Midlife Crisis

Something is wrong with me and I don't know what it is.  Maybe it's depression.  Maybe it's a midlife crisis.  I'm not sure.  There is some kind of turmoil rolling around in my heart.  I love my husband and my children.  They are the joy of my life.  I don't long for a new life, or a new man, or a sports car, or any of those normal midlife crisis themes.  I long for a new me.

I'm so tired of fighting the same battles of insecurity, insignificance, and loneliness, not to mention my weight and disease.  I want to be different!  I long to matter.  I long to make a difference.  I want this world and the people around me to be different because I exist, because they know me.  Not because I'm me, but because of Jesus in me and how he shines through me.  I just long for so much more meaning in my life.  I look around and think, "Is this really all there is?"

Today, you know what I did?  I went back to bed after the kids left for school and stayed there until after 1:00 pm.  Then I took a bath and ate two rice krispy treats.  That's it, that's all I did.  I'm not even supposed to eat rice krispy treats since the sugar increases inflammation and that makes me tired and triggers my chronic pain.  But, I did it anyway.  After a recent knockout, I've taken off my boxing gloves and gotten out of the ring.  You might as well picture me covered in fluffy blankets, sitting in a recliner, eating rice krispy treats, because that's pretty much what I've been doing...literally and figuratively.  I really like rice krispy treats.

It's okay to take a break once in a while.  It's okay to rest and regroup.  But, I think my break has drifted into self indulgence and self pity.  I've shut down.  This is not good.

I feel like a failure.  I really do.  For some reason, I have this crushing feeling that by 43, I should have accomplished so much more.  What?  I don't know.  Just something!  The only thing I ever really dreamed of was being a wife and a mom and I've done that, I'm doing that.  I'm not sure where this new pressure is coming from.  And I don't like the way that sounds, because it's sounds like I think raising a family is no big deal, and I know it's an important job!  I love being with my kids and caring for them.  But they're at school 8 hours a day now, and I'm just here doing crap I don't like to do.  Except for eating rice krispy treats, I like doing that.  Did I mention that I really enjoy rice krispy treats?

I'm really close to just shutting down the blog, and giving up on writing for good.  I feel like I suck at it.  I am plagued with self doubt.  PLAGUED.  Living in my head is like riding a roller-coaster, one minute I'm like, "Look at me, I'm rocking this life!"  Two minutes later, "I'm such a failure, nobody likes me and I can't do anything right!"  It's exhausting!

I've had more victory in my thought life in the past.  And, I'm realizing as I'm writing all of this that I've been listening to the enemy's lies.  Not just listening, but believing them.  It's time to take back some ground.  I think this time, I didn't even fight for the ground I lost; I just handed it over.

First of all, I am not a failure because things don't work out exactly like I want them to.  God is up to something bigger that I cannot see.  It is okay that I struggle.  I am free to struggle.  I don't have to have my life figured out at 43.  Frankly, I don't think I have to have my life figured out at 83.  God has my life figured out with a plan and a purpose.  I have no idea what that is, but I'm going to have to be okay with that because He's God and I'm not.

The other night, I couldn't sleep.  All of this turmoil in my heart was troubling me.  I asked God to please give me a verse for direction.  At the time, I didn't think it was all that relevant, which makes me laugh now.

Psalm 32:7-11, "For you are my hiding place; you protect me from trouble.  You surround me with songs of victory.  The Lord says, 'I will guide you along the best pathway for your life.  I will advise you and watch over you.  Do not be like a senseless horse or mule that needs a bit and bridle to keep it under control.'  Many sorrows come to the wicked, but unfailing love surrounds those who trust the Lord.  So rejoice in the Lord and be glad, all you who obey him!  Shout for joy, all you whose hearts are pure!"

In my study bible it says, "God describes some people as being like horses or mules that have to be controlled by bits and bridles.  Rather than letting God guide them step by step, they stubbornly leave God only one option.  If God wants to keep them useful for him, he must use discipline and punishment.  God longs to guide us with love and wisdom rather than punishment.  He offers to teach us the best way to go.  Accept the advice written in God's Word and don't let your stubbornness keep you from obeying."

