Liz By Design

1. Sometimes we will give our kids resources with which they will make mistakes.

Luke 15:11-13 - Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them. “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living.

2. Don’t hold your child’s bad choices against him/her.

When the son returned home, his father did not ask him where he’d been or what he’d done. He simply hugged him, kissed him, and began preparing a welcome home meal.

Luke 15:20-24 - So he got up and went to his father. “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son’. But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

3. You don’t have to know all the details of their sins.

Luke 15:27 - ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’

4. Understand that the other children will have issues with the prodigal and you might not be able to change that. The siblings might very well make some assumptions about what was in the heart of the prodigal. This is their issue…not yours.

Luke 15:28-30 - “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

5. Defend your child and affirm his/her commitment to change.

Luke 15:31-32 - ” ‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ “

“A woman is like a teabag. You never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water.” Yeah…I’ve heard that one a hundred times. While I believe the sentiment of the statement, I’ve come to hate being called, “the strong one” ’cause it means I’ve spent a ton of time in hot water. I do love that I have discovered how amazingly strong I am, but being in the hot water is exhausting. The other day I was reminded of the other half of that teabag analogy. Here it is; “…and the longer she’s in hot water, the more bitter she becomes. Help her out, squeeze her with a hug and let her dry out.”

It’s easy to encourage someone with bumper sticker philosophy. Doling out wise quips to the hurting makes everyone feel better. I contend, however, that the “dol-er” gets more emotional satisfaction than the “dol-ee”. I know that when someone we love is hurting, it’s really difficult to know what to do, and sometimes words are all that comes to mind. I spent a lot of time in hot water and I know how desperately I wished someone had had the courage to help me out, squeeze me off with a hug, and let me dry out. For the most part, however, people around me only added to my bumper sticker collection.

Please don’t tell me how unhappy you are with who I am today. I spent many years in hot water, and I’m stronger because of it. I am determined to fight the bitterness by using my experiences to teach and encourage others. You want to help me out? Turn off your hot water kettle, squeeze me, and sit with me while I dry out.

I am living with the consequences of actions – both my own and those of others. Several years ago, when I was in deep sadness and pain, I went to a retreat at Hume Lake Christian Camp. I went for a very long walk and prayed and talked to God. I remember sitting on a rock beside the lake and I heard an audible voice say, “Tell your story”. I had a conversation with God that day. I said, “What is my story? What should I tell?” I heard God say, “Your story is for the church.” In the years since, I’ve come to understand my story. It’s really very simple – we can choose our behavior, but we can’t choose the consequences of our behavior. I desire to shine a light on the fact that “the world” often wants nothing to do with God because of the behavior of His kids. I am living with the consequences of some very bad behavior of Christians, and I understand how important it is that we take responsibility for what we do to one another. I, however, have been paralyzed by the fear that people will accuse me of NOT loving the church, or of NOT loving God. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am madly in love with God’s kids and I want “the world” to see love in and through us.

I have a cousin who is beautiful, smart, kind, and generous. She’s also a religious zealot, and while I appreciate her deep faith, I do not share her brand of religion. She spends a lot of time talking with my mom about me “because we care”, and she sent me a letter the other day and told me that God had revealed to her that I was “bound up” and “in the belly of the whale”. She told me I needed to get rid of ‘blame”. She is definitely someone who has fostered my fear of speaking the truth. She assumes she knows my motivations, and constantly waters seeds of doubt and fear in my heart! She told me that she has received “confirmation” of certain truths. She told me she’s “heard” things about me. Whatever she has “heard” about me is gossip and I refuse to give gossip any credibility at all! Anyway, she said, “they’ll know we are Christians by our words, and Liz, your words are rotten.” I asked her to tell me what she was talking about. Her response? “Clearly you are not ready, my dear cousin, to hear the truth. When you are, I am here”. Hello? Did I not ask you to tell me what you were talking about? I asked her to tell me what “confirmation” she had received, but instead she rebuffed me. Considering I haven’t had a face-to-face conversation with my cousin in years, I’d like to know what “words” she’s talking about.

