This past weekend I did something I’ve never done before. I took a 24 hour break from home. My oldest daughter volunteered to watch the kids for me, and I drove about an hour and a half south of the Twin Cities to an old monastery-turned-retreat-center just a few miles from Lake Pepin. The drive […]
What’s the purpose of that 22-year-old’s life cut from all his potential just as he was being launched from his parent’s nest? What’s the purpose of a young mother who doesn’t live to see her offspring grow up? What’s the purpose of the millions of tiny babies nobody knew? What’s the purpose of all the old people who will die in obscurity, never having made history?
I cannot heal so-and-so.
I cannot rescue fill-in-the-blank.
I cannot change such-and-such.
I cannot protect you-know-who.
I cannot fix you-know-what.
But I can spend time with Jesus.
And I can go for a bike ride.
And I can eat something that’s healthy.
And I can take my dog for a walk.
And I can do a load of laundry.
And I can do what is right in front of me today.
And I can write.
And I can pray.
And I can love the people that God has put in my life.
If I had to choose the form of betrayal that emerged most frequently from my research and that was the most dangerous in terms of corroding the trust connection, I would say disengagement. When the people we love or with whom we have a deep connection stop caring, stop paying attention, stop investing, and stop fighting for the relationship, trust begins to slip away and hurt starts seeping in. Disengagement triggers shame and our greatest fears— the fears of being abandoned, unworthy, and unlovable. What can make this covert betrayal so much more dangerous than something like a lie or an affair is that we can’t point to the source of our pain— there’s no event, no obvious evidence of brokenness. It can feel crazy-making. We may tell a disengaged partner, “You don’t seem to care anymore,” but without “evidence” of this, the response is “I’m home from work every night by six P.M. I tuck in the kids. I’m taking the boys to Little League. What do you want from me?” Or at work, we think, Why am I not getting feedback? Tell me you love it! Tell me it sucks! Just tell me something so I know you remember that I work here!
Brene’ Brown, Daring Greatly
Daring Greatly (Penguin Publishing Group, 2012), pgs. 51-52
We sang this in church on Sunday. It was like a cool balm on a hot, festering wound. I hope it comforts someone (you!) as much as it comforted me. XOXOXO
Getting Organized I’m going through Chalene Johnson’s FREE 30 day challenge. It’s utterly practical and has the potential to be a life-changer. I think I already do a lot of the things she talks about, but it’s helping me put those things into categories and do them in a way that makes sense and is […]