Why I'm Happy to be a Woman in the USA

Not a political post... Although it's likely to be perceived as a political post, this certainly is not written with that intent.  As you can read from the blog post preceding this one, I have absolutely no love lost for either of the former Presidential Candidates.  This post is only to say this... "I'm glad to be a woman in the USA."

In the past few days, my Facebook page has literally almost exploded with outraged women over the inauguration of Donald Trump.  Don't get me wrong, I understand their anger, fear, etc. very much, and I support 100% their right to peaceably protest unjust behaviors (even though it seems preemptive, but that's also their prerogative). What I don't understand is the way many of the rallies and marches and Facebook posts are being presented. 

I am strong, dignified, capable, passionate, valuable, and powerful. I don't need anyone to agree with me in order for those things to be true. They are true about me, because they are true about all people born on earth. I know this to be true about you, reader, and that belief fuels this post.  In fact, I believe that if we all believed those things true  about one another and acted on those beliefs, we would  come face-to-face with the reality of the peace we all claim to want. 

I'm not just any human - I'm a female one.  I find that my strength is in my softness of soul. My power is in my peaceful persuasiveness. My deference is the difference that makes me entirely unmasculine, and that's exactly what I always want to be...not just female but feminine.  I don't want to just look at men and say like my foremothers, "Anything you can do, I can do better." Rather, I want to be and do all the things a man canNOT be and canNOT do.  Sure we are able to do almost all of the same kinds of jobs men do, but emphasizing the point we are basically a better version of male while simultaneously acting out the very worst parts of stereotypical females - cattiness, irrationality, tirades, assumptions, pettiness, insults, emotional outbursts, anger, control, mocking, manipulation, back-biting, and death-giving speech??  It's ironic to say the least.

 The idea that I can be a more powerful and better woman by becoming more like a man doesn't add up to logic for me. When I see a woman, I see an astonishing degree of physical beauty not matched in the whole rest of creation. I hear her lilting laughter and see her rosy cheeks. I see her beautiful belly round and full with a child she already somehow loves and always will. I see her tenderly kiss a child's pain away. I see her reject the limelight to help those she loves succeed.  I see her arrange and rearrange her family's schedule in order that everyone has the absolute most time, encouragement, and nurture she can muster. I see her make meals for the sick and visit the homebound. I see her rock her sister's baby so sis can finally get some sleep.  I see her hold her family together by sheer determination when everything around her is falling apart. Why would I ever want to give over a single part of such dignifying, missional behavior for the sake of becoming as much like the other half of the world's population as possible? The world doesn't need women who want to be virtually indistinguishable from men. It needs women not afraid to take on the very real task and intensely personal risk of fully and unabashedly embracing their femininity for the good of all. 

I'm more convinced every day - as I talk to rational women and men across the political and economic spectrum -  that the women who changed and are changing the stereotypes that contribute to our perceived oppression  are the ones who ask for no special treatment, no particular recognition, and who exercise control over only one person.... SELF. They go to work, do an excellent job, give respect and humble help to bosses and coworkers alike, and offer uniquely feminine perspective and benefit without simpering apology or aggressive demands.

We absolutely can and should speak out for the women of the world who face abuse, persecution, and marginalization because of their gender. However, I'm not going to even pretend I can somehow empathize with them by implying that my situation in the USA in 2017 even remotely touches their agonizing, often almost Dark Age  daily existence. That would be an insult to those trafficked, the mutilated, the abused, the controlled, the hidden, the raped, and the murdered, and women aren't the only ones who suffer those awful abuses.  My volunteer efforts for rights will be spent on behalf of all humans in situations mentioned above...but I don't have to be doing volunteer work to make my mark as a woman.  I can simply live every day with the full intention of bringing the life  that not only my physical body but my mind and sprit were designed to give to all humanity with whom I come in contact today. 

Why I'm Done Compromising in November

Lying... lying is the same thing as telling the person to whom you’re lying, “You’re too stupid to know how I’m manipulating you right now.  You’re not worth the truth.  My own worth is far above yours.  You’re not worth what it would cost me to do right by you.  You’re not even worth the discomfort I would feel by telling you the truth about the wrong I’ve chosen to you do to you.   That is why I lie to you, because I am up here.  You are down there.  You aren’t my fellow-man.  You are a thing for me to use when convenient and/or of some benefit to the betterment of my situation.  

I’ve never been truly represented by either of the two ridiculous parties that currently form my nation’s two-party system.  I have identified more with the Republican party in areas of sanctity of human life issues and in capitalism and free trade issues, but there are just as many areas with which I disagree with the Republican party has disappointed, annoyed, and even sickened me - especially as the years roll on.  It has become more and more clear that both parties have a similar goal of bigger government, a more dependent public, and less freedom - despite their sometimes vehement claims to the contrary.  I have become more sick, more wracked with anxiety, than I’ve ever imagined I could be over a vote... over a stinking vote.  How could a thinking people have let this happen? 

I have been torn in two in political races in my life... many times.  This year, I’m more disgusted than ever with the corner into which I’m being forced.  When I heard that Donald Trump was running for president, I literally laughed out loud.  I mean, the fact that he can look at that hair in the mirror every day and still walk out of the house that way aside, I could not believe how ludicrous it was - the idea that a misogynistic egomaniac that could claim things as asinine as “my wife is more beautiful than yours” to another candidate would ever even have a chance at either party’s nomination... completely ridiculous.  Despite chronic "blurts-disease", blatant racist and sexist bigotry, and grandiose claims, his candidacy inexplicably gained steam, and he continued careening more precariously close to victory.  I still don't quite believe this is happening.

I mean, Hillary was going to happen no matter what. The powers that be would not let any amount of lawbreaking, lying under oath, and other crimes against the American people keep her from getting her party’s nomination for president.  That was the deal.  That is the deal that has kept her from any shame or compunction when committing these crimes that have ended in the deaths of men of far more honor and dignity than she could muster in 100 lifetimes.  And she manages it all with a know-it-all smugness and contemptible sneers.  I keep hearing, "You have to vote for Hillary!  You'll be making history - getting a woman into the Oval Office."  A friend and I were talking yesterday about how much we'd like to be able to point to her as a positive role model and tell our daughters about how we helped elect the first woman President.  I can't do those things.  I know the key to my daughters' character and happiness in life will depend on truth-telling, genuine humility, compassion, and truly respecting and valuing those around them.  If I can't see at least some of these values in a woman who is likely to become a significant role model to them, then I do myself, them, and all women a disservice by helping such a woman gain arguably the most powerful position of leadership in the free world.  My vote tells them that I agree this is a good woman whom they should emulate. For the same reason, I won't vote for Donald Trump either.  Do you want to know how Hillary could get my vote?  By admitting her wrongs... by owning up to the many very public lies, cover-ups, and mistakes of her past and by truly making amends to those she's damaged along the way.  

