Two months ago I met with a friend who admonished me saying, "God has given you power and a voice - you need to use it. What's stopping you?" We talked about how I felt afraid of men, of their opinion of me, of their power; that I usually don't speak up in groups of men because I have already assumed that they have judged me to be old, not smart, have nothing to add, etc. Those are actually either my own judgments or the voice from the pit.
Around the same time another person, a man who is a sometimes mentor, told me that I was incredibly competent but not very confident. That for me, developing confidence was important as a next step in professional and spiritual development.
Then, earlier this week, I received an group e-mail from the head of a large missionary organization; he spoke about the quality men he and his board had just hired to be in senior leadership roles nationally and internationally. As I read it I thought, "Where are all the women?" It troubled me that in an organization that is evangelical, ministers to men and women alike and states it is for women in leadership, that no women were placed in these positions. I decided to respond back to this man.
I wrote a lengthy e-mail stating that while it was great that he had found quality men for these leadership positions, I didn't see any women being chosen. I talked about my roles in his organization in the past, about my daughters roles; but that though we adore his organization, I cannot recommend that my daughters choose this organization for long-term professional employment. I questioned him as to why women aren't being found to fill these roles, and why even at lower levels in the organization women are few and far between. I was pretty strong in my wording. Not flip but definitely challenging his choices.
Before I sent the e-mail I had another woman who has been in this organization for many years read it. She loved it, said it was great, and that I should send it. So, with a great deal of trepidation, I did. After all, if I am going to learn to use my voice I am going to have to risk speaking out.
An hour after I sent it, I got a response from the head of the organization. He stated he was sorry I felt the way I did. Then he wrote a paragraph defending his hiring practices, telling me the names of all seven (out of many more positions that have been available) of the women he had promoted into senior roles in leadership during his tenure (one of whom he later fired and one who had been hired to replace another woman had passed away). Then he wished me well. End of story. He laid the smack down and shut the door on further communication.
At first I felt horribly embarrassed. What was I thinking to even contact this man? What if he sent the e-mail on to others? What if I have to meet him? He must be so angry and think I am a total bozo. I debated whether or not I should apologize for having a strong opinion, for writing him on a Friday when he is probably really tired, even for being my being a woman in the first place.
I felt like crying, assuming that God was mad at me, too. I felt like I should tuck in my tail and never do anything bold like that again. I was a bad girl to think such things and even badder for expressing them. Shit.
Fortunately, in the midst of my panic and shame, my wonderful middle son called. I gave a quick run-down on what I was feeling and he strongly suggested I not apologize, not back down, and stop feeling bad for having expressed a strong opinion. He sweetly told me I was a beautiful woman and that the other person was a completely sexist idiot (or words to that effect.)
After we got off the phone I deleted my groveling apologizing-for-being-a-woman e-mail and went to the store for Soy Peanut Butter Chocolate Ice Cream, Asian Chicken, and a bamboo cutting board that came with Gouda, Salami and Crackers. I ate dinner with my two youngest daughters who also have my back and are also learning to have a voice. We watched a movie and then I studied Bonhoeffer.
Now that I have slept and had some coffee, I continue to process what happened. It makes me sad on multiple levels. I want to cry for myself that it hurts so much when my voice and my power get shut down by a man who has tons of power and voice. I think of all the years I didn't speak up, and how I suffered from it, and that I suffer now in the learning. I think about my daughters and sons who are being empowered by me and others who love them to speak up, to use the voice God gave each of them, to say "No!" to injustice and "Yes!" to freedom. It makes me want to cry to know that they have suffered much, yet I rejoice that they are rising above that suffering to be quality men and women who will fight for justice and mercy in this world.
Can I forgive myself for speaking up and getting hurt, for being a woman who is messy in her learning? Can I forgive this powerful man for shutting me down so coldly? Can I continue to fight for women of all ages to use their power and their voice to bring healing to themselves and others? If I see this man in the future will I be able to stand up strong, knowing that he may have a negative opinion of me, or worse, might speak to me or regard me coldly and move on? Will I be OK in the messiness of learning to speak up, or am I going to chicken out, quit being a woman in leadership, and get a job at Wal-Mart?
