The Source of Hope

Joshua was 11 when he was diagnosed with Celiac disease. They found it when he stopped growing for a year, after already clocking under 20% on the growth chart for many years he eventually fell off completely. Our pediatrician, Dr. Vernier, thought he had growth hormone deficiency. With specialist after specialist, tests, and procedures, It took many months and thousands of dollars to realize not only Joshua had celiac disease, but so did Hannah.  

It was four years after diagnosis before Joshua began to catch up from being a malnourished 11-year-old “with the bones and growth plates of a 7-year-old”  to the size he should have been. All three of our children were tiny for a long time. We were used to it. Which made it feel even more shocking when Joshua came to me and confessed he couldn’t be left alone with his siblings anymore. It was 5 years after the attacks had stopped, but the door was still open and Josua was troubled by temptation he didn’t want to have. He’d realized his ability to manipulate after methodically testing first Noah, then Hannah to see if he could get them to do what he wanted. They both willingly submitted to harmless things, but now Joshua knew he could probably get something he wished he didn’t want and would regret forever. So he stepped up and bravely asked us to set solid boundaries between him and his best friends, his playmates, Noah and Hannah. He asked for accountability to keep from acting out and traumatizing all three of them. 

He was only 11. And I could lament how unfair it is he had to bear these burdens and extol the bravery and virtue of someone so young seeking help at that moment. Both would be true. But what do you think I felt when he walked up to me in our kitchen while the other two were ignorantly playing outside? I could see them through the window as he recounted to me his methodical test to see if he could, in fact, make them do his bidding. As the blood rushed past my ears and with my heart beating wildly in my chest, what do you think I felt, and how do you think I wanted to react? 

I felt anger. Rage. Fury at the world, at Sam, at the predator who’d introduced this perversion to him - my child who still looked like a baby to me and the two smaller babies in the yard. I wanted to tear something; someone in two. I would have happily picked up a weapon and beat a predator to death, even knowing I wouldn’t feel better afterward. If fight or flight is real, I was 100% fight. 

But my brave, tiny little boy was looking at me. We’d experienced years of hypervigilance after the season of assaults, watching their every move together, never letting down our guard. And it had waned and dissolved into a place of peace. So peaceful, the three of them shared a triple, tiered bunk bed we’d made to clear out a giant space to play. They had a huge, rolling yard with a hand-built pirate ship, cubbies, and adventurous places to pretend together. Every day, there were stories they created and every stuffed animal had a personality and purpose, usually crafted by Joshua. And he was telling me that time of childhood freedom had to be put aside. By him. To save himself and his siblings from the trauma he couldn’t stop remembering and feared acting out. And as I knew all of this in an instant and felt all the fury and pain from the past and present, I somehow opened my mouth and said the right things. 

I told him how proud I was. How grateful I was. How he did exactly what he needed to do. I reassured him of all the good things to come, how they wouldn’t be - couldn’t be - affected by his brave decision. I picked up this painful burden and that heavy one. When he expressed worry or concern about how Noah, Hannah, David, or I might feel, I eased his fears and picked up each one to carry for him. And then we spent the next week redoing our home to put Joshua in his own room. In a 950-square-foot two-bedroom home, it was a bit of a trick, but we did it! Of course, we did it. And I cried with David and alone, grieving another period of loss and regret I could never stop. Sometimes it felt like the pain would never end and was nearly too much to survive. 

When things are good, God is easily acknowledged and easily ignored. He can be brought out like a treasured possession, to chat with, about, and even worship and adore without really feeling the gut-wrenching need for Him trauma brings. In the pit of despair, we cry out to Him. I had already had it out with God and was mostly in a place of peace, and I knew without Him, I could not have been all I needed to be for Joshua. The wrong words, looks, actions, and reactions would have poured out of me instead. I am weak. He is strong. 

Because it’s not just a matter of knowing God is good; the same yesterday, today, and forever. It’s not enough to know you have to be the stable and kind, caring, pillar of faith and foundation for your child when your emotions want to do anything else. It’s not pulling yourself up by the bootstraps or Just DOing it. It’s certainly not listening to your gut, to your heart, or to your passion and will.  It’s actually letting go and letting Him. That peace that passes understanding? It’s in those moments. The abundance He promised? It’s given then. All things working together for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to His righteousness? You can see it. Those moments of panic and pain, where you’re in the deepest darkest well of despair but you must still be faithful to your parenting, even beyond your abilities. Right there in the furnace. There He is. 