It's like God knows me or something!  Sigh...  Yes, I can be stubborn.  Yes, sometimes I'm a mule. Sometimes, God has to put a bit between my gritted teeth and pull me back to Him.  But, here I am again, realizing it's okay to need help.  I'm opening my hands, unclenching my teeth.  Remembering that it's good to rely on God and follow him step by step.  I don't know what I'm supposed to do with my life in this season of transition, but I know that I can trust God to guide me step by step.  

A Thousand Sorrows

I keep trying to convince myself that I'm fine.  I'm not tired, or weary, or lonely, or bored, or anything...  I'm fine.  But, deep down inside, I know.  There's a grief in my heart that I cannot let go of.  

I had dreams about this year.  Things were going to be different.  God had recently stirred some dormant longings.  He led me down a new path.  I took a new risk, something I would never have thought of doing on my own.  It was clear to me that to be obedient to God, I had to take this risk.  But, if I had known ahead of time what that risk was going to cost me, I would never have taken it.  The result of that risk felt like rejection, betrayal, humiliation, and heartbreak.  

I just couldn't understand why God would lead me down a path to break my heart.  I still don't understand it. Instead of living a new dream, I'm doing the same old things.  Spending every day alone, taking care of a sick dog, trying to get the stains from her sickness up out of my carpet, and more laundry than I ever dreamed possible.  I might just pass out from all the excitement!  I long for more.  I'm bored out of my ever loving mind.  I adore my kids and my husband, I am beyond grateful for my life.  But, it felt like God had dangled a carrot in front of me, just to snatch it away.  

Why would he do that?  I don't know.  I still don't have the answers, and probably never will.  But there are a few things I know for certain.  Lamentations 3:33, "He takes no pleasure in making life hard, in throwing roadblocks in the way."  He didn't do it deliberately to hurt me, and he will at one time or another bring something good out of all of it.  Romans 8:28b. "...every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good."  So here I sit in the middle of the disappointment trying to muddle my way through.  

In our small group leadership class we teach that the definition of a disciple is, "One who after facing their own brokenness, finds God faithful, and turns in gratitude to give."  When we first wrote that definition, I was thinking of a disciple as a destination, a place you reach. " I now pronounce you a disciple."  But, the thing I am realizing is, I am still in the disciple process.  Every day, I have to face my brokenness, every day I have to fight to find God faithful, and then, I turn in gratitude to give.  There is still so much brokenness in me.  I want my way, my will, my desires.  I think that I am the one who's faithful to God and he owes me.  Such backward thinking.  He is the one who's faithful to me, even when I turn my back on him.  I owe him my entire existence!  He's given me so much and I'm like a toddler who begs for a cracker and then you hand him the cracker and he throws it on the ground and begs for something else.  That toddler is me.

The other day, I heard John Piper say these words, "A thousand sorrows teaches a man to preach."  I watched a video where three godly pastors discussed that phrase, and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind.  I keep thinking of it in other contexts.  A thousand sorrows teaches a woman to mother.  A thousand sorrows teaches a man to father.  A thousand sorrows teaches a woman to teach.  A thousand sorrows teaches a friend to love.  It is in the sorrows of life that our hearts are tenderized towards others.  We learn compassion. We learn how to love.  We see our brokenness.  We taste of grace.  We experience God's comfort.  The scriptures come alive.  Psalm 119:71, "My troubles turned out all for the best—they forced me to learn from your textbook."

This new sorrow is just one of the many thousand I will face over a lifetime.  If it happened for no other reason than to provide me with a more tender heart, than I believe that was reason enough.  Jesus, help us to see our own brokenness, to find you faithful in the brokenness of life, and to turn in gratitude to give.  You are so worthy of our hearts.  

Diamonds

I just don't know.

Life is hard.

I'm just tired.

My heart is so tired.

I'll admit it, sometimes I really do get weary in doing good, in being good, in thinking good.  It's hard work.  My Facebook status on Saturday was, "Life is a series of crushed hopes and dreams."  People love it when I'm upbeat like that!  You know, I'm just trying to make the world a brighter place.  In all seriousness though, it's how I feel.  Crushed.

