Being Brave Without My Pearls

I broke my string of pearls....

For my whole life, or what feels like it's my whole life, I've wanted to be a writer. I really want to publish a book. I long to see my name on its cover. It's actually why I started blogging to begin with. I told the children one day I was going to write a book about our lives, and they were THRILLED! No seriously, they were. This was probably 10 years or more ago and at that time they thought me chronicling and sharing every last detail of their lives was super cool. So I started a blog to start recording things. Not this one, This One--Growing Up Doyle.

Back in those days, the children frequently asked, when is your book going to be published? None of us knew anything about the publishing business--probably a good thing because I would have never voiced my dream--chalk it up to that whole "what if I tell people and then I can't do it" part of me. Well right now that part of me is screaming at the cocky person I was 10 years ago thinking I could write a book! Anyway...

Over time I started this blog and began sharing my dream with a few people (and now the whole freaking world or at least the 60 something people who will read this). Some people who aren't related to me so don't have to encourage me while silently laughing, even have told me I should write a book. One person, who is actually in the publishing business, even gave me the title for my book--Running with Pearls.  A couple of weeks ago I decided to be brave.

I started working with a coach/spiritual director. One of the first things she said to me was, "You know you're not really a writer. You're more compelling when you speak." Okay, I'm lying she didn't say that. But it's what I heard...

What about my dream to be a writer? What about the really cool title a really cool publisher gave my book? 

Well, what my really cool coach/spiritual director actually said that I could hear after I silenced the stupid whiny teenager part of my self, was in response to me saying I wanted to be a writer and a speaker--I meant speaking about my non-existent book, and she said, "I think you ought to start doing some short videos now and getting them out there." I figured why not? (Plus I'm paying her and she told me to, so there is that....)

And then my 20-year-old daughter told me she liked it when I put a video inside a blog, and you know when you're 20-year-old says anything positive to you or about you, you act on it! So I have started sticking videos in like the one at the top of this page. Okay, that's also not entirely true--but truly young adults living at home during Covid is not for the faint of heart! And she would agree--I mean she covered up the I love my mom bumper sticker!!

So now I'm doing all these other things and I have no idea who I really am. Here's another thing--I have no idea if what I'm doing matters to anyone but me. I have no idea whether people are laughing at or with me, and I have no idea where this is going. But here's something I do know, or I'm trying to know.

We are more than one thing. We can do more than one thing. We might even be good at more than one thing. Or we figure something else out.

When my pearls broke I was upset and still am--well not upset enough to already have them at the jewelers--but upset. Wearing pearls is who I am. I never take them off even though I want to be like my really cool friend Andrea who takes hers off every night (see video for explanation)--well I also want to be like her anyway because I'm telling you that woman has her shit together! (Truth, most of the time she has her shit together and does amazing things, but because I get to be her friend, I know it's not always perfect.) But I am not Andrea who lovingly takes her pearls off each night; I am that lady who wears pearls even when I'm running--even when I'm running on the beach with my dog who also wears her pearls--which also broke last night.

But the real lesson in all this is I don't know. I don't know if I'm a writer, or a speaker, or both. I don't know if I'll ever be published or asked to speak anywhere. But I'll never know if I don't try, and I do know whether it reaches anyone else, or means anything to anyone else, it brings me joy--and joy seems to be lacking in huge quantities in the world right now.

I also know this--we all have lots of identities. Important identities--I am a wife, mother, priest, daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, and friend. But our most important identity is the identity we all share, and that is we are all beloved children of God created in God's image. And that's enough. 

PS--I just got a text from another really cool friend (she may actually be the coolest--at least my children think so) that said "Thank you for your recent posts and thank you for helping me to take a break." That made me smile.

Choices, Compassion, and Clothes

Y'all, I just can't stop thinking about that roasted chicken, (in case you need to read) probably because of some of the "suggestions" given to me. To be clear, I am open to suggestions. In fact, I love them even if I don't agree with them. They give me more to think about, and goodness knows I need more to think about--especially things I can't control...(well maybe my therapist needs that so she can stay in business).