After receiving that letter from my cousin, I met with several of the friends I love and trust and they prayed with me and for me. A couple of days later I got in my car and I heard the words, “It is fear that is binding you up – fear of what people will say when you tell your story. Liz, don’t them hush you. Don’t let your family hush you. Don’t let your cousin hush you.” I said, “God if this is from you, show me.” I turned on the radio and heard these words, “We are now back with the author of the book, ‘Hushed’.” My heart started racing and I got goose bumps. God had my attention. I listened and heard the commentator talk about how bad behavior and secrets are often swept under the rug when the perpetrator is a church leader or prominent member of a church body. That is my story! God showed me that day that fear is keeping me from telling my story. It is NOT about blame. It IS about taking ownership of the consequences of our own bad behavior, and encouraging others to do the same.

“Blame” is such a negative word. Let’s imagine I lost my legs in a car accident. When people asked me what happened to my legs, my response would be, “I lost them in a car accident.” Would anyone say to me, “Oh Liz, stop blaming the accident for losing your legs”? Wouldn’t that be a ridiculous statement to make? I am living with the consequences of bad behavior – my own and that of others. I don’t “blame” anyone for anything. I do, however, acknowledge that if different choices had been made along the way (by a plethora of players) so much of the bad stuff could have been avoided. That is my story, and I am so tired of being afraid to tell it! God has told me to tell my story. If I can keep one person or one family from walking the same road that I have walked, then it will all have been worth it.

Okay…enough of the fear! I will not let you tell me what my motives are! We don’t know what motivates us most of the time, let alone what motivates anyone else! I will not be hushed!

I’ve been afraid my whole life and that fear has kept me from trying so many things I KNOW I could really be good at. Fear also drove me to do so many things, and make most of the life choices I’ve made. Fear. Bummer.

Okay, so I’ve talked to therapists about this fear thing and I could tell you all the psycho-babble they told me, but the why’s just don’t matter as much as the what’s. Despite wanting desperately to be an actor, I was always afraid of criticism and rejection. Of course criticism and rejection is part of the gig, so being afraid of those two things meant I had no hope of really “making it”. I’ve always had one fear that down deep inside I thought was a bit irrational, but fears are often irrational. Here it is; I grew up understanding that certain expectations had been placed on me. As the oldest child – and a daughter – I understood that I was expected to care for my younger siblings at times and help out around the house. I took that responsibility seriously. I was always a bit afraid that if I turned my back on that responsibility - if I didn’t say and do the right things – then my family would think less of me and they wouldn’t accept me. Sadly, that fear has proven to be a reality.

A few years ago, after experiencing some serious life challenges, I began speaking up for myself. I didn’t have the time or energy to be the family “hostess with the mostest”, and I began saying “no”. I was told I was “selfish”. When I finally stood up and told my family I could no longer be around certain bad behaviors, I was told I was “judgmental” and I “refused to accept people as they are”. Ironically, I was no longer being accepted as I was.

Families like to say they love one another unconditionally, but I’ve heard Dr. Laura Shchlessinger say that there’s simply no such thing as “unconditional” love. She maintains that circumstances and behaviors affect our feelings and the emotion called “love”. When the circumstances change and the behavior becomes unbearable, love stops. Well, I maintain that Jesus really does love the sinner and hate the sin. It is my desire to do the same. Just because I’ve expressed my frustration and even anger over the words and deeds of people in my life, I know that I love them. I love them enough to not want to be hurt by them. Anyway, I wanted to believe that I was valued enough that I could express my feelings and discomfort without condemnation. The most hurtful words have been, “I don’t care, Liz. I DON’T CARE.” Wow.

So, I’ve always been afraid that if I stopped doing what was “expected” of me, that I would be no longer be accepted. I really did want to believe that fear was an irrational one – like being afraid of being hit by a meteor. I’ve come to understand that fears, no matter how irrational they may seem, are rooted in reality.

And still….there is hope for a better future.

Early last week I saw a story on Good Morning America about Susan Klebold, the mom whose son Dylan was one of the Columbine killers. I’m sure you remember the horrible events of April 20, 1999 when Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold killed 12 of their fellow students and a teacher at Columbine High School in Columbine, Colorado. Susan Klebold wasn’t personally interviewed for the story, but she wrote a column for O Magazine and Gayle King, in turn, shared the story on GMA.

Susan has spent the last 10 years questioning herself and how she could have known what her son was planning. She replays in her mind the morning of the shooting and the last conversation she shared with Dylan. She has been in therapy for all these years as she deals with the guilt and personal sadness that walks beside her like a constant shadow. She has written letters of apology to each and every parent who lost a child that horrible day, but her therapist has suggested she not mail the letters, as that would bring the hurt back to the surface for the victims.

