Monday, May 23, 2011
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Through the Eyes of Children
Do you ever wonder how our children learn what to say and do in there lives? I feel they are always watching and listening and learning from the people they are around.
My grandchildren have been a huge part of my life and I pray they are picking up some of the lessons I have tried to teach them. This is a little story I have written about some of the life lessons we all need in our lives.
Through the Eyes of Children
My four-year-old excited granddaughter, Sophia, pulled me into her preschool class announcing, “Mrs. Bowman come quick and meet my grandma”. She had a sunny expression on her face and her two blonde ponytails bounced in the air as she jumped around. As the teacher approached, Sophia shouted aloud, “ This is my GRANDMA and she is all fired up!” Suddenly the teacher and I looked at each other with a puzzled look on our faces not understanding what she was talking about. I looked down at her little hand in mine and noticed she was looking at the burn scars I had on my arms. My husband and I had been burned up literally five years prior in a motor home accident and that is how she was introducing me to her teacher. I explained it to Mrs. Bowman, and I stood in pride of my granddaughter being proud of the difference in me.
I have four other grandchildren and they all look at our burn scars differently. They do not know us any other way. Our youngest granddaughter, Isabella, is the apple of her grandpa’s eye and baby, Mason, is rocked to sleep in the rocker that rocked his mother. One day we were all eating Sunday dinner together and our oldest grandson was sitting next to his grandpa. He was quiet as he put his hand on top of his granddad’s hand, which had four fingers, amputated from the fire. Sebastian had a serious look on his face and said, “Grandpa if you would take a nap everyday your fingers would grow back”. It was such a loving thought, and, of course, we all wished that were possible.
Our complete family totaling eleven moved together on a ranch five years ago, and I have been able to be with three of the grandchildren almost daily their entire life. With three generations living together, we are able to help each other and learn the old and new ways of life. I believe it is every mother and grandmother’s dream come true.
I did not know my grandparents, and my parents passed away when I was very young.
I had no role models to follow, but I knew what kind of parent and grandparent I wanted to be. Having the joy of the Lord in my life was my direction, so our days are filled with fun and laughter and song.
Because we have differences with our scars, I have tried to teach my grandchildren how to handle disfigurements or handicaps of any kind. I am always proud when they just go up to the person and treat them like they would anyone else, instead of standing back and starring or making a comment.
One day five year old Giovanna, and I went to lunch at Wendy’s. There was an obese woman that came and sat at the table beside us. As she passed by she noticed my pretty little granddaughter and said “”Hello”. Giovanna pressed close to me and did not answer.
I told her it was all right but also brought to her attention how pretty the lady was and that she had brilliant blue eyes. We must always look for the good in people I told her. Before I knew it she turned around at the table and looked at the lady and said, “ you have beautiful blue eyes”. The lady smiled and I noticed her whole countenance changed, and so did my granddaughter’s. As we left we talked about the warm fuzzy feeling she had inside because she treated someone that had a difference very special.
I can go on forever telling little stories, but the most wonderful thing in the world is being a grandparent. To hear each one call out each day, “GRANDMA”, as if they had not seen me for weeks. They always want to be with me, playing hide in seek in the tall mustard grass, and swimming in the pond on a warm sunny day. We ride up the mountain singing “You are my Sunshine” and at the end of the day they say “Grandma I Love You”. Life cannot be more wonderful.
My grandchildren have been a huge part of my life and I pray they are picking up some of the lessons I have tried to teach them. This is a little story I have written about some of the life lessons we all need in our lives.
Through the Eyes of Children
My four-year-old excited granddaughter, Sophia, pulled me into her preschool class announcing, “Mrs. Bowman come quick and meet my grandma”. She had a sunny expression on her face and her two blonde ponytails bounced in the air as she jumped around. As the teacher approached, Sophia shouted aloud, “ This is my GRANDMA and she is all fired up!” Suddenly the teacher and I looked at each other with a puzzled look on our faces not understanding what she was talking about. I looked down at her little hand in mine and noticed she was looking at the burn scars I had on my arms. My husband and I had been burned up literally five years prior in a motor home accident and that is how she was introducing me to her teacher. I explained it to Mrs. Bowman, and I stood in pride of my granddaughter being proud of the difference in me.
