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Journeys To Mother Love

~ Encouragement and healing in mother/child relationships

Journeys To Mother Love

Tag Archives: Courage to be honest

Journeying Together: A Group Interview

05 Thursday Jun 2014

Posted by Catherine Lawton in childhood memories, confessing our need, encouraging each other, God's healing love, the healing journey

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

authentic relationship, Courage to be honest, Emotional and spiritual healing, Finding our identity, friendship, life's upward path, milestones, Mothering, personal discoveries

Meadow-flowers-sillouette copy
All nine of us participated in this group interview, answering questions about our stories in the book, Journeys to Mother Love. We’ve enjoyed getting to know each other better through this process, almost as if we were sitting around a living room and sharing round the circle. Pull up a chair and listen in!

INTERVIEW

1. Did you laugh or cry, or both, while you were writing your story?a pink butterfly

Ellen Cardwell: Surprisingly, I didn’t do either. Rather, writing the story released something inside that needed to come out. I feel lighter now whenever Mom comes to mind.

Treva Brown: I completely did both. I also felt anger, but was able to fully release it quickly.

Ardis Nelson: I went away to a secluded camp so I could focus on writing and prayer. I cried at times. Now my tears are tears of joy.

Kerry Luksic: In writing this story, I had plenty of tears. My mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s eight years ago. It was hard to accept that there’s no cure and that it’s progressive–Mom would only get worse through each heartbreaking stage. But in sharing this story, the tears I shed were healing for me.

Loritta Slayton: I don’t think I did either, but I felt the emotions again–the upset, the struggle and the joy of what God accomplished in me that I couldn’t do for myself.

Kyleen Stevenson-Braxton: I always cry when I write about God’s grace in giving me two beautiful adopted children. It reminds me afresh of his mercy and love.

a pink butterfly2. What do you especially relate to in one or more of the other women’s stories? 

A.R. (Alice) Cecil: I can relate to all the other authors in JOURNEYS TO MOTHER LOVE. We all found the only way to healing is through Jesus Christ, and we all want to help others by sharing our experience.

Catherine Lawton: Treva Brown tells of how her mother died even younger than mine did (and by much more violent circumstances). I relate to her regret over some of the words she had said to her mother, and wishing she had said certain other words before it was too late.

Ellen: The last part of Loritta Slayton’s story, “White Knuckles,” took me back to when my mother needed my help and our roles were reversed. God encouraged and enabled her to let go of hurt feelings and journey down the path to love.

Treva: In “Walking My Mother Home” Ardis Nelson wrote, “I was embracing the parts of my mother that were in me.” I am currently doing that now, so it really touched my heart.

Ardis: I think I was the most moved by Loritta’s story. I felt her pain with each decision she made along her journey with her mother. The ending to her story was a fitting ending to the book—very encouraging.

Loritta: The emotional process of their hurts being released to God and their journeys of walking it out with Him speak to me. I was moved by Treva’s descriptions of this process.

a pink butterfly  3. In what point in your relationship with your mother or child did you realize you needed relational healing?

Alice: My mother was always closer to me than any of her other children; I sensed her unhappiness and wanted to try to be there for her. Then in my early twenties I left home for the city to work. Transported into the world, I began to see not all the ways in my childhood home matched the ordinary way of going about life.

Catherine: The need in my heart became evident when I was going through grief over my mother’s death. As you can read in the book, the Lord has ways of healing our relationships even when separated by distance, disease or death.

Ellen: When I was a new Christian and learned how important it was to forgive others. Also at that time, the relationship with our mothers was a topic of discussion with my close friends, all of whom felt they had emotional gaps that their parents, especially their mothers, hadn’t filled.

Treva: Years after she died. It was a hard journey because I was unable to talk to my mom and hear her respond. But I wouldn’t change a thing, for that is where I truly encountered God.

Loritta: I knew most of my life that it wasn’t what it should be. But when I read A Daughter’s Journey Home, by Dr. Linda Mintle, some of the pieces of the puzzle came into focus. I began to pray about my relationship with my mother and ask God to work in us. And my journaling with God and the listening practice opened the door significantly.

4. What makes the mother/child relationship so significant? a pink butterfly

Ardis: I think the mother/child relationship is a mirror of the love our heavenly father has for us.

Kerry: I never realized until I had my own children, but at the end of the day, a mother’s love for a child is the strongest bond that exists.

Kyleen: I think that, since I wanted children and was unable to have them, it has made me appreciate what so many women take for granted. I envy the blessings of being pregnant, of giving birth, of seeing your features in your child’s face, of knowing they came from your body. But God has taught me that he is the maker of families, and I am blessed knowing that Jesus, too, was adopted (by Joseph). So my children are to me the very face of God. To me they represent all that he is – his goodness, kindness, and love.

5. What events, sensory experiences, etc., trigger your memories of a pink butterflyyour mother?

Catherine: My mother had a quip, saying, or song for every situation or occasion, it seemed. Those sayings and songs pop into my head often and remind me of her. I still “hear” her voice.

Ellen: Going to the farmer’s market, smelling apple pies baking … sewing, bringing flowers into the house … Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays.

Treva: A certain Dolly Parton song, camping and eating spaghetti. My mom loved spaghetti.

Ardis: This may sound strange, but I think I am most reminded of my mother in my writing and speaking opportunities. I feel that she would be proud of me for who I am finally becoming, and that gives me a great sense of her presence with me. In a way, this makes up for not having her there when I was young.

Loritta: She enjoyed flowers and colors in shades of purples, aquas, violets. Just this week I walked past orchids in the grocery store that are tinted in those tones and thought of her.

6. Do you ever see your mom in yourself?  a pink butterfly

Catherine: Every time I make the choice and the effort to be positive, to engage with other people when I feel like pulling away … I think of my mother who modeled those attitudes to me.

Ellen: Yes. She had an authoritative way of speaking. She would make pronouncements (not always based on facts), pontificate, and discourage discussion. I still find myself sounding like her, even though I’ve tried for years to overcome it. When I notice myself doing the same thing, it lets me know how ingrained her attitudes were/are in me. I feel frustrated that it’s still there inside my personality. Then I’m motivated to revisit my efforts to change and make it more of a priority to do so.

Treva: At times I do. I used to despise it. But God was able to bring me to a place of embracing those characteristics and bring me more understanding of my mom.

Verna Hill Simms: I remind myself of Mother every time I sit in the living room and watch for the mail carrier. Mail means a lot to me as it did to her.

Ardis: This question hits to the core area of my personal healing when my mother died. I was able to integrate and embrace the parts of my mother that I had been rejecting all my life. Thanks to the Lord’s work in me, I am no longer embarrassed by our similarities.

Kerry: Yes. I especially see my mom in myself when I’m faced with a tough challenge. My mom never gave up on anything and she leaned on her faith during the hardest times. When I’m going through a tough time, I think of mom and follow her example. Whenever I feel like life is a bit too hard, I remember my mom’s example and immediately feel stronger.

