When Families Feud: Effects of Stress

Have you ever looked around your house and wondered, "How did it get this dirty?" My husband and I had this experience last Saturday.

Problem is, no one wants to admit having been the one to start piling the dishes up, or having left a plate on the table or not told our daughter that she really should throw most of her toys in the trash because they are actual trash. (What is it with kids and trash they think are "treasures?")

Anyway...this brought about a little fight disagreement between my husband and me. We exchanged some heated words (proud to say there was no cursing) about whose fault most of the mess was. We usually just point our fingers at our oblivious daughter, sigh, and go into a cleaning session that makes Martha Stewart look bad.

This past Saturday, though, was different.

Why?

Because our family unit is under a bit of stress.

Stress makes even little arguments balloon out of proportion. My husband has started a new job as a youth minister (part of the reason for the no cursing). If you didn't know it, youth ministers have weird hours. I don't think they have an actual "schedule," you know, like normal working folk. It's more of a vague, ambiguous "I don't know when I'll be home" kind of thing.

Bottom line: Our family system reacted differently (heated words) because one family member (my husband) had changed the status quo.

Systems operate that way. Any good Marriage and Family Therapist will tell you that. This is a great example from my own life to illustrate my point.

Family members have to shift to account for a change in another family member. Readjust, if you will. It's the readjustment that sometimes brings a family into therapy, but in contrast, it can be the status quo that needs to be readjusted that brings a family in. Either way, the system changes.

My husband and I are fine, by the way. We both recognize (and more importantly, talk about) the changes in our life and how this affects our reactions to each other. We're hunkering down for this transitional period....and we're going to ride it out on top of the wave.

Let's Analyze: Summer breaks are around the corner (or already here) for most of us...and this is a huge stressor for families because schedules change, as do expectations and responsibilities. Any shifts going on in your family at this time?

For a chance to win Deb Kinnard's Seasons in the Mist, CLICK HERE!

Wildflowers from Winter Blog Hop: My Personal Refiner's Fire

I'm writing a rare Thursday post in honor of my friend and critique partner Katie Ganshert's Wildflowers from Winter blog hop.  Her book, Wildflowers from Winter, debuted this month. To see my earlier review of this amazing novel, click here.

For now, here is one story of immense personal upheaval and how God used it to work things for the better in my life, or, in the metaphor of Katie's book, bring a beautiful spring bouquet of wildflowers from the cold snow of winter.

Refiner's Fire

"... when He Has Tried me, I shall come forth as gold!" (Job 23:10)

High school is hard enough without getting suspended.

The caste system is in full swing across high school gymnasiums everywhere during prom or homecoming. The haves, the have nots. The geeks, the jocks.

I was in 11th grade, being groomed for taking over the editorship of our monthly high school paper. Big deal, for those who don't know...or at least it was a big deal to the people in my circle. I was an honors student, involved in just about every club known to aspiring adolescents who are trying to "build a resume" for college.

Yes, I was one of those kids. And my parents were so proud of me. I have to admit, I was proud of myself too. 4.0. Principal's List. I was on my way to going places.

But I didn't count on Mrs. Garrett. History-teacher-slash-foiler-of-dreams.

She had a test scheduled that Thursday morning. A test for which I'd studied hard, complete with typed up class notes, highlighted in various colors to look like a bowl of Fruit Loops. I knew this stuff.

My friend, John*, wanted to look over my notes, so I passed them over. Mrs. Garrett started to pass out the tests, but John kept my notes until the last minute, well past the time the teacher said put everything away. She was starting down our aisle, and John passes them to me. Frantic, I slid them under my test.

Sigh.

Yes, I know. Dumbest thing I've ever done, I do believe. But in the heat of the moment, it seemed safe. I had every intention of removing the papers after she passed by and putting them under my desk.

God had other ideas. I had a lesson coming...one whose ramifications would take an emotional and social toil far greater than I'd ever imagine.

Mrs. Garrett remembered that there was an error on the test, and to my horror, she came to this realization right next to my desk. She picked up my test, along with my study papers, and scanned the first page for the error.

Would that it had been on the first page.

She turned it over, her eyes widened, and she whispered, "You'll see me after class." She found the error, prompted us as to what the test should have read, took my study papers, and put my test back down.

I took the test, sans "cheating" materials. [Made a 96, if anyone was wondering.]

I went to see Mrs. Garrett, and of course, no matter of explaining would avail me of grace. It was fruitless, heartbreaking, and embarrassing. I'd have to go to the principal and explain my actions and await whatever disciplinary procedures were in store for me.

