Tag: expectations

reality

Smile!

jem

The number of times I have heard people say this to me is mind-numbing.

I have wished to be the type of person who smiles easily.

I’m just not.

I walked away, and turned my back on past traumas.

I have bravely confronted the causes of painful wounds that were caused by the sharp cutting of things outside of my control.

I have embraced the peace, love and joy I receive continuously from God.

None of this frees me to walk as though I am care-free, though.

Just because God has given and I have embraced joy– that does not translate to smile.

Joy does not equal happy.

Not in my book, anyway.

Joy brings tears to my eyes.

Joy brings peace to my soul.

Joy reminds me that Jesus identifies with me, He has felt my pain.

Joy does not equal smile.

Yes Jesus died for my sins, and my soul rejoices with singing and thankfulness.

But the traumas I have endured and pushed through– surrendering myself over and over again to God for His healing– they still happened.

Smile to me says “Pretend they never happened. Fake happy until you convince yourself you are happy.”

I have never once read in my Bible any commandment telling me to be happy.

I have, however, read that I am to be content in all things, patient and kind, generous and forgiving…

Not happy.

I finally figured out– the reason people throughout my life have told me to “Smile!” is because it makes them feel more comfortable.

My reasons for being unable to smile aren’t considered, just how much better others feel around me as long as I just smile.

When I hear how or see how others have been encouraged, embraced and supported in healthy ways by other family members– my soul feels a painful heaviness.

When I am honest and remember the struggles in my life now, and how the ones all throughout my life add to the weight of these newer ones– I am not able to smile.

A smile says everything is ok.

Well– it’s really not. Everything is not ok.

Does that mean I never laugh or smile at things?

It does not.

My “resting” face is not smiling.

My true friends know this, know me and my “why’s”, and accept this about me.

I’m not going to pretend.

Maybe God will grant me some amount of light-hearted times where smiling is not painful.

No matter what though, I know– I will smile all the time in Heaven. ✝️

reality

A Lifetime Of Not Fitting

jem

For as long as I can recall, I’ve known I just don’t belong.

I have almost always felt like I’m outside, looking in.

I’m almost never a pea-in-a-pod.

I’ve had too many unique experiences.

I don’t like to do what most others around me like.

I’m not often content with surface-level interactions.

If I were to make a list of the roles I’ve been assigned by others, it would include:

1) Don’t be seen or heard

2) Exhaust yourself beyond your physical capabilities with volunteering

3) Be a good scape-goat and take the blame for stuff you did not do/say

4) Be available, cheerfully, but don’t bother others when you need anything

5) Be low maintenance

6) Don’t ever have a need

7) Just don’t use the cane you need

8) Just be like everyone else– forget you have physical limitations and limited energy from that immune disorder.

9) Make God heal you 100% already– you obviously are missing or not accepting something…

10) Fit in this “perfect” Christian mold– don’t distinguish yourself, oh– but don’t be too confident in following God’s Spirit

11) Prove you are Saved…

There is only One Who has identified with me–

Jesus.

He didn’t fit in, either.

He was misunderstood.

He was rejected.

He was cast out.

His reputation was trampled on.

Some days I feel the weight of this life’s burdens.

They feel so heavy, it’s a challenge to not feel down-trodden.

Jesus always sustains me.

He never leaves me, never forsakes me.

Though I sometimes feel alone– He is always with me.

When I feel weak, physically, emotionally, mentally– He is my Strength, my Rock– the firm foundation of my narrow path.

People will often misunderstand, discourage or disappoint– Jesus never will.

He and I will always not fit in– together.

reality, Strong Woman

Mess— What You See Is Not What You Get

jem

I’m not what anyone would call a “put together” person.

Hot mess doesn’t even define me— just mess.

Messy.

Messed-up…

No matter how much I fight this exhausting battle of imperfection— in me and in my living space— I have yet to conquer this.

Not dirty.

Cluttered.

My space is too small for all I have.

Don’t get me started on “downsizing”.

And please don’t offer me suggestions or advice.

Just

Don’t.

I have always been sensitive about this issue.

Ashamed.

Frustrated.

Rejected.

Talked about…

Today I choose to embrace the facts.

I’m not like everyone else.

I’m not like anyone else.

I never will be.

