To Be Like Christ

At a time when we are supposed to be focusing on being grateful for the things we have, I find myself being filled with much discouragement. As I try to move forward in my life I am being bombarded with judgments of my character and accusations of being unChristlike. The whole situation is a bit ironic. The people who are claiming that I am unChristlike are the very ones who are gossiping openly in public areas where others can hear them and pass the information on to me. People pass judgment about me and talk behind my back, never even checking if their information is true. But all this has me thinking and pondering about what it means to be Christlike. How is that even defined?

My guess is that some could define Christlike as letting people live however they want and just accepting them for who they are. I guess Christlike could be defined as letting people walk all over you and never standing up for yourself because the Bible says to “turn the other cheek.” Christlike to some people may even mean that you never require punishment of another’s unrighteous behavior because we are required to forgive all men. If I was truly forgiving then I would forget all that another person did to me and act like none of it ever happened.

Is this truly what “Christlike” means???

I don’t believe that it is.

If we honestly look at the life of the Savior as recorded in the New Testament we will see a being who was not afraid to call a spade a spade. Yes, he loved everyone, regardless of their background or sin. But he also called everyone to repentance. To the woman caught in adultery he said, “Go and sin no more.” He didn’t say, “You can keep living in sin. That’s okay. I love you anyway.” No! He let her know her worth and invited her to become better than she had been. He loved her but he told her that she had to change! In order to receive all the blessings that God has for us we must change!

Another great example that Jesus set for us was when he cleansed the temple from the moneychangers. The people were wrong in what they were doing and so he did whatever it took to send the message that what they were doing was sinful and that they should not continue that practice. He was very clear that their behavior was an abomination and must stop. He didn’t passively sit by and say, “They will face their judgment in the next life so I don’t need to do anything about it now.” No! He saw their sin and immediately put an end to it! How else would they know they must change? How could they correct their lives before their judgment if they were never told that they were sinning?

Some other things that Jesus taught by example were that when people are hungry you feed them, when people are hurt you heal them, when people are mourning you cry with them, when people are scared you pray for them, and many other great things. One thing often overlooked is that when Jesus needed a break he went to the mountains and took time for himself. He found ways to nourish himself. He prayed often. He fasted. He studied the scriptures. Above all, he sought the will of his Father.

So to me, being Christlike means that I understand what is right and wrong in God’s eyes, not in my own. To be Christlike means that I take a stand and not let sin go unchecked. To be Christlike means to see the great worth in each person and to invite them to change and live up to their potential. To be Christlike means to look out for other people’s needs and to make sure to take care of my own needs.

Am I Christlike all the time? No. But I am striving to be. No one knows what goes on inside of me other than God. No one other than God knows the thoughts and intents of my heart unless they ask me. No one other than God knows how extremely painful it is every single day to be me. No one other than God has the knowledge or the right to judge me because no one other than God has all of the information. I will do my best each and every day to follow the example of the Savior and my hope is that during this season of increased love and caring that people will stop the judging and study up on what it really means to be Christlike.

Why I Write

One of the first things I was told when I chose to leave my marriage was to “keep quiet” and “don’t make a scene.” I followed this counsel very strictly for a long time. I felt such a need to “keep the peace” and “not make waves.” But there was something inside of me that was telling me that this was not okay. Sweeping my experience under the carpet has been the most common reaction when I have tried to share what I went through.

So I ask myself this question, “Why do I feel the need to share my experience? Why don’t I just ‘move on’ and forget that any of the abuse ever happened?” This question has been very dominant in my mind for quite some time. There are two main reasons that I have come up with.

When I was still trying to make the decision to leave the abuse, I was faced with the challenge of how to truly leave. I had no resources and needed assurance of my children’s and my safety. I was given the option of moving into a shelter for people escaping domestic violence. At the time I still couldn’t clearly see what I was experiencing and felt that I didn’t belong in a domestic violence shelter. Those shelters were for women who were physically beaten, had been hospitalized, or their abuser was in jail. I didn’t fit in with them. I was “just” verbally and psychologically abused, or at least that was all I could admit to at that moment.

