Oh, man...it's been SO hard not to go back and EDIT last night's blog, "Not Tonight, God..." Because, you see, I want you to LIKE me. I've always been wired like that. The experts call it Codependence. Works like this: my OK'ness hangs on whether you like me or not. You get it, right? So, if I holler at God and let Him see my anger is AT HIM, it's like when I was a kid in Little League and I spiked my batting helmet for striking out. That behavior was always followed by "the silent treatment". In my family, I took that treatment to mean, "your behavior was unacceptable and we aren't going to talk to you until you can act like a Phillips". Of course, being a little junior codependent, I thought it meant "if I don't get it right every time, they're not going to love me!" I don't think that was the message they sent at ALL, but somehow it's what I assimilated. The "little kid psyche" is a weird thing. Easily influenced and yet excruciatingly hard to change a wrong imprint or notion about one's self. I've done a lot of work around that, with mixed results...but at least now, I recognize the behavior and misapplication of Truth about who GOD says I am, and have a chance to correct it. Welllll...you didn't stop by for a lesson in Codependency recovery, did you? I didn't think so.
Back to the grieving process: So, I ain't changin' last night's blog...even tho' I'm tempted to. I'm leaving it JUST like it is, because it IS the way I felt last night and I promised myself that I would be open and vulnerable and let you see exactly what's in there when it occurs. (This could get ugly...oh, it already did? Hmmm.) Today, I sat and talked with a few friends who geniunely care about my busted heart. I could feel their love and concern...right down to my guts. That helped me...a lot. Another good friend called on me to speak in a large meeting of brand newly sober folks...ugh. I was afraid I'd taint them, too, if I didn't tell them that sobriety was GRRRRREAT!!!! Well, I stuck with the rigorous honesty plan and told them that getting sober and living a spirtual lifestyle was about more than just skipping that beer today. I told them it was helping prepare them for LIFE that was headed their way...and lest they mistakenly think that 21 years in recovery means it's all smooth sailing, I burst that bubble by telling them I was walking through a really tough grief experience having buried my little brother of 41 years last week in Colorado. You could hear the hush fall over the room. People KNOW this hurts. To some extent, they FEEL it when I share the story. I hear a LOT of brother stories after a deal like that, ending with, "I'm gonna call him this afternoon and just tell him I love him!" I love it! Oh, and I got a lot of hugs after the meeting. Quick note: the girls smell better than the guys. I'm just sayin'...
I assured them that these devastating life blows weren't an every day event in recovery, but that one must begin building a faith that can withstand this kind of test. And I made sure they knew that didn't mean perfoming perfectly when tested. God knows my perfectionist keeps getting up out of the grave trying to take over my recovery...rearing its ugly head at the most inopportune times. Oh, well. Spiritual progress, not spiritual perfection, right? I spent part of the day thinking about my "earthly fatherless" nephews and praying for each of them in light of their VERY individual personalities. I could see each of the three dealing VERY differently with the experience during the memorial and the week I was there with them, because each of them is so different. (Tho' all are exceptional boys, in my humble opinion of course.) So, I'm asking God to hold them tightly and the same for their lovely mother, my sister in law, Suzi...and I believe that God does that rather well. While I can't often get Him to change outcomes, I have been struck many times with just how perfectly He walks with us through the fire. Unbelievable. I believe the Daniel and the Lion's Den story from childhood...AND the fiery furnace deal, too. God was in that fire...and He's in this one too...right beside us as we feel the searing heat of grief and loss, somehow mysteriously perfecting us in that God-like way that only He understands. : /
6 comments:
Wes, I can't begin to feel your pain. I was a friend. Not a brother. The kids deal with this pain in such different ways. The new normal is long away. We love them, his wife and pray daily for strength and grace. We look in their eyes and weep on the inside. I can not know their pain, just know I need to be their for them. Tomorrow the kids will play laser tag with my son. And I hope for a moment just to be kids again. My wife and I will love them support them, and be servants for them. I wish we could be there for you and his family more. We love Bart, you, and all his family. Keep writing, keep feeling this. God strengthens us, and prepares us to be servants for all that feel loss. Your words mean so much, and allows me to feel closer to your brother. God bless.
Robert...thanks so much for what you're doing with the boys. For what that does for Suzi...and for loving my little brother. I am overwhelmed by how many people have told me that Bart meant something special to them. What a reward this is for him...but for me, too, as I remember life lessons we learned together, things we fought learning, ways we struggled to co-exist as brothers at times, and ultimately, just how much we loved spending time together the last few years when he travelled with Focus. I think I saw him more after he moved from Texas to Colorado, since his territory was here in Texas. Thanks again for what you're doing...and for sharing your heart.
Hey friend, I don't know how really seriously you were thinking about editing that post. I knew you wouldn't. Even after we both might have heard your dad say... "Whoa, Alvin."
We heard that plenty over the years.
You mighta kinda mozied away mumbling,"... not gonna change it... it ain't changin'... it stays." He and I stared silently with looks of "how we gonna change this?" As usual, I wasn't quite sure how he answered that 'cause he never said. Nor was I big enough to tell him what I thought the answer was... "I don't think we are, Mr. Phillips."
Praise God that He is big enough to see through your pain and anager and edit your words Himself! I have not lost a sibling but have lost my mom- 12 years ago and it still hurts! Grief is not pretty or easy or fun, but I know and you know that though it takes a while, "joy comes in the morning", knowing that your family will all be together on the other side. So in the meantime know that God gives you permission to grieve and to be angry.
Wes, I love your transparency, dont' second guess your thoughts ever!
I was reminded of Acts 26:16
'Now get up and stand on your feet. I have appeared to you to appoint you as a servant and as a witness of what you have seen of me and what I will show you.
many prayers for you and your family!!!
Just an update. Suzi and the kids made it to church today. Seeing them worship, comfort one another and be so strong for the rest of us was truly inspiring. The boys seemed to enjoy a respite playing laser tag. They came by the house after and to see Gabe smile for just a moment was beautiful. He wears his fathers watch, and is so strong. I hope he remembers to be a kid again someday. They all check on mom, and I can only hope my kids would do the same. Helped out at the house getting the computer squared away for Suzi. I have to say it was so hard to breathe. Just feeling Bart's presence in everything. We talk about him often with our daughter, to love others, not condemn, meet adversity with an open heart and a smile. I hope I can see you when I am in town later in September. Take care, and know you are in our prayers.
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