The past shapes us but it doesn't have to define us.

The further I get from childhood the more I realize how dysfunctional it was. This realization has been something that I've been mulling over a lot lately in both my waking and sleeping hours.

The other day I was complaining about how jumpy I was at work. I got to thinking about it and why I'm so easily startled. I think that it started when I was young and has continued to be reinforced by life circumstances. But I wanted to get to its source, so I feel like I have to go back to the beginning.

Growing up, my (step)dad was not particularly kind to me. That's putting it lightly. I'm not really interested in rehashing ALL of what that means, because I don't really believe it serves any particular purpose. For the purpose of this argument, I'm trying to draw the connection between my jumpiness as an adult to my dad's actions when I was a kid. He used to take some sort of sick pleasure in sneaking up on me and startling me. He found it funny. Because I think he knew how afraid I was of him, I think that it was cruel. It's like he enjoyed seeing the fear and uncertainty in my eyes. When I think too deeply about it, it chills my blood. I know that it left me feeling really insecure growing up.

Not only was I insecure as a child, but I was also deeply ashamed about who I was. Let me back up a little bit to give you the backdrop to that statement. When I came home today, I found a bag of childhood items on my dresser. In it, I found a dove pin. Initially, I was happy to see it again, because I always loved that pin. Then, I remembered what I had to wear that pin for: to pin a laminated piece of paper to my underwear. The piece of paper read, "Humility." My dad felt that I had issues with arrogance and needed to be humble. As punishment, he told me that I had to pin that paper to my underwear to remind me to be more humble. Even writing this out, it seems unbelievable that it was something I had to do. In hindsight, I think his only goal was humiliation, not humility. And it worked, because I not only felt ashamed but also confused.

If I sit here long enough, I'm sure I could come up with more instances of his cruelty, but what would be the purpose? It seems that that could only lead to bitterness and poison within my own heart. Ultimately, I find it to be very unfair to myself to relive something that was awful the first time around. Why would I punish myself for someone else's crime?!

I was talking to a friend today about how every kid deserves to be lavished with hugs, kisses, the whole nine yards and that I envision myself adopting kids one day. I'm not sure how I feel about having kids of my own considering how many kids there already are that are in need of a good home. But all of that to say, my desire to love on as many kids as much as I can is because I don't feel like I got that for the most part.

As we all know, little girls want to be told how beautiful they are and how much they matter. That we are someone worth fighting for! If I could help it, I would NEVER want another girl to doubt how beautiful she is or how much she matters. I know that this is the reason why I am so passionate about working with children (particularly, girls) and why that was my concentration in grad school. NO child should be made to feel the way that I felt growing up.

Now, don't think that all of life was "gloom and doom." Obviously, I survived and have come out the other side. For the most part, I would say that I've done fairly well in spite of some of my dysfunctional childhood. 

I have to be honest, though, it has not been by my own strength or wisdom that I made it through in one piece. I definitely felt a strong sense of God's presence in my life since I was very young. Through difficult times in my childhood, I felt like God kept whispering to me, "This is not my desire for you. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

There is redemption in my story, so all is not without hope! When I was taking a shower this morning (where many-a-good conversation with God has taken place), I felt God say, "Give me the pain of your past. You don't need to carry it around anymore." Sometimes I think that I carry around the pain of my past as something to hold on to. As if it justifies my desire to not be as forgiving as I should be. As if I afraid of letting go of the "comfort" of those painful memories. It's odd how being in pain can become "normal" when that's all we've ever known.

I know that God has been plans for me, but that I cannot walk in my destiny if I won't allow myself to let go of the past and walk in the unknown. I've known pain. I've known heartbreak. I've known fear. But God, in his infinite goodness, desires for all of us to know the boundless limits of his love. A love that heals. Yes, the past shapes us, but it doesn't have to define us.

We have to decide what will define us. I REFUSE to be defined by the shitty childhood that I had. I refuse. I wish to be defined by the love of God that flows through me. The cycle of abuse has to end. It has to and will end with me. The kind of legacy I'd like to leave in this life is one of love and compassion. Obviously, I am not perfect, but I'll be damned if I don't try my hardest to be more like my Heavenly Father than my earthly father. 

