Thinking out loud while "changing my thinking"

in Him

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Letters to the broken

As I stood in the kitchen washing dishes, the news of his father becoming a drug user began to circle my mind. Even though I knew there was no direct way to verify this allegation…there was also no reason to deny it. He used to deal…he just got out of jail  for dealing, about 8 months ago… and is currently dating a woman who is known to actively use.

The thought of his son, now only 2 years old, losing the chance to have a dad involved in his life… the thought of what he will be exposed to as he gets older, and learns what his father is into… the thought of the cliché “history repeats itself,” seemingly so real, in a world where patterns propagate over and over again. The cycles are so heart breaking and painful to watch. Endless shadows of families that could have been, turned to single mother households… endless tales of young girls seeking affirmation from male counterparts leading to unplanned pregnancies.

Take a trip to your nearest low-income neighbourhood and watch. The evidence is overwhelming. But let’s not pretend it only exists in underprivileged communities. Even the wealthy suffer the same epidemic. Our society is laced with brokenness.

If I could write a letter to each man, woman and child.. it would go something like this…

Dear Brother

Before you walk out that door…Know that this attempt to show you’re in control… to show that you are “wearing the pants” …is a blatant display of your weakness. This woman, that you whispered promises of love and gave hope of a future… will be left with yet another wound, which will turn into a scar. Her heart will be broken… her insecurities enhanced. Her sense of worth will diminish as she recalls every conversation and quarrel you every shared… questioning whether any of it was genuine.. or if she just ‘played the fool’. Know that the fierce, rigid attitude with which she guards her pride, will crumble the moment you walk out. Realize that the child or children, who allowed you to creep into their heart(s), gaining acres of trust, respect and love… will lose their sense of safety and security… their world will become increasingly unstable… they will become intimate with abandonment, and flirtatious with the art of escape.  Before you make the choice to leave… ask yourself, how will this impact them? and is your immediate satisfaction worth it?

Dear Sister

We have been down this road before…I understand those words caressed your deepest areas of need… but must it end in the bedroom? Why not stop this time.. and allow him to learn you in every other way but the physical. Rather than have him be your measure of worth.. why don’t you begin to see your own worth? Look in the mirror and see how radiantly beautiful you are… embrace the tenderness of your heart; you were designed to nurture and comfort.  Don’t be ashamed of your emotions… though you are not to be led by them… having them does not make you less sane…less valuable. Before you submit your body… has he made you his wife? Has he honoured and protected you from the selfish desires of his flesh, and yours? Has he taken the time to know you in all your complex simplicities? Does he lead you down the right path? Will he make the choice of loving you, a daily mission?

If you’re a mother, look in your child’s eyes and ask if this he will be father and “daddy” to this precious, impressionable soul? Realize that the power to influence your child (or children)… is being released into his care.. for better or worse.

Dear Child,

I am sorry for every time your sense of security was trampled on…for every moment your parents chose to put their needs and wants above yours. I am sorry they did not create that environment of love, support and wholesome family hood that you needed. I’m sorry they made you feel like you had to earn your significance; fighting for their attention and approval. I am sorry you were guilted into responsibility or were considered too stupid to ever be a mature adult. Recognize that despite their seemingly infinite imperfections… they too are lacking. Choose to forgive them. Choose to love them. Choose to disrupt the pattern of brokenness by responding… by making the right choice. Your story does not have to follow their pattern. Your story can travel along a different path.

If I could write letters to each man, woman and child… I would say,

“Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light”

There is still hope.


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I was persuaded to listen to a tape called “dealing with rejection” and though overall, I thought the speaker made great points, I can not help but disagree with him on one part in particular: it should be easier to explain the gospel to an adopted child, than anyone else. Which in my mind equates to him saying they would be able to understand and receive it (and I could be completely wrong and bias based on side influences).

Though his reasoning seems fair and logical; it is very one-dimensional.

He uses the classic idea of having strangers know what you look like (etc) yet still choose you to be their child; how they were not stuck with you like parents who have a child through natural birth.

But, what of those children who were not chosen because they were wanted? What of those children who were placed as a burden of care to someone else due to unforeseen circumstances? Or the children who were used to manipulate a situation? Should that still be considered a “good” choosing?

What of the children who literally are the bait on the hook, conditioned to get the right fish that would lead to comfortable living? What if it’s a combination of circumstances or completely different?

In my head, I believe my family loves me. But nothing can change the impressions and feelings I grew up with as a child. Even though I was never even told I was “adopted,” as a kid, I beg to say it made the feeling of detachment, not belonging, being a stranger/odd ball… a more enhanced reality. I never spoke of it to my parents… how could I? I would not even know what to say. At most, I probably wrote a water downed version of my feelings to my mom in one of a million letters I wrote to her in attempts to communicate.