Talking with my husband last night, he reminded me—

I have had a lot of experiences.

Experiences no one else has.

Things that— literally— nearly killed me.

Physical, emotional, mental

Traumas.

I am done apologizing for what so many see with their eyes and their opinions— as wrong with me.

I do what I can.

I face mind-numbing overwhelm.

I have stared that down many times.

Sometimes it wins.

Lately though— I win.

So my house has “stuff”.

There are reasons that will never matter to my critics.

They don’t care about my “why’s”

They just care about their preferred ways— how things “should” be.

I have struggled with being lost in a sea of opinions by sight or “first impressions”.

Very few people have taken the time look past, ignore, or focus on person me.

I am not my house.

I am not just a mess.

I am a survivor.

I am a fighter.

I am thriving in increasing health as my body heals from the inside out.

I am many testimonies of God saving, protecting, healing, repairing, changing—

I am the me that God has created.

If you only know me by the imperfect nature of appearance and/or my house—

You have completely missed it— missed me.

That really is your loss.

Walking With God

Self Sabotage

jem

Lately I have become aware of an enemy in my camp, so to speak.

I’d love to be able to point my finger, along with my focused outrage and frustration, at someone.

But, if I were to point any fingers at anyone at all— all of them would point at me.

I’m not sure why I work tirelessly to undermine myself or my confidence with myself, and others, in me.

Maybe it’s because I don’t believe I deserve it.

Maybe it’s because there are still old “tapes” running in the background of my thoughts— “You don’t deserve this.” “You are worthless.” “You don’t know what you are talking about.” “You are too emotional.” “Who do you think you’re fooling, anyway?”

Things I’ve heard others say to me, about me, over my life.

Things I’ve internalized, because certainly those people know me better than I know myself. Right?

I’ve put my confidence in how others see me, or how I think others see me— because I know I have blind spots. I can’t always see many things about me.

I have based so many things off of what it looks like other people’s reactions to me are.

I have plenty of things that are against me as I face the world, daily.

Overweight. Most people don’t even know I’ve lost a lot of weight. I still have a way to go before I’m satisfied with the outer me.

Physically I’m weak. I used to be strong. I used to be independent.

I used to value those things in myself, and even expected them from others.

God has allowed me to now be in a type of place filled with humility and self- disappointment. And— I’m sure that disappointment is universal.

I can’t do many things I used to be able to do.

So, the things I feel strongest in, I’m not confident in my ability to do them. I’m not confident I won’t just provoke further negative reactions to me.

Many years ago someone advised me that when I’m ministering to someone— praying for them, participating with praise and worship, speaking or teaching— don’t pay attention to people’s faces. Because you can’t tell what is happening inside their hearts. They can have a “look” on their faces or react/respond for an infinite amount of reasons. That can become a stumbling block for allowing God to just work through us.

As a violinist, that goes completely against my nature and teaching! I was taught to watch the conductor. Watch for the signals, the eye contact, the head nods, even verbal cues. While I wasn’t watching the crowds/audience per se, their reactions were always telling! Either they liked it, or they did not.

I just pay way more attention to those things, plus body language, than I probably should.

Because of words said to me, and reactions from people important to me over my life— I rarely trust when words don’t seem to match the rest of what I instinctively observe.

It gets confusing, trying to live up to expectations from signals and reactions others appear to have towards me.

Maybe that’s why I self-sabotage.

Who really expects I’ll ever amount to, or accomplish much of anything?

I mean— I’m too intense. I need to calm down. I’ve even been told someone wished I hadn’t been born… I’m just in the way. I talk too much. What I want to do, or how I feel is just stupid or embarrassing…

I guess I’ve just unconsciously believed all of that. Even though, consciously I know it’s mostly not true or accurate.

I feel like I need to measure up to the expectations of others— and those unconscious thoughts have, in my past, been the expectations of others.

So— I self-sabotage.

Maybe that’s why I strive so much to always encourage others. I’ll be their cheerleader, because I have confidence in them. All of us need encouragers. I have them in my life now, I purposely surround myself with people who build up and encourage.

This world has too many ways we are constantly torn down. As Christians I believe God wants us to be builders— not destroyers.

Scripture has taught me that I need to place my confidence in Christ.

God made me with a purpose— His purpose for me.