When we share with parents who’ve recently discovered their child is a victim of assault the long, arduous, sacrificial road to recovery, victory, or even joy on the other side of the journey to adulthood, we are almost always met with anger and frustration. They want to push us away and be angry with the messenger. I’ve been asked to give hope instead, which usually means they want me to put limits on what pain they will feel. They want an end date on their pain or when their child’s recovery will be complete, even a promise certain bad things won’t happen. They want me to make them feel safe in unsafe places, feel peace where there is no peace. They want circumstances to be under control again. School. Church. Family gatherings. Siblings at play. And I can’t. It would be a lie to tell them to depend on people, even themselves. 

Truth is difficult. Pain is part of our journey and as parents, all we ever want is to spare our children from it. We want it so much our flesh tries to force us into seeing safety in other people and places because we crave it so badly. And then we play pretend and unwittingly force our children to do the same thing. Our very desire to create a feeling of safety takes the actual safety away. 

Or, we can lean on the one true, good, safe person in the world, the person of God. We can trust in God Himself to both provide the stability we need and thankfully, the strength to carry on when hard choices must be made. Jesus experienced every temptation, which means He made choices to protect others from His flesh by seeking boundaries and accountability from God. It means He had to have experienced blood rushing in His ears and pain so deep He couldn’t breathe but allowed God to grant Him peace enough and strength enough to say the right words and do the right thing. Somehow it’s always just enough and not a lot of extra, but it is always enough. God is, was, and will always be, enough. 

Will it be hard to walk with your child through the valley of the shadow of death and get to the other side, only to find out you have to walk through it again? And again? And again. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But your panic and your personal fight or flight when you hear that’s the road before you is because you believe, at least a little bit, that you’re being asked to do it by yourself somehow. And in that horrible circumstance, you would have every reason to panic! But you can’t do it alone. Each step forward you will have God before you, beside you, and inside you to carry you through. It is not up to you. It’s up to Him. Let Him do for you what I did for Joshua. Confess your burdens as they rise up, then let Him carry them. Share your fears, then give them to Him. Submit your decisions, your desires, and yes your anger and frustration to Him. Allow God to give you the freedom to live in peace, in abundance, and with the promise of seasons of Joy. 

Joshua is the one who chose to submit to God, to seek Him and His wisdom, to believe He was everything we told him He was. And one reason he would tell you is that He lived a life of miracles. Where circumstances were too hard, too scary, too much, that’s when God showed up. We had to learn not to fill in the spaces of fear, pain, and uncertainty with our wants, needs, wishes, or will. And when we managed to do so, He was there. And Joshua was watching. I give thanks every day he didn’t grow up to admire me or his earthly father for all we managed to do, though I’m sure he’d say he does. But if he stops to think about it, he will be the first to tell you it’s not we who journeyed us through from pain to healing, from victimization to victory. It was God Himself who reached down into the pit and pulled us out of the miry clay. To God be the glory. Great things He has done. And He is ready to do them for you, too. 

The Transparent Journey of Carol Beth Scott

In a few weeks, I will have completed my first 12 Step Program. I entered for co-dependence, hoping to break the final chains wrapped around my heart, mind, hands and spirit by immersing myself in truth. I am on the final step, having realized my core issues are abandonment and shame.

“My name is Carol Beth Scott, and I am recovering from co-dependence, shame and abandonment” ”

— Hi Carol Beth!

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I grew up begging my mother for therapy. She was such a victim of abuse and shame herself, she was actually terrified to let me go. And I heard about it, every time I asked. “You’ll tell them about me.” And she was right. I would have. It would have been my main topic of conversation. How she treated me when no one was looking. I often wonder what would have happened next, had someone known what I was going through. How I would be different now.

