Stop the Shame

This is not going to be the typical People Pleaser shaming post.

I was 40 years old before I realized.

It started when I was barely 10 years old. We were at family counseling when the well-intentioned therapist told me “You are the peacemaker” I did not know what it meant but the way she made it sound it was not a good thing. It was my destiny to bring peace to my family and I was not doing a very good job.

As years passed, I began to understand that peacemaker also equated people-pleaser, of which I was the very best. I have confessed many times to my people pleasing ways, vowing never to return only to find myself under the guilt of pleasing people once again. Oh, but did it feel good.

The internet is inundated with negative people pleasing posts, just some of my favorite;

“Why Being a People-Pleaser is Selfish”

“Psychology of a People-Pleaser: Why they Need to Please Everyone”

“Do you Have People-Pleaser Syndrome?”

It is a syndrome? EVERY. SINGLE. ARTICLE. Full of shame and guilt. Can we acknowledge sometimes the internet is depressing?

The wound deepened when I was taking a Nurse Leadership class and we were required to take a Strength Finder’s Quiz. The basic version of the test (which I recommend everyone invest the $19.99 to take or just buy the book) gives you your top 5 strengths. The word Woo was one of the first words I saw when my results popped up on the screen. Woo? What is that? As I read the quick definition, I was disheartened. One of my biggest strengths is people pleasing. Wow, thanks Strength Finder.

Then I read more.

“The genius of your WOO talent involves the impact you can have on other people and the ease with which you can win them over. You have an incredible ability to meet new people and almost magically know what to say in order to draw others out. Other people love the attention you give them and the way that you can affirm a person so quickly. Of course you love the process and the challenge of meeting new people. And people love it when you connect with them. The genius of this talent is that you can not only quickly connect with people but you can be a catalyst in helping people connect with one another. Make no mistake about it, when you enter a crowd the crowd it will be different because you were there. In fact, you have the capacity to transform a crowd of disconnected people into a group and this is no small accomplishment.” @strengthstransform

For the first time in my entire life, I realized people pleasing maybe wasn’t the sin I made it into. For the first time, I realized wanting to make people happy was not the worst trait about me. For the first time, I realized what I thought was my greatest weakness could also be my greatest strength.

I have never really had an “Eat, Pray, Love” aha moment but I guess if I had to pick one, this was it. My quest for self-discovery was revealed in this peculiar little word, Woo.

Like every great strength it can also become a great weakness. Quite frequently I have to ask myself, “Why am I doing this?? And at “What expense?” Am I committing myself to this task because it fulfills my passion and puts wind in my sail? or am I trying to look important or get ___________(insert name) to like me? AND it might put wind in my sail (making others happy, genuinely makes me happy) but at what expense? It might make me happy to say yes to that commitment but will it be at the expense of the people I love most? Will my family and best friends suffer as a result? Because that DEFINITELY will not make me happy in the end (I just can forget in the moment).  I can often over commit myself simply because they are all things I LOVE TO DO and generally they are things that make others happy (aka pleased).

Ready for this? Wanting people to be happy is not a bad thing. Actually though. Here is a confession. I have candy on my desk at work because chocolate makes people happy. (well most people, my people) I like when people are happy. I like when someone is having a stressful day, they stop over and get some chocolate and feel better. I (gasp) like that feeling.

I spent my first 40 years fighting against the way God made me, the gifts He has given me. I will spend my next 40 (or however many the good Lord provides) embracing and finding balance in my woo. If you are like me, I hope you can too.

Strengthfinders

A Year in Review

It has been one year since we sold our first Not for Sale shirts. I could hardly believe it when the reminder popped up on my social media timeline. For me this mark in time has significant meaning. One year ago, God turned my world completely upside down.

In June 2018 I was preparing for my third trip to Honduras. I had a better idea of what to expect, I was still nervous, just not the same jitters and anxiousness that the unknown brings. I was excited to re-unite with old friends who were now like family. Which is weird to say because I had only spent 20 physical days with them at most. Funny to reflect on now, the one consistent with a trip to Honduras is that you really never know what to expect.

