only focus on the feeling that God is square in the middle of letting me go because I am not getting what I want. But, if I choose to look deeper I can see His promise being fulfilled. He hasn’t let me go at all, in fact He has such a good grip on me that He absolutely will not let me turn from Him by making a mistake I will most assuredly regret. He has installed the Spirit within me so strongly and placed the right people around me so perfectly that I am not able to follow my flesh, I must follow Him, even though it’s not at all what I want. If that isn’t His promise being upheld, I don’t know what is.

I have a feeling I know what God is after from me right now in this situation and He has put me in a place where I do not have a choice but to choose what He wants for me. Well played God. I guess when I asked You to help me break free from the things that hold me back from You I should have put a non-pregnancy disclaimer in there (not that it would have mattered). I guess it’s true, be careful what you ask for... especially when you’re asking for it from God.

The one thing I have liked about this experience is the amount of understanding and support I have received from the people who know me best. I am amazed at how God has shown me in the last few years how to not only be a better friend, but how to choose better friends and uphold appropriate boundaries that keep a friendship strong. I never thought I would deserve to have such quality people in my life... but I see now that I do because I have learned how to be that back. I want to thank all of you who have had such encouraging and understanding words for me in this tough time.

I have already decided what I want to name our new daughter... yes, I "know" it will be a girl because I am much more comfortable with boys so therefore God must make it be a girl. But the baby name is a whole other story... you'll have wait for that one. In the meantime, I'd appreciate any prayers for my family... for us to have peace with however this ends up... and if you could sneak one in requesting relief from my nausea - that would be great too. Thanks for reading.

Bee-side

Yesterday I was in the front yard trimming my Zinnias back so new growth could come in. There I was trimming, just minding my own business. I felt a little tickle on my right upper arm and figured it was probably a fly or mosquito so I did what I always do… I lightly shook my arm to encourage the bug to fly away. About four seconds later, I felt a strong pinch in my underarm. The pinch quickly turned to a slight burn and then BAM… FIRE! I screamed at the pain, threw all my stuff down and jumped away from my Zinnias as I realized I had just been stung by a bee.

The last time I remember being stung by a bee was when I was a sophomore in High School and I don’t remember it being anywhere near this painful. I ran inside, had my husband look to see if the stinger was still in there and then put ice on it immediately. I felt like such a pansy as I sat enduring the pain of this fiery sting for over four hours! I could not believe how painful it was. Perhaps it was because of the tender place he had gotten me, the underarm – or maybe I just am a pansy.

When my husband and I were lying in bed last night, he asked me how my sting felt. Thankfully, it was fine by then; the pain was gone. I looked over at my husband and began to vent about my experience with the best humor I could. I said, “Dumb bee. I hope he is dead. I hope he died fast. I hope all his little bee friends miss him. I hope his little bee boss uses him as an example of how not to react to a human who doesn’t even swat at you.” I paused then said, “Dumb bee.”

Ryan laughed.

Enjoying the sound of my husband’s laugh, I decided to continue. I said, “He really was a dumb bee. I mean, I didn’t do anything to him… I didn’t even see him. I didn’t even swat at him. In fact, I was helping him out by trying to cultivate more flowers for him. Dumb bee.” I paused again before continuing, “What was he doing anyway, trying to pollinate my underarm? I know I smelled really great with the intoxicating aroma of deodorant and sweat mixed more heavily on the sweat side but dang… what a dumb bee!”

Pollinate my underarm… haha, I made myself laugh. I was done though. That was enough bee talk. May you rest in peace little bee, little dumb bee.

I’ve been in recovery for four and a half years now and in that time I have met a lot of different people who are just like me; struggling with self-control, struggling with learning how to make good decisions, struggling with their trust in others and in God. I’ve had many people come and walk beside me to show me the way they did it, to help me think straighter and remind me to turn my face upwards to God first instead of last. After awhile, I started to walk beside others and show them the same things…how I started the process by becoming teachable, how I began to learn to make better decisions by creating necessary accountability and giving them the reminder that God is right there ready and willing to be our first choice for help and answers.

I moved forward into sponsoring others, leading meetings and even helping plant an entire recovery ministry… all the while not realizing I had lost my focus and I had developed an unhealthy approach to how I could help others in recovery. Essentially, I had become just like the dumb bee; trying to pollinate an armpit.

