Things to Remember When You’re Feeling Unwanted

Saturday was Clayton’s first football game. Clayton is the 9 year old boy who currently lives at my house with his mom, Jenny. I forgot my pom-poms but dressed in team colors with Nikon in hand, my husband and I walked into the ballpark ready to cheer on our little friend.

Jenny met us at the gate and pointed, “We are under that green tent, I left something in my car, be right back.” We found Clayton’s grandparents and I sat in the chair Jenny brought from our house. Jenny never sits, she’s too excited. The sun was bright but dark storm clouds were gathering, it was about to be a drencher!

The parents in front of us asked which player was ours and we told them it was our friend’s son. The dad admitted he needed someone to root for to make things more exciting; his daughter was one of the cheerleaders in front of us on the sideline.

There were several other parents in the tent. When one woman entered, our new cheer-dad friend said, “Come on in, we’ll make room for you. After all it is your tent!” They scooted their chairs up, and I scooted mine to the far edge of the side, Barry and Jenny stood behind me.

By the middle of the second quarter, the rain started. Just a sprinkle at first, then heavier. More and more people took shelter under the various tents, including the one we were under. There was chatter around me, but I was busy trying to find Clayton on the field with my lens.

Then above all the other voices I heard, “Oh you mean MY tent. Yeah, I couldn’t even tell it was my tent.” And as I looked over my shoulder, the green tent owner was rolling her eyes and shot a look in our direction. In that moment I realized we were the cause of the chatter. We were not actually welcome in this tent at all. I had assumed Jenny knew the green tent mom, and that she knew we were Jenny’s friends. Now it seemed that was not the case.

After another minute or two, and some more chatter, I stood up and folded up my chair and moved to stand behind Barry. Instantly, green tent mom violently planted her chair in the spot mine had been, even though she wasn’t sitting, she was certainly going to claim that space.

I felt the heat rise in my face. I felt embarrassed and ignorant for not knowing proper peewee football game tent protocol. I felt like I had imposed myself into a place and into a group where I was not invited or welcome. I felt like an outsider. I wanted to leave right then and never come back to another game, to never have to see these people again in my life. I felt a sting in the corner of my eyes and I couldn’t believe how much this was upsetting me.

Barry could sense my mood had shifted and asked, “What’s wrong? Are you having headache symptoms?” I shook my head and under my breath, “No, snarky mom symptoms.”

The seconds counting down to halftime could not pass quickly enough. At the buzzer, I turned and hugged Jenny and whispered in her ear, “Do you know the person who owns this tent?”

“No,” She said.

“Well, we are not welcome here. She’s made a couple comments, so we are leaving because I don’t have to be subject to that. Here’s my camera, you’re welcome to use it for the rest of the game.”

With every step I took on my march back to the parking lot the fuller my eyes got, until the giant tears spilled over my bottom lids and down my face.

I felt foolish for letting something so minor and petty make me this upset. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why it was so upsetting, really. But I recognized it was obviously a trigger of some larger emotional issue. Something I didn’t even realize was still rooted that strongly in my heart.

Suddenly, I was back in middle school and my older brother, whom I worshipped, was telling me through verbal and non-verbal ques, “you’re annoying, I don’t like you, nobody wants you around.”

I’ve come to coin this feeling “Annoying Little Sister Syndrome”. And I didn’t even realize it was an issue in my life until I was 25 and reeling with the emotional fallout of my divorce.

I went through a small group journey at my church called the “Free Journey” and realized so many of my insecurities and behavior in and from my marriage stemmed back to my childhood rejection from my brother. For example: Any time my husband chose to spend time with anyone other than me – like a guy friend – all I heard and felt was, “you’re annoying, I don’t like you, nobody wants you around.” So I would lash out in anger or with a controlling response.

I started to see how these feelings had manifested themselves in high school and into my adult years. I was possessive and controlling of my friends – and would become hurt or offended if they had friends outside of me.

But these feelings started even before my brother got “too cool” for me during his teenage years. My brother’s behavior only reinforced the whisper of a lie that was already planted in my mind.

For as far back as I can remember, I used to run away and hide from my parents every chance I got. I didn’t even know why I was doing it but what I did know is the longer it took them to find me the less loved I felt.