Don't get me wrong.  I’d love to vote for a woman!!  I’d vote for a woman the likes of Condoleeza Rice with every fiber of my being.  The kind of woman I hope to eventually vote for will be full of strength and dignity.  She will be honorable and humble.  She will be able to admit when she’s wrong and will ask for help from those more knowledgeable than herself and respect the strengths of those around her.  She will not let her emotions make her look like an “irrational female” nor will she let her pride lead her to make a fool of herself and our country.  She will definitely NOT be the things I would never want in a friend.  She will NOT be a catty, snarky, conniving liar who tosses the worth of me and every other American over for her own motives at every possible opportunity.  She will not be a woman (and "first gentleman?") tainted with scandal after humiliating scandal. She will not spout the ideals of a feminist while remaining married to a philandering, embarrassing, very literal ball and chain for the sake of her ladder-climbing political goals. The woman I hope to vote for someday will have a supportive and loyal husband who believes in and enhances his wife’s strengths and her holds her dignity in highest regard.  He will not dishonor her in public or private.  He will be proud to support her because he loves her for being everything a man CAN’T ever intrinsically be - a life-giver, a nurturer, a heart AND a head at once, and believes those very things will make her an excellent - strong yet compassionate - leader of the “free world”.  She won't be perfect, but she'll be trying to do right by a country she loves.  Until a female candidate has at least some of these qualities, I'm quite content to wait on a better chance to make history.  

When in a Dublin pub this past May, a young British patron asked me, “So you’re American, right?  Hillary or Donald?”  I didn’t hesitate with my emphatic answer of, “Neither, never, ever, ever.”  He said, “Hmm... isn’t that interesting.  Every American I’ve met says that.  So WHO IS voting for these people??”  I had no answer for that.  He said, “We all think your political system has to do with only 2 things, ‘money’ and ‘political clout’. Donald has money.  She has the other.  That’s why they will come out of these primaries on top and why you’ll have to pick one or the other.”  Well, what system doesn’t depend on those things?  I mean it.  I’d seriously like a one-way ticket to a place where politics were actually determined by the interest of the people... where a man has the courage to stand up and say, “I’m not going to run one political ad, not going to buy a bus with my picture on it and travel the country, not going to spend a dime campaigning.  I’m going to use the money I would normally be expected to spend on those things and give it to start paying down the national debt.”  Yes, it’d be a tiny drop in an ocean of debt, but it’s sincerity that is always sorely lacking in our candidates.  My ideal candidate would say something like, “My first term will be devoted to systematically dismantling big government and the waste that inevitably goes with it and to repairing the broken relationships we have with so many other countries.  My second term, if you’ll have me, will be spent rebuilding our own broken economy and broken healthcare system.”  Too simple?  Yes, but we are all tired of what politics has become.  Something drastically different is in order.  

I see such strong statements flying around on Facebook on both sides of this election.  “Anyone who votes for Trump is a complete idiot.”  “If you’re voting for Hillary you have no conscience at all.”  What strikes me about these blanket statements is that we are actually willing to make enemies of our “friends” over two people who, I think all of us can admit, are really not people of scruples, morals, humility, or honesty.  I would go so far as to say that, in any traditional sense of the word, neither of these candidates for President are even “likable”.  Yet, I see people willing to stake their trust, their opinion, and even their relationships on two people who don’t give a care about any of us beyond their desire to manipulate which box we check in that voting booth come November.  Both candidates have and will continue to make wide sweeping promises to “make America great again” or to unite us.  We are all smart enough to know that those statements aren’t things they could ever accomplish with 4 or even 8 years in office. Yet we are allowing our two party system to turn us into little agenda-pushing, propaganda-spreading minions.  Unless we stop playing along, it’ll never stop.  We need more parties, y’all.  We need more options than the two parties fighting relentlessly over our votes, offering us everything from free college to free cell phones to big, high, ‘uge border walls.  That being said, stop it.  We are a country as divided as we’ve ever been before, but most of us want to see reconciliation and healing in our land.  Stop letting Hillary and Donald (or anyone else in power, for thatmatter) turn us from the emotionally-raw, exhausted, hurting citizens we already are into angry advocates spoiling for a fight with our friends and family in a fight that isn’t even ours.  By ALL means, stand for causes and ideals.  Better yet, act to benefit those causes and ideals.  After all, it’s only by changing ourselves that we will unify, be healed, and be “great again”.  It is my hope that if any of us feels ardent devotion to either of these candidates compelling us to post something that doesn’t have any possibility of bringing unity, healing, or making ME/YOU a better person, we will pause and ponder whether we truly know the heart, motives, and intentions of our candidate well enough to stake relationships on him/her.  In the end, no matter how good the politician, all “We the People” have left in the aftermath of any election is one another, a President who all but sold his/her soul to get where he/she is, and, quite possibly in this election year, voter’s remorse and a really bad hangover.

The Gift of Good Grief

This past Sunday my grandpa died of complications of cancer and emphysema at the ripe old age of 84.  It was kind of  a miracle in itself that he lived to be that old, because he smoked from the time he was 16 up until he had to go into the hospital for a week when he had an aortic aneurysm about 15 years ago.  He lived a full and good life on Earth.  I wrote his obituary linked here. If you read the obituary, you'd know my dad's dad was just great.  If not, just take my word for it.  He was so involved in our everyday lives... by his choice.  He always emphasized the importance of family and genuinely enjoyed my sisters and I as children as well as our own children.  Every Tuesday for the past 6-8 months, we took food to my grandpa at his home.  My grandma died a bit over two years ago, and he got pretty lonely at times.  We so enjoyed those times with him, and our children got to really know and appreciate who he was.  They will have such good memories of their fun times with him - just like I do.

During the last few months of his life, during his slow yet steady decline, he lost his ability to leave the house, prepare any food for himself, and eventually even showers, bathroom visits, and dressing himself were something he couldn't do anymore.  During the decline of those weeks, we found ourselves doing more for him each time - making the tea that he used to make when we were coming over, getting his food from the dishes for him, and eventually even cutting his food for him.  Our kiddos took great care in helping with those things.

Last Saturday morning, I got the news that he had had a very difficult night Friday and that he was unable to speak clearly anymore and that they thought he would need to be moved to the local hospice home.  He was ready.  After he was transported, I knew I needed to go be with him and the rest of our family.  So I went to tell our oldest son Austin (age 19) that I was going to make the drive to hospice.  He said, "I'm coming with you, mom."  As much as Austin loved my grandpa, he loves taking care of his family members - especially me and his sisters and aunts.  When we arrived, Grandpa looked poorly.  His lips were blue, his breathing was heavily labored, his eyes wouldn't open, and he couldn't talk to us in anything more than the occasional disoriented mumble.  It was hard to watch, but it got much harder.

My older daughters, Sadie (almost 15) and Claire (12) were at their dad's for the weekend, but when I texted to let them know my grandpa was that bad off, they told him they'd like to come home and be there for me and the rest of the family.  I was so happy to have them come, and I was so grateful that their dad was willing to drop everything, miss the rest of their visit, and bring them 90 minutes out of the city to us.

Grandpa began to get more and more restless and agitated... despite his eyes being closed, he was obviously not comfortable, and he couldn't seem to get that way.  He couldn't move himself in the bed.  The only thing he could do was raise his arms above his head (we think, in order to help him breathe easier) and pull his covers on or push them off.  As the day progressed, we began to have to help him hold his arms up, and we also used the sponges and a syringe of water to moisten his lips and mouth.  My grandpa was always one of the most self-sufficient and independent people I've ever known.  He always did for himself and for others.  Tears flowed so freely as I watched my sister across the bed from me - both of us thinking the same things no doubt.