7. In what way is mother love a journey?   a pink butterfly

Alice: I wonder how God would have brought me along without children! I know there are people who do not have children and who have a deep relationship with God, but God knew I needed children!

Ellen: For me, mother love grew from an unrealistic ideal to a reality based on experience. Each stage of our children’s growth, from elementary school to junior high to high school has challenges of its own. As I journeyed along with my children, my love was tested, strengthened and developed through the ups and downs they experienced. My love grew from the tenderest feelings for our infants to caring for their needs while juggling other responsibilities, to tough love as they tested boundaries. Mother love survived the smooth and rocky places along the path because, I believe, it originates in God’s love for us all.

Ardis: I am seeing this theme poignantly in my life now. Just today I had a conversation with my 15 year old son about this. We had connecting time while attending a doctor’s appointment. I didn’t have any of that with my parents. I am embracing the journey of learning how to mother anew, be a “sister” to Rosa, an “aunt” to Pedro, and a daughter to my stepmother. This journey is connecting me with my heart and allowing me to share it with others.

Kerry: Mother love is a journey because life is a journey. There are ups and there are downs; there are moments of joy and moments of sheer pain; but through all of it, love is the foundation. My mom has progressed to the advanced-stage of Alzheimer’s and this is the final destination in our journey. Alzheimer’s is a heartbreaking disease, but I have peace knowing that at the end of my mom’s journey here on earth, she will be rewarded for her lifetime of love. faith, and determination–the gift of Heaven.

Loritta: You can’t understand everything from one vantage point. You have to climb that mountain and look back sometimes, and other times you just have to put your hand in God’s and let Him talk to you about what you need to know that only He can reveal in a way that you can receive.

Kyleen: Learning to love unconditionally, to bring out the best in your children, to be their cheerleader and to guide them with kindness is not always easy, especially when your own relationship with your mother was strained. Still, it is a noble and worthy endeavor. This is the journey God asks us to take as mothers.

All the authors and their stories

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Leaving a Legacy of Healing

25 Saturday Jan 2014

Posted by ardisanelson in challenges of motherhood, emotional needs, forgiving mom, generational patterns, God's healing love, leaving a legacy, Parenting, the healing journey

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Courage to be honest, Emotional and spiritual healing, Finding our identity, Forgiveness, Healing love, life and death, Modeling the faith, Parenting

Evening Light on the Grasses

Lately I’ve been struck with reminders of the importance of legacy and purpose in our lives—most recently while attending a memorial service for someone I knew at church who died suddenly before Christmas. She was a vibrant part of our church community, serving in many capacities, but most notably as Lady Jellybean, a beloved clown in the children’s ministry. Her passing was a great loss to all who knew her.

This got me to thinking more about the legacy that I’m leaving. What will people say about me after I’m gone? How will my family remember me? I’m the first to admit that I don’t have it all together, that I am at times overwhelmed by all the irons I have in the fire, and even that I’ve fallen short of my kids’ or my husband’s expectations.

I came into marriage over thirty years ago carrying a lot of baggage from a turbulent and empty childhood. I didn’t have the kind of parents who modeled a godly marriage or who poured into my siblings and me in ways that bonded us on an emotional level. Quite the contrary, we didn’t know anything about emotional bonding.

It wasn’t until much later in life, when I re-dedicated my life to Christ, and started attending Bible studies, spiritual growth classes, and Celebrate Recovery, that I realized the damage I was causing in my own family and in myself.

As I started to understand things about myself, learned what I hadn’t received emotionally (or have modeled to me), I began to make changes in my parenting and my relationship with my husband—though both are still far from perfect. The point is, we can make changes in our lives that will affect the legacy we leave behind.

Case in point: although my mother was mentally ill all her life, I realized in her passing three years ago that she didn’t leave me a legacy of mental illness as I had feared she would. She left me a great legacy of faith by modeling that to me. I didn’t appreciate it when I was young, but see it now as a vibrant part of who I am.

Before my father passed away the following year, there was a great deal of healing between us as well. Those last few months gave both of us peace in his passing. Those are the memories that stand out to me now as I think of what he gave me. I attribute that to God’s work in me and my ability to forgive both of my parents early on in my recovery and healing process.

I am breaking the generational curse of dysfunction by modeling biblical principles with my sons. I wish I had known then—when my kids were young—what I know now. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if they enter into the therapeutic process because of things I said or did out of my parenting and biblical ignorance.

My hope in all of this is that, when I’m dead and gone, my sons will remember that I had a heart for Jesus and that He became the foundation of my life. And when they decide to enter into the healing process, I hope and pray that they will embrace it with grace for themselves and their imperfect parents, along with embracing their Abba Father, who is the Healer of all wounds.

“Lord my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me.” Psalm 30:2, NIV

~ Ardis A. Nelson

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Growth Rings in the New Year

02 Thursday Jan 2014

Posted by Catherine Lawton in childhood memories, the healing journey

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Christian spirituality, Courage to be honest, Family traditions, Fish, life's upward path, New Year

Fishing with my parents as a girl

Showing off the little trout I caught, about age nine, with my parents at Big Sur, California, circa 1959

It’s January 2 and why am I thinking about fish?

Well, taking a walk down memory lane and looking through old photos, I find plenty of snapshots of my family fishing. My mother and sister and I followed Daddy down trout streams in the California coastal hills and in the high Sierras many times. Those are some of my happiest memories: jumping from rock to rock along crystal-clear creeks, collecting colorful pebbles, learning to hold my little pink fishing pole, savoring fresh-caught trout fried over a fire.

Now that my husband and I live in Colorado, we often see fisher men and women along city ponds, thigh-deep in cascading mountain rivers, and casting flies into high-meadow streams and beaver ponds. This winter, as lakes are freezing over, we’ll soon see ice-fishing huts.

Fish

Many times in my life I’ve considered the secretive, flashing beauty of fish, heard them slap the water when they jump, watched my dad snag and reel in silvery beauties, gut and clean the keepers, scrape off scales. Not until this year, though, have I looked closely enough to consider the intricacy of a single fish scale and what it has to teach us.

In her book, Unwrapping Wonder: Finding Hope in the Gift of Nature, Carol O’Casey explains:

“What intrigues me about fish scales is … the rings of a fish scale represent years of growth. Similarly, our lives are inscribed with growth rings. God desires to enlarge our lives, our territory, and our character. However, unlike fish, our greatest growth occurs during the darkest times. Can we depend on ourselves during this time? Forget about it. It is precisely in rough waters, and when our resources are exhausted, that we cannot depend on ourselves. Growth occurs on the rim of risk. You risk failure, disappointment, loss. You gain growth. Occasionally, God has to nudge (okay, shove is more like it) us out of our comfort zones to enlarge our rings.”

