Twenty
years ago, I was preparing for a visit from my quite critical
mother-in-law (MIL). I was nearing the end of my tour in my
Shepherding Discipleship Church, and my head was really full of
ridiculous expectations – at least six impossible ones before
breakfast every day. Before I started on cleaning the kitchen, I
went out to tend my tomato garden.
I was on my hands and knees in the dirt, praying as I panicked in the mud. I thought of the Biblical characters of Ruth and Naomi – the greatest ideal of mother and daughter-in-law. Ruth was a convert to Judaism, but after her husband dies, Ruth pledges to continue to follow God and to stay with her MIL, Naomi, as they both struggle to survive. I started weeping as I worked in the garden. My brain washed over with the many memories of the many cruelties inflicted by my own MIL in the five or so years that we'd been married.
I was on my hands and knees in the dirt, praying as I panicked in the mud. I thought of the Biblical characters of Ruth and Naomi – the greatest ideal of mother and daughter-in-law. Ruth was a convert to Judaism, but after her husband dies, Ruth pledges to continue to follow God and to stay with her MIL, Naomi, as they both struggle to survive. I started weeping as I worked in the garden. My brain washed over with the many memories of the many cruelties inflicted by my own MIL in the five or so years that we'd been married.
All at
once, as my thoughts raced, I started to cry out to God from the
bottom of my soul over my grief at what I saw as this failing
relationship. I blamed myself for the conflicts and friction, and my
MIL was all too happy to oblige. I “had to” find something to
“make things work” and believed that I could. “Please,
make me like Ruth!” Very much in contrast to my
thoughts and feelings in that moment, suddenly – it felt like
everything hushed for a nanosecond as one sober thought of a voice or
a voice of a thought asked me firmly, “But
what if she's not like Naomi?”
Credulity's
Trap
My MIL
made some promises to me when I married her son – that I was now
one of her own. I became her daughter. Part of
the problem? We each had very different ideas of what constituted a
mother-daughter relationship, and neither of us had remotely
realistic expectations. To my detriment and despite evidence to the
contrary, I wrapped my heart around her words as if my unbridled
trust in them would prove them true. I would have to learn the hard
way over the course of a few more years that she had no desire to be
anything remotely like a noble Naomi – at least not with me.
In spiritual matters, I was always taught to defer to my pastor. Though my mom would say that they were just people with their flaws and foibles like everyone else, there was still this expectation that ministers were to be trusted implicitly. I would have to go through the crushing pain of spiritual abuse and exit counseling before I would confront the fallout from so much credulity in that area of my life.
In spiritual matters, I was always taught to defer to my pastor. Though my mom would say that they were just people with their flaws and foibles like everyone else, there was still this expectation that ministers were to be trusted implicitly. I would have to go through the crushing pain of spiritual abuse and exit counseling before I would confront the fallout from so much credulity in that area of my life.
Daffodils,
Betrayal and Wishful Thinking
Over the
past year or two, I've written
much about the trappings of my
tendency to believe the best about people and to look for the
good in them – a
quality that I like in myself. But as leopards don't tend to
change their spots, I would face more of the same old challenges. I
found myself in another perfect storm of unrealistic expectations,
disingenuous promises, more lack of relationship structure than I've
ever encountered before, and my hope against hope that wishing would
make things so. (That's what I was taught to do. All I needed was
more faith.)
Someone
involved in the complicated mix used the analogy that my skin was
just too thin. After much thought, I didn't think it was a matter of
resisting attack that pierced me to easily. That was a part of
things, but the worst of it was more like the poison of the promises
that I swallowed all to readily without learning more about what it
was that I was about to ingest. Those whom I was sure would never
betray me did so in a way that I'd never experienced before. And I
shoulda-woulda-coulda known and done better – and didn't.
Another person wisely pointed out that I did come away from the experience with many
valuable lessons – but they were just not the ones that I expected
to glean at the outset. I found some lovely people and familiar
truths along the way. Old lessons took on deeper meaning – but I
realized something entirely new.
Love Your
Enemies
Several people basically declared themselves to be my enemies, and poor opinions and unprofessional conduct turned into some outright lies. I thought of Jesus' words to love enemies and to do all that stuff that sounds counterintuitive. “We need love the most when we deserve it the least.” I revisited Corrie ten Boom's wisdom and lessons of forgiveness that she learned through the death camp of Ravensbruch. I set my heart to love my critics every day and prayed for them and believed the best and kept on doing so. I took solace in Corrie's words about love being painful and the risk that a part of us dies when we try to shut down pain when people won't receive our love.
