Lenten Project: Day Forty

It's the close of Lent.  Now it's Easter.  Time to look forward, and rejoice in Hope.

Easter 2012, Messiah Lutheran Church, Mauldin, SC

I've learned and grown through these forty days of my Lenten discipline.  I've faced my failures, admitted my faults, remembered joys, and rejoiced in memories.  Looking back to where I've come and comparing my old self to who I am now, I know I have a ways to go on my journey of life.  But there's good in affirming how much has changed in me since I was a child.

I might still doubt sometimes.  When I do, I run to the cross, dip my fingers in the holy water, and remind myself of my baptism.  I still fail my kids in this mothering business. When that happens, I try to treat them with respect, apologise when I'm wrong, and model repentance to them.  I still have flashbacks and occasionally have a hard time talking about episodes from my past.  But that doesn't mean I shouldn't talk.

I'll keep on talking because over the course of this Lenten Project, I've received numerous messages, emails, texts, and comments from people who have been helped though my telling my story.  There are universal elements, things with which people identify, in each of my posts, stuff that unites us all in this human journey.  This blog series has sparked numerous positive conversations, inspired reconciliations, and reminded others of the Hope we have in Christ.  There have been horrifying stories recalled, funny episodes related, and lots of in between, just-tell-it-like-it-is kinds of posts.  I hope my Lenten Project has been a blessing to you, and I invite you to stick around for future posts.  I don't intend to stop.

Join the Conversation

Which post has been your favourite these past forty days?

Did you have any interesting conversations or revived memories that my posts have sparked?  I'd love to hear about them!

Please subscribe via the little box on the right, so you can be informed when I post again (it won't be everyday, though, I promise you!  Way too stressful!).

Lenten Project: Fourth Fearless Friday

My family is a modern, blended family, and it is beautiful.

Divorce is never a wonderful thing.  It's brokenness embodied. But the fact that something lovely has grown out of something so tragic is amazing and should be celebrated.

When I got divorced in 2012, I honestly never dreamed I would be married again so soon. But the hand of Providence is so clearly evident in the forming (and reforming) of my family.  It's been a long time getting to where we are now, and grace and redemption have brought us to a level of restoration that wouldn't be possible without our faith.

When I remarried and moved from South Carolina to Washington, DC, my ex-husband moved back to his parents' house in North Carolina, taking our son with him. Originally, we'd agreed to have him stay in Greenville so our son could finish out the year in his school (I didn't want too much upheaval all at once for the little guy). That plan got changed suddenly when my ex informed me he was moving, barely a week before it happened.  I wasn't pleased at all, but we found a way to compromise temporarily.  Then, we started fighting over what the next years would bring, and it was not pretty. There were threats, a restraining order, lawyers, depositions, court dates, angry phone calls, and lots of tears and grief, until, finally, I quit fighting.  I was weary and getting more and more broken with every frustrated and blocked attempt of getting my way. And I knew that my child would look back someday to see the fights and the bitter feelings between his parents, and it would not make him feel more secure or loved.

If I truly believe in the sovereignty of God, I have to accept that, whatever the past mistakes that were made, this is where we're at now, and I need to find creative ways to nurture life, not speak death.  So I stopped fighting the status quo and instead looked forward, trying to love my son and make him confident of his security in his family, even though it is spread out and a little different than the norm.

It's not been easy, let me assure you.  I still fight with my ex sometimes (a hallmark of our tempestuous marriage, I'm sure!).  We're both saddled with astronomical debts to lawyers, and I honestly don't know we'll pay them.  I hope God will provide, somehow.  But we try to resolve things with our son in mind now.  It isn't a game to see which parent wins and who is the loser.  Because when fighting happens, our child is the loser.  And I don't want that.

Currently, my son lives with his dad in North Carolina, where he is close to graduating from Kindergarten.  Maybe he'll attend a great DC school in the future, but for now, I get him about every other weekend and on school holidays.  Sometimes he comes here, and other times we drive down to my in-laws' place in NC, a couple hours from where my ex and son now live, since we like to visit them a lot.  And there're always the Skype calls!

These have turned into Lego builds via Skype calls.  We line our computer screens up just right,
and we can watch each other make awesome things, giving suggestions, and telling stories while we do it.

My husband is also divorced, and has a son. He shares custody with an ex who lives just 20 minutes from us, and we get to have that son a lot more often.  I coordinate school pickups and dropoffs with my stepson's mother, and we all work hard to get along.  We're friendly to one another, and no, it was not always like that!

I still can hardly believe, when I think of the antagonism we've all lived in for so long, that we are actually friends now, all working together for the sake of our children.  It's hard to thrive when you're filled with resentment, someone told me recently, and it's so very true.