I have four other grandchildren and they all look at our burn scars differently. They do not know us any other way. Our youngest granddaughter, Isabella, is the apple of her grandpa’s eye and baby, Mason, is rocked to sleep in the rocker that rocked his mother. One day we were all eating Sunday dinner together and our oldest grandson was sitting next to his grandpa. He was quiet as he put his hand on top of his granddad’s hand, which had four fingers, amputated from the fire. Sebastian had a serious look on his face and said, “Grandpa if you would take a nap everyday your fingers would grow back”. It was such a loving thought, and, of course, we all wished that were possible.
Our complete family totaling eleven moved together on a ranch five years ago, and I have been able to be with three of the grandchildren almost daily their entire life. With three generations living together, we are able to help each other and learn the old and new ways of life. I believe it is every mother and grandmother’s dream come true.
I did not know my grandparents, and my parents passed away when I was very young.
I had no role models to follow, but I knew what kind of parent and grandparent I wanted to be. Having the joy of the Lord in my life was my direction, so our days are filled with fun and laughter and song.
Because we have differences with our scars, I have tried to teach my grandchildren how to handle disfigurements or handicaps of any kind. I am always proud when they just go up to the person and treat them like they would anyone else, instead of standing back and starring or making a comment.
One day five year old Giovanna, and I went to lunch at Wendy’s. There was an obese woman that came and sat at the table beside us. As she passed by she noticed my pretty little granddaughter and said “”Hello”. Giovanna pressed close to me and did not answer.
I told her it was all right but also brought to her attention how pretty the lady was and that she had brilliant blue eyes. We must always look for the good in people I told her. Before I knew it she turned around at the table and looked at the lady and said, “ you have beautiful blue eyes”. The lady smiled and I noticed her whole countenance changed, and so did my granddaughter’s. As we left we talked about the warm fuzzy feeling she had inside because she treated someone that had a difference very special.
I can go on forever telling little stories, but the most wonderful thing in the world is being a grandparent. To hear each one call out each day, “GRANDMA”, as if they had not seen me for weeks. They always want to be with me, playing hide in seek in the tall mustard grass, and swimming in the pond on a warm sunny day. We ride up the mountain singing “You are my Sunshine” and at the end of the day they say “Grandma I Love You”. Life cannot be more wonderful.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Freedom Hats
FREEDOM HATS
A few years ago my granddaughters took a class in knitting and immediately came home to tell me “Grandma you need to learn, “I calmly could hear myself say to them, “When I get old and sit around I will learn.”
Right after Christmas 2009 I sat and watched as my friend was making knitted hats for her boys with this little gadget called the Kniffy Knitter. I have been a seamstress for years and I knew I could do that quickly and it wouldn’t take forever, it seemed knitting took along time to finish. You would say I am a bit impatient. As I watched her quickly make a hat in a couple of hours it sparked my interest. Maybe this is not too bad after all!
After going and purchasing this knitter with yarn in hand I began. First, of course all my family members had hats and scarf’s to match. Then I found that Save the Children Organization needed hats for children in Africa. Before I knew it I was addicted, each time I was sitting down, in a meeting, watching T.V. or whatever, I was knitting. It relaxed me and gave me purpose knowing I was helping someone somewhere. With myself and several other ladies we filled a box with 140 hats to send off within a few months.
I tried to stop after that, but I could not do it! I had to continue. I have three baskets where the hats go when I finish each one.
In August 2009 I was preparing to go to our annual World Burn Congress for Burn Survivors. As I was getting my stuff together I looked over at the hats. “Hey,” I said to myself, “I can take
the hats and sell them to burn survivors for the Phoenix Society.”After getting permission the hats and I were off to New York City for our event. I quickly put them out on the Phoenix table
with a sign saying $10.00 donation and went onto my first session. I don’t remember how many hats there were, at least 30, but when I checked later that night most of the ladies hats were gone. At the end of the evening one of my longtime friends came up to me with tears in her eyes. She held me close and said “Thank you for the hat, I have not felt this free in along time.” As I looked at her pretty face I realized she was not wearing her wig but in place was a pretty hat with a flower on it. For the next few days there were many women coming up and thanking me for the hats. I never imagined that my addiction would make such a difference in
so many lives. I know that God has a purpose for all things..
