A Sucker For Love

I was betrayed today, and it hurt.  Betrayal comes in many forms, but it always strikes suddenly, rudely, and is unexpectedly painful. 

I've experienced quite a lot of betrayal throughout my life, and because of this, I've become better at just one thing - forgiveness.  I still make the mistake of trusting someone, almost anyone, with a piece of my soul.  I still pour myself into building someone up, giving them chance after chance, helping them make their own heart whole and healthy.  I still find myself blindsided emotionally, mentally and always spiritually when the betrayal hits me from behind, like a sneaker wave, forcing my feet out from under me and plunging my heart once again into the undertow of selfish deceit.  But down there, swirling around, tossing and turning with tumultuous waves of regret, I find my knees gripping the sand and hear that Voice, "Forgive!"  "Forgive?  Again?"  "Forgive and love exceedingly."  And I do.  By the grace of God alone, I do.

I went through a time where I almost decided that the price was too high, that loving someone who would very likely break my heart in a dishonorable and irreparable way wasn't worth the risk.  It was during my first year in college.  At the young age of 17, I actually had a lot of love in my life and I'd never doubted my worth to my close family and friends.  I never doubted the steady, unchanging love of my Lord either, and I am confident that this assurance is what anchored my hope in the basic goodness of humanity.  But, I had also been hurt by that same human love, and the very people I wanted to trust with my heart had been the ones to introduce me to the experience of betrayal, over and over, until I came to expect it as a part of the cycle through which a normal relationship evolved.

By the time I was graduating from high school, my parents, who had divorced when I was two years old, were still struggling to find their true love.  My dad married for the fourth time and my mom for the third time during my senior year.  Each previous marriage had come with a new parent, an attempt to build a relationship with that step parent and their extended family, and a hope of a future with these new people in my life.  Each divorce brought the death of those relationships and that hope.  When a step parent leaves, there are no visitation rights for them.  In most cases, the moment they packed their bags and left, was the last time I ever saw them... and their children, my step-siblings... and the grandparents I'd come to love.  And remember, between the two of them, my parents went through four divorces, which meant dozens and dozens of people, just gone from my life...

It was like half of my family just died, but I knew they were still alive.  And I felt betrayed.  Betrayed by the parents who'd made promises, who'd given me hope and the potential to have even more love in my life.  Betrayed by those who left and never contacted me ever again.  It would have been very easy to blame myself, to take it personally and wonder just how unlovable a person could possibly be...   As a credit to my parents, I never doubted that I was loved, but what I couldn't understand is how to let that longing for love go with each person who left.  And it hurt so badly to invest in a relationship that I didn't even choose, to receive love and acceptance in return... and then to be cut off and ignored...

So I began to question the value of those investments.  Why would I, why should I keep putting myself out there, exposing my heart to people who were just going to give me a taste of love, enough of a taste to create a longing for more... and then turn their backs on me?  In the pop book, Twilight, Edward tells Bella that she is "his own personal brand of Heroin"- super corny, I know.  But I really understand that concept because of all of the love I've known in my life.  Each person had their own way of loving me, their own brand of love that fulfilled me in a different way.  And when it was cut off, I ached for it.  And I felt betrayed by the loss of that love.  Wouldn't it be easier, and far less painful not to experience that love in the first place, I asked myself?  Then, I reasoned, at least I wouldn't know what I was missing.

So I held back from my new step parents.  I purposely kept my distance physically, which was easy because I was at college and away from home and of course, emotionally.  I guarded my heart, as they say.  I envisioned a heart clothed in armor, protected by layers of steel-plated, seamless garments.  I looked for things to separate us, offenses, idiosyncrasies, anything that would keep me from becoming attached to them.  And I hated myself.  And through much prayer and counsel and self-realization, I came to the conclusion that I'm just a sucker for love.  Plain and simple, I'm a love addict.  I can't get enough and even though I'm guaranteed to get hurt - badly- I'll spend the rest of my life going back for more...  more love and more potential betrayal.

I was betrayed today.... again.  This time it was a colleague, a person I've spent years supporting, encouraging, and building what I thought was a trusting friendship.  I've invested, I've cared, and I've loved.  I've loved, not just the person, but her potential, her passions, her pursuits.  And I've carved roads for her to help her get there.  I've gone to bat for her, defended her, counseled and consoled her, kept her secrets.  I've lost sleep over her!!  And it wasn't enough, I guess.  Because I didn't even hear about the betrayal from her, which is sort of what makes it a betrayal in the first place.  She will be gone from my life and I will miss her particular brand of friendship and love.  But I will forgive and move on, to love and be betrayed.... again.