Today, I don't know. Being a chicken looks pretty good. But if I cave, if I faint in a land of peace, what's going to happen when the battle heats up? Who's going to stand in the gap for my daughters and sons and others like them if women like me give up our voice and our power?
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Do we have a voice?
Yesterday I dropped the youngest three off to help their dad move into the new house he bought with his lover. I did some grocery shopping and then met a couple of friends for lunch. The kids were slated to work for their dad for the rest of the day and then have dinner with him before heading home. He was paying them for their work; one of the girls owed him money for camp but the other two kids were expecting to get some sweet cash.
During lunch I got several calls in quick succession from my son's cell phone. I didn't answer, but then got a text from my daughter in Seattle saying that my youngest daughter needed me because her dad was "being a bad word." Lunch was pretty much over, so I said my goodbyes and left to call the kids.
Apparently the kids' dad neglected to tell them that his lover would be working with them. The two girls don't want to interact with her right now, which they had made clear to their dad a few months ago. When the kids arrived at their dad's apartment, and saw she was there, the youngest daughter stayed in the car. When they went to the new house, the lover stayed at the apartment to pack more of the kids' dad's stuff.
Hence the call from the new house to me from the youngest in tears, stating that she didn't know what to do. She wanted the money her dad was going to give her, but it was coming at a price she didn't want to pay. We talked for awhile, and I talked with her sister who felt obligated to stay because she owed her dad the money. I suggested that the youngest ask her dad to stop working for a few minutes in order to talk this out with her. Unfortunately, at that moment, the lover arrived and everything fell apart. I told the youngest to get in the car with her siblings and meet me in town. I also told the other daughter that she had to come home. We would sort this out and then regroup with a decision about what to do next.
On the way home, the girls talked about what had happened. They felt their dad wasn't going to change, that he expected them to adapt; he stated that they knew he and the lover had bought a house as if that made his disregard of their feelings OK.
Later that night, one daughter climbed into my bed and cried. She said she felt she was losing her dad. A peacemaker, when she saw the angry expression on the lover's face, she had tried to comfort her by saying they didn't hate her, all the while having a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. The lover told her that she came over to the new house when the kids were there to show them that "she wasn't the bad guy in this." My daughter felt confused by that statement, and like the rest of us, confused about her feelings. We talked for a long time and then she went to sleep in my bed.
Shit. I question whether I did the right thing in telling the girls they had to come home. I don't know if there was a "right thing." We all want healing, but we all need to do that in healthy ways. The kids told their dad they didn't want to interact with the lover yet, and he and the lover forced the issue. Do I tell my girls to suck it up and deal with it? Or do I tell them that they can leave if they are feeling panicky or deeply hurt?
When I was their age, and shitty things were going down, I had no one who saw me, who heard my pain, who protected me and said "You are worthy of rescue and safety." I sucked it up and dealt with it; and spent many years in recovery. I became a dysfunctional co-dependent survivor. I don't want this for my own children. I want them to know that I see them, that I hear their pain, and that they can ask to be rescued. Feeling powerless is a super shitty place to be in. I want them to know that they aren't powerless, that they have a voice, and that they know intuitively what is right and what is wrong because God's Spirit lives inside them.
My children have a wonderful support system in each other. The youngest knew she could call her sister and her sister would be there for her. They all know that their siblings have their back. They have been through hell and their bond is strong. I am thankful and grateful to God for this love that they have.
Did I do that right thing? I think so. I want the kids to know that they don't have to swallow who they are in order to make their dad or the lover or me feel OK when we make wrong choices that hurt them. I want my kids to know that what they think and feel is of worth and importance. I want them to know that they are of inestimable value to God, and that He has given them intuitive spirits that know the truth.
It doesn't matter that we are going to get through this; we are. What does matter is how we get through it. Do we lie, trying to make everyone else feel OK, while shattering inside? Or do we get through it intact by being truthful, saying hard things and drawing hard lines? I think we are choosing to be on the path of truth, painful as it is.