My husband was working 72 hour weeks at the time, and he stopped to see Grandpa and bring the other two children Levi (almost 9) and Violet (7) to us.  About an hour later is when Sadie and Claire arrived.  At first, I was worried about how they would feel seeing Grandpa in such poor condition.  They approached the bed cautiously and qudietly...not really knowing what to think.  Before I knew it, they joined peacefully into this amazing blessing we call "grief".  There were 20 or so of us there - some arriving later.  We took turns caring for him and one another.  Everyone was quietly walking around, hugging, crying together, stroking one another's hair, snuggling in chairs together, getting each other food/drink, and giving quietly encouraging looks and words.  Each one of my children touched my hair, arms, shoulders, etc. to give me supportive touch.  My sister's 12 year old son went out to the nurse's station to thank them for taking such good care of "Wayne" and giving them hugs.  My dad's cousin and his wife went to a local grocery store and brought us back snack/comfort food and offered to go pick up my sister and nephew at the airport so that we had one less thing about which to worry.  My mom's sister's and her husband came out and prayed with us for him to have peace.  My other grandparents (my mom's parents) came out and loved on him.  My grandpas were best buddies, and the night before his move to hospice, my maternal grandma and grandpa had brought him his favorite meal.  He had gotten sick for lack of oxygen a few minutes into his meal, and they had gotten him out of his chair and into his bedroom where they sat with him, my maternal grandpa stroking his hair and arm - even kissing him on the forehead a couple of times and telling him everything would be okay.

No one likes grief.  It's dreaded and feared.  It's hard work.  I would compare the death process to the labor process.  It's similar to the feeling of sitting with a woman during her labor.  There's some pain, a cycle of labored breathing and restlessness that ebbs and flows, getting more intense as it progresses.  It's difficult to watch as they are transitioning from life inside the world to life outside the world as we know it (life and all of the unknowns it contains).  Very much like how watching a laboring mother bring a baby out of the only world it's ever known up to that point (inside her body) to the unknowns of life outside of that world.

Like most parents, I want to protect my kids from things I think will hurt, scare, or worry them.  I try to prevent any of the discomforts known as "life".  I have been to dozens of funerals since I had my first baby, and almost every time I left my kids with someone else during most or all of the process of the funeral.  I even pulled away from them when grieving at home by doing it in the dark and quiet of my room at night. I did these things thinking that I was protecting them from the hurts of the reality of death.  This is probably the first time I really let my kids in to participate in grief with me.  The surprising thing is that they were the most amazing partners in grief.  They compassionately loved on the grandpa.  They respectfully and quietly observed and moved in to comfort others at the appropriate times, as were my sister's children.  While there was a children's playroom at the hospice home, they rarely even went into it - but to decompress a little bit before coming back to be a part of that process some more.

I stayed there and watched until he took his final breaths the following morning at 1:47am.  As I reflected on the day that had passed, I felt blessed to be a part of those moments of grieving with those who truly loved the same man I did and obviously still do.  When I woke up late the next morning at home, my oldest son had gone into town to buy me blueberry donuts - just enough for me - as a love gift.  The kids came up and snuggled in and asked how I was doing, and I did the same to them.

I got to wondering... "Why have I been working so hard to keep them shielded from this process?"  They had actually made the process so much easier for all present that day.  They had stepped up to the plate in some big ways and still are.  Tonight the oldest three stood stoutly in that receiving line with the rest of us for the better part of 3 hours - greeting and comforting those who were also missing our grandpa.  The other two children were in the line and in the room most of the time as well.  This experience has given my kids a gift and a lesson in character that would take me many years to instill had we not had the the hands-on experience/lesson of the past several days.  They learned that how to show vulnerability and that vulnerability doesn't equal weakness.  They learned how to consider how their actions would affect others for better or worse during emotionally unpredictable situations.  The maturity gap between parent and child closed in a little more.  They learned practical ways to help people who are hurting.  They learned that compassion is only achievable by forgetting and refusing to cater to self.  I wish I had taken them more often to visitations and funerals.  I wish I hadn't made excuses.  I wish I had seen how much of a blessing they could be and how deep their emotions run and how strong they can be for the benefit others.

There are a lot of reasons that people avoid bringing their children to things like funerals... not the least of which are things like 1) not wanting them to be disruptive, 2) fear that the child will do something embarrassing, and 3) fear that confronting a child with the reality of mortality in such a tangible way will be distressing to him or her.  I think there's a fourth reason too - we don't want to have to explain how and where and what happens after death, because we're not really all that sure ourselves.  We owe it to both ourselves and our children to have a clear understanding of how to answer those tough questions in a way that provides genuine HOPE.  If you don't know what you believe, it's time you did.  There will most likely be a time when your child faces the reality of death without you there to guide him or her.  In that moment, don't let the comfort of your words and the reason for the hope that you have of something better after this life be absent from their coping skills. 

It was okay for my children to be a little uncomfortable that day.  I could have brought them ipads and snacks from home to help them disengage from the difficult reality of that Saturday.  The idea did cross my mind, but I'm so glad that I didn't.  This world has become a very easy place to avoid grief.  In fact, more people than ever are choosing not to have a funeral for their loved ones.  Many just jot down a condolence on a website rather than attend services.  I'm as guilty or more than everyone else.  We want drive-thru, tv dinner, instant comfort easy kind of grief.  However, I am learning that grief, when done right and explored thoroughly, is one of the greatest gifts God gave us to draw us into deeper intimacy with Himself and with one another.  Don't miss the opportunity to connect with others this way.  Don't let your kids miss it either.  They have a capacity for compassion that most of us jaded adults don't even have and provide a levity and relief only possible from a childlike heart.

Picture of My Valentine's Day Gifts

    A year or two ago, I was going through some old photographs I found.  These particular photos were ones I had taken with a camera my parents got me circa 1985.  You know the type with no flash that you could drop a hundred different ways without breaking it.  It was a treasured possession, as was the film that I rarely received for it.  I treasured that camera even more, because I could use it to take photos of my other gifts, and that's what I did.  In the small stack of photos, several were dedicated to documenting the gifts I had gotten for various holidays.  On the back of each one was scrawled (in sloppy grade school script) the date the gifts were received, from whom, and what each thing was (including the names of any stuffed animals included in the photos).  Gifts have obviously been important to me from a very young age.

     Another married Valentine's Day came and went today.  Mark and I had agreed ahead of time that "for REAL this time" we weren't going to bother with gifts for Valentine's Day, our birthdays, our anniversary, Mother's Day or Father's Day.  We had done a similar thing about Christmas gifts, but we both ended up surprising one another with a cheap gift on the actual day.  So I wasn't sure how V-Day would go.  I was thinking tonight about how drastic the difference is between the woman I used to be with regard to gift-giving/receiving holidays and the woman I've become.  My expectations have changed drastically and not because I've given up or resigned myself to the idea that those days will usually end in disappointment on one or more levels.  Rather, I've been made able to choose to truly lay down my expectations about the day, and each experience betters me at that as I learn to root out those expectations that sometimes like to lurk quietly in my subconscious. 

     So, as I sat in my bed tonight more contentedly than I ever recall being after Valentine's Day, God brought to mind all the things that would've been on my "wish list" of possible romantic gifts in past years and the priceless gifts that have so easily done away with that list.  Here's the picture of my gifts this year.

