Connecting Faith and Life Through Brokenness

I haven’t written anything for a long time.  That’s mostly because I have felt unqualified to do so. To explain, when I write, I feel as though what I write should be edifying, encouraging, and/or helpful.  In considering the spiritual struggles of the last year, I did not feel as though I had any right to open my laptop.  

Although, by now, I could write a book on the journey thus far, the long story short is that our daughter has been diagnosed with depression and anxiety, but the struggle began long before the diagnosis.  While it is safe to say that the last four or five years have been a challenge, nothing compares to this last one.

There are many directions I could go in discussing the struggles that accompany such a diagnosis; however, the current road I am traveling is called loneliness.

Being the parent of a child with mental health issues is very lonely.  And if it is lonely for me, I can’t imagine how lonely it must be for my 20-something daughter. 

If someone is sick with a physical illness, support is often swift and concrete.   People are quick to swoop in with encouragement and offer tangible assistance.  

The same is not true when it comes to mental illness.  The pain and debilitation are every bit as real, but the reaction from others is vastly different. Where a physical illness will compel action, mental illness repels.  

The result is loneliness. . .and if one lets it take root, bitterness.  

And here’s why.

Technically, my husband and I belong to two faith communities in the town in which we live.  For 25 years, we were/have been members of a church.  Within the last two, we started attending a neighboring church, where we felt/feel more spiritually challenged and fed. 

Both my husband and I grew up in this community and have lived here our whole lives. Likewise, we both work in this community, so we have many personal and professional connections in both faith communities.  It’s a small town; there are no secrets, and so our daughter’s struggle (and ours with it) is no secret either. 

And yet, day after day, week after week, we struggle alone, as does she.  There are no rules to this ever-shifting game, so we do the best we can based on faith, love, and common sense. Sometimes we hit the mark; sometimes, we miss. 

I feel the weight of judgment.  Perhaps it is all in my head, but that doesn’t change how I feel. No one has overtly accused me of anything, but I feel the accusation concerning my parenting.  I feel people withdraw – as if this struggle is contagious – that our poor parenting choices or our daughter’s illness might infect their children or their families.  

There are many Sundays when I am in my pew, dying inside after struggling through one of our daughter’s meltdowns, exhausted by the struggle, bewildered by the pain.  Why me? Why us? What are we doing wrong? When will it end?  Will it end?  What do I do now?  What should I be doing differently? 

I also mourn for my daughter, who is missing out on the joy and discovery of being 20 due to the chains and imprisonment of depression and anxiety.  

I pride myself on being a woman of strong faith – keeping my eyes on Him – even when what is happening around me feels like a tornado spinning out of control.  I know that every hurt, struggle, and challenge is a part of His plan. I know that if I remain faithful my reward will be great, even if it is something as simple as a deeper, stronger faith. 

And I value this experience.  Really, I do.  I appreciate the fact that God wants more for me (as well as my daughter), and that is why is bringing me (her, and our family) through this valley. As much as it hurts, I would not wish it away.  I am thankful that He sees me (us) as a project worth pursuing.  

And yet.

It is times like these that I really wish I had a church family to surround me, support me and encourage me.  I wish the same for my daughter.  I pray that someone would move according to God’s prompting and enter her life – hem her in, patiently befriend her, and encompass her with unconditional love. I know that God is enough, but sometimes, I wish that I could see the face of God through another person on this earth. 

That’s what I was thinking as we were sitting in the church parking lot this morning.  We were already to go in to church this morning, and just as we were parking, my daughter called; a meltdown was underway. After ending the call, my husband started the car, and we headed toward home. 

As we passed car after car of eager church-goers, I wiped the tears from eyes. I vowed to my husband that if and when we make it through this dark forest, I will make sure that no one ever feels as lonely and isolated as I do.  I pray that God will open my eyes and my heart so that I can see that hurting, lonely parent, so she never feels alone and forgotten.  

Make Your Mouth Water

                In some ways, running in the summer is harder work than running during the fall or spring.  Even though you don’t have to dress in layers or dodge snow banks, the oppressive heat and humidity can be just as much of an obstacle. 

                As I came home recently from a particularly-long run, my husband extended his cup of iced tea for me to take a drink.  I waved it away and headed straight for the fridge.  I knew exactly what I wanted.

                After I grabbed the squeeze bottle of liquid and dumped in a couple of ice cubes for good measure, I raise the bottle to my lips and took a good, long pull.  

                There is no way to describe how good a drink of ice-cold water tastes to someone unless s/he has been that thirsty.  Even then, there are no adequate words.  It’s just that those who have had the experience get it.  At that moment – that point of extreme dehydration - that water is the best and only thing that quenches thirst.  

                Proverbs 25:25 has an important point to make about cold water as well. “Like cold water to a weary soul is good news from a distant land.”

                Just as an icy glass of water is the only way to slake true thirst, the same is true of a kind word or good news. . .that is the result of someone following God’s prompting.  Both provide true, God-ordained relief at precisely the moment they are needed.

                Whenever we hear that Little Voice in our heads. . .you know, the One who asks us to do or say seemingly weird things at random times, and follow through, we are the “good news from a distant land.”  We are allowing ourselves to be a cup of cold water to someone who is dying of thirst.

                Whose squeeze bottle is God asking you to be today?

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.

 

Parental Reflections

I am the queen of the pro-con list.  So before, I list all the things we should have done differently, I am listing the things that I think we did well.  