One day, while trying to decide what to do, I was pleading with God to know what was right. How could I protect my children? How could I save my family? What was I supposed to do? I felt that I needed to use the services of the shelter, which caused much crying and pleading with the Lord. I don’t belong there! How can I justify going there? How could I admit to what I have been experiencing in such a humiliating way? When it really came down to it, if I went to the shelter I would be admitting to myself that what I had experienced was real. After years of minimalizing the abuse I would finally be coming out of the dark and admitting to the truth of my life. I just wasn’t sure that I felt strong enough to do that.

While pleading with God at that time, I saw a scene in my mind’s eye. The scene was of me teaching at the shelter. I didn’t know what I was teaching, but I knew that the reason the women were listening to me and benefiting from my class was because they knew that I had been where they were. They knew that I was speaking from experience. I could help them because I got help and learned from my experience. At that moment I knew that God had a mission for me. He wanted me to heal and then help others who were in a similar situation to what I had experienced. That is the first reason that I have chosen to write this blog.

The second reason I have chosen to write about my experiences is a little bit harder to put into words. In order to explain it, I need to explain a little about my philosophy of why we are here on this earth living this life.

I grew up being taught that this life is a test and that we were here to see if we could “pass the test” and make it back to God. I have always struggled with this way of thinking. I don’t like tests. They make me uncomfortable and stressed. After much study and prayer I have come up with a different way of thinking. In the end, it is basically the same concept but worded differently.

I believe that we all have the potential, through the atonement of Christ, to become like God. I believe He is literally the father of our spirits and that He wants for us to become our greatest potential. This life is a time for us to find and work through all of our weaknesses so that we can be our best selves. Every part of our personality that is not god-like needs to be worked through and either changed or eliminated from our being. We cannot be like God if we are caught up in the ways of the natural man. Our purpose in being here is to overcome our weaknesses and the natural man that is within each of us.

Truly looking at ourselves means not sweeping things under the carpet. One of the biggest problems with domestic violence is that, more often than not, it is hidden, pushed aside, not talked about. And when people choose to talk about it they are harshly judged even though they were the victim of the abuse. I’m not saying that we should be broadcasting the details of our personal lives, but we should be able to get help, find hope, and be given an opportunity to heal.

I write so that people will know what domestic violence looks like so they will give themselves permission to seek help. I have no intention of seeking revenge on my ex-husband. I do not write to shame him, hurt him, or hurt his chances of having a new life. My writing has nothing to do with him. My writing has to do with me processing my pain and showing others that there is hope for a better life and that they don’t have to hide. It is okay to honestly look at a relationship and see it for what it is. How else will anything ever change? If we keep hiding the truth of what is happening behind closed doors then we will never be able to stop the cycle of abuse.

This month is about raising awareness. That is what I’m seeking to do. While living in the abuse I couldn’t see clearly what was happening. Now that I am out of it I am horrified by what I lived through. We don’t have to live our lives in fear! We don’t have to live our lives in pain! There is hope! There are organizations and people who can help us! We must stop this cycle of domestic violence and abuse! And the only way to do that is to talk about it.

That is why I write.

Domestic Violence Awareness Month

The life I had dreamed of was suddenly in view

A husband, a house, children in the future

I changed my life, I changed my name

I chose to step into a new world with him

But something wasn’t quite right

It started with little things

Comparing me to his mother and to woman in the media

I couldn’t do anything right

“Why aren’t you like other women?’ I was asked repeatedly

Embarrassed, I began to withdraw

I withdrew from my friends, my family, my self

I didn’t want anyone to know I was a failure as a wife

The world saw my happy face while inside I was crying

His anger got worse all the time

Always angry, always volatile, always someone else’s fault

Living in fear, trying to keep the children from setting him off

Whatever it takes to keep him from getting angry

Hiding the children from the public eye while bruises healed

Trying to be whatever he wants in order to protect myself

Slowly, the woman I once was died more and more each day

Depression, regret, pain, grief, sadness

All a part of daily life

But still putting on a happy face to the world

No one can know

But people do know

Some people recognize the signs and try to reach out

I defend him, justify his behavior, attempt to squash the idea that my marriage isn’t ideal

While inside I’m screaming for help, wishing someone would rescue me

Praying for death but afraid of leaving the children with him

Wanting to leave but feeling that it would be impossible

How could I possibly take care of my family on my own?

