Category: God

Bible, family, God, My Story, Travel

Write! Part 5

brittanymputman

Paradox…

Even though I highlight how hard it was for me to make those trips out to see my sister, Lynette, I would be remiss if I didn’t also say, I wanted to see her too. It’s a funny paradox that I could fight so hard internally to not do something, when it’s also something I truly wanted to do. How is that so? I suppose it’s the complex nature of being human. So, at this point in my story, I made the necessary steps towards another trip to the East Coast. I hopped on a plane to spend one full day at the hospital with my sister. I didn’t plan to see any of the family this time, just Lynette. Just one day with my sister, …in case it was the last chance to see her. One day to say the ‘last things’. One day to create final memories. One… Day…

I put a lot of expectations on that trip. Without having anything concrete to grab hold of, I prepared for the worst. I packed my bags not knowing if I’d see Lynette, being improved or writhing from another nauseatingly painful headache. Would she be awake to talk with or would she be quiet – the quiet that leads to eternal sleep? What was I getting into? What emotions would my heart be confronted with over this fast weekend? Maybe I could just put my best face forward, push aside the biggest ‘what ifs’, and walk boldly into the sterile environment of the hospital. … And that’s what I did. 

My kids sent me with their stuffies!

I arrived in town late in the evening and had an Uber take me to my hotel room, one that a dear family friend paid for with his reward points. I settled into bed, exhausted and unsure of what to expect. I was in a beautiful comfortable space, but the void of being alone was deeply felt. I sent a few quick texts to my family back home and grabbed a book. Could I read long enough to doze off? Thankfully, it worked. I fell asleep that night and when I woke, I got ready for the big day ahead. When I arrived at the hospital, I called Shaun, my sister’s husband, and found my way to Lynette’s room. 

The Next Right Thing…

My memory becomes fuzzy at this point. Was she awake or asleep when I walked in? Does it matter? The early part of that visit lives in my memory as individual disjointed pieces – Pieces that don’t necessarily fit into any order. Pieces that come in and out of focus and therefore blur the lines of precision. What I remember might not be the exact reflection of what took place, but it’s what’s stayed with me and how it’s become nestled into my life story.

Taking this trip was my ‘next right thing’ (see previous post). Walking into the hospital was the ‘next, next right thing’. Walking into my sister’s room with a deep breath and a resolve to carry on, was the next right thing. A prayer, ‘Lord help me’. I lift up the corners of my mouth into a smile and walked forward. I entered the room and greeted Shaun with a smile. I made it. I did it! I was here with my sister. I think the room was dark when I arrived. She was still sleeping, about ready to wake up. I chatted with Shaun about how she was doing and how my trip was. As she stirred, Shaun went to her side to say ‘Good morning’. He was always sweetly attentive to Lynette. She groggily greeted him while I tried to busy myself with looking somewhere else. I didn’t want to intrude in what felt like an intimate moment. Yet, I was there… in the room. I couldn’t help but be a witness to the relationship built over years of marriage – good, easy times and working through difficulties together. This is intimacy that time and commitment builds. This is intimacy that looks at the other and sees her as a person in need of help and him as a person who can help. There is trust in this interchange, deep trust.

As she got herself more awake, we said ‘hello’ to each other. Shaun ran downstairs to get her a coffee treat from the food court and she prepared for breakfast. It was good to see her eat. Isn’t that funny to say? Yet another thought we don’t expect to think. It was good to see my sister eat. Having an appetite was a good sign of how she was feeling. Yet, I could see how the weeks in the hospital and this illness had taken a toll on her, mentally and bodily. She was slower to move, slower at speech. Her left side still wasn’t ‘working’ and she was sleepy. Another memory of my sister that I’d rather not have. Another data point of the weakness that comes when a body and mind are fighting for health and survival. 

Lynette’s will to remain alive was strong. For a person who seldom seemed to follow after the latest medical advice, she knew with this disease, she must seek every option available – medical and natural. The day I traveled out to see her was the same day she had her first chemo and radiation. She was deemed stable enough to start treatments. I wasn’t expecting this at all! I still wasn’t sure how this would affect her health and our visit, but there was a glimmer of hope. 

After breakfast Lynette slept for a good part of the morning. She ended up feeling really nauseous and since that had meant pressure on her brain in the weeks earlier, I was bracing myself for the worst. Would she be in this pain that doesn’t end all day? All day on the one day that I’m here to see her? Would this be the memory I take away with me? Luckily, it wasn’t. 

Actually, I had forgotten this part until I reread the Facebook Prayer Posts that her husband faithfully made daily during this time. So, when my mind was jogged about the nausea, the memory came back. The worry and fear is tangible again as I write this out. I was scared. I just didn’t want to see my sister in such pain. It’s hard to see someone you love be in pain, especially when there’s no way to soothe that hurt. It’s something you can endure when you know there’s an end to it, like when my kid has a headache and I know 30 minutes after taking some pain medicine he or she is likely to feel mostly normal again. But this intense pain was one that seemingly had no end. This pain was one that in the past meant surgery again and again. I’m no medical professional. I’m only a sister hoping to see my sister hold on long enough to beat back this disease, this cancer.  I am a bystander. I can observe, I can do my best to comfort, but I couldn’t take it away from her. I could only pray and trust that her nurses and doctors could give her something that would make her feel better. 

Thankfully, she did get relief from the nausea and it became clear that it was more likely to have been due to her first chemo and radiation treatments from the day before rather than from tumor growth and pressure. Phew! What a relief. But, unfortunately for her, she was also going to have to have a lot more chemo and radiation in her future. The nausea subsided and Lynette fell asleep. I spent a good portion of the day in a dimly lit hospital room quietly talking with Shaun while Lynette slept. She slept most of the morning and afternoon. Then she was taken away for her second radiation treatment. When she returned she slept some more.

At this point, I was feeling impatient and jealous of the sleep. I wanted time with my sister, conscious time. I wanted to talk to her, laugh with her, and cry with her. I wanted to connect with my big sister and all I ended up doing was watching her sleep. This wasn’t fun. It didn’t feel meaningful. I was bored and anxious – anxious for the dwindling hours I had left to visit with her. Unless I spent the night, I had to leave when visiting hours ended. I wanted more time! Internally I was struggling with feelings of being deprived of the hours with my sister. Doubts about whether I was wasting my time and all the things that went into this trip assailed me. What was I doing? What was the purpose of all this? If I could’ve thrown a mini tantrum, I just might have. 

Birch-Tree-Pillars…

This was not turning out to be the trip I wanted it to be. I was tired, uncomfortable, and still felt scared deep inside. What was I scared of? Well, losing my sister. Losing that person who’s known me all my life. Losing all the shared memories and random conversations. Losing that person who tells me things like it is without apology. Losing a person who’s a strong pillar in my life. She was an anchor for me at times and at other times a rudder. Yes, that might seem extreme, and I don’t mean she was ALWAYS those things, but she certainly was a person who helped guide me from time to time. She pointed me to Jesus and logical sense. I miss that aspect of our relationship. The metaphorical “pillar” she left behind is embedded in me now and it won’t be going anywhere, but it also won’t be growing and changing anymore. There are other internal “pillars” growing up and shifting around the “Lynette pillar”. But hers is now stationary and set. It’s not living and active anymore. That’s a hard truth to accept and also hard to express. 

Photo by Karolina Grabowska http://www.kaboompics.com: https://www.pexels.com/photo/birch-forest-5616/

If I close my eyes, it’s like I can see a mental picture of a forest of pillars, meaningful pillars for my life. They look like the brown-spotted, white trunks of birch trees – tall, slim, strong, beautiful, close together. But her ‘birch-tree-pillar’ has turned to gray stone. It’s now a bit more of a monument. The other ‘pillars’ in my life are still growing. They still remain rooted when the wind blows, but they bend and shift as the seasons dictate. There is room for flexibility in my growing forest of birch-tree-pillars, but not hers. 

This makes me ask, what are pillars in my life? What makes something stick internally? Are these metaphorical pillars always people? Can they be maxims that I live my life by? Are they experiences? Do I see Jesus as a pillar or is he something else? Something grander, something stronger, something more stable and more true? So, I close my eyes and see that forest of birch-tree-pillars. I search for a tree that’s thicker or taller than the others, as I assume a Jesus-pillar would be. I can’t see one. I look for an object, maybe something made of stone that’s pillar-like and big, strong, imposing… I don’t see one. I feel ashamed. Where is my Jesus-pillar in this forest? I know He’s as important as my sister, as the church I grew up in, as my family, and all the things I’ve learned and held onto in my life. Indeed, he’s more important. So, where is the pillar of Jesus? Why can’t I find it?

In a quiet panic, I drill my mind to think about what defines pillars. Maybe there’s something I’m missing. I ask AI to tell me about  pillars in the Bible. I know there must be an answer, but I can’t seem to find it. Everything comes up dry. I take a break. I re-engage. Nothing… Isn’t Jesus a pillar? A support? A person who is reliable and central in my life? Yes, He is! So, where is my Jesus-pillar in this mental picture? Wait…maybe He isn’t a pillar. Maybe He is something else. What is it that the Bible calls him? What does the Scripture say about him in architectural terms? I pray, “God, what is Jesus in these terms?” Then it comes to me. “Cornerstone.” Mark 12:10 says, “‘The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.”.Jesus is called the cornerstone. 