Not long after I returned home I received an e-mail from my friend in SC that has replaced her wig with the hats. She runs a burn foundation and has reported that the Freedom Hats were a hit! “ Oh my Gosh”, I said to myself, “the Hats have a name”.
I pray that every Freedom Hat I make finds a home on a special head that needs warmth and Comfort, and will set them free, and brighten up their day!
Many Freedom Hats have been delivered to burn centers. They are being used in
Sacramento at the Shriner’s for children with tissue expanders in there little heads. Hopefully, they will bring a bit of happiness to an otherwise sad situation.
As long as there is a need I will continue to make Freedom Hats. I am a burn survivor and a family member of a burned husband, and I know personally every step of a burn injury. It is along journey with many adjustments to make along the way. These hats are a token of my love.
By: Susan Lugli
A few years ago my granddaughters took a class in knitting and immediately came home to tell me “Grandma you need to learn, “I calmly could hear myself say to them, “When I get old and sit around I will learn.”
Right after Christmas 2009 I sat and watched as my friend was making knitted hats for her boys with this little gadget called the Kniffy Knitter. I have been a seamstress for years and I knew I could do that quickly and it wouldn’t take forever, it seemed knitting took along time to finish. You would say I am a bit impatient. As I watched her quickly make a hat in a couple of hours it sparked my interest. Maybe this is not too bad after all!
After going and purchasing this knitter with yarn in hand I began. First, of course all my family members had hats and scarf’s to match. Then I found that Save the Children Organization needed hats for children in Africa. Before I knew it I was addicted, each time I was sitting down, in a meeting, watching T.V. or whatever, I was knitting. It relaxed me and gave me purpose knowing I was helping someone somewhere. With myself and several other ladies we filled a box with 140 hats to send off within a few months.
I tried to stop after that, but I could not do it! I had to continue. I have three baskets where the hats go when I finish each one.
In August 2009 I was preparing to go to our annual World Burn Congress for Burn Survivors. As I was getting my stuff together I looked over at the hats. “Hey,” I said to myself, “I can take
the hats and sell them to burn survivors for the Phoenix Society.”After getting permission the hats and I were off to New York City for our event. I quickly put them out on the Phoenix table
with a sign saying $10.00 donation and went onto my first session. I don’t remember how many hats there were, at least 30, but when I checked later that night most of the ladies hats were gone. At the end of the evening one of my longtime friends came up to me with tears in her eyes. She held me close and said “Thank you for the hat, I have not felt this free in along time.” As I looked at her pretty face I realized she was not wearing her wig but in place was a pretty hat with a flower on it. For the next few days there were many women coming up and thanking me for the hats. I never imagined that my addiction would make such a difference in
so many lives. I know that God has a purpose for all things..
Not long after I returned home I received an e-mail from my friend in SC that has replaced her wig with the hats. She runs a burn foundation and has reported that the Freedom Hats were a hit! “ Oh my Gosh”, I said to myself, “the Hats have a name”.
I pray that every Freedom Hat I make finds a home on a special head that needs warmth and Comfort, and will set them free, and brighten up their day!
Many Freedom Hats have been delivered to burn centers. They are being used in
Sacramento at the Shriner’s for children with tissue expanders in there little heads. Hopefully, they will bring a bit of happiness to an otherwise sad situation.
As long as there is a need I will continue to make Freedom Hats. I am a burn survivor and a family member of a burned husband, and I know personally every step of a burn injury. It is along journey with many adjustments to make along the way. These hats are a token of my love.
By: Susan Lugli
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Little Church on the Ranch
One of my favorite times in my life has been having church in a building on our ranch. Many of you remember all the fun we had at the ranch...here is a story I wrote about it, and hopefully, it will bring some memories back for you!
Little Church on the Ranch
Our Pastor son returned from a mission’s trip to India. He announced that the Lord has told him to start a new church here in our valley. As we all know when God speaks we listen!! At the time he was working as a youth pastor at a local church and we were all enjoying having the youth at our ranch paint balling, having retreats, and other great activities. Now, with God’s word in his head it was time for a change.