• No perfume but the fragrance of his scent as he pulls me close.  
• No flowers but the beauty of the life-giving manner in which he treats me and our children.
• No jewelry but the adornment of wearing his name and the gift of his constant work at polishing the reputation that goes with that good name.
• No chocolates but the sweetness of his presence and the taste of his kisses.
• No massage gift certificates but the tenderness of his touch.
• No trips away but his heart close to home.
• No grand gestures but the steady dependability of his character.
• No money but the gift of his generosity towards all.
• No Valentine's Day card but genuine acts of everyday love that daily form the foundation of selflessness on which all true loving sentiment is built.

     Last night we watched a documentary called Honor Flight in which there was a segment about a WWII veteran talking about the impact of his love for his wife.  He was widowed when his wife of 53 years was affected by ALS... a wasting illness in which you lose all musculoskeletal control over a period of time.  His wife battled ALS for 7 years before she succumbed to its ravages shortly after their 60th anniversary.  He displayed a book of poetry and notes he had written for his wife throughout their marriage.  He said that he had never been good with words, but that when he thought of his wife and asked God, the words just came to his pen and he wrote them all down.  He said, "Throughout the course of her illness, I never asked God to spare her life. I only asked for my life to be spared long enough for me to take care of her throughout the duration of her terminal illness." He later said, "Close to the end of her life, a hospice nurse came to check her over, and she said to me, 'How long has she been bedridden with this illness?' And I replied, 'Seven years.'  That nurse couldn't believe it was true, because her skin was in such good condition - without bedsores or dryness."  And as his voice broke and tears welled up in his eyes he said, "I was pretty proud of that."  He saw his duty to care for his wife as the greatest privilege of his life, and he took great pride in how well he did it. He attributed his genuine love for his wife and his selfless acts of care toward her to His Lord who helped him love his wife the way God Himself would love and care for her.

     Maybe you wonder why God didn't just heal her for both man and wife' sakes.  Real life isn't about cultivating good circumstances.  It's about cultivating good character.  Our season on earth isn't spent to make us happier or wealthier or more popular human DOINGS. It's spent in making us BETTER human BEINGS.  It'd be great if we could become better by focusing more on self, accumulating more goods, consuming whatever tastes good, and doing whatever feels good.  However, the unwritten laws of philosophy on this planet prove out that true happiness and contentment AND the development of good character lie not in self-pleasure, self-actualization, and self-assurance but rather on this one thing:  denying self utterly.  Graciously giving and receiving is the key to accomplishing our greatest purpose.

Don't Just Show It; Give It

John 5:44 - "How can you believe, when you receive glory from one another and you do not seek the glory that is from the One and only God?"

"You do not seek the glory that is from the one and only God"? God glorifies me?  God glorifies me.  It feels wrong to ask God to glorify me.  After all, isn't it my job - not even that - my purpose on earth - to glorify Him?  Isn't that why I was made?  Then again, what glory do I even  have to give Him?  He has it all.  He doesn't need whatever paltry, terrestrial glory I can try to muster or conjure.  I had a 4.0 GPA in high school.  Does that work?  I even got to do the valedictory speech... so I've got that glory I can give Him.  Surely He needs that, right?  Um...is this thing on?  Digging deep - going way back to the back of my earthly glory room... maybe it's more of a glory closet...cabinet. Okay, you've got me.  It's a glory shoebox... that's mostly empty.  Yeah, I've got nothing.  I'm so glad He doesn't need the earthly glory I could give him.  

The fact is, He has all the glory - glory so intense and so beyond human scope and understanding that it would kill us to even look upon it.  (Exodus 33) He desires to bestow that glory on me?  That is also beyond my comprehension.  We (the church) are His "bride", after all.  That implies a consensually reciprocal type of relationship... not a symbiotic "he needs me and I need him" type of relationship but rather "He wants me, and I need Him."  Each having in mind the good reputation and character of the other, bride and groom seek to glorify one another.    Historically, in virtually ever culture known to man, that has been the position of the bride...one of helplessness - to protect herself, to provide for herself, to even survive.  Certainly that was the culture/era in which the Bible was written.  She had one thing to give her groom:  the treasure of herself... her being - heart, body, and soul - from whence come her beauty, her life-giving capacity, her personality, her skills, and her abilities. Likewise, we are helpless and have nothing but ourselves to give.  Also, historically/culturally  speaking, the groom comes into a marriage with the vast majority of the goods.  He comes with the desire and intent to bestow all his worldly goods and even his very life on his bride.  His glory will now belong to her.  He "glorifies" her by marrying her.  

Of course we should ask God to glorify us.  After all, who has all the glory to give?  I should deflect any worldly glory/accolades man might also give me to The One who has made me glorious by His sacrifice.  God does not lose any of His own glory by glorifying me any more than a groom loses his riches by bestowing them on his bride.  In fact, the groom's glory is made more obvious - enhanced - in its bestowal on his bride.  The adorning of her neck, her head, her hands and feet with precious metals and jewels and of her body with rich fabrics... all of these show those who gaze upon the bride to whom she belongs and that her groom is one of supremely noble character who is not only rich in property but also in generosity and lavish love for his bride.  By glorifying his beloved bride, he has glorified himself.  He has displayed a love for his bride that is so pure, immense, true, loyal, and steadfast that he entrusts his bride with all of his wealth and abundance.  He trusts her with abandon and holds back absolutely no good thing from her.  He entrusts her with his very name...having no fear that she would soil it.  This is the heartbeat of our God toward us - His very blessed chosen bride.  He holds back nothing from us.

He held back no part of Himself when He caused Mary to conceive Jesus.  He gave Jesus to us not to be half God and half man but rather fully both God and man.  He laid Himself bare, because He has nothing to lose.  He has never ceased to be vulnerable with mankind, and for that, we killed Him.  He chose to be glorified by a humble earthly parentage, a manger birth, a modest life, and a criminal's death.  His "glorious riches"  - the "jewels" with which He lavishes us - are His kindness, forbearance, and patience (Romans 2:4).  They are His matchless grace (Ephesians 1:7). These -- the very things mankind lacks most.  The riches that set Him apart from us and make Him so very attractive are the ones that change both giver and receiver.  

In Exodus 33, Moses tells God, "Show me your glory."  He was given the tiniest glimpse of that glory and came down off Mt. Sinai to a bunch of whining ingrates with his face positively aglow from the encounter of that glimpse.  I want to go a step further... I don't want to just see it.  I want to have it.  I've been freed up to recognize my ability to ask Him to give it to me.  The purpose of my desire being singularly this:  to radiantly display the glorious jewels of steadfastness, good character, loyalty, unfailing love, trustworthiness, kindness, patience, grace, and countless other things which have made Jesus, The Church's "groom", not only worthy of my love, respect, and worship but also trustworthy with my fragile and broken heart.

12 Things to Do When Faced with an Affair

“Ugh, this two door car!” I thought to myself as I moved the seat forward to get my 2 year old daughter and her 6 month old sister into the back of my husband’s work car.  Date night was worth it, of course.  We had just had a much-needed few hours out without children as new parents for the second time.  As I finished up with the car seat, something caught the corner of my eye - a small square of paper on the floor... a paper that would change all of our lives - forever.  Even as I type it, my heart pounds in my ears almost as loudly as it did that evening before what I remember as one of the longest nights in my life.  As I sat down in the front seat next to my husband who was backing our car down my parents’ driveway, I read this scrap of paper which happened to be a Hallmark receipt.  It had two Valentine’s Day cards listed on it... only one of which I had received.  It’s strange, now that I think about it.  The cards were listed on the receipt according to what they were.  I’ll never forget.  The itemized receipt read:  “For My Wife”, and the next line was the life-changing part... “For a New Love”.  My mind whirled, and I felt sick to my stomach.  That familiar feeling had become all-to-common a part of our relationship... I got it each time there was a new and “icky” surprise - something I had no idea about but found out by a little bit of investigation on my part or just plain carelessness on his part.