During lunch I got several calls in quick succession from my son's cell phone. I didn't answer, but then got a text from my daughter in Seattle saying that my youngest daughter needed me because her dad was "being a bad word." Lunch was pretty much over, so I said my goodbyes and left to call the kids.
Apparently the kids' dad neglected to tell them that his lover would be working with them. The two girls don't want to interact with her right now, which they had made clear to their dad a few months ago. When the kids arrived at their dad's apartment, and saw she was there, the youngest daughter stayed in the car. When they went to the new house, the lover stayed at the apartment to pack more of the kids' dad's stuff.
Hence the call from the new house to me from the youngest in tears, stating that she didn't know what to do. She wanted the money her dad was going to give her, but it was coming at a price she didn't want to pay. We talked for awhile, and I talked with her sister who felt obligated to stay because she owed her dad the money. I suggested that the youngest ask her dad to stop working for a few minutes in order to talk this out with her. Unfortunately, at that moment, the lover arrived and everything fell apart. I told the youngest to get in the car with her siblings and meet me in town. I also told the other daughter that she had to come home. We would sort this out and then regroup with a decision about what to do next.
On the way home, the girls talked about what had happened. They felt their dad wasn't going to change, that he expected them to adapt; he stated that they knew he and the lover had bought a house as if that made his disregard of their feelings OK.
Later that night, one daughter climbed into my bed and cried. She said she felt she was losing her dad. A peacemaker, when she saw the angry expression on the lover's face, she had tried to comfort her by saying they didn't hate her, all the while having a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. The lover told her that she came over to the new house when the kids were there to show them that "she wasn't the bad guy in this." My daughter felt confused by that statement, and like the rest of us, confused about her feelings. We talked for a long time and then she went to sleep in my bed.
Shit. I question whether I did the right thing in telling the girls they had to come home. I don't know if there was a "right thing." We all want healing, but we all need to do that in healthy ways. The kids told their dad they didn't want to interact with the lover yet, and he and the lover forced the issue. Do I tell my girls to suck it up and deal with it? Or do I tell them that they can leave if they are feeling panicky or deeply hurt?
When I was their age, and shitty things were going down, I had no one who saw me, who heard my pain, who protected me and said "You are worthy of rescue and safety." I sucked it up and dealt with it; and spent many years in recovery. I became a dysfunctional co-dependent survivor. I don't want this for my own children. I want them to know that I see them, that I hear their pain, and that they can ask to be rescued. Feeling powerless is a super shitty place to be in. I want them to know that they aren't powerless, that they have a voice, and that they know intuitively what is right and what is wrong because God's Spirit lives inside them.
My children have a wonderful support system in each other. The youngest knew she could call her sister and her sister would be there for her. They all know that their siblings have their back. They have been through hell and their bond is strong. I am thankful and grateful to God for this love that they have.
Did I do that right thing? I think so. I want the kids to know that they don't have to swallow who they are in order to make their dad or the lover or me feel OK when we make wrong choices that hurt them. I want my kids to know that what they think and feel is of worth and importance. I want them to know that they are of inestimable value to God, and that He has given them intuitive spirits that know the truth.
It doesn't matter that we are going to get through this; we are. What does matter is how we get through it. Do we lie, trying to make everyone else feel OK, while shattering inside? Or do we get through it intact by being truthful, saying hard things and drawing hard lines? I think we are choosing to be on the path of truth, painful as it is.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Walking down the aisle, Part 2
I spoke with my son today about the possibility of his dad's lover coming to the wedding. Afterward I felt dirty, disgusted with myself. How do I be honest with my children about what is happening in my life and theirs without feeling like a tattle tale? They want to know, but I don't like to be the one who tells. I wondered if I was being passive aggressive, attempting to rally all my offspring on my side against their father. What a cheap and unkind thing to do. In honest confession, I think there is a part of me that is wanting to do that, wanting all of them to say he's a bastard and to shun him.
But is that what I really want?
What I really want is for someone, or many someones, to validate my pain. To understand my sorrow. To say I am right and he was wrong. To say that I deserve the good and he deserves the bad. I want vindication.
