(Part 10–Spinning In Circles…)
(From the Beginning)

It seems silly, and it’s quite embarrassing to admit this, but a few weeks later I scheduled a session with my counselor to address the issue.

It took a few sessions to get to the source of the fear, but we eventually got there

     …back to that hallway…

I believed,
from so young I can’t even remember,
and so deep in my core I couldn’t even recognize it…
that I was not worth living for.

No matter what I did…
how much I accomplished…
how good I was…
how easy-going and adaptable I was…
…it was never good enough for her to want to live.

I knew this wasn’t true
—in my head.

But my heart was still deeply wounded.

As I left the session, I laughed out loud at the absurdity of having to go to counseling to learn to make a phone call.

I imagined our new numbers-driven VP coming to challenge my lack of phone activity, and responding,
Give me a couple of months, I’m working on it with my therapist!

But then His truth came to me.

As I processed the previous hour’s discovery,
astonished at the extent of the damage from my childhood,
I thought
Who would have imagined that a phone call could carry so much power,
placing me in a position of feeling like I wasn’t worth living for?

Then, in a quiet, tender voice,
I felt my Abba,
Yahweh,
speak to my heart…
Wendy,
My child,
not only are you worth living for,
but I died for you.
And now,
I live forever—
for you

David writes of God in Psalm 56…

You keep track of all my sorrows.
You have collected all my tears in Your bottle.
You have recorded each one in Your book.
My enemies will retreat when I call to You for help.
This I know: God is on my side!
I praise God for what He has promised;
Yes, HalleluYah for what He has promised.
I trust in God, so why should I be afraid?
What can mere mortals do to me?
I will fulfill my vows to You, oh God,
and will offer a sacrifice of thanks for Your help.
You have rescued me from death;
You have kept my feet from slipping.
So now I can walk in Your presence, oh God,
in Your life-giving light.

(Part 9—Emptiness…)
(From the Beginning…)

Several months ago, I bought my two-year-old a small back pack.
He was so excited.

As he put it on, he sauntered around, so proud.
Then, he turned his head
           and continued in circles
                             like a dog chasing his tail
        trying to see the backpack on his back.

I directed him to a mirror so he could look at his new treasure.

As I chuckled, I thought to myself—
                  that’s me…
        trying to see the monkey on my back…

Realizing that until I use a Christ-mirror…
                 I will continue to spin around in circles…
                                   making myself dizzy.

In another step of faith, I reached out, almost by accident, to a friend about a fear I was facing in my job

            …another paralyzing fear…

I know most people in sales struggle with making phone calls…
         but mine went beyond struggle…
                      beyond fear…
                                into full-fledged panic…

I would stare for what felt like hours at the phone
                 which weighed about a hundred pounds…
        I’d pick up the receiver…
                   then quickly set it back down
                           as if it were 1000°.

Sometimes I’d work up enough courage to make some calls,
             which would drain every ounce of energy
      and leave me emotionally and physically exhausted.

God continued to bring people to me to keep my practice running.
          But I’d still sit there, paralyzed and in complete panic.

She helped talk me through some of the emotions…
               cried with me…
         prayed with me…
                   and encouraged me to continue to pray
    that God would reveal the lies that I was believing about myself…
                  and replace them with His truth…

(Part 11—A Cry Answered…)

(Part 8–Sinful Denial…)
(From the Beginning)

About a year and a half ago, I went through a period of intense stress and spiritual warfare.
I began a new career…
               while raising two children…
         trying to be a good wife…
                     keeping up a home and family…
             serving in the church…
      launching a new ministry at church.

My then one-year-old decided he didn’t like sleeping at night.
I went weeks without any decent stretch of sleep.

Trying to be the martyr, I would take him downstairs so my husband, the main
breadwinner, could get sleep and be “on” for work the next day.

One night, at about 2:00 in the morning, at the end of my wits, I decided to take the baby for a drive to try to get him to sleep.

I was so angry…
          in dire need of sleep…
I pushed my husband, who had finally come downstairs, out of the way to get to the car.

As I drove up and down Grove Community Drive, my blood boiled.

I was
    so hot…
        so tense…
             so angry…
I could scream.

And I did.

DOESN’T ANYONE UNDERSTAND? I’M A REAL PERSON AND I HAVE NEEDS TOO!