The Daily Life and Death Choices We Make

My sister-in-law called tonight.  She found a lump in her breast and the diagnosis is
Ductal Carcinoma, which, as far as breast cancers go, has a promising recovery rate.  She will have a lumpectomy and radiation and she sounded almost peachy about the whole thing.

I know I'm being harsh and that I've had an hour to process and she has had close to two weeks since her first encounter with the idea, but she said she's "at peace" and knows that God is in control.  And I'm irritated, and frustrated, and pissed off!  At HER!  And I couldn't tell her that...  because of what I've been through, because I know people felt that way about me.  And I didn't want to hear it.

When I had my first heart attack, and then my second, which led to a single coronary bypass surgery, I didn't question anything.  I didn't ask for a second opinion, an alternative treatment option or even the credentials of the surgeon who would be calling the shots, holding my heart in his hands and piecing it back together.  I didn't question anything because I felt guilty and ashamed.  I was fat, out of shape and abusive to my body.  I deserved to die, and if not die, then at least suffer a great deal.  I had no right to question anything, and I had no one to blame but myself. I accurately presumed that everyone in my family felt irritated, frustrated and pissed off at me!  

I had been warned so many times.  Doctor after doctor after doctor begged, ordered and bribed me to lose weight, get fit, take care of myself.  But I didn't, or couldn't... not sure which it was... I didn't have the will power I guess, or the right motivation.  I didn't love myself enough, someone told me.  Another suggestion was that I didn't respect God's creation or "temple" enough- so that would be calling it a sin to be fat...  thus the guilt and shame.  It didn't seem to matter that in every other area of my life I was successful, amazing even, hard working, creative and definitely motivated.  But my weight - at almost 300 pounds- was beyond me.  People actually would tell me things like, "Just eat less and move more... it's easy".  uh hmm... sure.

I understand that being fat and having a lump in one's breast isn't necessarily a fair comparison.  But six years ago, my sister-in-law had a mammogram that looked suspicious.  She was sent for an ultrasound and it was inconclusive.  Doctors recommend a minimally invasive biopsy of the shadowy area in question.  And my sister said, "no".  Her breast, her choice.  She said at the time that her feelings were peaceful about the decision, that God would have told her if it wasn't the right one.  I respected that, but still worried.  She swore off mammograms forever, believing that they were just another way for the medical profession to make money and create fear in women.  Then, six years later she felt a lump in that same suspicious spot...

So that's where the irritation, frustration and anger comes in.  She could have done something before now.  They could have caught it immediately and taken care of it.  She chose ignorance over assurance and in essence chose death over life.  Just like with every bite of food I ate that was more than I needed or not nutritiously valuable for my body, she made a decision every day to ignore something her body needed.  I ignored my body's cry for help... and I shortened my life expectancy by many years, I believe.  Now my sister has cancer in her body that even if removed, will threaten her health for the rest of her life. 

Does God know the number of our days?  Yes, I believe He does.  Does He know the choices that we will make which affect the length of our lives?  Again, yes.  Does it even matter then, that we pay attention to how we live our lives, or is the length of our time here predestined, precluding any effort on our part to live healthier, stronger, longer or smarter?  I have to believe that a God that gives us free will would also give us the rewards of using that free will to make good choices, bettering ourselves in every area so that we can live longer, healthier, happier lives.  

However, people die of heart disease and cancer every minute of every day.  Young people die.  Good people die.  REALLY good, godly people die who definitely don't deserve it.  People who have made all the best choices for their health and who make the world a better place, who glorify God and bless everyone they encounter, just die...  And then some people who don't deserve it, live long, sickly, miserable lives.  I don't get it.  I don't expect to get it... ever.  Not everything makes sense and I can accept that there are things that I just won't understand this side of heaven.

But I won't give in to the mentality that God is so in control of me that I can't control the length of my life.  I trust Him to show me how to live each moment in ways that please Him and bless the people around me.  And I don't worry about what comes next, after this life.  I don't even think about it much.  I can't.  I'm too busy trying to love people into that "next life" to worry about how many jewels I'll have in my crown or rooms in my mansion.  

I really do want to live a long, strong, adventurous life.  And I want to live it with my sister-in-law by my side, rockin' on the porch together, praying for our children, grands and great grands, worshiping in the spirit, breathing in the goodness of God, sharing the joys and trials of life... for many, many years to come.  Oh God!  let it be years and years and years...