As this new year begins, I’m asking myself: How has the Lord been nudging me out of my comfort zone in the past year? What growth rings will I, as a result, carry with me into the coming year and beyond? Will I continue to cooperate with Him in developing my “scales” as both a protective covering and a display of beauty created by His presence and grace in my life?

~ Catherine Lawton

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Run, Run as Fast as You Can

21 Thursday Nov 2013

Posted by arcecil in childhood memories, confessing our need, emotional needs, encouraging each other, generational patterns, God's healing love, Influence of Grandparents, letting go of anger, the healing journey

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

authentic relationship, Christian spirituality, Courage to be honest, Emotional and spiritual healing, Finding our identity, God the Father, Grandparent, Modeling the faith, Parenting

File:Gingerbread landscape.jpg

photo:Orsotron (Wikipedia)

Sunny days must have consistently won over rainy ones when I was a school-aged child because most of my memories are rooted in the long treks after the three o’clock dismissal. I would hightail it home, taking every shortcut through the backyards that stood between the elementary school and my front door.

“Run, run as fast as you can,” I would tell my feet, as I was distancing myself from those immature children who picked favorites and then picked on those they had deemed inferior.

There was no doubt whether or not I was on the list of the popular kids, but I never was ridiculed because I made myself invisible, an ability I learned from the dynamics in my home. This skill was utilized in almost every social circle. Go to school, do a little work; come home and see how my mother was doing; that routine suited me very well until it dawned on me that I could not remain invisible forever and survive.

One day when school was dismissed, the bright blue sky suddenly turned black and then proceeded to release every drop of its accumulated precipitation. “Run, run as fast as you can,” I told my feet. “Run to get out of the rain.”

At home I found my mother dozing on the day bed in the den while the soap operas told the sordid intermingling of the lives of beautiful people. I stopped in the bathroom and rubbed my wet hair with a towel. A glance in the mirror did not reveal a beautiful person, and I couldn’t blame the rain. Here at the onset of my teen years, I was faced with a great dilemma: I desperately wanted to fit in, but I was afraid.

Dropping my wet clothes on the floor, I pulled on a casual outfit which included my favorite sweatshirt. In it, I felt secure. Then I slid onto the couch that sat adjacent to my mother’s bed.

As I was my mother’s companion for TV’s “Guiding Light,” I imagined myself to be my father’s silent confidant, ever ready to pour out words of encouragement and comfort whenever he would choose to turn and acknowledge me. Something sad was brewing in his heart, and I wanted to help him. But he never chose to confide in me. Where was he, so deep in thought? Was he replaying the time he spent in World War II and the unbelievable atrocities he saw there?

I felt powerless to solve my parents’ problems. So I determined someday to lift them up on the shoulders of my happiness. Such was the grand, warped plan of my childhood.

As I waited for that bright future, I found some semblance of relationship with my maternal grandmother. I was drawn to her orderly home and gentle, disciplined spirit. And she was religious. While the entire extended family went to church every Sunday, she was the only one who put voice to her faith; she was the one who lived out the gospel with steadfast endurance. Grandmother had no time for moping. She hit the linoleum running in the morning. She had her share of difficulties, but she never let them define her.

Time slowly passed and, with great delight, I left the teen years behind. At twenty I was preparing to leave for the city to fulfill my destiny. But first I visited Grandmother. I nervously chatted away, keeping the conversation light and funny. All that talking, however, took an unexpected, woeful turn. Out tumbled many fears with a hint of the underlying anger. Then, since I didn’t like what I was hearing myself say, I iced it over by backtracking with remarks that served only as a layer of guilt.

There is no hope for me, I groaned within my spirit. Grandmother, however, intently listened without interrupting, like a psychologist who is assessing her client’s situation. When I finished, silence filled the space between us and I wanted to flee. But then Grandmother spoke and her words revealed the strength behind her small frame.

“We must take up our cross,” she simply said.

Our cross? What does the cross have to do with my plans for a life where everything is tidy, happy, and successful? What was Grandmother talking about?

While I could not make the connection of Christ’s cross to my life, Grandmother’s statement sank deep within my soul where it lay dormant for many years.

Grandmother lived to see me marry a fine man and have one daughter. My plans for a good life were set in motion. I kept our home immaculate. During the holidays, it looked like a Christmas card. Every spring and summer the flower beds declared: “Care and love reside within.” Boundless energy undergirded the dream. As long as I worked hard and pretended to be happy, surely my heart would catch up with my outward persona. However, deep down inside there was a faint echo: “Not right! Not right! Something’s missing.”

Then the second daughter was born. After one month of caring for the baby that would not settle, she was diagnosed with cancer. Fourteen months passed, and the surgery and radiation treatments did not fulfill their intended purpose; the cancer was back and now in her bone marrow. Chemotherapy was the new, last hope.

“Run, run as fast as you can,” I read to the older sister. “You can’t catch me. I’m the gingerbread man.”

Run, run to be there for the five-year-old sibling. Run, run to take care of the house, to look after the baby, to keep all of her appointments. … Run, run, I was running out of steam.

There were many rounds of chemotherapy. She received a treatment every day for one week, every third week, for two years. After one of the toddler’s chemotherapy treatments, I was sitting beside her on my big bed that had been prepared for her body’s violent reaction to the toxins. Several hours of vomiting and diarrhea would soon begin. While she slept, I read a book about an encounter a man had with Jesus when he was in prayer. (The book came into my life because I was searching for something/anything to help me cope.) I put the book down and let the pent-up tears flow. I was so sad. More than sad, I was angry. In my mind in that moment, the sleeping child beside me was not going to have the chance for a full life.

“I’ve done everything I know to do,” I told the ceiling. “It’s up to you now!”

Of course, I was not calling out to the ceiling, but to our heavenly Father. The prayer was a two-pronged one: one prong for the recovery of my sick child and one for me. I was tired, and I was lost. I was confused, and my best efforts had failed. I was so tired. “Run, run,” I was tired of running. I could no longer outrun God.

At that very moment of the prayer, Someone else started running. “Run, run,” God the Father was running as fast as he could, for he saw one of his children turn and start coming toward him (see Luke 15:20, the account of the Prodigal Son).

Jesus entered my life that day thirty-one years ago. The experience of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit is as real to me as the physical objects around me. The sick child survived and is now a grown, healthy, married woman. I no longer run aimlessly. God is the mainspring of my life. I now understand Grandmother’s response to the fact that the cross is the answer for my life. In order to bring glory to God, I have had to take up my cross daily and follow him. But with him, my burden is light because I am held up by his everlasting arms.

Did my life turn out to be perfect? Since that day on my daughter’s sick bed, have I lived “happily-ever-after”? I can only be honest and say, “No, of course not.” Am I perfect person? No, of course, not. But, there is a huge difference between the woman who was running to make a good life and the woman who now looks to God for the answers in her life.

~A.R. Cecil

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Can a Child of Unhappy Parents Become a Happy Adult?

