Faith Doesn't Mean Not Feeling

As I've discussed in previous blogs, I believe everything happens for a reason, even when we can't see it. God knows what's best for us. As my pastor put it during yesterday's sermon, "God wants more for us than we want for ourselves." That being said, I can't count the number of times that I've been sad, angry, or upset, and when venting to a Christian friend have been told "You just have to have faith."

And this, friends and neighbors, generally just upsets me more. I understand that the sentiment is well-intentioned. The speaker wants to remind me that He is taking care of things. But the hidden implication of this unassuming phrase is that if I just had more faith, I wouldn't feel these feelings. And on that, I call shenanigans.

When I've been turned down for jobs in the past, I've always known that it meant something better was on the way. But that didn't mean I wasn't disappointed that what I wanted isn't what's actually best for me. When M was diagnosed with her heart condition, I knew that what was meant to happen would happen. But that doesn't mean I'd have been any less devastated if what was meant to be had been my losing her. Knowing a loved one is with God when they pass doesn't mean you can't be sad for the loss of their presence. My brother-in-law's grandfather (who was also the pastor of their church for quite some time) passed almost exactly a year ago, very unexpectedly. The family was happy that he was with God, but there were still tears from them and from the congregation. That's only normal.

Sometimes this sentiment stretches even further, to a spiritually dangerous conclusion. On one of my mommy forums, a woman posted about a friend of hers who had chronic pain. This friend had back problems, and found difficulty in working and in caring for her children. The poster was a Christian (the friend, from what I read, was not), and she was of the opinion that it was her friend's own fault because "If she would just pray every day, she would be in perfect health." The poster further opined that the fact that she herself did not have any chronic illnesses or pain could be attributed to the fact that she had faith. And, extrapolating further, if you do have those issues, it's because you don't have enough faith.

Paul suffered. Job suffered. Jesus himself suffered and paid a dear price to take our sins. Sometimes we need struggles and trials to get us where we need to be, in life, or in spirit. If M didn't have her heart condition, I wouldn't be organizing a non-profit that has the potential to help hundreds of families every year. If I didn't suffer from depression and anxiety, I wouldn't have been able to help friends who are similarly situated. Some of my greatest suffering has led to my most positive traits, and the best things in my life.

All of this is a really long way of me saying something very simple: feel your feelings. Express them, work through them. Deal with them in a healthy way, certainly, and trust that God is leading you in the right direction. But it is OK to take a minute to be human.

"Never do anything when you are in a temper, for you will do everything wrong." ~Baltasar Gracian

I have a daily devotion app that gives me a verse and some thoughts on that verse every morning and every evening. Yesterday’s was “Don’t sin by letting anger control you. Think about it overnight and remain silent” (Psalm 4:4). This verse is particularly dear to me, as I do put in a great deal of effort to ensure that I control my temper, and not the other way around. I know that a moment’s release when I’m upset is not worth the hurt I could cause someone else. My philosophy is that if I’m yelling, I’m no longer in control. As a slight control freak who still sometimes struggles with even giving my issues over to God, that’s not ok with me. I’ve been around people who spew anger all over everyone like a negativity-breathing dragon. They lash out, claws extended, with no thought as to who they hit. I can’t be like that. I won’t. To that end, I’ve only actually yelled once in about 19 years. Not that it excuses my behavior, but it was while I was hugely pregnant and house hunting. My poor husband.

It seemed like an even more appropriate verse later that evening. I took M to a local park after I picked her up last night so that my sister (who is an AMAZING photographer) could take pictures of her with her cousins. I didn’t think to bring a snack, so when we had to leave, my 22-pound teeny tiny toddler erupted into a hangry fit. She backed away when I tried to pick her up to put her in the car, shaking her head and saying “No!” I picked her up, and she smacked me in the face. I told her that I understood she was angry, but we do not hit mommy. So she began smacking her arms and saying “Hit ‘syou!” (Hit “it’s you” – which is how she refers to herself). I told her she shouldn’t hit herself either, and she calmed down after a minute. Then, when I informed her that she needed to eat some dinner before she could have “ice cream” (blended bananas with vanilla and cinnamon), a chorus of angry “No! No! No! No!” ensued, followed by crying. I ignored the yelling in the backseat, and a few minutes later she began a new conversation with “Airplanes fly – way up there!” and was fine the rest of the way home.