What would my church think of me if I left?

My children needed their father, needed a two parent home

I couldn’t break the covenant of marriage

It wasn’t really that bad

But it was

I was living in a nightmare and felt there was no way to wake up

Maybe if I prayed harder, maybe I just needed more faith

If I just read my scriptures more and prayed more than things would change

But they didn’t

I got in trouble for how much time I spent on those things

Everything I did and tried was turned against me

I searched and searched for a reason to stay until that day finally came

The day when the fear and pain of staying finally became worse than the fear and pain of leaving

I literally thought that I would die if I left

But I was already dying while staying

I couldn’t do it for even one more day

I couldn’t witness my children’s abuse for another moment

So we left

I didn’t want to make him angry

I didn’t want to hurt his chances to change and have a future

Mostly I feared making him angry

So I only told people who had to know what was going on

I kept quiet as much as possible about the why’s of leaving

Many people judged me

I lost many friends

My circle of support was extremely small

But it was enough

The hardest thing I ever did was leave my marriage

I thought I left because I was weak

I was so embarrassed

But I soon came to know that I left because I was strong

I chose to protect my family

I chose to stand up for myself

With very little support I was able to walk away from abuse and choose a new life

And it didn’t take long to find a new support system that was stronger than I had had before

Nothing in this situation is easy

Nothing is ideal

Every single day is a challenge

But it is so much better than the life of abuse we use to live each day

Now my children and I can become who we want to become

Now we can live without the fear

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month

One in four women experience domestic violence in their life

They don’t choose domestic violence

They don’t choose abuse

And most don’t know how to get out

If you or someone you know is caught in the vicious cycle of abuse, please get help

thehotline.org is an excellence resource to turn to

Their 24/7 hotline is 1-800-799-7233

There is life after domestic violence

Life can become worth living once again

Hermit Life

When I was about 19 or 20 years old, I had a whirlwind relationship that became very difficult to get over. At the time, I was living with my parents in Utah but they had an old cabin in Alaska that my dad was remodeling for them to move into at some point. I needed to get out of town so my parents agreed that I could go live in their cabin for a month.

The cabin was secluded on a little lake. There were people that lived on the other side of the lake but they couldn’t really be seen. The cabin was small, two stories, and in rough shape. There was electricity to the downstairs but no heat other than a wood stove. There was no telephone hooked up or cell phone service in the area. This cabin was totally secluded and I would be in a position where the only human interaction I would have would be if I chose to leave the cabin and seek it out. My brother and his family lived only a couple miles away so I could be around people anytime I desired them.

My time there was very quiet and peaceful. I would get up, chop wood, build a fire, eat, meditate, walk around the lake and woods, and whatever else I felt like doing. There was no one demanding my time and no expectations of me. I was living the hermit life and loving every minute of it.

One day I realized that it had been three days since I had heard the sound of my own voice. I was startled by that realization and tried to remember what my voice sounded like. I decided that I had better talk so I didn’t forget how. From then on I sang and talked to myself off and on throughout the day. One day I drove the ten miles into town to go to the grocery store just so I could be around other people. Towards the end of my time there I began spending more time at my brother’s house and found my interactions with them felt so much more meaningful than before.

When the end of my month approached, I realized that I had a decision to make. I was very happy there in that cabin living as a hermit. I felt that I could continue to live like that for a very long time. So I meditated, prayed, and questioned. Should I just stay there in that remote cabin in Alaska or should I return to the real world and take on life again? This was a very difficult question! As I pondered what I should do, the thought came to me, “You can stay here and continue to live like this, but what good would you be? How would you be contributing to the world?”

That thought hit me hard. I looked back on the last month and realized that there was something missing from my experience. I felt rejuvenated, refreshed, and healed, but I didn’t feel any fulfillment. I had no purpose. I knew right then that I had to get back on the plane and go back to Utah.

Nothing about my time living as a hermit was bad or wrong. In fact it was very healthy and good for me. It gave me time to heal. It gave me a chance to be renewed. But the time came when I needed to leave that cabin and go contribute to the world.