30 Wednesday Oct 2013

Posted by arcecil in confessing our need, emotional needs, encouraging each other, God as our parent, God's healing love, rejecting lies, the healing journey

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

a heart filled with love and hope, authentic relationship, Courage to be honest, Emotional and spiritual healing, Family, Finding our identity, life stages, mother and daughter, relationships, Sadness

A mother holds up her child.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

TRUE HAPPINESS

Recently I was given the honor of preparing and presenting my testimony at the Christian Women’s Club. The club gives each speaker 25 minutes. Reading the entire story straight from the book would take well over an hour. I would have to condense my story. Through this painful process of condensing, the Lord revealed to me a significant personal truth. Perhaps I have been the only one who did not see what was between the lines. I probably needed someone to say, “Oh, I see what you are saying.” And I then I could have responded by asking, “What? Tell me what you see.”

Since no one has been that brave, God decided to step in. I can picture him now, thinking this through: I’ll orchestrate a circumstance that will pull the personal truth out of the text! She has had a glimmer of this fact before, but now she is ready for a deeper revelation.

Our Lord knew I was ready for the bigger picture. So, I began: delete, delete, and delete some more (Oh, some of my favorite parts are falling on the cutting room floor!). Then, I added a few sentences to make up for all the deleted information. First a quote from the book: “As I was my mother’s companion for TV’s ‘Guiding Light,’ I was my father’s silent confidante, ever ready to pour out words of encouragement and comfort whenever he chose to turn and acknowledge me.” Now for the condensed add-on: “As a child, I was powerless to help my mother and father find happiness. So, I determined to someday bring happiness to them. I would lift then up on the shoulders of my happiness.”

Wow! Really? Why didn’t someone point this out to me? So, that’s what I have been doing all these years! I took on the responsibility for my parents’ happiness (and you can imagine how that life-long, self-imposed commitment played out!). Innocent children have an innate, unconditional love for their parents. They want their mother and father to be happy. They experience deep sadness when their mother and/or father is sad.

Recently I went to the downtown part of our city to take care of my mother’s business. She is in a nursing home and, since her money has been spent down, she is on Medicaid. I lingered in a large room with many other people who were also waiting to be escorted to one of the cubicles where they, like me, would speak with their case-worker. All of us, young and old, had a need for financial assistance from the government. At the end of the room were double doors that opened into a hallway. I could hear a voice from around the corner. It was a child’s voice. He was pleading with his mother. He kept repeating the same sentence. “I love you, mommy. I love you, mommy.” I did not hear the mother answer him. Was the child trying to console his mother? Was the mother displaying stress and sadness? (The reasons for being in that place are stressful and sad ones.)

I wanted to get up and go find the child, kneel down in front of him, and say, “I love you. God loves you.” If the situation I overheard was a sample of the child’s relationship with his mother, I cannot help but think: Where is their relationship heading? This child will probably turn from his mother one day in anger (and his anger may be expressed as depression. Once I heard a definition for depression, which spoke of it as being “anger turned inward”).

I am not suggesting we present a happy, go-lucky spirit with our children. That persona is unreal, and our children are as quick to pick up on it as they are the forlorn one. Rather, my message to mothers (and fathers) everywhere is that they can find true happiness in an authentic relationship with God through Jesus Christ. There is absolutely no substitute for this road to true happiness.

I just wish I could kneel in front of every child in the world and say, “I love you. God loves you.” However, we can each kneel in front of our children and say those words. We can live out the life of peace and a quiet joy. I know without any doubt that God the Father loves me. He bends down to me every day and says, “I love you. I love you.” My journey would have been greatly condensed if I had understood this truth earlier, but it has been a long, rambling road with very much between the lines.

To young mothers, I want to say: “Recognize God’s love, respond to it, teach it, and witness it to your children. It is the only genuine gift you can give them.” I am still a mother, and now I am a grandmother. I am real with my children and grandchildren. They have seen me cry in sadness and display justifiable anger on occasion. However, they see someone who is able to accept life’s many bumps in the road because the Father’s love has been realized. I am sure they can hear the echo of the Father’s words: “I love your mother. I love your grandmother.” We can give our children and grandchildren the freedom of not needing to bear the responsibility for our happiness; we can witness the presence in our lives of God, who is the source of our true happiness.

~A.R. (Alice) Cecil

p.s. (I recommend a book by Martyn Lloyd-Jones with the title: True Happiness.)

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How This Journey Started

22 Sunday Sep 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in encouraging each other, God's healing love, the healing journey

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Author, Courage to be honest, Emotional and spiritual healing, Publishing

Estes Park in Rocky Mountains, Colorado.

In the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, where the vision for “Journeys to Mother Love” began

Hard to believe, but more than a year has passed since the book Journeys to Mother Love was published and the authors started sharing this blog as well. How did these nine women, who live in all corners of this great country, come together in this way? Well, here’s the story.

As publisher and editor of Cladach Publishing, a small Christian press, I was invited to the Colorado Christian Writers Conference in Estes Park, Colorado, to give 15-minute interviews to authors. At the May, 2011 conference I spoke with three or four women in one day who had heart-wrenching personal stories that they hoped to have published as books. The authors were so passionate and full of the fresh touch of the Lord, and their stories so real and relevant for many women, that I couldn’t get away from thinking about them. By the third or fourth interview the thought came to me, with a gentle nudge from the Lord, that these stories along with others could be focused and compiled in a book that could help and encourage many readers.

When I spoke to those four women, two out of four got on board (Kyleen from Wyoming, and Loritta from Colorado). Then I sent emails to Christian writers groups across the country, with an invitation and guidelines for the mother-child, relationship-healing stories needed for this book. Varied, wonderful, authentic stories came back to me from Ardis in Washington, Alice in Kentucky, Ellen in California, Kerry in Pennsylvania, and Verna in Missouri. Then we had seven contributors!

As I worked on editing and compiling these stories, the thought dawned on me—again, with a gentle nudge—that I have a personal story myself of inner healing and relational healing. Putting some of my other publishing work on the back burner, I dug out old journals and diaries, delved again into memories of early traumas and experiences, and people and teachings that mentored and guided me through a long search for joyful wholeness.

It was an amazing experience. I had moved on to many new friendships, places, experiences in my life. But that period of inner healing was foundational to the life I was now living. And going back to review the steps, to recall those formative early experiences strengthened my faith and opened me up to sharing more deeply with others.

So we had eight stories from women of many ages. Then, as we neared the publication date for Journeys to Mother Love, I went to another conference and met a young woman with a tragic and compelling story, who had a strong testimony of forgiveness and healing. That was Treva, another from Colorado. She and I both felt that now-familiar nudge, and she agreed to work her story into the right length and shape for this book within a few weeks’ time. And then we were nine!