Jesus, My Foundation and Cornerstone…

A peace settles over me. Wow, I couldn’t find Jesus in my forest of birch-tree-pillars because He isn’t one.  That’s okay and actually right! He isn’t a pillar. He is THE CORNERSTONE. This fear that I somehow was being told by my mental picture that Jesus wasn’t central since He wasn’t in my pillar-forest, was actually pointing exactly to His proper place. Jesus isn’t just a pillar added to support me. He is the cornerstone, the Foundation. He is the first stone set to orient and anchor the entire structure of my life (paraphrase of a definition from AI of what a cornerstone is). In this same AI overview it said, “While both [pillars and cornerstones] symbolize strength, the cornerstone defines the starting point, whereas pillars provide ongoing structural support.”

That’s it! Yes! Jesus is my starting point. He is my foundation. He is what points me in the direction I should go. John 1:1-4 in the Bible says, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.” Of course, this is it. God is good to remind me of these things. The things that I know deep down, but that fly out of my mind when other things try to crowd in. I thought I was looking for Jesus as a pillar, but I needed to look back to the beginning. He is the one who began all that I know and it’s on His safe, secure, and firm foundation that I build my life. The pillars in my life support this and that’s also why they are so meaningful. They continue to point me towards Jesus and the life He asks me to live. Because of Him I can do all things – even take a deep breath and with a resolve to carry on, do the next right thing… walk into that hospital room and wholeheartedly LOVE my sister in any state I would find her in.

Lynette has been a pillar in my life, but Jesus is my foundation and cornerstone.

(To be continued in a future blog post)…

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family, God, My Story

Write! Part 4

brittanymputman

Kid Sister…

She looked at me and said, ‘When I think about my upcoming surgery, I’m scared. But then I think about how you went through three surgeries with your c-sections. If you did it, I can do it. It gives me a lot of comfort knowing that you went through surgeries before me.’ I was a bit stunned to hear Lynette, my big sister, share this me. First, that ‘little sister complex’ keeps telling me that I don’t have much to offer my big sister. But here she is telling me that I’ve been through something she’s never been through and that’s giving her courage and comfort! Secondly, she was referring to my c-sections, of which I always felt that she was a staunch opponent of unless really medically necessary. I had my first child by c-section out of medical necessity and my other two were arguably necessary. I guess it just depends on who’s standards you’re using.

I always felt a little bit like I let my sister down when I had my babies by c-section. She was the ‘au naturalel’ childbirth woman and I assumed I’d follow in her footsteps (or rather, six labors before even my first one). But due to uncontrollable circumstances, I definitely went to the opposite end of the spectrum. She never came down on me for this, but I didn’t feel much like a champion childbirther around her either. So, I just didn’t talk much about my birthing choices with her. Now, here she was redeeming my choices of agreeing to c-sections for my babies and re-writing what I assumed she thought about me and my childbirth outcomes. The area where our life stories took two distinct paths now had a bridge. My three surgeries now held something that Lynette needed – courage. She needed to know that she could make it through her surgeries. It gave her encouragement that her kid sister had done it and so she could do it too. What a gift she gave me in telling me how that was meaningful to her. As strange as it may seem, it made me feel closer to her and like I was helping her in some small way. I felt connected to her in a new way and thankful for my past experience with surgeries. Here I was feeling helpless, but unknown to me, something about my lived experience was aiding my sister through the big surgery ahead. 

Time to Say Goodbye (for now)…

My time to say goodbye had come. After a few days of visiting, seeing my sister, her family, and my mom and brother who had come to visit, it was time for me to head back home. Saying goodbye was difficult. The next day she was having her first brain surgery to remove as much of the tumor as possible. I questioned, ‘Would she make it through? Would she live? Can they, the medical community, fix this?’ There was no assurance that she would be back to normal, doing better, or doing worse than at this very moment. All I had to hold onto was the last few days from our visit together. I felt unsure, but somewhat hopeful. I hoped that the doctors could remove all of her tumor. I hoped that this would stop her seizures. I hoped that this would give her movement back on her left side. I hoped it would be the end of her cancer. 

As I woke up the next morning to catch my flight, my sister was ‘catching’ her ride to the hospital. She’d be having brain surgery while I was flying home. (What a strange sentence. I never expected that to be a sentence I’d ever write.) I made it home without any trouble and anxiously awaited the news of her surgery. Surgery was finished! The good news is that the doctor thought he had gotten 90% of the tumor. A later MRI revealed he had gotten about 95% of it! Praise the Lord. That was wonderful news and put me into a good place as my family headed south to visit my mom and brother’s family in central Illinois. 

We already had travel plans to head south before I made my big leap to the east coast of the United States. So, when we arrived to visit with my brother and sister-in-law, we joked about how long it had been since we saw each other. Yes, this was the brother who I just saw at my sister’s house. We updated our spouses by sharing about our experience and shared our sadness over our sister’s cancer diagnosis. It was just as hard on my brother to see his big sister in such an immobile state. Jesse, my brother, has SUCH a big heart. His love is big and that love goes out to his big sister too. I’m sure he could fill pages with memories too. They argued and wrestled with each other, but they also were each other’s playmate all throughout their childhood. A favorite picture is one where they shared a pair of Dad’s coveralls! Their two small frames could fit inside of one pair of Dad’s large coveralls. The smiles from the photo show such joy and love on their faces. 

Lynette & Jesse in Dad’s Coveralls

While we were all finally relaxing together, we got a text from Shaun, her husband. He was asking us to pray again for Lynette. She wasn’t feeling the greatest and needed some prayer. Immediately we four stopped what we were doing and right then and there, we prayed. We prayed with much hope and belief that whatever was afflicting her would stop because we were praying for her. We sent a photo of the four of us because we just so happened to be together. Shaun responded that Lynette liked the picture and could really sense those prayers. Her pain was even subsiding a bit! We happily praised the Lord and continued our time together.

On the day we were getting ready to head back home, Jesse and I shared breakfast together. It was a relaxed breakfast as we had our last bits of time to talk. As we ate, we once again reflected on Lynette and how this affected us and how it affected our family. With our emotions heightened, we started to cry. Just a little bit of tears and some nervous laughter to follow. It was just really hard. Our big sister was very ill and we were so far from her. We didn’t know what to expect. We didn’t know if we’d continue to have all our siblings or if one day, we’d be taking pictures with one less. As we wrestled with our feelings, we also joked in an effort to keep things light. In the last minutes before we headed out, it was time to take a quick picture together. With tears in our eyes, but smiles on our lips, we captured a moment of real connection between us, the two youngest siblings – Jesse and Brittany.

Jesse and me after a teary-eyed breakfast

Updates on the Journey…

Over the next week, I waited anxiously for updates. Lynette’s husband posted regular updates for all to see and I am ever so thankful for those. Each day we got to hear about the progress she was making. Each day, he posted prayer requests so we could pray along with the family. Each day brought more hope as we saw small, but steady improvement. I was so relieved. Her speech was improving. She could wiggle her left leg a bit. Her appetite had returned. All signs pointed towards continued improvement until a week out from her surgery. Suddenly she had a massive headache. Her pain was at a 10 out of 10 and the doctors had to keep increasing the medicine to get her pain level to decrease. Unsure of what was going on, they took her for a CT scan. This scan revealed that she had an infection in her incision sight. So, they had to get her back into surgery to clean out the site (Sept. 8.). What an anxious day that was! Later, cultures would reveal that she had a staff infection and would need 6 weeks of IV antibiotics and a longer hospital stay.

After feeling hope lift and lift for 6 days, it was really hard to comprehend what could be happening with this sudden headache. And when it didn’t resolve overnight, that was even more confusing. What’s happening? Her tumor is mostly gone, it’s practically not there anymore. How could she possibly be having what felt like a relapse? Why is this happening to her? She’s supposed to be getting better. She’s supposed to just keep on improving. This is not the trajectory I had imagined. I wrestled with the feelings of disappointment, discouragement, and confusion. The question, ‘Why’? came to mind over and over again. It didn’t make sense. I didn’t understand it. AND… I didn’t want to accept it. Setbacks were not allowed in my book. 

Yet, the next five and a half weeks was only setbacks it seemed. One after another. This infection was a very tricky one and pesky too. It wouldn’t resolve and sent her back to surgery two more times (Sept. 23 & Oct. 7). From headaches, to swelling, to a breakthrough seizure (Sept. 28) and a bit of tumor growth, things weren’t looking the greatest. After five brain surgeries (Biopsy, original surgery, 3 clean ups), they’d be reluctant to do anymore surgeries if something further happened to her. I started to worry that maybe things wouldn’t resolve this time. It was getting pretty serious and I felt the fear and grief course through me. As I cried to my husband about these hard developments, he told me in no uncertain terms, that I needed to go out there again. All I could see were the obstacles: There’s no time! There’s no money! We are traveling to a retreat soon! I have my teaching schedule!