We had just finished putting up a huge Quonset hut and built a room attached in the front of it to resemble a old western hotel. As the family stood admiring the two story building you could almost see the horses tied to the railings and hear laughter coming from within. Beside it was an old tin building that had a false front and a sign saying “Well Fargo Bank” and another with “Black Smith”. Right in front of that building was a covered wagon. On the other side of the Old Hotel is the Bunk House with a sign that says, “Grandchildren Welcomed”. With our little western town complete it was time to now decide what to do with the Old Hotel. My husband said, “It will be perfect place to display my old cars”. Our daughter that loves Karaoke and dancing said, “What a great dance hall”. Our son stood tall and said,” It is God’s House, the new Church. Guess who won?
The little church on the ranch began. We met every Friday night at 7:00 and people from all different churches came from all the communities in the valley. At first it was a few then grew rapidly to about 50-60. The local casino donated there old bingo chairs that supplied each person with comfort even though they were pink, we appreciated them. I made sure the building was clean and the brownies and lemonade were made. Our son preached most nights and our daughter in love led worship. We had several others playing drums and guitars.
I remember one night when my son had a special speaker from out of town come in. He and his wife stayed in the bunk house for the weekend. Henry loved my German Shepard named Max and he was his best friend. I’ll never forget the look on my son’s face when Henry told him that he would not preach unless Max was right next to him up front. You see my children did not partially like the animals in the building. Somehow they always came in, like it or not!
It was wonderful! I would sit and watch older ladies sitting holding and petting cats that wondered in, and big dogs laying sleeping on the floor. You could see the sun set through the big window and hear horses whining out in the pasture. Several times a bird or two would get caught flying around in the big Quonset hut.
This little church continued for a year or so until we out grew it and moved to town. It was lovely seeing all denominations together in unity on common ground. I believe the ranch was a place we all could meet and not feel guilty about Sunday morning church. It was a place to go and be with other Christians and share the love of the Lord.
The main element was always there, Jesus never missed a Friday night.
Little Church on the Ranch
Our Pastor son returned from a mission’s trip to India. He announced that the Lord has told him to start a new church here in our valley. As we all know when God speaks we listen!! At the time he was working as a youth pastor at a local church and we were all enjoying having the youth at our ranch paint balling, having retreats, and other great activities. Now, with God’s word in his head it was time for a change.
We had just finished putting up a huge Quonset hut and built a room attached in the front of it to resemble a old western hotel. As the family stood admiring the two story building you could almost see the horses tied to the railings and hear laughter coming from within. Beside it was an old tin building that had a false front and a sign saying “Well Fargo Bank” and another with “Black Smith”. Right in front of that building was a covered wagon. On the other side of the Old Hotel is the Bunk House with a sign that says, “Grandchildren Welcomed”. With our little western town complete it was time to now decide what to do with the Old Hotel. My husband said, “It will be perfect place to display my old cars”. Our daughter that loves Karaoke and dancing said, “What a great dance hall”. Our son stood tall and said,” It is God’s House, the new Church. Guess who won?
The little church on the ranch began. We met every Friday night at 7:00 and people from all different churches came from all the communities in the valley. At first it was a few then grew rapidly to about 50-60. The local casino donated there old bingo chairs that supplied each person with comfort even though they were pink, we appreciated them. I made sure the building was clean and the brownies and lemonade were made. Our son preached most nights and our daughter in love led worship. We had several others playing drums and guitars.
I remember one night when my son had a special speaker from out of town come in. He and his wife stayed in the bunk house for the weekend. Henry loved my German Shepard named Max and he was his best friend. I’ll never forget the look on my son’s face when Henry told him that he would not preach unless Max was right next to him up front. You see my children did not partially like the animals in the building. Somehow they always came in, like it or not!
It was wonderful! I would sit and watch older ladies sitting holding and petting cats that wondered in, and big dogs laying sleeping on the floor. You could see the sun set through the big window and hear horses whining out in the pasture. Several times a bird or two would get caught flying around in the big Quonset hut.
This little church continued for a year or so until we out grew it and moved to town. It was lovely seeing all denominations together in unity on common ground. I believe the ranch was a place we all could meet and not feel guilty about Sunday morning church. It was a place to go and be with other Christians and share the love of the Lord.