I've learned some new things about myself in recent days, and it's made my world a little topsy-turvy.  And although, I know ultimately it will be part of my healing story, right now it feels like a wounding.

I walked into church Sunday morning feeling broken and angry.  I didn't want to be there.  And within five minutes of the worship time, I was in the middle of a smack down.  God was in my face reminding me of his faithfulness, and my supposed surrender.  Sometimes I wonder how many people singing those worship songs actually realize what they're singing.  "Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord to thee...Here I am, all of me, take my life, it's all for thee."  Really?  Do any of us truly mean it?  It is a lot easier to sing those words than it is to actually live them.

And then of course, the message was about suffering, because God never let's me get away with anything.  I say those words to make you smile a bit, but they're very true.  And although, I know that his strict discipline with me is evidence of his love for me, sometimes I really just want to get away with some stuff.  I am human, and sinful, and I want my own way.  The message was so on target that afterward I said to Matt, "God was a little harsh with me this morning, don't you think?"  And he answered, "Uh, yeah!"

And again, here I am, just proving that all my righteousness is as filthy rags.  No matter how much growing and changing I do, I am only seconds away from turning on God.  "Prone to wander, Lord I feel it.  Prone to leave the God I love."  That's me.  Prone to sin, prone to wander.  I don't have anything of value to offer to God.  Just my empty, brokenhearted nothingness.  The amazing thing is, that's all he wants.  Just a willing, empty, broken heart.

We are all just these fragile human bodies made mostly of carbon and water.  Think about it!  We're just these little lumps of carbon nothingness, with so little to offer, except hearts that are prone to wander, and God still wants us.  He wants our broken lives, and our broken hearts, and our broken bodies, and our broken dreams.  This life we live is full of fire, and pressure and crushings.  None of us get to escape the crushing.  You may think you have bypassed it, but if you haven't experienced it yet, it's coming.  I'm sorry to tell you that, but it's the truth.

If you've been following the blog for a while, you know I really love sparkly things.  Especially diamonds. But, did you know that scientists have discovered how to grow diamonds in a lab?  Real diamonds, but flawless.  They have machines, about the same size as a washing machine, and they take a piece of graphite, which is made almost entirely of carbon atoms, and heat it and place about 7,000 metric tons of pressure on it, and in about 3 days, it will be a diamond.  They're commonly known as HTHP diamonds.  It stands for high temperature high pressure diamonds.

I'm sure you can already see the correlation I am making, can't you?  Black graphite, high heat, tons of pressure...diamond.  Yes, God is taking our carbon bodies of nothingness and making clear, shiny, light reflective diamonds.  What feels like crushing, what feels like is absolutely going to kill us, is making us beautiful.  In my human limitations, I would still rather be given diamonds, than to be turned into one.  But God doesn't ask anything of us, that he hasn't already endured himself.

Isaiah 53: 5-6  But he was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins.  He was beaten so we could be whole.  He was whipped so we could be healed.  All of us, like sheep, have strayed away.  We have left God’s paths to follow our own.  Yet the Lord laid on him the sins of us all.

The Liquid Stage

Sensitive.  That's the way I came into the world.  And then I was tossed into the middle of a dysfunctional family.  I'm not throwing my family under the bus to admit that we're dysfunctional.  All families are dysfunctional.  If you can't admit it, you may be more dysfunctional than the rest of us.  It wasn't easy to be me.  Just like it probably wasn't easy to be you.  I was just this little bundle of feelings.  I had a lot of feelings of my own and then I picked up other people's feelings and wore them around like a backpack.  I felt responsible for the whole world.  I just wanted to make everybody happy and wanted them to feel loved.  It felt like it was my role to play.  As a result, this planet has been a difficult place for me to live.  Somewhere along the line, I decided that these feelings were just too much for me.  I lost myself.  I stopped being me.  I stopped feeling.  I became absorbed by everyone around me.  Kathryn disappeared and she became a daughter, a sister and a friend, but no longer Kathryn.