Building Resilience…

 All these were really just excuses though. Yet again I was afraid to travel out to see my sister on my own. What was I going to do? I didn’t want my sister to die. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I didn’t think I had the inner strength to go through with a visit to seeing her in a hospital! … And personally, hospitals are not my favorite place to be … and on and on I went. One excuse after another because it was just so hard to face the inevitable. It’s hard to do BIG things, at least for me. It’s hard to put myself into uncomfortable situations. Yet, that’s a big part of life. It’s a big part of what we want our children to learn. You can do HARD things! You CAN! How many times have I said that to my kids? Each of them face their own giants and each of them must learn to overcome them. Resiliency isn’t something we get to choose to have or not have. It is essential to the human experience. We must grow in resiliency and each small step, or big step, grows us in that. This was yet another step in my growth towards more resiliency.

Could I handle this step? Would it overtake me? Or would I somehow make it through? Would God be with me and carry me in this most hard time? What was I going towards and how would I get through it? 

…I’ll write about the trip in my next post. But, I wanted to take a moment and just sit with this a bit. Things get hard, really hard. We have choices to make left and right. Sometimes we have people beside us who can coach us and encourage us, like I had my husband. And other times we just have to move forward and take the next step regardless of whether or not we have a team cheering us on. Either way, I’m thankful for my faith because it means I’ll never go alone. Even when I’m literally alone on this physical earth, I still have the presence of Jesus and his Holy Spirit with me. I have relied more times than I know on the strength and hope that resides in Jesus. It’s not a ‘given’ that I’ll feel him with me, but it is a PROMISE that he’ll never leave me. That is the confidence I take with me into hard things. And with him, and through facing hard things repeatedly, I have grown in resilience and can face the next hard, big, and ‘right thing’.

I’ll leave you with this song from the movie Frozen 2 called ‘The Next Right Thing’. This song comes after Anna has apparently lost everything – her sister, her traveling buddy, and even her way. Yet, she rises up and puts one foot in front of the other because there’s still life and people out there. She still has an assignment or mission to the people she leads and those she cherishes. She will rise and move forward and with that, gain confidence in each step. May the Lord bless each of us to take the next steps with Him daily.

Adoption, God, My Story

Play. Pause. Resume Play…

brittanymputman

There I was, sitting in my car in the grocery store parking lot. Between stores I negotiated another decision about a possible adoption match. These calls come in at any time of the day. They interrupt the ‘regular programming’ to insert a highly stressful, yet highly anticipated and hopeful story arc to our daily narrative. This call happened over a year ago. No, I didn’t write about it then, nay, I couldn’t write about it. The current trajectory of our adoption journey was incredibly rocky and uncertain. Emotional pain stung my heart as I turned over and over how this road might play out as we transitioned to a new assignment in our lives. Would there be room for a baby now? If we had a newborn, how would we get the much needed rest before jumping into the deep end of moving across the country and starting a new ministry? But, if we waited until we moved to our new state, we’d have to start the adoption approval process all over. I felt tired and deflated. This wasn’t how I thought our adoption story would play out. 

So, December 2021, I sat in my van with the engine running and the heat turned up and took in all the adoption social worker was telling me. Dare I hope? Dare I dream? Dare I bring this option up with my ‘other half’? The opportunity sounded too perfect. An established mother who was surprised by this pregnancy and not really able to start from scratch with a newborn. Making an adoption plan made sense to her and maybe I’d be the adoption parent to her baby. If I said yes, and if she said yes, we’d have the baby in 2 months! We’d complete this phase of our adoption journey while still living in the state we’d been approved in and wouldn’t that just put a nice bow on things? Could this be it? Could this really be the long-awaited addition to our family? Or would this be taking things into my own hands and forcing the outcome that I wanted instead of waiting on God. 

You see, I could feel it. I felt that this wasn’t the time to bring a baby into our home. I even had an inkling that this wasn’t the baby for our family. The Lord was softly nudging my heart toward saying, ‘No’ to this opportunity. I didn’t want to hear that! I wanted to feel euphoric and have this amazing God-story about adoption NOW. I didn’t want to wait any longer. I wanted my dream fulfilled. All this wrestling happened inside of me while on the phone with the social worker, while I continued my errands and while I drove back home. I hated this. I knew that what I grasped for was not going to be had. This just wasn’t going to happen and I wouldn’t allow myself to force it either. So, I hesitantly shared this possible match with my husband. Perhaps, if he felt like it was a ‘Yes’ then I could move forward with the match! But, in my heart of hearts, I knew he’d also agree that it wasn’t the right moment to add a sweet addition to our family. Sure enough, that’s how it panned out. So, with sad resolution, I told our adoption social worker that we were going to pass on pursuing this adoption match. 

Letting go is so hard. Pausing a dream feels devastating because there’s often a bit of doubt that the process will never start up again. If I let go of this in-front-of-me opportunity, would I ever get another one? And then… the people pleaser inside of me kicked into high gear. (As an aside, can I just say that I’d get along much easier without this overactive part of me? It is something I have learned to continuously keep in check while making choices that affect me, my family, my friends, and ministry. Aside over.) The people pleaser reminded me of all the people who sowed into our adoption journey. It criticized me for things I had said in hopeful anticipation… Did I lead people on by accident? It shamed me for allowing others to help us before we even had a ‘bird in the hand’… I shouldn’t have accepted anything from anyone until I knew that this was a done deal… so much for faith, huh? It mocked me for thinking that God would come through on this dream in my time-table… Did I really think I’d be the ‘special’ one and have our adoption in less than the average time frame? Oh man! It was horrible! It still hurts as I write about it more than a year later. It hurts because my dream is on pause and I still have doubts that assail me – doubts that I diligently keep in check so that I can keep this dream alive in my heart. 

You guys, dreaming is hard stuff! Dreams are so often painted in a fairy-tale, gonna-get-what–you-want, never-gonna-be-hard-when-you’re-in-God’s-will type of picture. That’s NOT it. I’m living out a dream out right now and it’s not a perfect and easy process. I’ve cherished this dream since childhood, early adulthood and beginning motherhood. I’ve waited so long and yet, when it was finally time to open up that keepsake-dream, the waiting continued. My faith has been bumped and jostled. It’s been thrown around and stretched and squished and still, I can’t see the form it will be. What I pictured at the beginning is not what I’m currently experiencing. Dreaming is hard. Holding a dream is hard. Walking out a dream is hard. I’ve even heard that fulfilling a dream is hard.

So, what do I do? I could give up. I could toss that dream away like it was a mistake. I could close it back up in the box I took it out of. It could just be a pretty keepsake on the metaphorical shelves of my life. OR… I could push so hard into this dream that I take the reins from God. I could steer it wherever I think it should go and not give a second thought to His plan and process. Growth through this process? No, thank you. I’ll just short-cut the time and keep my stunted heart and mind, thank you very much. …. Yeah, neither of those sound like great options.

Now, we’re back to waiting. But not waiting just to wait. Waiting with a purpose. Growth? Yes! I will grow as I wait. I will learn as I wait. The Lord can teach and train my heart and mind so much… as… I… wait. Waiting is a part of God’s plan and process in all this. He really does know so much better than I, what I need before cherishing a new child in our home. The baby (a fulfilled dream) is out there and I don’t know where or when. But each step I take with my arms empty only gives me more opportunity for the Lord to temporarily place other things in them to love and cherish. Who knows? These other things very well might be the things that teach me exactly what I need so I am more than ready when this dream is fulfilled. 

http://www.flaticon.com

Waiting. Stewarding. Cherishing. Preparing. Learning. Growing. These words and more describe exactly where I’m at right now. Maybe this dream is on pause, or maybe, just maybe it’s still on PLAY. Some things I won’t know before the dream is here. What I do know is that I must keep hoping. I must keep believing (cue the sung phrase  ‘Don’t Stop Believing’). I must keep choosing Christ over all else, even over my dream. He is the only one who can keep my heart just where it needs to be as I prepare.

Presently, I’m still dreaming about adoption. It hasn’t been put back on the shelf. It’s not thrown out or hidden away. But, it is certainly changing form and shape from what I thought it’d be. Like a lump of clay on a potter’s wheel, this dream started out with the idea of a specific look, but it’s taking its own shape. I believe it will be better than I could ever think up on my own. I’ll keep following the Dream Giver and look forward with hopeful anticipation to the fulfillment of this dream. Until then, here I am… walking things out day by day.

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family, God, My Story

Describe Your Childhood…

brittanymputman

She looked at my husband and said, “Could you explain your childhood to me? Would you call it stable or unstable?” I knew I was next to answer this question. You see, we were in the middle of a psychological evaluation for becoming church planters. As I listened to my husband’s answer, my mind wandered to my own memories of childhood. How would I respond to this question? I knew there wasn’t a right or wrong answer, yet I felt the familiar pull towards a ‘right’ response. What was my childhood like? How would I describe it? Was my experience one of instability or was it stable?