Later, as we wound down for bedtime, she said to me “angry” and clapped her hands. I told her yes, we get angry sometimes. I explained that she can’t hit or kick, but she can clap her hands really hard if she feels like hitting, or she can say, “I’m angry!” She found that fairly amusing. I know she doesn’t get it all yet, but I think it’s so important to raise a child with a high “EQ” (emotional intelligence) and the ability to channel her feelings in a productive, or at least harmless, manner.

I didn’t think about it anymore until I read this article this morning before work. I felt sick. A four-year-old girl is dead – shot in front of her father and brother. And for what? Because someone got angry while they were driving and didn’t bother to make the attempt to curb their rage. Let’s take this apart. First of all, I know everyone gets annoyed when they drive. Unlike walking in a group of people, there’s no “sorry” forthcoming when someone accidentally cuts you off. No ability in some situations to go around if someone is being slow. And I get that. But unless you’re driving someone who’s bleeding to death to the hospital, chances are you say a few choice words and get on with your day (my favorites are “jeepers creepers!” and “son of a monkey!” if I say any at all).

How does anyone justify violence based on being inconvenienced for a few moments because of another person’s driving? How does that make sense to anyone? I can’t even understand having a heated confrontation over it, much less firing a gun into an occupied vehicle. I imagine the thought process, if there is one, is “this person did something I don’t like, so I’m going to punish them.”

Well, congratulations, Mr. Torrez. You’ve punished him.  Because you were upset about being inconvenienced for a few minutes, he will be in unimaginable pain for the rest of his life, as will his family, including his 7-year-old son who will likely be in treatment for PTSD for a large chunk of his life. A beautiful baby girl, gone. Because you didn’t think. Because you didn’t exercise self-control. Because you decided that a gun is a great way to solve problems. (No, I’m not trying to start a gun rights debate here – although I will say that if he hadn’t had one, Lilly would still be alive. I’m all for gun owner rights, but saying that they’re no worse than a knife – which is an argument I’ve heard – is truly ludicrous.)

When I think about controlling my anger, I generally think about not hurting others with my words. Teaching my daughter to think before she reacts. I saw it as very important, but didn’t think about it much. But if this story shows me anything, it’s that self-control is one of the most important things we can teach our children. It could save a life.

To the person who stole my catalytic converter

I'm guessing you've done this before, given that I'm not the first person this has happened to (nor was I the only one last night - there were at least 5 of us). You saw cars you could easily get a part off of. Cars that were empty. And you took those parts, ostensibly to sell to shady scrap yards who take these things, despite knowing that no one just has 5 catalytic converters on their hands for legitimate reasons.

But let me tell you what you didn't see. You didn't see me stumble out of work, sick from some ridiculous virus and in pain from an ovarian cyst that's large enough to exhaust me, but not enough to be removed. You didn't see that it was an effort just to walk to the car, and that all I wanted was to go home and rest. Maybe even go to bed early. You didn't see that my husband and I have varying schedules next week, and will be scrambling to rearrange things so we can drive together.

You didn't see me picking up my toddler two hours late from the sitter's, at a time when she should have already been in bed. She's also getting over a virus, and needs all the sleep she can get. You didn't see the mountain of medical bills we have from her open heart surgery and my autoimmune disorder. You didn't see our mortgage or my crushing student loan debt, all of which are going to make it an extremely tight squeeze to try to replace the part without making some big sacrifices. You didn't see that my daughter's birthday is coming up, and we probably won't be able to get her as much as we wanted to - as much as she deserves - because of this. You didn't see that my food bill is higher because I have Celiac and need to eat gluten free.

You didn't see that I am the kind of person who tries to see the good in everyone, and to help anyone I can. You didn't see that this kind of thing breaks my heart because I'm having a very hard time coming up with a decent excuse for your behavior. 