Worse, I'd have to go to my dad's office....the Assistance Superintendent...and tell him what had happened.

I can still remember the look of absolute shock, disappointment, and then anger on his face. He'd have to sit in a board meeting and listen to his own daughter's name be called out under those who were suspended that month. My embarrassment was nothing compared to his.

An administrator's daughter was being made an example to the school on why you shouldn't cheat.

I was given the option to start my three-day suspension the following Friday and forgo the fairly important role I was to play in the annual school musical that Saturday (since I wouldn't be allowed on school property), or I could start it that next Monday. In addition, I was to be stripped of all honor society involvement for the rest of that year.

It was a no-brainer choice. I went through the musical in a fog, certain people were whispering behind my back about me. Because, let's face it, no news travels faster in high school than that of a soiled reputation. I missed Monday through Wednesday, relying on the few friends who stuck by me  for homework and class notes.

Walking the hall on Thursday was one of the most humbling experiences I've ever had. Traumatic, really. I didn't have to imagine the whispers. I heard them. The covert looks, covered mouths, giggles. My reputation and witness were shot, and hardly anyone believed the real story. John didn't help out at all...but in reality, I'd made my bed when I chose to put the papers under the test. It still sounds ludicrous to my own ears.

Sitting in Mrs. Garrett's class was torture. I began to truly hate her. I blamed all my troubles on her. She knew I was a good student, that I didn't need to cheat. To be honest, I harbored a hatred for her throughout the rest of my high school experience...and even today, writing this, I've had to once again give my pain to God, because I just can't hold it.

But my experience has stayed with me in vivid technicolor. Being on the receiving end of all that disdain, amusement at my expense, falling out with friends too good to associate with some misfit who got suspended for cheating...it helped me develop an empathy and compassion for the downtrodden that I'd never have otherwise.

God was honing and fine-tuning my spiritual gift of mercy without my knowing. 

I now work with low-income, homeless families. Don't you think they know the stigma of holding up a road sign, asking for help? The hot flame of embarrassment that licks their face every time a driver pretends to ignore them on the street corner? The covert looks, covered mouths, giggles?

Well, I've been in the trenches with them. Yes, my trenches were full of tidal wave bangs, stone-washed jeans, and acne. But I still know what it feels like. I've lived it.

And my ministry, my work--my very life--is so much more effective because of it.


Let's Analyze: How has God used a painful experience in your past to bring about a glorious spring bouquet of wildflowers?

Wise Men Still Seek Him

Wish I could take credit for this, but it came in my inbox courtesy of the American Association of Christian Counselors on December 14th, written by Dr. Tim Clinton, and edited by yours truly.

A manger. The baby Jesus. Mary. Joseph. A star.

No Christmas play would be complete without the three wise men.

Matthew records the amazing story of the “Magi” who went to see the King of the Jews after his birth. Bible scholars agree that these wise men may have traveled upwards of 800 miles – a journey that could have taken anywhere from several months, to 2 years.

What’s interesting is that after the wise men’s interaction with Herod, Matthew makes a point to tell us that the “star, which they had seen in the east, went on before them, until it came and stood over where the Child was.” (Matthew 2:9 NASV)

The phrase “went before them” in the original Greek actually means to “lead by going ahead of”. There was no “trying to find” the Christ child. No going house to house making inquiry. The star simply led them to where they saw Jesus.

Throughout the Bible we are admonished to seek the Lord:

But from there you will seek the LORD your God and you will find him, if you search after him with all your heart and with all your soul.” (Deuteronomy 4:29 ESV)

“But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” (Matthew 6:33 ESV)

If only we had a “star” to go before us and lead the way.

Good news! We do. Jesus promised in John 16 that He would send us a Helper. He called this person the “Spirit of truth” who “guides us into ALL the truth“ and will “declare to you the things that are to come.” (vs. 13 ESV)

Seek the Lord. Not blindly, or haphazardly, but under the guidance of the Holy Spirit – thinking…praying…meditating on His word.

This Christmas remember – wise men still seek Him…every day. Encounter Him. Fall down. Worship Him.

It will turn your life around.

Can I get an Amen?

A Lesson for Writers from Jonah and the Whale

You might be thinking why on earth is she writing about Jonah and the Whale, but it's a great example of how we lose sight of God's provision. The whale gets a lot of face time, but Jonah had a run-in with two animals in the story...both seeming polar opposites of each other, and therein lies the heart of my lesson.