Sure, there was friction in our relationship.  I mean, a few months after the birth of our first child, my brother-in-law (who also happened to be my husband’s brother - you do the math), had found a love note with lipstick on the windshield of my husband’s car.  We were standing outside in our front yard when he spotted it and said, “Hey, Brett, there’s a note on your car.”  Brett looked panicked as he went to retrieve it and took it quickly into the house.  I stood there talking awkwardly with my brother-in-law about our landscaping with that same feeling...sick and nervous and deaf... and blind to anything but the path from my yard to the front door.  I wanted so badly to run in and tear that note out of his hands and have some more idea of why things had been so “off” between us for the past 6 months - for months during and after my pregnancy.  Turns out, his explanation of that note was that there was a creepy stalker-ish guy messing with him at work.  I was completely incredulous, and my experience has been that liars tell you just a grain of truth at a time.  They don’t want to spill it all at once.  So they spoon-feed it to you like they're nursing a sick relative.  They give you just enough truth to placate you for the time being until you finally find enough confidence to come out and say, “You’re lying.  I don’t believe you.  There’s more.  What is it?”  True to form, when I had asked to see the note he’d taken into the house, he refused to show it to me.  Then he claimed he’d thrown it away.  He let me go through trash cans until I couldn’t find it.  Then he finally admitted to having flushed it down our bathroom toilet.   So my response was,  “Um, right, and he’s so deranged that he went through the trouble of buying and applying lipstick to write you a psychotic letter with intent to ruin your marriage, and that you didn’t SEE it on the way home from work?”  That was the miracle, after all.  I had prayed for months for answers to our marital problems.  The fact he had been blind to that note on his car on his way home from work was the answer.  It was the beginning of an answer.  We stayed up virtually all night - me: trying to get to the bottom of WHO? WHAT? WHY? HOW MUCH? him: trying to convince me that I was crazy and in need of postpartum counseling for not believing him.  I was pushing him away by my suspicion and fear, after all.  What could he do but confide in someone who truly understood him?  What else could he do but lean on someone who would “really believe” him when he said he loved her?  “Do you love her??” I asked in agony.  “No...not really.”  “So I should believe you when you say you love me, like she does - even though you’re lying to her?”  Things get all twisted.  They get all messed up in the lines of communication when one or both of you are breaking your marriage vows, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg of the hideousness and humiliating ugliness that plagues the both of you.  Since that first affair, we had worked things out - kind of.  He had changed jobs to get away from his mistress...at my request.  We had gone to marriage counseling together.  The key things we hadn’t done:  forgiven one another for past hurts and worked to rebuild genuine trust.  That’s the stuff that comes later - if you commit to the hardest work you’ll ever do... rebuild a marriage that has broken down.

So - here we were... another child, 2 jobs, and a thousand more suspicions later... two people stuck in a car with our children in the back trying to talk calmly about that little square of paper.  Trying to tuck in little ones... Trying to act like a family while our family was falling apart... not even that... while we were finally realizing that the real work of marriage - the loving unconditionally, the forgiving, the resisting bitterness, the hundreds of daily things we should have done to live out the love we claimed to feel - was something we had not done.  The hundreds of daily things we should have guarded our marriage against... the lies, the temptations, the anger, the exchanging of “harmless” confidences with others, the busy-ness, the discontentment, the materialism... We just hadn’t. In reality, that scrap of paper was just the spark that lit the towering inferno of the fuel we had been building up in our marriage since it had started 7 years before.

For those of you who’ve experienced a marital affair on either end, I don’t have to explain how I felt that night.  For those who haven’t, I couldn’t explain it to you if I had the rest of my life to do it.  You know how people say your whole life passes in front of your eyes right before you die?  The same thing happens when your marriage starts to die.  You see it all... and then you see the future.  You see two kinds of futures.  Neither of them is one you would ever choose.  The first kind of future you see is one in which your joint belongings and the home you’ve loved and built together (our was literally a home we had designed and built together) become pawns in a half-and-half game played by lawyers and judges and an “ex” with a new, cute, younger wife.  Worse, your beloved children - the ones God created with a part of you and a part of your spouse but who are their own unique, special, and amazing human beings you’ve ever known - are taken from you for HALF of their lives... half of their holidays, half of their weekends, half of their vacations from school... all spent away with a new “pseudo family”.  You also picture yourself being replaced in the hearts and lives of your children as you sit at home alone eating whole meat-lovers, stuffed crust pizzas and half gallons of ice cream and not showering (not that I ever did that). :)  You imagine yourself struggling to make ends meet and trying to find a good enough job to send them to a good school, live in a decent neighborhood, and give them as much as their other parent does.  You picture trying to find quality time to console, instill your values into, and help repair your broken children.  Then there’s the other future you picture... and, if you can imagine, it’s even scarier than that first future.  It’s the one in which you choose reconciliation.  The one in which you dig DEEP, find some way to forgive and try to trust again... one in which you live in constant fear of the next breach of trust and wonder if that’ll be the one that breaks you in half or destroys your marriage or both.  I have lived through a type of both versions of these nightmarish futures.  Looking back, there are a few things I wish I could tell my then-self and my friends and family about how to deal with the immediate aftermath of the knowledge of an affair.

To back-then me:
1)  Don’t panic.  Going off the deep end emotionally will lead you to say and do rash things that will only add to the pain and problems and will most likely lead to choices and words you can’t take back but will wish you could.

2) Don’t borrow more trouble than you already have.  God will give you grace to get through each moment as you ask, but He won’t give you grace for something you may never have to face.  He doesn’t need to do that.  Don’t just take each day at a time.  Take each moment at a time.  Focus on the needs of that exact moment and nothing else.

3)  Don’t say the “D” word.  I know you want nothing more than to have a judge appear in your living room this very moment with divorce papers for you to sign - in theory, ending your pain immediately AND getting back at your spouse for being an awful human being.  Uttering the word “Divorce” opens a Pandora’s box of emotions and utterances you’ll wish you could take back at some point.  If you don’t say the word “divorce”, you can’t get one.  You don’t want one... not yet.  Wait until your emotions calm down so that you can rationally process and think through what a divorce will mean for you and your children and family relationships and even your friendships.  Everyone you know will be affected by your choices about your marriage.  This is a massive and momentous decision with repercussions that will last a lifetime and beyond.  It should not be undertaken lightly.

4)  Don’t go on the offensive.  You are hurting.  I get that.  Right now you’re thinking of a hundred types of revenge and how you could get away with pouring sugar in gas tanks, slashing tires, and/or spray painting slogans on the houses and cars of the involved parties.  You want to punch someone(s) in the face.  That’s what pillows and punching bags are for.  You want to scream at the top of your lungs. That’s what closets and secluded, heavily-wooded areas are for.  Avoid taking out your anger, hatred, and frustrations in ways that have the potential to make your life more difficult by adding fuel to an inferno.

5)  Journal.  This is a journey for you and your children.  Bad and difficult things are happening to you and them.  Those things will continue to happen.  Write it all down to keep good records, but choose to use those records only if absolutely necessary.

