Forgiving Our Fathers and Mothers

The first workshop I attended at the 2014 Hearts at Home conference was Leslie Leyland Fields' Forgiving Our Fathers and Mothers.  Fields is an international speaker who has written nine books including Parenting is Your Highest Calling . . . and Eight Other Myths That Trap Us in Worry and Guilt as well as Forgiving Our Fathers and Mothers.  She lives on Kodiak Island, Alaska, with her husband of thirty-six years and the last two of her six children who range in age from eleven to twenty-five.

What I enjoyed the most about her presentation was her honest account of her own dysfunctional childhood mixed with healing based not only on the Bible, but also psychology.  Thus, the co-author of Forgiving Our Fathers and Mothers is Dr. Jill Hubbard, a clinical psychologist.

During Fields' talk, one could hear sobbing throughout the lecture hall for not only Fields' story, but for one's own story being not only acknowledged, but truly heard.  A woman in what looked to be in her fifties seated near me had a stream of tears running down her face.  My heart ached for her because I could see that hurt girl inside this woman and identify with her.  I wanted to reach over and wrap my arms around her, but movable desktops blocked my way.  Instead, I gave her my e-mail as we were shuffling out of the auditorium and told her she was not alone.

Over the years, I have heard in regards to my own personal story, "Get over it!" and "I am sorry for whatever you think I have done," which does nothing to ease the memory or the hurt.  In reading memoirs written by my writing students, the forms of abuse parents inflict on their children is unimaginable whether through threats, denial, accusations, or neglect to name a few.  In talking with others, I ask, "Why?"  For, a child is a gift from God.

Wishing to connect further with Fields and her story, I purchased Forgiving Our Fathers and Mothers and read it in a span of twenty-four hours.  Click here to read the review.

Out of 213 pages, I marked ninety-nine passages.  The following is a sampling . . .

". . . we are entrusted with our pasts, and we must make something out of the 'burden of our witnessing'"  (12).

" . . . our fathers and mothers are acts, attitudes, afflictions that affect each child differently and not evenly"  (36).

"Psalm 56:8 says, 'You keep track of all my sorrows.  You have collected all my tears in your bottle.  You have recorded each one in your book'"  (36-37).

"Too much frustration, chaos, and unpredictability [in a child's life] creates varying degrees of trauma"  (58).

" . . . must remember the child you once were, to give that child the validation and voice she or he never had"  (104).

"Those who have hurt us may not repent- ever.  They may not change in any way"  (123).

"God allows us to recall some of our memories as needed, and some He keeps recessed for our own protection until we are ready"  (173).


"Our childhoods are stolen.  The land we are taken to is oppressive.  We want only to escape"  (179).

" . . . God replaced all that with other people who cared"  (193).

"We do not need the offender's remorse or repentance in order to forgive, of course.  However, without that repentant response, we cannot be reconciled"  (199).

Dear Lord,
Thank you for having woman blessing Sarah K. think of me and invite me to Hearts at Home.  Thank you for connecting me with Leslie Leyland Fields, her book, and the woman seated next to me during the lecture.  Your work of six degrees of separation is humbling.  Please guide me to be the best mother I can be to my two girls.
In your name, I pray,
Amen

 

By Courtney Winkler

Goal Enactment

After reading woman blessing Julie Ford's Happy New Year Lovelies!, I felt motivated to set some goals.  Realizing I had somehow allowed my gratitude journal to slip from daily use, I invested in a journal I would want to write in daily.  
 

I love finding slightly imperfect journals at T.J. Maxx.

As Julie had written, I am still an avid fan of pen to paper writing, so I wanted a journal which would, in essence, call to me each evening while resting on the couch or right before bed.  Each night I write ten occurrences in the day for which I am thankful.  This may range from a kiss from the hub before he leaves for work to the giggles of my girls in the evening, doing anything to avoid hopping into bed at night. . . gratitude at finally being able to grab ahold of that annoying chin hair with my tweezers or the healing of that prominent pimple on my cheek (aaaah, the rewards of hormones in my 40s).  Thus, not gratitude for material items, but for the everyday happenings which matter the most.

In addition, I pledged the creation of more cards to send to loved ones or those in need.  Although I do not have the artistic card talents of women blessings Deb Ellis, Angie Henshaw, or Cathy Lynn, I can still (and will always) strive for that level of expertise and embrace the process for the joy which it brings to me, and I hope, those who receive my cards (or, at the very least, a chuckle at my attempts).

How are you coming along in your New Year's goals?

By Courtney Winkler

The Case of the Carbuncle

I can remember my younger self longingly looking forward to the end of all school so, in my case, I could finally have a classroom of my own, a place of my own, and this grown-up life of my own.  Then reality sets in . . .

As I age,  I am now introduced to death, disease, and hardship- items I hadn't anticipated in my youth.  My grandparents . . . gone.  My father . . . gone.  My best friend's father hospitalized for blood clots, a dear friend's father-in-law . . .  cancer.  Then, I hear from more . . . Alzheimer's, ALS, alcoholism . . .  It's like being a child and learning an entirely new alphabet minus the eagerness and innocence.  For me, a language I could do without. 

