Forever Friends

What’s a chapter of your life you’d title “The Hard Years” — and what got you through it?

I call my teenage years “The Hard Years” of my life. My parents divorced when I was twelve, leaving Mom with seven kids ranging from sixteen down to three. She had another child when I was thirteen. Mom had custody of us, and, unfortunately, she made some selfish and short-sighted decisions.

I was blessed with one older brother and sister, three younger sisters, and two younger brothers. I have to admit that I didn’t think of the youngest as blessings at the time.

My siblings, especially those closest to me in age, went through the tough things with me. (My older sister Cindy is two years older, and my sister Amy is a year younger than me.)

My sister Cindy was like a second mom to all of us, making sure we all got ready in time for school.

We moved the summer after my sophomore year and started going to a new school. Amy was with me. Midway through my junior year, Mom moved us to another town. Again, my sister Amy was with me, hating the new school as much as I did.

Hard things are so much easier when someone goes through them with you.

Turn your mind to good things

What’s the best way to deal with negative thoughts?

It’s easy to focus too much on negative things. But we choose what we think about. We have some control over our thoughts.

One way to deal with negative thoughts is to direct your mind to positive things. Think about what is right, what is admirable – anything that is praiseworthy.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

Philippians 4:8

Having said that, there is a reason we have negative thoughts, and we shouldn’t suppress or ignore those reasons. If you’re feeling negatively about your life, it’s a sign that something needs to change. If you’re thinking negatively about yourself, you need to work on your self-esteem.

Preparing to tell my story

I have been staying after church for a group study on “everyday evangelism,” which made me think about my faith story. I’ve shared some of what follows before on my blog but have never spoken about it publicly.

Salvation

Dad always took us kids to church. Mom stayed home. She grew up going to church, so I didn’t understand why she didn’t come with us.

When I was about nine years old, my Sunday school teacher led me to faith in Jesus. I don’t recall the Bible story. I don’t recall the words of her invitation. I don’t remember the words of my response. But for years, I could remember the feeling of joy.

In retrospect, I can see that God’s timing was perfect. The hardest years of my life were ahead of me, but I had a faithful friend with me. My faith gave me hope.

But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect…

1 Peter 3:15

I started reading the Bible every day. In sixth grade, I went to AWANA Bible studies. I was active in Youth for Christ until we moved after my sophomore year.

Meanwhile, my home life was tumultuous. My parents argued and even separated a couple of times. I thought they were arguing about the lack of money because there were too many mouths to feed.

Mom and Dad divorced when I was twelve. Mom got custody of the seven of us. Dad moved to another city and remarried within a year or so.

We kids continued to go to church on our own.

The year after the divorce, Mom had another baby. We questioned her about the father. He was someone we knew; my older sister and I babysat his children a few times. Mom managed to keep their relationship a secret.

I was afraid people would find out that our mother had a child outside of marriage and that they would judge us. So when asked about my family – even years later – I pretended that my dad was the father of all of us.

After the divorce, Mom was free to do whatever she wanted. She had a few more sexual relationships, but they were no longer a secret. In pursuing those relationships, she made decisions that were not in our best interests.

Mom told us that Dad had a vasectomy after their fourth child, but that it obviously didn’t work since they had three more kids. I learned the truth as an adult. Mom told my younger sister, child number five, that her father was a coworker who had raped her. She also told the next two kids who their real fathers were.

Knowing what happened to my mom when she was a young mother, I could better understand the choices she made. I can imagine why she wasn’t comfortable in church. I know she felt some shame, or she wouldn’t have lied and kept so many secrets.

The Other Prodigal Daughter

Mom was clearly not a good example for us kids to follow. All three of my younger sisters got pregnant in high school.

I was determined to go to college and make a better life for myself, so I didn’t take any chances. But in a way, I followed in my mother’s footsteps. When I moved away to college, I stopped going to church. I gave into temptations.

I met my husband at my first job after college. He was not a believer. His family did not go to church. I knew that the Bible says not to be unequally yoked, but I told myself it was okay. He is a good man.

The Prodigal Daughter Returns

In the years that I didn’t go to church, I missed it. I knew I should start going again. But it took something shocking to get me back.

We lived in a suburb of Denver. On April 20, 1999, two high school students murdered a teacher and several students at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado. I was devastated. I couldn’t imagine what would make kids do something so evil.

I needed to be with other people of faith. I went to the church that I often drove by,  Hope United Methodist. It was comforting to be with people who shared my faith in God.

My faith story is a long one. It has its ups and downs. It shows that when you belong to Jesus, he will never let you go.

My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand.

John 10:27-29

God loves me just as I am – flawed, selfish, struggling to be good. No matter how messed up I am, He sees a person worthy of mercy and forgiveness.

I have hope because God is good all the time. I have hope because He is in control. He is faithful; he has been with me through all the storms of my life. He will not let me go.

Staying sane in a crazy world

I think the United States has gone nuts. Seventy-seven million people decided that a convicted felon, a malignant narcissist, was fit to hold the nation’s highest office. They decided that personal character is irrelevant.

I’ve heard the word “unprecedented” used more in the last decade than I did in the previous five. These are crazy, upside down times.

Every day brings news that should be shocking but isn’t. Every day, the president says or does something that would have ended the career of a normal person. But he is not normal. He is amoral. His party exalts and protects him. So, with the support of his enablers, he continues to get away with corruption and lawlessness.

How do I keep from losing my mind when so many disturbing things are happening? How do I find contentment?

First and foremost, faith in God keeps me grounded. No matter what happens, God’s presence gives me comfort and peace. He is sufficient for all my needs.

My faith helps me keep current events in perspective. He is not the first man to do evil in the sight of the Lord. Although I want justice and accountability now, the wicked will not escape God’s justice. I also believe that God is working behind the scenes and that he has a plan.

Second, I am fortunate to live in a beautiful area. Spending time in nature brings me peace and a sense of wonder and joy. I go for walks and stop to look at wildflowers and enjoy the view. I pause to listen to birds singing or squirrels chattering.

No matter how messed up the world is, nature stays the same. The birds stick to their migration patterns. The flowers keep on blooming, and the birds keep on singing.

Third, I am not alone in my distress. I have found many like-minded people who care about truth, justice, and the well-being of others. I am not the only one who sees the foolishness in this administration’s disregard for the environment. I am not the only one who believes that immigrants deserve to be treated with compassion and dignity. I am not the only one who sees the government ignoring the needs of the poor and middle-class while further enriching millionaires.

Many people are shining a spotlight on the corruption and abuses of power. Independent media has been relentless in exposing the truth. Politicians are leaving the Republican party and speaking out against the behavior it supports and condones. Attorneys are filing lawsuits to uphold the laws. Pastors are speaking out about how un-Christ like evangelical “Christians” have become.

Finally, I have a life to live. It’s an ordinary life, but a good life. I have much to be grateful for – a good husband, family, friends, my health, and a home.

I have things to do that make a difference in the lives of others. I have things to say that may make a difference.

Prairie turnip

Go on a walk today and share a photo of something that catches your eye.

I went on a hike today along a muddy logging road in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Wildflowers always catch my eye. Most of the flowers I see are ones I have seen multiple times over the years – lupine, obeyed daisies, and salsify.

Today, a plant from the pea family caught my eye. I saw breadroot scurf pea for the first time last year. It is also called prairie turnip or large Indian breadroot. The scientific name is Pediomelum esculentum.

The plant grows in grasslands and in dry woodlands of central North America. The starchy  root is edible. I read that it was an important food for Native Americans.