In order to stay this person who didn't feel, I started numbing.  I did it in a hundred different ways.  Starving myself, eating too much, eating junk, going blank, hating myself, destructive self talk, perfectionism, obsessing over my appearance, to name a few.  I got so good at the numbing that I didn't even know I was doing it.  I bought into my own game.  I believed my own lies.

When my first child was born, the exterior started to chip and crack and the real Kathryn started to seep out.  She was ugly.  Nobody liked her.  She yelled a lot and was mostly made up of rage from being in the dark for so long.

Since then, my life has been about letting that sensitive, feeling girl out of her cage.  It has been a blossoming of authentic Kathryn.  It has sometimes been slow with trepid steps, and other times gushing like water.  It goes something like this.

"What is this thing in my chest, in my heart?"  And God speaks quietly to my heart and says, "It's a feeling."  And I say, "Oh yeah right, feelings!  What feeling is this?"  And he says, "It's hurt'', or fear, or some other feeling.  And I say, "Okay, why am I feeling this?"  That one takes a lot more time, but I'm getting better at it.  And God reveals it in time and I deal with the fact that I have feelings, and the feelings are not bad.  And then I usually express my feelings to my husband and my friends, and sometimes on Facebook, and on this blog.  And God helps me to come to forgiveness, or resolution, or whatever the feeling requires.  And what has happened in the process is I have found Kathryn, and for the most part, I've started to like her again.  She's not so mean after you let her out of the dark.

But here's another thing that I've discovered in the process, I am not the only one uncomfortable with feelings.  Very few people like them.  And when you express them publicly, some people applaud you, but a lot of people scold you.  They don't like it.  I guess they think that you are saying that God is not good, or something like that.  I don't know, but they try to tell you what to do to get rid of your feelings and what to feel instead.  It's weird.  I don't get it.  I feel like proclaiming to the world, I'm in process, people.  I'm not planning on staying here!

On Sunday in church, I was reminded by our pastor about the metamorphosis of a caterpillar into a butterfly.  When a caterpillar is in his cocoon, he completely dissolves into liquid before becoming a butterfly.  It was like God tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "Maybe you're in the liquid stage."

I don't think feelings are something to fear, they're just another step in the process of healing.  You and me, the ones who can't seem to pull it together, maybe we're liquid.  Maybe our tears and feelings are evidence of transformation.  Is that why I'm often a puddle of tears?  It's just my liquid emotions seeping out of the cracks.  Liquid can't hold itself together, it needs a container.

I read a couple of weeks ago in the book, "Why Give." by John Devries, "God is not hindered by our weakness but rather he uses our weaknesses as the 'holes' through which his streams of eternal life flow.  Every human weakness is a new opportunity for the Spirit to pour out more of his goodness, because we, in our weakness, must rely on him; and it is our reliance on him that opens the door to let the Spirit flow through us.  The more independent we are and the more we rely on our own strength, the more we shut the door to the streams of eternal life flowing through us.  When Jesus said that in order to get into the kingdom of God we had to become as little children he was teaching that being saved comes only to those who have a childlike dependency on the Father.  It is this dependency that opens the continuously increasing flow."

So, if you're like me, a weepy one, or an angry one, or a hurt one, or a scared one who can't seem to hold it all together, maybe we're just a bunch of melted caterpillars about to be butterflies.

February

A sense of dread fills my heart as February is only days away.  February has always been a difficult month.  The beauty of Christmas and the hope of the New Year have both gone stale, and the only thing that's left is cold temperatures and gray days.  In our heads we know Spring is coming, but in our hearts it still feels a long way off.  We wonder if it will ever truly come.

February has taken on a whole new dread since 2012.  This February will be be the third anniversary of my nephew's death.  The day that the pain and pressure of life drove him to the pit of despair and he took his own life.  There is still a part of me that struggles to believe that is actually true.  Did that really happen?  How is it that a child that was loved with such a fierce love could be gone, and by his own hands?  How?  It does not compute.  He brought our family so much laughter and joy.