It hit me like a ton of bricks just last Friday. I was sitting at my kitchen table with my sponsee and we were reading through 1 Corinthians 13 verse by verse, taking time to talk about what each verse said to us. As we spoke our hearts and minds to each other, I realized that even though I was her sponsor and even though I had a few more years of sobriety than she did that my place in the journey with her was not to somehow be ahead of her or above her in any sort of wisdom or heightened knowledge. My place in the journey with her was not to be her leader or conscience. My place in my journey with her was to simply walk next to her. And what really amazed me as these thoughts rushed to me was that it wasn’t a struggle to hold myself back so I could walk next to her… I was very comfortable walking beside her because it felt natural and real. There was no pretense, no ego, no pride… just two people beside each other.

Is it perhaps that God wants me to treat all people in life with this same approach? No matter who I am with or what I am doing… I am simply walking beside others? Yes… I think that is what God wants me to see and wants me to try to be.  I am nothing more than a bee trying to pollinate an armpit if I think for one moment that I have any control over anyone else’s growth – or that I have anything to offer without Christ. It is God who changes the hearts and minds of others… not me. It is God who changed me… not the people who walked next to me. Of course He used them to help me which is what I feel He has called me to do too. But to do that I have to get out of His way, let Him prune the flowers, let Him cultivate the growth and do my best to follow His lead. And as I am all keenly aware of now, armpit pollination leads to one of two things: a lot of pain or death. Dumb bee.

I’ve been on a leadership hiatus for awhile, not wanting to make the same ego and pride related mistakes I have made in the past. I felt God calling me to come back to some leadership roles, which I have done but I have been so scared about it. I haven’t even actually begun yet. But with this new realization, I feel a lot less afraid. I’m just going do my best to walk bee-side others and not be a dumb bee.

Say "Cheese"

It’s been a little while since I posted my last article. Have you missed me??? Just kidding. It’s been a very interesting last month and a half. This story will give you an idea of what I’ve been up to... thankfully, it’s all over!

It was Friday night, I had been sick with one of those stomach bugs so I hadn’t eaten anything for a few days. My son had enjoyed the most expensive Valentine candy in the whole world earlier that day… Fun Dip. Why was it so expensive? Oh, because we found out he was allergic to it the hard way. I rushed him to the doctor at 4:00 then stopped off at the pharmacy on the way home to get him the steroids he needed to not scratch all his skin off before morning light. Now 6:00ish, I was getting dinner together for my hubby and son, but I wasn’t going to eat since food still wasn’t terribly appealing to me. Out of habit, I stuffed a piece of sliced Colby cheese in my mouth as I prepared my son’s dinner plate. Oh how I love cheese! In only minutes, a pain begin at the base of my sternum. I thought maybe it was a hunger pang, so I ate another piece of cheese. It got worse as I handed out dinner and tried to do a little living room clean up from the busy day. Before long, I couldn’t stand up straight… the pain grew and grew. I tried everything I knew… antacids, sitting, lying, I even tried to make myself throw up with the wrong end of my toothbrush, but the pain got worse and worse.

I felt like such a wimp. I mean, normal people don’t writhe around in pain when they have a little heart burn, why was I almost in tears. It got worse and worse to the point I felt I might actually explode… in fact, explosion would have been a nice relief. In probably the worst pain of my life I broke down in prayer, praying the prayer God always responds to with immediacy when it is spoken from my heart…

“God, I am in so much pain. I know I deserve this pain… I deserve worse pain for being the filthy sinner that I am. The pain Jesus endured for me is so much greater than this… help me put this in perspective, help me Lord… Help me!” a few seconds later I added, “Tell me what I’m supposed to do!”

I managed to go to the living room and fell at my husband’s feet in pain. I was in tears, and writhing in pain. He didn’t know what to do. I repeated in my head to God, “Tell me what to do God…. I don’t know what to do.” At that very moment, my body began to go into shock. I was hyperventilating, and the blood rushed out of my arms and legs so they curled up became rigid. I began to feel numbness all over my body and I couldn’t speak normally… I was speaking very slowly and stuttering. That was when my husband called 911. The beauty of going into shock is that the pain actually seemed to subside slightly, so as scary as it was to be “in shock” it was a relief, at least from the pain.

The ambulance came and two very kind paramedics took very good care of me. Shoeless, they strapped me to the gurney and put me in the back of the ambulance. They hooked me up to an IV then offered me some morphine. As a recovering alcoholic, morphine is a dangerous drug for me so I had to think about it… but ultimately I said yes. The pain was incredible.

Once at the hospital they kept pumping me with more and more morphine, but no matter how much they gave me, the pain was incredible. I became nauseous, no doubt from all the morphine and they eventually gave me an additional drug to take the edge off the nausea… they basically knocked me out and the rest is fuzzy. Although I do clearly remember the devil women who gave my a sonogram, jabbing her sono-gun into the areas that hurt the most while it hurt the most. To her I say… I know you were just doing your job but… REALLY!!! It hurt. I will try to forgive you.

It was almost midnight and I was released. The pain had subsided (or the drugs had finally worked, not sure) and I slowly walked, shoeless, to the waiting room to wait for my hubby to pick me up. I was high, still in some pain and felt like a little kid, helpless and wandering in the desert waiting for salvation. I held a single piece of paper in my hand that said, “Follow up with your doctor for elevated liver enzymes.”

The emergency room had sent me home with drugs… Vicodin and another kick-ass nausea/anxiety medication that supposedly worked well with Vicodin. The instructions were to take them as needed for pain. In the morning, I was groggy and afraid the pain would return full force so I took the meds right away. By late afternoon the drugs were beginning to wear off and I felt another panic…what if the pain returned? I took another round of meds and went back to sleep. I awoke as my husband began to get into bed. I felt the addictive part of my personality taking hold of me as I saw the Vicodin bottle and thought, “I better take another one, just in case.” I realized I wasn’t in pain at all and thought about lying. I weighed the “high” feeling against my integrity and by pure instinct I grabbed the bottles… and handed them to my husband and said, “Take these… hide them… I don’t trust myself!” He was a little shocked but did as I said. He would become my drug dealer for the next few weeks.

The next morning was Sunday. I got up out of bed determined to go to church. I felt I needed confession and prayed it was a communion day. Guilt was washing over me… I was questioning my sobriety and I was close to tears every second. I recalled my old AA days when some of the AA nazi’s would pound on the table vehemently saying use of any drug nullified their sobriety. I didn’t believe that crap… but I did believe that inappropriate use of a drug was grounds for sobriety interruption. I was about to celebrate 3 years of sobriety and I was wondering… had I used the drugs inappropriately… had I abused them and thus interrupted my sobriety??? We went to church, I had communion and I cried and begged for forgiveness and clarity.

I tortured myself for about two days over this… was I still sober… had I crossed the line??? Here I was getting ready to launch a recovery ministry in Mansfield, Texas on April 7th 2010 – a ministry that has been in the works for over a year and… was I, the ministry leader a fraud? Had I let everyone down… my husband, my kid, my sponsees, my sponsor, myself… God??? Finally it hit me… the devil would love nothing more than for me to question myself and my sobriety to the point of breaking down and quitting the ministry and life style I have grown accustom to. Who cares! My new life is a life of GRACE and LOVE… and in the very moment I recognized I didn’t need the meds for pain, I did exactly what I was supposed to do - I gave them to my husband. I told him I didn’t trust myself. I asked for help.

Well, it turns out I had a bad Gall Bladder. I had it removed on March 19th and everything went perfectly. I have released my husband from his drug dealer duties because I believe with God, I can be okay dealing with the pain and the pain relief.

Before my Gall Bladder surgery but after my 3 year sobriety anniversary, we had a family photo shoot done with SGLY Photography. The pictures turned out INCREDIBLY. Tiffany, the photographer, took some extra time with just me and she captured a great shot of me with my three year sobriety coin. It seems every year right around my sobriety anniversary, something big happens in my life as if the devil were trying to trip me up. I think this whole experience was part of that little idiot’s plan. To me the photoshoot was a celebration of getting through one more of the devil’s schemes. An irony hit me… saying ‘cheese’ is what got those pretty smiles captured on film; a record of joy and achievement. But cheese, Colby to be exact, was also the catalyst to all of the trouble. That’s right, that little piece of cheese I put in my mouth that day was what made my gall bladder finally totally freak out. The pain that cheese caused me makes me wonder if I will ever eat cheese again, but how about I just take it one day at a time instead of swearing it off completely. I am so very thankful for the ability to walk through life one day at a time... with sobriety and with cheese. Thank the Lord, my King!!!

Rolling Around with Regret

We have always made a big deal out of giving things we don’t use anymore away. I don’t believe in holding onto things for a rainy day, especially when we don’t have room at our house to store things we don’t “need.” I always ask myself this question: what are the chances someone else needs this item more than I do? Almost 100% of the time, the chances are pretty good the item needs to have a new home. If I really needed it… I wouldn’t be asking myself the question. A step beyond that is assessing the things I can give away that aren’t extras in my life. Those things are usually things I like and want but they are also things I know I don’t need. It can actually hurt to give up some of those things… but that’s what sacrifice is all about.

About every three months, we have a “clean out” day where we all go through our stuff and see what can go. Little Brett is part of that process. He is getting to the age where he fights it a little more than he used to but I think it is a good learning experience for him regardless. He will pick out the toys he doesn’t really play with anymore and we will talk about how another kid who doesn’t have much would really enjoy it. I let him bag his stuff up then we go to the mission and he gives them the bag. Most times, he is happy about it and feels good. He also sees that his mommy and daddy do the same thing… and we talk about it, so I think that makes a big difference too.