Some of my first memories are of disappointing my mother. I knew exactly how I was a disappointment, all the reasons I was a disappointing person, but I never could pinpoint exactly when the demonstration of this disappointment was going to happen. To this day, I couldn’t begin to chart a map showing the exploding mines in our relationship and how to avoid them, and my entire childhood is colored by this effort. I would do anything to avoid the yelling, the sleep deprivation, the threats, the (very infrequent) physical assaults, the torment. Most of all, I wanted to avoid the pain of hearing how worthless I was, though I didn’t know it at the time.

Hypervigilant. Anxious. Fearful. Overly cooperative.
My constant state of being.
Deceptive. Manipulative. Self abusive.
My survival mechanisms.

You would think I’d have gone to therapy the moment I left home, but instead I ended up learning how to give therapeutic counseling, counseling others in my volunteer positions in college and as a lifestyle. I’d already studied enough psychology textbooks and case studies to teach my own class, by the time I took one in the spring of my Freshman year. Not to mention, I lived with parents and a sister who all suffered from their own unique diagnoses that gave me case studies up close and personal. I knew enough to be a help to everyone. Everyone but myself. Why didn’t I help myself? Myself wasn’t worth it.

It’s different when it’s you who’s in pain. My Post Traumatic Stress served me well when I wanted to excel in class, in social situations, in business, even in helping others find the hope in their own healing process. As soon as I learned to harness my heightened senses combined with my overwhelming empathy, I knew I could go far. And as I let the grace of Christ temper my sinful nature, my survival mechanisms were taken captive, one by one. My fruit changed, but my inner spirit was still a child of neglect, abandonment and shame.

By the time I was married at 20, I was no longer deceptive, manipulative or self abusive. But I was in pain. And remained sensitive. I didn’t know how to choose people to be around me who didn’t abuse me and trigger my co-dependence. I was the proverbial doormat under the treads of many boots. The psychological abuse came swift and often, and I took it as gospel, changing myself inside and out at the least provocation, simply to make others happy.

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When you collect people who insert themselves into the abuser role opposite your co-dependent role, it can take many years to move past the pain enough to recognize it and release them from your life. My healing up until now can be measured not so much by the people who came into my life, but by the people who left.

I had a pattern. A very troubling pattern. As soon as I stopped performing for others, they would dislike me. And when you combine their immediate dislike with my overwhelming fear of disappointing others like I’d disappointed my mother all my life, you can see why it took me awhile to be strong enough to stop “the act” and be myself. Because I knew that “Myself” wasn’t worth liking. Why would I let her show up?

It wasn’t that I was pretending to BE someone else, actually. What I was doing is never allowing my own needs or wants to be considered or even realized. From the smallest decisions - where shall we eat dinner? To the largest ones - where shall we live for the rest of our lives? I didn’t even ask myself what I wanted. I didn’t even want to know. I only wanted to know how I could “show love” to others by doing what they wanted. In the process I completely lost who I was.

And then something would happen where I wouldn’t give over. I didn’t realize it until after all the losses were gathered into a memory heap, but the moment when I would refuse to be subservient and only exist to reassure others their decisions were best and “of course, I want that also” was when their behavior led to pain for another person. Even themselves! And most often, I spoke up for their children. and mine But of course, not me. Never me.

I wasn’t strong enough to speak up for me - not for the first 40+ years of my life. But as I entered my 30’s, I learned to be strong enough to speak up for others. And when I did, it revealed the true hearts of the people I called “friends” and “family” and that they didn’t love me. They loved the me that stroked them. Not actual me.

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Discover abuse or neglect -> Speak Up -> Rejection by the abuser/neglector

It seems so obvious now. But I couldn’t see it. My deepest regret is it took the entire childhood of my children for me to learn how to surround them with healthy people. My greatest joy is seeing them make better decisions than I did. Thankfully, they learned from my journey.

My in-laws were the first deeply embedded relationship I lost by speaking up for my husband and empowering him to speak up for himself and our children. A few years later I discovered my uncle had assaulted his daughter. I spoke up for her. My family chose to rally around the pedophile (so sadly typical) and not me, though recently I was blessed to see a few of them and actually hug them and share a meal. It still seems like a miracle.

At the age of 30, I did speak up to my mother, and not for others. For myself, when I realized I was modeling abuse to my new baby daughter. And to my mother’s everlasting credit, she changed her behavior. I know it was for the sake of her grandchildren, but it was enough. I was with her up until the moment she died.

