Focusing Leaders teaches that Life Crisis are what God uses to refine us. When we are supposed to grow the most. An exercise we do is to think over our lives and try to remember when we went through things that felt like death.
As I think I start to realize: Goodness gracious. I was sure boy crazy! I wore my heart on my sleeve. Was such a passionate person. The first times that "felt like death" have been relationships where I had fallen hopelessly in love. Here's a few of the biggest smalll deaths:
1. The summer before 12th grade, I fell for a hunky handsome guy at camp and we started a long distance relationship. At the end of the summer, my folks let me go with a friend up north to visit his family. But, soon after school started, he stopped writing for weeks. I went on a hunger fast for 10 days waiting to hear from him. Spent a lot of time listening to Jennifer Warnes SHOT THROUGH THE HEART album: "I'm Restless." Finally got a letter from him. He ended the relationship. I never heard from him again.
2. After meeting this great Godly guy who was visiting my college for a week or so, he shared his feelings for me, stayed an extra week, showed up at my work (Disneyland), captured my heart, then went back home. We corresponded over the summer and I was smitten. When he came back to attend the same college the next year, he was my friend - a great friend - but couldn't explain why his heart was platonic toward me. I learned over the next 2 years that there were other gal(s?) who were concurrently having the same confusing relationships with him. As friends, I wrested with my affections for him for a long time, and he occassionally would lead me on as if the relationship had a chance of becoming more than friends. God, I loved him and wanted to be with him. He was this moody, mysterious, tall, dark and handsome older guy. Jane Olivor's music, esp. "Come in From the Rain" spoke my heart those days. I worked those years trying to kill my heart & feelings. Be a faithful loyal friend. Be a cheerleader. Deny passion. Control.
There was this riddle he found during those years that expressed our friendship:
My circle circles your circle
Only showing part of me
On your leash I flee forever
Never touching, never free.
I got good at control. Too good. He joined the military. We corresponded a bit. When he called out of the blue a year later, only 2 weeks after I'd accepted Jim's proposal, I dispassionately told him that I was engaged. He sent one last letter. Included the name "Everywhere I Go" from Amy Grant's Unguarded album. She must have had a similar relationship. Later in her album Heart in Motion she sang, "I Will Remember You" which always brings him to my mind. There is a custom at the end of South African weddings where the bride and groom turn to the audience and wave to them. It signifies that you are saying goodbye to all your former attachments. This is a good custom. My old friend and I spoke over the phone only once since both of us were married. We decided that since life is short and heaven is eternal, we'll have plenty of time on the other side to catch up. No sense rocking the boat with our spouses (or ourselves) while we as the Apostle Paul says, "see through a glass dimly" in this life. It was a bit strange, but very okay to say, "I'll see you later." (meaning "in heaven") when we hung up.
3. The summer between my Sophomore and Junior years of university, I fell in love in Paris, and had a wonderful Christmas in Connecticut with a musician I'd met in France. He came to spend the next summer with me in California. We wanted to be together the summer before our Senior year of college. I'd been confused the spring semester when my heart was drawn toward others I'd go out with "just for fun," because we'd said we would go out with others, and not be "exclusive" when we lived so far away. Why would my heart be fickle when I loved being with him so much, knew he was such a great guy, and when he was being so loyal to me? I thought his coming would fix this problem, but When he arrived at my doorstep, I wasn't happy to see him. In fact, I was (I hate to say this now, even though it's 23 years later), I was repulsed by him. What was wrong with me? I tried to "shake it off" as I introduced him to the people in my life. I was in a tailspin and I shared it with my parents, they were willing to pay for him to fly home. I broke up with him, and spent the first month of the summer sobbing all the time. How could I break someone's heart who is good? Especially when I knew how awful it was to be on his end of a break up. I was a horrible person. The Proverb "The heart is deceitful and beyond cure, who can understand it?" became a core conviction. I got no answers or help to work through this and my emotions, my heart of hearts went into deep freeze that summer.
(I'm only now learning to stop wondering about these experiences, and start asking God, "What were you trying to teach me through these experiences? I still have few answers.)
The only really HEART FELT emotions that would bring tears to my eyes in the following 10 years or so, were frustration, anger and resentment. The other feelings of love and attachment were really on the surface. Sad. In those 10 years is when I met, and married my wonderful husband Jim, started a great life together with him, had many adventures, went through infertility, and made a lot of friends, but somehow, I'd protected myself from pain of loss by not caring deeply for anyone. Or at least not feeling like I did.
4. In 2000 we'd moved to Singapore, and I was having a difficult time adjusting to life here, was lonely, frustrated and, though undiagnosed at the time, had fallen into depression. I just couldn't dig myself out of an emotional black hole, and God seemed silent. One day, feeling particularly out of control and alone, I kept Tyler back from school to keep me company. To be my partner in trying to get some things done. To accompany me as I took some steps toward checking "to do's" off the list and not get panicky in the throngs of strangers I'd have to encounter in the process. We walked to the Tampines Mall where I could do some banking, visit the post office, buy some groceries, etc. While in line at the bank I asked Tyler if he knew where the post office was. We'd passed it on our way there, and the line was about 40 people long. I thought perhaps if he stood in line there while I finished up at the bank, then we could get home faster. He said he knew where it was and went ahead. A short while later, I got to the post office and Tyler wasn't anywhere to be found. I retraced my steps to the bank in case we'd passed each other. He wasn't there. I went back down the street to the post office and, in a panic, called out to the room full of people, "Has anyone seen a little blonde boy? I've lost my 7 year old son." People just stared at me, shaking their heads. I called Jim on the cell phone. A while later a woman approached me on the sidewalk. She said she'd seen a little blonde boy standing in line at the Singapore Telecom building across the street.... I found him. He didn't know he'd gone to the wrong building. I was a rattled mess. It was as crazy as I've ever felt. Jim left work immediately to come home. I don't remember what happened the rest of the day. I probably pulled myself together to meet Cameron's bus from nursery school and made lunch and dinner and did some laundry and ironing.
I never cried about this until writing it out just now. What a terrible day that was. My 8 year old Cameron, reaches over to stroke my head and comfort me as I relate the story to him. "Bet you never saw me cry over the fear of losing one of you boys have you? I really love you guys!" I sob. He's a natural caregiver. He spends the rest of the day scolding his older brother for going to the wrong building that day 6 years ago...
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