So one of the comments I heard revolved around the idea of choices. The most extreme was that people who are homeless are probably that way because of the choices they made. Well, first of all, let's agree to say unhoused (or at least that's what I'm going to say), and secondly, there actually are people who are unhoused because THEY CHOOSE TO BE! So if that's the choice you're referring to, I wholeheartedly agree. Something tells me, however, it's not....

I could argue this one particular scenario until the cows come home, but I won't because a) I would get so angry I would want to tear your arm off and beat you to death with the bloody stump and b) I'd rather generalize this whole thing so that, please refer to a).

I agree with this. We all make choices AND we all face consequences (or should face consequences) for those choices--both good and bad consequences. What I don't get with all this thinking and reflecting I'm doing is why some choices and their consequences seem to be unforgivable and are not met with any sort of compassion?

Play along with me here--let's say I'm speeding, have an accident and one of my children in the car is killed. I made the choice to speed; one of my children was killed, but I can almost 100% guarantee you no one would show up and say or even write on my Facebook wall, "Well, you made the choice to speed so that's just the consequence of your choice." (If you did either of those things, well then you're meaner than a snake, and should probably stop reading now.) 

Now let's return to the unhoused again for a minute and the supposed choices they make that result in being unhoused. It could be true for some people they squandered all their money on gambling or drugs or bad investments or whatever else. They made choices and the consequence of the choice is they lost a place to live, often instead of compassion, there is judgment and scorn (and no roasted chicken).

Let's look at a final example, what if I was speeding, had an accident, one of my children was killed and the way I coped was by numbing my mind with alcohol and drugs, and then either I lost my house or my husband kicked me out? 

It seems to me if we are to have true compassion--the kind of compassion God asks us to have--it shouldn't be dependent on someone else's choices. It seems like we should be able to have compassion for others as human beings even if we disagree with the choices they make. People already have to live with the consequences of their choices, they don't need us to pile on.

On a less serious note--I have to live with the consequence of having some Godawful pictures out there because of my choice in attire....

Bullying Reindeer

So yesterday I started working on Advent--yes, I know it's October, but in the church world I'm actually behind. I have no idea why, but the song Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer kept going through my head until my mind came to a screeching halt!

Y'all--listen to (or in the case here read) the words. And I'm going to highlight (if I can figure out how) the difficult words.

You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen
Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen
But do you recall
The most famous reindeer of all?

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
Had a very shiny nose
And if you ever saw it
You would even say it glows

All of the other reindeer
Used to laugh and call him names
They never let poor Rudolph
Join in any reindeer games

Then one foggy Christmas Eve
Santa came to say
"Rudolph, with your nose so bright
Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

Then how the reindeer loved him
As they shouted out with glee
"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
You'll go down in history"

Now just think about it...all those mean reindeer bullies left Rudolph out UNTIL HE SAVED THEIR JOBS! What kind of message is it sending? You are only worthy and included and liked IF you do something for others IF you produce. 

Or maybe another way to look at it is Rudolph learned to live into who he was through the encouragement of Santa--but it still doesn't let those other bullying reindeer off the hook.

So we sing this at Christmas when we also celebrate the birth of Jesus--God's greatest gift to us which we don't deserve in the slightest. It's a gift God has given us just because. We don't have to prove we are worthy; we don't have to justify who we are; we are loved and worthy of dignity and respect just because.

So no, I don't want to ban the song. It's a song y'all, not a reason to get our panties in a wad. BUT it's also a good opportunity for formation. It's a good opportunity for us to consider what culture teaches us and what God teaches us. It's a good opportunity for us to reflect on how we behave and why. 

Theological reflection anyone?

 

Recovery Takes A Lot of Work

Chris and I don't fight a lot. It's the truth and not a statement about a perfect marriage (it's not). We just don't. We fuss; we disagree; we get annoyed, but we really have very few fights. And this is not because we agree on everything, we don't. 

One of us is a morning person, one of us is not. One of us loves to bike, one of us doesn't. One of us is reserved, one of us is not. And there's more...