For the Good Morning America spot, some of the parents of the students killed at Columbine were interviewed. One student’s family said they were happy to hear from Susan and to “finally” hear an apology. Another family said it was too little too late.

Susan Klebold lost a child that horrible day in 1999, but she has NEVER been given the kind of support and love that the innocent victims’ families have been given. This woman has been the subject of judgmental criticisms and unspeakable gossip. She is as much a victim as any of the other parents. It was a mental and emotional sickness that caused her son to take so many lives and then commit suicide. So much GOOD has come from the Columbine experience because teachers, counselors, students, and parents have learned to recognize the signs of violent despair in kids and teens. Young people change and reinvent themselves every few weeks and it is difficult to recognize what might be a danger sign of underlying violence, and what is simply a “phase”. We’ve got to stop blaming mothers and we’ve got to reach out and support one another! Our kids are counting on us!

I love my family more than anything else in this world. I haven’t always put my family first as I am human, and humans are notorious for being far from perfect. However, nothing is of more value than a loving relationship with all the members of my family. I’ve written about family conflicts and I continue to be saddened and confused by the reactions of my mom, dad, and siblings.

When a major crisis hit my life I needed - DESPERATELY needed - help and support. I needed someone to help me with my laundry, my chores, and my aloneness. Instead, I was told again and again and again that I had “changed” and no one was happy about it. I was always available to my family in their time of need - child care, household chores when babies were born or family was hospitalized, and I was the party hostess. When I was in crisis and no one came to the hospital, or to help in my home (my family didn’t even help put up “missing child” posters when my daughter was missing), I asked my mom why. Her answer, “because you’re the strong one”.

I started speaking out about my feelings. I expressed hurt and even anger. I was tired of being told I was “unattractive” or “crazy”, or that the bad choices made by my children were all my fault. Lately, my family’s mantra is, “accept people as they are” and they tell me I lack acceptance. What that means (it seems) is, “let people say and do whatever they want, no matter how mean or hurtful, and never ever complain”.

I miss my sister more than life. She, however, told me she would “no longer share her life with” me because I expressed my frustration over her behavior at Christmas.

My feelings don’t count. I’m so sad.

There is no doubt the health care system in America needs some attention. More specifically, the health care INSURANCE system needs some SERIOUS attention. Listen folks, the business of providing insurance – health, life, car, pet, etc…is a BUSINESS. Furthermore, it is a for profit business. The insurance companies are not nearly as interested in your health as they are in making money. This is the reality, people! Do you really think the government wants in on the health care industry because they CARE about your health? They absolutely see dollar signs.

The other day I heard a father speaking out in favor of a government health plan. He was telling the truly sad story of his family’s battle to save his daughter’s life. He told how she was suffering from leukemia, and the family’s share of the medical costs was so high that the family was going to have to file bankruptcy! I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but why is this the government’s problem? Having children means you take on the emotional and physical responsibility of raising that child. Having a child who is sick or healthy is sometimes just the luck of the draw. But saving the child’s life is what a parent does, and sometimes that costs a great deal of money.

There are many, many special needs children in the world whose conditions are not covered by insurance, but that fact does not stop the parents from seeking out the best possible treatment for their child. If a child is diagnosed with ADHD or some other learning disability a parent might spend thousands and thousands of dollars and an untold number of hours searching for the right medication, the right counseling, the right teacher, etc… Families will search anywhere and pay anything for treatment to help the child suffering from Autism, ADD, Downs Syndrome, or any one of the myriad of diagnosed and undiagnosed learning disabilities. Anyone who has a child with a mental or psychological illness knows the emotional and financial hurdles that must be overcome to find the proper treatment and care for your child. If you, like us, have searched for affordable medical and/or emotional treatment for your drug-addicted child, you know you’d have better luck turning water into wine! Insurance would not cover one dime of the $60,000 tab for 7 months of treatment for our daughter. You won’t find us standing before a bunch of suits on Capitol Hill begging for someone to give us a hand out. A parent will do anything to save their child’s life – even if it means losing everything. My child’s health and emotional wellbeing is worth more than our house, our cars, or our credit score!

The health care system is broken, but getting more handouts from the government is not going to fix anything. The government is a for profit entity, just like the insurance companies, and they will always keep a closer eye on the bottom line than on the lives of the affected families. There are so many “hidden” costs of raising a child. Parents invest in dance lessons, piano lessons, tennis camps, sports programs, and private education. Unforeseen medical costs are just another unplanned expense of growing up the little people whose lives were entrusted to you – the parent. Put on your big-girl panties and do what it takes to do what is right!

