Hi, my name is Diane and I have an anxiety disorder. At least, that's what my doctor calls it and maybe it's temporary. Why does that matter anyway, though. It doesn't make me any less of a person. It sure does mess with my image, though. I find it very difficult not to wear the shame of this sickness. There's so much stigma attached to this disease that it's hard to see it as a sickness and not a failure.
I first started to experience the panic attacks after I had been going to counseling for several months. I know that opening up wounds from the past can sometimes trigger this response. I started on a medication because my counselor encouraged me to. It really did help me to clear my head enough to work through some hard issues and learn the triggers to my anxiety. One of my struggles was wondering if I didn't have enough faith in God to help me through this struggle. Did I really need to take a drug? But I truly respect my counselor and Dr., so I took their advice.
About two weeks ago my whole scalp and face started tingling almost constantly. I of course reverted to my old struggle of a closet hypochondriac and started to self-diagnose. It didn't look good from my point of view. But, of course, I'm a closet hypochondriac martyr, which means I don't go to the Dr. or tell anyone, I just "suffer" through my symptoms quietly. Yes, there you have a small glimpse into my psyche.
So, I did call my Dr. because the tingling went on for days. I did actually have a good reason too because I had bumped my head really hard a day before the tingling started. I know from Web M.D. that not all concussions knock you out, so I wanted to rule out that possibility. Well, in meeting with my Dr. she had no questions about my possible concussion, apparently not a worry. But she went straight to talking about my medication. She pointed out that I wasn't taking enough coupled with a very busy and somewhat burdensome previous 3-4 months.
Like most diseases, this one is very debilitating. I feel both exhausted and ashamed. It's a very humbling sickness. Suffering through it makes me wonder, is it because of some sin? Am I ever going to get over this? Does it ruin my reputation? Then I want to explain myself away to make myself acceptable. I want to justify somehow.
This Sunday during service I just felt the Lord saying, "let go." I've been reading in Romans 12 about offering myself as a living sacrifice, acceptable and pleasing to God. Later on in Chapter 13 Paul exhorts the Romans to "clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the sinful nature." The desire of my sinful nature in this case is to beat myself up, put on my cloak of shame and my mask covering up what's really going on inside. But Paul is telling us to offer ourselves as we are, this is our spiritual act of worship. God has already assured me of my belonging with Him. So I want to shed this coat of shame and clothe myself with Christ. Surely God wants to help me do this so that He will be glorified.
No matter if I struggle with this all my life, I am accepted as I am. Because of this acceptance I can "be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer." Praise the Lord that my acceptance does not depend on me! Praise the Lord that I get to offer myself to God as I am and I don't have to have it all together to do so. This is pure freedom!
Monday, May 11, 2009
Pedestal
For my whole life I've been on a pedestal of sorts. I'm a missionary kid, so there's one. Among the missionary kids I was always the "good girl," I never rebelled, so there's another. Now, I've married into the ministry, there's yet another.
What do I mean by pedestal? It simply means that people look up to me and think I have it all together, so that I have no room to mess up. I feel expectations and therefore put expectations on myself. One expectation I felt as an M.K. was that I was supposed to become a missionary. So many people were disappointed in me when, at a young age, I told them that I felt God calling me to live in the inner city. I fell off their pedestal, thankfully. In college some of my acquaintances didn't even know that I was a M.K. for my first year, I never advertised it. I hated being on that pedestal. I just wanted to be treated normal.
When Marshall and I first moved into our current neighborhood we got a lot of pats on the back from people in our church. We felt like the poster children of Glenwood. Not many people knew what a struggle it was for us. We didn't have a clue what we were doing and we felt very much alone. There was a very dark period for me when I could have skipped church altogether because my heart was NOT seeking the Lord or wanting anything to do with ministry. But, I still got pats on the back and would smile like everything was okay.