Being a stepmom is tough.  It's made even more difficult when the son I birthed is so far away in a different state most of the time.  Add in a new baby, and you'd think my affections would be varied for each of my kids, right?  But the miraculous reality is, I love all of my children an infinite amount.  It amazes me.  Sure, it can be tiring at times. I maintain the custody calendar to coordinate the rotation of two different boys between three separate sets of parents, in three states!  My son has pretty severe ADHD, my stepson is four (with all the struggles and hardships that come with being four), and I'm exclusively breastfeeding, babywearing, and cloth diapering a five month old daughter! But it's so worth it, because my kids know they are loved, and we, their parents, have worked hard to create a safe space in our family. We are Lutheran, Episcopal, and non-denom/Baptist, and all of us to are good parents to our kids, committed to raising them in the faith, even as our family grows.

Of course, with an unconventional family like mine, we don't grow in the usual ways!  My stepson's mom got remarried last year, so now there's a new stepdad (whose name is the same as my son's, so we tack "Big" in front of his name to differentiate), and they coincidentally had a baby girl same time as my daughter was born. The girls were born literally days apart.  So my stepson has two half-sisters!

My ex just got engaged to be married to a divorcee with four kids, so there will soon be lots of step-siblings for my son.  We've got step-siblings and half-siblings coming out our ears! But it's so beautiful.

This Christmas, we went to the National Zoo for ZooLights, and most of the family was there, minus my ex, who had to work.  On Christmas Day, my son's father came and celebrated with us together as a family.  Birthday parties have been combined family endeavours. I hope we can have lots more of these blended family events where we're all together.  Maybe it looks a little weird, but in the long run, I think it paints a beautiful picture of restoration and reconciliation.

One really great "side-effect" to sharing custody of our sons with their other parents is that we don't have them all the time.  Yup, that's right, I celebrate that fact!  It means I get to be a mother of three, yet still enjoy bonding with my husband, and, with my newborn, in a way that a newlywed and then first-time parent enjoys.  I get to go grocery shopping with only one kid to wrangle!  It is certainly a luxury I don't take for granted.

Join the conversation

In what ways have you seen relationships restored in an unusual or surprising way in your life?
Do you have broken relationships with people with whom you wish you could pursue peace?
If you aren't there yet (and that's okay--it takes time to heal; believe me, I know!), in what ways do you save the space for them, in hope of a reconciliation in the future?

I ask, because there are still people in my extended family who refuse to repair the broken gap, and I need encouragement to not give up on them.

Lenten Project: Third Fearless Friday

In late 2011, I left Sovereign Grace Church and started visiting different churches, sometimes two or three on a single Sunday.  I was thirsty, seeking...something. I just didn't know what.

I was depressed, discouraged, my marriage was all but over, but I knew there had to be something out there.  Something greater.  Something that wasn't just a rock concert at church, or a one-man show in the pulpit, or a guilt-fest in every sermon, or a legalistic show window.

Ann Schaefer with Hannah, 1983

My beloved grandmother had long reminded me to seek God first, and assured me everything else would become plainer with time.  But I didn't really know how to do that.  In my background of works, works, works, I didn't know how to let God speak for Himself.  I grew up trying to define God down to the very last characteristic, leaving nothing to Divine mystery.  My grandmother was always patient with me when we talked, answering question upon question about Lutheranism, different kinds of wine, and the best way to pack a suitcase.

With her encouragement, I decided to visit a Lutheran church near my house.  With that first visit, I knew I was home.

I posted to Facebook as soon as the service was over.

Everything was different, and yet so familiar, about the service.  I couldn't find the right page during the Kyrie or Sanctus, but I had several of the hymns memorised.  I didn't know when to cross myself, when to kneel, when to stand, when to say, "Amen."  But the Lord's Prayer was a comfort to me.  The Scripture reading confirmed what is true: the Gospel is preached in the Lutheran church.  There's no escaping it.

I didn't understand what the colours meant, or what the pastor's vestments signified, or why things were done in the order they were done.  I marveled at the Eucharist (I still marvel at the Eucharist, every. single. time.)  But I embraced it all.

I discovered new, and yet so old, Creeds.  Made me wonder why BJU had reinvented the wheel by creating a new one (which leaves important stuff out, too!).  I followed the lead of the woman in front of me and dipped my fingers in the water of the baptismal font on my way out.  Here was a physical reminder that I was always God's child, always held close, always beloved.

And that's the story of how I came home to Sacramental, liturgical Christianity.

What's your story?  How did you end up where you've ended up?  Is there someone who was a positive influence for you?

Lenten Project: Day Two

You've probably seen the news about a pregnant mother, Ebony Wilkerson, who drove her van full of kids into the ocean.  My Facebook feed is filled with posts and reposts, some offering compassion, most offering judgement.  If you go to the news articles online, the comments sections are horrifyingly filled with calls for the woman to be "locked up, and throw away the key," or for her kids to be taken away from her, or for her sterilisation, since "people like her shouldn't get to be parents."

All I can feel for her is sadness. It seems obvious that she was under the influence of a serious illness when she did this. I feel this sadness profoundly, because I am an Ebony.

Next, 2010

In the Spring of 2010, I attended Sovereign Grace's NEXT Conference in Baltimore.  With my sister Joanna, I rode the packed-full chartered bus from Greenville, SC, to the conference center.  Almost immediately upon setting out in the very early morning, I started miscarrying a baby.  It was my third miscarriage.