We don't manage money the same. We don't even parent the same. Yes, it's true, and all you parenting "experts" are lying--yes I said it, lying if you say all parents, or even most parents do. Just because we don't parent the same way doesn't mean we don't have the same end goal in mind, we just go about it differently. We just don't have those big fights some couples have (no judgment). Partly I think it's because we just get each other and are honest even when the other doesn't want to hear it. For example, last night when I was telling him about a text exchange I was in and what I did and then said, "Do you think I was kind of being bratty and a baby?" and he said, "Yes. You were." And that is a whole other story I'm not ready to share because I'm still being bratty and a baby because my feelings are hurt. So I guess that's another way we are different, I get my feelings hurt SUPER easily--Chris might say irrationally easily, but he doesn't because that would lead to a fight...

Sometimes, however, we do fight--like last night. It was a doozy of a fight that resulted in our watching the second half of the Georgia game in separate rooms (maybe that was the silver lining...it was brutal!). Here's the truth (and the spoiler alert), on the surface last night's "fight" looks like it does stem from money and parenting, but looks can be deceiving...follow along.

Several weeks ago Boss lost his AirPods. I searched the cars; he searched the cars; I searched the cars again; he searched the cars again--no luck. He didn't blame anyone. He didn't try to "borrow" anyone else's And those two statements are what led me (or I pretend led me) to do what I did.

Boss and I are similar in our ways to release stress. We both like to run. He also listens to a lot of music. The semester was starting again, I knew he was under stress; I didn't want him to be under stress,  and so I went and bought him a new pair. Remember, he didn't ask me to or even throw a flinging fit of any sort--remember that is what I now realize was my rationalization. Anyway, I bought the AirPods and took them to him. I knew he was at the gym. What you should probably know is I did not discuss this with Chris...

I walked in the gym and over to his treadmill where he was running-- fast (we don't run at the same pace to relieve stress) with a pair of headphones in, but they were the cord kind--so old school. I handed him the box of brand new AirPods. To his credit (I can't remember if I told Chris this) he tried not to take them. "You didn't have to do that Mama," he said, "I was going to ask for them for Christmas, and I'm still not convinced I won't find mine." I started walking away with a wave of the hand. "Just use them, and if you find yours we'll give these to Daddy." I'm not going to lie--I liked being "the hero."    

Truth is I have always tried to "fix" things for our children. I haven't wanted them to suffer or be uncomfortable. Really isn't that true for most parents? The other thing that is true is good parenting requires sometimes being uncomfortable yourself and watching your kids struggle because that is how they grow. There may have been (read there definitely have been) a few times I gave in to my own discomfort at seeing them hurt or angry or uncomfortable and rushed in to fix things-see those parenting differences from above...

So here's where it starts getting a little sketchy...

As I pulled out of the parking lot after delivering the brand new in the box AirPods and headed to lunch with my friend (who also deals with addiction in her family) I thought some form of the thought "if he's tempted to use again, he'll remember this and he won't because he'll know how much I love him and that I would do anything for him, and he'll feel guilty if he even thinks about it, and he'll not do it, and now I can sleep at night knowing I'm in control and have fixed it for him." It wasn't exactly that, but it was close enough and also fully manipulative, controlling (or attempting to be controlling), and most importantly unhealthy. But I just ignored that little pesky voice that tries to be a voice of health and reason (and financial security).

Do you see where this is going?

That very afternoon I got a text from Boss...you are right--he found his AirPods. The new AirPods had already been opened. And why last night I decided to come clean with Chris I have NO. FREAKING. IDEA. But I did. And he was mad, and he doesn't want the AirPods, and he was mad, and he was right. (You have no idea how hard it was for me to type that sentence and will be even harder for me to say...)

I didn't tell Chris before, because he would have told me not to, and I didn't want to fight about it, or have him tell me not to and then go behind his back, so I just went behind his back to begin with--it made perfect sense to me--at the time. The other thing I know, and this might be even harder, is that I have a long way to go in my own recovery.

If I'm being completely honest with myself and not just trying to put lipstick on a pig, I was totally using those AirPods as a way to calm my anxiety over my inability to control whether or not Boss chooses to drink or use drugs again. I was trying to manage his life--keep all stress out of it because I believed, or wanted to believe, that would keep him in recovery. That's neither healthy nor fair.