But it’s the friends I chose where I learned my greatest lessons. Not only did I give over, tolerate judgment, listen as they gossiped, abused and maligned others in my presence without correctly assigning their behavior as indicative of their character, I also ingested their judgment of me as truth. Until the day they turned their ugliness into abuse of their family, by neglect or design. Until the moment when they attacked their children or my children or even themselves, and I couldn’t stand by without saying something. And so I did.

Again, I didn’t see the pattern. But what happened when I finally opened my mouth is I spoke up FOR someone else and that’s what made people turn against me. I still struggle to understand HOW this is possible, but it’s true. And thankfully, I’m finally healthy enough to understand the validity of this pattern.

It’s been two years since the last toxic people exited our lives and it’s been a year of healing and challenges - for all of us, am I right? And in the midst of the challenges of Covid, early in 2020, I entered Regeneration at church and learned to participate, to deal, to step up and stand up.

Except that’s not at ALL what Regeneration is about. It’s about Trust. And Faith. And giving over and allowing God to care for you, not others and especially not yourself. It’s simply not possible for me to do all that needs to be done to make my journey about Glorifying God instead of myself; about following the two greatest commandments. Do you know what they are?

The Greatest Two Commandments

I wasn’t loving my neighbor by giving over to them and allowing them to use me for their own gratification. That is definitely co-dependence and that was what I was trained up to do. And that’s the direction I went.

But the truth is, it’s not loving. It’s selfish. It’s not a real relationship. And I love authenticity. I crave authenticity. And I’m finally walking in the steps of my own authentic self. And you may not like me. And I have to be okay with that. I’m starting to be okay with that.

There is so much good news in this, but what I want to share right now is that this chapter of my journey ends with me being able to love people better. I entered afraid I would be told I had to stop DOing for others, because I was doing it out of co-dependence and not love. But instead, I learned I could DO for others with my whole heart and it’s so incredibly freeing. I LOVE to show LOVE. And now I can do it better.

If you’re a victim of shame, pride, self protection, co-dependence, your own sin, others’ sin, basically - are you alive? Then you can be blessed by participating in the 12 Step journey of Regeneration, too. If you choose to take that first brave step, let me know. I want to pray for you. Really!

Fighting Fear and Finding a Life

Looking around, I see a hollow existence for most of us. It’s all about the watching, watching, watching. We watch people on TV, in movies, on social media and even actual humans circling around us. All the time we’re forming excessively strong opinions, alliances and a sense of ownership over things we’ve had neither a hand in creating nor in the perpetuating of success or failure. Yet, we feel like its “ours” to attack or defend. And you know what?

It’s weird.
It’s pathetic.

When someone’s life becomes all about watching others live theirs, they’ve stopped living. And why? Because they’ve given in to fear, and sometimes apathy. It’s the dedicated player whose life has become about watching, instead of playing. It’s the romantic who stopped trying for a relationship or investing in their long-term relationship & instead seeks to fulfill themselves with watching and reading others’ experiences instead.

Watchers tend to have an ever-growing list of rules and diatribes about their lives, too. I’m reminded of a woman who never failed to lose my respect when she interacted with others rudely replying to a waitresses offer with “We don’t DRINK coffee” before returning to her conversation at the table. After her rudeness to our server, she continued extolling the virtures of the latest crime playing out on the national news, something she also had passionate opinions that (of couse) must be shared. But when it came to real lives and real people, the only interaction she could muster up was pulling out her expanding list of do’s and dont’s which she loved to whip out and beat others with, at the least provocation.

Fear leads to isolation, which leads to ugliness of spirit.
Interacting with others - many others of many backgrounds, lifestyles and paths, leads to an open-hearted life of joy.

Life in the bubble is hollow and ugly, and it makes people who live in the bubble ugly.

In college I volunteered as a counselor in a variety of locations and in one particular facility, I had a recurring patient from the church of Wicca. She was a lost, angry soul who came to yell at me, even as I endeavored to love on her as perhaps the only Christian who’d ever done so. She was big, scary and furious. But, she came! And I got to talk to her. I spent time away from the office learning about Wicca, so she would know I respected her beliefs enough to take the time to learn about them. I would dearly love to tell you she became a Christ follower in that time, but I always knew the best hope I had was preparing the ground and maybe, must maybe, planting a seed or two. I treasured my time with her.