At that point, I was in the early stages of severe postpartum depression, brought on by my son self-weaning a couple months before.  I had sunk deep enough into my depression that my libido was completely gone.  For several months, I'd been saying no.  Thus, when I began miscarrying, I was shocked.  Somewhere along the way, consent lines had been crossed, and I couldn't even remember it!  I knew that my marriage was not a safe place, but I hadn't understood how unsafe till then.

The shock and sudden grief of discovering an unexpected pregnancy, only to simultaneously realise that the precious little life I'd unknowingly carried was already gone pushed me over the edge.  I was pretty depressed, but that event caused me to totally lose my will to live.  The next day, after settling in the hotel and attending a couple conference sessions, I wasn't at all better.  The bleeding had stopped, but it seemed my heart was hemorrhaging.

That afternoon, I attempted to step out into heavy rushing traffic in downtown Baltimore, right by the Inner Harbor.  My sister Joanna stopped me.  She didn't know exactly what my intentions were, but she could tell that something wasn't right, even though I wouldn't talk to her about it.  She stuck to my side, as only an annoying little sister can do, making sure I didn't try to hurt myself anymore.

In the evening, before the conference session (if I remember correctly, it was on Scripture, by Kevin DeYoung), one of the young men who came with our church group approached me and told me he felt led to pray over me.  Perhaps he'd noticed how I stared blankly at the ships in the harbor while at dinner.  I'd been wishing I could swim underneath those ships and intentionally fill my lungs with harbor water.  Maybe he just felt a leading from the Lord.  I don't know.  What I do know is that when he prayed, a peace came over me.  I knew that I would make it back home to Greenville alive.

I didn't know that I'd continue this struggle with postpartum depression for quite some time, or that I'd have to take medicine to feel half-way normal again.  I couldn't have imagined that my marriage would simply disintegrate and end up having heavy consequences that I'd have to live with forever.  I didn't realise that I'd keep my lost baby a secret till today, when Ebony's story would prompt me to tell mine.

What I did know was that I had hope for the next day.  That's it.  Just a day's worth of hope.  And I kept getting days' worths at a time, until, in October of 2010, I got that theme tattooed on my arm.

Ironically, I was required to cut off my NEXT 2010 wristband in order to give the tattoo artist access to my whole arm.  I felt as though I were cutting away the darkness of that past and fixing my eyes on the future, with my daily allotment of hope.

The rest of the story is crazy and imperfect and quite a winding tale (other parts of which I may yet blog about during this Lenten project), but suffice it to say, my ex-husband and I have reconciled, as much as a divorced pair of people can be, and have both affirmed our forgiveness for each other many times, for many different failings on both our parts.  I talked to him before even posting this, because I respect him enough to not want to be heartless and unkind to him anymore.  My past is my story.  I can only tell what I experienced.

However, the point is that I now look at my past through the lens of hope.  That hope gave me time to heal, time to grow, time and distance to learn to forgive.

PPD sucks.  I know how Ebony feels.  Abuse is horrible (and there's some indication from news sources that she may have been experiencing that as well).  Loss is terrible.  But there can still be forgiveness and healing.  There is still hope in redemption.  Hope for tomorrow.

If you or someone you know is acting strangely soon after having a baby or weaning, please know that there is hope.  You can't feel it, but it's there, waiting for you.  Please let someone know that you need help.  Talk to your doctor, a neighbour, a friend from church or your community, or contact someone at Postpartum Support International.  You are not alone.

Blogging through Lent

Ash Wednesday, 2013

This year, inspired by this post, I plan to intentionally slow down and reflect during Lent.   I'd like to learn to pray without self consciousness, to kneel without triggering flashbacks, to genuflect without the inner habitual accusation of idolatry.  I've talked in the past about why it's difficult for me, and I intend to continue that conversation, to explore my past with the goal of fixing what is broken, from my spiritual walk to relationships.  This world is so broken, and many Christians, including myself, aren't pursuing redemption or restoration.  I don't desire to wallow in the broken spaces of my past, but rather, honestly remember where I have been, who I have been, with a goal of resolving the unresolved, repenting and being restored, seeking out those with whom relationships are broken, so that I can joyfully and humbly move forward.

I hope to honestly retell the stories of my past, so I can learn from them.  I'll talk about my childhood as a missionary kid, my upbringing as a Fundamentalist, my years at Bob Jones University, and possibly even my time in Sovereign Grace Ministries.  All these periods of my life hold negative connotations for me, and I plan to meet those stories head on, challenge myself to own them, and come out the other side a better person, not consumed with bitterness or anger.

Not everything in my past is all doom and gloom, however.  My mother rightly reminded me that I have a lot of happy memories, too.  So Fridays during Lent are designated "Fearless Fridays," where I will recall and retell a positive story.  Sundays, also, will be "Silent Sundays," and I will not have a new blog post on those days.  Instead, Sundays are to be completely devoted to the Lord's Day, and social media will be avoided.

I invite you to follow along in my Lenten journey this year.  Challenge me and be my companion as I remember and grow.  Starting on Ash Wednesday, check back here every day for a new post.