Happily, and I say this with great trepidation, my life seems to be settling down a bit. There’s a hint of fear factor in these words, because every time I settle in for some good old fashioned peace, another challenge comes along to knock me out of the boat and back into the ever choppy waters of life! I’m going to try to cherish this moment and not just hold my breath while waiting for the other shoe to drop. My prayer has ALWAYS been that my struggles will not have been for nothing and that people might learn from my mistakes. I pray also that I might share some of the wisdom that comes from surviving.

Many times people ask me, “I feel so helpless, but I want to do SOMETHING. What can I do for my friend, when there’s nothing I can do?” Great question. So….let me share some of the things that people did for me that really helped, and some not so helpful things (although completely well-meaning).

Matthew 7:9 asks a question, “which among you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone?” In this passage Jesus is saying that when you come to the Father, He will provide you with what you need. Now, sometimes we ask for one thing, and God gives us something else – because He knows what we NEED. In Psalms 37 we also read that if we delight ourselves in doing God’s will, he will give us the desires of our heart. When dealing with someone in crisis, if you ask them what they NEED at that very moment, they will tell you. Do not try to give them a stone, if what they are asking for is bread. Oh, it might make YOU feel good to know that you were doing SOMETHING, but it may make things harder for the person in pain then you realize.

When my daughter was missing (a drug-addicted teen runaway) we had MANY needs. When people asked what they could do to help, we told them, but for the most part – no one asked. I think they (like us) were overwhelmed with the enormity and gravity of the situation, and most did not know what to say. I get that. One day a friend called me up and said, “I know that if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t be getting my chores done. So, I’m going to come over and clean your refrigerator. Don’t say no, I’m coming.” I KNEW she wanted to do SOMETHING, so I didn’t say no. However, what do you think I did before she came over? (Everyone) I cleaned my refrigerator! Well, I took out the really gross science project stuff at least. I also vacuumed the rest of my house, because I was embarrassed and didn’t want her to see how badly I was dealing with things. I cried the whole time I was cleaning because I felt guilty about the fact that I wasn’t out looking for my daughter. I know my friend wanted to help, but at that moment, I felt that I was being given a stone when what I really needed was bread!

A friend of mine tells the story of having a need being met and I love it. She told me that when her mother-in-law died, she was overwhelmed with all the details – family, funeral, emotions, etc…. A dear friend of hers called and said, “What do you need”. She told her to “be real”. So, my friend was raw and real. “What I need”, she said, “is for my laundry to get done”. The friend told her to leave it on her porch. So my friend loaded all the dirty laundry (underwear and all) into two huge garbage bags and put the bags out on her porch. The next day all the laundry was returned to her porch, clean and folded neatly. My friend didn’t even have to open her door, vacuum her house, or put on make-up. Talk about meeting a need! Awesome story!

The people who provided bread to me in my times of need will never be forgotten. One day 50 people gathered in the parking lot of the church we attended and were given flyers featuring the face of my beautiful missing child. They spent the morning canvassing the city and putting those flyers on every pole and in every window they could find! I love those people. On that very morning, I walked out of my house to find that my tire was flat. There was a nail in the tire! My husband put the tiny “donut” spare tire on the car and we went to the meeting place. One of the people who had arrived to distribute flyers offered to take the tire with the nail in it and have it repaired! When we returned home that afternoon, the repaired tire was sitting on our doorstep! I didn’t have to miss a step, or take one moment away from the enormous job at hand and I was so grateful. Bread!

I too find myself wondering what I can do to help. The needs of a family in crisis are HUGE. They need money, food, shelter, counseling, and sometimes a good attorney. Sometimes the only thing I can give is a hug or an ear with which to listen. So many times people are so confused as to what to say that they ignore the hurting person all together. Don’t do that! I’ve spent hours on the phone with hurting moms whose children are lost in rebellion. I’ve talked women through the jail visitation process. I’ve sent Starbucks gift cards to friends. No pressure – they can use the cards whenever they feel like taking a moment, or they just need a cup of coffee! I’ve sent cards of encouragement, and emails saying, “I’m thinking of you”. These aren’t big things, but believe me…they help! Do not, I repeat, DO NOT assume that you know what a person in crisis needs. Ask them! Don’t give stones when all they’re asking for is bread. Surely we can find a piece of bread to give a hurting person.