It's not fair to Chris, and it's not fair to Boss. It is not allowing him to make his own choices or trusting in him to make good ones. It is not honoring his dignity and worth. It is not honoring his personhood. It was and is wrong. 

So what I now have to admit is I have a long way to go with my own recovery, and I have an apology to make. Anyone need some barely used AirPods?

Prayer for Serenity

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time,
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardship as a pathway to peace;
taking, as Jesus did,
this sinful world as it is,
not as I would have it;
trusting that You will make all things right
if I surrender to Your will;
so that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with You forever in the next.

Amen.

                                            Reinhold Niebuhr

        

Remembering Hope

Yesterday I was walking and listening to the podcast Unlocking It. Brene Brown and Presiding

Bishop Curry were talking about his latest book (which I just ordered). One of the things they talked about was the importance of community and the pain of not being able to be together for in-person worship. Brown gave these three reasons for why she goes to church (and I am not quoting them exactly just as I remember them so please no one report me). She said she goes to church to sing with strangers, pass the peace with people she'd rather punch in the throat (sounds like a Caroline saying right there), and kneel at the altar to break bread with people she'd never have dinner with. It was like a gut punch...

I miss being in in-person worship with every fiber of my being and for all those reasons--except for me singing with strangers is because I love to sing and I'm terrible at singing, but in-person worship allows me to sing and have it drowned out by beauty. I miss passing the peace, and I miss sharing Eucharist. I know, I know--I do get to receive Eucharist each week and share it with one or two other people. I am not denying that, and I recognize it is a privilege not everyone has. My heart broke when I heard someone say, "It's sad I have to go to a funeral to receive communion." It is sad and unfair and frustrating and so many other emotions. But I was called to preach the Gospel and to administer the sacraments, it is part of who I am. It is in my heart, body, and soul. 

I kept walking increasing my pace as though I could outwalk my pain. The pain comes from not only not being able to administer the sacraments to all but also with the exhaustion of trying to preach hope week after week after week after week. 

Please hear me, I do have hope--and on my good days, it holds me tightly. But sometimes, well sometimes, I hear one more heartbreaking story of trauma and loss and pain and suffering, and it's JUST. SO. DAMN. HARD! 

During the fall of 2016, I was 7 or 8 months into being priest-in-charge at St.Thomas. I had already fallen in love with the parish, but one of the things that sealed the deal was during the month of October. Every week there were two people who would kneel next to one another at the altar to receive. One wore a Trump button and one wore a Clinton. Y'all it was every week. And then these two sat together at coffee hour, shared stories from their decades-old friendship, and every week I left marveling and basking in this visible display of the Kingdom of God. And every week my hope in the in-breaking of the Kingdom was restored. 

Four years later I know those weren't the only two on different political sides who knelt and will kneel again next to one another (they were just the most obvious--you know those great big buttons). I ache to see that visible manifestation of unity. I need to see it. I need to be reminded.

Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit! THIS IS WHY!!!!! This is why we tell the stories from the Bible over and over. This is why we tell our own stories over and over. They become connected, and they remind us. They remind us during the dark times when we can't see the light that we've seen it before even when there was darkness. They remind us that we are not alone--there are generations of people who have struggled and have gotten through. They give us the knot to hold onto when we want to let go and fall into the abyss of despair. 

It hasn't changed my ache to have a full church--to sing at the top of my lungs (okay I promise I really won't do that), to pass the peace even with Kentucky fans, and to administer the sacrament to those with whom I agree and to those with whom I don't. But it reminds me the Church is more than just a gathering of people in a building one day a week. It is people in life, daily life, who share their stories and hold each other through waves of life--the hard times and the good times. It is people who hold each other accountable, encourage one another, love one another, forgive one another, and let all of that ooze out into the world. It is a people of hope.

I just needed to remember so I could re-member. 

I Wish I'd Bought the Damn Chicken

On a good Sunday, this high energy, extroverted, extra priest is exhausted following worship. Add in a global pandemic and low iron levels, and well, it's not pretty.

Last Sunday after the service ended, I was sitting at my desk, getting my credit card receipts together (my treasurer is ruthless) when I was called to the parking lot. "There's a woman and her son out here asking for some help." I put on my mask and dragged myself outside, and I'll be honest, I was really hoping this was going to be quick and easy--like 30 seconds quick and easy so I could finish up and go home to sleep.