When the manuscript went out to readers across the country, comments came back, such as: “These stories will touch every woman’s heart” (from a woman minister in Wyoming). “Filled with authenticity” (from the leader of a street ministry in Salem, Oregon). “Arresting and unflinchingly honest” (from an author and speaker/ encourager of women in Arizona). “They teach us to take our pain to the right person, the great Healer who understands the mysteries of our hearts” (from a pastor’s wife in California).

So it was published, and many have read the book and shared it with others, finding their own stories in the midst of these women’s stories, and also finding hope for healing.

As I wrote in the Introduction to the book, “We, the writers of this book, represent four different generations and come from various backgrounds and places. What we have in common is this: We are all mothers and we all have mothers (whether or not they are still living). For each of us, coming to the place of freely receiving and giving love in the mother-child relationship has been a sometimes difficult journey. . . . We share these personal memoirs as testimonies of God’s grace. We simply and openly tell our stories in hopes that many readers, mothers and daughters like us, will be helped.”

So that’s the story of how Journeys to Mother Love came to be, the result of a series of gentle nudges. And the story and the journey continue.

~Catherine Lawton

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Light Shining into the Darkness

08 Thursday Aug 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in challenges of motherhood, childhood memories, emotional needs, grief and loss, the healing journey, when tragedy hits

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

authentic relationship, Books, Courage to be honest, Death, Emotional and spiritual healing, future hope, Mother, mother and daughter, relationships

Gadly Plain view

In relationships between husband and wife, father and daughter, mother and child, it can come as a shock to realize that—though we love and are loved—though we share a bond that unites us—we are each of us separate, individual, sometimes even, painfully, alone. Most of the time we seek and find comfort and consolation in the knowledge that the other is there, or will be there, and we aren’t alone. But if you have ever lost a close loved one to death then you know the feeling of finality, separation, other-ness, of no-more-ness that can choke the consolation out of your being.

This feeling is described well in the new novel, Gadly Plain by J. Michael Dew. The 12-year-old girl named Spring-baby loses her father to death and emotionally she falls into a chasm of sadness that “bullies her, keeps her wilted, sober.” At least she shares grief with her mother. But then her mother abandons her (because “Mom needs time for Mom”).

When the author was nine years old his own father got sick and died. The story of Gadly Plain is his artistic expression of his own inexplicable trauma and the answers he found after many years of searching for meaning in the whole experience of human history, personal life and death.

Mr. Dew is a believer and the creative vision he shares in this imaginative story is honest about human weakness and suffering, but rooted in truth and hope. The book begins with a quote: “I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse whose rider is called Faithful and True” (Rev. 19:11).

The story itself is as earthy as a body in a casket, a girl in a tree, a donkey in a pasture, hay in a barn, an old lady smoking in a bathroom, a young woman driving aimlessly across the countryside, and a faithful farm hand giving a reassuring hug.

I challenge you, as a mother or a daughter, to face your own aloneness, watch and listen for the messengers the Lord of hope may be sending to you; and to help you do that, read the book Gadly Plain: A Novel.

098189299X

~Catherine Lawton

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Role-Reversal and Emotional Baggage

21 Tuesday May 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in confessing our need, emotional needs, feeling inadequate, forgiving mom, frustration to freedom, God's healing love, letting go of anger, mother wounds, the healing journey

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authentic relationship, Courage to be honest, Emotional and spiritual healing, Forgiveness, life stages, mother and daughter, relationships, Role reversal, unresolved hurt

Loritta Slayton

Loritta, author of the story “White Knuckles”

Loritta Slayton tells another story of mother-daughter role reversal.

“Little by little,” Loritta says, “more of those decisions that limited Mom’s independence were required…. Quite independent her entire life, this change was hard for her. I found it challenging to lead in the face of her resistance and frustration. I hated the friction it caused.”

Loritta’s upbringing wasn’t characterized by warm or demonstrative affection and trust. White-knuckled anger took hold of Loritta as the responsibility for her aging mother (and then her mother-in-law as well!) fell to her. Loritta says, “Mom had ways of bringing out my lack of patience…. I had emotional baggage to deal with and I didn’t know how.”

Loritta’s story, “White Knuckles,” is the last story in the book, Journeys to Mother Love, for a reason. She has a strong testimony of relational healing that hinged on forgiveness toward her mother and obedience to the Lord. The conclusion to her story makes a fitting conclusion to the entire book:

“And so I hope that you, the reader, will be encouraged to give God permission to loosen your fingers from any ‘white-knuckled’ grip. May you be encouraged to say, ‘yes.’ May you experience the joy of finding freedom in any relationship where you’ve let your emotions rule over your heart and life. … Don’t wait. Give God permission now and start your journey to freedom and love.”

Thank you, Loritta, for your example to us of honesty and courage and faith.

~Catherine Lawton

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Journeying Together: A Group Interview

15 Monday Apr 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in childhood memories, confessing our need, encouraging each other, God's healing love, the healing journey

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

authentic relationship, Courage to be honest, Emotional and spiritual healing, Finding our identity, friendship, life's upward path, milestones, Mothering, personal discoveries

Meadow-flowers-sillouette copy
All nine of us participated in this group interview, answering questions posed by Christina Slike, marketing director at Cladach Publishing. We’ve enjoyed getting to know each other better through this process, and so, we hope, will our readers.

INTERVIEW

 

1. Did you laugh or cry, or both, while you were writing your story?a pink butterfly

Ellen Cardwell: Surprisingly, I didn’t do either. Rather, writing the story released something inside that needed to come out. I feel lighter now whenever Mom comes to mind.

Treva Brown: I completely did both. I also felt anger, but was able to fully release it quickly.

Ardis Nelson: I went away to a secluded camp so I could focus on writing and prayer. I cried at times. Now my tears are tears of joy.

Kerry Luksic: In writing this story, I had plenty of tears. My mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s eight years ago. It was hard to accept that there’s no cure and that it’s progressive–Mom would only get worse through each heartbreaking stage. But in sharing this story, the tears I shed were healing for me.

Loritta Slayton: I don’t think I did either, but I felt the emotions again–the upset, the struggle and the joy of what God accomplished in me that I couldn’t do for myself.

Kyleen Stevenson-Braxton: I always cry when I write about God’s grace in giving me two beautiful adopted children. It reminds me afresh of his mercy and love.

a pink butterfly2. What do you especially relate to in one or more of the other women’s stories? 

A.R. (Alice) Cecil: I can relate to all the other authors in JOURNEYS TO MOTHER LOVE. We all found the only way to healing is through Jesus Christ, and we all want to help others by sharing our experience.

Catherine Lawton: Treva Brown tells of how her mother died even younger than mine did (and by much more violent circumstances). I relate to her regret over some of the words she had said to her mother, and wishing she had said certain other words before it was too late.

Ellen: The last part of Loritta Slayton’s story, “White Knuckles,” took me back to when my mother needed my help and our roles were reversed. God encouraged and enabled her to let go of hurt feelings and journey down the path to love.