These last couple of months I have felt that, symbolically speaking, I have been living in that cabin once again. I have withdrawn from many people and circumstances. I have sought the hermit life. But the other week the thought came into my mind, “You can continue to live like this, but what good are you?” So I have decided to venture out of the cabin and engage in the world once again. I have decided to live rather than survive. There are so many incredible people in the world and so many amazing experiences waiting to be had. All it takes is to step out of the symbolic cabin of my mind and choose to live.

Alaska

Have you ever experienced such incredible joy that your complete body and soul is overcome to the point of tears and weakness of physical strength? I never had until this week. The first time it happened was when my mom, my children, and myself were driving from Anchorage, Alaska down to my hometown of Homer. I had not been to Alaska in fourteen years.

That last time I was in Alaska was very significant to me. My purpose in being there was to help my dad pack up his and my mom’s cabin and drive down the Alcan (Alaska Canada Highway) to move them to Washington State. That meant that I would have no more family in Homer where I had lived from age six to seventeen. Also, while helping pack, I had a very distinct impression that I needed to prepare myself because I would be moving soon. Several weeks after returning from my trip I was proposed to and several months later was married, spiraling me down a path of almost completely losing myself and my identity.

The last couple of years have been spent trying to repair the damage received and experienced during that marriage. I have prayed, searched, and pleaded to find my true self. I have changed my name in order to be set free from the bondage and control. I have attempted to find my dimples that only show while smiling.

A few months ago I was informed that my original high school class would be having their twenty year high school reunion this July. I didn’t actually graduate with that class but had attended school with them for most of my schooling. I was invited by one of my old classmates to attend the reunion but didn’t think there would be any way possible for me to attend. My sister found out about the reunion and secretly started a fundraiser to help me and my children to make the trip. Once I found out about it I had to make plans to go because people had donated money for that cause and I would feel guilty using that money for anything else. Being overwhelmed by the thought of traveling alone with four children I asked my mom to come with us. She gladly accepted my invitation and we got our tickets.

Alaska has always been a place of healing for me. The air is so pure, the land such a high vibration. It just feels so good to be there. When people say, “Go to your happy place,” I always picture Alaska. More specifically, I picture the view driving into Homer. I hoped that by returning, I would be able to connect to that healing space and remember who I am.

This week we finally were able to make the trip. As we drove out of Anchorage I was flooded with happy memories and overcome by the beauty of the land and sea. Looking out the window I became so overwhelmed by joy that I began to weep quietly. We stopped at many places that I remember visiting as a kid and continued to experience those feelings of awe and joy. The mountains and water soothed my soul and calmed my spirit.

When we finally reached the lookout above Homer, looking out at Kachemak Bay, I felt that I was finally home. I wanted to drink in everything in sight, making it a permanent part of who I am. Words cannot describe adequately the feelings I experienced.

The next day we spent walking on the beach, letting the children gather seashells and rocks and splash in the water. The weather was perfect! That evening I left my children with my mom and went to my high school reunion. I spent several hours talking to people who I hadn’t seen in twenty years! People who didn’t know me during my marriage. People who still thought of me as the basketball playing, book reading, Darling girl (my maiden name is Darling). I had so much fun!

After the reunion, I drove around town a little bit, thinking and pondering. It was nearly midnight but still light. I stopped by Beluga lake where we used to ice skate in the winter and walked to the water’s edge. There was an indescribable feeling inside that caused me to think that God had something to say to me. I quietly meditated and prayed. The thought came into my mind, “I love you, Amy. I love you for who you are.” I silently asked if maybe I should move back here, since I felt so good being here. The thought came, “You can live wherever you desire. I will love and accept you. I do have a work for you, if you choose. You get to choose.” I knew right away that I needed to return back to Indiana. Being in Homer, Alaska was a wonderful and great thing. I could recharge my soul and enjoy every minute of my trip. In the end, I had a life and a mission to help others on their healing path.

I am so grateful for the opportunity to visit my hometown. I am so grateful to all the people who made it possible for me to make this trip. I am so grateful to God for being patient with me and giving me what I need, when I truly need it. This life may be challenging and difficult, but there is so much beauty to enjoy and joy to be had. And that joy can be strong enough to bring happy tears and weaken the physical body. Thank you, God, for this amazing world and a life to live!