The main element was always there, Jesus never missed a Friday night.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Memories of the past
Do any of you think back on when you started doing certain things, I mean like habits? As I was conducting a song called "I Dreamed a Dream" the other day from my living room I said to myself, "Why do you do that"?
I remember being in the seventh grade at Indianola Junior High School. I loved to sing so I took a music class and the extra thing they taught us was how to conduct.
All of our arms went up in the air and we followed our teacher in the motion, down, to the side, down, up and again. He counted, one, two, three, and four. Every time I heard a song I would practice over and over again. I loved it, and felt the music in the pit of my stomach, which made my arms move even faster. I never forgot that class and all I learned.
Just the other day I started thinking about that memory. Even after fifty some years I am still conducting music each time I can feel it in my stomach. When a singer like Josh Groham and Susan Boyle start to sing my arms go up in the air as if I am in the same room with them. I seem to do my conducting no matter where I am at.
I simply close my eyes and feel the music through my waving arms. Not long ago my husband gave me an iPod for my birthday. I started wondering how I would look with my ear buds in, sitting on an airplane singing out loud, and conducting all at the same time. Oh my, what will people think! I might even get my iPod taken away.
During the years of raising my children and other people's children they recall many a car trip with one hand on the steering wheel and the other conducting music.
Not long ago when my youngest grandson was sitting in the back seat all strapped into his car seat I looked in the rear view mirror. I felt so proud to see this little fellow with both arms up in the air moving back and forth with the music. "Would you look at that", I thought, "he might carry the tradition on" and the music will never end.
I remember being in the seventh grade at Indianola Junior High School. I loved to sing so I took a music class and the extra thing they taught us was how to conduct.
All of our arms went up in the air and we followed our teacher in the motion, down, to the side, down, up and again. He counted, one, two, three, and four. Every time I heard a song I would practice over and over again. I loved it, and felt the music in the pit of my stomach, which made my arms move even faster. I never forgot that class and all I learned.
Just the other day I started thinking about that memory. Even after fifty some years I am still conducting music each time I can feel it in my stomach. When a singer like Josh Groham and Susan Boyle start to sing my arms go up in the air as if I am in the same room with them. I seem to do my conducting no matter where I am at.
I simply close my eyes and feel the music through my waving arms. Not long ago my husband gave me an iPod for my birthday. I started wondering how I would look with my ear buds in, sitting on an airplane singing out loud, and conducting all at the same time. Oh my, what will people think! I might even get my iPod taken away.
During the years of raising my children and other people's children they recall many a car trip with one hand on the steering wheel and the other conducting music.
Not long ago when my youngest grandson was sitting in the back seat all strapped into his car seat I looked in the rear view mirror. I felt so proud to see this little fellow with both arms up in the air moving back and forth with the music. "Would you look at that", I thought, "he might carry the tradition on" and the music will never end.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
"Where to Look, What to Say"
This is a short story I recently wrote about an issue that most of us have. Do any of you have a problem looking at or knowing what to say to someone that has a difference? Hopefully, this story can enlighten you.
Where to Look, What to Say
Not long ago I was sitting next to a small delicate woman that was so proud of her age she started the conversation by saying this is my 80th birthday. We were sitting together at the theater watching the Jersey Boys. This lovely sweet lady was from New Zealand and her family was celebrating in NYC.
As we chatted I asked her “Where are you staying? At the Sheraton Hotel” she answered. “My group and I are staying there as well”, I explained. She then went on to ask me if I had seen the large group of people staying there that had many deformities and scars. “Oh,” I proudly said, “ I am with that group”. I then gently put my hand on hers and explained that we are a group of burn survivors that meet once a year. There were 900 attendees which was the largest group to ever attend.
She then went on to say, “I want to say something to them and I don’t want to look away” but “I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO LOOK OR WHAT TO SAY”.
Many times I hear people say the same thing. Anyone that has a difference, and that can mean a wheelchair, obesity, and disfigurements. I am part of a special group of people that have differences. I am a burn survivor. The fortunate thing about me is that I can cover up my scars. I don’t choose to hide because I am very proud of what I went through to just be alive.
{My hidden burns as well as my outgoing and friendly nature allow uninjured people to freely inquire about what it is to be a burn survivor, what it was like to be burned, how it is to live with the scars, how our life has changed and what happened. Letting others know that we are just human beings, like them, even though we look different that there is nothing to fear from talking to us, looking at our scars or being near us.}
Luckily our group is in the minority but it gives us a large platform to inform others about burn injury.