Treva: In “Walking My Mother Home” Ardis Nelson wrote, “I was embracing the parts of my mother that were in me.” I am currently doing that now, so it really touched my heart.

Ardis: I think I was the most moved by Loritta’s story. I felt her pain with each decision she made along her journey with her mother. The ending to her story was a fitting ending to the book—very encouraging.

Loritta: The emotional process of their hurts being released to God and their journeys of walking it out with Him speak to me. I was moved by Treva’s descriptions of this process.

a pink butterfly  3. In what point in your relationship with your mother or child did you realize you needed relational healing?

Alice: My mother was always closer to me than any of her other children; I sensed her unhappiness and wanted to try to be there for her. Then in my early twenties I left home for the city to work. Transported into the world, I began to see not all the ways in my childhood home matched the ordinary way of going about life.

Catherine: The need in my heart became evident when I was going through grief over my mother’s death. As you can read in the book, the Lord has ways of healing our relationships even when separated by distance, disease or death.

Ellen: When I was a new Christian and learned how important it was to forgive others. Also at that time, the relationship with our mothers was a topic of discussion with my close friends, all of whom felt they had emotional gaps that their parents, especially their mothers, hadn’t filled.

Treva: Years after she died. It was a hard journey because I was unable to talk to my mom and hear her respond. But I wouldn’t change a thing, for that is where I truly encountered God.

Loritta: I knew most of my life that it wasn’t what it should be. But when I read A Daughter’s Journey Home, by Dr. Linda Mintle, some of the pieces of the puzzle came into focus. I began to pray about my relationship with my mother and ask God to work in us. And my journaling with God and the listening practice opened the door significantly.

4. What makes the mother/child relationship so significant? a pink butterfly

Ardis: I think the mother/child relationship is a mirror of the love our heavenly father has for us.

Kerry: I never realized until I had my own children, but at the end of the day, a mother’s love for a child is the strongest bond that exists.

Kyleen: I think that, since I wanted children and was unable to have them, it has made me appreciate what so many women take for granted. I envy the blessings of being pregnant, of giving birth, of seeing your features in your child’s face, of knowing they came from your body. But God has taught me that he is the maker of families, and I am blessed knowing that Jesus, too, was adopted (by Joseph). So my children are to me the very face of God. To me they represent all that he is – his goodness, kindness, and love.

5. What events, sensory experiences, etc., trigger your memories of a pink butterflyyour mother?

Catherine: My mother had a quip, saying, or song for every situation or occasion, it seemed. Those sayings and songs pop into my head often and remind me of her. I still “hear” her voice.

Ellen: Going to the farmer’s market, smelling apple pies baking … sewing, bringing flowers into the house … Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays.

Treva: A certain Dolly Parton song, camping and eating spaghetti. My mom loved spaghetti.

Ardis: This may sound strange, but I think I am most reminded of my mother in my writing and speaking opportunities. I feel that she would be proud of me for who I am finally becoming, and that gives me a great sense of her presence with me. In a way, this makes up for not having her there when I was young.

Loritta: She enjoyed flowers and colors in shades of purples, aquas, violets. Just this week I walked past orchids in the grocery store that are tinted in those tones and thought of her.

6. Do you ever see your mom in yourself?  a pink butterfly

Catherine: Every time I make the choice and the effort to be positive, to engage with other people when I feel like pulling away … I think of my mother who modeled those attitudes to me.

Ellen: Yes. She had an authoritative way of speaking. She would make pronouncements (not always based on facts), pontificate, and discourage discussion. I still find myself sounding like her, even though I’ve tried for years to overcome it. When I notice myself doing the same thing, it lets me know how ingrained her attitudes were/are in me. I feel frustrated that it’s still there inside my personality. Then I’m motivated to revisit my efforts to change and make it more of a priority to do so.

Treva: At times I do. I used to despise it. But God was able to bring me to a place of embracing those characteristics and bring me more understanding of my mom.

Verna Hill Simms: I remind myself of Mother every time I sit in the living room and watch for the mail carrier. Mail means a lot to me as it did to her.

Ardis: This question hits to the core area of my personal healing when my mother died. I was able to integrate and embrace the parts of my mother that I had been rejecting all my life. Thanks to the Lord’s work in me, I am no longer embarrassed by our similarities.

Kerry: Yes. I especially see my mom in myself when I’m faced with a tough challenge. My mom never gave up on anything and she leaned on her faith during the hardest times. When I’m going through a tough time, I think of mom and follow her example. Whenever I feel like life is a bit too hard, I remember my mom’s example and immediately feel stronger.

7. In what way is mother love a journey?   a pink butterfly

Alice: I wonder how God would have brought me along without children! I know there are people who do not have children and who have a deep relationship with God, but God knew I needed children!

Ellen: For me, mother love grew from an unrealistic ideal to a reality based on experience. Each stage of our children’s growth, from elementary school to junior high to high school has challenges of its own. As I journeyed along with my children, my love was tested, strengthened and developed through the ups and downs they experienced. My love grew from the tenderest feelings for our infants to caring for their needs while juggling other responsibilities, to tough love as they tested boundaries. Mother love survived the smooth and rocky places along the path because, I believe, it originates in God’s love for us all.

Ardis: I am seeing this theme poignantly in my life now. Just today I had a conversation with my 15 year old son about this. We had connecting time while attending a doctor’s appointment. I didn’t have any of that with my parents. I am embracing the journey of learning how to mother anew, be a “sister” to Rosa, an “aunt” to Pedro, and a daughter to my stepmother. This journey is connecting me with my heart and allowing me to share it with others.

Kerry: Mother love is a journey because life is a journey. There are ups and there are downs; there are moments of joy and moments of sheer pain; but through all of it, love is the foundation. My mom has progressed to the advanced-stage of Alzheimer’s and this is the final destination in our journey. Alzheimer’s is a heartbreaking disease, but I have peace knowing that at the end of my mom’s journey here on earth, she will be rewarded for her lifetime of love. faith, and determination–the gift of Heaven.

Loritta: You can’t understand everything from one vantage point. You have to climb that mountain and look back sometimes, and other times you just have to put your hand in God’s and let Him talk to you about what you need to know that only He can reveal in a way that you can receive.

Kyleen: Learning to love unconditionally, to bring out the best in your children, to be their cheerleader and to guide them with kindness is not always easy, especially when your own relationship with your mother was strained. Still, it is a noble and worthy endeavor. This is the journey God asks us to take as mothers.

