Who Gets the Millstone....Hold the Coats or Protect the Innocent

“If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea."

I had an epiphany today....

I’m listening to a presentation and just learned about the Boys and Girls Club of America having been involved in child sexual abuse for many years now. Tragic, but I always wondered…. 

Anyway, I realized that I tend to be naive… I trust the “system” too much… although that is probably a thing of the past now.

Here is my big reveal: In 1989, when it was discovered that two of my children along with many others, were being molested by our trusted Sunday school teacher and his wife and likely another, I trusted the system to bring justice to my family, my friends, and our church. This is not the place for details, but after riveting and convincing testimony by the children and the longest and costliest criminal trial in San Diego history, the abuser was acquitted in 1993. I could not wrap my mind around it. I still can’t.

To add insult to injury, he turned around and brought a civil suit to the church which made him a millionaire …. for molesting our children. Let that sink in.

My American justice system had failed us miserably. I have mourned and grieved for this for so many years… I have blamed it on the abuser and the media (who made these children and families a laughingstock.)

 
But today…. It occurred to me that the church had failed us as well and in the worst way. Stay with me on this…. I could be wrong - but I don’t think so. As a pastor’s daughter and wife for MOST of my life, I trusted the church “system” - until I didn’t. And that is now. 

At a time when the local and global church (this was national news) could have wrapped its arms around us all, they made improvements to the childcare/Sunday School area and then proceeded to let us all dangle as fools in front of the world. 

The “why” of it is what hit me tonight. The church was protecting its “good name.” The church calculatedly distanced itself from the victims and families who believed them. When push came to shove the “higher ups” denied that anything happened and even one lied on the stand and said nothing happened (after 4 years earlier telling me personally after examining one of my children that something “definitely” happened of a sexual nature.) A few years later, he committed suicide. 

So, the epiphany is that my local church, while I always thought we were the bride of Christ, hung back, held the coats, and watched while the world stoned our lambs.

The question is.... who gets the millstone around their neck?

More of How it is or Here I am Choosing Joy Again

 So... ya know that last thing I wrote about slowing down.... changing directions... choosing joy again? Remember the thing about the blood? Well, something has come into my life that I never expected.  It's the "C" word. I have been diagnosed with a very early stage of uterine/endometrial cancer. As I understand it, it is the "good" kind of cancer to have. If found early (like mine) they should be able to yank all of my girlie parts out and take the cancer with it. 

Before you go feeling sorry for me - please know this: I am not fearful AT ALL. I truly am at perfect peace. I know God has control. Staying here on earth is my plan for a few more years. I want to take time to love on my family and appreciate each and every one of them. But if God decides, I'll go and won't even be mad. You see.... he has already written the last chapter of all of our lives whether we approve or not. So getting mad about it is a waste of anyone's precious time. We all have an appointment and the way we leave is so much more important than we think.

I was reading back on an entry from 2011 that I called "I Choose Joy".  I was reminded that in 1992-93, I had a choice to make regarding how I was going to respond to a VERY difficult life situation. The bottom line was that I had come to a crossroads and I could have chosen either "life or death" and "blessings or curses." I was advised (by God) to "choose life so that you and your children will live." (from the Bible)

Now, I am at that crossroads yet again. As I write this, I see that once again, I need to show my children how to live and (eventually) die. Even though I am pretty confident it's not time quite yet, I want to show them the strength that only God gives. I want everyone around me to look and me and see Jesus. It's true...I really do.

So again.... I will wake up each day and choose the joy that is set before me...it is LIFE.

How it is

Been thinking a lot about dying and living. Nothing morbid… just thinking on how to prepare for both. 

No solutions yet.

Except for Jesus.

 

Work… so much work. And for what? To pay my bills so I can work?

 

I saw some blood the other day – where it should not have been… now I am tired and thinking of dying again.

 

I lay down in the middle of the day all proud of myself because I was going to rest. 

Five minutes later all I could think of is what was NOT done…. So I changed my mind and didn’t rest.