Now that Marshall is the director of outreach (or as some of the ladies from the women's shelter call him, "THE pastor") I feel the same type of "pedestal" pressure. Many times I put myself there, holding a standard for myself as a "pastor's wife." It's so bogus and damaging. We can't put people or ourselves on pedestals. Basically what we're doing is putting our hope in them. Any hope or faith not put into Christ is an idol.
Sure we can have role models, but we have to be careful not to assume that they have it all together. Instead, we need to pray for those that we might consider putting on a pedestal. We need to recognize that they will fail because they are human. We need to remember that anything good that comes from a person is from Christ. Seriously, if you have doubts that someone in ministry struggles, read more of my blog. I try to be very open about my struggles because I don't want to put myself or have someone put me on a pedestal any longer. Like my pastor says, "the ground at the foot of the cross is level." This means that we are all loved and forgiven the same, nothing we do or don't do changes this. The only person who should be on a pedestal is Christ, Himself. So, knock 'em down, friends! The pedestals, I mean.
What do I mean by pedestal? It simply means that people look up to me and think I have it all together, so that I have no room to mess up. I feel expectations and therefore put expectations on myself. One expectation I felt as an M.K. was that I was supposed to become a missionary. So many people were disappointed in me when, at a young age, I told them that I felt God calling me to live in the inner city. I fell off their pedestal, thankfully. In college some of my acquaintances didn't even know that I was a M.K. for my first year, I never advertised it. I hated being on that pedestal. I just wanted to be treated normal.
When Marshall and I first moved into our current neighborhood we got a lot of pats on the back from people in our church. We felt like the poster children of Glenwood. Not many people knew what a struggle it was for us. We didn't have a clue what we were doing and we felt very much alone. There was a very dark period for me when I could have skipped church altogether because my heart was NOT seeking the Lord or wanting anything to do with ministry. But, I still got pats on the back and would smile like everything was okay.
Now that Marshall is the director of outreach (or as some of the ladies from the women's shelter call him, "THE pastor") I feel the same type of "pedestal" pressure. Many times I put myself there, holding a standard for myself as a "pastor's wife." It's so bogus and damaging. We can't put people or ourselves on pedestals. Basically what we're doing is putting our hope in them. Any hope or faith not put into Christ is an idol.
Sure we can have role models, but we have to be careful not to assume that they have it all together. Instead, we need to pray for those that we might consider putting on a pedestal. We need to recognize that they will fail because they are human. We need to remember that anything good that comes from a person is from Christ. Seriously, if you have doubts that someone in ministry struggles, read more of my blog. I try to be very open about my struggles because I don't want to put myself or have someone put me on a pedestal any longer. Like my pastor says, "the ground at the foot of the cross is level." This means that we are all loved and forgiven the same, nothing we do or don't do changes this. The only person who should be on a pedestal is Christ, Himself. So, knock 'em down, friends! The pedestals, I mean.
Friday, April 24, 2009
The World According to My Kids
Jacob screams when he wakes up every morning, "MOMEEE!!" This week I went in groggily and told him to hush, he didn't need to scream and he said, "Okay, sorry mommy." He proceeded to tell me he was screaming because his animals fell out of his bed, which meant he threw them out. I asked him as I do every morning, "Jacob, why do you have to scream?" This particular morning he said, "Mmmm, pee-cause (because) I miss mommy, long time." Of course my heart melted, even if it was before 7:00 AM.
At the dinner table this week, I was asking Psalter to tell her Daddy about the special visitor she had at pre-school that day. She said, "A fighter-fighter (a.k.a. fire fighter) clown named Flame came to talk about how to be safe around fires." So I probed with a question, "So what did you learn to do in a fire?" Psalter says, "Dial 9-9-1 and jump out the window." Oh, and she said the clown had a dog with him named Emporer (a.k.a. Ember). :)
Eliza was drawing a picture of a group of people with flames above their heads (the Pentecost that she learned about in Sun. School). She said to me, "I remember when we made flames in Chapel Hill out of tissue paper." And no, she was not referring to the craziness on Franklin Street after the Tar Heels won the NCAA tournament. That what she calls the chapel time during pre-school.