Mudstash

For the last two years I have used the month of July as a special month for celebrating my freedom to choose my own life and become who I desire to be. As part of that process I had posted daily thoughts about something I learned about myself or an opinion I have had. This year I will not be doing daily posts. I am still dedicated to continuing to learn about and express myself but will doing it in a different way. Today I would like to share an event that I look forward to every year that has become my annual celebration of being free.

When I was approaching my one year anniversary of escaping my abusive marriage, I wanted to do something to truly celebrate my freedom. In my younger years I had been very athletic and adventurous. Throughout my marriage I had become extremely out of shape and unhealthy. As I talked with my family about doing something to celebrate my new life, my brother-in-law asked if I had ever heard of the Mudstash, an obstacle course through the mud at the local ski slope. I laughed at him, considering my state of physical health. He insisted that it would be a great thing for me to do. “The old Amy would have jumped at the chance to do this,” he pushed. Even though I have never been a runner, an obstacle course through the mud certainly was something I would have done in my younger years. And it was something my ex-husband would have never allowed me to do. The thought intrigued me. ;)

I looked into the Mudstash but decided that I would need to spend the next year getting in shape and then participate in it. My son, who was eight at the time, heard us talking about it and immediately wanted to do it. There are two courses offered at the Mudstash; the full course was over four miles and the mini was a mile and a half. My son kept insisting that we should do it. They didn’t allow kids under ten to do the full so we would have to do the mini. A mile and a half seemed doable. I finally was convinced to sign up. My then nine year old daughter decided she should do it, too. We were able to find a great friend to agree to come along as my daughter’s running companion and I would stay with my son.

The day came at the end of May in 2013. It was only in the low 50’s outside and it felt cold. My brother-in-law and his youngest daughter came along as well and the six of us were so excited for this adventure. The path was very challenging. There were times that I didn’t think I would be able to keep up with my son and times when I had to keep him motivated to move forward. We took our time and ended up muddy, exhausted, and cold. But the overall feeling we all had was of fulfillment, excitement, and being very proud of ourselves and each other. We made it! Even though my son felt that he would never cross the finish line, he begged to do it again the next year.

Doing the Mudstash made me feel a joy that I had forgotten existed. I was on a high from accomplishing such a course. I knew that this would become a yearly tradition for me.

In 2014, my two older children and I once again decided to do the mini. We did it in September this time, hoping for a warmer experience. The weather was great and this time I kept both kids with me so that we could do it together. We had a wonderful experience, crawling through the mud, climbing over obstacles, sliding down hillsides, trudging through mudholes. We enjoyed each other’s company and built our struggling relationships. It was so rewarding and enjoyable.

In May of 2015 we had our next Mudstash experience. My father, who lives on the other side of the country, said he wanted to come out and do the Mudstash with my family and my sister’s family. We were excited to share this experience with him so decided to make a super big deal out of him coming. In secret, we invited all of our siblings (there are seven of us kids total) from all over the country to come out here to Indiana to surprise my parents. It had been seven years since we had last all been together. We somehow managed to keep the whole thing a secret and arranged a special meeting where I would bring all my siblings to a room where my sister had our parents waiting. The joy was overwhelming as my family was together once again.

The next day after we all got together was the Mudstash. There were fifteen of us running it together. We had t-shirts printed that said, “The family that stashes together lasts forever.” This time we did the full course. We took our time, staying together and making sure everyone was having a good time. There was one point, at the zipline, where we stayed for about thirty minutes doing the zipline over and over again until our arms were so tired we could hardly lift them. We laughed, struggled, had a few injuries, and pushed forward through it all, until we all crossed the finish line. It was one of the best experiences of my life.

This year ended up different for me. The previous three years were about completing the course with my family but this year my children were not with me the weekend of the race and my nieces and nephews were busy with other things. For a moment I wondered if I should skip this year but immediately knew that I couldn’t. I knew that in the past that Safe Passage, the domestic violence shelter that had helped me out, had had a team for the Mudstash. I contacted them and asked if I could join their team. They welcomed me with open arms. The race was a few weeks ago in early June. I went to the site by myself and had time to contemplate the significance of this race.