My First Home

As an outsider looking in, my life looked quite unstable – 7 cities, 9 schools, 12 houses, all before graduating college! That’s a LOT of change. Initially we first moved because my dad changed careers and had to do some schooling out of state and then we moved to another state for the new job. This makes sense. People move for their careers all the time. I mean, we’re doing that. We are moving to a new house, a new city, even a new state because we feel like God’s asking us to take this leap and start something new. I can’t fault my parents for choosing to move us.

But then the unthinkable happened – well, the unthinkable for my young heart and mind. After some rocky circumstances, my parents divorced. It was tragic to my 10 year old heart and what was worse, it necessitated a change of living. Heading into 5th grade, I started my new life in a different house, city, and state than what I had become used to. New classmates became new friends, houses changed and stability started to settle in. I had a rhythm and was coming to terms with the changes in my life that I had no control over. I was joyful and thrilled to be making friends, attending a gymnastics school, and have a great church to attend.

Things were going well until mid-way through my second school year there and I had to move yet again. I wouldn’t know the reason for this move until I was older, but all I knew was that we were heading back once again to the place we had left. I was sad to leave my current home, but excited to be going back to a place that was connected with so many happy times in my early childhood. Perhaps I was most excited to be reunited with my dad and also with my best friend. Relationships are hard to come by and I was getting two of them back! However, one thing no one tells you when you’re 12 is that things aren’t probably going to be the same as they were a year and a half earlier. I found out that my friend had moved on and found a new best friend. I had to attend a completely different school district where I once again knew just about no one. My dad remarried by this time and so even time with him was drastically different. All the things I had known in this place were 100% different. It might as well have been moving to a brand new place. I was crushed. It was really hard to gain traction here, but I dug in my heels and worked to make those new friendships. I enrolled in dance classes and even though they weren’t my beloved gymnastics, they were a great way to use my excessive energy and have a load of fun in ballet and jazz dance. 

Later, I learned that the reason we moved back so quickly is because we didn’t know how long my dad had to live. He was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. This hit our family like a ton of bricks. What would this mean for Dad? What would it mean for me? Was my daddy going to die of cancer? Would he get really sick and be bald? Would he live to see my wedding? All these questions and more would lay low in the back of my mind for the remainder of his life. I didn’t know that the reason we moved was because his initial diagnosis gave him a short time left to live. Amazingly, Dad ended up living for many years more before he died from complications of cancer. Without knowing all this, we moved to be near my dad and get as much time with him as we could because we had no idea how long we’d have with him. This was a super weighty burden to carry as a pre-teen.

Not long after, things were starting to feel stable again. I had friendships with kids at school, friends with kids next door and in my church. I was singing, dancing, and playing trumpet whenever I had the chance. We had a cozy little home and I got a dog to call all my own. The new normal was just that, normal. I knew what to expect and could depend on it. Even Dad’s cancer wasn’t so scary any more and he was in a sort of ‘remission’ for the time being. Things were looking up.

Photos of me with my mom and dad.

Then the now-familiar transition was announced. We’d be moving once again. Unfortunately we had to move before our housing would be available and therefore transition in a nearby town for 1 month. During this month the school year started and I spent 2 weeks in a new school, surrounded by new friends, and a new schedule. Our transition home was sparse and just enough to get us by until we could move into our apartment. It was such a hard month. Even harder was leaving my 2-week old school for the next one.

I had barely got my schedule down when we moved to our apartment – another new house, new school, new bus, new classmates, new activities. Ever resilient (to moving) and outgoing, I quickly adjusted. This was a fun place with neat kids and I liked where we were living. We lived in a very international community, with incredibly kind neighbors. I quickly adapted and enjoyed my final year in middle school. Next stop, high school! Unfortunately, my middle school was the one that split between two high schools. I never interacted again with my friends who went to the other middle school. This was a loss for me, but I soldiered on. I stuck with the friends who transitioned along with me to our high school. 

Believe it or not, high school was a time of stability for me. Even though we moved two more times, I got to stay in one school, with the same pool of friends, and develop some of my core gifts in one place (mainly singing) for all four years. I held down a job that stuck with me into college and I attended a college that was down the street from my high school. Can we say, ‘searching for a non-changing life’? These were happy years for me and the highlight, besides choir, was my church youth group. This group of people; pastors, volunteers, and peers; remained steadfast, gracious, and encouraging while high school drama swarmed around me. I’m so thankful for the friend that invited me to her church and the youth group that embraced me, all of me, until it was time to head off to college.

Bethel University: CLC Circle

While in college, we moved once more, but I had a lot more ability to choose my own things now. I stayed at the same university for 4 years in the same major with great friends and classmates. I loved my time during these year and even met my husband. It truly felt like I came through what seemed like a very unstable childhood into a place of security and settledness. 

So, did I have a stable or unstable childhood? With so many changes and upheavals, many would answer, ‘Unstable’. And as I thought things through, I saw that too. But, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t the ultimate answer to this question. As I sat in my memories during our psych eval, I realized that through all the tumultuous upheavals in my life, something remained steadfast in me. Something was always there and never changing, only ever growing and deepening. This was my relationship with God. 

Indeed, it was God Himself who was the Constant. As a young child I asked Jesus to come into my heart and be the leader of my life. Through music, Bible reading, prayer, and relationships, I came to know him more and more. When we first moved to my new school, I knew that God would help me find friendly people to be around and that there’d be many new people to play with. When my family broke apart I needed God to be my Comforter. My heart was so sad for so long and He was the only one who I could truly tell my deepest sorrows and longings to. He listened and comforted me while I grieved, accepted, and healed from this new reality. When I was a child of a single parent and it was really hard to have all the things a child needs, I turned to God. It was Him who I saw as my Provider. When we needed something, we asked God and He provided it for us! Even when we didn’t know we needed things, He always came through. We saw His provision through a myriad of ways, but the ones that stuck with me the deepest were through the body of Christ. 

When I think back to times that should have thrust me into being ‘a statistic’ due to being a child of divorce, I wasn’t. When I think back to times that should have taken me out due to grief, I wasn’t. When I think back to times that should have caused me to abandon all security, safety, and stability, I didn’t. During this time, I came to know God as my constant provider, my good father, my closest friend, and the ONE I could rely on no matter what. God turned the tumultuous times of my life into a steady flow of His LOVE and GRACE. He was always gentle, friendly, and trustworthy as He guided my young heart through the challenges of childhood and into adulthood. Jesus was that FRIEND who sticks closer than a BROTHER and I found much stability in Him. It was God, not just my faith in Him, but God the person who was my STABILITY. He grounded me. So, I look back on my childhood as stable, not as unstable. My inner world was rocked, but not overturned. Because of God, I knew truth, security, safety, friendship, intimacy, love, grace, and so much more. 

Now was the moment. My turn had come to answer the interviewer. “Yeah, from the outside many would say that I had an unstable childhood, but inwardly I know that it was surprisingly STABLE. Let me tell you about it…” And that’s how I answered this very poignant question. 

…And in case you were wondering… yes, my dad did live to see my wedding and hold my first child. I’m ever so thankful for that.

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God, My Story

Singing through Transition

brittanymputman
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Here I am, sitting to write again. Today, I’m feeling ‘down.’ As I went about my daily chores, my feelings and thoughts seemed to come together and I found myself ‘writing’ another blog post in my mind while my hands were deep in dishwater. I find that I ‘write’ many posts while washing dishes, but, sadly, the mundane tasks of life seem to take precedence and by the time I’m done with one chore I have to move onto another task or the pressing urge to write has passed. Today, I tried to maintain that sense of wanting to write and now I’m here, trying to make space for it. 

The thing I find myself wrestling with today is transition… what else? That’s the phase of life I’ve seemed to be in over the past year or so. I find that even in the midst of a hopeful and exciting transition, there are still times when the changes become overwhelming. Today is one of those times. Creating new routines and trying out old routines in new spaces only to find that they have failed can be draining, exhausting, and discouraging. Have you ever felt that way? Well, if you have, you’re not alone! 

It’s really hard, making so many changes at once. You know, I’ve heard it said that moving is one of the most stressful things humans can experience. So, it makes sense that along with the joyful days of a positive relocation, there will also be times when I’m overcome with the challenges of navigating all this newness. New house, new city, new church, new friends, new etc…

Photo by Anete Lusina on Pexels.com

Often, I’ll find my mind searching for ways to alleviate the pain of the change. My mind flips through old files to see if there is anything that can help. I usually turn to music… music from my past. This music evokes the feelings and memories of when things were different, dare I say easier? Either way, this familiar music is like a warm embrace for my soul and my heart. It’s a soft blanket that soothes the stressful feelings and thoughts. Music reaches the depths of me in ways that words alone just can’t. What’s it that Hans Christian Andersen says? Oh yeah, “Where words fail, Music speaks.” This is so true in my life.

So, today, I chose to head way back to the 90s with Out of Eden’s first album, Lovin’ the Day. I can’t tell you how many times I have listened to this album over the years. I’m pretty sure every word, beat, and instrumental interlude is completely memorized. As I listened to the first song, “Lovely Day” I was struck by how accurate the intro lyrics were to my present feelings.