God has always met me in Honduras. He has taught me lessons so deep and so powerful, I am thankful to have learned them and grateful He trusted me with them. I have experienced grace, I have been convicted by my pride and selfishness, I understand on a new level the importance of gratefulness and I have been reminded of God’s great love for me and those around the world.

That being said, God had never met me in Honduras the way he did June of 2018. Maybe He has never met me that way anywhere. As per our norm we worked and played at our favorite little school in San Pedro Sula, we made food bags and for me I mostly played soccer with the 1^st and 2^nd grade boys. That is the extent of both my soccer and Spanish skills. This particular year we had a side trip to a smaller town a couple of hours away from San Pedro Sula. We were partnering with a Lego League team from a local middle school to bring an actual working water filtration system to provide clean water for a small school and the surrounding community.

I was excited to embrace this new adventure. Turns out the boys there enjoyed playing soccer too. The landscape was different but the people were just as kind and hospitable. The first day, some had heard I was a nurse and asked me to take a look at a couple children struggling with malnutrition, to give advice on nutrition that might lead to growth. The following day a young lady (let’s call her Maria) sat down next to me and my youngest daughter Grace. Turns out they were the same age. She was carrying a baby, it was not uncommon for older siblings to care for younger siblings. With my limited Spanish I offered her a smile and hug, she hugged back and gave a short sad smile. One look into her eyes and I knew she had seen far too much lifetime in her short 14 years. Following our embrace her story was relayed to me. This was not her baby brother, this was her baby son.

Maria’s family had been targeted by human traffickers.  Two years prior, Maria’s parents believed they were sending their then 12-year-old to work at a business in the city. She would earn money for her family. She would have medical care, be fed and sheltered. Sadly, Maria never reached this “business” in the city. Instead she was kidnapped across the border and was prostituted in Guatemala. Maria eventually escaped and thanks to the help of her teacher she returned home with her parents.

She was and is just a baby herself. I just sat in shock holding her sweet baby, silently wondering how this could happen. Later I learned two more pieces of information; 1) The malnourished children brought to me the first day were Maria’s siblings 2) There were several other girls targeted by this same ring, some who have not yet returned.

The rest of the trip happened. It was good. Work was done. God showed up. Lives were touched. My body participated but my mind was still back in that little school room on the hill.

This one thought replayed over in my mind.

When I was a little girl I was abused by my father. If anyone knew. If any of my family or my friends knew, they would have stopped it. They would have protected me. If only they knew.

And now. I knew. I knew what was happening. I knew that parents were being faced with challenges beyond their control. I knew that evil people were taking advantage of that vulnerability. I knew that children were being forced to quit school to work to attempt to help put food on the table. And that vulnerability put these people at risk to be sold into things and places that I still can’t wrap my head around today. I physically witnessed all of these things and then I flew back to my safe and comfortable home.

I came home and I was different. In every. Single. Way. I was so conflicted by so many thoughts. I was heartbroken. I was confused, how could God allow such things? Where does such evil come from? How could I come home and just do life? How could I reconcile the things I had seen? I was angry. I was sad. I was overwhelmed. What could I do? Nothing.

A month of this. A month of asking, searching, trying to make sense of it all. I decided I was not sure what God was doing but I was sure I was going to trust Him. I decided He allowed me to be there for a reason. >>Side Note: People have asked me if God has called me to Honduras. Honestly? I do not know. I guess I just believe God calls you to be wherever you are. God calls you to the waiter at your favorite restaurant. God calls you to the neighbor next door. God calls you to your grieving co-worker. He calls you to the place you are in. And my only desire is to be where God has me today. And God allowed me to be in Yoro in June to see what I saw. That is something I am sure of.

One evening, a month after returning home I was driving home and I was telling God just this. I told Him I did not understand but I would trust Him. I did not know what to do but I wanted Him to do something and I prayed God would let me be part of it. That night as I sat in my dark car alone God whispered to my heart and said “You have allowed me to use your story to bring comfort and healing to others who have experience similar things. Will you allow me to use your story to keep this abuse from happening in the first place?” What an easy question to answer. ABSOLUTELY, YES!