6)  Forgive...daily.  Keep forgiveness a priority for your sake and for the sakes of your children.  Every hurtful thing that happens to you carries a potential for you to become a bitter person.  These things are seeds that you can choose to plant and cause to grow into a root of bitterness or to give to God and let Him do with them what He will.  See Forgiveness blog linked HERE for more information on the hows and whys of forgiveness.  If you choose forgiveness, you will be able to keep your identity and emotions intact.  You will not become and ugly, twisted person bent on revenge.  You will not lose yourself in your circumstances. 

7)  Choose to love your children by loving their other parent.  Face it... your children are half of your estranged spouse.  When you run down or bad mouth your former spouse within earshot of your children, they take that very personally.  Even when you think they’re not listening, they ARE.  They are scared and will try to understand what is happening in their lives by gaging your moods and listening to your words.  Don’t let your emotions control you into saying things that will stick with your children and solidify in their minds forever the thing that they may fear the most:  that at least half of their being is evil, wrong, or bad.  I know that love is the LAST thing you feel or want to give your estrange spouse.  I’m not telling you to feel it.  I’m telling you to choose loving acts and words when you feel the opposite because a) you took your vows seriously regardless of whether or not your spouse did and b) you love your children more than yourself and the emotional volcano that wants to erupt inside of you, and c) you want good for yourself and your children and acting with integrity is the only way that you’ll bring those things about in your lives.

8)  Sleep on it.  When you get a chance, even if you have to drop off your children with a sitter or family member for a couple hours, sleep.  Rest every chance you can.  Snuggle with your child during nap time.  Catch a few winks in a church pew if you can or over lunch hour at work.  Your whole being is going through extreme trauma.  You feel it.  Don’t feel guilty about it.  

9)  Focus your limited time and resources on relationships that feed you, but do NOT get romantically involved with anyone.  You have limited time, energy, and resources - spiritually, emotionally, and physically.  Don’t invest those valuable resources in relationships that bleed you dry in any of those areas.  People will tell you they are on your side, and they may be.  Invest in relationships where that is proven out by actions on you and your children’s behalves.  Some people are just looking for more fodder for the rumor mill.  Others are takers who pounce on vulnerable people for their own purposes.  You’re going to need comfort now more than ever, and there will be no shortage of people and/or situations that promise to give it to you.  You need relationships with those who are supportive of your decisions going forward - come what may.  Draw close to people who have historically proven to have your best interest at heart.  Stand off from anyone else - especially those of the opposite sex.  You are in no position to start a new romantic relationship, and anyone who would try to coax you into doing so is selfish and certainly does not have your best interest in mind. 

10)  Get/stay involved in a local church community.  God is the only rock who was always there for me during the process of my divorce.  He was there with me when I cried myself to sleep night after night.  He provided for me in every possible way.  He was all I had much of the time.  I don't know how I would've survived this process without being able to focus my energy and prayers and hope on God.   His people, my church family, gathered around me and provided child care, auto maintenance, lawn mowing, companionship, financial and prayer support and encouragement, and a place of belonging. They loved me and my children unconditionally and were nothing but a positive asset in our brokenness.

11)  Don’t give up hope.  You have every reason to feel helpless and hopeless about what’s happening to you.  Don’t let that feeling rule you.  Don’t entertain it longer than it takes to dismiss it outright.  Unless you are in a relationship that puts you and/or your children in imminent danger, you need to give yourself the right to consider reconciliation, because even though that’s the last thing you want right now, you don’t want to be sitting on your front porch 30 years from now wondering, “If I had reconciled with my spouse, we could be sitting here together surrounded by children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.”  Wait for things to calm down before you make any rash decisions seeking that “d” word I mentioned earlier.  Divorce doesn’t provide more options or freedom, NOR will it give you the control of your situation that you so desperately crave right now.  It does the opposite.  It gives RULES to your relationships with your children and former spouse.  It gives control of your actions, visitation with your children, choices about their schooling and healthcare, and a thousand other things - petty and monumental - to a piece of paper enforced by your former spouse and the court system.  You will never be more helpless or out of control than when you are divorcing/divorced.  That is why you see people using their children as leverage and pawns against one another.  That’s all they have left, and it’s devastating to all involved.  Don’t go there.  There is no timeline in which this relationship has to be fixed.  You have all the time in the world to work at it and get it right.  New relationships are just as much work and even harder when exes and step and half children are involved.  Hope for something better.  Pray that God will bring it to pass.  

12)  Don’t harden your heart.  Whatever happens next, your heart MUST be soft in order for you to be open to the possibility of reconciliation until that possibility has passed.  Guard your heart as it is under extreme duress, and pray for a soft heart in your estranged spouse.

These are the things I wish I could go back and tell the me that was trembling while I held that little square of paper.  They wouldn’t have fixed my situation, but they would have made things a whole lot easier.  I would like to add that, at the time of my divorce process is 2004, Facebook was in its infancy, and social networking was hardly even a “thing”.  If I’d had access to it at the time, it wouldn’t have been a good thing.  So I’d like to add that, if possible, you should seriously consider deactivating (temporarily) or severely curtailing your social networking during separation or estrangement from a spouse.  It can easily become a source of discontentment, venting angry words, becoming gossip fodder, and finding out information you’re best not knowing.  It cannot help your relationship and it could do the opposite and, at very least, is an unproductive waste of your time, emotions, and resources.  If it’s not possible to deactivate, hide your posts from people who might use them to spy on your social activities to use them against you in any way, and hide posts from negative people or people who are openly supportive your estranged spouse’s behavior.

If you are able, try to remember that Jesus Himself was no stranger to the feelings of hurt and rejection and outright abuse that was heaped upon Him, but the Bible tells me in 1 Peter 2:23 that, "He (Jesus) did not retaliate when he was insulted, nor threaten revenge when He suffered.  He left his case in the hands of God, Who always judges fairly."  That became a daily - even moment-by-moment reminder for me.  If Jesus could wait upon God's hand of judgment, so can I.  If He could forgive and put away my great many sins, I can certainly forgive another person's.  

When He Didn't Call

I cried today - the happiest tears I have cried in a long time.  I’m not much for crying anyway, but I cried them because my son - whose voice I haven’t heard since July 23 - didn’t call me to arrange his final travel plans.  He told me he would.  He didn’t.  The letter I got from him Monday said that he was told they would receive six minute calls home on Tuesday.  I was primed.  My phone (which I leave pretty much everywhere but ON MY PERSON) was glued to my hip.  My ringer (which is almost always off) was turned all the way up - even at places I would normally be embarrassed to have it go off.  No call.  Wednesday, other parents were receiving their calls still and said to keep the phone on and by me... which I did.  Nothing.  Thursday, again... nothing.  Each day I felt more like I was dying on the inside.  His absence has hit me hard.  I have written a handwritten letter every day - sometimes 10+ pages worth of letter.  I mail them every couple of days.  I stay up hours at night - like I did when I used to wait up for him to get home from work or friends’ houses - listening to the deafening silence that had once been filled with conversation and laughter with my oldest child.  My heart has been squeezed.  That’s the only way I can describe it.   It physically feels like it’s being wrung out of all that is in it.  

With his siblings the day he left for MEPS.

