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My Pool (Part Four)

September 24, 2009 in Adultery, Faith, Family, Friends, Jenni, Life Experience, Marriage, Personal Entries with 32 Comments

After almost two years, the affair ended… as all do in one way or another. And there I was: alone with my thoughts.. I had been treading for almost 30 years in very murky, polluted waters.

All I ever wanted was to matter.

I wanted to be LOVED by someone…
I wanted to be GREAT at something…
I wanted to be REMEMBERED when I was gone…

And the truth was… I had MADE it. By the age of 30 I had attained everything I ever set out to acquire. So why did I feel like such a nobody?

My relationship with God was starting to pick up again. This was good except He wanted to heal me. The NERVE, right? He was starting to reveal root issues I had buried so deeply, I wasn’t even aware they existed. These were things I wasn’t ready to face.

My life was a swimming pool FULL of trash. God was helping me bring all of my rubbish to the surface, but it was up to me whether I wanted to use my net to fish it out. I knew if I were to grab the net, I would have to really look at the trash before I could destroy it once and for all. It was much easier to just push everything back down and just never swim in the pool.

On the outside, my life still looked fine. I accepted a new position at a local church plant in Portland as the Worship Pastor. Brian and I got pregnant and birthed another healthy little boy, Paxton. Chance started his first year of preschool. I was happy… but I should have been ecstatic about my life. My secrets were eating me alive. I was missing out on my OWN life and couldn’t recognize it.

You see… my pool wasn’t only for me. Brian, Chance, Paxton, our family, and all our friends were gathered around it… just waiting for me to give them the “ok” to jump in and play. And man, did they want to play… it’s always a hot day around here. But my pool was polluted and not safe for anyone to swim in.

It was time to clean my pool.

I told Brian about my affair, and the following 5 months were beyond painful. My pool had been stirred and now the waters looked murkier. I didn’t know if we were going to make it. By the looks of it, this mess was getting worse. This was NOT what I had signed up for.

As I was “fishing”, I began to get really angry. I noticed that though most of the trash was tossed in by ME, a LOT of it was from other people. However, I had a choice: to place blame and wait for “them” to come clean up their litter, or just take ownership and clean the parts that affected me. I was mourning some deep, deep issues for the first time. It hurt… but it was good..

While God was re-surfacing all my trash, and I was obediently fishing each and every item out one-by-one… my friends and loved ones had put a brand new filter in my pool. I didn’t know it at the time, but the friends and family we had told were intercessing on our behalf. They were helping me clean my pool without me even asking.

** Thank you, my dear friends. Even now, as I write this, I sit… tearfully and humbly thankful to each and every one of you. Thank you. **

My focus was tightly wrapped up in the rubbish I was taking out. I mourned each and every re-surfaced piece of trash I once treasured. I was permanently destroying the remnants of my garbage in a huge bonfire… when one day, Brian and I looked in and noticed the most amazing sight. Not only were the waters clean, but the once cluttered pool bottom was now cleared of ALL debris. And there stood Jesus, inviting us in with some floaty recliners and margaritas, complete with those cute little drink umbrellas made by underaged and underpaid third world children (you still there? just checkin’ to see if you’re still reading).

Friends… all of us have a pool. And if we don’t tend to it, it will become polluted and dirty, rendering it completely useless. I also want to reiterate that I didn’t do this alone. Christ was there, Brian was there, and friends were there.

This can’t happen overnight. It’s really grueling work that seems hopeless and never-ending at times. You don’t have to do it alone… but to get help, you need to be willing to show others how dirty your pool really is. I, for one, promise to help get you a filter for your pool if you tell me you need one.

I’m not saying my pool will be clean forever. Occasionally, trash will drift in and the water will get stagnant. I know Brian and I will need to drain the pool at times in our next 70+ years together and put fresh water in… but it sure is a lot easier to upkeep when we don’t let it build up.

What’s in your pool?
Isn’t it time to go swimming with all your loved ones?

I think so, friends… I think so.

————–

To read the whole series:
Part One: In My Daddy’s Lap
Part Two: Floater
Part Three: My Empire

Floater (Part Two)

September 23, 2009 in Childhood, Jenni, Life Experience, Personal Entries with 9 Comments

My parents’ divorce was finalized before I started Middle School.

My Mother sold our house in Seattle and bought a new one in Bellevue (45 minute distance between these two homes). She said the schools were better there so that’s why we were moving.