When troubles come my way, / I look to you and everything is okay. / When help seems to disappear, / I look to you and everything’s so clear. / When hard nights turn into hard days, / How I long to seek your face. / When blue skies turn to grey. / I look to you and then I know it’s gonna be a… / It’s gonna be a lovely day.

And as the song played on, I was carried away by the reminder that when everything seems like a hassle, like a problem, or even hopeless; then when we look to Him, to Jesus, we can trust and have faith that it WILL be a Lovely Day. I hope you’ll listen to the song below and have a very, truly, lovely day.

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Adoption, family, God, Kingdom, My Story

Life Update July 2021…What’s been going on?

brittanymputman

Wow, well… it’s been a while. A LOT  has happened since my last post. So much so, that I just had to put writing on hold for a while. Even now, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to get back to the consistent schedule I had before, but I do value having this space to write and share my life and thoughts. So, here’s the update!

After my February post about our adoption needs, we were so blessed to receive a large financial donation to help us get much closer to being fully funded for the adoption! Praise the Lord and thank you to the donor! We have heard very little about any matches since that time and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Of course, I DO WANT to move forward with this adoption journey, but as I look back over the past months, I can see how having a baby in the mix would have made something complicated even more complex! But, my dream of another baby or sibling set is still alive and well. Now that things are in the next stage (which I’ll write more about below), I find my thoughts drifting more towards adoption again. I find my readiness being reawakened. Maybe this is a good time, maybe it’s not, and maybe it doesn’t really matter whether or not it’s a ‘good-time’ as long as it’s a ‘God-time.’ So, we keep waiting. That’s the adoption update.

Well, let’s talk about the rest of what’s been going on. In short, we’ve moved to a new city. Yup… you read that right! About seven months ago, I shared how God was telling us that a job change was coming. We started to separate our focus from our previous employment to what God had already birthed and grew in Putty’s area of influence. But we didn’t know that another big shift was coming our way. As we worked through the process of where to place our focus and how all the complex details of that would work out, something just wasn’t right within us. It became clear that God was asking us to move out of the hometown we’d known since we graduated with our undergraduate degrees and look towards a new future. 

The trouble was that we still didn’t know WHAT exactly that future would be! We knew we had to keep taking the next step though. So, we notified the people who needed to know about this change in course and we started looking for the next landing place. Since we weren’t feeling called to any particular location, we decided to choose based on a few criteria, with two big ones standing out: 1) A good HUB airport for Putty to use for easier travel and 2) an area where we have a lot of ministry connections already. One place stood out above the rest and was still relatively close to our family… Chicago! So, we began making plans to move there. But we had no idea where to go in the sprawling metropolis. We weren’t sure what kind of housing we could afford, nor did we know where we’d eventually end up attending church. All we knew was that we were heading out to follow the Lord and this was the next step.

As we connected with a realtor who could help us find some rental housing, the reality of what we were about to do set in. She sent us many MLS pages of homes that were available for rent, but all of them made my heart hurt to even consider living in them. It was so rough. I didn’t like getting these emails and I just wasn’t connecting with any of the homes presented to us. I was keeping up a good front though. It’s easiest to do that when you just don’t acknowledge it. And that’s essentially what I did. I ignored the ‘finding future housing’ task and instead threw myself into preparing our home for sale and moving. However, I did have this fleeting thought at one point and I vocalized it to Putty. I said, “You know, I don’t care what house we live in next. I’d really like it if we could just be offered a place to live or at least take one for very cheap. I mean, maybe someone we know has a vacant house or even missionary housing! I just don’t want to go through the process of choosing a place when we probably won’t even be there long.’ 

Little did I know that this statement was actually a hearts-desire because the act of choosing was very hard for me. I chose the home we were living in at that time and we worked hard to make it a wonderful place for us to live and host people. We LOVED it. So, nothing could compare to what we were leaving. What criteria could I use to choose the next house except for letting it be God’s choice for us. With that said, I returned to my packing, donating, and cleaning up our current place. Whatever was next, we were going to leave this house in nice shape for the next owners and we weren’t going to bring along a lot of unnecessary stuff to our next resting spot. 

The time was drawing closer to when we’d be putting our house on the market. With one week to go, we still didn’t know exactly what next home we were heading towards. But, God was about to surprise us once again with his goodness, providence, and confirmation. It was the day our congregation was being notified of this new change to the status quo. With little more information to give them other than that we were following God to Chicago with no idea of what was coming next, we left a lot of questions unanswered (perhaps more of our own than anyone else’s). That was the day though, when God was giving us the next piece to our puzzle! 

Putty received a phone call from a friend in the Chicago area with a job proposition! It seems he needed to hire a new pastor, but wasn’t ready or able to make a permanent decision yet. He asked Putty if he’d be willing to take on an interim pastor position while we were in transition. We couldn’t believe it, but God was allowing us to live off of a salary during this transitional period, instead of the proceeds from the sale of our house! Not only that, but this church has a parsonage and we could live there as part of our compensation. And to ice the cake, it’s in a beautiful area and we already had a childhood friend who attended there too! We were blown away at this offer and although right away we were pretty sure that we’d accept the job, we did take some time to pray and discuss it before giving our final answer.

I admit it, I broke down in tears. I was so overwhelmed with how God was caring for our needs. Not only by helping us to stay afloat financially, but He heard my desire to have a house that I didn’t have to choose! He provided housing for me and my family. He provided a church for us to connect with while up here in Chicago. And, he provided existing friendships so we didn’t have to start from scratch. God is so good. He is so kind. He is thoughtful. He is steady and true. (You can read Putty’s perspective on our life update on his most recent blog post)

I’m so thankful we followed Him on this journey. Since my last blog, He has provided us with adoption money, gifts towards our next ministry, housing, a new job/salary, rekindled friendships, and stability. It’s these times that I will look at again and again and remember that God is good. If I doubt that we’re on the right trajectory as we transition, I look to His obvious provision and I see that He is leading us and making a way. We still are searching out the next things. We are following rabbit trails and seeking the LORD. Even though I don’t have an answer for my next stage in life… even though I can’t make a plan (which I LOVE to do!)… I know that my steps are directed by the Lord.

Thank You Note: Thank you to all of you who have generously given towards our adoption, our ministry, and our family. Thank you for believing in God’s calling on our lives and this next journey he has us on. We truly are so grateful for your support and enthusiasm as we step into our next season in ministry together!

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Bible, God, My Story

Secure and Insecure People

brittanymputman

“Being Secure Helps Others.” That was the title of that particular day’s devotional. But instead of focusing on the what the title said, my mind immediately turned it around. “Being Insecure Hurts Others.” My mind went back to the previous week when I had gone ‘off my rocker’ or so it seemed. 

The Weekend…

It was a hard week. The COVID restrictions were hitting my small business again and it felt bad. I was losing students and had so many cancelations or postponements come at me that week. I was able to hold out hope in all this until the last work day of my week when I lost yet another student. UGH! “What is going on?!” School closings, business closings, the holidays, quarantine, etc made the perfect combination for a very disappointing work week. I was so down that I got to that ‘stuck’ feeling again that I talked about in this post. I chose to force myself to do something to get through it because I still had to parent, cook, and relate to my family before the evening was done. 

Luckily, I found a way to practice my singing. I chose a sad French Song that talks about waking from a good dream and wishing to go back into it. After many run-throughs, I wanted to sing it like I was drawing others into the feeling too – performance time! So, I made a few recordings, some with my eldest daughter looking on. I was happy to share my ‘craft’ with her. It’s not often that my kids see what I studied after all. When all was said and done, I went from feeling very sad and despondent to a bit more normal again. I proceeded with the rest of my evening and enjoyed the time with my family. What I didn’t realize was that I was feeling a bit insecure about my work and our finances. I didn’t allow myself to did deeper and this weight joined the already heavy feelings of this year. … insecurity.

‘Apres un reve’ by Faure sung by Brittany Putman

But I hadn’t really went deeper with all this and it built on some things that had already been happening and which reared their ugly heads throughout the weekend. One of those was my husband’s new business. He and a friend are trying their hand at a new type of socializing over the internet and it’s taken a lot more time than originally anticipated. This has meant focus and energy away from us for an extended period of time. Of course, not all the time, but just enough that it started to feel like it was dragging on. When things take a long time to get realized (like our adoption dreams right now), it can feel really disheartening. He and the friend continued to chug away at this new venture, but these things just take time! 

Additionally, since we could only invite a few people to join us in BETA mode, I really hoped everyone would jump on the bandwagon and join us. Of course, some couldn’t because they didn’t have the necessary things in place, but others just weren’t interested. This really hurt my heart. Each time someone said, “No, not this time,” it was like I was taking it personally! I didn’t quite realize, unfortunately, and those repressed feelings began to grow. I just pushed them aside and thought, “Maybe next time.” But my heart was thinking, “Why won’t they just help us and rejoice with us?” Another weight added to my heart… another insecurity.