All the authors and their stories

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What to do with Sadness ~ Maundy Thursday and Good Friday

28 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in confessing our need, emotional needs, God's healing love, the healing journey

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Christian spirituality, Courage to be honest, Emotional and spiritual healing, Good Friday, Holy Week, Maundy Thursday, Passion Week

William Blake's Holy Thursday (1794)

William Blake’s Holy Thursday (1794)

“Holy Week” (the week before Easter when we remember the last, painful days of Jesus’ life) was not a term I grew up hearing a lot. In our family and church we celebrated the joy of Palm Sunday and the victory of Easter Sunday. But we didn’t have Maundy Thursday or Good Friday services. We often sang, “I serve a risen savior, He’s in the world today” and I’m thankful for that heritage. Yes, the cross was sung about and preached about as well. My preacher dad would call people to repentance and faith based on Jesus’ finished work on the cross. And all during the year we sang rousing hymns and gospel songs about the power of the cross and the blood. But Easter week was altogether a joyous experience of colored eggs, new dresses, choir songs, and the biggest church attendance of the year!

Mother directed the choir’s Easter Cantata that always had a song or two about the sadness and suffering leading up to Easter. But we didn’t dwell there long. At the same time, in our personal lives I think we didn’t really know what to do with the emotion of sadness. In those inexplicable moments when a weight of sadness came over you and threatened to smother you, what did you do? You smothered it back! Maybe you had “a good cry” in private then put on a brave face and smiled for the family, the world, and the church. That’s what I saw my mother do.

I’m thankful for the legacy she gave me of loving God, loving people, choosing to be an over-comer. And truly, “the joy of the Lord is our strength.” And that joy is a fountain that wells up from deep inside as a result of the presence and work of Christ in us through his Holy Spirit. But I have learned by experience—and from the saints of old—that that joy is greater and purer and fresher when we allow periodic remembrance and identification with the sadness and suffering of Passion Week. The very word “passion” means “suffering.” Over a decade ago Mel Gibson’s movie, The Passion of the Christ, brought this truth to the fore. In the past twenty years liturgy and observance of the church calendar have come back into many churches, and I find this enriches my Christian faith and experience. For instance, observing Maundy Thursday and Good Friday helps me know what to do with times of sadness.

Holy Week reminds me that Jesus was “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3). In the Garden of Gethsemane he said, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Matthew 26:38). He experienced sadness and sorrow to the depths, for me.

Whatever the source of my sadness …

  • sorrow for my sins and the suffering they caused my Lord.
  • waves of grief and sadness over personal losses, such as losing my mother at a young age.
  • sadness in the face of the cruelties, tragedies, and injustices I see people oppressed by.

… during Holy Week I am reminded of what to do with this “weight of sorrow,” these tears: bring them to Jesus …

  • See him kneeling in the garden, overwhelmed with sorrow, in anguished prayer and sweating drops of blood.
  • See him enduring the cruelest injustice, ridicule, and inflicted pain.
  • See him hanging on the cross agonizing, bleeding, and dying, because of my sins.

I can allow my occasional sadness to help me identify with Jesus, the man of sorrows. Then, when the resurrected Lord wipes those tears from my eyes, what JOY!

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It’s Not too Late to Forgive

21 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by ardisanelson in confessing our need, leaving a legacy, letting go of anger, reconciliation, the healing journey

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Courage to be honest, Emotional and spiritual healing, Forgiveness, Healing love

Ardis and her dad

Ardis with her dad soon before his death

Like a scab ripped from the skin, my wound was exposed again. Why would I deliberately enter into that wound again? How could I think that it was really healed? A recent post, “I Forgive You,” by Catherine Lawton was the catalyst that prompted me to take another look. That, and the fact that I spent Holy Week last year caring for my 93-year-old father, sent my mind back to the months preceding his death.

Catherine’s post reminded me of how the words and actions of forgiveness were not something that was modeled to me when I was growing up. Tears weren’t allowed either. We were taught to ‘buck it up’ and move on. Reading that post took me back to the letter I had written my father a year before he died. My grief at that time was still fresh from my mother’s passing, and my healing was making me bold in things of the heart. After reading Catherine’s post I pulled out that year-old letter.

Re-reading the letter to my father brought the pain of the wound to the surface. Tears overcame me as I read the words I had penned to him about my inner healing. I knew he had worried about me in the past, concerned that I would develop mental illness like my mother. He had told me that he was ‘watching me’ for signs. So I wrote the letter to reassure him that I was okay.

I’ll share a part of the letter to hopefully inspire others to forgive their parents. I sent this letter with no expectations from him in return. I just wrote what I felt the Lord laid on my heart to tell him:

“I won’t know all God’s purposes until I am in Heaven, too. But here on this earth and in this time, I have received incredible healing and much peace…. That is what I want for you, Dad. I thought it was important for you to know that Mom forgave you [before she died]. I want you to know that I forgive you also. I know you did the best you could under the circumstances. Even if you do have regrets about any of these family things, I know that, as a Smith,* it would be incredibly difficult for you to admit it. We Smiths always think we are so right. I guess if I had one regret in my upbringing it would be that I didn’t learn how to forgive others and to say “I’m sorry.” Those words would’ve helped me let go of so much of my anger and resentments years ago…

“…It’s not too late for you, Dad. You can do this. You can release all your ‘rightness’ and no-regrets thinking to the Lord. You can leave this family with a legacy of forgiveness. I hope and pray the Lord will bless you and keep you in His love for all your remaining days.

“I love you.

“Ardis”

My father never mentioned this letter to me or anything that was in it, but my stepmother told me he read and re-read it many times. I believe it sank into his heart, bridged the distance between us, and eventually gave him the ability to go in peace. Risking his rejection and ridicule by expressing my heart was worth it.

How about you? Is there someone to whom you need to say “I forgive you” while there is still time?

~ Ardis A. Nelson

*Surname changed to protect family privacy.

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Exaggerated Memories

13 Wednesday Mar 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in emotional needs, forgiving mom, Learning to appreciate Mom, losing mom too soon, the healing journey

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

authentic relationship, Courage to be honest, Grief Loss and Bereavement

Lilies

In The Secret Life of Bees, the girl Lily deals with feelings of guilt, anger, and forsakenness after her mother’s death. At the end of the story she says:

“I keep my mother’s things on a special shelf in my room…. The feeling that they are holy objects is already starting to wear off…. In the photograph by my bed my mother is perpetually smiling on me. I guess I have forgiven us both, although sometimes in the night my dreams will take me back to the sadness, and I have to wake up and forgive us again.” (from The Secret Life of Bees, p. 301)

After a loved one dies we tend to idealize that person. In our minds we exaggerate their positive qualities and minimize—maybe for a while we even forget—their negative qualities. I knew a mother whose young son died in a Boy Scout hiking accident. Even after ten years she hadn’t moved anything in his bedroom. And no one else was allowed in there. That space, his things, and those memories were sacrosanct.

At the beginning of The Secret Life of Bees Lily treats the few things she has left that belonged to her mother as holy objects, buried secretly in a treasure box. By the end of the book Lily keeps these objects on a shelf like other possessions, and she is even beginning to let her friends touch them.

