Tuesday, June 28, 2016

The Musings of an Hour



Today, it has been exactly one month since I heard from or spoke to my daughter.  I have never been disconnected from her for this long. That word, disconnected, has more significance than just a physical connection.  She and I have been disconnected from each other for far longer than that.  I do not know if I can actually put my finger on a date as far as when we started drifting apart.  

If I have to choose a date, then I choose the day after her graduation party.  I do not want to go into details about that because of the hurt and humiliation involved.  There are certain things that happen in life that the very thought of them is just so dangerous that they cannot be acknowledged. Like when I think of what happened, it still takes my breath away because I think, “Wait. That had to have been some other family.  Not mine.” Anyway, I think that’s when the first major fissure occurred, and the reason (at least, in my opinion) is because I chose her dad over her.  Even now, two years later, I would choose him all over again, especially in considering her character.  

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During this month, I have spent a lot of time grappling with whether or not I am doing the right thing.  After a particularly difficult visit and exchange at the lake, where we celebrated her birthday, I sent a desperate email to the pastor at the church we have been attending.  I was desperate for some quality, Biblical advice, and he certainly delivered.  The gist of the email was that I needed to stop chasing after her and allowing her to make me her personal whipping post. 

He continued: “I would guess that you receive most of her vitriol because you are the one who stretches the boundary.  Stop.  The prodigal son made it quite clear he was not interested in his father’s counsel or help.  So the father didn’t try to interfere when his son started making poor choices.  He simply kept his heart soft toward his son, so when the day came for his return, he would be welcomed without hesitation.  That’s your biggest challenge now.  How do you keep your heart soft toward a daughter who has rejected you?  Remember the cross.  Jesus kept his heart soft toward his executioners.”

So I decided to just back way off.  Just stand in one spot and wait for her to come to me. The unintended result of this decision has been a total freeze in communication.  I did not expect that.  From my perspective, my communicative inaction is not due to anger or bitterness.  I am just following through on advice, and believe me, it has required extreme willpower at times to do so.  Let me explain.

Throughout the month (as well as throughout the last couple of years), I have experienced some low lows with regard to this kid and her behavior.  It’s not that she is a bad person or that I do not love her.  It is just that she has made and (I believe) she continues to make decisions that do not reflect the way in which she was raised, the values of this family or our beliefs, or her best interests. 

Unfortunately, the time of day in which I struggle the most is not day; it is night.  The 3 a.m.s are worst.  For whatever reason, this is usually the “witching” hour for me.  I wake, I moan, I toss, I turn, and imagine the most macabre and improbable, absolutely absurd scenarios involving her. My paranoid, anguished mind must release all the unfinished business that I have repressed throughout the day. While all of the scenarios are extreme and (hopefully) delusional, they seem utterly plausible at the time.  They are literally my worst nightmares bubbling to the surface to traumatize me on a nightly basis.  

At first, I would counter-attack by beginning a fervent round of prayer to obliterate these scenarios.  That brought a measure of piece.  I will admit, however, that I am just plain tired.  Worn down by the constant emotional battering of these nocturnal incubi, which is what I really believe they are, demons sent by Satan to make matters seem worse, horrifying, hopeless. I still pray, but somewhat anemically.  I have faith that the means are insignificant compared to the end that God has in mind for her, for me. . .but at 3 a.m., my defenses are weak.

And there is my struggle.  Am I doing the right thing?  In moments of weakness, I have had my phone in my hand, ready to send a text to her, and it takes all the will power in my head and body to put the phone down and think of something else.  But is this the right thing to do?

I will admit, and I hope that I do not come off as sounding too pompous in saying this, that I feel a little like Job at times, especially within this last month.  I realize that life is rough for everyone, and that we all face hardships and trials, but I feel as though I have been given more than my fair share lately.  As I read that line, it sounds so pathetic.  Such a whiner.  But that’s how I feel.  A friend’s serious illness. Unexpected financial difficulties.  Job challenges.  I have always said that life is bearable when at least one area of your life is going well.  For example, if work sucks, it is bearable if your family life is ok.  Well, my family is not ok.  While it’s true that things are fine with my husband, son, and our extended families, I cannot say that my family is ok because there is someone missing at the table.  This leads me to my next thought. . .I have not said this aloud to anyone and only just shared this thought with my friend a couple of days ago because I did not want to make a faulty comparison or belittle someone else’s experience, but   

I feel like my daughter has died.  In some ways, MY daughter has. But I can’t say anything like that aloud. . .to anyone.   I envision people rolling their eyes in disgust at me.  “Ugh.  Your daughter is alive; she’s just being a brat.  Quit being such a drama queen.  Think of the people who WANT to see and touch their daughter and CAN’T.  You CAN.”

And I agree.  My circumstance IS different.  But here is my rebuttal:

It FEELS as though my daughter has died.  In death, the physical relationship between two people ends.  The pain is in the separation because it is an undesirable end.  My grief is different because my daughter is not dead.  Not only is there the pain of separation; there is the brutal reality that she chooses separation and no longer wants a relationship. She is so close – right across town – and so very far away.  Unreachable. The reality of that is so very painful but so completely socially unacceptable to say, and so, it all stays locked inside, finally making its way out at 3 a.m.   

So here I am.  One month out, wondering when and where this will all end.  I have mentally prepared for the fact that this could be my reality for years versus weeks or months.  God is in control of the end game, of that I am 100% sure. I don’t waver in that belief.  Ever.  He is also in charge of the timeline, not me.  And as He has demonstrated again and again, His timeline is always perfect, so I don’t question that either.  I also know that this Divine Comedy (meaning, it will have a happy ending) is more than just about Erika.  It is also about me.  

Even though I am one of the players in this drama, I am able to take on a third person omniscient point-of-view to know that God is working a transformation in me as well.  And while I may not like the circumstances and complications surrounding this plot, I know that the denouement will be worth it – that things will end far better than they started and that I will be closer to the person He wants me to be.  With that in mind, I willingly and humbly submit.  If the present troubles, difficulties, and heartaches mean that I will be closer to Him and closer to the person He needs (not just desires) me to be, then bring it, Lord. 

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.” II Corinthians 5:7

I gave myself an hour to write, and now, my hours is up. Right now, the words of the song, “Thy Will Be Done,” by Hillary Scott, are significant and have become my prayer. Look it up on youtube.

I’m so confused
I know I heard you loud and clear
So, I followed through
Somehow I ended up here
I don’t wanna think
I may never understand
That my broken heart is a part of your plan
When I try to pray
All I’ve got is hurt and these four words.”

Chorus:
Thy will be done (x3).

I know you’re good
But this don’t feel good right now
And I know you think
Of things I could never think about
It’s hard to count it all joy
Distracted by the noise
Just trying to make sense
Of all your promises
Sometimes I gotta stop
Remember that you’re God / And I am not / So …

Thy will be done (X3)
Like a child on my knees all that comes to me is
Thy will be done (X2)
Thy will.

I know you see me
I know you hear me, Lord
Your plans are for me
Goodness you have in store.
I know you see me
I know you hear me, Lord.