We all owe our families a debt of gratitude. If not for them, we might never have a need for therapy! We’ve all heard of the women who were raised with alcoholic parents, then can’t seem to get out of the cycle of being with or marrying alcoholic men. They’ve seen the damage done to loved ones first hand, and yet they continue the cycle. Why? The answer is simple….it’s what they know. Humans find comfort in the known, and fear in the unknown. It took me unimaginable loss and two years of therapy before I began to understand why I’d chosen friends that were comfortable, but ultimately destructive to me.

I was raised in a family where I understood and accepted that which was expected of me. When my parents divorced and my mom went to work outside of the home, I became the primary caretaker in the home for much of the day. I was eleven! I watched over my three younger siblings, kept the house clean, and usually had dinner on the table in the evening. It never occurred to me to NOT do those things!

Mom loved to sing and she sang semi-professionally for much of my childhood. She sang gospel music and, along with her friends, recorded four albums. I remember many a weekend when “The Helmsingers” loaded up their husbands, wives, and 21 children, and traveled up and down the state of California to one church gig after another. When the singing group broke up, my mom taught her three daughters to sing three-part harmony. We were NOT good! We did, however, get up in front of the church in our matching dresses, and sing. I remember having a deep sense of obligation to do so.

My mom loved to dance around the house, and she taught us to “jitterbug”. I remember asking her for dance lessons and being told that it was “against our religion”. I was raised in a conservative Seventh-Day-Adventist home and there were many things I knew I’d never be allowed to do because they would have conflicted with the Sabbath. My place in the family and in the church had been established, and I was well aware of what was expected of me. I didn’t balk at those things because I wanted very much to be the “good girl”. I was the girl that never said “no” and whenever something was asked of me, I did it.

I got married and had children and serving my family was (and is) my greatest joy. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but I was choosing friends that needed me to serve them and I equated that need with real friendship and love. They were NOT – I repeat NOT – bad people. We were being drawn to one another because the relationships were comfortable. It is comfortable for some people to be needy, and for others to be needed. I would often stay up all night long to write a scene for whatever production the Music Pastor had me working on. I took care of kids when their parents were sick or in the hospital; I baked home-made bread for the dad whose wife was hospitalized; I folded laundry and made the beds for my best friend when she had a hysterectomy. I did these things for these people because I loved them. I don’t remember ever thinking, “I’ll get paid back someday”.

Then….

The first indication I had that something was amiss was when my kids were very little (maybe 8, 9, and 12) and I had to have surgery. I had my thyroid removed and there were some complications that kept me hospitalized for four days. My husband and children came to visit me (of course) and a pastor’s wife came to see me as well. My mom and siblings never came, my friends never came, and family members from my husband’s side never came. Not one person offered to help out with the kids, or with meals and household chores. My hospital stay was anything but relaxing, as all I could think about was getting home to clean my house and take care of my kids. My other siblings had always had help when they’d needed it (oh, I could write a book on that subject alone!), but I was left alone. When I asked my mom why no one thought to help me out she said, “because you’re the strong one”.

Eventually, those same “friends” broke up with me. The bottom line really was…I no longer behaved the way THEY wanted me to. When it came right down to it, their friendship was based on what I could do for them. One of the friends, Rhonda, even told that I was “too weak” to be her friend! She used the Bible to defend her way of thinking, but when I asked her why she didn’t respond to me in the way the Bible taught she said, “I don’t like your victim mentality”. Unbelievable.

When my kids took their drug detours I was so busy pouring into them and my efforts to save their lives, that I didn’t have time for the rest of my family. Believe me, I heard about it!! When after a particularly difficult lunch at my house I told my extended family that I would never again host a party at my house, my mom said, “Oh yes you will”. No, I won’t. When I spoke out about the way some of my family members talk to one another and treat one another I heard, “what the hell is wrong with Liz”, or “I will no longer share my life with you.” You see, as long as I fall in line and do what is expected of me, I’m good. But as soon as I stand up for myself, or (God forbid) have a need, I’m not worthy of being served. In addition, we turned to the church for help, and received NONE!! We fought the battle to save our children’s lives completely alone. The good news is – we won! The bad news is – I can’t imagine ever trusting anyone enough to ask for help again.