In my studying I came across a group of verses in Romans. I was reminded that it was through the redemption of Christ that we are justified and given grace. Then I read that the word redemption/redeemed was commonly used in biblical times in the slave trade. A person was redeemed from slavery when another person could pay their ransom/debt. I realized that no-one; no child, no boy, no girl, no man, no woman could be for sale because Jesus already paid the price. And thus, NOT FOR SALE was born.

One Thursday night at a church softball game, after returning home from Honduras, a sweet friend asked me how the trip was. I didn’t watch another play of the game. I told her every detail I could remember. Then I told her that I was thinking about selling T-shirts to fund education in Yoro because (in my mind anyway) education seems like a great way to escape poverty. I thought the T-shirt should say “Not for Sale”. She took a long pause and then told me “Well I have a T-shirt press in my basement” and by the time I pulled in my driveway that night she had created and texted me the T-shirt design.

One of the MOST important elements of Not for Sale is the three women in the Yoro community who are passionate about the children and families that reside there. They are passionate in their faith and seek to love God and love others. They are a constant encouragement to me and I pray I am able to bless them half as much as the bless me.

Thanks to the very generous support of too many people to count, the little school has electricity and a bathroom. A group of women have started an education program to learn a trade. They are learning to sew and commercially cook. We have dreams of adding on a classroom (ensuring an education beyond 6^th grade), we dream of financing micro-loans for women to start their own businesses, we have dreams of empowering families and personally I dream there will not be ONE MORE SINGLE CHILD sold or tricked into human trafficking.

Truth-I often feel overwhelmed, I feel intimidated, I second guess myself, I get embarrassed, I think about what others think, I question if God can use me despite my brokenness.

This is what I have learned: God is actually using my BROKENESS. In fact, it is where He does His best work. When He asked if He could use my story I didn’t really understand what He meant but I see now that the journey He has walked beside me on has produced dependence on Him, empathy for others, deep love for children (especially the most vulnerable ones) and a lot of brokenness. And God is using that very same brokenness (He uses our weakness to show His strength) which has produced the person I am (the good, bad and ugly) and THAT is the person He wants to use. I still don’t completely understand but I am trusting Him. Funny that the things I have hated most about myself (both portions of my journey and characteristics of myself) seem to be the things He consistently wants to use. It is a continual reminder this journey is not about me. It is not about my short-comings. It is about Him and His great, unconditional love. Yes it is.

As for me…..

I am just a nurse who literally has THE MOST AMAZING PEOPLE and I sell T-shirts to whoever will let me with the hope I might be just one small sliver to ending human trafficking once and for all.

BECAUSE People are NOT FOR SALE.

Keeping Kids Safe(r)

Dear Friends,

I am neither a pediatrician nor a psychologist. I am just a girl who has been molested. I am a person who deeply desires to see all children grow up in a safe and healthy environment. Here are some thoughts from someone who has been there.

Steps to Keeping Kids Safe

Teach your kids correct anatomical terms

Use the words “vagina” and “penis”.  It teaches them not to be embarrassed. It gives children the ability to communicate clearly about their body and does not give room for miscommunication or misunderstanding.

Explain that those body parts are private

Don’t give exceptions. They are private areas and no one should ask to look at or touch them period. If or when the time comes that a doctor needs to look at or touch those areas they will explain (if they are any kind of professional at all) what they are doing and why it is okay for them to be doing so.

Empower your child to have control over their own body

Yes they have private areas but that doesn’t mean the rest of their body is up for grabs. Allow your child to decide if they want to hug or show affection to another person. Telling a child that no one should touch them in an uncomfortable way and then forcing that same child to hug someone sends a mixed message.   Instead of saying “Give grandma a hug” try asking “Grandma is leaving would you like to give her a hug?” It conveys the message that their body belongs to them and they can choose what they are comfortable with. If they say no, encourage a secret handshake or fist bump.  If you are with another child ASK if it is okay for you to hug them or embrace them. Give them space to say no without shame.

Be vigilant!