*Disclaimer: The content of this regards the parental decisions that Mike and I made. This is not a commentary on our kids. The beauty of it all is that God has a plan for all our lives, and life (and people) always turn out exactly the way He knew it would.  There are so no surprises with God.  

Parenting decisions that Mike and I did right (or, at least, are figuring out)

1. We pray for our kids, their futures, and their future spouses, and have since they were born.  “You people who remind the Lord of your needs in prayer should never be quiet.  You should not stop praying to Him. Take no rest, all you who pray.  Give the Lord no rest. . .Remind Him of His promises, and never let Him forget them.”  Isaiah 62:6-7

2. We showed up.  We attended concerts, sporting events, and activities. Even if they didn’t acknowledge us, the kids knew we were there.

3. We took them to church and made sure church and church activities were a priority. If they wanted to attend an activity, event, camp, or trip, we somehow scraped together the $ to make it happen.  I don’t regret a single dollar. 

4. We were/are reliable.  If they need us, we make it happen somehow.

5. We made them write thank-you notes. 

 

6. We didn’t pay their college tuition. It was their education, their dime, and their responsibility.  We paid for books, car insurance, phone and basic necessities while they were in college.  The deal was if they quit school, it was considered an adult choice with adult consequences, which meant/means the freebies (quoted above) come to an end. 

7. We listen. We suggest or opine when asked.  The key (and this has been an acquired habit, especially with the youngest child) is not to spaz.  Too strong of a reaction, and that’s it; the cord of communication is cut. I feel confident in saying that, for the most part, our kids consider it safe to tell us anything, good or bad.  One of the best things my mom ever said to me when I was in a pickle was “you’re smart; you’ll figure it out.”  Now, I say the same thing.  I also use the phrases, “Why not?” and “What are the pros and cons?”

8.  We respect boundaries.  This one was hard to learn and practice.  When Nick first moved out, I was apparently texting and calling too much.  He told me in as nice a way possible to back off and wait for him to call.  It hurt my feelings at first, but I totally get it. He was cutting the cord so that he could find his way.  Now, I leave them both alone and wait for them to initiate. Sometimes, it’s lonely, but I get that it is necessary in the bigger scheme of things.

9.  We were a united front in decision-making.  Although there have been a few times when I didn’t agree with my husband (and vice versa), I didn’t contradict him in front of the kids, nor did he contradict me.  As far as I know, we never let the kids play us against one another. 

10. We love each other (and them). Hopefully, we have provided a good model of marriage and relationships for them.

Now, it’s time for the harder part. . .

Things I wish we had done (through age 18…many of these dovetail together)…and when I say, “we,” I mostly mean me

1. We should have made them do chores and help with household/ family functioning.  Since they were always so busy (or didn’t meet my perfectionistic standards), we didn’t make them do chores or cook or do laundry or help with home improvement projects.  In retrospect, this was a bad idea since being in a family means working and pulling together. 

2.  We should have required mandatory attendance at family or sibling events.  We gave them a choice, which, in retrospect, I would have changed.  (See #1). It’s important for siblings to support each other.  Long after we are gone, they will only have each other. 

3. We should have been the boss of the family schedule more.  Since they were members of the family, the kids’ input and preferences were important. However, I wish I would have guarded our family time more, even with church activities. 

4. We should have made them experience natural consequences (schoolwork, missing deadlines, etc.) all the time.  This one is huge.  I am ashamed to admit that I intervened far too often.  As moms, we want to smooth the rough spots.  That’s not all bad, but it’s not realistic either. We all learn from our mistakes because we don’t like the consequences.  Don’t handicap your kids from experiencing that valuable lesson.

5. We should have made them buy more “wants.”  Of course, we paid for necessities (jeans, shoes, coats, sport equipment and fees, etc.).  However, we should have made them pay for non-necessities such as extra sports clothing, tuxes/dresses, etc.  This would have been a great opportunity for lessons in finance, delayed gratification, and responsibility. Some friends of ours did the “halvsies” approach with their kids – they paid half and the kids paid half for everything.  Kids learn to respect how much stuff costs, and they are more apt to take care of stuff if they are spending their own hard-earned $.

6. We should have stayed firm rather than caved into parental peer pressure, particularly in regard to the cell phone.  Keep kids off the stupid thing as long as possible.  The blasted nuisance just adds unnecessary layers of trouble, drama, and expense. Just because other parents are caving in, it doesn’t mean you have to. It will be hard, but if something does not fit your family value system, stay firm.

7. We should have backed off.  This is similar to #3 but different.  I admit I was helicopter-y.  Recently, Nick and I have discussed this very issue. I did way too much for both of them.  Make your kids complete the paperwork, make the phone calls, and do the footwork.  That’s all a part of growing up.

8. We should have let them struggle.  No one likes to watch stressed or struggling kids, but that’s how they learn to advocate for themselves.  If they don’t like a situation, then they need to figure out a way to change it.  A wise friend once told me that when kids struggle, after it is all said and done, “a parent needs to be a soft place to land.” 

9.  We should have let them problem-solve on their own.  This is similar to #7.  Road blocks are opportunities to find another way.  Since I am a natural problem-solver, I nipped their struggles in the bud because I thought I was helping them.  Problem-solving requires creativity, common sense, and innovation, all three of which are desirable qualities.

10. We should have had more of a life outside parenting.  For me, in particular, I based my self-concept on being a mom, which is why the empty-nest stage had been a struggle for me.  Being a mom or dad is a huge part of who one is, but it’s not the only thing.