 

I opened up my email and was doing a search for something related to work and what popped up quite by "coincidence" was a long-ago email from my sister entitled, “I Hear His Whisper..."You must learn to rest."

 

Among other things, it said:

            

“I’m not telling you to lie down and give up. I’m telling you that you must be okay with stillness in the middle of a battle. You must listen when I encourage you to rest. You must trust me enough to release yourself to rest, to give yourself permission to stop thinking, to find refreshment in my presence, so you can receive a new strategy that looks totally different than what you expected. I want to teach you what you cannot teach yourself. You know when to push, to declare, to fight, and to dance over pain, but you must also learn to rest.”

 

No, I am not kidding. It was that blatant and in my face. It made me cry a little. I would have cried more but I needed to wait until I finished my work. No, I am not kidding about that either.

 

I have to laugh…cry at how patient God is with me.

 

I am ready to change my thinking… or maybe let God change my thinking. 

I’m willing… I just don’t know how. I need me some Jesus strategy...

So Many Pieces, So Little Time To See Restoration...

“Every morning I lay out the pieces of my life on the altar

and wait for your fire to fall upon my heart.”

Psalm 5:3b (TPT)

So many pieces, so little time to see restoration...

Here is How it All Went

Monday: Drove an hour through once beautiful, now ugly, Seattle. Waited 12:20 PM to nearly 3 PM at his apartment complex - He kept saying he was coming out… but never did. At about 2:30, I found his apartment and knocked and knocked. No answer. I finally gave up.

Was I mad? Nope. Disappointed? Absolutely I was! I cried all the way back to Mukilteo where I am staying.

The minute I pulled into the driveway…. He called. He was sorry. They were fighting. He offered to drive to where I was. I told him I would come back tomorrow and that I loved him.

Tuesday: Drove an hour through once beautiful, now ugly, Seattle…. Again. Waited….again. But this time only about an hour. As soon as I saw his pink-haired girlfriend with their dog, Steve, I got out of the car and introduce myself and hugged her. My son finally came out after at least another half hour. 

I hugged and kissed him so very much and he drank it in. Despite his sweat-drenched and clammy skin, his very swollen face, hands, legs - I couldn’t stop touching this baby that I love so much. Of course, those of you who know him, know that he was dressed very well and probably changed his clothes 12 times and took an hour to comb his hair.  

I drove us all to Bahama Breeze at Southcenter and we had a “birthday lunch”. Steve, the dog waited in the car. I waited outside the restroom for him for about 15 minutes. I finally opened the door of the men’s room and maybe woke him up from the toilet. Not sure. 

Then they needed to return some things to Nordstrom Rack. I waited with Steve-the-dog in the car, two hours later they finally emerged. 

I took them back to their apartment. I asked them if I could pray with them. They said yes, so I took both of their precious hands and asked God to heal and be with them. They were receptive. 

Girlfriend went in with Steve-the-dog and my precious son sat in my car and talked for another hour. 

All in all, it was a good day. I reminded myself going there that I could not have any expectations. And I didn’t. And it worked the way it was supposed to. They both gave me gifts. He gave me two Dr. Suess books for my collection and Girlfriend gave me a beautiful cross necklace that she had made. Her mother died of a drug overdose when she was 15. She has no family. She was happy I liked the necklace and when I hugged her goodbye, I told her thanks for loving my son and that I loved her. She said she loved me too. 

When I said goodbye to my firstborn son, it was very hard to let him go. Very hard.

{Thanks to my sis for the scripture and title}

Worn Out Heart

How does a mother give up on her son? Is it possible... even if she wanted to?

Once again, I am trying to pick up the pieces of my much-broken heart. 

I am artfully fitting each piece back where it belongs.... or as I remember it.

It's a worn-out puzzle. 

Almost unrecognizable.

As I look at the once again patched and finished product... I find it hard to remember what it looked like when it was new.... when I first began the loving of this child.

All of the hopes.

All of the dreams

All of the expectations.

All of the promises I thought God had for him.

All of the prayers and blessings over this one child.

So many dashed dreams. So much hope deferred.

So hard to not give up.

Impossible to give up on this beating heart.