I asked her how I could help. She told me they had been living in her car for 2 weeks after she lost her job due to the pandemic. She said she'd just gotten a job at Wendy's and had found a room in a basement she could rent but she needed to put down $100 and she only had $40. I explained I couldn't give her $60 in cash (in addition to its not good practice from a discretionary account, I didn't have $60 in cash even in my own wallet), but I could give her my card and the landlord person could call me and we could figure out how I could pay the amount. I was telling her this at the same time as I was wondering how someone who had been living in her car for 2 weeks looked as good as she did--hair and make up clean and perfect.

I went back inside to get one of my cards glancing in the mirror and confirming the woman outside looked far better than me....

As I handed her my card she told me she couldn't even get to the house where she could move in because she didn't have any gas and it was 30 minutes away. That problem I could solve! I told her to follow me to the gas station one block away and I would fill her car up. I headed to my car and heard her mutter, "But you won't give me $60." I wanted to turn around and correct her--I was going to pay the $60 there was just a process that had to happen, but honestly, I didn't have the energy and I was still having visions of my bed. I just wanted to get this done.

She followed me--I wasn't sure if she was going to. She pulled in and I walked over to pay for her gas. I really really really wanted to just put my credit card in, get in my car, return to sort my receipts, and head home. But I'm a rule follower and I knew I had to wait for the receipt. I hoped her gas tank wasn't huge so it would fill quickly. 

I have no idea how big her gas tank is because at less than 3 gallons and $5.31 in the car was full. My thoughts were not pure. A part of me wanted to double back and question her statement about not having any gas, but a) I didn't have the energy and b) as irritated as I was, I didn't want to be overtly unkind. I got the receipt and turned to go. "We're really hungry," she said. I took a deep breath and turned around, "Come back to the church. We have a Little Library we've turned into a food pantry. You are welcome to all that is in there." (I also knew it had just been restocked so it was indeed full.) "Well," she said, "What I really want is a roast chicken."

I honestly don't remember what I said, but I got back in my car and drove back to church. She did not.

Here's what I know and don't know today. I recognize she really just wanted the money. I don't know whether it truly was for a deposit for a room to rent (I never heard from anyone). I know her car wasn't really empty, but at least it was now completely full. I suspect she and her son were hungry (he looked to be about 13 or 14 years old and boys that age are always hungry). I don't know if she had taken anything from the Little Library at that time or in the days since. I know I was tired, judgemental, and annoyed. I know Kroger is directly across the street from the church. I know a roasted chicken costs $4.99. I know I didn't offer to go over there and buy her a roasted chicken. I know I could have.

Today I am left with this. Any food she took from the Little Library would feed them and fill their stomachs at least for that day, but a roasted chicken very well could have fed them and filled their souls for the days to come. Maybe she would have walked away with her roasted chicken annoyed she didn't get $60 in cash, but she and her son would have known there was someone who believed they mattered enough to take the time and to respond. 

Maybe she wouldn't have been grateful. Maybe she would try to con someone else (if that's what she was doing). Maybe the whole thing was a scheme. But maybe a seed would have been planted--a seed that could grow into her son and her knowing they were beloved children of God worthy of dignity and respect no matter what. 

I really wish I'd bought that damn roasted chicken.

Leave Room for the Holy Spirit (and not just at dances)

Last Sunday after church I came home and sent a text to one of my best friends and a clergy

colleague. "Preaching is getting harder and harder to preach hope."

I love preaching. My call to ordination came with these words which popped into my head as I crossed over Broad Street in Athens, Georgia July 1997. "Make faith matter to people's ordinary everyday lives." But right now, right now, like so many other people, I'm tired. I'm tired, and I feel like I say the same thing over and over, and I can't remember what I said, and....let me back up a minute.

Two weeks ago I went in for a routine appointment. My lab work came back with extremely low iron levels. I've been anemic before, but this was different. I did a little research (love me some web MD!) and discovered in addition to exhaustion low

iron causes brittle nails (my nails were breaking daily), hair falling out (clogged sink anyone?), cold hands and feet (well that's nothing new), heart palpitations (which are keeping me from sleeping despite the exhaustion), feeling anxious (ding ding we have a winner!), and get ready, confusion (the gold medal).  Surgery has been scheduled but in the meantime...

