:: leaving home

To follow is the letter I sent (on behalf of Greg and our whole family) to 14 members of the Eastlake Community Church staff on March 25th. 

I share this now for two reasons: 

1. It's something that I have most assuredly spent lots of time crying over since then. 

2. My history with and love for the church is important to state, I think, given some things I need to share in the future. 

Xoxo.

Dearest (14 individual names were listed here),

On Mother's Day 2009, I was a devastated, newly single Mama of two, new to the area and desperate for connection. Going through a divorce, I was hurting and oh so vulnerable, and terrified to attend a new church alone. But I felt the calling to check Eastlake out, and I remember the first time I stepped in the doors, my heart breathed a sigh of relief.

I was home.

From my second time there, a message about committing to the church and not dating it, I’ve been all in. I’ve gone through lots of seasons, ebbs and flows of how plugged in I was, but I’ve always been for Eastlake.

The people at Eastlake have been the hands of God in my life so many times throughout the past few years. God used Eastlake to make my kids feel loved when their father abandoned them. God used Eastlake to make me feel valuable and worthy and protected and cared for when I was alone. I had an amazing community of Single Mamas because of Eastlake. Through an Eastlake growth group is how I met my incredible husband. And when we had a baby girl who died briefly, our Eastlake community surrounded us in amazing ways.

For the better part of the last decade, Eastlake has been our home. It’s where we found and followed Jesus – like the slogan used to be, and learned a new way to follow Him. It’s where we learned how to love people like Jesus does, rather than acting out of fear of eternal damnation. It’s where my heart’s cry was projected onto the screen during worship and I could sing and cry and feel God oh so close to me. It’s where I learned how to make my faith in God my own again.

For all of these things, I am eternally grateful.

Over the past year or so, there’s been a nagging sense deep in my gut that something was…off. I’ve ignored it for a long time, out of fear, out of a need to stay where I was. Over the past few months, I’ve experienced more confusion than I can remember as I’ve sought to unpack and uncover and unlearn everything I ever knew to be true.

This has been a painful and terrifying process, to say the least. But for the first time in my life, I have actively engaged in conversations with people who disagreed with me, rather than running away. I have had hard conversations with people strongly opposed to my new ways of thinking, and have done so in a kind and respectful manner. I have read and thought and talked and cried and struggled.

And I realized…it’s been a while since I truly prayed. It’s been a while since I truly spent time with Jesus.

So I started praying. Praying for wisdom, for clarification, for answers.

Ryan, you told me recently, “Trust your heart. Your inner goodness already knows what is beautiful, right and true.”

I believe you. And so with deep sadness, I have to tell you, I can no longer work out my faith journey at Eastlake.

As Greg and I have talked and prayed and studied together, it’s become more and more clear that we are no longer in the right place for the path we’d like to be on. Jesus is being phased out of Eastlake. Oh, He’s being emulated and that, we love and admire and long to participate in. But He’s also being demoted to little more than a great, mystic teacher, and that is where we need to stop, turn around, and find the path again that our hearts are meant to be on.

Our family has been shown nothing but love by each of you over the years, and we love each of you so much in return. At one point or another, we’ve shared important seasons of life with some of you. We are absolutely crushed to be leaving our church home. Eastlake has ruined us for any other churches and while we trust the Lord will lead us to our next right place, we will be grieving deeply for a long damn time.

You know I’m crying while I write this.

Thank you for all you’ve poured into our family through your work at Eastlake. We will keep you in our prayers, sweet friends, and we will miss you.

Xoxo.

Jaime, Greg, Jasper, Teiley and Quinleigh

:: oliver

I have a second son.  His name is Oliver. He's the bookend baby boy to my beautiful collection of children, and I've been praying for and about him since 2008.

And I'm still waiting to meet him.

My first son Jasper made parenting too easy on me.  Sometimes I think it would've been better to have one of my girls first.  They've been far more challenging, and after the initial 5 years of parenting the world's easiest kid and thinking I was an awesome Mama, it's been very humbling to be knocked down by them time and time again. Girls have always been harder for me.  It was astounding to see from the get-go how different they are from boys, (or at least from my boy), and how from day one the level of emotions is night and day different. Don't get me wrong...I adore my girls and I love the way we're bonding, and I love the relationships we're growing. 

But it's different with boys. I've always wanted another one.  Possibly because my relationship with my son has been so special to me over the past 15 years. That desire was only made stronger when I married Greg, especially because after Greg, there are no other males to carry on his family's last name. And his is a family that deserves to be carried into future generations. 