The next seven years consisted of my Mother transferring me through three different schools: public, private, then public again. Each time, I saw the same thing: groups of friends that have been friends since childhood. I was always the “new” girl and never found “my group”. I wouldn’t say I didn’t have friends… I actually had many friends… but no close friends.

I was a floater…

You see, growing up wasn’t easy for me. We weren’t “well-to-do” but my Mother ALWAYS provided clean clothes, shelter and plenty of food. We NEVER missed a meal and we even got to go on vacations every now and then. But that’s not all a kid needs for healthy growth.

My Mother was way too tapped out to spend quality time with any of us. She was tired all the time, never getting any breaks. She was gone by the time we got up in the morning for school (and I had cheer practice at zero period = 6:30am) and was home after 6pm.

But I had a lot of questions… overwhelming uncertainties. Lots of changes happen for a girl between the ages of 12 and 18. I needed my Mom to speak God’s purpose into me. I needed to hear that even my dreams were limitless. I needed to see that there was grace in mistakes and that mistakes are needed to help us grow. I wanted to be pretty… to be pursued… I needed to matter to someone. I needed to be significant.

However, I didn’t find any of this with my Mother.

Every question I ever asked would be quickly dismissed as “stupid”.
Every disagreement… I was “stubborn”.
Every expressed desire… “selfish”
Every time I had a crush or my heart was broken… “waste of time”
Every pursuit to enhance how I looked… “ugly”

Nothing I ever did was good enough. If I brought home an A-, “Why didn’t you get an A?”

Every thought I ever shared with her would always land us in a full out fight. I shouldn’t say “fight” because, oh… I never fought back. That would mean death… or at least a few good slaps in the face. Instead, I should say it was a “high tension lecture” that ended me with my tail between my legs. It wasn’t safe for me to express anything.

Consciously, I knew I needed companionship and couldn’t do life alone… but subconsciously, I believed I was destined to be alone. I believed if I ever cared about anyone deep enough or long enough, they would eventually leave me… just like my Dad did physically, and how my Mom did emotionally.

I was a floater… in my own home.

I realized if I was going to survive, and I was GOING to, I had to do it myself. I didn’t trust my Mother. I didn’t trust my family. I didn’t trust my friends. Controlling myself and the things around me became my obsession.

I didn’t have anyone… so I found protection within the four walls of building significance for myself.

“I will make myself into somebody! I will make myself irreplaceable!”

… so began the building of my fortress… my empire….

(to be continued)

———–

Part One – “In My Daddy’s Lap”

In My Daddy’s Lap (Part One)

September 23, 2009 in Childhood, Jenni, Life Experience, Personal Entries with 10 Comments

My parents divorced when I was seven.

Wait… actually… I have no idea WHEN they divorced. The accurate statement would be… the announcement of the divorce happened when I was seven.

My childhood before seven was somewhat innocently happy. I remember Dad teaching me how to play “cat’s cradle“ and Mom bringing home the most amazing birthday cakes. But what’s interesting is, I don’t remember much of anything about my family life between the ages of seven and twelve. I have NO MEMORIES of home life in that 5 year life span.

Uh… therapy anyone? Yeah… don’t worry… I’m on that like a fat kid on a box of ding-dongs.

Let’s back up a bit: The day my mother told us they were divorcing, I remember feeling EXTREMELY confused.

I was old enough to know what “divorce” meant, but I never heard OR saw my parents fight. Heck… I barely remembered ever seeing them talk. I never thought the divorce was my fault, but I didn’t know WHY they needed a divorce since everything seemed “fine”. What confused me even more was why my Mom pulled us three girls into my bedroom to tell us ALONE when my Dad was sitting right in the living room watching football. ”Isn’t this something they should be doing together?” I kept asking myself.

It felt like an hour had passed in that room. I didn’t hear a thing that was said. I remember my sister, Renee, crying and my baby sister, Helen, crawling all over the place. That baby had no clue our world was about to drastically change. All I wanted to do was get OUT of that room and jump into my Dad’s lap.

Once the “meeting” was over… I did just that.

My sister, Renee, and I ran and jumped into my Dad’s lap. I remember Renee asking him,

“Why, Daddy?… WHY? Why are you leaving us?”

Then I heard the words I would never forget:

“Because this is what your Mom wants.”

Then, the unimaginable happened. My Dad broke down and cried…

I had NEVER seen my Dad cry. NEVER…

in the center of the couch of our family room…
with football television as a faint background noise…
we sat…
weeping…
in my father’s lap for the very last time.

Something inside me died that day.

At age seven, sitting there for the last time ever in my Daddy’s lap, I made my first lifetime decision: