When No One Understands the Pain

My workweek was experientially rich. I could say “rough”, but I am going to choose the word “rich”. In my line of work debriefing is mandatory. In most cases a debrief means communication between two people in order to process confidential and often challenging  information. This communication practice, in my work setting, is to help me process what I’ve heard, and to help me leave the information in God’s capable hands.

This week I didn’t get the chance to debrief so I wrote instead. As I wrote down each experience a new realization came to the forefront of my mind. Sometimes, even when we are able to debrief with someone we are often still left with an unexplainable unsettledness deep inside. Why?

Even when the hearer is listening, a part of the speaker’s heart is never heard. I am not saying those whom I have talked to in the past have not heard me. I am not saying those who have talked to me have not been heard. I am realizing that as mere human beings, we are incapable of doing what only God can do. We cannot hear the heart. We hear sound bites only.

As I watch my adult children growing and learning and developing in their unique vocations I see a similar frustration across the board. We are family. We have genetic commonalities, personality similarities. Our faith heritage contributes to the way we experience this world as well. But despite our kinship, as we come together to share our deepest concerns, there can still be unseen tension. This tension or inner frustration isn’t because we don’t love each other. It exists because we cannot hear one another’s hearts like only God can.

No matter how much we love each other, there is a limit to our hearing and our understanding. I often think of this song lyric “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen, nobody knows but Jesus….”

If I could give my husband anything, if I could give my children anything, if I could give my friends anything – it would be these words:

When no one understands debrief with God – He hears your heart.

Better still, before we look for someone to understand – go to God first.

Moving Forward

The most valuable gift we can give to one another is the gift of listening. But once the period of listening has been realized we have a decision to make. It is always good for the listener to clarify what they’ve heard, but eventually both the listener and the sharer should make goals in order to move forward.

Making goals to move forward in no way means the information shared has not been taken seriously.

Repeating the same information over and over again does not help get your point across, but keeps you stuck in the past.

Making goals to move forward can be scary. Doubts can creep in, fear can put a freeze on moving forward.

Moving forward is absolutely necessary for the healing journey to begin.

*I know from experience that the deepest damage, pain, and trauma is healable.

If you are someone needing to heal from trauma, let that trusted listener help you make some goals so you can begin your healing journey, so you can begin to move forward, one step at a time.

Chances are that person (whom God can lead you to) may have come through the exact same thing. The listener is not going to reveal that right away, because your healing process isn’t about what everyone else has gone through. Your healing process is about you, your very real suffering, how valuable you are, and how possible it is to make strong choices moving forward.

We are cheering you on!

Melodic Words & Run Away _____.

My mother use to sing to me every morning, “Good morning Mary Sunshine, what makes you wake so soon…..”, and I carried on the tradition. Music has played such a large part in our lives. We’ve gone from singing in the kitchen and playing “name that tune”, to four part harmony after dinner, to my children falling asleep to my late night songwriting escapades. As our children got older they dug out their Dad’s record collection, and listened to him rave about rock concerts.

So you think making up songs to help my grand-daughter eat her turkey soup would come as no surprise. Then there was our breakfast ditty so little Willow would eat her breakfast. “Bread gets toasted, eggs get fried, bacon’s roasted, the fruit is dried, but it all takes time, it all takes time, please and thank you mom/dad for breakfast time.” ©cindy palin

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As our mealtime songs progressed I got the idea to record some of them on my   phone, which then birthed the idea of possibly writing them in a songbook for toddlers who don’t like to eat (which is just about every toddler on the planet), because there is just too many things to do other than sit still and eat.

Spending time with my grand-children over the holidays has really got the creative juices flowing, even changing diapers this morning proved to be inspirational. When my grand-son Thorin kicked and squirmed and sent a turd rolling off of the change table I couldn’t help but think of “On top of Spagetti”, where someone sneezed and sent the meatball rolling. I know the correlation is a bit of a stretch, but I can see Robert Munsch pulling off a run away turd story rather nicely.

But perhaps I will instead……

Looks like my New Year will be full of some exciting writing challenges!

I remember the day…

…I found out I had a TEMPER!

[clickandtweet handle=”” hashtag=”” related=”” layout=”” position=””]Not until I had children did I realize my limitations were grossly underestimated, and my opinion of myself was highly overrated.[/clickandtweet]

limitations-JPG-79On one specific occasion, after losing my cool, I threw myself on my knees beside my bed and cried out a very desperate prayer.

“Lord, if I can’t get it together, if I am going to keep losing my temper, then I need you to take me home and give my children another mom.”

 

 

I waited. Nothing happened. Several years passed and still nothing happened or so I thought. I guess I expected to be gone in a puff of smoke right then and there, and for God to replace me with ‘I Dream of Jeannie’.

He did replace me, everyday, I just couldn’t see it. By his love and grace, and patience I am no longer the same person I once was. The process has been slow, which reminds me of the other thing I’ve discovered – my absence of patience.

I am less of an emotional roller coaster today, probably because I get sleep, and my grown up kids let on like I wasn’t half bad.

But just when you think you’re getting a handle on parenting, the clock strikes twelve, and your kids have to parent you, grey hair ‘n all.