Several people basically declared themselves to be my enemies, and poor opinions and unprofessional conduct turned into some outright lies. I thought of Jesus' words to love enemies and to do all that stuff that sounds counterintuitive. “We need love the most when we deserve it the least.” I revisited Corrie ten Boom's wisdom and lessons of forgiveness that she learned through the death camp of Ravensbruch. I set my heart to love my critics every day and prayed for them and believed the best and kept on doing so. I took solace in Corrie's words about love being painful and the risk that a part of us dies when we try to shut down pain when people won't receive our love.
I made a meme of Corrie's quote that advises the Christian to pray for a new route for love to flow to those with whom we haven't connected. But as is the case when you're raised in a skewed belief system or one that people misinterpret and teach it as holy writ, I remembered anew that I just didn't just flip a switch to reset my thinking. Unchallenged ideas still linger like tendrils wrapped around everything about my life. From that starting point, I set out to follow the sage advice of Corrie ten Boom and the words of Jesus to “fix my problem.”
It was
not until I'd walked away from my relationship to that group of
people and then grieved their loss that I saw the simple wisdom in a
new lesson that transformed from an idea into a solid truth. I
looked at my dedicated process of loving my critics as some kind of
formula that would turn everything into what I had hoped that it
would be. I did love others in that process – and it was very hard
at times. I realized the many mistakes that I made by making
these people objects by turning them into sainted heroes, but
long before they'd earned my trust in not only words but through
their actions. I also remembered that any kind of trust always
involves risk.
Clarity
Clarity
I began
to wonder if Corrie ten Boom had it right about love. I'd asked God,
over and over, to open up a new route for my love to flow to those
who just seemed to hate me more and more. In hindsight and from a
safe place, I can see now that I went right back into cult thinking –
that Scripture is some
kind of formula, and if I get the mix of faith and works and duty
and love just right, I will get what I want.
I
realized that I didn't lack love for those who declared themselves my
enemies. I had the formula. Love, bless, pray... And I kept
thinking of a proverb that says that if your ways please God, you'll
find a place of peace with your enemies. That's what I expected and
sought, and I dug in my heels. God would open up another route for
love to flow so that I could find my comfortable niche among people
who would accept me and my honest love for them. Corrie's quote just
turned into another formula.
Love
And then it hit me! Love your neighbor as yourself. In all of this loving I labored at, I became my own worst critic and second-guessed myself silly. Things fell miserably short of my expectations. Granted, given the promises and the objectives we shared, my expectations weren't that unreasonable. But where and how was that love supposed to flow?
I remembered that love is gentle and kind. The analogy for the Holy Spirit is that of a dove that only lights where it feels safe and welcomed. Corrie ten Boom says that love is the strongest force in the universe, yet at the same time, I'd forgotten that love doesn't push us or drag us. It beckons us, ever so softly, to follow it as it flows.
It became crystal clear. I'd failed to love my hardest critic and my biggest enemy. So simply, I let that flow of love return to my own heart to affirm the love and respect that I must have for myself. God shows it to me through gentle kindness and comfort. I've known this all of my life, but the old casing of what I was told it meant fell away. In following the formula (though not a bad thing to do as a discipline at first – as haters are often hard to love), I'd failed myself more than I'd disappointed anyone else.
And then it hit me! Love your neighbor as yourself. In all of this loving I labored at, I became my own worst critic and second-guessed myself silly. Things fell miserably short of my expectations. Granted, given the promises and the objectives we shared, my expectations weren't that unreasonable. But where and how was that love supposed to flow?
I remembered that love is gentle and kind. The analogy for the Holy Spirit is that of a dove that only lights where it feels safe and welcomed. Corrie ten Boom says that love is the strongest force in the universe, yet at the same time, I'd forgotten that love doesn't push us or drag us. It beckons us, ever so softly, to follow it as it flows.
It became crystal clear. I'd failed to love my hardest critic and my biggest enemy. So simply, I let that flow of love return to my own heart to affirm the love and respect that I must have for myself. God shows it to me through gentle kindness and comfort. I've known this all of my life, but the old casing of what I was told it meant fell away. In following the formula (though not a bad thing to do as a discipline at first – as haters are often hard to love), I'd failed myself more than I'd disappointed anyone else.
I
thought much about how perfect
love casts out fear. I doubt that my
knees will never knock again, but at least in this relationship
with others and myself – today – I understand much more than I
have before. I was full
of fear and my heart was broken – and I turned myself into my
own casualty. The route for love to flow that God opened up for me
flowed into my heart. And how very interesting that those fears and
that frenzy that I felt just melted into a memory.
In days
to come, I know that I'll forget some part of this and will need
reminded of such a simple thing. But that's okay. (I'm willful, so
it comes with the territory.) I think that's how life works. From
daffodils,
sweet dreams, flying machines in pieces on the ground, and the human
trappings of the CranioRectal
Inversions (cognitive bias), I'm living and learning – and
recalling that not everyone is a Naomi. (And I'm letting love flow
and overflow. There is plenty of love and good stuff for all.)