My new friend asked so many questions and sincerely wanted to learn what to do when she was around someone with a difference and I was honored to share some tips with her.
During the intermission time we talked about where to look. So many times we are told “the eyes are the windows to our soul”. I believe that is true, but I fine that is the first place to look whether someone has a difference or not. It seems to me it is an instant connection. Look into the persons eyes and just say “Hello”. I went on to say, most of us would rather have someone ask us about our injury than stare and turn away. At lease I would. I introduced her to my husband sitting on the other side of me. He lost the left side of his face in our accident and the fingers on his left hand. I had her practice shaking his hand, looking in his eyes and saying “Hello”.
By the end of the performance we had hugged goodbye shared addresses and we went in different directions to our hotel. As soon as I arrived back many of my burned friends were in the lobby laughing and talking and of course I joined in. Not long after,, I see my new little theater friend walking towards me calling out my name. Immediately, I thought, this is perfect she can practice some more. I introduced her to many of my friends and she talked and laughed with us for an hour or so.
How many of us feel uncomfortable around people that are not like us? I know for many years I did until I was the one that was different. After our accident I felt invisible. Everyone that looked at me turned away or made comments. At first I was bandaged and in a wheelchair with a body brace on. Then I had to wear a what they call a Jobst Garment for two years for my burns. It has been a long difficult journey but one of the most rewarding experience of my life.
Please remember, none of us ask to be different, so the next time you see someone, please look in their eyes, smile and say “Hello”.
Where to Look, What to Say
Not long ago I was sitting next to a small delicate woman that was so proud of her age she started the conversation by saying this is my 80th birthday. We were sitting together at the theater watching the Jersey Boys. This lovely sweet lady was from New Zealand and her family was celebrating in NYC.
As we chatted I asked her “Where are you staying? At the Sheraton Hotel” she answered. “My group and I are staying there as well”, I explained. She then went on to ask me if I had seen the large group of people staying there that had many deformities and scars. “Oh,” I proudly said, “ I am with that group”. I then gently put my hand on hers and explained that we are a group of burn survivors that meet once a year. There were 900 attendees which was the largest group to ever attend.
She then went on to say, “I want to say something to them and I don’t want to look away” but “I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO LOOK OR WHAT TO SAY”.
Many times I hear people say the same thing. Anyone that has a difference, and that can mean a wheelchair, obesity, and disfigurements. I am part of a special group of people that have differences. I am a burn survivor. The fortunate thing about me is that I can cover up my scars. I don’t choose to hide because I am very proud of what I went through to just be alive.
{My hidden burns as well as my outgoing and friendly nature allow uninjured people to freely inquire about what it is to be a burn survivor, what it was like to be burned, how it is to live with the scars, how our life has changed and what happened. Letting others know that we are just human beings, like them, even though we look different that there is nothing to fear from talking to us, looking at our scars or being near us.}
Luckily our group is in the minority but it gives us a large platform to inform others about burn injury.
My new friend asked so many questions and sincerely wanted to learn what to do when she was around someone with a difference and I was honored to share some tips with her.
During the intermission time we talked about where to look. So many times we are told “the eyes are the windows to our soul”. I believe that is true, but I fine that is the first place to look whether someone has a difference or not. It seems to me it is an instant connection. Look into the persons eyes and just say “Hello”. I went on to say, most of us would rather have someone ask us about our injury than stare and turn away. At lease I would. I introduced her to my husband sitting on the other side of me. He lost the left side of his face in our accident and the fingers on his left hand. I had her practice shaking his hand, looking in his eyes and saying “Hello”.
By the end of the performance we had hugged goodbye shared addresses and we went in different directions to our hotel. As soon as I arrived back many of my burned friends were in the lobby laughing and talking and of course I joined in. Not long after,, I see my new little theater friend walking towards me calling out my name. Immediately, I thought, this is perfect she can practice some more. I introduced her to many of my friends and she talked and laughed with us for an hour or so.