I remember one time I ran outside after church one Sunday and hid in the tall grass behind the building. I was laying there watching the clouds, I may have even fallen asleep. But I also remember hearing less and less voices and car doors in the parking lot until finally there were none and I was alone. They didn’t find me, they didn’t come for me, they didn’t even notice I was gone! Rather than panic, I started to cry. Because my parents hadn’t come after me, I obviously was unwanted and unloved.

In reality, I went to a small country church a mile from my house with most of my large extended family. So my parents just assumed another relative took me home. As soon as they realized that wasn’t the case they came back for me and found me inconsolable on the stoop of the sanctuary.

My parents were incredible and unconditionally loving, they did absolutely nothing at any point in my childhood to signify that I was either unwanted or unloved by them. So where did this idea come from?

You and I have an enemy. He is crafty and mightily skilled at deception. He is referred to in history as the “great deceiver” and the “father of lies”.

From the day we are born, he begins whispering seeds of doubt, fear, insecurity, and downright un-truth into our tiny ears and hearts. Maybe for you it’s not “unwanted” but, “ugly”, or “ignorant”, or “worthless”. And then he waits for any circumstance in our life that we could interpret as a reinforcement of those lies. He leaps at the opportunity to water and fertilize that seed so that it takes root and sprouts in our life.

In the opposite corner of the ring from our enemy is another Person – our ally, our friend, our creator, our Father. He has also been planting seeds in our hearts from the moment of our conception. These are seeds of Truth and love and acceptance, of purpose.

Just like a garden will be overcome entirely with weeds if not properly tended, so our hearts will become overrun with lies, choking out the Truth, if not guarded and maintained with the same care.

What you fertilize is what flourishes.

Fertilizing lies can happen many different ways. For me, I was seeking my entire sense of approval, acceptance and self-worth in whether or not my brother thought I was cool enough to hang with he and his friends. And before then, it was whether or not my parents noticed I was missing “fast enough”.

And it manifested itself in my behavior – always being the “good one”, the “perfect” one, the “popular” one people wanted to be around. Always concerned with my image and my performance. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect athlete. While simultaneously being the perfect partier, the perfect drinker, the perfect flirt and “cool enough” to fit in with whatever crowd I wanted.

Whatever I needed to do to be positively reinforced and affirmed by people in my life.

And this was just rooting those weeds deeper and grooming them for continual growth.

Conversely, fertilizing Truth only happens one way. By seeking your approval and self-worth from THE Source of Truth.

And it has nothing to do with your clothes, or your grades, your friends, your job, or how well you follow the rules. It has nothing to do with what you can do at all. It has everything to do with sweetly resting in the fact that God loves you – no matter what.

The last thing I want is for this post to sound hokey and churchy. To be glossed over and concluded with, “what a friend we have in Jesus”.

The truth is, I didn’t have this revelation while I as living my perfect life and everything was going great for me. I had this revelation for myself when I was at the bottom of my lowest pit. I was broken, and battered, I was making bad decision after bad decision and hurting a lot of people in the process. I was disappointed in myself and I imagined so was everyone else. I felt like I had ruined my life beyond repair. I had no hope for anything good in my future.

And I was angry at God because I felt like I had played by his rules and lost big time.

It was in this place, when I was running fast and hard and far away from God that He chased after me relentlessly and passionately. I felt him saying, “Honey, all those thing you think you know about me aren’t true. Come get to know me for yourself.”

He wanted me. He liked me. He did want me around.

In 2013, Dara Mcclean released a song called “Wanted” (if you’ve never heard it, go listen now) my favorite lyrics are:

From the day you were born
And took your first breath
You opened your eyes and in came the light
He was watching you
But all of your life you couldn’t shake the lies in your head
Saying you’re a mistake
Oh but you were made
By a God who knows your name
He doesn’t make mistakes

You are wanted

The first time I heard those words I cried, and every time since I can barely sing along through my sobs.

I remember driving through downtown Vancouver a couple years ago with my windows down in my rental car blaring music from my phone. The sidewalks were crowded with swarms of bodies. When that song came on, I remember looking around and really seeing each individual person. At each stoplight I studied them. Tears blurred my vision as I wondered, do they know these words are true? Have they ever heard this before? As they are walking down the road right now are they questioning if they have a purpose or a plan for their life? This may be the only time they hear this message.

I wish so much that I could open up my head and let people who are hurting inside for even just a minute. I want them to see what I see, and feel what I feel, and know what I know about their Father who created them. Who loves them.

