Category Archives: GENERAL INTEREST

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I Felt Like Damaged Goods

 My Life

I have referred to pain in my past a number of times on this blog. You know bits and pieces. But you have no idea how truly difficult it was for me. Pain left me broken, upended, with hopes dashed. I had given it my all. I had tried my hardest, but my efforts were never enough.  God was with me, and us, the whole way.

In my naivety, I once upon a time believed that being a Christian and having a strong belief in God was enough … to carry me through just about anything and everything. But I never expected my life would know the harsh side of several of the biggies, and in their aftermath, the long and arduous road to recovery, and that it would so utterly and completely impact and change me. Part of my journey was hard, harder than I ever thought possible.

Every story has a reason. You can find its meaning if you seek it. I’ve learned to not regret my life. I now know what I didn’t know then, that God is the keeper of the flame. He doesn’t waste anything. I could not share what I talk about today if I hadn’t been stripped of everything I’d depended upon, and then still found God as enough. He will always be enough. Every time you look at his beautiful creation, God is whispering to you that he is enough. God is love. I know it is true because he is the maker of us all, and he is the keeper of us all, and he is the lover of us all (adapted from St. Julian of Norwich).

I shared on Facebook that it has been ten years since I first went public with my story of pain for my church family. You should know that it took a great deal of courage for me to talk about personal issues involving others in my family. I debated it back and forth for well over a year. I was scared to tell it; scared that I might break down and cry, scared that I would say too much, scared that my ex-husband might become angry with me, worried that it would embarrass my family or they would resent it, worried that I wouldn’t carry it off well, and worried that it would backfire. Most of all, I feared that people would think I was foolish by the choices I had made, that had, ultimately, caused me much pain. I didn’t think people would understand how much was required of me in the making of those hard choices.

For twenty-five years I had lived in a self-enclosed bubble. The barrier effectively kept others out and kept me in. I couldn’t be real because I could not openly share my life with others, about what was behind the mask. I was a ministry leader and teacher in three areas in my church and that put a condition on it. I had avoided talking the personal stuff should I break down and cry. I feared the sobs would be forceful and unstoppable. I avoided women’s retreats for fear of becoming emotional. I knew I dared not risk it. Besides, there were secret sorrows I had protected out of respect for my loved ones–my children and my extended family and my Ex and his extended family (we were still friends).

But God had healed me, he had deep down inside healed me. I reasoned, he had given me a gift that should be used to help others. My speaking would be the fulfillment of a vow I’d made, to give out of what I had been given. I asked my spiritual father, Pastor Pete, if I could share my story with our church family. Much of what I had learned wasn’t textbook Christianity but was helpful. I wanted to help some of my friends, the ones who also suffered in silence, like I had suffered–sad for what wasn’t mine and wishful for what I wished was mine, and that life wouldn’t be so hard.

It is unfortunate that Christians used to, more than now, teach that feelings are undependable, sometimes counterfeit, unpredictable and that truth stands alone. Truth does stand alone, but the way it is presented can be skewed. We’ve all seen truth used like a hammer to badger people. True truth is verified through the outpouring of the emotions and feelings. It is because of GOD’S LOVE that we have the capacity to love. We love because God loved.

I know God loves me. I know in a tangible way that his love sustained me through hardship and emotional turmoil. I was so alone. God carried me through. I grew in him. I loved him. I clung to him. I sorrowed with him. He was there every time I was wounded and sat under a walnut tree to sob, pray, compose my emotions, regroup, and then return to my children, husband, and their needs. God taught me more than you can imagine. God was, and is, my strength, hope, and joy. Greatest of all, I learned to trust him. In the quietness on numerous occasions, the thought came, “Trust me.”

To Be Continued.

Last Friday I said I would include an audio recording of my testimony today. Sorry, I got the cart before the horse. I do have the audio recording ready to roll but whether it will be posted at all depends on the permissions I receive from the people in my story. If it is to be, it will be. God knows. In my heart of hearts I would like to share my story with you. But it is not only my story, it also involves others…. and they have to be comfortable with it or see the good it can do. I will keep you informed.

I hope you have a good week.

Norma

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Are We Having Fun Yet?

Are you fun to live with?

As my pastor used to say, “Are you fun to live with?” He encouraged us to include lighthearted moments in our homes. He appreciated humor. As a young man his home life was anything but fun. His stepmother did not accept him or love him. He left home at a young age, something like fifteen or sixteen, and thumbed his way from Wisconsin to the West, where he found work as a cowhand. The road was rocky for awhile and then his life turned around because He met Jesus. Eventually he studied for the pastorate. He had a lot of healing and growing to do but in time God gave him a robust ministry. He is now retired.