Putty and Andrew’s New Project: https://www.crowdwatch.app/ Feel free to ask us about it!

The hits kept coming in that particular weekend. Do you ever have times like these? I know it’s all part of the human condition, but we don’t ever want it to be part of our condition! Anyway, the next day my daughter came down with a cold. We were being careful to avoid situations where we might get sick because my husband would be preaching soon and needed to stay healthy (and COVID-free) in order to do that. I also didn’t want to cancel any lessons due to sick kids because I had a responsibility to my students, my husband, and my family to keep teaching. We’ve already had enough change-ups this season, I didn’t want anymore.

So, when my youngest got sick, I felt worried. I knew it was probably just a cold because of the other people that I knew who had it (and tested negative for COVID), but still, there’s always that feeling of wondering and worry. I worried that it would systematically go through us one by one and that my husband would get it just as he was going to preach. That would not be good. Who wants a sneezing and snotty preacher on stage in this time of Coronavirus? No one, that’s who. So, I pushed my feelings aside and focused on helping my little one feel comforted. I watched each of my other kids to see if they showed any signs of sickness too. Yet, I did not take time to really look at how I was feeling. I was insecure about sickness on so many levels. And so was added …. Another insecurity.

The Breaking Point…

Could we just be done now? Nope… the next day was coming and it held the final straw. My ‘back’ broke and it wasn’t pretty. We had to stay home from church that day. Well, the kids and I did anyway. After all, ya can’t take a sneezing kid to church right now, right? So, we tuned in to the Livestream. That was nice. It was a great service and we had a nice family time with online church. But something was bothering me. 

As a person whose husband works in the church, this tense season hasn’t been easy. After 10+ years of my husband working at our church, and over 15 years of attending that church, I’ve become a cheerleader for our church-team. Normally, this is great, but when you come to love something so much, any hurt against it can feel like a hurt against you too. 

To say this COVID time was been a challenge for the Church (at large) is an understatement. Do we meet or don’t we meet? Do we mask or don’t we mask? How do we help the greatest number of people during this time? Is any group of people falling through the cracks? How do we relate to our diverse congregation in regards to the racial incidents? How do we address the election in our politically diverse congregation? There is no one-size-fits-all approach. 

I haven’t been a part of the decision making in all of this and neither has my husband because of his change in responsibilities this summer, but let me tell you, I know it hasn’t been easy. I’ve witnessed the social media comments both for and against the leadership decisions of the church. I’ve read the fighting and arguing between my beloved church member friends. The divide has torn at me. No one alive today has had to make decisions in a time quite like this, and it’s just been plain hard. I tried complaining. I tried sympathizing. I tried a number of things to get over the feelings of pain that all this has brought to the surface in me, but it hasn’t resolved. Sometimes pain takes a while to resolve and that’s okay. But what I didn’t notice was the feeling of insecurity growing. It was triggered as I watched the Livestream of the service from home. I was feeling the insecurity of the unknown. What will church look like once we can meet together again in a regular fashion without worry of spreading a contagious disease? I just don’t know and so there was heaped on me … another insecurity.

I broke that day. While conversing with people dear to my heart, I felt that insecurity pricked – but I didn’t know that’s what it was. My feelings were triggered by some things that were said and instead of taking time to wait, feel, decide, and respond, I just reacted. My words tumbled out in a passive aggressive way – I’ll say something that sounds good, but really it’s a bit of a jab to you. I knew I shouldn’t be saying it while it was coming out, but I didn’t stop! As soon as I had said my piece, I immediately felt remorse. I knew that I should have waited. I knew that I wasn’t exhibiting love. I knew I had meant to hurt people. That’s not okay and so, I did the hard work of apologizing. I had good discussions about it with my dear people and things are good. I’m thankful they were quick to forgive. I don’t want to do that again.

“Being Insecure Hurts People.” I didn’t realize I had so many insecurities stacked up during this time. Even though I knew something was wrong, I hadn’t put this label on it. And yet, when I read that devotional title, before I even read the text of the devotion, God showed me the truth. I had had so much insecurity that I lashed out and hurt the people I loved! I hadn’t allowed God’s healing to penetrate my heart during each of these circumstances. The insecurities just came so fast, one after another and I didn’t have time to heal. I was insecure.

Becoming Secure…

But how do we become the “Secure People who Help Others” instead? From a counselor’s perspective (my counselor who told me this months earlier)… when we feel that things are insecure and unstable all around us, as is happening all over the world right now, we need to turn our focus and attention to the things that are stable and secure. We can do this by showing gratitude and regularly saying/writing out what is stable and secure at that moment. We can look to the things that are predictable – I will eat breakfast, lunch, dinner today. I will go to work, parent my children, wash the laundry, etc. We can focus on the ‘What Is’ instead of the ‘What If’ of our lives. And as one of our pastors said in her sermon, we can think of the ‘Even If’s.’

Finally, we can look up God’s promises about security in the Bible. And so, I’ll leave you with some Bible verses from Psalms and Proverbs to think on. I hope these will help you and me heal from all the insecurity that comes against us and help us to focus our eyes on the stability of Christ. Ultimately, I pray that we will all become ‘Secure People who Help Others.’

Creator: kalliantas 

Psalm 16:5 (NIV) LORD, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure.

Psalm 16:9 (NIV) Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will rest secure

Psalm 112:8 (NIV) Their hearts are secure, they will have no fear; in the end they will look in triumph on their foes.

Proverbs 14:26 (NIV) Whoever fears the LORD has a secure fortress, and for their children it will be a refuge.

The LORD reigns, he is robed in majesty; the LORD is robed in majesty and armed with strength; indeed, the world is established, firm and secure.

Psalm 93:1 (NIV)

God, My Story

Shamed if You Do, Shamed if You Don’t

brittanymputman

There’s nothing like shame to make you second guess yourself. Over the past year, it seems like everywhere I look I see shaming attitudes, comments, and actions. One person says or does something that another person doesn’t like and instead of just disagreeing and leaving it at that, shameful venom spews from their mouth against it. Then the hurt person either slinks away to lick wounds or retaliates in kind. I keep hoping this shame-fire will die back, but as soon as it starts to wane, more fuel is added and it sparks to life again. 

I have seen some real debate when both parties try to express their own views and it seems like they are listening to each other rather than combatting. But still, overall the nation seems to be in a shaming loop. I have felt that shame directed at me, directed at those I love, AND directed at those whose views I don’t agree with. It seems like whatever people do, or don’t do, they’ll be made an example of. 

This has been so hard for me personally because I dealt with shame for a good portion of my life. As an adult I have come to learn that even when shame is thrown at me from something outside of myself, I am the one who actually chooses if it gets to hook into me or not. As a child, I didn’t understand this and so attitudes and actions done to me resulted in intense shame for me. As I’ve matured, I can see how Satan is the one who really slings shame and who whispers in my ear and to my heart that I have to wear this shame. Knowing that, I can choose NOT to agree with it. And as a Christian, I have the added victory that Jesus’ blood cleared away all that shame, empowering me to walk in love and confidence. 

bible.com

But… because I am intimately acquainted with the feeling of shame, I sense it easily when it’s hanging around. I recognize when it’s trying to invade my thoughts and make me feel less than the person God made me to be. I want to share a few specific examples that have been heavy on my heart during this past year – Coronavirus response, Racial Incidents response, and the 2020 Election. It does scare me a little to share these thoughts because they are such hot button issues and I’ve stayed away from speaking about them publicly, but nonetheless, I want to express a few thoughts on them and the theme of shame I’ve seen running through them.

Coronavirus…

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It all started about a year ago when we heard reports about a new virus in China. Then we heard how it was affecting other countries and finally we got hit hard too. It seemed like most of the country closed down for a while and more and more health safety protocols/restrictions were put in place. Fear began to build until it was towering over our nation. Fear of sickness and death. Fear of lack of freedom and choice. Fear of hurting the common good AND the individual good. But which one is right? That’s the thing, I’m not sure there is just ‘one right thing’. And yet, the shaming began. If you go out unmasked in public… Shame on you! …If you require me to wear a mask…Shame on you! If you hold gatherings… Shame on you! …If you restrict my freedom to gather… Shame on you! And on and on it goes. 

It has become so shameful that contracting Coronavirus seems akin to getting an STD! If you got the virus early on, then people assumed you had done something wrong by disobeying the rules or being reckless. It was then assumed that you passed it on to so many people unknowingly that therefore, you were worthy to be shamed. And now, the virus is almost everywhere and if you get it, you could have picked it up at work (while following proper guidelines) or at gatherings (with or without recommended protocols). Yet, there has been enough shame around it that people still want to remain anonymous when they contract it. (Some, not all.) But how can people reach out to help others who are sick if they have no idea who is sick? How can people safely assess whether or not they themselves should take some extra precautions if they don’t know who it is that has been sick in their midst? My hope is that as this becomes more common, people will feel less shame and negative stigma around contracting it and feel free and clear to talk about their experience with the disease and get the help (can we say MealTrain!) from the community around them.