Those things that have been said, those negative reactions to me, those expectations from others— they don’t match His view of me.

And— who knows me better than God?

Reality Check, Strong Woman

MIA— Compassion and Respect

jem
I, (NAME), do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.

I am an Air Force Veteran. I am a woman. These two things should not be opposite sides of the time-in-voluntary-service, but unfortunately they are.

There are so many variants that shaped my personal military adventure. No two experiences are alike, but if I were standing next to my also Veteran, retired, husband— he is the one attention would shift to in interest.

I know this, because I have experienced this 99% of the time. We both can mention our enlistments, and mine is treated like it’s no biggie, but my husband— “Really! Thank you for your service!” with maybe a nod in my direction.

It’s like people don’t know how to process my being a woman in the military.

The military began “shaping” me to live in a man-shaped perspective, from day one.

I was 15 pounds under the expected weight-lifting limit to apply for a job I really wanted to do. You and I know it wouldn’t have been difficult for me to build up to that limit— I was determined and in shape to do that— but that was not an option. I believe this was an across-the-board decision, but I also believe that could, and maybe should, be changed.

The mindset of the military is always “military needs”, and volunteers are “property”.

The process for making me a military-minded person began by breaking me down, separating me into a group of 49 other women, limiting things like time to shower, privacy, time to eat, getting mail or calls from home, and dictating every moment of everyday.

Don’t get me wrong, it was an amazing experience, and I am proud of myself for success in making it through that.

But, for me— coming from an abusive past, it was also an emotionally difficult experience.

Additionally, it was a lonely experience— but that wasn’t a new thing for me. I have almost never had someone to talk to, or go through things with me.

That brings me to my point in writing this.

The military comes at everything from a man’s perspective. It just does. Sure there are videos, and training once a year to learn about being professional and demonstrating polite courtesy to not offend women, or make them feel threatened.

I think that is kind of a good thing, but it’s also kind of condescending.

It also does not work. I mean, just look at scandals way at the top concerning sexual harassment towards women.

Here is another perspective:

https://m.facebook.com/200999403407041/posts/1838927186280913/?d=n

My personal experiences of working in a man’s career field as a plumber (my 10th flowery-worded choice— Utilities System Specialist), in a man’s-perspective-d world are unique and don’t necessarily reflect or match another woman’s.

I get that.

But, men, and even some high-ranking women, certainly have a long way to go towards mutual respect and fair, rational, understanding and compassionate treatment of women— as individuals that are completely unique and separate from the way men are built.

With all the money poured into “research”, you’d think by now things would have naturally “evolved” from arrogant, chauvinistic, neanderthal-like behavior.

Recently, women have finally been provided with something many have needed all along! It took decades for that to happen! Why?

Because it’s a world based on men’s perspective that women are “allowed” to become part of.

Things are getting better, and yet, the latest response/reaction by civilian men to the mere mention of the newly available maternity flight suit just proves— men have a long way to go.

In the famous words of our current President— “Come on, man!”

You can, and should, do better.

reality

Expectation Meet-Up

jem

I’ve failed. Again. No big surprise. I’ve gotten pretty good at recognizing the game by now. I show up, with all of my imperfections– which are easily recognized at first glance– and I fail the test. You know– the test– where I do, or behave, or look like the labeled box I “should” just fit right in to. Where I “fall in line” with how everyone just is or just does– just sayin’…

The expectation test.

Although, I must admit, the anger I seem to detect lately is a new twist. I mean, surely I deserve whatever reaction the opinion of unmet expectations metes out, right? Surely I have no right to react or respond, or– heaven forbid– show any sort of weakness emotionally or physically.

I see the looks behind your eyes, I am aware of the reactions, and all it does is push me farther away.

Humanity has been such a disappointment to me most of my life– other than my own family. See there? You didn’t meet my expectations, either. I’ve expected grace, kindness, but have most often been meet with coldness, disappointment or indifference.

Thank God for Jesus.

Jesus didn’t meet most people’s expectations, either. In Him I find my own identity. In Him I find acceptance, and peace– comfort in all of my times of need. Where I am weak, He is strong. Where I am found lacking, He provides everything I need. When life just makes me more tired, when my body fights itself leaving me exhausted and frustrated– He carries me, He ministers to my spirit– giving me rest.