Then I thought, Great, I’m going to have to confess this at small group tomorrow.

So I began in my head, the conversation I imagined would unfold at small group…
…expressing my frustration at my child…
        …the isolation from my husband…
                 …the exhaustion from all I felt obligated to do.

I felt the Spirit prompting me to pray.

That was the last thing I wanted to do.

Reluctantly, I did.

I prayed
God, why?
   I don’t understand this!
Is it too much to ask for one night,
           even just a few solid hours of sleep?
With all I do for
      my family,
            for You,
        for the church,
                   for my clients,
          for others…
Why can’t I get the one thing I need most right now?
God, It’s everything I have right now just to hang on!
    I’m barely holding it together here!
         I have nothing left…
                         absolutely nothing left.

As soon as I finished those words, He gave me Scripture.

Suddenly a calm came over me
                —then a song—
    All of You is more than enough for all of me…

By now, the baby was asleep, but I decided to drive a couple of more laps,
       singing in praise,
             taking solace in the serenity I felt.

In those moments, I experienced a glimpse of true peace…
Not the false peace I tried to create by
        avoiding conflict,
                       maintaining my composure,
     trying not to make even a ripple on the surface of the water,
               all the while below the surface,
        treading desperately to stay afloat.

I learned that in order to experience true complete peace
          —shalom shalom—
   I would have to travel through the Valley of the Shadow of Death…

(Part 10–Spinning In Circles…)

(Part 7–Missing Memories…)
(From the Beginning)

My sin was beginning to become so clear to me.

I felt totally unqualified.

Instead of feeling victimized,
              I carried incredible shame and fear.

Instead of allowing myself to again be vulnerable,
              I supported myself with pride.

By this time, I had wrapped myself in self-sufficiency and have-it-togetherness for so long, it was nearly impossible for me to expose my weakness.

I had spent so many years telling myself that my mom’s illness was just that
       —an illness—
and had nothing to do with me…

So long believing that I wasn’t a victim,
and therefore none of the things I had experienced had any real affect on me.

How could I admit after all these years that I am so broken inside?

I could hardly believe it myself.

It would still be more than a year before I could share this with anyone
          —even my husband,
                     my best friend.

Yet, knowing the Holy Spirit was still calling me to shine,
I slowly began to open up to
      my husband…
                    the people within my small group…
             and other women in MAP (moms with a purpose)…

I began to realize that I’m much more of an extrovert than I had ever realized.
It wasn’t the groups or the people that drained me.
It was the heavy burden of fear, shame, and pride.

I was terrified of being exposed…

(Part 9–Emptiness…)

(Part 6–Elephants, Mice, and Monkeys…)
(From the Beginning)

A few months after the experience in the car, (and it would be several more months before I was able to open up to my husband), I was reflecting on my life and relationships, realizing that I lacked any really close friendships.

I had friends, but none that I called and spent time with on a regular basis.
None who knew the deeper, darker parts of me.

Then I realized that there were chunks missing from my childhood memories…
                      chunks that I had completely blocked out…
              because I simply checked out for a while…
                                   operating on autopilot, I guess.

There was one chunk that was especially extended—more than a whole year.

As I progressively went backward in my mind—
               where I went to school,
        the home we lived in at the time,
                          who lived around us—
another painful memory ambushed me.

I had never considered myself a victim of any sort—
especially of sexual abuse.

In my mind, I didn’t qualify as a real victim.
It didn’t fit the “model” of sexual abuse—
                 the old pervert hanging around the parks
           or the overly-friendly uncle.
No.
       The perpetrator was another kid,
                     just a few years older.

As my memory opened up over the next two years, I would realize he wasn’t the last…

I then began to realize why I had always felt safer not being noticed too much…

(Part 8–Sinful Denial…)

(Part 5–Deafening Silence…)
(From the Beginning)

From before I can remember I heard the painful expressions of my mother’s manic-depressive torment.
For her, life sucked and she just wanted to die.

I naturally took on the responsibility of trying to keep the peace in the home.

I learned to not have any needs, or provide for them myself.

I got really good at judging moods…
I could almost feel it before I even walked in the door.

I learned to judge when not to allow friends to our house,
as they might witness the terror…
          and would agonize over whether to escape to a friend’s,
or remain home to watch over her.