There have been several articles floating around that suggest saying no to sleepovers. I have no disagreement with this philosophy; however do NOT assume that having no sleepovers equals safety. Many of the people I talk to say that their abuse happened during the day, often in a house full of people. A good friend of mine told me that her uncle fondled her at holiday times. He would tell her to sit on his lap and with everyone sitting there he would touch her and no one suspected a thing. Abuse can happen anytime, anywhere by anyone. Listen to your gut and do not assume any one step (including the ones listed here) will guarantee safety.

Do not assume “I would know.”

This might be one of the biggest mistakes. You may not know. Often the places or people you feel the safest with may actually be the most dangerous. Places where people care for children; scouts, church, schools become risky because of our false sense of security. This does not mean we live in fear or never participate in things we just need to be vigilant, ask questions and be present. Perpetrators are smart and look for vulnerability. When news of my dad came out no one could believe it, he was loved by everyone. One family friend told me he was the “very last person” she would ever expect.

Keep the lines of communication WIDE open

These conversations can be uncomfortable (geez these words are uncomfortable for me to write) but do not let that stop you from having them. When there are stories in the news I talk to my kids about them in an age appropriate manner. Recently there was a man in the news who assaulted his teenage daughter’s friend. I used that as an opportunity to talk to my older daughters about why I am so fussy about the places they hang out even though they are 17 and 20.

Do not forget the boys

Recent research shows that 1 in 6 boys are sexually abused before age 18. As hard as it is for girls to come forward the stigma for boys is much, much worse. We need to remember that boys can become victims too.

Lastly if you become aware of abuse that happens to your child. Believe them! Tell them at least 100 times it is not their fault and DO something.  They will remember forever what steps you took and how you took them.

You might feel that these tips steal away your child’s innocence. I supposed there might be some truth to that. It saddens me that this is the world in which we live. I wish it wasn’t. Let me promise you though, I know this one thing firsthand, if your child becomes the victim of sexual abuse the innocence that will be lost is immeasurable.

Love,

Lisa & Sally (my mom)

It's Been a While.....

I am going to painfully honest. Mostly because it takes way too much energy to fake anything else.

I used to think this thing of faith was something of beauty, a destination you reach and a gorgeous place in which you live. If it were a painting it would be this sort of masterpiece. One that rests on the wall, that people buy tickets just to have a glimpse. The radiance so heavenly one would stand in awe. This is what I used to think.

Instead I have to come to this place and faith is not a place, not a destination, not a singular thing. Not static, not still, not simple and most definitely not always beautiful. It could be just me. My faith seems to be constantly evolving, messy, often glorious, and just as often challenging, occasionally still, sometimes overwhelming, a deep and long journey with a beginning and no real end.

I want to wrap faith up in a package of simply believing, trusting and living. It is simpler that way. Each time I think I have things figured out, I feel comfortable with my own explanation, life happens and I learn that I still have so much I do not understand.

May 27^th I received a phone call that one of my daughters was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital and my other daughter was on her way via helicopter. There had been an accident. The rest was a blur. My husband drove. I begged God for His mercy. My daughter was in a helicopter I knew what this meant, I could lose her. In my lifetime of memories I cannot recall ever being so scared. I sat in my seat inconsolable. My husband (an amazing man of great faith) told me to trust God, that He was with them. This is one of the only things I remember distinctly saying “God is with all kinds of people during really bad things.”

Fortunately, my girls were okay. They had injuries that could be fixed and the important stuff was intact.

I know how lucky we were. I recognize how many other parents do not get the same outcome. Everyone kept telling me how God was watching them and how He spared them. I was and am so grateful. But I am also confused. If God was with them and saved them, why? And why doesn’t He do that for everyone? And why, in that moment couldn’t I believe that? Was this a test of faith and if so, had I failed?

Honestly, I still do not have the answers to all of my questions. I do not know why some parents cry with relief and others cry with grief. I just don’t.

I sent my friend a text that night. I was disappointed with myself. She reminded me I was human and tragedy happens. I hadn’t failed. I had persevered. It was not pass/fail and I was not being graded.