A middle-aged woman, I am now familiar with once unfamiliar terms such as carbuncles, Bartholin gland cysts, Somogyi Effect, ER+, and the like.  In my mind, I have earned nearly enough credits through personal experience to graduate medical school while keeping my dear friend, woman blessing and nurse practitioner extraordinaire Christin on her toes.

Case in point, my left eyelid was tender one morning.  The next morning it was swollen.  On the third morning, the day I was scheduled to meet women blessings Galusha and her niece at a baseball game, I was unable to open my left eye entirely -a hard, round, growth approximately the size of a marble was front and center on the lid.  Sexy!  

Fearful of this mass on my eye, I called my friend and told her I wouldn't be able to make the game.  Assuring me I'd be fine, she insisted I meet them.  Wearing my prescription glasses since contacts were out of the question, I sat in the bleacher seats with the sun beating down upon my carbuncle.   

As the bleachers cleared towards the end of the game, we noticed a disposable camera sitting solo to our right.  Together we thought, "What a great idea to take pictures of the carbuncle!"  So, a photo shoot of this growth ensued- tilting my head from side to side- and we laughed until we cried.  Then, we returned the camera to its original location.  Are we immature, or what?

When I think of that day or look at that scar on my eyelid, I can't help but smile a huge goofy grin.  If it weren't for that carbuncle, we may not have shed tears of joy that day, laughed great belly laughs, or revisited our youthful, immature selves (okay, we probably would have, but bear with me here).  In fact, just saying the term carbuncle aloud (my own perceived onomatopoeia) makes me giggle.

So, this, in turn, makes me think of Proverbs 17:22, "A joyful heart is good medicine . . . ."

Courtney Winkler

What a Difference a Year Makes with Women Blessings

Thank you Julie for inviting me here today to share my story. Because of your willingness to include me over a year ago in the Women's Retreat, I am here today to tell this tale. Thank you for your notes of encouragement, prayers, nourishment, and the gift of One Thousand Gifts. You fill me, Woman. 

Last year, I turned 40. If you're a woman, you know what this means . . . mammogram time. My first mammogram was scheduled the first week of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Because of suspicious findings, they immediately sent me for a sonogram. The results concluded a breast excision was in order. This is where they put the breast in question in the mammogram machine and then thread a wire into the breast to the mass. From there, they take you into surgery. What is interesting to note is that I never had any lumps. I had night sweats, but just assumed this was due to the possible onset of early menopause. Sorry, I know you've just eaten, but one night I did wake to nipple discharge which I now know is a symptom of breast cancer.

In the meantime, I had e-mailed Julie Ford regarding my interest in the Women's Retreat. I didn't know anyone who was going, but it sounded like an experience I didn't want to miss out on. After a few exchanged e-mails, Julie invited me to help plan the Women's Retreat. Without hesitation, always up for a new experience, I said, “Sign me up!” and I was soon introduced to more women blessings via Julie: Deb Inman, Angie Henshaw, Cindy Whitcomb, Dannette McKellar, and Sue Hansel to name a few. Each of these women became instrumental in my healing through prayer, nourishment, sharing of her own story, listening, and the teaching and loving of my oldest daughter, the one who was affected the most by the upset of this past year. Thank you! You have filled me. 

Shortly after the retreat, the call came where I was indeed positive for invasive tubular cancer. My three-year-old was a few feet from me when I received the call. I remember the adrenaline racing and my body entering fight or flight mode. My father had passed five years previous after a gruesome 11-month battle with cancer, so I had a first-hand glimpse of what may lie ahead. I had to fight. I had a 3 and 5 yr-old, and they needed more time with their momma. We scheduled the lumpectomy for the week of Thanksgiving, the one chance to save my ta ta. Soon after sharing the news, a knock was at my door. A woman blessing came in, prayed with me, wrapped me in a prayer shawl, listened, and shared. Before we knew it, the once lit room in which we were sitting was now dark. Time had passed, tears were shed, and I felt so much better. Thank you Cindy Whitcomb for filling me. 

One morning prior to surgery, I awoke thinking the word needs to be spread about breast cancer; let's turn a negative into positive. I e-mailed Deb and asked if a Get Pinked Party might be possible. She replied, “Yes!” and helped turn my impulsive idea into a reality. Many prayers of thanks for you, Deb, throughout this entire process.

My Women's Retreat roomie and tennis buddy, Masja LaRue donated a delicious pink ribbon cake and assisted Mary Kennett, who offered her hair services for pinking free of charge. This was a welcome distraction, and I enjoyed every minute of it connecting with more women blessings of all ages: Tonnie Schalk with her infectious laugh, whom I had only met a few times, not only jumped in and started painting nails, but also shared her own story. Thank you, and thank you to the many other women blessings who were Pinked that night. Your support filled me. 