How many of us feel uncomfortable around people that are not like us? I know for many years I did until I was the one that was different. After our accident I felt invisible. Everyone that looked at me turned away or made comments. At first I was bandaged and in a wheelchair with a body brace on. Then I had to wear a what they call a Jobst Garment for two years for my burns. It has been a long difficult journey but one of the most rewarding experience of my life.
Please remember, none of us ask to be different, so the next time you see someone, please look in their eyes, smile and say “Hello”.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Identity
Webster’s definition for “identity” says, “The condition of fact of being a certain person or thing and recognizable as such”.
It took me many years to realize who the real Susan was. Remember the old series on T.V. where they would say, “Will the real Susan stand up”? Now, I am sixty years old and I am thinking back at my life and wondering what takes us so long to figure it all out?
When I was 8 years old the last thing my mother said to me as she was dying was, “Susan be a good little girl”. It was not until recently that I realized how those six little words have formed my life. Note the importance of words. With those came acceptance from others that would care for me. As long as I was a happy good girl everything was going to be all right.
I grew into a woman believing that I needed to make everyone happy; and if they were not, it was because I was not good enough. I remember going to a Christian woman’s retreat in my late 20’s or early 30’s. It was like a light bulb went off in my head. I could hear the speaker say, “Are you a God pleaser or a people-pleaser?” My life at that time seemed to be falling apart; my husband did not seem to be happy and always wanted more. Our son always seemed out of control and my daughter suffered with depression. What was going on? I tried to be the best I could be. Where was my Hallmark family? As a child I would laugh a lot and be silly and have fun. Now I was afraid my husband would not like me that way, and want to leave me.
I will never forget the evening I had some friends over for dinner. They had only been with the kids and me, and this was the first time they were meeting Rusty. Through the evening my friend’s husband kept asking me if something wrong. Even late into the night after we went to bed, he called and asked once again. I did not think something was wrong with me, until the following morning when he once again appeared on the porch. He said, I was someone totally different with my husband around. Could I have changed so much in those first ten years of marriage, just to try to make someone else happy. How can one recapture his or her own self after working so hard to please someone else?
Not having a mother as a role model, I decided to use the Proverbs 31 woman as my guide. I studied her and soon started to realize how independent and secure she seemed to be. Those were the two characteristics I needed to work on in myself. My faith started to grow, and I kept hearing the speaker say, “Are you a God pleaser or a People pleaser”.
I had grown up being a people pleaser, and now I needed to find a balance in my life.
I stopped volunteering for everything to make people like me. If I did not receive joy from doing it I stopped. The word says, it will please God if I serve with joy, if not I will be doing it for the wrong reason. So, no more hot-dog lady at the school five years in a row.
My own Identity really blossomed after my twenty-fifth anniversary. My husband announced that he wanted a divorce and that he was not happy. I had feared those words for so long. I had been with him since I was 15, and now I was 44 living on my own for the first time in my life. Our children were grown, and on their own, and now I was too. It was difficult; but my faith was strong, and I knew God had a plan for my life.
After the first few months I started realizing how positive, happy and relieved I seemed to be. I had given up all hope that the marriage could ever be saved. I was no longer worried about making someone else happy, and finally woke up to the fact that we are only responsible for making our own happiness. WOW, what a discovery!!!
It was then THE REAL SUSAN COULD STAND UP! She was back after all those years, and she even liked who she was, and others did too. Remember, that husband? He even liked the new Susan and wanted to work on the very broken marriage. It took months of counseling and a lot of renewing of trust, but GOD DID IT..
It is constant work to keep our own identity. So far all is well, but I need to keep reminding myself in each new stage.
Recently, we have moved to a family ranch where all ten of us live together in separate houses. I am proud to say our son and his wife pastor a church here in our town. Awhile back I started becoming aware of some haunting feelings. I did not know what they were until I went back to visit our friends in our old neighborhood. When I lived there before, I was a total individual with my own work and identity. Now, on our ranch we all have the same interests and friends; and my children are my spiritual leaders and pastor. I find I try to be myself, but recently I get worried that I will embarrass, or dissatisfy them. I want them to be happy just as I tried to make my husband happy.
OH MY GOSH, I can’t let this happen again. You see how easy it can be to slip back into your old way of life. I have worked very hard to be the woman God has formed me to be, and He is the only one I want to PLEASE.