Just think about that for a second. The Creator of all the universe looked into it and saw fit to create one of you, that you were needed. He not only loves you, He likes you. He wants you. He knew beforehand every mistake you would ever make and STILL He wanted to bring you to life. And He STILL wants to be with you now.

Once you really grasp that for yourself, other people’s opinions and approval cease to matter. You might still shed a few tears over a peewee football mom‘s snarky comments or unwelcoming attitude but at the end of the day you are reminded that you are wanted and welcomed by the One who really matters.

Keep watering those seeds. And pluck out the weeds of doubt that tell you otherwise.

For the record, I ordered my own tent on the way home, so I will never have to experience that feeling again. At first I told myself and we will not let a single other person use it but us. But then I changed my mind and decided the stipulation for our tent will be that it is open to anyone, and everyone is welcome to use it. I really wanted to order a custom-made banner that read: “Welcome! Come use our tent!” with a line in parenthesis below that said “because we are not ass holes” (haha …this is me still not being perfect.) But, instead I just ordered a simple “Welcome” banner.

And if green tent mom ever gets stuck in a rainstorm at a game, she will have a place to stay dry and feel wanted.

welcome tent

The Year God Stopped Talking to Me

New year’s day 2016 I sat on my living room couch, face red-stained and eyes puffy from hours of crying, my voice half-strained from screaming – at God – in particularly colorful language at times.

Why?

Because it was New Year’s Day and as I sat down to reflect on the previous year and craft my plans and goals for the next, I realized 2015…..Well…..sucked.

Sure there were good things in 2015. In fact, on the outside it looked like a GREAT year:
We bought our first house.
Barry left his job where he was miserable and went into business with his Dad.
We took my my mom on an incredible trip to Hawaii for her 60th birthday.
I finished the last chapter of my book
Started a blog and author social media pages
Began my public speaking career…..

But behind the scenes:
The first two months in our new house Barry and I fought more than we had in the first five years of our relationship – combined.
Barry’s new arrangement with his dad happened a little prematurely than they planned and put a lot of pressure on both of them. Which caused Barry to be tense and irritable and led to us fighting more.
The second day of our incredible Hawaii trip, I got a call that my high school best friend overdosed on heroin and died and I spent most the trip bouncing back and forth between laughing and enjoying the present moment and crying after being blindsided by another memory of him.
I was told blogging and creating a social media following was necessary for building a platform for a book release. But once I started, they only added extra work and mental energy to my already overflowing plate. Which caused me to feel exhausted and (you guessed it) led to us fighting more.
My new speaking career was also happening earlier than I anticipated – it felt overwhelming and intimidating to me, like I was in over my head. I constantly questioned if I was ready or qualified for the task at hand, leaving me feeling insecure and vulnerable.

The fact that all of these things happened within a three month timespan caused so much stress, tension, and anxiety in my life – and my body- it literally almost broke my gallbladder.

I experienced excruciating pain that resulted getting 3-4 hours of sleep a night, for months. It was so bad I almost went to the emergency room on more than one occasion. I lived in fear of every meal I ate because I never knew what was going to hurt me and what wasn’t. For about a month, I ate nothing but rotisserie chicken and apples, since I knew those were two things that would not cause pain.

Sure, there were good things that came as a result of the bad things:
My alarming health challenge caused Barry and I to stop fighting. I had never felt his love as tangibly as I did in those months, as he cared for me, sat up with me, rubbed the soreness out of my back from being hunched over for hours, stayed up with me, and prayed for me.
He took over as the spiritual leader in our home, standing in the gap for me as I struggled with doubt, uncertainty and fear.
These things aroused a great respect and admiration in me for him, and caused me to fall more deeply in love with him than I ever had been.

Days leading up to New Year’s, I couldn’t stop reminding myself that the ONE thing I did want to get accomplished in 2015 – publishing my book – didn’t happen.

I literally had a single goal, a single dream, a single resolution for two-thousand-fifteen: to put my book on physical (and digital) bookshelves and into hands of people who so desperately need it.
And it. didn’t. happen.

I felt like a total failure. Like I had wasted an entire year of my life.

And, in the midst of aaaaallllll that, God was completely, and utterly, silent. He had been for months at that point.

For countless nights I sat up in hours of pain, I had been pleading with God to show Himself to me. To show me the purpose in any of this.

I had reasoned if the manifestation of my healing wasn’t happening physically immediately, then there must be something I was supposed to be learning in the meantime. Something God wanted to teach me in this place of waiting.