In the same office were two fervent middle-aged church-going ladies, who were wonderful when they spoke to me. But dang, were they scared of that Wiccan. They would actually shrink & hide when she came in. They had been in the bubble way too long. Their list of do’s and don’ts, legalistic canon of backstories and reasons to NOT do something grew by the day. They looked at me like some sort of superhero, willing to take on the world, when all I was doing was walking into a room to share Christ’s love with a Wicca follower. See why I call it pathetic? Those poor ladies had stopped living, and it broke my heart.

Courage isn’t the absence of your fear.
It’s the absolute presence of your fear, but you DO IT ANYWAY.

Growing up as the daughter of a mentally ill mother who suffered from severe traumatic stress, I saw what fear could do to a person & it wasn’t anything I wanted a part of. I’m drawn to the driven, the brave, the courageous, the boundary pushers. I want to ride their train & I want them to ride mine. For that reason, I choose courage.

But when you’re doing God’s will. When you’re doing seemingly courageous things because He is calling you to do them, it’s not courage. It’s not bravery. It’s STINKIN’ AWESOME! God doesn’t bring a spirit of fear. He makes you BOLD and BRAVE and LOUD and AMAZING! Sometimes your life will confuse others, those who are watchers and waiters, who make lists and rules to keep themselves safe. But in the end, God’s glory will shine all around you and because you are walking in HIM instead of in FEAR, you get to be a front row witness to the incredible and the profound. You get to be the reflector of His glory, the vessel of His love, the hands and feet of Christ. You see HIM in others.

Now, that’s something worth watching.

Love

Before Hannah was born, I prayed very specifically for blessings to shower upon her. I chose to pray for the things I longed for myself when I was growing up or looking back at regrets - older brothers, a healthy sense of herself, a driving passion for the Lord, a desire for relationship but without ever compromising herself.

God said yes.

And it humbles me constantly. I prayed a hundred smaller prayers over her, and they were answered too. God so abundantly blessed and exceeded my prayers for her, I struggle to write them down. It feels prideful, even though I know they are from HIM. Just the presence of her beauty, inside and out - it humbles me. She is a delicate gift of steadfast Love. I couldn’t imagine anyone who would deserve her, but I prayed for him to come into her life.

And now, God has answered this other deeply rooted prayer of my mother’s heart with Hannah’s first romantic relationship. He has blown me away with his goodness and Love for my child. I don’t know how this will play out - they’re young & there are unique hurdles to their future - but I do know how blessed we are right now, for knowing this young man (who shall remain nameless and faceless for the sake of his privacy). I do want to write about him, though. I don’t want to forget this precious moment in Hannah’s life.

You see, the longer he is part of Hannah’s days & weeks, the more I realize he is a blessing because he epitomizes Corinthians 13. He is an answer to our prayers, because he walks in LOVE.

Hannah chose him. She developed feelings for him over many months and confided in me the silent torture of being in his presence without him noticing her. She isn’t a girl who will flirt or tease. She’s straightforward. And without a hint of what would happen (though I suspected any boy would be crazy not to at least get to know her) she told him. SHE TOLD HIM. I still marvel at her bravery. And, to his credit, he didn’t jump at the chance. He was cautious. He was careful. You know, for a hot minute - then he started to see how amazing she is.

And now they’re smitten. It’s young love, with all the passion and persistent desires to be with each other, the glow of happiness when they’re together and sadness when they’re apart. All that is to be expected.

What’s surprising is the pervading and consistent sweetness to their relationship. I didn’t know young love could be this way. Like so many other areas of my life, I only knew how to get it wrong & I simply pray for my loves to get it right.

My heart swells in their presence. The way he touches her with respect and sweetness, cradling her like the greatest treasure he’s ever known, is precious to be near. He’s more respectful of her boundaries than I knew possible and he actually guards her purity openly. He encourages her, delights in her, seeks her joy and is protective of her heart. I couldn’t ask for a better companion for my precious daughter, except I did. And again, God said yes. I couldn’t be more grateful.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. ........

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

— Corinthians 13