I've been using a lot of re-direction with Jacob when he starts a tantrum. For example, when I see there will be resistance to something I talk in my excited voice about something totally random to what we're doing. It usually helps him to snap out of his tantrum mode. So, this week he re-directed himself. I called him into his room to put him down for the night. He laid down on the floor saying, "don't want to..." I said his name sternly, "Jacob..." He got up on his hands and knees and started crawling, grumbling on the way. Then, out of the blue he started to growl as he crawled and said, "RRrrr I dinosaur! RRrrr!"
Psalter's rendition of the dog named "BINGO" song. "There was a farmer had a dog and Bingo was his name-o. E-I-N-G-O, E-I-N-G-O, E-I-N-G-O and Bingo was his name-o." It didn't matter that I tried to correct her.
Jacob's rendition of "Jesus loves me": "Jee-za loaves me, say no. For da BIble tell me so. Tittle one(t) Him be-yong, day are reghfjdfr is STRONG! Yes, Jee-za loaves meeee, Yes, Jee-za loaves meee....
At the dinner table this week, I was asking Psalter to tell her Daddy about the special visitor she had at pre-school that day. She said, "A fighter-fighter (a.k.a. fire fighter) clown named Flame came to talk about how to be safe around fires." So I probed with a question, "So what did you learn to do in a fire?" Psalter says, "Dial 9-9-1 and jump out the window." Oh, and she said the clown had a dog with him named Emporer (a.k.a. Ember). :)
Eliza was drawing a picture of a group of people with flames above their heads (the Pentecost that she learned about in Sun. School). She said to me, "I remember when we made flames in Chapel Hill out of tissue paper." And no, she was not referring to the craziness on Franklin Street after the Tar Heels won the NCAA tournament. That what she calls the chapel time during pre-school.
I've been using a lot of re-direction with Jacob when he starts a tantrum. For example, when I see there will be resistance to something I talk in my excited voice about something totally random to what we're doing. It usually helps him to snap out of his tantrum mode. So, this week he re-directed himself. I called him into his room to put him down for the night. He laid down on the floor saying, "don't want to..." I said his name sternly, "Jacob..." He got up on his hands and knees and started crawling, grumbling on the way. Then, out of the blue he started to growl as he crawled and said, "RRrrr I dinosaur! RRrrr!"
Psalter's rendition of the dog named "BINGO" song. "There was a farmer had a dog and Bingo was his name-o. E-I-N-G-O, E-I-N-G-O, E-I-N-G-O and Bingo was his name-o." It didn't matter that I tried to correct her.
Jacob's rendition of "Jesus loves me": "Jee-za loaves me, say no. For da BIble tell me so. Tittle one(t) Him be-yong, day are reghfjdfr is STRONG! Yes, Jee-za loaves meeee, Yes, Jee-za loaves meee....
Monday, April 20, 2009
Get Out of that Pit!
This is the title of a Beth Moore book that caught my attention as it sat on my mom's book shelf this past week. It's now in my house, sorry mom. I read the first chapter on the way home and it struck me in a needy place. I've been struggling over the past few weeks just feeling stuck in loneliness and despair. I feel too tired to fight it and on top of that I feel shame for struggling, so I've told no one. So, welcome to the story of my pit!
In her book, Beth uses Psalm 40 as her platform: "I waited patiently for the LORD; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand...." I know God has delivered me from my pit. But, is it possible to slip back into it? I know the enemy does not want me to live in freedom because then more people would see the truth of God's love and be set free. But then, on the other hand, God is more powerful than the evil one, so all glory goes to Him, sooo why the struggle?