Anyhoo, Pastor Pete loves humor and he incorporated that into our services. Almost every Sunday there was a joke to tell or something that would make us laugh.  Sunday evenings during the prayer service, he routinely told three or four jokes. We grew to expect it. I think humor helped him deal with life. He’d had extra pressure and struggles that most don’t have in regard his wife’s health. Pastor could make me laugh even when I was not in the mood for laughing. I couldn’t help it. I can be too serious so it was good for me.

Am I fun to live with?

Humor makes such a difference. It lightens it up wherever you are. A few weeks ago I was at a meeting where the entrepreneur, a writing coach, kept us in stitches with her wisecracks about errors writers make and funny things they do. It was really too funny. Dry wit is a winner.

When I first took notice of humor and how it can defuse a difficult situation was at my sister’s memorial service. We were sorrowing deeply. The air was thick with hurt and pain and confusion. Toward the end of the service, there was an open mic time. Many shared, including me. I was struggling, the tears kept surfacing. Near the end, amid many tearful comments, a pastor’s wife, a woman in her seventies, stood up and came to the front.

She paused, smiled at us, and then began a story. She talked about when her husband was the pastor of the church my family had attended during my youth, about her being the children’s church teacher when my sister was in the primary grades. She took us, there. How my little sister would attentively look at her with those big brown eyes while she was teaching and how every so often my sister would turn and look behind her to make eyes at little Richie S. and how he would make eyes back at her. We all laughed, picturing it in our minds. I remembered Richie, they were the same age. The tension in the room released like a big sigh, and we all felt relieved and everyone in the room relaxed.

Humor was just what we needed to cushion that day of sadness. I learned something that day and tucked the thought away and have since found opportunities to use it. A few years later, a lady I knew passed away. She was a go-getter but her health had been failing for quite some time. Her grown kids were not in the area so I would keep tabs on her. When the ability to drive was beyond her, I helped her sell her pickup truck. I was a friend of her daughter who was teaching out of the country at the time. The lady lived in the same complex as my father-in-law. The day she passed on, I was the first person called. I went right over.

I phoned her oldest son who I was not acquainted with, and it shocked him. I could hear it in his voice. He took it from there. Few people came to the service. People were invited to share. I was first up and already knew what I would say. It would have some humor because that helps. I talked about selling the lady’s pickup and how after negotiating the deal the buyer said to me, “She’s quite a character!” Everyone laughed right on cue because they knew it was true of her, she was quite a character. Her oldest son, the one I’d phoned, said to me afterwards, “Quite a character, huh?” We both grinned.

Tonight there was a bit of humor. I came home from my dad’s with all sorts of goodies that he had stockpiled from Costco runs. I put the snacks in a gallon jar in the pantry so I won’t eat too many. My daughter later comes home from work and retreats to her room. I tap on the door. “Come in,” she says. I hold up the jar of goodies, and we both laugh, no words exchanged. I tell her, “They’re in the pantry.” We laugh because we’ve been eating these same goodies for a few months now, whenever we go to visit him. Grandpa is Grandpa, he’s always liked the snacks, and we do appreciate him offering them to us. Reminds me of the tamale lady who comes by every other Saturday, but that’s another story!

So, I have a joke for you. This one came from a man in a wheelchair who came over to my mother and me at the care facility. She and I were comfortably conversing when he asked us if we wanted to hear a joke. I was hesitant, thinking, is it a dirty joke? He said, “You’ll like it.” I replied, “I hope I get it.” He smiled and then began to read it to us. Mother and I were both laughing, it was too funny. He gave me the paper and said it was a joke that had been around a long time.

Now it’s your turn to enjoy it! This joke is best when read out loud. lol

Once upon a time, a perfect man and a perfect woman met. After a perfect courtship, they had a perfect wedding. Their life together was, of course, perfect.

One snowy, stormy Christmas Eve, this perfect couple was driving their perfect car along a winding road, when they noticed someone at the side of the road in distress. Being the perfect couple, they stopped to help.

There stood Santa Claus with a huge bundle of toys. Not wanting to disappoint any children on the eve of Christmas, the perfect couple loaded Santa and his toys into their perfect car. Soon they were driving along delivering the toys.

Unfortunately, the driving conditions deteriorated and the perfect couple and Santa Calus had a serious accident. Only one of them survived!

Who was the survivor? (Men, Women: read on to see the answer.)

The perfect woman survived. She’s the only one who really existed in the first place. Everyone knows there is no Santa Claus and there is no such thing as a perfect man.

Women: Stop reading here. This is the end of the joke for you.

Men: Keep on reading.

So, if there is no perfect man and no Santa Claus, the perfect woman must have been driving. This explains why there was a car accident in the first place.

By the way, if you’re a woman and you’re reading this, this also illustrates a second point. Overly curious women often fail to follow directions!

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Are  you fun to live with?

Read a good joke, here!
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