At the end of the day, I think that our resolutions about who we want to be shapes who we become. Will we let life circumstances embitter us or will we find a way to use those negative experiences for good? Will we harness the power of our stories for the benefit of those in our lives and the rest of humankind?

Martin Luther King Jr. said it best:

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." 

Here's to letting go of hate and holding on to love!

"Money doesn't grow on trees"

You know that moment when you realize that "money doesn't grow on trees"? Well, I've been having that realization a lot lately. Post-grad-school, I must admit that I thought life would be a little bit easier than it has been. (Okay, a LOT easier.) The irony is that because of my higher education I am overqualified for many jobs but experientially under-qualified for many others. At the end of the day, it is neither here or there.

The point of this post isn't to complain about how hard life has been or how I've struggled to find my way after graduation (trust me, I've done enough wallowing already). The point is to give thanks. I'm not going to lie, things have been tight lately. Way tighter than they were when I was actually going to school. It has been a lesson in learning to better manage my money, getting creative, and, mainly, trusting in God. 

As most of you know, I am not one to readily trust in anyone. I think that is quite the bone of contention in my relationship with God. God is God. Although I don't (really) want to be God, sometimes I'd like to play God for a moment or two and tell God how God ought to be. God should help to minimize the problems in my life in exchange for my allegiance and swearing a life of service. Right?! Wrong.

God is God. And Delia is, well, Delia. I am not the boss. God is. *Gulp* Do I trust God? Do I really trust him? Do I really think that God has my best interests at heart? Am I going to somehow end up with the short end of the stick? Will all the hardship of this life account for anything at the end? What is the gain? Will it all be worth it? 

Did you notice how all of those statements revolve around me? Although I am not trying to minimize my value and worth as an individual human being, it is sobering to think about how life isn't all about me. It just isn't. Again, that is neither here or there.

When I take a step back and look at the big picture and the sovereignty of God, I am in utter awe that that God cares to know me. That God knows the number of hairs on my head and every one of my needs. God cares. I think that as humans we try to manipulate and exploit God's concern for us. God is not one to be coerced into doing anything. He is not some mystical cosmic vending machine or genie in a lamp. God desires what is best for us, even if that means we get angry with him or throw a tantrum. (I feel like I've been throwing a lot of those lately). 

But, I finally feel like I am nearly the end of my current tantrum, worn out from all of the kicking, screaming, and fighting. God, the lovely parent that God is, has scooped me up into his loving embrace and calmed my anxiety.

At this point, you're probably wondering what prompted such a post. Well, I have to tell you, I got my state tax return in the mail. It is a sizable amount. Although I knew that this check would be arriving some time soon, I cannot even begin to tell you the amount of relief I felt when I held the check in my hand and looked at its dollar amount. 

Like a wave crushing over me, I just knew. God is good. It makes me think of a song that I've had playing on and off in my head for the past two days: How He Loves by David Crowder Band.  

The opening lyrics go like this: 

"He is jealous for me,
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree,
Bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy.
When all of a sudden,
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory,
And I realize just how beautiful You are,
And how great Your affections are for me."

God is jealous for you. For me. God wants our hearts, not merely our external forms of allegiance. I posted on my Facebook earlier about how generosity is not about the size of our wallets. Rather, it is about the size of our hearts that matter. Generosity, the act of letting go of what was never actually ours to begin with, is what has been on my heart a lot lately.

It is my prayer that this blog post will serve as a reminder of how we are blessed so that we might be a blessing to others. I am prayerfully considering how to balance between divvying out this money for various bills, car repairs, etc. and how I might be able to bless others as well. One thing that I know that I do not need to pray about is where the first 10% will be going. I've already given to "Caesar" what was "Caesar's" and now it's time to give to God what is God's with a glad and thankful heart. :)   

Lent, Easter, and Africa

At first glance, the title of this blog post may not make the most sense, but I promise you, they are all related somehow.