Is it a lack of faith that keeps me stumbling back into the pit so easily? Last night, I was reading in a book by Rob Bell called "Velvet Elvis." He had a very interesting perspective on faith. "when it comes to faith, everybody has it...everybody is following somebody...an atheist is a person of tremendous faith. In our discussions about the things that matter most then, we aren't talking about faith or not faith. Belief or no belief. We are talking about faith in what? Belief in what? The real question isn't whether we have it or not, but what we have put it in." So there, I Do have faith, but I am not choosing to put my faith in God. I'm putting it into myself, other people, or circumstances to change. So when I'm feeling despair over someone's life, my faith is in them to change or for me to fix them. Both of these acts of faith produce hopelessness and failure. Only God can transform.
Why is it that I know Christ is my solid rock, the only person that has never changed how much he loves me and yet I choose to put my faith in the mud and mire that I get stuck in? Rob's perspective on faith really helped me to see that I need to wake up! Stop putting my faith in the things that drag me down and put my faith on the One who sets my feet on the rock. This old hymn keeps running through my head, "My faith is built on nothing less than Jesus' love and righteousness." Lord make this my cry! The little mustard seed of faith that I have in You, take it and multiply. I know you did not promise life would be easy, but you did promise to be faithful and to set my feet on solid ground. Only in this should I put my faith! Can you imagine, if we could channel all the faith that we have in ourselves, other people, our country, our families to faith in Christ---WOW, we would be a different people.
In her book, Beth uses Psalm 40 as her platform: "I waited patiently for the LORD; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand...." I know God has delivered me from my pit. But, is it possible to slip back into it? I know the enemy does not want me to live in freedom because then more people would see the truth of God's love and be set free. But then, on the other hand, God is more powerful than the evil one, so all glory goes to Him, sooo why the struggle?
Is it a lack of faith that keeps me stumbling back into the pit so easily? Last night, I was reading in a book by Rob Bell called "Velvet Elvis." He had a very interesting perspective on faith. "when it comes to faith, everybody has it...everybody is following somebody...an atheist is a person of tremendous faith. In our discussions about the things that matter most then, we aren't talking about faith or not faith. Belief or no belief. We are talking about faith in what? Belief in what? The real question isn't whether we have it or not, but what we have put it in." So there, I Do have faith, but I am not choosing to put my faith in God. I'm putting it into myself, other people, or circumstances to change. So when I'm feeling despair over someone's life, my faith is in them to change or for me to fix them. Both of these acts of faith produce hopelessness and failure. Only God can transform.
Why is it that I know Christ is my solid rock, the only person that has never changed how much he loves me and yet I choose to put my faith in the mud and mire that I get stuck in? Rob's perspective on faith really helped me to see that I need to wake up! Stop putting my faith in the things that drag me down and put my faith on the One who sets my feet on the rock. This old hymn keeps running through my head, "My faith is built on nothing less than Jesus' love and righteousness." Lord make this my cry! The little mustard seed of faith that I have in You, take it and multiply. I know you did not promise life would be easy, but you did promise to be faithful and to set my feet on solid ground. Only in this should I put my faith! Can you imagine, if we could channel all the faith that we have in ourselves, other people, our country, our families to faith in Christ---WOW, we would be a different people.
Monday, April 6, 2009
"Morning Frog"
One of my friend's little girl calls fog, "frog." It makes so much sense to me, when I think about my morning self. I am NOT a morning person. I'm not really a night person either, or an afternoon person. I just like to sleep and cannot seem to get enough, ever.
I don't set my alarm in the morning. Jacob is our alarm. He hollers when he wakes up. There's no snuggling in the bed until he goes back to sleep. So this is how I wake up every morning. I hear hollering somewhere far away. Then I hear footsteps (more like elephant stomps) down the hallway as the girls wake up to Jacob's hollers. They feel the need to come and tell me that he's awake. Now, I may not always be mean and snappy, but I sure am non-responsive, irritable and "croaky." My poor children know a different person from wake-up time until about 9:00, at the earliest. I sort of croak out, "what do you want for breakfast?" Usually Eliza cannot understand me and so I have to repeat myself over and over, which ends up coming out harshly.