A mastectomy was now inevitable, but while Chad and I were listening to the surgeon explain the skin-sparing procedure and follow-up treatments, I inquired about a double mastectomy. I did not want to have radiation and scans every six months. With two squirts, who has time for repeated doctor visits? The truth is I didn't want to make the time; instead, I wanted to use my time for authentic life experiences. I was fully resigned to the fact that this body is simply a shell, and we can't take it with us. I had witnessed my father's body shrivel to practically nothing, and it still haunts me to this day when I visualize it. I didn't want my girls to have to ever witness this, so I opted for removal of both breasts and honestly felt relieved about my decision.

My best friend and woman blessing, Sarah Bohnenstiehl, from the beginning campaigned for the double mastectomy, and I remember telling her she was nutty. In the end, though, and as always, I backtracked and told her she was right. She is always right! When I bounced worries and concerns off of her, her response was “Cansah Schmansah!” which became my mantra. The approach to treating breast cancer is aggressive and swift. One morning it had finally all sunk in, and I called my BFF crying. Her response, “I'll take Sissy for the day,” which is exactly what I needed. I needed that day to myself to let it all out, and I couldn't do that in front of my children. I am grateful every day for this woman blessing and work on intentionally letting her know.

As a further distraction, Deb and Julie wholeheartedly gave me the green light to go ahead with RUBY Magazine. I was so motivated and so full after our Women's Retreat I wanted to offer a means to further facilitate connections between women at Troy UMC. Meeting women at the retreat I may never have met as well as The Journey Team at Christ Church was the inspiration. The Bible verse, Proverbs 31:10, “She knew that she was worth far more than rubies . . .” always a favorite became the theme of Ruby. Little did I know at the time that we had our very own little woman blessing, Miss Ruby Price, right here with us at Troy UMC.

After a “heavy” forgiveness workshop at the retreat, I was in the food line talking with a woman from our church. We had this deep conversation about dysfunctional childhoods and forgiveness not knowing each other's names or stories. Months later, I ran into this same woman at church, and she agreed to a RUBY interview. While talking, she shared how she, too, was a breast cancer warrior and gave me such hope. Here she was this strong, active, square-dancing woman. Thank you Sue Hansel for filling me. 

After my surgery in January, women blessings immediately sprang into action by nourishing my family and myself with delicious meals. . . taking the time to stamp carrots into star shapes (Masja LaRue) which my girls loved and delivering pizza in a sleet storm (Amy Burrelsman). Every evening for six weeks, my whole family looked forward to our surprise meal with anticipation and then devoured the bounty Thank you to the women blessings who literally filled me and resulted in at least a 10 lb weight gain.

In addition, the notes, e-mails, and texts meant everything to me. Two women blessings chose to sooth me with cds which had helped each of them in their own times of need. Thank you Suzanne Price and Heather Budwell for filling me through music.

In February, I was hospitalized twice for infections which led to an unplanned surgery to remove one of my tissue expanders. My girls did not take this well. So, women blessings again came to the rescue. Sherri Volz and her boys accompanied Chad and my girls to the tubes at Mickey D's one Saturday only to care for my diarrhea laden daughter in the restroom. When I returned home from the hospital, Sherri asked if I needed anything. I responded, “Boobs!” Little did I know she would bring me my very own boobs complete with nipples and a bra in the form of cake. Thank you for filling me and making me laugh, one of my favorite pastimes. 

Between hospital stays with drains hanging out of my sides and my chest wrapped in a surgical bra, a woman blessing came to my house on several occasions complete with hair supplies to at least keep my hair rockin'. Thank you Miss Mary for filling me. 

With a prosthetic left ta ta to now even me out, infections cleared, and implantation insertion scheduled, I was anxious to live a full life again. Having met a woman blessing while volunteering for VBS the previous year, I looked forward to joining her and other women blessings in Faithful Fitness by completing two 5Ks with her. Thank you Beth Miramonti for inviting me to feel whole again and begin work on losing those 10+ lbs.

In other aspects of my spiritual life, I was anxious to become involved. While waiting to speak to a staff member one morning, I decided to have some private time in the sanctuary. A woman blessing I had seen at the Women's Retreat, remembered her cute do, but didn't know entered the sanctuary and asked if I'd like her to pray with me. Unbeknown to me, I was relieved at her invitation and tears began to fall as I relayed what was heavy on my heart to this stranger. I had recently received a text message on Easter morning from a female blood relative informing me that my breast cancer was God's way of punishing me. This woman blessing's prayers that morning lifted the weight bearing down on my heart. Thank you Sue Busler for being intentional and approaching me. You fill me. 

You are all women blessings, and I thank you for filling me every day. As a reminder of your ability to nourish families, mend broken hearts, and evoke laughter, I have a tiny mirror for each of you to stow away in your coin purse, for example. So, the next time you're riffling through your purse, perhaps this mirror will be a reminder of all you are capable of in improving the lives of others and my everlasting gratitude for each of you, my sisters in Christ.*

*As a side note, the focus of today was on women blessings. Men blessings, too, first and foremost my husband, raised me up this past year, but that talk is for another day.

Courtney Winkler