The day we dropped him off to go to MEPS, was a strange one for me.  He was visibly nervous (which I rarely ever see in him).  He was in a different world.  We had driven through the night the 16 hours or so from Dallas to our home in order to get home in time to take him.  The distance we all felt and hated was palpable, but we muscled through it.  We decided to stop and have breakfast at a local family restaurant we had yet to try.  The only place in the whole restaurant that would fit our family of 7 was a booth and table/chairs set in the back corner of the room.  We squeezed 7 into a six person area and got cozy.  It was a great breakfast - despite a bit of a somber mood.

I did well for awhile...after we had breakfast and got back in the car.  We did something bizarre and funny - Mark and I had found some old time gum cigarettes at a vintage candy store we stopped at for funzies on the way home from Dallas.  You know the kind that have a little puff of powdered sugar that rises from the end of the “cigarette” when you blow on it.  I remember being banned from having these as children.  So it was a novelty for me... one that kept us both awake and laughing on the way home from Dallas and on that the kids enjoyed watching each other try on the way to Rockford.  It really broke up the mood.  It’s funny to say that something so ridiculous actually was needful for us right then.  We needed some levity.  The truth of his choice to serve the USA - to be owned by them - in this time of instability, of disrespect for our military, of shootings at military bases and recruiter’s offices, of accidents on Marines bases, etc. was hitting all of us differently and the same.  The siblings were realizing how much he would miss and what would change while he was gone.  We parents were thinking similar thoughts but they were all jumbled up with memories of pond fishing, family dinners and swims, bedtime prayers, helping with homework, birthday parties, and filling up a church pew on Sundays.  I asked the kids and Mark if we could all just pray aloud for him on the way there.  We all took turns, and it was the most blessed time I can recall us having as a family in many years.  The neatest part was that each of the kids prayed for Austin from their own hearts and through the filter of their own experiences.  Sadie (who is our worrier) prayed that he wouldn’t be fearful.  Levi (who is our emotional out-burst/rage monster) prayed that he would have self-control and calmness.  And so it went...  

I didn’t cry at drop-off.  I held it together.  I cried as we drove away.  Then I stopped.  Then, we stopped at a small grocery store on the way home, and I stood in the meat department looking at quantities of meat.  I stacked about 8 one pound packages of ground beef into my cart, and I stared at them.  I cried... in the meat department...about meat.  I cried, because I didn’t need that much meat anymore.   My biggest consumer of red meat isn’t at home anymore.  The butcher who came out to stock meat put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Um, excuse me... I think maybe it’s a better deal for you to get this.”  He handed me a giant bag o’ beef.  “We sell it in these bigger quantities for people like you.”  I put back my individual packages and took what he had given me home.  I’m pretty sure he thought I was completely insane.  :)  

Background:  When I began to parent Austin when he was 9 years old, he had been the “only child” of my husband and was being raised primarily by him and his parents.  He was as sweet a child as I could imagine.  He was pretty much always in a good mood - a “bright sider” I would call him.  He could turn any bad news into good, and I loved it.  He was so much like me sometimes it was scary.  We could talk for hours without taking a breath.  I once had the thought, “I’ve always wondered why I AM the way I AM” - personality, quirks, and all, and when I met and parented Austin - I felt like I finally knew so much of the why.  Only later did I realize how difficult it would make him to discipline.  Every discipline we tried to impose was met with a good attitude and a bright side disposition.  (“No electronics for two weeks?  That’s probably a good thing, because I DO have a book report due, and I should really be reading.”  “Stay in my room until tomorrow morning?  I had a couple of lego sets left from my birthday that need assembled anyway, I guess.”)  I always joked that if I put him in the cellar he’d make friends with the rats.   Of course, he could never stay mad, and he’s usually aimed to please.  

toddler Austin and his pup at the farm

eating corn with daddy

I wasn't allowed to kiss him until after the wedding.  :)

Austin with his best friend and two "new" (at the time) sisters

The last few years have been tough ones as he has dealt with becoming an adult.  He has been trying to deal with hurts of his past, fair-weather friends, disappointment in role models, etc.  He also has been trying to decide whether or not he wanted me to adopt him.  I have always been ready and waiting without pressuring, but I always knew I wanted one thing:  for it to be his choice after he was an adult who was dealing with the adults in his life as an adult himself.  It took him about a year and a half to decide that he wanted to petition the court with me for his adoption.  I was happy, but then I waited for the other foot to drop, and it did.  So many adoptive parents I know talk about how the child(ren) they sought to adopt often turned on them - like a completely different person - when the court date came near.  My experience was much the same.  Austin had hardly EVER argued with me.  He never could stay mad at me more than a few minutes (and vice versa).  He was (and is) literally my shadow.  He is on my heels from the moment he comes through the front door until one of us leaves the other at their bedroom door at night.  To say we had become close was an understatement.  The day I met Austin, I asked God to give me the love of a mother for Austin, and that if it was not His will to do so, he take me out of his and his dad’s life forever.   I have no doubt that He did give me that love... over time, as I asked, He gave me just that.  

Like all of us, Austin has patterns of sin - wrong things that he does on a regular basis.  His particular patterns have been lying (every day, for pretty much any reason), never admitting he was wrong - no matter how painfully obvious it sometimes was, and trying to get away with things he knows are wrong.  Basically... he’s a human... like the rest of us.

Anyway, today’s letter...

“Hey!  I have a lot to write and not much time or space, but I will try to comment on your last two letters.  I hope your letter from 9/29-30 is not your last.  We get mail until and through Marine week.  The last one should be sent no later than like the 15-16th.  I don’t remember all I said in my last letter.  So I may repeat some things.

“Did good on CFT (Combat Fitness Test), not sure of the score, but I did 30-35 seconds better on the hard part of it.  We had our second uniform fitting and bought stuff for The Crucible/Graduation.  Went on a hike around base (like 5-7 miles we think).  Monday we had final drill in the rain.  We did good, and Senior (Senior Drill Instructor) was really happy.  We got third place with 66 points.  1025 got second place with 67, and 1027 got first place with 68 points.  We lost a point because a kid left chapstick in his pocket and another was moving too much when we were supposed to be standing still.  One of the reasons I joined The Corps was discipline... I know maturity comes with time.  Bearing and self-control are parts of discipline, and I have gotten better, but I want it and embrace it.  I change and have changed, and that’s what matters.  

“Yesterday we had our knowledge test and application.  I very much doubt I failed, but I can retry if I did.  There were four fails but I think I know who they are.  We are being treated way better and almost regular by our DIs (and other ones).  They are nicer, answer questions, joke some (we have to keep most of our bearing though), and get plenty of time to eat.  It is nice.  We even learned our first Graduation drill movement!  We started working on our uniforms for our inspection Friday.  PFCs haven’t because our stuff is still at the cleaner’s. 

“My right shin started hurting again, but I had faith that God would heal it.  So I commanded it to be healed in the name of Jesus, and I knew He COULD fix it, but I had faith that he WOULD heal it right then, and He did!  I put my hand on it, had faith He would heal it at that moment and I started praying in the Spirit (words came to my lips and I prayed them out loud) and it was healed.  It has been a long time since I have prayed in the Spirit, and it was good.  I give credit to the Psalms 91 book (he bought at PX), boot camp, and ultimately God for calling me back.