Back to the preaching---I don't preach with a script or any notes (which doesn't mean I don't spend hours on it). By the time I deliver a sermon I have "rehearsed" it many many times in my head. Truth is there are some mornings I go for a run or iron before service and the Holy Spirit decides some of it needs to change. I respect that, and 99% of the time give into her. But last Sunday....

I was preaching. Preaching during this time is hard any time--I hate not seeing people. I'm an extrovert and get energy from people, seeing faces. I like seeing expressions on people's faces even if it's boredom, disagreement, or in the case of my children making the "cut" sign. This week, I couldn't remember what I had said when I started the sermon, and by the time I sat down, I had no idea what I'd said throughout. I was 100% sure it was disjointed and all over the board. I was both embarrassed and exhausted, and thus my text to my friend.

It's been a few days. I actually heard from a few people who said it resonated with them--I have no clue what that was because I can't remember it and I'm still too intimidated to listen to the recording. (Okay y'all, seriously! How messed up is that?!!?!? I'm intimidated by myself....Becky?) Today during yet another zoom call we prayed a prayer written by Bishop Ken Untener but often credited to Oscar Romero. These words resonated with me, "It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter in and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are the workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs." Basically, step aside, do your best, and leave room for the Holy Spirit.

What are you trying desperately to control? Where do you believe you are at best, mediocre? These are hard times, give yourself a break, trust, and leave room for the Holy Spirit. Maybe today was a mediocre day for you. That's okay. You are a beloved child of God, and you're enough--the Holy Spirit will fill in the rest.

 

The Playlist

So I have a friend….Jimmy Van Bergen or JVB or if you meet him as an adult Jim Van

Bergen. (But I didn’t meet him as an adult so I’m sticking with the first two options…) Anyway, he’s pretty amazing. We’ve known each other since 3^rd grade, and who knew back then as he told stupid joke after stupid joke (that I laughed at) that one day he would be living in New York and be an Emmy award-winning sound designer and producer and I would still get to be his friend? Well, the answer is not me.

To me, he is the goofy redhead, with a sister my sister's age, who sang like an angel, and knew me through the most awkward eras of my life—and despite me not always being kind, or aware, or self-confident, even though there were days I'm as certain as I am I have four children I walked right by him without speaking, he liked me, and still does. Nowadays he is a go to for me when I need reassurance, or a calm, smart, compassionate voice.

Last night he created this Spotify playlist he entitled, “Just Very Katherine.” (Listen Here) He has started creating these playlists for friends. He chooses songs that reflect, that describe,  a person’s life, interests, and personality. He chooses songs he believes tell the person’s story. It's almost like he can see into a person's heart, mind, and soul. Well, this time he didn’t make me cry with his singing, he made me cry with his song choices that tell the story of how he sees me. The adjectives he used in its description are “bubbly, fun, introspective, wicked sense of humor and thoughtful.” We went back and forth a couple of times about the negative ways I see myself and some regrets from my past. I told him I knew I had been a horrible person in highschool. His words as he concluded my list, “By the way, you were never a horrible person. We weren’t our best selves in high school, but the framework was there.

This morning as I listen to the playlist (well, morning into the afternoon since it’s over 5 hours long!) I am thinking about how God sees us all and whether we believe it or argue instead reminding God over and over why we're not enough. Do we listen to the voices in the world who choose to focus on our areas of struggle or do we listen to the voices that rejoice in our growth and transformation? JVB, I’m sure, remembers some of those parts of me that weren’t my best self, but that’s not what he chose to focus on, those aren’t the words he used to be my descriptors. 

Do you argue with God reminding God of the parts of you that are less than ideal? Do you re-live times in your life you’re not proud of, think about mistakes you’ve made, and hide your face in shame? Or, do you remember Psalm 139:14 which acknowledges you are fearfully and wonderfully made because God made you and God made you in God’s image? I know I spend a lot of time doing the former, but today JVB reminded me even when we’re not our best selves, God’s framework remains. God's angels are singing about the glory of God and each and every one of us is part of that glory. God's angels are singing about us.

