Growing up in my home, there was no denying that I knew the difference between right and wrong. Being branded the “Peacemaker” at such an early age, I learned that doing what was right pleased others. And pleasing others made them happy. This became my goal in life, making my parents proud and making others happy. As a child, these two things were enough to keep me going. But as an adult, it never quite cut the mustard.
Making my parents proud has always been my number 1 priority. I knew that if they were proud of me, I was doing everything right. It was a way to measure my success in life. I went to church, owned many Bibles, had my children dedicated in church, made decisions based on the “right” thing to do instead of what I wanted to do. I was a stay at home mother, was involved in everything my children did. Tried to be a good wife, tried to take care of everything that was given to me, whether the gift was from God or man.
What I didn’t understand was that doing the “right thing” for the “wrong reason”, was an empty way of life and left your soul hungry for something more.
When I was wronged, I tried to answer with “right”ness. When I was hurt I tried to answer with love. When I was embarrassed, I tried to answer with forgiveness. I tried to love people the right way and unconditionally regardless of who they were or where they came from. Now, don’t think that I am painting myself as a saint. Because a saint I was not.
I had so much anger, pain, bitterness, resentment and disillusionment built up on the inside that I couldn’t possibly be happy. I wasn’t doing the right thing for God…I was doing it to find favor in mankind. So, I began to keep score. I began to keep up with who did the wrong thing and how often they did it. I would compare that to my scores of right and wrong things.
I began to question God and ask him why was I suffering so much when I was a good person and I did the right thing. I mean I put everyone else’s needs ahead of my own. I asked Him why He wasn’t blessing me for everything I was doing right.
I never really got and answer. I guess I quit asking the question because it was about then that my world began to fall apart. There were many things leading up to my world crumbling. But let me summarize.
Just before the cracks began to appear, I had everything…on the surface. The decent husband with a good job, 3 great kids, a nice 4 bedroom, 2 1/2 bath house in a preferred part of town, 3 cars, we were on our way.
At about the same time that a literal crack in the foundation of our house appeared, so did a proverbial crack in my world. The house stood, my life crumbled into rubble around my feet.
My daughter was raped and abused by her first boyfriend….in our home. She broke up with him and sent him packing. He left behind a 16 year old girl, pregnant, scarred and scared. And then she miscarried. I tried my best to comfort my daughter, but felt entirely too guilty. You see, I was good to him. I did “right” by him. I didn’t see the evil and I failed to protect my daughter. This happened in 2009.
In 2010, my marriage of 23 years failed. I discovered, while going through abuse classes after my daughter’s incident, I was in an abusive marriage. Not physically abusive, but verbally, emotionally, sexually. I was floored. I knew things were bad, but they got a lot worse.
In 2011, my mother got sick, again. Thanksgiving of that year was the last time I saw her feeling halfway normal. The doctor confirmed my suspicions in April 2012, her cancer was back and it was terminal. I lost my mom in June 2012.
My oldest son left for Afghanistan in March 2012.
In March 2012, my 2 youngest kids and I moved into an apartment that I couldn’t afford with no promise of child support from my estranged husband. I made less than $24,000 per year and drove a van that could quit at any minute
My daughter graduated from high school in May 2012. She left for college in August 2012.
I was scared, angry, full of distrust and decided that for once in my life I was going to have fun. Only it wasn’t any fun. I did things that I was ashamed of. I hurt people and made no one proud of me.
I had met and fallen in love with a man, who was in many of the same struggles I was. Although we were on again and off again, he kept reminding me to seek God.
One night, probably in late April or May, it all came to a head. Jason and I were off again, it was obvious to me that God wasn’t going to perform a miracle for my mother, she was going to die. I had no plan for the future and no way to make a plan happen if I had one. I was drowning and I knew it.
All the goodness I had done in my life wasn’t going to help me. I did it for myself not for God. I sat on my balcony and wept, almost wailing. I cried uncontrollably to the point of not being able to breath or swallow. I yelled at God. I was angry that He was taking everything from me. Everything, even my mother.
Finally, I crawled inside to my bedroom and climbed on my bed. I was alone, completely and utterly alone. Once again, I cried out to God. Only this time I pleaded for His help.
I told God that while my mind knew that He was real, my heart did not have enough faith to believe it. I told Him that I had tried to do everything right, yet everything was crumbling around me and I had made a horrible mess. I told Him that I need to feel Him wrapped around me so that I could feel safe and secure like I always had in my mother’s arms. Then I begged Him to please allow me to feel Him physically because my faith was too weak to feel Him spiritually. At that moment, one of the greatest miracles in my life occurred.
I physically felt the hands of God wrap around me, cradle me like a baby and rock me until the sobs quieted and the crying stopped. I told God at that moment that I needed Him with me always and that I wanted Him to be proud of me. And do you know what God told me? He told me that He was already proud of me because He made me. He told me that I was His daughter and He loved me.
At that point in my life, where my life was literally rubble around my feet, God gave me a new beginning, a fresh start and I became happy in the midst of sorrow, joyful in the midst of mourning.
Never again will I walk alone. Never again will I try to just be good enough, because being good just isn’t enough.
little miracles every day 