The main sponsor of the Mudstash is Anytime Fitness. They have started hosting a party the night before the Mudstash called, “The Bash Before the Stash.” All the proceeds from that Bash are donated to Safe Passage. This year I would be running the race with staff from Safe Passage. As I looked back over the last four years since I first entered Safe Passage I was filled with so much gratitude. I could see so much growth and change. I went from being a terrified victim to someone who speaks out against domestic violence and who teaches women at the shelter how to cope with their stress and trauma. This year was truly a celebration of my freedom.

There were ten people on our team. We ended up splitting up so the people that wanted to go faster wouldn’t be held back. I stayed with the slower group, helping make sure that everyone felt encouraged and was able to make it to the end. It was a very special experience for me. I was so much stronger physically this year than I have ever been. I was able to do obstacles that I had to pass by last year. I couldn’t do it all, by I could do so much more. I felt so good about my progress and how far I have come. And crossing the finish line with those amazing women was the greatest feeling ever!

Some people might look at my pictures and think it is all just a silly race, but to me, the Mudstash is about breaking free of control and abuse. It is about pushing through, no matter how challenging the experience is. It is about realizing that I can do anything I set my mind to. The Mudstash is about the freedom to become the true me. Thank you Anytime Fitness and Perfect North Slopes for giving me a way to celebrate my freedom! Thank you for helping me to celebrate me!

Massacre

I have been overwhelmed by the amount of hate being spewed the last few days as a result of the massacre that took place at a Florida gay bar. The hate, I feel, has been greatly misdirected. When I first heard the news about the massacre I was shocked that such an event had taken place, not because of it being at a gay bar, but because of it happening in America.

As I told my children about the event I literally cried because of the horror that I felt. The horror of this happening in my country. The horror of this happening to innocent people who were out having a good time. The horror of having to tell young minds that this is happening in the world they are growing up in. I felt so much pain for all those who were at the bar. I hurt for the lives lost, for the lives of those who lived, and for the family and friends of everyone involved. This massacre didn’t just happen to “gays.” This massacre happened to America.

As people search for someone or something to blame I find myself searching deeper than that. I ask myself, what happens in a person’s life to lead them to such actions? How could a person be capable of taking another’s life? I know that in this particular case the man had pledged himself to ISIS, but regardless of what a person has been taught or how they have been raised, every single person has to make a choice as to how they are going to live their life and how they are going to respond to the stresses they encounter.

I, like everyone else, have gone through some incredibly awful life experiences. I have been given reasons over and over again to hate, to be mean, to be bitter. As I felt myself being swallowed up in the depths of Hell I had a choice to make. Was I going to let the experience control me? Or was I going to choose to become a better person because of what happened to me? I will be completely honest, it could have easily been me going out on a killing spree. I think that many people, if they really looked at themselves, would have to admit that there is a part of them that is capable of such horror. So why do most people move on and not give in? Why do some people plot and plan and do such atrocious things?

A healthy person is designed to take the stresses of life and process them, letting them go and not allowing the stress to control them. But the majority of people are not emotionally healthy. Our society teaches us to bury our feelings and only show what is “socially acceptable.” We are supposed to be “fine” when asked how we are. We are not honest with our fellow beings and we are not honest with ourselves. I’m not suggesting that we should be negative and tell all our woes to everyone we encounter. I am suggesting that we need to acknowledge our true feelings in a healthy way and release them instead of burying or allowing them to fester.

Instead of attacking each other we should be looking for ways to process our grief. Instead of looking for someone to blame we should be looking for ways to help each other. It doesn’t matter if a person is gay or straight, black or white, rich or poor. We are all children of God on a journey to improve ourselves. Personally, I want to leave this life having made the lives of the people around me better than they were before they met me. I don’t want to become consumed by hatred and bitterness. I am choosing to love others and be a better person every single day. I am choosing to pray for all of my brothers and sisters who are hurting and grieving. May we all look at ourselves and realize that each moment is a choice and we are the only one who can make that choice.