Watching your brother get the nice stuff… yet somehow feeling like you must be the responsible one… the one who does not burden the family… watching him get away with so much because he was “being stupid” (immature etc)… while you were just a calculated whatever.

There was no denying to myself that I did not fit. I knew I did not fit somehow… and I could never understand why. Eventually I learned why. Bottom line, my parents did the best they could… they loved me the way they could… they cared for me… they provided for me… and I will always be grateful for that because like the speaker said… we are not entitled to be adopted. But if I were to use my “adoption” analogy to relate to God’s choosing, I would be left utterly handicapped and unsure of a lot more.

Hearing my b. mother tell me that I was taken to keep her within a marriage… true or not… was not in any way going to help my perspective of how things were or are.

So no, I choose to say God’s choosing is UNLIKE any other. Nothing will ever take away the reality that God saved my life. That God saw me and made me worth something more. That He accepted every part of my being, even in my state of lacking any substance, with nothing to offer, depraved, whatever you want to call it… till this day, embraces me as I am.

God’s choosing is not comparable to anything mankind can offer because sad to say, people are selfish. Sometimes I ask myself why He chose me, because I can’t understand it… it does not make any sense to me considering how good He is…but I can tell you a lot of possible reasons as to why others have chosen me.

So I disagree with that earlier statement made by the speaker… because what I have experienced,… just the gift of having my eyes opened to the reality of God… Him constantly pursuing me in the midst of every choice I have made… even in the years of not acknowledging Him… the desire for my well-being… with Him helping me to realize I don’t have to “earn” His love like other people… no expectations… no pressures… no facades… walking through some of the darkest moments of my life with me… when I felt like a complete failure… worthless… aimless…alone… and He still gave me hope… and restored me over and over. No… nothing compares to that.

Adoption into God’s family… being chosen… redeemed…may seem easier to explain to an adopted child… but not necessarily. Sometimes, it makes it a challenge because you don’t even know what truly being accepted looks like. And that is something He has been and continues to work on in me.

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Victim of the “alpha moms”


While I wish I could have written this post, my very first entry on 🙂 , several hours ago… I still consider these thoughts worth re-hashing.

Today, I became a victim of the “alpha moms”. Like many travellers, I was running on fumes… I had been rudely awakened by my alarm at 3:30 am (- went to bed around 1 am or so – ) and knew it was time to finish packing, shower, and fly out the door to drive 2 hours to the orlando international airport.

Though I was relieved to have finally made it to the security checkpoint… I knew things were about to take a turn… tensions were high… people looked absolutely aggravated … and the line… yes I said line…as in 1 line, was at a complete standstill for what seemed to be another 10 to 15 minutes till they broke us up into multiple lines…

In the midst of the crowd, a woman caught my attention because she had a very stern, authoritative look on her face, like she was on a mission. Initially I was not sure if she was the mother of the two girls she was standing in between because they seem so disjointed…but her actions soon made it clear that she was the mother hen of the flock…she stood between her daughters (the youngest being in front)… and with a look of determination, made it clear to the check point man that she had ALL the necessary documentation for her babies to go through with her… with a slight smirk on her face as she handed him more paper work before he could even ask. Eventually the elderly checkpoint man called attention to the husband? Wow, you would have never guessed he was part of the family until that very moment.

Then this younger attractive man took over and proceeded to ask that same family if they had been checked, once she gave the nod, he turned to me…

Now here is where things got interesting. You would think that me being right next to that family would mean that I was somehow going to be distributed into one of the split of lines after them… but no… I was bulldozed out of my position by what I will now term the alpha mom.

The alpha mom is that woman who feels entitled to hold a certain domineering heir about her all in the name of “protecting her child and keeping her family together”… if married, like the one today was, she is that woman who decides to cut in front of you, and then proceeds to beckon her daughter to come stand next to her… basically giving her permission to do exactly what she did now that she secured a position… and then as if to save face, her naturally passive husband plunges forward to state that he is the head of the household.

My initial reaction was… you can fill in the gaps… but then I told myself, I know I am meant to prefer others over myself so this should not matter… but it just did not seem right… I watched it happen more than once and thought to myself… what is this really about…

Despite the fact that I myself am pretty…dominant as a person… somehow I ended up about another 15 minutes behind the family I was initially next to… meaning while they had been long gone… I was STILL waiting to have my bags scanned etc…

I know I have changed because a few years ago, I certainly would have reclaimed my rightful place with a look of indignation and pride written all over my face, feeling absolutely justified… and if necessary, would have gladly made a few comments … but today, I allowed myself to be the trampled on… and I can sincerely say, it did not feel good… BUT there was peace in that.