God made us to need other people. For myself– that remains to be a double-edged sword.

This is what has been on my heart this week.

Maybe God will choose to heal me this year. Maybe He will enable me to better fight back against that invisible enemy that attacks my body. Maybe He will just continue to draw me nearer to Him. I have learned to be content with where I am, no matter how He answers my prayers and needs– have you?

If I’m not angry about my personal fight, what gives anyone the right to be angry with me about how I manage my personal fight?

After nearly 51 years of life, I’m tired.

Be kind. Pray. Don’t put expectations onto me–I will never be able to meet them. You have not walked my path, experienced the things I have, or fought the fight I deal with daily. Maybe you’ve heard things about me, taken out of context. If so, you are adding opinion to heresay.

How is that Godly?

I expect to receive the grace of Christ from my fellow Believers.

Are my expectations too high for you?

An Honest Perspective

Reflections

jem

Today is my birthday. I’m ?? years old– my Grandma always said “A lady never reveals her age.”

I’m feeling like– I made it! I survived! I feel a kind of rejunenation today.

Also tired.

I’m leaving an era behind me. My husband just retired from the military, and we’re moving into a new phase that I think we are both pretty excited about. I wish I had the same energy I had in my youth to do cartwheels and cheers. My mind is full of energy, but my body is on a whole other plateau.

My husband and I get to enjoy the fruits of our labor now– or soon, anyway. There are always hurdles and obstacles in our course. We’ve learned to weather some big, strongs storms– natural and figurative.

I find myself taking some serious deep breaths. I can let go of some of the heavy things I’ve carried over the years. I can let out that mental breath I’ve held for over 20 years as my husband was sent away from us for months at a time, waiting to find out the unknown, not anticipating the unexpected. I can start thinking about plans I’d like to make that we won’t have to change at the last minute.

I can start thinking about things I want to do.

That’s hard.

I’ve been mom, and military spouse for so long, I’ve tied most of my own interests into my family. My relationships with my kids and my husband have taken most of my energy and planning.

I have a new stage ahead of me that I get to set. I get to explore new things to find what I want to put on it.

I get to relearn, maybe even remake, who I am.

I’m still wife, mother and homeschool/violin teacher. But, now I can look around and add some other things that I want to. I’m not limited to what’s chosen for me, my plans aren’t laid out for me, I have a plethora options I didn’t have the freedom to choose before.

I have the benefit of hindsight, and the excitement of foresight.

I have so much to be thankful for to God, my husband and the military.

I haven’t felt a physical joy in a long time. It feels almost foreign to me as I feel it now– almost like that part of me is thawing out.

I’m genuinely looking forward to the next ?? years that God grants me to live.

Also– I have birthday pancakes made for me by one of my boys.

Life is good.

An Honest Perspective

Is Church Membership A Two-Way Street? 

jem

Over the past few years, my husband and I have gotten involved with several ministries. We’ve gone to churches or chapels. We’ve gone through membership classes, fulfilled membership requirements– jumped through those expected hoops…

Then we moved, as is the military way. We’ve lived Stateside twice, for a combined 3 1/2 year total of our 19 years of marriage and military life together. 

Church membership, in my understanding, is different than any other membership. We are already members of The Body of Christ. Does moving just dissolve the local church membership? It doesn’t for me.

I carry some deep-seated disappointment and hurt, I’ll be honest, from our last church membership. More than just moving unexpectedly.

I hoped to be embraced by the church community when we joined with them. It’s such a large community, I don’t even think people knew, or cared, that we decided to make that committment. No one outside of our small class of people welcomed us. We were allowed to go to the business meetings where they were transparent about using the tithes and offerings– but there was also the expectation for us to give– sometimes until it hurt as we trusted God– to support their ministries. 

To be fair, our first Christmas there, they gave us gift cards that added up to $200 for Walmart. We needed coats and winter clothing, coming from a tropical climate. We needed groceries, dealing with less money. It was humbling, and appreciated. But, there was no conversations with us, just someone handing us a card, and maybe a gift basket– I wish I could remember it better. I think it was outer appearance they judged our need on, because no one ever asked us anything, no one took time to hear what we all had going on.