Racial Incidents…

We’ve had a number of racial incidents throughout all this time too. They have garnered an outcry from blacks, browns, whites, and so many others. Our nation aches with the injustice, anger, fear, and yes… shame from all this. I heard messages like… Talk to your friends of color and hear their stories of injustice to understand all this and if you don’t… Shame on you! …I’m so sick of white people asking me questions just because I’m black! Don’t talk to me about this and if you do… Shame on you! …You must speak out about these incidents because if you don’t…Shame on you! …You just spoke out about these incidents… Shame on you! And on and on it goes.

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In all this, I am feeling some similarities to when I’ve read books on transracial adoption. For the most part, many of these books are written from a positive and educational viewpoint. But, there are a few that are quite negative and carry a feeling on them that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. As I discussed the difference between my perceived feelings on different books with an African-American friend of mine, he cautioned me about what he called, ‘white-shaming.’ I hadn’t heard this term before. But as he explained it, a lightbulb went on. Some of the things said are not only to inform and educate, but also to toss a bit of shame onto the person thinking of transracially adopting. I didn’t realize! I suddenly could see what he was talking about and from then on, it was so easy to spot this sort of thing. Since then, I’ve seen it not only in books to the public, but also directly to me – from people of color AND also plenty of whites too. I’m so thankful for the people who speak and write about this topic that truly want to educate readers and help them along what is a difficult journey. These people write from a place of hope and care. 

Election…

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This has been the most watched and talked about election for me in my life-time. I know some will say that the election 4 years ago was just as big, but I wasn’t quite as mentally involved then, so I’m going to speak from my experience of this year. On top of the already very stressful time we’ve been having lately, we then are in the midst of a very chaotic election season and post-season. My heart breaks for the way our nation has divided so clearly. People who talk about their beliefs and ideals on either side of the ‘divide’ are being shamed back and forth. The messages are…You said a positive thing about this candidate (either one)… Shame on you! … You said a negative thing about this candidate (either one)… Shame on you! … You haven’t shown public support for this candidate (either one)… Shame on you! You have shown bipartisan support for both candidates… Shame on you! 

It seems like we don’t know how to be a nation that can hold strong ideals that disagree with one another, yet still be united. I read one politician who said, ‘Now that we’ve been divided, it’s time to be united.’ Yes, I agree, but why did we have to be so divided in the first place? Why do the politicians have to use shame in order to gather people to their side of the aisle? Left and Right I’ve heard and felt shame. I would like a leader who knows how to govern ALL PEOPLE with love and kindness. One who doesn’t have to shame and have their constituents join in the melee. We need peace in our nation and I just don’t see it. I know, I know… ‘But Brittany, it’s always been this way since the beginning of our country!’ True. But still, I can dream and hope for change can’t I?

But Hope…

So the shame in this country at this moment is at least 3-fold (virus, racial tension, election)  if not even more. We’ve been sitting under this shame for getting close to a year! How have we bared up under it? How have we dealt with the intense pressure to ‘get it all right’ in order to keep shame away? How are we monitoring our own hearts? Are we allowing the shame around us to attach itself to us? Are we struggling under the weight of the shame heaped on us? What are we choosing?

As I’ve looked in Bible to help me understand what God says about shame, I’ve found out that God does not put me to shame nor is His plan for me to live in shame. The bible says ‘No one who hopes in You will ever be put to shame. – Psalm 25:3b.’ and also ‘…hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. – Romans 5:5’ So, when I feel the claws of shame trying to hook themselves into me, I’ll pause and look to Jesus for the hope that will never put me to shame. Then that shame will not find a place to attach and I can move forward in life with my head held high.

I pray that we all experience renewed hope in our hearts today, in this moment. I pray that God’s love will be poured out even more into our hearts through the Holy Spirit and that we can use that to heal our areas of influence. I pray that we will know the Hope that does not put us to shame, but instead raises us up in God’s glory and power with confidence to take the next step in our lives. So, to all of us, let us choose HOPE!

God, My Story

Standing Stuck

brittanymputman

Stuck…

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I just stood at my kitchen counter, staring. I couldn’t figure out what I should be doing next. It was like I was immovable. I had no desire to do anything that would push forward the to-do list in my life nor did I have the energy to interact with my children and I couldn’t even find it in me sit and relax. It was as if everything came to a standstill and the only thing that made sense was to be in one spot without making any choices without having any interruptions and without having any expectations on me.

This is a weird state for me to be in. I’m the kind of person who always keeps going. I’m constantly go-go-going and do-do-doing. Even my times of rest and relaxation are still anchored in accomplishment – finishing reading a book or finishing a puzzle or something to that effect. Wasting time or being inactive is just not usual for me. But over the last few weeks this state of ‘being stuck’ has seemed to encroach on me more and more.

I know, some might say it looks like depression. And maybe there are some aspects of depression to it. After all, life as I’ve known it has changed drastically and I don’t have any promises that things will be back to ‘normal’ at any time. Some might say it’s decision fatigue and I’m sure that there’s plenty of that going on too. With every change that’s come my way, a myriad of decisions has had to be made as well. But when I think back about what my life has been like in the past few weeks and months preceding that, I can see that this is a state of heightened feelings of being overwhelmed. I push for as long as I can to do the things that I absolutely have to do and when those are done or when my energy runs out, I stop and it takes a while for me to regroup in order to do the next thing. Can any of you guys relate? I feel like I’ve been on a non-stop hamster wheel over the past year!

Assessing…

So what’s going on? It would be very easy to blame this on the pandemic and the pre- and post-election tension that’s all around, as well as all the other daily life stressors and obligations that come our way. But, I’m not sure that I want to use the excuse of blame in this situation. I don’t want to live in a place of blaming because when I do that, I don’t move towards resolving the issue at hand. When I live in a place of blaming I’m constantly looking back and constantly trying to find the reason for why things are the way they are so that I can shirk my responsibilities for making positive changes in my life.

Over the past few months, I haven’t been writing, I haven’t been singing, I haven’t been doing many things that move my life forward. I’ve been doing the bare essentials which include plenty of good things, but mostly those that maintain the status quo. Things like making sure my family is fed, clothed, and clean. Things like making sure my children are educated as well as the students in my voice studio. Things like maintaining a level of community and connection while still adhering to the standards of health and safety all around us. Things like maintaining the balance of my spiritual life and the feeling of peace and rest in our home.

But, under all of that, I feel that something is missing. I feel that something is askew. I feel like there’s something that is unresolved and unsettled. Something that is weighing on me in the background of my mind; in the background of my actions; in everything. And it is this thing that I need to discover so that I can move my life forward.

I suppose this ‘thing’ could be from the fact that I’m a feeler. It’s as if I can feel the general feelings of those around me and even the feelings on a broader scale (community groups, people groups, nationally, etc). Or maybe it’s something in the spiritual world. As a spiritual person, I believe that there is a spirit world all around that’s fighting for the influence of my being and my attention. or maybe it’s just plain fatigue. I’m a busy person who rarely takes a break unless forced into it somehow. Honestly, that isn’t very healthy.

Getting Unstuck…

So, how do I get ‘unstuck’? What are the things I do, or don’t do, that give me a jumpstart once again? I’ve let this question roll around in my mind for quite some time. I’ve been trying things out and hoping to find that balanced point again. It’s not been one simple answer, but rather a series of things that when put together, have really helped.

In no particular order, I started to try things out. I had to prepare some music for a lesson and so, I just started singing. This led to more singing and piano playing. That was just the bit of motivation I needed to jumpstart my own singing and playing for pleasure! When my kids heard me playing and singing, they’d come around me and join in – not all the time, but enough that my heart was warmed. Now, I know that music doesn’t ignite passion in everyone, but I do think there’s something that each of us is passionate about. It can be so hard to just have the activation energy to start something (read more on that in the book Flow by Csikszentmihalyi), but once we get going, we often feel the continuation of it uses much less energy than getting started.

I also made a renewed commitment to my devotional time. I had started to let my mind wander much more during my Bible time. I allowed distractions (Can we say… phone?) to interrupt me more regularly. I stopped journaling because I just ‘wasn’t feeling like it.’ All these things put together created decreasing returns in my quiet time with Jesus. So, I found some simple and easy prayer devotionals on YouVersion and I continued with my daily Bible reading. I grabbed my journal more frequently to write down how I was feeling, what I was thinking, and just generally trying to be in the moment and not lost in the past or the future. All these together have really helped to get me back on track with my Jesus time. I feel like the relationship is once again, moving! (not that God ever stops moving, but I sometimes do)

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Lastly, I began talking and walking again. Sometimes these happened together and sometimes separate. I need to talk to people about what’s going on inside my head. I need to be able to hear it out loud before I can assess whether or not what I’m thinking actually makes any sense! I admit it! I’m an external processor. My best times of thinking or talking are when I’m doing something. Things like doing a puzzle, cleaning, or taking a walk. Whether I’m out walking with someone or even just taking that time alone, it really helps to order my thoughts and reinvigorate my physical body with energy. If I can’t walk with a person, then I listen to a podcast. Somehow, hearing the rhythm of another voice helps me either focus in on what’s being said, or sends my mind onto a rabbit trail of its own. When I can go down the rabbit trails and sort through the tall grass, I often come out into a ‘clearing’ in my thinking. This is so beneficial for me and I can return to my family and my activities with a much more focused and clear mind. So, yeah… doing something physical is super helpful for me too.

