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  Sometimes I despise Christian radio. Don't get me wrong - my car radio is usually tuned to Christian stations, but I have moments when their talk shows come on and they sound so self-righteous I want to scream and change the dial. Recently, there happened to be an "expert" on families and marriage talking about "broken" families. You know, families like mine. Families who have experienced divorce and deal with remarriage and, in his eyes, need to be called "broken." (Side note - if you did not grow up in a "broken" family and have not experienced divorce yourself, are you really an expert? What do you authentically know about divorce? Can you really understand the experiences of step-parents and step-children? Your reading a book about it and looking at families like mine as a case study in your PhD program do not, in my eyes, make you an expert whose advice is more valuable than my experience. And your condescending tone and pitying banter leave MUCH to be desired. But I digress.) Good grief, what a term. "Broken" families. Listen. I understand. I understand that God's design is for one mother and one father to live together forever in holy matrimony and to raise their...


  When you've experienced rejection in your life, a serious rejection of all that you are, you see everything through the lens of being unwanted and unworthy. Worthless, as a matter of fact, and disposable. You very easily operate from the assumption that who you are is never enough, and you believe with every fiber of your being that even your presence in a room is tolerated but never wanted. Every interaction is guarded, and you wait for the inevitable moment when you will be pushed aside, cast away like the rubbish you are. Small slights from others reinforce your beliefs about your value, and self-preservation begs you to build walls to protect yourself from further destruction. You isolate yourself because you know you are an outsider, a person whose purpose is to be seen but not heard. Noticed but not acknowledged. Tolerated but never loved. The rejection becomes something not just done to you, but your very identity. You weren't rejected - you are rejected. It's never a past-tense action; it's ongoing and assumed in the future. It's the air that surrounds you, the enveloping presence with you forever. Living as one rejected is excruciating, and without intentionality, it becomes your default and...


  Recently I had one of those days where I just looked around and asked, "What am I doing here?" I was frustrated with every little thing I did, and I felt like I was just spinning my wheels. Nothing was working the way I wanted or planned for it to, and if banging my head against a wall would have helped, I would have been all over that. I felt really unproductive and totally useless, and if there's anything I can't handle, it's feeling like a waste of humanity. Please tell me you have these days, too. I know my calling in life, and I understand my greater purpose. I know why and for Whom I was created, but my problem is losing sight of the forest for the trees. I see the big picture, but the details trip me up, and I stall out sometimes when I get lost in the day-to-day that's supposed to lead to the ultimate. I second-guess myself and feel hesitant, and when I do, I beat myself up. It becomes a ridiculous cycle of work, create, destroy. Know, do, question. Believe, waver, stop. It's maddening, and I begin to apologize for even taking up space in the world....


  I drove by her house and burst into tears. I'm not sure why. I've been by there many times since our friendship fizzled out and have been just fine, but on this day, I felt particularly vulnerable. I felt alone and lonely, and seeing her house reminded me of what was lost. I just wanted it back.   I wanted the phone calls for no reason where we chatted about nothing. I wanted the shared meals and shared times where we simply enjoyed each other's company. I wanted the friendship. I just wanted it back. But the reality is that it's gone. That particular friendship didn't make it to this particular season of life, and there's nothing I can do to change it. Isn't that the worst? Seeing what is gone and missing it like mad, but being helpless to bring it back? It's the worst. But it's not the end. You see, our enemy wants us to see all endings as the end. He wants us to believe that the death of one thing is the death of all things, and he wants us to believe that when one thing is lost, all is lost. And I know it's tempting to believe him. I've had my fair share of days when I've...