While we were there, I got very sick. There were doctors visits, blood tests, exams, other tests– some very painful or uncomfortable. I had blood tests done over several years past that had problems revealed and recorded, but no one had ever told me or did tests to diagnose the causes. 

I wasn’t able to serve as my heart really wanted. I tried to communicate to leadership a couple times about my limitations and my need for prayer, but honestly– I never felt heard, and I did feel judged because of my lack of involvement, or needing to sit down when I tried to serve with the Thanksgiving ministry. 

On top of health concerns, we had one vehicle, new to us but on it’s last legs. Having spent the majority of our marriage living overseas, we had to start our household all over again. Taking that assignment also meant taking a pay-cut for my husband, and we owned nothing in the states. We had so many obstacles to overcome.

I went from driving on the left side of the car and road, to the right, slow speeds to fast, terrifying highways… Driving anywhere was an enormous stress, scared I’d wreck our only car, nervous I’d drive on the wrong side of the road or get confused… I was a wreck!! 

The church environment was one unlike I had ever really experienced. Instead of any type of an outreach for people new to the area, there was this expectation that we just “jump in.” 

I was overwhelmed– entirely.

I was scared about my health– at one point I honestly thought I might be dying. 

I was drowning just trying to stay afloat and maneuver this new, kind of cold, environment.

Thank God I have a healthy marriage!! 

My husband and I were quick to try to jump into music ministry, as we have everywhere we are, as much as we could. Even that was a new experience– from having to audition, to figuring how to fit my music skill into a completely new dynamic– it started on a high note, but faltered completely by the time God decided to surprise us and move us on. We were actually looking into buying a home and settling there, but God had different plans for us.

I’m not a very social face-to-face person, and I found it incredibly difficult to find even one close friend.  I tried over and over. I met so many nice people at that church, and I did find friends through our writing group outside of the church we were at. But, in the church I felt like I was held an arm’s length away by most people. They were polite, and extremely helpful in so many ways– I love the people. But no one asked about me. No one asked how I was adjusting. No one was interested at all in things I had experienced living in another nation, or as a military spouse, or even as a Veteran.

I was surrounded by so much activity, so much joy– I don’t think I’ve ever felt lonelier.

Overwhelmed, I tried to give all I could, but the more I didn’t get back, the more my attitude about having to jump through hoops that I honestly wasn’t able to jump through soured.

After months of medical tests, including 2 different MRI’s, a full body x-ray, some horrible test of my nerves that I couldn’t even finish– my main doctor gave me a partial diagnosis– some rare, unnamed immune disease I was born with but didn’t know I had. 

My whole life I’ve fought to overcome this tiredness that I learned was actually a physical fatigue. Daily life wears me out. Interacting with people, especially in groups, often leaves me feeling overwhelmed and exhausted– sometimes to the point of tears.

I remember, over 20 years ago, crying out to God during a time I was dealing with fatigue, He spoke into my spirit– “I will bring friends to you. I will bring ministry opportunities to you. You can rest in Me.”

So, I waited on the Lord, and He has been so wonderful to me!

He brought my husband *to* me. He brought a new career and love of teaching violin *to* me. He brought me ministry opportunities and friends who really know me *to* me through various online avenues.

The church we left was a place I had to go to to exert myself in ways that left me not just depleted of energy, but empty emotionally. It wasn’t a refuge– not for me, anyway. 

The small group setting was really nice and friendly, but when it was over, most people there moved on and forgot about me. Not everyone, but most.

The church is there for ministry– even for its own members. I needed to be ministered to, I needed what the people weren’t equipped to provide. I felt no one cared. Even when I asked for prayer. Since we moved nearly 2 years ago, not one of the leaders has kept in real contact with us or inquired after us in anyway. There is no interaction over Facebook at all, no messages– nothing. 

We became members, but they never joined with us. 

I will say, 3 or 4 of the members still interact with us, and I am so thankful we’ve stayed in contact. They are truly amazing people.

There is an expectation that as Christians we should just be able to stand on our own, to fit into those premade “molds” everyone *has* to fit in. But, I don’t. So then– what? I’m just on my own because I don’t meet the expected standards? 

Will church leaders ever stop to assess the damage caused to members through expectations and standards? Will they begin to look for each individual’s best interest here on earth, as we participate and join together to be about our Father’s business?

One can only hope.