But there is something else beneath that.
I want to be free. Free from wanting vindication, free from wanting validation, free from wanting to be right or deserving of good. I want to be free from the past, from all of it, and I want the freedom to move forward.
My friend John said that my children's father and I will be forever linked through them. There is no changing of that truth. And yet, what I see now, is the web that connects my individual children to each other and to me as a web of its own, with no former husband anywhere nearby. It is our own web, our own family, and we are our own entity.
If he brings his lover to the wedding, can I continue to picture that web as we celebrate my daughter's marriage and the addition of a new family member to my web?
The Lord gave me a picture last spring of a Native American ceremony in which my marriage contract was officially broken. I held a spear, which symbolized my marriage covenant, as I stood before the Lord and the father of my children. I broke the spear and the contract was over. Then the Lord and I turned to a peaceful green valley with white tee-pees in it, one for each of my children and one for me. We were our own tribe now, our own clan.
I need to be present to this change, to my former husband's relationship with his lover, their buying a home together, and the chance that she will attend the wedding. I need to be present to this challenge of accepting what is. I don't have to like it, I don't have to agree with it, I don't have to condone it in anyway. But I do have to accept it.
Can I forgive? Not yet. Can I be gracious? Not yet. Can I be welcoming? Not yet. I am glad I have a few more months to get ready, to not let this rob me of my happiness and joy, to know what I will say when the time comes to interact with the two of them.
But is that what I really want?
What I really want is for someone, or many someones, to validate my pain. To understand my sorrow. To say I am right and he was wrong. To say that I deserve the good and he deserves the bad. I want vindication.
But there is something else beneath that.
I want to be free. Free from wanting vindication, free from wanting validation, free from wanting to be right or deserving of good. I want to be free from the past, from all of it, and I want the freedom to move forward.
My friend John said that my children's father and I will be forever linked through them. There is no changing of that truth. And yet, what I see now, is the web that connects my individual children to each other and to me as a web of its own, with no former husband anywhere nearby. It is our own web, our own family, and we are our own entity.
If he brings his lover to the wedding, can I continue to picture that web as we celebrate my daughter's marriage and the addition of a new family member to my web?
The Lord gave me a picture last spring of a Native American ceremony in which my marriage contract was officially broken. I held a spear, which symbolized my marriage covenant, as I stood before the Lord and the father of my children. I broke the spear and the contract was over. Then the Lord and I turned to a peaceful green valley with white tee-pees in it, one for each of my children and one for me. We were our own tribe now, our own clan.
I need to be present to this change, to my former husband's relationship with his lover, their buying a home together, and the chance that she will attend the wedding. I need to be present to this challenge of accepting what is. I don't have to like it, I don't have to agree with it, I don't have to condone it in anyway. But I do have to accept it.
Can I forgive? Not yet. Can I be gracious? Not yet. Can I be welcoming? Not yet. I am glad I have a few more months to get ready, to not let this rob me of my happiness and joy, to know what I will say when the time comes to interact with the two of them.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Walking down the aisle
We are going to have a wedding in the family. I am super excited about this. I found out right before Christmas about the engagement and I was thrilled. After many long years of hard stuff in our lives, this signals for me a turning of the tide.
It is going to be an interesting journey to get to the other side of the wedding. My mom, who is recovering from breast cancer and dealing with some lymph-edema in her arm, will be riding with my brother and his wife and kids in their suburban. The younger set would like to drive almost non-stop from Houston to Eastern Oregon but Mom does not. Honestly, who would? I think that it isn't good for her health to force her into such an undertaking. How to help her talk to my brother about taking four days to drive with sleep overnight, that is the question. Is it my job to advocate for her? Or hers alone?
Second interesting part is my former husband's desire to bring his lover and her 90 year old mom (also dealing with breast cancer.) No one wants him to bring her or them. And I mean no one. But if the bride and groom agree to it, then the rest of us will honor their decision.