Thank you JVB, and hey, look, you’re shoes untied!!!! (third-grade joke)

PS I really wish I had a recording of JVB singing "Stairway to Heaven" in the 8th grade. 

If You Have to Ask the Question, "Was it me?" the Answer is Probably "yes"

Just about every time I write about our family’s journey with addiction I get a few calls, texts, or emails. I’m pretty sure I have never used anyone’s name specifically so usually,

the question is some version of this. "I hope I'm not the one/ones who hurt you, left you, judged you." or "Am I one of the ones who gave you unconditional support?" Okay, that's a lie--I've never gotten the second question, but I often get the first.

Today I have the courage given to me by one of the bravest people I know to answer that question in two parts. First, I've got to tilt my head the way she does, lower my voice, and virtually pat your hand as I say, "How do you expect me to answer that?" And secondly, "the most honest answer is, if you're asking the question you probably are." 

This is not the time for a mic drop....

This week I learned something else from another brave friend, or rather I would like to say her courage and then grace hit me upside the head like I am a beaten redheaded stepchild. This is quite frankly not true, because in the long-used phrase "beaten like a redheaded stepchild" the redheaded stepchild is a child treated worse than others, and actually this person treated me not worse than others but rather with grace--but I digress. The point is, her grace and bravery sloshed together with the wisdom of my other friend from above is letting me say this.

Yes, if you're asking you probably were/are one of those people, BUT, it's okay. Truly it is.

Is your head spinning around like the song, you spin me right round baby right round like a record baby right round right round? I am dead serious though, if you are one of those people, it's genuinely okay, and here's why.

Our family was going through something and literally building the ship while we were sailing it. It was chaotic and scary for us. I'm sure watching it wasn't pleasant either. What I realize now is there could be lots of reasons you "disappeared" or "semi-disappeared."

• The dark world of addiction is intense, maybe you just didn't have the bandwidth to go there with me because you were protecting yourself and your family and not using up your bandwidth on ours. I respect that.
• Maybe it hit too close to home for you. I understand.
• Maybe you didn't know what to say or do and then the longer you remained silent, the harder it was. I totally get that.
• Maybe you thought bringing it up would make it harder for me. The truth is some days it probably would have.
• Maybe I shut you out first. A very real possibility.
• Maybe I acted like I didn't need or want help. See above
• Maybe you thought our home, our "lifestyle", or what was currently happening was unsafe emotionally, physically, or mentally, to the point you had to back away. I always support people protecting themselves and those they love.
• Maybe our friendship was built on something else--being at our children's games, volunteer activities, or anything else, and when that no longer became my focus, through no fault of either of us we drifted apart. That doesn't mean our friendship wasn't real or genuine. It's just the commonalities that held us together no longer exist, but there were some fun days. Thank you for the memories.
• Maybe our friendship had just reached the end of its time. That happens. Thank you for the friendship we had. I am grateful you shared yourself with me.

And here are some other possibilities

• Maybe you did want to distance yourself for fear you or your child would be implicated.
• Maybe you did judge the decisions we made.

Those are okay too. Here's the gosh honest to God unvarnished truth--I've done the same thing in other circumstances.

Here's something else that's okay. Our family's journey for better or worse moved us down a path we never expected nor ever wanted to walk. That walked changed our lives, changed our priorities, changed our relationships. If we're no longer "friends" or no longer friends in the way we once were, and you are trying to fix it. Stop, and give yourself a break. We can't go back. Know there are very few, actually, there are zero friendships, I have had in my life that I fully regret. In every one, I have learned and grown and loved and been loved. I take a part of each of them with me. If our friendship is continuing, you already know I'm different than I was 5 years ago. Call it trauma, call it therapy, call it growth.

So, yeah, if you are asking the question "was I one of them" the answer is probably yes. But, you don't need to apologize or defend yourself or fix it. We all do the best we can. Grace and peace to us all.

PS--in the interest of complete transparency, if you are someone who gossiped about us and spread false information--well I'm still working on that grace and forgiveness, but I know God already has it covered, so grace and peace to you too.