“Today we have the museum visit and listen to older veterans talk about their service time.  Will be a fun day.  Got final PFT (Physical Fitness Test) tomorrow.  Last night we got Cliff Bars and protein bars.  Only at boot camp can you eat 2 protein bars, 2 1/2 Cliff bars, and a handful of Twizzlers and still be hungry - LOL!  Can’t ‘see’ my abs yet, but they are there and I can do 16 pull-ups (twice what I used to).  Still weigh 180 +or- a few, but I will always have a gut.  It runs in the family.  I feel bigger (good), I think because we PT waaaay less and our bodies are finally able to grow back and recover. 

“I loved your last letter.  That part at the end of the middle where you said who I am, that was epic.  A really good calling me out as to what kind of man I am and will be by God’s grace.  I am so excited to be home and start life.  We got our orders yesterday, and apparently I have 7 days of recruiter’s assistance (RA).  So I don’t leave for SOI (School of Infantry) until the 10th of November.  Yes, I will be working some of those days, but at least I will be home.  All infantry got it.  (Nov. 10 is also the USMC birthday.)  Good way to start my real training.  I think SOI is 2 1/2 months but it may be longer.  IDK but they said we could have our phones on certain days when we are there so that will be nice.  Now to comment on your letter:  

“It is nice to hear fall is coming.  We feel it here too.  I feel when you all pray for me.  Like I literally feel it by the day and sometimes half of days.  Please pray for protection (physical and spiritual) everyday.  Thank you for adding me to the church prayer list.  Love it that you got your shirts and it is awesome you guys are wearing them (especially dad for work).  Gives me some pride.  :)  He gave me one just like it before I left.  I remember the day I left too.  I have grown up a lot since then.  The sermon notes and in your letter are really good.  I have some to share when I got home. 

(My favorite part)

“I could have had that short call home, but when Senior (SDI) asked who ‘needed’ to because they honestly didn’t know (their travel plans).  I decided to have that integrity thing and not take it.  (Then I got skipped on fire watch, thank you Lord!)  There is always a reward for doing right (even if we don’t get it until Heaven).  

“So glad you have travel and condo plans down.  So exciting!!  I would suggest to go to the family meet and greet with other platoon parents.  You can meet my DIs on family and graduation day. 

“Well, I need to get back in bed.  Love you and am so excited to see you soon.

“Lots of Love, 

Austin”

I had been reading the letter out loud to Austin’s youngest sister, Violet.  I started not being able to talk when he started talking about his shin healing (which he’s had such bad problems with since first phase).  My favorite part by far though, was the part in which he said he didn’t call me, because he didn’t want to lie and say that he didn’t know his travel plans yet, because he did know them (thanks to me not realizing that sending them would maybe mean he couldn’t call home).  The days I spent weepy and mournful because he wasn’t calling were the same days he was wrestling with conscience about honesty and integrity, coming out clean, and not calling his mom while he heard so many of the other guys talking about how their calls went.  If you had any idea the number of hours of long conversations, disciplinary decisions and enforcing, prayer, and more long conversations, have gone into his issues with honesty and integrity, you would know why tears streamed down my face this morning.  I remember a conversation I had with him back in March when he had been caught in another series of lies.  He had said to me, “What’s the point of telling the truth and doing the right thing??  There’s no reward.  Why should I bother with that when nothing good comes to me from it!?”)  At the time, I wanted to scream, “It’s all about you, isn’t it?  Nothing good comes to YOU from it, but what about the others in your life??  Don’t they matter?”  I just looked at him and said, “You’re not entitled to rewards for every good thing you do.  You do it anyway.  The fact that you think you deserve rewards for doing such a simple thing as respecting another person by telling them the truth really makes me mad.  You may not see rewards here OR in the next life, but that’s not why we tell the truth.  We do it because it honors God and those He made, AND it makes like a whole heck of a lot easier when we don’t have to try to keep our lies straight.  Do it right, and you might just get the respect of those you love.  That’s good enough in this life.” 

I have never been so happy nor felt more blessed to NOT get a phone call from my dear son at boot camp.  He was honest.  He had a victory in an area that is so difficult for him.  I know he will fail.  I know he won’t always act with integrity, but as I have been praying for him and for the other men he will graduate with in these next weeks, I pray they will hear that still, small voice and that they will have integrity and strength to do what’s right, and that I will be understanding and supportive even when I am sad about not getting those calls or knowing those plans.  

It is by great wisdom and for great reasons that the USMC has the rules it does about having no kind of contact with your recruit than that of paper letters.  It has been for the best for us in every conceivable way.  I can't tell you how many times I would have rescued him out of boot camp if I could have.  I struggle between being hover-mom and uninvolved-mom.  There comes a time (or perhaps many times) for many of us when we have to make a decision about the kind of mom we want to be.  One of the most defining moments of my life as a mom came when my first husband told me he was having an affair and would be taking our child with him.  I was hover mom.  Later on, after we had reconciled and had another daughter, he left us without knowledge of where he had gone and if/when he would return.  Again, hover mom.  When he later started having visitation with the girls, taking them one night a week and every other weekend, I had a choice to make.  I could be miserable and eat whole pizzas in one sitting while watching Lifetime movie marathons waiting for them to return. OR I could make some new friends, go on hikes and canoe trips, and be revitalized for when they did come back.  Some things have happened in our lives - a miscarriage, an accident, a friend's child with cancer, our own abuse at the hands of a man we trusted... that have made us the moms of sons that we are today.  Some of us pull our sons in so tight they can hardly breathe and put the hammer down when we see them acting out of line.  Others of us pull away from (or even abandon) our sons physically and/or emotionally for fear of the pain they could cause us.  Others of us baby our boys and come to their rescue - coddling them long into adulthood.  I have been all of these moms - done all of these things.  There was only ever one motive for all of those behaviors: selfishness and control.  By being over-protective I'm protecting myself from the pain of bad things happening to them.  By being uninvolved or emotionally disengaged I'm protecting myself from the pain of a) being hurt by their actions or b) being devastated losing that which we love so much.  By being too authoritative, I am trying to control the way he runs his life.  We aren't happy with any of these choices, because they're not what we were meant to be.  We were meant to give life, to think of our children first, and to protect them by knowing when to draw them close and when to let them go... when to give them a boost and when to give them a kick in the shorts.  

In trying to explain how I feel about this thing known as USMC boot camp, I can only say this:  I've been mourning the loss of our family the way it used to be and fearful about how it will change into the future. I have recently come to the realization that this is the first time in our family's life that a decision that one of our children has made is impacting the whole family so intensely. We were all plunged into these unwanted emotions...grief and fear and loneliness while at the same time experiencing such pride and love for our son/brother that simple paper and pen can't come close to expressing it. On the other hand, these precious written letters describe it so much better than any other form of communication could, aside from many tearful embraces. Most of us didn't choose this Marine family life, but it will define us in a whole new way - for better and worse but mostly for better. Our sons aren't the only ones who are being changed during these 12 weeks. We are becoming something new too...through tears, sleepless nights, and days when we can't eat. We are becoming Marine moms/family. There is no way to do it perfectly, because there is no need for warriors in a perfect world. So we will do the best we can in this broken, imperfect place to be this thing our sons and our fallen world combined to make us...Marine moms. Give yourself allowance to be human. We will fail. We will get down. We will come near to breaking points, but we will keep getting back up, dusting ourselves off, and giving our all for our children, because that's what we moms do. I need God every day to do it.  I don't know how I could do it any other way.