We've talked about Oliver often enough that the kids actually ask about him.  When he's coming, when we're making him, IF we're gonna go make him when Greg and I tell the kids we need some alone time.  Ha.  It's weird, honestly, but also sweet. I wonder often what he'll be like. Quiet and sensitive like his older brother? Or will he be the proverbial hellion who brings bugs home in his pockets and shoves food in our electronics? Will he give me constant heart attacks (like his sis Quinleigh) with his daredevilish ways? Will he want to work on cars with Daddy? Play drums with brother? Be artsy like sis Teiley?

Every month, when it's clear again that I'm not pregnant, I cry.

I've always gotten pregnant pretty easily.  I mean, I only have 3 kids, but they all happened during the "one time" protection wasn't used. They were all happy accidents. So the fact that we've not been preventing Oliver's conception for almost 2 years now and still have no baby is starting to feel pretty dismal to me. Two years is a long time to try and wait. That's 24 times of being heartbroken and disappointed. 

I'll be 40 in less than a year. This makes it seem even more impossible, I know women have babies in their 40's. I also know this just sounds scary as heck to me. Babies are hard and exhausting and I'm almost finally getting decent sleep at night now. So the thought of starting all over is overwhelming.

Plus, the whole traumatic experience we had with our 3 year old at her birth* is still fresh in our mind, when the topic of a new baby comes up. (And then the topic of HOW to birth that baby is a whole new topic. All my babes have been born at home because it's where I'm most comfortable. Q rocked my world sideways when she forced us into our longest hospital stay ever. So there's always the question: home birth? hospital birth? Gah.)

So...this is just me rambling. Sharing my pain on a topic I don't tell many people about. I know it's not the saddest story, and perhaps I should just "be grateful" for the amazing kids I do have.  I am grateful. But that doesn't stop the ache I feel when I see Mama's walking around with their sweet pregnant bellies. It doesn't stop my body from literally feeling like my milk is dropping sometimes. (And that is super weird, lemmee tell ya.) It doesn't take away the feeling in my gut that someone is still missing. That I'm not done yet. I just can't shake it.

Anyway. Mama's waiting for you, Oliver.

Xoxo.

*the short version of this is Quinleigh died in our bedroom when she was about 16 hours old. You can read her story as it happened on her Facebook page, Prayers for Quinleigh.

:: the high road can suck it

I sure as hell wish taking the high road felt a lot better than it usually does. 

As I mentioned in a previous post, I've been in a lot of pain the last week or so. Decades-old wounds have oozed to my surface, triggered by pain my two oldest children are experiencing. It's bad enough to watch my kids suffer, but when that suffering is partially the result of mistakes I made over a decade ago (plus the current actions of someone I cannot control), as well as a repeat of my own childhood, well...torture. It's just torture. 

I've written a lot this past week. I've written letters to some of the humans who've hurt me, letters to humans who I feel owe me an apology or an explanation or some action or something. Letters I won't share with those humans. It's helped ease the hurt a bit but I can tell you...I just wanna make all those enraged words of mine public to make myself feel better. I wanna smear their names publicly and make them feel as shitty as I do. 

It's astounding to me, how strong the urge is to hurt someone else when I'm hurting. It's scary, actually. I picture my insides as a seething savage animal, cornered, foam spewing from my bared fangs, swiping my bloodied claws this way and that, hoping to slice through anything that gets too close. The urge to lunge for the throats especially of those who've caused me this pain is overwhelming. In these times, I've learned to retreat into myself to avoid causing damage outside of me, but you can imagine the mess I make internally. It's not pretty.  

I'm really grateful that over time I've built a strong support system of wise counselors around me, because times like this, when I'm weak and vulnerable and in no way thinking wisely, I need them. 

Mind you, I don't usually like what they have to say when I'm feeling this out of control. In fact, sometimes their wise, calm words piss me right off. When I feel this way, reading verses like "The Lord will fight for you. You need only to be still." (Exodus 14:14) make me wanna punch things. But in my gut I know their words are true. I know the aftermath of the maiming spree I envision would only add to my pain. I know it's not the right way. It's why I've also promised myself I won't ever post something I've written without sleeping on it *and* running it by at least 2 of those aforementioned wise people. 

I have some good practices in place (waiting to post, running things by good friends, praying for those who've hurt me), but times like these, I desperately wish I had some healthy yet instantly-gratifying coping skills. I'm 39, and I still don't. I write, which I guess is ok, but I also eat. It's why I have 100lbs to lose. It's why if I didn't enjoy food so much, I'd likely be an alcoholic or have a crack problem. It's why I binge watch dumb TV sometimes. Those things instantly numb the pain, for a bit. Until they don't. 

Pretty sure I need to get a punching bag for my garage. I think that's something that would satisfy me in my moments of anguish. And give me a workout! I could picture the faces of those who have hurt me, go to town on em with my fists and feet, and they'd never have to know.  