But joy wasn't his only story.  Obviously.  We are never just one sided.  As human beings, we have many facets.  I know for me personally, although I love to laugh, I know great sadness.  Though I have wonderful friends, I know profound loneliness.  Though I have been loved well, I can still believe the lie that nobody cares. Although I'm surrounded by light, I know a darkness that runs so deep that only Aslan could tear it out.

My nephew, Jon, was no exception to this phenomenon.  Although he was loved and delighted in, he struggled deeply.  Although he had a delicious sense of humor, he knew despair.  Autoimmune disease, pain, drug addiction and alcoholism were also part of his story.

I have deep, dark regrets when it comes to the last years of Jon's life.  The last time I saw him he was on something.  It was the first time I had ever seen him in that state and I did not react well.  I think deep down, I was scared.  I don't do scared well.  I cover scared up with all kinds of other things that look more powerful, like anger, or self-righteousness, or some other disgusting entity.  I ignored him.  That last time I ever saw his face, I ignored him.  I am tempted to hate myself forever because of that. But through much processing with God in the quietness of my own heart, I have agreed to let it change me instead.  I have chosen instead to reject the pharisee that lives inside my heart and kill it every time it rises up.  When I'm tempted to think I'm better than somebody else, my nephew's face pops into my head and I remember his life and his story and his value, and I bow my head in humility.  His story has changed me.

As much as I would like to, I cannot go back and treat Jon differently that day.  So instead, I treat the people who are still alive differently.  I cannot over look human beings like I used to.  I can no longer drive by the homeless man who panhandles on the corner.  The older one, with a walker, who carries a sign that says, "Anything helps.  God bless."  That man, with the blue eyes.  I stop.  I give him money.  I can't help myself.  I see my nephew.  I say things like, "Please try to stay warm," and "I'm praying that God will bless you." I know that he probably uses the money for alcohol.  The last time I saw him, his skin looked yellow, like maybe his liver is failing.  And it breaks. my. heart.  But if today is his last day on earth, I want him to know that he mattered to me, this woman who drives the silver mini van, and wears the aqua coat, with two dark haired, young girls in the back.  I cry tears on my pillow about him in the middle of the night, when the temps drop down low, and pray that God will protect him.

Just as we are changed when new human beings come into our lives, we are changed when they leave us. Joy, trauma, pain, it all changes us.  It's what it's meant to do.  We're supposed to change.  It's the whole purpose of life.  I feel like it's the only thing I have to offer to honor my nephew's memory.  Because his life mattered to me, I'm different now that he's gone.  Because his life mattered to me, I will value every life that I come in contact with.

Whoever you are, right now reading this blog, I want you to know that your life matters to me.  Whether you're a friend, or a family member, or someone I've never met.  Your life is precious.  If you're addicted to drugs, or alcohol, or pornography, or food, or gambling, or social networking, or your iPhone,...or whatever else.  If you're homeless, or wealthy, or empty or full.  If you're in physical pain or emotional pain.  Your life matters.  Not just to me, but to God.  God cares a million times more than I ever could.  The ripples of your life travel long and far.  If you're struggling with despair and are afraid of what you might do, reach out right now to someone who loves you.  I know it's hard, and you don't want to, and you don't want to inconvenience anybody.  Do it anyway.

Ephesians 3: 14-19 from The Message. "My response is to get down on my knees before the Father, this magnificent Father who parcels out all heaven and earth. I ask him to strengthen you by his Spirit—not a brute strength but a glorious inner strength—that Christ will live in you as you open the door and invite him in. And I ask him that with both feet planted firmly on love, you’ll be able to take in with all followers of Jesus the extravagant dimensions of Christ’s love. Reach out and experience the breadth! Test its length! Plumb the depths! Rise to the heights! Live full lives, full in the fullness of God."

http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

Puke, Pain and Perseverance

When I was pregnant with the kids, I couldn't brush my teeth without gagging.  Now, I can't brush my teeth without tears.  Two very different stages of life.  Two very different reasons.

During my pregnancies, my gag reflex was out of control.  I would throw up for almost any reason.  The smell of bread in a plastic bag, being hungry, the texture of eggs, brushing my teeth - they all sent me running to the toilet.  In retrospect, it's a small price to pay for a brand new life. I may have thrown up enough vomit to fill a dumpster, but I have three amazing human beings to show for it.  The suffering was worth it.  