When I felt the wind shifting, I would spend days, sometimes weeks
        walking on eggshells…
              bending over backwards…
                trying not to be in the way…
        trying desperately to remain present…
                                       yet invisible.

It was never enough.

There would always be a straw to break the camel’s back.

Something as benign as asking for lunch money could result in receiving a $20 bill…
or listening and feeling responsible for a tirade and the demands that God just take her out of her misery.

No one had the courage to call out the giant elephant in the room…
        you know the one everyone sees…
   but no one wants to talk about.

We just got really proficient at maneuvering around it.
My family continued this dance for years.

I became so adept, I convinced myself the elephant wasn’t even there.

I occasionally caught a glimpse of the elephant…
        but would quickly and successfully remind myself it was only a mouse…

I didn’t even notice the monkey on my back…

(Part 7–Missing Memories…)

Part 4–My Soul Was Crying…
From the Beginning…

I embarked on a life-changing journey through Scripture.
I began learning Hebrew, studying and understanding Scripture with a depth I had never experienced before.

This journey would also pave the way to some very deep self-discovery.

I felt the urging to share with my husband what I was learning, and the
resulting changes I desired in our life together.

The Holy Spirit was telling me that it was time to shine…

Suddenly I felt panic like never before.

I was paralyzed with fear.

I sat there in the car as we drove back from San Diego
               unable to utter a single word.

The silence was deafening—
                       an eerie and familiar feeling.

I began to search myself, trying desperately to discover why I was so afraid to speak. After all, we met on the speech and debate team!

My husband is a very mild-tempered man—
       had never raised his voice,
       never spoken a cruel word to me.

I prayed in desperation for an answer to the source of my fear.

Then suddenly, there I was…

                      standing in the hallway of my parents’ home
             outside the bathroom door…
       listening in terror
                           to the deafening silence…

                                  …waiting to hear something…

                         …anything…

               …a sob…
                                   …a scream…

              …a trickle of water against the tub…

                               …any sound…

   …just to know she was still alive…

Part 6–Elephants, Mice, and Monkeys

Part 3–Unfitting In…
From the Beginning…

Almost nine years ago, my husband and I found Sandals Church.
Finally I felt at home…
A place to be real…
No more of this fake Christian stuff where you
                   put on your Sunday clothes and
         Sunday smiles and
                join the promenade of pretense,
                                 unable to truly trust anyone.

It was here that I learned, not only through teaching, but by example, about
              being authentic in my struggles,
                            identifying core sins,
        and discovering blind spots.

But it still took a while
              —years in fact—
     for my eyes to even perceive the depth of such sin in my own life.

Though I didn’t realize it,
my soul was crying for something…
                I was suffocating…
                                   …fading away into nothing…

It wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I began to recognize the fear
                 —and its sources—
        that controlled my life and hindered my relationships.

God started deconstructing the wall that now almost completely surrounded me.

I began to see
                   the hidden wounds
     the repressed memories
                             the buried traumas
         —and the resulting sin—
that had been lurking deep within the dark shadows of my world…

(part 5–Deafening Silence…)

(part 2–In the Shadows…)

I never quite fit in anywhere.
Always in between.
Kind of a paradox.
                      …a cheerleader…
              an honor student…
                        an athlete…
        a musician…
a little too cool for the other geeks in my college prep classes…
yet too cerebral for the popular ranks.

I felt like an imposter within both groups. Yet not even my closest friends
noticed. Over time, I built up this intimidating wall of separation…
a wall built out of fear, pride, and shame.

The wall was high enough to cast a long shadow for me to hide beneath.
As time went on, I grew so used to the darkness of the shadow, that I couldn’t even see the wall…

(part 4–My Soul Was Crying…)

(part 1–On the Surface…)

I always thought of myself as an introvert. My Myers-Briggs assessment leaned almost entirely that way.

Crowds exhausted me.
Family gatherings drained me.

I was much more comfortable observing everyone else, remaining in the shadows, just out of view.

I was usually
             runner-up…
       finalist…
             vice-president…
                     rarely in the spotlight…
             slaving away behind the scenes…
                                            …hidden just enough to not get noticed too much.

There was safety–and loneliness–in being invisible.

It was there that I could appear to have it all together.
People usually came to me for advice, asked me for help.
I was the one who could handle it…

(part 3–Unfitting In…)