Do words like “Be a good little girl” haunt you? Have they become curses that constantly conjure up that your worth is determined by what you DO instead of WHO YOU ARE?
Does this make you be a people-pleaser rather than a God-pleaser? You are the only one that knows.
It took me many years to realize who the real Susan was. Remember the old series on T.V. where they would say, “Will the real Susan stand up”? Now, I am sixty years old and I am thinking back at my life and wondering what takes us so long to figure it all out?
When I was 8 years old the last thing my mother said to me as she was dying was, “Susan be a good little girl”. It was not until recently that I realized how those six little words have formed my life. Note the importance of words. With those came acceptance from others that would care for me. As long as I was a happy good girl everything was going to be all right.
I grew into a woman believing that I needed to make everyone happy; and if they were not, it was because I was not good enough. I remember going to a Christian woman’s retreat in my late 20’s or early 30’s. It was like a light bulb went off in my head. I could hear the speaker say, “Are you a God pleaser or a people-pleaser?” My life at that time seemed to be falling apart; my husband did not seem to be happy and always wanted more. Our son always seemed out of control and my daughter suffered with depression. What was going on? I tried to be the best I could be. Where was my Hallmark family? As a child I would laugh a lot and be silly and have fun. Now I was afraid my husband would not like me that way, and want to leave me.
I will never forget the evening I had some friends over for dinner. They had only been with the kids and me, and this was the first time they were meeting Rusty. Through the evening my friend’s husband kept asking me if something wrong. Even late into the night after we went to bed, he called and asked once again. I did not think something was wrong with me, until the following morning when he once again appeared on the porch. He said, I was someone totally different with my husband around. Could I have changed so much in those first ten years of marriage, just to try to make someone else happy. How can one recapture his or her own self after working so hard to please someone else?
Not having a mother as a role model, I decided to use the Proverbs 31 woman as my guide. I studied her and soon started to realize how independent and secure she seemed to be. Those were the two characteristics I needed to work on in myself. My faith started to grow, and I kept hearing the speaker say, “Are you a God pleaser or a People pleaser”.
I had grown up being a people pleaser, and now I needed to find a balance in my life.
I stopped volunteering for everything to make people like me. If I did not receive joy from doing it I stopped. The word says, it will please God if I serve with joy, if not I will be doing it for the wrong reason. So, no more hot-dog lady at the school five years in a row.
My own Identity really blossomed after my twenty-fifth anniversary. My husband announced that he wanted a divorce and that he was not happy. I had feared those words for so long. I had been with him since I was 15, and now I was 44 living on my own for the first time in my life. Our children were grown, and on their own, and now I was too. It was difficult; but my faith was strong, and I knew God had a plan for my life.
After the first few months I started realizing how positive, happy and relieved I seemed to be. I had given up all hope that the marriage could ever be saved. I was no longer worried about making someone else happy, and finally woke up to the fact that we are only responsible for making our own happiness. WOW, what a discovery!!!
It was then THE REAL SUSAN COULD STAND UP! She was back after all those years, and she even liked who she was, and others did too. Remember, that husband? He even liked the new Susan and wanted to work on the very broken marriage. It took months of counseling and a lot of renewing of trust, but GOD DID IT..
It is constant work to keep our own identity. So far all is well, but I need to keep reminding myself in each new stage.
Recently, we have moved to a family ranch where all ten of us live together in separate houses. I am proud to say our son and his wife pastor a church here in our town. Awhile back I started becoming aware of some haunting feelings. I did not know what they were until I went back to visit our friends in our old neighborhood. When I lived there before, I was a total individual with my own work and identity. Now, on our ranch we all have the same interests and friends; and my children are my spiritual leaders and pastor. I find I try to be myself, but recently I get worried that I will embarrass, or dissatisfy them. I want them to be happy just as I tried to make my husband happy.
OH MY GOSH, I can’t let this happen again. You see how easy it can be to slip back into your old way of life. I have worked very hard to be the woman God has formed me to be, and He is the only one I want to PLEASE.
Do words like “Be a good little girl” haunt you? Have they become curses that constantly conjure up that your worth is determined by what you DO instead of WHO YOU ARE?
Does this make you be a people-pleaser rather than a God-pleaser? You are the only one that knows.
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