I do pray sometimes before my feet hit the floor. I ask the Lord to give me strength to love my children this early in the morning. But somehow from the bedroom to the kitchen my resentment comes alive. I don't want to be bothered. I want to get up when I want to get up. I'm not rested enough and it's my right to get what I think is enough sleep. So leave me alone and stop bugging me. Why can't you get your own breakfast? This is what's going on in my head and unfortunately in my heart. Then I get a sweet hug and kiss and "morning, mommy." Jacob says, "Hi, mommy, mommeeee!" I'm able to muster a hug and kiss back, but that's about all I can give.
So what needs to change? I know some would say, "go to bed earlier." Although that's great advice, I feel the same whether I get 6 hours or 9 hours. It's something of my flesh that needs to die, but I find it so hard to battle the flesh in the morning. I try to yield to the Holy Spirit, but that takes my effort, which is hard for me to muster up. So, to those of you who also suffer from "morning froggyness", I remember Jesus words, "if anyone should come after me, she must deny herself daily (or first thing in the morning), then take up her cross (first thing in the morning) and follow me! Denying myself in the morning would mean, give up my rights to what I want to do, which is sleep. It means to put the needs of my children before my own. It means responding to them in love. I can only do this by "taking up my cross" which is to remember that "I have been crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me." After I have made the effort to deny my "rights" and to remember that Christ is doing this through me, then I can react "in Christ." Only then can I love my children and care for them through my "morning frog." I pray that we can do this together.
I don't set my alarm in the morning. Jacob is our alarm. He hollers when he wakes up. There's no snuggling in the bed until he goes back to sleep. So this is how I wake up every morning. I hear hollering somewhere far away. Then I hear footsteps (more like elephant stomps) down the hallway as the girls wake up to Jacob's hollers. They feel the need to come and tell me that he's awake. Now, I may not always be mean and snappy, but I sure am non-responsive, irritable and "croaky." My poor children know a different person from wake-up time until about 9:00, at the earliest. I sort of croak out, "what do you want for breakfast?" Usually Eliza cannot understand me and so I have to repeat myself over and over, which ends up coming out harshly.
I do pray sometimes before my feet hit the floor. I ask the Lord to give me strength to love my children this early in the morning. But somehow from the bedroom to the kitchen my resentment comes alive. I don't want to be bothered. I want to get up when I want to get up. I'm not rested enough and it's my right to get what I think is enough sleep. So leave me alone and stop bugging me. Why can't you get your own breakfast? This is what's going on in my head and unfortunately in my heart. Then I get a sweet hug and kiss and "morning, mommy." Jacob says, "Hi, mommy, mommeeee!" I'm able to muster a hug and kiss back, but that's about all I can give.
So what needs to change? I know some would say, "go to bed earlier." Although that's great advice, I feel the same whether I get 6 hours or 9 hours. It's something of my flesh that needs to die, but I find it so hard to battle the flesh in the morning. I try to yield to the Holy Spirit, but that takes my effort, which is hard for me to muster up. So, to those of you who also suffer from "morning froggyness", I remember Jesus words, "if anyone should come after me, she must deny herself daily (or first thing in the morning), then take up her cross (first thing in the morning) and follow me! Denying myself in the morning would mean, give up my rights to what I want to do, which is sleep. It means to put the needs of my children before my own. It means responding to them in love. I can only do this by "taking up my cross" which is to remember that "I have been crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me." After I have made the effort to deny my "rights" and to remember that Christ is doing this through me, then I can react "in Christ." Only then can I love my children and care for them through my "morning frog." I pray that we can do this together.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
So long, old "friend"
She's always been there for me. I've known her for years. She's been there to comfort me whenever I was confused, lonely or messed up. She sat with me for hours and gave me guidance whenever I didn't know what to do next. She's been my "go-to" friend for so many years, an old faithful.
About two years ago I realized that our relationship was actually not healthy for me. In fact, I saw how harmful it was. It was a co-dependent relationship. Even though I "felt" like I was in control when I went to her with my problems, I realized that she was controlling me. She was giving me false guidance and keeping me from living a confident life in the spirit. I saw her for who she really was, her name is FEAR.
We'd been "friends" for so long that I felt more comfortable with her than I did with the TRUTH. She is also called Worry or Anxiety. When the Lord showed me how much control I had given her, He's been helping me restore my mind. It's been a minute by minute battle some days... Just choosing to believe the Truth of the gospel, rather than what I feel.
It's been hard to say good-bye to Fear, especially when life feels overwhelming. She's tried very hard to regain the ground God has redeemed and now controls. But I remind her that she is my "flesh" which has been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer my flesh who lives, but Christ who lives in me. An the life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loves me and died to give Himself up for me. So, I'm going with Him. Yeah, I may be yielding control to Him, but he brings life and freedom, while Fear brings only death!
About two years ago I realized that our relationship was actually not healthy for me. In fact, I saw how harmful it was. It was a co-dependent relationship. Even though I "felt" like I was in control when I went to her with my problems, I realized that she was controlling me. She was giving me false guidance and keeping me from living a confident life in the spirit. I saw her for who she really was, her name is FEAR.
We'd been "friends" for so long that I felt more comfortable with her than I did with the TRUTH. She is also called Worry or Anxiety. When the Lord showed me how much control I had given her, He's been helping me restore my mind. It's been a minute by minute battle some days... Just choosing to believe the Truth of the gospel, rather than what I feel.
It's been hard to say good-bye to Fear, especially when life feels overwhelming. She's tried very hard to regain the ground God has redeemed and now controls. But I remind her that she is my "flesh" which has been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer my flesh who lives, but Christ who lives in me. An the life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loves me and died to give Himself up for me. So, I'm going with Him. Yeah, I may be yielding control to Him, but he brings life and freedom, while Fear brings only death!
Monday, March 9, 2009
Ma Patrie....a poem by a fellow MK (Missionary Kid)
Ma Patrie
I dreamt one night
And found myself
In my father’s land
The harmattan winds blew
And red dust
Caked my skin
I looked out on a farmer’s field
And there I found my heart
Planted deep within the soil
Once and for all
I need it back
So I bent to pull it out
The roots were strong
And grew so deep
How could this be?
Nothing grows in this harsh land
But there it was
my stubborn heart
So I began to dig
One by one I found each root
And traced them through the ground
Each one led me towards
a different source
Each root so unique
from the others
Some weak,
Some long,
Some shallow,
Finally I found one…
strong and deep
I dug and dug for hours
The harsh sun burned within my soul
I lay there weak and parched
One last tug and there it was
The path that led me
To your heart
And grew in
Africa
-Dee Kennedy
I couldn't have said it better than this. My childhood friend, Dee really captured me with this poem. My heart is still there, and Africa remains deeply rooted in me. I try and try to make sense of it all, but it doesn't and maybe that's a gift. My home, my Africa.
I dreamt one night
And found myself
In my father’s land
The harmattan winds blew
And red dust
Caked my skin
I looked out on a farmer’s field
And there I found my heart
Planted deep within the soil
Once and for all
I need it back
So I bent to pull it out
The roots were strong
And grew so deep
How could this be?
Nothing grows in this harsh land
But there it was
my stubborn heart
So I began to dig
One by one I found each root
And traced them through the ground
Each one led me towards
a different source
Each root so unique
from the others
Some weak,
Some long,
Some shallow,
Finally I found one…
strong and deep
I dug and dug for hours
The harsh sun burned within my soul
I lay there weak and parched
One last tug and there it was
The path that led me
To your heart
And grew in
Africa
-Dee Kennedy
I couldn't have said it better than this. My childhood friend, Dee really captured me with this poem. My heart is still there, and Africa remains deeply rooted in me. I try and try to make sense of it all, but it doesn't and maybe that's a gift. My home, my Africa.
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