As I reflect back from when I began this blog weeks, even months earlier, I see how much’ life’ has happened since then. I couldn’t finish it earlier because I didn’t have a solution. I was still stuck. I hoped that just writing it out would get me unstuck, but I was still very much in the midst of it. I didn’t realize it. I wanted to force my way out of it through one simple act – writing. But, I couldn’t. If I had I wouldn’t have been true to allowing myself to feel the feelings, wade through the muck, and eventually see some more forward motion. It was hard to wait and hard to be in that place, but I’m thankful God is always ready to take the next step with me. Even when I’m afraid of being stuck, He isn’t. Even when I’m too tired to be motivated, He patiently waits and speaks ideas into my heart and mind. He isn’t pushy and He’s not a push-over. I’m so incredibly thankful for my Lord. With His help, I’ll continue the cadence and flow of my life, one day at a time.

God, My Story

Whore

brittanymputman

Whore. That’s what she called me. I can remember the class I was in at the time. I remember the row of seats I was in. I remember the desk I sat in. And, I remember the look on her face when she turned her head towards me and called me a whore.

Welcome Back to School!…

It’s back to school time! Of course, this year school isn’t quite like it was in the past years due to the pandemic, but the social system probably changed much. The beginning of school is a time to get excited to see friends on a regular basis again. It’s a time to get out the crisp new school supplies and don freshly bought school clothes. That first day back, especially as a high schooler, is full of expectation for the year ahead, but also fraught with worry and anxiety over how we’ll be perceived. It’s an exciting day and also a terrifying one. 

I was no exception to this rule. Being an extrovert, I LOVED seeing so many people on a daily basis. I knew that going to school, especially choir, would get me my quota of hugs for the day! Having so many people surrounding me also gave me the chance to use up most of my words each day and thereby allowed me to give my family a break from what could have been (and sometimes was) constant talking. I really enjoyed the social part of school and the friendships and acquaintances I made there.

Since I was fairly personable, I didn’t really have people that outright didn’t like me. And the inverse was true too, I liked most people. I had the ability to see the good in people and the fun in people. I’d latch onto those things when interacting with them instead of the more negative hangups. This was great because I could easily interface with most people I came into contact with. It also came in handy with my many moves over my childhood. Actually, I bet it was part personality and in part, a learned survival skill! It was a lot easier to make friends when I wasn’t afraid to approach new and different people. 

Perception…

Well, apparently, not everyone thought well of me, as I alluded to in the opening paragraph. Every girl, I suspect, goes through the struggle of how to dress each day. What does this particular outfit say about me today? If I changed up my usual clothing style what would the reaction be? Would it be too obvious or would it go unnoticed? Do I need to really be concerned about what others think? Is it brave to just do what I want without thinking of how others perceive me? I swear, these thoughts were constant (and sometimes still are) when I was picking out my clothes from day to day. I had my go-to outfits, but one time, I decided to shift the status quo.

That particular day, I wanted to wear a dress. I had seen other girls wear dresses to school and it seemed cute and fun. I didn’t tend to spend a lot of money on clothes, so my selection was slim and not the most up-to-date styles. But one thing I definitely cared about was modesty. I always wanted to wear clothes that were attractive, but not ones that would draw unwanted or negative attention to myself. I didn’t wear deep cut shirts, mid-riffs, or too short pants/skirts. It was really important to me to honor myself and God with my clothing choices.

Me in my dress

Well, the day that I changed it up and wore a dress, I was unprepared for what was about to come my way. I knew I was choosing to wear something a little more dressed up than the usual jeans or khaki’s, but I didn’t expect that it would be noticed by people who weren’t in my inner circle of friends. I liked my dress and I felt good about myself by wearing something a bit ‘fancy’ to a regular ol’ day at school. Sure, I felt a bit tentative about the different look, but it was only for a day. So, I hung out with my friends and we talked about clothes and ate our lunches and went to class.

Chemistry and the Mean Girl…

Class. Yup, it was chemistry class. I don’t remember what happened before, but I do know how I felt afterwards. We came into class, probably talked with friends and got to our seat when the bell rang. Then it happened. What felt like an out-of-nowhere, unprovoked comment came from the girl in the next row a few seats up. She turned to me and called me a whore. I was seriously shocked. “WHAT?!? She couldn’t be talking to me. I’m nowhere near the definition of a whore. What was this all about? Why did she say that? Why was she being mean to me? I don’t even usually talk to her! Why was she saying this to me?”

I was so hurt, confused and ashamed. I don’t remember responding to her. She probably turned around right away and class began. I was left to wonder why this had just happened. Did I do something wrong? Why would anyone call me a whore? I was a devout Christian who regularly attended Sunday church, Sunday school, Wednesday night youth group, and morning Bible study/worship at school. In middle school I made a commitment to stay a virgin until my wedding night. I mean, I attended the True Love Waits conference and signed the card! I lived out this commitment and I thought it was pretty obvious that this was who I was – the good little Christian girl.

My True Love Waits Commitment Card

I could only deduce that my sudden change to dressing a bit fancier that day, which included a skirt that ended slightly above the knee and wearing strappy shoes prompted this uncalled for name calling. As an adult, I could say, ‘Maybe she was jealous. Maybe she was confused. Maybe she was having a bad day.’ But honestly, I really don’t know why she said it.

What I do know is the feelings it brought up in me. Along with being hurt, confused and ashamed, I was also angry and filled with self-doubt. These feelings stuck with me throughout the rest of the day and I’m sure I talked with my Mom about it that evening. There was no rhyme or reason to this mean-spirited speaking. It just was what it was. Luckily, the word ‘whore’ is so far from who I was and who I ever planned to be that I didn’t internalize it. I knew it wasn’t a label that would stick, but the sting of it did.

Do You Know Who You Are?…

You know, high school is a hard place to be. Middle school and elementary school are hard too! Even being out in public and on social media, we run into hard things. We get called names by people who don’t know who we are. We get teased, bullied, and misunderstood on any given day. I guess the question is, ‘Do we know who we are? Do we have an assurance of our identity? Do we know the road we are committed to following? Have we made up our minds to point our life towards something and continue on even when others question it or come against us?’ 

As I reflect on this story from my school days, I can see how my identity as a Christ-follower kept me stable when the winds shifted. I am thankful that as a child and teen, I could make my own choice to follow Jesus and His Word. I chose to be loving, kind, modest and moral. Because I made those choices for myself, when they were brought into question, I knew where I stood. I knew that wearing a dress and having someone call me a whore didn’t mean that I was heading down some dark life path. The word spoken to me didn’t overtake me. And this feels important to repeat.

The word spoken over me – ‘whore’ – didn’t overtake me. When I could have drowned in the misery of someone thinking so lowly of me, I knew where I stood. I knew the choice that I had made. I was a committed daughter of God and virgin for my future husband. When I could have worried that there was one person out there that didn’t think highly of me, I knew who did. Not only had God given me so many friends, happy acquaintances and good family around me, but I knew how God thought of me. I was His special creation, a masterpiece made to be just how I was and He was proud of me. He loved me. 

Do Your Friends Know Who You Are?…

You know, l knew that God didn’t think of me as a whore and I knew that my family didn’t think of me like that either. But, what about friends? Those are pretty important and special people in the lives of teens. At least, I thought so. For me, when I approached my friends with this story, they stood next to me and encouraged me. They knew that wasn’t who I was and they could reaffirm me when I was down and hurting. 

I’m so thankful that God gives us so many different types of relationships. We always need Him. But sometimes we need family and friends too. Even other times it’s enough to have a friendly acquaintance or the person passing by me at the store give some sort of positive affirmation of the person I am. These interactions help me remember who I am. And when I know who I am, I can walk forward with my head held high with quiet confidence that I am the person I am meant to be.

You know, perhaps the most surprising thing to tie this all together is a note I received from one of my friends (who didn’t have the same value for purity) towards the end of our high school career. It said,

‘I have always respected you as a classmate and a good friend, but one thing stands out that I really respect. I have always looked up to you for this fact, … you still have your virginity and your morals. … Your morals are pretty much exactly the same as when I first met you. I will even admit that you had a great impact on my life in more ways than one. And I would just like to say, thank you’

Labels. They impact us, but we get to choose which ones stick. We are in the driver’s seat of our lives, not our friends, not our family, not the random mean kids at school. We are. We make the choices that last. We choose our paths. When we know the power of choice, we realize how very special and important this is. We can let life happen to us, or we can choose the way we want life to happen. I’m so thankful for the mentors in my life who encouraged me to make choices that lasted. They truly empowered me to take control of my life and steer it where I wanted it to go. I knew my destination – virgin on my wedding day, and I wasn’t getting off of that road for anything!

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