I began asking Him what that was and let Him know I was fully open and joyfully on-board with learning whatever the lesson. Honestly.

Awaiting a reply, I got: NOTHING.
Not a peep.
Nada.
Zilch.
Not a single word

And then, our basement flooded.

That’s when the crying started.

It was New Year’s Eve. As we sat at home, instead of out ringing in the new year with our friends, dismantling drywall and sucking water out with a carpet shampooer, the weight of everything just hit me. I reached my breaking point. And enough tears to fill our basement a second time came spilling out of me.

I began crying out to God again.

If you’re going to make me go through all of this, at least tell me what I’m supposed to be learning! What I’m supposed to be getting out of it!! I shouted at Him.

Still nothing.

I don’t deserve this! I am being so faithful. Do you not see me? Are you not paying attention? Look at me!! What more do you want from me?!

[I began to feel a little like the bi-polar David in Psalms: “I love you Lord, your eyes are always upon me, you have blessed me abundantly.” Very next verse, “God, why do you hate me? My enemies are about to destroy me, why aren’t you watching?!”]

More silence.

And that’s when I got angry.

By New Year’s day, I was yelling most of the same things – just use your imagination to insert expletives in the middle of every sentence. (I guess I had moved on to a little bit of Job at that point….)

Now, what would make this story really great is if this is the part where I tell you, “and then God’s voice boomed audibly into my living room and said, ‘Rachel, oh ye of little faith, I Am still right here.’”

But that’s not what happened.

In fact, I had to sit on this blog for several months because my prayers for a Word and an understanding remained unanswered.

This was the first time since becoming a Christian – really becoming a Christian, since God had pursued me and I met Him in a real and intimate way five years ago – that I wasn’t hearing from Him, that I couldn’t feel Him close to me.

I had relegated myself to the thought that I was just in spiritual dry/desert season and would have to wait it out. (You can read about the desert season here: http://racheldawnwrites.com/blog/deserts)

But Now…..The Rest of the Story

A couple months prior to my New Year’s Day meltdown, a friend reached out to me asking me if I could recommend any specific scripture to help her through a current rough season. I told her, “That’s not really the way my relationship with God works – I hear from Him in songs, and books about Him, or books about the Bible, or even from Him directly (in my mind).” I recommended some songs that really helped me when I was in the same place, and a couple books she could read. And went on about my day.

See, I had tried reading the Bible all the way through, more than once, without success. And anytime I was dealing with something specific, I tried flipping to the concordance to find verses that applied to my own situation, but I always turned up empty – the verses would feel disconnected from what I was going through, so I gave up on that.

Whenever I needed an answer about something, I picked up a Christian book on the topic or found a preacher teaching a message about it to get my answer.

In those weeks of silence while battling my gallbladder symptoms, I began reading a book a friend had recommended to me. It was a topical study Bible called, “The Complete Personalized Promise Bible for Women”. I planned on using it for reference to find healing scriptures to meditate on, but I started with page 1 of the introduction and I’m glad I did. It hooked me, and I started reading it as a daily devotional of sorts.

For each section/topic, there is a promise, a faith confession for that promise, then scriptures backing up the confession.

While studying there, I came across this verse in 2^nd Thessalonians: “So then, brothers, stand firm and hold on to the teachings passed on to you, whether by word of mouth OR BY LETTER.”

I started laughing as it occurred to me Paul was writing to the early church in Thessalonica; those people were getting their messages from God in written letters, via Paul.

And in that moment Paul’s letter was to me saying: “God has written a letter to you. Stand firm and hold on to the things He wrote down 2,000 years ago.”

The next day as I sat writing in my prayer journal, praising God for using that verse to speak to me, I started laughing again as another revelation came: The Bible is called “God’s Word” – literally God’s Words. The Words He spoke to the people He loved. He had already said plenty to me, and it was all written down and recorded, preserved in time, so I could revisit it anytime I wanted or needed.

I was humbled. How arrogant of me to expect Him to talk to me, when I want, in the manner I want?

All that time I was in the desert, He was talking to me right in those pages, but I wasn’t receiving it. I wasn’t even looking in the right place!

How many tears (and angry words), how much stress and heartache, would I have saved myself if I had only looked there earlier? How different could the year 2015 have been?

God – thanks for never leaving us, and never forsaking us. Thanks for loving us enough to send and leave Your Word for us. And thanks for your everlasting and unconditional grace that we can never ever use up, because we need it – big time.