Life has gotten more serious since May 27^th. Time is more valuable. People are indispensable. Stuff is… well stuff. Life is a moment in time and eternity is forever.

Faith is easy when I am happy. Faith is precious when it finds balance with both joy and sorrow. For me, I will pick precious over easy Every. Single. Time.

“Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand” -Ara Stanphil

You Have Been Warned

Consider this your warning. If you ask me how my trip is it will most likely include the following things. Tears, photos, videos, stories (and a LOT of them) laughs and most likely a desperate plea to sponsor one of the many beautiful children in San Pedro Sula so they may attend school. Also please understand I recognize to fit in the social norms the answer to this question should only take 1-2 minutes but honestly prepare for hours, it will definitely take hours. I am in LOVE with Honduras.

There. Consider yourself warned.

That being said I am sure there will be many Honduran blog posts as I am only beginning to process through the wide myriad of emotions and experiences that happened in those ten days. But there was this ONE experience I simply must share.

When we arrived in Honduras I was simply ill prepared for the welcome we would receive there. Our church (not me personally) has supported a little school in San Pedro Sula for years and the people there are so grateful. SO GRATEFUL. When we walked through the doors of the school on our first day in Honduras there was an incredible crowd of people who cheered, loved and welcomed us with open arms (quite literally). They sat us at a head table.

It was raised up with a tent over us. We were given the best seats (again quite literally) in the house. Families, children, moms, dads, grandmas, grandpas, aunts uncles, friends all came up to greet us there. They took photos with us. I did not even know them and they wanted my photo with their loved one. Within minutes they delivered cold drinks which included the most delicious Coca-Colas. The tents were strung with lights it was literally one of the most beautiful sights I had laid my eyes on. (I am such a sucker for twinkle lights) We were then delivered HUGE plates of food. More food than I could eat in the ten days I would be there. It was all traditional Honduran food prepared especially for their “American brothers and sisters in Christ”. We sat and shared food and friendship which included drinks from a coconut. (by the way in my opinion coconut milk is way overrated and really not milk at all) It wasn’t long and the program began. The most talented amazing artists enthralled us with their traditional dances, poetry readings and even the most impressive mime I have ever seen which also starred Tim from our group and you can definitely say we saw a side of Tim none of us ever knew existed. Friends it was so beautiful and so amazing.

 So why was my heart feeling so broken? Why did I have this huge lump in my throat that prevented me from talking or even swallowing.

I saw all that was prepared before me and all I kept thinking was how unworthy I was. Why this big to do? I did not deserve this banquet set before me. Tears stream down my face even now as I recall the moment. What had I done? I flew on an airplane, which for the most part even my trip had been paid for by other hard working people. I did not deserve any of this.

 I am such a visual person. And I think this is such a cool thing about God. He knows us each so personally that He knows how to reveal Himself to each of us. He knows our triggers and how to get through to us. (even those of us who are harder to reach than others)

For many, many years I have known that “God loves me.” I know it. I teach it. I sit with little preschoolers once a month and I point to them and use their name and say “God loves Miles. God loves Greta. God loves _______.” I know this. In my head.

As I stared down at my plate of food not sure I could stand all this for one more second and God whispered to me “I love you like this Lisa.” Yes God I know. You love me. “No Lisa. Just like this. I wait for your arrival, I cheer you on. I welcome you with open arms. I seat you at my table. You are my precious child and I give you the best. Your hard work did not earn you a place at this table, all your good things fill me with joy but that is not why you are here. Your mistakes and failures they can’t remove your VIP status either, you did not earn your ticket Lisa, instead my son paid your cost. You are here simply because I love you.”

People the tears just started to flow and pretty much continued for the rest of the trip. I am loved not because I am perfect or because I have logged hours in a pew. Nope, simply because I am His child. My mind cannot even begin to understand this but the image of the Hondurans pure unadulterated unmerited love for me will never leave me.

Friends, God loves you. Seriously He loves you. He has prepared a table for you. He awaits your arrival with open arms. He will hug and kiss you. The food he has set for you will never run out. You have done nothing to deserve it nor nothing to remove you from it. As a parent waits for their child, He waits for you. All because He loves you.