When I first learned that this was a possibility, I wanted to cry. I did cry. I didn't sleep well that night and then I cried some more. And came down with a horrible cold. I think my immune system is expressing what I haven't and probably won't to the ex. That he is a bastard, that I hate him on some level, and that he is so utterly clueless about how his actions affect others that he simply doesn't see how much he has wounded the rest of us. I just keep blowing my nose, sucking on sore throat drops and drinking chicken soup.
My body knows what my mind doesn't seem able to say. That I need to care for me. That I need to hunker down for a bit, cancel everything on my calendar and hide out. And that I need the solace of quiet, rest, nurture and peace. Time alone to process and to be with the Lord. To tell God that I am hurt, that this is shitty, and that I will need a lot of strength and courage to walk into the land of healing if the lover and her mom come to the wedding.
But maybe what I also need is to not let this rob me of my joy about my daughter getting married. To rise above the hate, the hurt, the anger and the frustration I feel and to focus on all the good stuff that is happening in the lives of my children and in my life. I am so blessed to be the mom of seven fabulous children and soon to add another son into the mix. I know I will cry if the lover and her mom do decide to go to the wedding. I know that I will think all sorts of nasty thoughts prior to the big day. I know I will want to act selfishly and cuss and that I will imagine all sorts of devious acts or wicked words to say. And I know that I will do none of the things I imagine I would like to do.
Abba (my word for God the Father), Abba - I know that if I just come hunker down with You, drink my soup, put my head on Your chest and listen to Your heartbeat, I will get to the other side of this in great shape. I don't want to be a selfish, devious, ungrateful, pouting woman. I want to be the woman You made me to be. Help me to remember my power, my voice, my destiny in You which far exceeds petty thoughts and broken hearts. Thank You that all my feelings are safe with You. All of them.
It is going to be an interesting journey to get to the other side of the wedding. My mom, who is recovering from breast cancer and dealing with some lymph-edema in her arm, will be riding with my brother and his wife and kids in their suburban. The younger set would like to drive almost non-stop from Houston to Eastern Oregon but Mom does not. Honestly, who would? I think that it isn't good for her health to force her into such an undertaking. How to help her talk to my brother about taking four days to drive with sleep overnight, that is the question. Is it my job to advocate for her? Or hers alone?
Second interesting part is my former husband's desire to bring his lover and her 90 year old mom (also dealing with breast cancer.) No one wants him to bring her or them. And I mean no one. But if the bride and groom agree to it, then the rest of us will honor their decision.
When I first learned that this was a possibility, I wanted to cry. I did cry. I didn't sleep well that night and then I cried some more. And came down with a horrible cold. I think my immune system is expressing what I haven't and probably won't to the ex. That he is a bastard, that I hate him on some level, and that he is so utterly clueless about how his actions affect others that he simply doesn't see how much he has wounded the rest of us. I just keep blowing my nose, sucking on sore throat drops and drinking chicken soup.
My body knows what my mind doesn't seem able to say. That I need to care for me. That I need to hunker down for a bit, cancel everything on my calendar and hide out. And that I need the solace of quiet, rest, nurture and peace. Time alone to process and to be with the Lord. To tell God that I am hurt, that this is shitty, and that I will need a lot of strength and courage to walk into the land of healing if the lover and her mom come to the wedding.
But maybe what I also need is to not let this rob me of my joy about my daughter getting married. To rise above the hate, the hurt, the anger and the frustration I feel and to focus on all the good stuff that is happening in the lives of my children and in my life. I am so blessed to be the mom of seven fabulous children and soon to add another son into the mix. I know I will cry if the lover and her mom do decide to go to the wedding. I know that I will think all sorts of nasty thoughts prior to the big day. I know I will want to act selfishly and cuss and that I will imagine all sorts of devious acts or wicked words to say. And I know that I will do none of the things I imagine I would like to do.
Abba (my word for God the Father), Abba - I know that if I just come hunker down with You, drink my soup, put my head on Your chest and listen to Your heartbeat, I will get to the other side of this in great shape. I don't want to be a selfish, devious, ungrateful, pouting woman. I want to be the woman You made me to be. Help me to remember my power, my voice, my destiny in You which far exceeds petty thoughts and broken hearts. Thank You that all my feelings are safe with You. All of them.
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