Last Spring, I started reading a book called Why Pray.  It was a great little read, and as all good books do, it messed with me a little bit.  It began to change the way I prayed.  Instead of praying for weight loss and health, I simply started to pray that God's Kingdom would come in my body and in my heart.  I didn't realize how life changing those prayers would be.  I assumed that God and I had the same ideas about what was good for my body and my health.  I was wrong.

Shortly after starting to pray that prayer, something changed.  My Rheumatoid Arthritis, that had been managed by nutrition alone, without any meds, started to change.  My energy drained.  My feet swelled up and my toes stiffened and wouldn't bend.  I had pain every single minute of every single day, and in a new place every week.  I went back on my meds only to have them changed twice since then.  The latest medication they have me on is a chemotherapy drug, Methotrexate.  This medication is the reason I can't brush my teeth without tears.  My mouth is covered in ulcers, one of the many side effects of this drug.  I give myself a shot of it once a week.  There is no cure for RA, but the hope is with these strong drugs that they can slow down the progression of the disease and minimize the damage it does.  The only thing worse than giving myself a chemotherapy shot is, I'm not sure it's working.  Pain and fatigue still fill my days.

When all of this first started to happen, I wasn't upset.  I felt like because I had prayed that prayer, that I could really trust that this was God's will for me and that he would use it for good.  I was willing to surrender my health.  I was willing to live with pain.  But here's the thing.  It has started to affect other people.  People I really love a lot.  I see the concern in Matt's eyes.  I see the disappointment in my kids faces when I have to say no to a field trip or an outing, or even a trip upstairs to tuck them into bed.  It hurts them.  I know they understand, but that's not the point.  This disease is not just stealing from me, it's stealing from my family and I hate that.

Matt and I have cried many tears about what the next step is.  There are more meds to try, but they come with even more risks.  Very serious risks.  Is my quality of life now worth serious cancer risks in the future?  Is the quality of my life now worth a shorter life span?  We still don't have answers to those questions.

One thing I know for sure is that God loves me.  Something in me is different.  I feel settled in God's love in a new and powerful way.  I can't explain it.  I just know it, to the depths of my being.  I'm loved.  Through this suffering, God is bringing new life.  Though outwardly I'm wasting away, inwardly I'm being made new.  And maybe someday, looking back, like I look back on my pregnancies, I will be able to say that the suffering was worth the new life being formed in me...  But as Aragorn says in The Lord of the Rings, "But it is not this day."  I am just not there yet.

I'm not ready to wrap it up in a neat little package that says, "worth it."  It's hard.  I'm ready to meet Jesus, I can't wait to see his face.  But I am not ready for my children to not have their mother.  I am not ready for my husband to marry somebody else.  He's mine and you can't have him!  I don't mean to be overly dramatic, I know I'm probably not going to die tomorrow, but these are the thoughts that sometimes fill my days.  The disease I have is serious, incurable and life threatening.

So here I am.  I'm sitting here in the middle of two truths. The first truth is that life hurts and doesn't work out like we plan it, and the other is that God loves me and has not deserted me.  One does not exclude the other.  They are both true.  God is with us in the pain.  As Brene Brown says, '"I thought faith was going to be like a epidural and take the pain away, but instead it is like a midwife saying, "Push, it's supposed to hurt."'  

So, I will not give up.  I will persevere because God is with me.  I will surrender to what God wants to do with my life, but I will not surrender to this disease.  I will fight it every step of the way because my children and husband need me to do that.  Just as I continue to brush my teeth even though my mouth hurts, I will persevere through pain for the greater good.  I will let the pain change me.  I will let it make me softer, more compassionate and more loving.  I will not let it make me bitter and mean.  Because when all is said and done, love will have been the only thing that mattered.

2 Corinthians 4:16 - That is why we never give up.  Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day.

1 Corinthians 8:1-3 - But while knowledge makes us feel important, it is love that strengthens the church.  Anyone who claims to know all the answers doesn't really know very much.  But the person who loves God is the one whom God recognizes.