The other day Brett, who is four now, had a melt-down out of the blue. And it was the real thing… tears marking real sadness just flowed from him. At first I thought he was just “acting” but then I realized he was experiencing a brand new feeling he had never had before… it was the feeling of regret!

Right before this past Christmas, Brett had gathered some toys and books he was ready to give away. We ended up giving it to the man who helped us rake leaves one day (if you haven’t read that story – here’s the link:“The Stranger” scroll down a little.) One of the things Brett gave away that day was a Thomas the Train Whistle and Wheels Couch he had gotten for Christmas in 2008. To be honest, I was surprised he was willing to give it up because it was pretty cool. The truth of the matter was, it was too small for him. He is a very tall boy and it just wasn’t sturdy enough to hold him up. I think there was more frustration for him than joy when it came to trying to enjoy it. Anyway, he decided to give it away.

Fast forward to his melt-down the other day.., it had been 4 months since he gave his Thomas couch away and all of a sudden, he wanted it back. He asked me where it was and when I reminded him he had given it away, he simply couldn’t handle it. He asked when he was going to get it back… he said he didn’t mean to give it away “forever and ever.” This had NEVER happened before so I was a bit shocked. My heart began to ache for him as I saw how deeply saddened he was over this. I gently told him the truth of how it didn’t belong to him anymore and told him how nice he was to have given it to someone in need. Of course, that didn’t matter, he was flat out upset… inconsolable. I wanted to hug him but he wouldn’t let me. He cried and cried repeating, “I want my Thomas couch back” over and over. Man did that bring up memories for me!!!! I could so relate to this four year old mourning a decision he had made. Of course, four year olds don’t understand consequences… and I have to be honest, I’m not that much different than a four year old in ways. My alcoholic brain makes consequences difficult for me to comprehend (that’s why I have a sponsor who helps me figure that stuff out).

It was painful for me as a mother to watch this life lesson play out, not able to comfort my child’s painful regret. He cried, rolling around on the floor so sadly for almost 40 minutes… then finally, when he was ready and on his terms… asked me if I would hold him, which I did quickly. It took some time for him to “get over it” but he eventually did. He went on with his day seemingly happy until dinner time when we played our around the table game “Mad, Sad, Glad” where each of us tell one thing that made us feel each feeling that day. When it was his turn, he remembered the sadness of missing his Thomas Coach and the whole thing started over. It took about 20 minutes for him to ask for a hug that time and before long, he was back to normal again.

I guess that is how it is for me when I think about the things I regret doing or not doing. The gut-wrenching sadness is overwhelming and feels as though it will last forever but, of course, it passes eventually. Each time I am reminded of it after that, the pain lessens slightly. I don’t think God wants me to have regrets that last longer than that initial burst. I think God knows my heartache and has great compassion for me, just as I did as Brett’s mother watching him work through it. I think God is willing to do whatever it takes to make me feel better but I am just like Brett. I roll around on the floor not wanting to be comforted. I want my misery! Assuming there is someone still hanging around by the time I’ve had enough self-pity, I request a hug, but it’s on my terms.

To me, regrets are sort of like the unused stuff I let pile up around the house… if they aren’t fulfilling a need in my life, it’s time to let them go. One of my favorite 12 step sayings is this, “If you’ve got one foot in yesterday and one foot in tomorrow, you’re in the perfect position to crap all over your today.” To me, regrets are part of yesterday and have no place in my tomorrow so I have to make the choice to let God comfort me today, in His way, on His terms. His terms are so simple but I complicate them terribly… I believe His terms are… give it once and let it go. The cool thing about God is that unlike a mother who watches helplessly as her child agonizes, He can remove the pain part of regret if I let Him. The memories will remain, as a gentle reminder of what once was, but the pain that was once attached… can just flitter away. If it doesn’t, then the only one I have to blame is myself for not letting Him take it.

In closing, I believe God wants me to find rest and peace in Him. He gave His Son, to me, as a person in need. It hurt Him deeply to make that sacrifice because Jesus wasn’t just an extra chair sitting around the kingdom that God didn’t need anymore. I think by accepting God’s comfort on His terms, I am actually glorifying the sacrifice He made. When I come to Him and allow Him to lift my regret, comfort my pain and soothe my roll-around-on-the-floor restless pangs… He knows it was worth it. In short, I know without doubt that God will never want His “Thomas the Train Whistle and Wheels Couch” back, so I’m going to do my best not to waste the gift He gave me.