The Real Me

So about a year ago I made a life changing decision, I took a bible study, Making Peace With Your Past. This study was a very big eye opener for me.

Let me start by telling you that I grew up in a christian home. We were always in church and very active. I didn't know what it was like not to be there. But just because I grew up knowing who Christ was from day one does not mean that we did not have some dysfunction in our family.

I'm sure you are thinking; what if your family reads this? I'm okay with that. See I am learning that the only way to recover form the past is to face the past. So I am here today to do that.

Though I learned about God at an early age, I have always had a hard time accepting who I was in Him. I never saw my self as worthy, princess or even His daughter. I just told myself,"how could He love someone like me?" The main reason for that thought, my mom was not the most positive person. She may not remember but she made a lot of negative comments about my weight even when I was not big. Through summers spent with great friends (who let me eat whatever I wanted, thanks John and Annett) to high school when I stayed very active. I didn't feel that I measured up to her expectations.

Please hear me, I love my mom very much! I just have a lot that I need to overcome to know that I know that I know, I am beautiful to God no matter what. That is where Making Peace With Your Past comes in. It help me break down the dysfunction in my mind and understand that it wasn't my fault. But I also couldn't blame my mom either. See, we can't blame someone for treating us that way when they grew up that way. I come from a long line of depressed women. My great grandmother dealt with breast cancer during the depression (no money) so I would say she probably suffered from Depression. She raised my grandmother through all of that. Then my grandmother, Rachel, became a single mom when my mother was about 2. My grandfather was not a nice man I learned later. So, she had to deal with raising a daughter on her own, working full time in public school, and helping out on the farm. If she didn't get stressed, depressed or anxious it would surprise me. Then my mom grew up and had my brother and I. She has admitted to that she suffered from depression when I was younger. I believe that she has always dealt with it. Then I grew up. Once God gave me great friends to help me through some challenges in my life, I learned that I suffered from depression. Do you see the cycle or even the curse that the women in my family have dealt with?

It had to stop! I got the help that some told me I didn't need because of the 'drugs' I was putting into my body, but my true friends told me that I would be a much better person getting it under control. So, thats what I did. Then I got pregnant! Exciting day for me to find out and scary too. See because I had already been dealing with depression for two years and taking meds for one year, I was unsure of what to expect. I tried coming off the medication during my pregnancy but it did not make me a nice person. So, I stayed on them and had two children through all of the medication. I know that I am a better wife, mom, friend and overall person when I'm on my medicine.

I did what my mom couldn't do. I choose to do whatever it took to make me a better person. See I remember my mom sleeping while I waited for the bus by myself at 6 years old. I remember dressing myself for school and fixing my breakfast without her. I know she doesn't remember all of those things and I'm okay with that. I just knew that I did not want that for my kids. I broke the chain of depression by tackling it head on. I took the Making Peace class so help me understand my childhood and to know God doesn't blame me for anything. God wants me to use my experiences to help others overcome the family history and curse.

So, this is the start of the real me. I hope that it all makes since because I can get my words to paper but I can't make the sentences look right. So don't judge my grammar, HaHa! Please send me fed back, I would love to hear what's on your mind.

Thanks, Jenn

PS: more real stuff to come.

Cathedrals

Perspective on Motherhood: The Invisible Woman

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right.

By Nicole Johnson

It started to happen gradually …

One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?"

"Nobody," he shrugged.

Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street I thought, "Oh my goodness, nobody?"

I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family - like "Turn the TV down, please" - and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing.

Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking.

That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see me. I don't think anyone can see me.

I'm invisible.

 It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I'm invisible.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."

 I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.

She's going … she's going … she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this."

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."

And the workman replied, "Because God sees."

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

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This excerpt from Nicole Johnson's novel The Invisible Woman (W Publishing Group, 2005) is reprinted with permission. For more information, check out the author's Web site atwww.freshbrewedlife.com

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