Let's start with Easter. I must admit that every time another holiday has rolled around in the past five years I have felt a twinge of pain over my family situation. It's a long, complicated story. But let's just say that every holiday is a reminder of what once was... some sort of semblance of the meaning of family. But it wasn't until about two years ago that my immediate family seemed to unravel at a much more accelerated rate.

That being said, it has been a real struggle for me to grapple with feeling sad and ungrateful while feeling guilty because I should be grateful... especially of all holidays, on Easter. It should be a cause for such a great celebration and joy in my heart. Tonight, I kept thinking about my emotional lack of gratitude in contrast to my intellectual obligation to gratitude as I drove home. 

Here is what I came up with: Gratitude is a choice. I must choose to not focus on what I don't have and what isn't but on what I do have and what is. What is? I am getting a great tax return this year when I have really been needing that money. I am healthier and stronger physically now more than ever. I am situated in a good place with my business. I have a place to live and food in my belly. Life is good. Not ideal, but good. I'm in much better place now than I have been in two years. I know that I'm moving forward, and not backwards, which is really good. And I know that I have not gotten here alone. When I look at it that way, I am grateful. I truly am.

As I was driving home tonight, I also couldn't help but think back to another time in my life when I was extremely grateful. A time when life was supremely good. On Easter five years ago, I was staying at a resort on the beach with friends in Kenya. We had woken up early to sing worship songs at sunrise. Normally, I don't do early mornings or waking up before the sun, but Easter seemed like the perfect occasion, if any, to forgo the sleep and bask in the beauty of God's creation as we thanked him for the sacrifice of the cross. It was one of those moments in my life that I will never forget. It was handful of us, a guitar, and the sound of the ocean. It was simple and beautiful. No fancy services, Easter productions, powerpoint slides, choirs, nothing. It was just us and God.

That moment was the culmination of an internship in Kenya/Tanzania which was quickly coming to an end. I had spent about four months in Africa and I had learned so much about what it meant to be still before the Lord. I felt God all around me. I felt like I could hear God better out there. At first, the silence was eerie but I grew accustomed to it and comfortable in that space. And that is the reason why I truly miss Africa and I feel like my heart cries out for it. A simplicity and rich spirituality that is hard to explain abounds in that place. There is so much less noise there and I don't just mean a literal noise. I mean the noise of constant sensory overload and, of all places to work, I have chosen to work at one of the noisiest places in the world.

Being constantly overwhelmed for five years now has left me feeling far from God. It is not because God is gone or because I don't want to know God. It is because it is absolutely counter-cultural to find space to just be. To turn off the radio, television, computer, and cell phone and live independent of those things.

Speaking of such things, my friend challenged me to give up TV for Lent this year. I told him that I couldn't because I have too many things queued on Hulu. To which he replied, "That is the exact reason why you need to give it up." Touche, my friend, touche. So, I gave up watching my shows and leaving the TV on at night before I went to bed. Giving it up was difficult but a lot easier than I thought it would be.

This past week, I have been thinking a lot about what's next. Will my life be any different because of sacrifice I made for Lent? How has my heart changed over the past 40 days? Am I any better because of it?

I must say that I do believe that I will return to some of my favorite shows, but much like how my eating habits have changed, so will my TV watching habits. It would have been impossible for me to sacrifice watching TV for 40 days and not have it change me. In that way, I have realized that this may have been the first step in God trying to woo me back to him. He's calling me back like the prodigal daughter that I've been. My heart has been far from his and empty. That deep desire to be close to him is what makes me miss Africa the most, because I'd equate Africa to being my Mt. Sinai. Moses went to the Mount to meet with God face-to-face and Africa is where I felt like I met with God face-to-face. Like Moses, I do not live on the mountain but I do recognize the need to retreat at times to remove myself of all distractions to be nearer to God. 

It is my prayer that it will not be too much longer before I am able to return that place (in both a literal and metaphorical sense). But in the mean time, it is also my prayer that I learn to live in this valley with a new and joyous heart. At the end of the day, I do have much to rejoice for and if for no other reason than this: He is risen! :)