Animal #1 is the whale GREAT FISH. No duh, right? If Jonah is the "hero" of our story, then the Fish is certainly the secondary character. It swallowed Jonah whole, and clearly represented God's usage of the supernatural to rescue his creation in times of trouble. Jonah has his ah-ha moment when he says "Salvation comes from the Lord" while in the belly of the fish. He recognized the providence given to him by God in sustaining his life through being swallowed by a fish. 

Animal #2 is the WORM. What? A worm? What worm? Yep. Read it. At the end of the book, Jonah is sitting and waiting to see what would happen to the city of Nineveh. He's done his duty, called for repentance from the people of Nineveh, and now he's really waiting for God to turn them in to crispy critters. God provided a plant that grew up over Jonah and sheltered his head. "But at dawn the next day God provided a worm, which chewed the plant so that it withered" (Jonah 4:7). In our story, the Worm is the villain.

Does anyone else see the irony here? Jonah is saved by something larger than life--a freakishly huge fish--and yet he is undone by a something as insignificant as a tiny worm. Granted, a worm with teeth that chewed through his vine and made him uncomfortable with the heat of the sun beating down on him.

Don't we do this? Have an amazing God-ordained experience that sustains us and gives us motivation to keep writing, and in the blink of an eye, we're undone--made angry, made sarcastic, made bitter--by something so small on the scale of life. God chastises Jonah, asking him what right does he have to be angry and throw his little tantrum because the plant died (due to the villainous worm). 

Writers have whale moments, such as getting an agent, winning a contest, snagging a contract, getting a great review/endorsement, being in the coveted top 10 slot on Amazon. Then in the span of minutes, we can come crashing down in a storm of jealousy or bitterness due to a worm moment. A friend got a better review or is higher in their Amazon ranking, or we got a bad set of edits or critiques, or some contest judge thought our story was awful.

The lesson is to take these experiences more in stride. They are the little worms with great big teeth in our life, sent to destroy our happiness. But they have a lot in common with the great fish. Both animals were provided by God, and both were used to get Jonah's attention.


Let's analyze: What do you do when you face a situation where a worm has eaten your "vine," causing it to die?

My Recent Landlord Notice

I read to my little girl before she goes to sleep most every night. Most of the time we read the Bible, but sometimes she wants fairy tales or nursery tales. We recently read The Three Little Pigs, and I was struck at how each of the pigs spent a varying amount of time and energy on building their houses, and of course the last pig, who spent the most time on a brick house, built a house that withstood the Big Bad Wolf's puffs.

Yesterday, my friend and crit partner, Katie Ganshert, a debuting author with Waterbrook Multonomah, wrote a post on accomplishing the impossible, with God's help. I needed her reminder that when the waves (or the huffs and puffs of the Bid Bag Wolf) try to knock you down, you have to stand firm in your faith. Jesus will see you through, and there will be no rivers that will sweep over you (Isaiah 43:2).

Recently, there was another tragedy at my place of employment. A family has one less member present than they had with them on Sunday morning. Being the clinician for the agency, I was called in to be there with the family when they were told, and this was the absolute hardest thing I've ever faced in my career. I'll never forget the screams, the denial, the anger, the defeat, the pain. I'll never forget the look on the mother's face as it crumpled under the weight of the news that her child would never be with her again, laughing, playing, texting her.

Life changed in the span of time it took to say, "I'm sorry, but your child has been killed in an automobile accident." If ever there was a time when the waves would threaten to crash over a person, that would it.

I absolutely dreaded going back to work the next day. I knew there would be hours upon hours of comforting, checking in, being present and being on. I knew I'd have to do critical incident stress debriefing, over and over and over. After the night before, I honestly didn't know how I'd do it. I'd released my own pain and sadness at home, and felt raw.

Monday morning I managed to take a shower, get dressed. I felt like a shell of myself. No motivation, exhausted, spent. I believed my house to be made of straw and sticks, easily blown away. I was depleted.

But on my way in to the office, this is what I saw:

Rainbow over Humboldt County, CA

All it took was this one visual reminder (which yes, I took this photo while driving...huge no-no in CA, but I didn't think anyone would believe me at work) to evoke God's promise to the earth to never again let it be overtaken by a flood.

I was rejuvenated, renewed. I actually smiled when I arrived, and was able to do all the things I had known I had to do...but with a song in my heart, despite the pain and exhaustion keeping residence there. It was exactly what I needed, and I realized that my house was built of brick and not just straw or sticks. My Landlord painted me a little note in the sky to remind me, too.

Let's analyze: Are you building a house of straw and sticks, or are you taking the time and energy to use brick? What huffs and puffs of the Big Bad Wolf are being sent your way this week?