So, where are we today? Well, I desperately need to have surgery, but I am so scared. As long as I don’t NEED anyone, I will not be reminded of the fact that there is no one in our life on whom we can depend. I will have to be bedridden for 6 weeks after surgery! I KNOW that my family and Tom’s family will not come over and help out with the household chores, or with meals. How do I know that? Because we’ve been in need before, but I was “the strong one”, and therefore didn’t need the help. I honestly believe that no one knows how to relate to the Liz who needs. They only know the Liz who serves and they want her back.

The other day one of my several bosses said, “you are so strong, Liz. You can survive anything!” The oft quoted and way over used adage promises, “that which does not kill us, makes us stronger”. Okay, so my question is this, are strong people born, or are we created by our circumstances? I submit the latter is true.

My parents divorced when I was 10. My mother had been a stay-at-home mom, but the summer I was eleven my mom went back to work, and I was put in charge of my three younger siblings. The truth is, I think all four of us were basically caring for ourselves. I, however, remember doing a good deal of the housework and preparing many of the meals. I often had dinner on the stove, in the oven, or on the table when my mom got home from work. Since I was the oldest, I was expected to be the strongest. That trend continued through my life. I always knew what was expected of me, and I purposed to be the good girl who lived up to those expectations.

I have survived many things, which might not have killed the weaker person, but most certainly would have (and has) crippled many. I do seem to come out on the other side of each one of life’s challenges stronger. But, I gotta tell ya…I don’t always feel strong and there have been many times I’ve needed to be weak. The problem, however, is that since everyone sees me as “the strong one”, people around me seem confused by the idea that I might sometimes be needy. The words, “I can’t” coming from my mouth are just about as effective as the babblings of a 12-month-old attempting a recitation of Shakespeare.

Several years ago I was hospitalized for 4 days following the surgical removal of my thyroid gland. My children were young and my husband was at home caring for them during my hospitalization. During those four days I had only one visitor besides my husband, and that person was not a family member. I sang in the church choir, was a part of the creative arts team, and was actively involved in several church ministries. As a part of those different groups I was often called upon to provide meals for people when they had babies, or were sick. But the meals never came when I was hospitalized. I was told that it had never occurred to anyone that I might need help, because I was “so strong”. Strong or not, I was unable to care for my family during the time I was hospitalized, and for weeks afterward. But, I came out of that experience stronger and more in tune to the needs of others than I ever had been before.

When we were in the throws of unimaginable drama I was in completely foreign territory. I had no idea what to do and who to trust. I was completely and totally alone. My husband and I were as distant as we’d ever been as neither of us had any idea how to help our family. People around me had NO CLUE as to how to help me. You see, since I was indeed the strong one, I had surrounded myself with people who needed me. I had been the caregiver for my whole life and I guess that role made me the most comfortable. I was drawn to people who needed me, and when the role was suddenly reversed, no one knew how to respond. When my daughter was missing I spent my mornings putting up missing posters, my days working, and my nights canvassing the city in search of her. Needless to say, my home chores were completely ignored. No one, I mean NO ONE asked me what I might need, or whether there was anything they could do to help. Again, I think it genuinely never occurred to anyone that I might be weak. Even my family was at a complete loss. I might just as well have been a stranger to them. Anyway, one day a friend called to say she had a “great idea” and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was going to bring another friend over and clean my refrigerator, because she knew that if she was in my shoes “the refrigerator would be the last thing I would be thinking about”. Well, that was true enough! But, when she told me her plan I immediately felt a brick settle on the top of my head and begin to crush me. I didn’t want anyone in my house – let alone in my refrigerator. I KNEW she wanted to help, but oh how I wished she had asked me what I needed instead of assuming she knew best. Before she came over I spent several hours I didn’t have cleaning the rest of my house so she wouldn’t see how unkempt everything was!

Listen, I appreciate how strong I am and I LOVE all the life lessons I’ve learned through our many challenges and trials. But listen people; even the strong ones are needy sometimes. Eventually my bucket will be completely empty and I will have nothing left to give. Knowing a person is “strong” is not an excuse to not help them out in time of real need!!! Trying to put yourself in someone else’s shoes is NOT the same as asking them what it’s like to be in their shoes! Thinking about what YOU might want in the same situation is NOT the same as asking the person in the middle of a crisis what THEY might want or need!

That which does not kill us makes us empathetic to the REAL needs of others.