You probably think I'm angry, if you even think of me at all, which, I honestly doubt. And I was. I am extremely slow to anger, but I was furious. I can't maintain that for long, though - your actions are not worth my peace of mind. So let me tell you what I'm going to do - I'm going to pray for you.

If you needed the money for an honorable cause, I pray that you soon find yourself in a place where you have a legitimate means to provide for your needs.

If you stole it because you are a drug addict and needed more, I pray that you face your addiction and get some help before it destroys you.

If you stole it because your friends are a bad influence (there had to be at least 2 of you), I pray that you see your own worth and find better friends who will elevate you - not bring you down with them.

If you stole it because you never learned any better from your parents, I pray you learn to let go of their poor example and start accepting responsibility for your current actions.

Above all, I pray you come to Christ and are able to turn your life around because this is no way to live.

No One Wants to Read This One

I'll be perfectly honest - I don't even want to write this one. But I feel convicted to do so, and have for days. I've been trying to ignore it, but it's not going away. I'm likely to upset people on both sides of this issue with my thoughts, and for that, I apologize. I'd also like to give a trigger warning for anyone who wants to avoid reading about abortion.

I'll start with my stance: I am pro-choice, and anti-abortion. I know, I know - what the heck is that supposed to mean?

I am not and cannot be ok with abortion. I told my husband the day my daughter was conceived that I was pregnant. When a test a week later came back negative, I told him it was wrong. A week later, I got the positive result. She was there. I knew she was there. And as much as I tend to be very much steeped in scientific backup for my views, she was a baby even then. My baby. From the second I knew I was pregnant, she was my baby. Clump of cells though she may have been, I loved her. And this, of course, is where I tick off the side that supports abortion. I believe a baby is a baby as soon as those cells start dividing. When I had a miscarriage at just a few weeks, I sobbed. I considered that losing a baby. Nothing in the world can back me up on that assertion. And a lot of people may think my reaction was ridiculous. To each their own. But I can't condone abortion because I do believe it is killing a baby. And I could never do it.

But here's where I tick off the other half of the equation. I have no idea in the world what it's like to be raped. To be robbed of your sense of security. No idea what it's like to be sexually assaulted by a family member. To experience such a heinous betrayal of trust. And then, to compound that awful trauma, to have a reminder growing inside of me every day. To know that a part of my attacker, my abuser, the monster who did this to me, is literally attached to me. There are three choices if this happens: abort, give the baby up for adoption, or keep the baby.

If you give the baby up for adoption, you run the risk of your child growing up feeling unwanted because you gave him or her up, and they don't know why. If you keep the baby, you may be re-traumatized on a regular basis if your child has the face of your abuser. Your significant other may not understand your keeping the baby, and you may lose your relationship with them. And in both circumstances, the child may find out how they came to be. May be traumatized themselves by their origin.

Now, in my case, I'd still do one of those. But I say that knowing that I have no idea what either is like. No idea how broken I might become from the constant reminder of the trauma, either by the child's presence, or by knowing they may someday find me and have questions I don't want to answer. I have never walked in those shoes, and pray that I never have to. That my daughter never has to. And I believe that unless you have been in those shoes, you cannot judge, as much as you may want to.

Back to upsetting the fully pro-choice segment, I will say that it upsets me to no end when people use abortion as birth control. Take a pill, use a condom, abstain. Once the child is conceived, you can give it up for adoption. Yes, I understand that it will change your body and it will never go back to normal. And there is always the chance that you'll become attached when it's born and decide to keep it. It's a very messy thing. But I can't condone avoiding the consequences of your own actions by depriving the world of a child that may be destined for great things.

Finally, if you are going to be anti-abortion, you need to be active in supporting these women. I don't mean protesting. I don't mean reminding them that their child at a certain week has a heartbeat. I don't mean posting videos of late term abortions to shock people into a reaction. I mean real support. Volunteer at a rape crisis center. If a friend becomes pregnant and isn't sure if they're happy about it, be a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. Foster. Adopt. Donate to causes that help with all of the above. Some people don't realize they really do have a choice, and it's time we started stepping up to show them.