In the book, Motherless Daughters, author Hope Edelman says, “Like anger, idealization is a normal and useful early response to loss. Focusing on a mother’s good traits reaffirms the importance of her presence, and processing the happy side of a relationship is a gentle way to activate mourning. But every human relationship is affected by ambivalence, every mother an amalgam of the good and the bad” (p. 19). Ms. Edelman explains that if we are to mourn our mothers fully, we need to look back and “acknowledge the flip sides of perfection and love.” Otherwise we will be remembering our mothers as only half of what they were, and even ending up mourning a caricature, not the person who was your mother.

My mother died young, before I had matured in my understanding of her and ability to relate to her. I was stuck in my needy grief as long as I memorialized her in my mind as perfect, almost hallowed. Coming to remember, love, and appreciate my mother as a multi-faceted, even flawed woman (albeit one who loved a perfectly loving and holy God) has helped me move through the grief to a place where I can live and love much more freely.

~ Catherine Lawton

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“I Forgive You”

07 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in childhood memories, confessing our need, forgiving mom, God's healing love, letting go of anger, the healing journey

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

authentic relationship, Courage to be honest, Forgiveness, Jesus, Lent, relationships, unresolved hurt

"Forgiveness 3" by Carlos Latuff.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In every close relationship we can get our feelings hurt. At those times—when we hurt each other in big and small ways—two little words make a huge difference: “I’m sorry.” Have you said “I’m sorry” recently to your best friend? to your spouse? to your child? to your parent?

Then a sweet, healing balm is applied to the wound when three simple but powerful words are spoken back: “I forgive you.”

Nine Women Tell their Stories of Forgiveness & Healing … That’s the subtitle of our book, and for good reason. Healing and forgiveness go together. In fact, I can confidently say that relational healing won’t happen without forgiveness.

Forgiveness is the turning point in all the stories in Journeys to Mother Love.

During this season of Lent, I am going to meditate on the forgiveness provided for me by Jesus on the cross. He forgave freely, unconditionally, forever. Jesus was mocked, misunderstood, abused, rejected. Yet he said, “Father, forgive them.”

He was despised and rejected … a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering…. Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows … and by his wounds we are healed (Isaiah 53: 3-6)

 
Stained glass at St John the Baptist's Anglica...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Can we not bring our offenses, hurts, and rejections to Jesus?

Because Jesus forgives, we must. Because he did, we can.

Forgive. Then live in a heart attitude of forgiveness. Slights, rejections, offenses will come—sometimes unexpectedly, catching us off-guard. I’m asking the Lord to help me recognize those feelings when they come, then help me give the offense and the feelings to Jesus immediately. He knows my thoughts and feelings already. I can simply let it go. In faith. With love. Because there are much bigger things at stake than my hurt feelings. Because it’s so much more important how the Lord sees me than how others see me. Because he gave his life and shed his precious blood so that forgiveness could happen. Because fellowship, relationship, wholeness are so important to the Lord and so wonderful to experience.

I realize some wounds are so deep we hardly know how to face them, how to deal with them, or even exactly what or who we need to forgive. Perhaps the other person is not saying “I’m sorry.” But our unforgiving spirit is causing us pain and keeping us from a life of joyful wholeness.

As a child I heard my preacher father give the sermon illustration of a festering boil, full of pus and painful to touch. Such a sore place causes misery and anguish until you are willing to have it lanced open and drained of the poisonous, pressuring pus. Or what about a person who had a broken arm that wasn’t set properly and grew together wrong, awkward and painful? It must be re-broken and set properly so it can knit together in harmony and heal, so the arm will move freely without pain.

I don’t want to let poisonous reactions, angry pressure, out-of-kilter attitudes, or pus-like resentment fester in my soul and cause anguish in my relationships.

Lord, give me the grace to say and mean, “I forgive you.”

~Catherine Lawton

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Facing Demons from the Past

04 Monday Feb 2013

Posted by Catherine Lawton in emotional needs, God's healing love, the healing journey

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Courage to be honest, Emotional and spiritual healing

Upper tangent arc crossed by contrail shadow

These women have faced demons from the past and challenges of the present by opening themselves to God’s grace…

This comment came from Shirley Brosius, author and speaker with Friends of the Heart ministry, after she read Journeys to Mother Love.

You can read the rest of Shirley’s review on her blog: http://www.shirleybrosius.blogspot.com/2013/02/book-review-journeys-to-mother-love.html

I appreciate Shirley’s words. Yes, “demons from our past” can haunt us, hinder us, hobble us. And like a shadow in the dark the memories and trauma of those demons of the past can appear larger than life and still have more power over us than we can understand.

I remember thinking when I was in my thirties, “How could I still be thinking every day about this thing that happened to me when I was four years old? Why does it have such power over me even now; why do I still feel the fear, the shame?”

The power those demons from the past had over me—and others who share their stories in Journeys to Mother Love—is gone now. And Shirley is right about that too. Freedom came when we opened ourselves to God’s healing grace.

~ Catherine Lawton

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Toxic Mother Love?

14 Wednesday Nov 2012

Posted by Catherine Lawton in challenges of motherhood, confessing our need, encouraging each other, the healing journey

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Courage to be honest, Forgiving yourself, Healing love, letting go, Mothering, no false guilt or shame, Parenting

"Mothers Can't Be Everywhere, But God Is"

Mother love is powerful; but is it always healthy? Love does indeed cover a multitude of sins; but are they covered by my flawed, though well-intentioned love, or only by God’s agape kind of love?

Jewel, the mother in Bret Lott’s novel of the same name, maintains throughout the story that if only she loved her little Down’s Syndrome daughter enough she would be better. Sadly, her love was not enough. Her insistence on her misguided mission caused her to unwittingly neglect the rest of her family.

What is commonly celebrated as mother love is sometimes, albeit unconsciously, quite toxic. This toxic love doesn’t cover a multitude of sins, but it only covers over a crippling dysfunction that may result in some kind of pathology that later emerges in the children’s lives, and that produces guilt and failure in the mother. Mothers often grapple with guilt that pins them down instead of embracing God’s grace—a light and easy companion that lifts us to live out of His love alone.

Alice Scott-Ferguson wrote these words in her book, Mothers Can’t Be Everywhere, But God Is. Alice is an author and speaker who wrote an endorsement for Journeys to Mother Love. Her heart for mothers motivates much of her ministry. She encourages mothers of all ages to look to Christ as their source of strength and to give up the burdens of either perfectionism or guilt.

Not all of us, or our mothers, have mothered with toxic love. But we might find ourselves in that place of dysfunction, at least at times. Alice adds, “The God who runs the universe can take care of your children and loves them beyond the fiercest mother love. May you be filled with hope and joy as you trust God who wants you to live every aspect of your life—and mothering is no exception—from the life of Christ within as you walk in His rest.”

As a mother, have you carried a burden of either perfectionism in your mothering or guilt over the way you did raise your children? We can lay down those burdens and begin to walk in new freedom and joy.

~ Catherine Lawton

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