Do you have this hard a time taking the high road? I'm not alone here, am I? And parenting makes this that much tougher. I try to teach my kids - with words and deeds - to treat others how they want to be treated, regardless of how the other person behaves. But wow. It's so damn hard. In our instant-gratification world, it's tougher than ever before to make the wise choices and not cause more damage, especially when social media offers us instant access to sharing our pain and allowing "friends" to make us feel better. Ultimately, doing so just continues the vicious cycle of pain. Even if this seems like what we want in the moment, it solves nothing long term, and just causes more problems. Listen, I'm typing this as a reminder to myself as much as for anyone else. But I'm curious...what kind of safeguards do you have in place to keep your negative reactions in check?

Also, you'll be happy to know I'm starting counseling up again soon. It's been a while. 

 *sigh*

:: the things i don't say

Last week I declared that I'd post twice a week on my blog.

This week I posted...none.  Well, one, counting this, now. 

Oh, I've written plenty this week. Lengthy, gut-wrenching posts that'll likely never see publishing. It's been a rough week, emotionally. So I've written from that place.

Last night I wrote while I was angry and hurting. I wanted to publish it, to make it public and share it with everyone. But like I mentioned in my first post, fear crept in. Or maybe wisdom? Truth be told, I can't always tell the difference.

I spent a lot of time being hurt and angry this past week. Hurt by the actions of people who don't seem to know or care that my life is affected by theirs. Angry that they can still hurt me. Angry at the people who told me to "get over it", supposedly out of kindess, and angry at those who suggested that when I'm feeling this way, it's because I'm choosing to.

I suppose in a way, that's not entirely wrong. So help me, though, I have yet to figure out how to just choose to feel something other than what I'm feeling. But the way I see it, feelings are important. Emotions are important. They are the language the heart speaks, and while the heart can be fickle, that doesn't mean what it has to say should be ignored. Finding the balance between the language of both my heart and head has been a battle I've waged for well over 20 years, ever since I became aware of the fact that my heart will just always speak louder to me than my head will. I've learned a lot about responding versus reacting over the years, about the value of taking a pause before I speak, but at the end of the day, I will always choose to listen to my heart.

What this looks like for me is that I don't ignore the feelings when they come. (I mean, sometimes I do. And that almost always looks like binge watching Netflix.) Some people call that choosing to be miserable. Some people claim that crying never solved anything. Well, for me that just isn't true. Honestly, I often see positivity as just burying your head in the sand. And my house is never as clean as when I'm truly pissed off and in tears about it. Allowing myself to feel the pain, feel the anger (which is usually just masking the pain) helps me to sort out what's going on so I can figure out the root cause. I'm not interested in masking the problem. I'm not interested in taking a pill to dull my emotions. I'm interested in finding the actual issue and making it right. What this also looks like for me is that I feel the unpleasant emotions often, I spend a lot of time in the dark, twisty places. It takes a long damn while to really sort out what's going on, especially without a degree in counseling, but it's worth it to me to learn from my pain, learn from my mistakes, and move forward stronger.

One thing I'm struggling with a lot lately is how to balance this deep need I have to assert myself in ways I've never done, with the fact that I also don't want to hurt people. The truths I have in my heart aren't all pretty. Like everyone else, I've been hurt deeply by people I love, and I've hurt them deeply as well. But for the sake of keeping the peace, I've spent most of my life biting my tongue and saying "It's ok" when really, it's not. Doing that for 30+ years has created a deep pit of dark emotions that have been truly crying out for my attention in the past couple of years. My need to keep the peace has in fact created a great lack of peace in my own heart. And I've been watching a lot of Netflix. 

Tonight, I'm less angry. I think it's wise to hold my tongue when I'm angry. Nothing I've ever said out of anger had the result I'd hoped it would, anyway. (Except for the times I just really wanted to hurt someone.) But recently I've practiced setting boundaries when my temper had cooled, and whether or not the recipient agreed with me or understood my need for the boundaries, doing so made me feel strong and cared for...even if only by myself. I think it's probably important that I start caring for myself in that way more. I've spent a lot of time caring for others, and caring what others think. I want to continue to do the first thing, and do it more often, but I want to care less about what others think of me.

So for now, what I wrote last night will go unread, except by the few trusted souls I shared it with. Tonight, I will fall asleep knowing I still have time to sort out my pain, time to find the wisest, most loving way to communicate that pain to whomever truly needs to hear it. 

Tonight I will feel strong in my choice to stay silent.

Found this while searching for a pretty picture. It seemed to fit nicely, and affirm my choice to stay quiet a bit longer.

Dammit. It's officially next week. Guess I didn't post at all last week.

Oh, well.

Xoxo.

:: missing bcs

One thing I love about writing is that it can be such a gift, even years later. Currently I'm dealing with some painful and frustrating things in my personal life, which is why I'm even digging into my past right now. So to run across this email that I sent in 2012, to literally everyone who worked at Bellevue Christian School at the time, was a beautiful reminder for me this morning of how God has come through in my life time after time after time. I may not always feel His presence or see His hand, but I know he's there.  

I also really miss my BCS community.  It's hard feeling as isolated as I do, staying home with two kiddos now.  Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to be in the position of being able to stay home with my girls.  It's been a huge blessing to my kids and my family as a whole, and even on the hard days, and even with all the sacrifices we make financially for me to stay home, it's felt like I'm doing the right thing. But I definitely miss the daily interaction with other adults, in person. Being home all the time kind of zaps the life from me, and then I have no energy to actually leave the house. It's a vicious cycle! I need to work on better self care so I can be a better version of me for my loves. 

So yeah. It made me cry. Here ya go...

To My Dearest BCS Family,

Over the years I’ve sent many a long, wordy email sharing pieces of my journey with you.  You’ve been gracious enough to permit me to pour out my heart before, and I thank you for allowing me to do so one last time. 

I’m not someone who is afraid of change, but I do need adequate time to mentally prepare myself for it.  It’s part of the reason why I prayed for over two years about whether or not BCS was still the place for me.  It’s part of the reason why I gave my two weeks’ notice more than four months ago.  I’m sure it’s part of the reason why tonight it suddenly feels like it’s all crept up on me and the end is coming much too quickly.  As you know, my children and I have walked through a multitude of seasons during my four year employment at BCS.  We relocated from out of state, adjusted to a new community, suffered the pain of divorce, crawled through the processes of healing and rebirth, recreated our private world and found contentment in Jesus.  We’ve changed homes, cars, day cares, friends, churches, and labels.  And most recently, were blessed with a new chance at happiness and family in my recent marriage.  With our beloved new family, the Murphy’s, we’ve been loved and blessed beyond measure, as well as endured tragedy that words can’t adequately describe.  And through all the changes, the only constants for me have been the Lord’s faithfulness, and my desk in the Admissions Office.

Many times I’ve thanked you, individually and as a whole, for the incredible gift you’ve been to me and my kiddos.  I cannot thank you enough.  Jasper and Teiley have been blessed year after year with wonderfully loving teachers, counselor, office staff and a Principal who takes the time to get to know them and make sure they’re doing well.  I’ve been blessed with important work to do, and more importantly (at least to me), beautiful friendships that I will cling tightly to.  So many of you have been instrumental in carrying my kids and I through some incredibly painful years as you obeyed the Lord’s leading to be His hands and feet in our lives.  I have witnessed the Lord work miracles in and for me, and through the dark, His light has prevailed.  I am a better woman having gone through what I have, and having done so in this safe and generous community.  I’m grateful for it all.

As I leave BCS with mixed emotions, and enter the world of internship at my church, again I humbly ask for your prayers: 

·         For my marriage.  I’m blessed to be recently married to a man who is sensitive to my sensitive heart and sees the importance of following where the Lord leads – even when it leads us to scary, uncharted territory.  I’m grateful for the ways we are already walking through this together and would ask for your continued prayer coverage that the enemy would not get a foothold in our marriage, but that we would remain strongly dedicated to the Lord and each other, even as we’re still getting to know one another and adjust to our new normal, which is yet again changing.  I’m grateful for this opportunity to have more time and energy to invest in my husband and children as well.

·         For the Lord’s provision.  Or rather, our trust in Him doing so.  It’s a huge step of faith for my husband and I as we step away from one income and increase expenses to keep our kiddos here.  I’m excited to see how the Lord will provide for these things in ways that only He can.  I pray we both keep our focus on Him as our Provider.

·         For my internship.  You know how when you really want something, it scares you to death?  Yeah – that’s kind of what I’m feeling right now!  I just started my internship this past Sunday, and I’m feeling very overwhelmed and unprepared.  I’m excited and nervous for this new season of my life – as if I needed another major transition right now, haha!  I don’t know where the internship might lead, but my desire for doing so is to set aside the next year to really seek the Lord and His will for me.  I’m anxious to see how He can use my heart for people to reach those who need His amazing love.

Thank you again, a million times over, for the ways you’ve touched and changed my life.  I will deeply miss so many people that have become family to me here.  I’m sad to leave, excited to move forward, and hope to see you before my final day, next Friday, the 21^st.  Please just expect me to be in tears if we do bump into each other. 

In the oh so wise words of Winnie the Pooh, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

Xoxo.