Wherever You Go, There You Are: How to Stop Running and Start Facing Life’s Challenges

wherever you go there you are.jpg
“Wherever you go, there you are.”

That simple, yet profound, quote is one of my favorites.  It plainly illustrates the truth that you can’t outrun your problems.  No matter how far you go or how hard you try.  Wherever you go, you will be there and until you deal with you, your problems won’t go away.

When I was working on my book, I had a vision for the second half to be a collection of stories from other people who had also been through what I called a “Now What? Moment”.  A moment when everything in your life comes crashing down around you and you stare hopelessly at the sky asking, “Now What?”

My mind went to work right away, I could think of dozens of people in my life who had been through life-altering, dream-shattering circumstances like I had.  I am beginning to believe almost every person on earth has been through something like this.  So, the challenge wasn’t finding someone who had been through, but finding people who had faced those challenges head on instead of running.  People who had – maybe even reluctantly like me – invited the redeeming, restorative power of God’s grace into those circumstances and come out healed and whole on the other side.

As I looked around me, I saw most people were just….running.

Filling their lives with things and activities and accomplishments and people to try and cover up or forget about what they had been through.  I watched people bounce from relationship to relationship, job to job or even move across the country to try and “start fresh”.

Of course I thought about doing that too after my divorce, but that quote haunted me on repeat in my mind, “wherever you go, there you are”.  I realized it wouldn’t do me any good to be anywhere else, or be with anyone else, if I wasn’t willing to face the mess inside of me.

So I did.

It was slow and painful and challenging.  It looked like professional therapy and non-professional therapy sessions with friends.  It looked like diving into books that radically changed the way I looked at and thought about the world.  About relationships. About marriage. About God.  Most of all, it looked like stopping the running, the grasping, and the pretending.

Pretending like everything was fine when it wasn’t.  Pretending like I was over it, when I was certainly not.  Pretending like there were no residual effects from the picture I held of my whole life being shattering to pieces.

Thankfully, I did find some other people who had been down this road, people who had wrestled with grit and grace themselves, and come out renewed on the other side.  And I was able to tell their stories in my book.  Their stories are wonderful and powerful and have impacted many lives already!

I met another person recently who has an incredible “Now What?” story.  Her name is Kimberly Dewberry, and I’d like to introduce her to you now. Kimberly writes and speaks to help other people deal with the fallout of living with alcoholic family members.  Having grown up with an alcoholic father and married to an alcoholic husband, she’s no stranger to this pain and predicament herself.  And she’s well-familiar with the mess that comes out of running, rather than facing, the issue.

Here is her story:

I’ve never been the athletic type. I’m the type of person who enjoys lazy Sunday afternoon naps after church. I love sitting at my desk as my fingernails click away at the keys. I’m perfectly content sleeping in on Saturdays. Plopping down on my end of the couch after a long day at the office and watching American Pickers is my idea of bliss. I’m not an extreme exerciser. I’m not into playing volleyball on a co-ed team at church. I’m not one of those people who goes for a run in the early morning. However, I once could be called an expert in running of a different sort.

The first time I made the decision to run came soon after my Dad began drinking again after years of sobriety. At 16, I couldn’t take the uncertainty of living in a home with an alcoholic. Too many days and nights of walking on eggshells, being ignored, or having yelling matches became too much for me. I decided to run away from home.

It didn’t last long, eventually I went back. So I dealt with the life of being a child of an alcoholic the best way I knew how. I told myself I only had one year left of school and then I could escape and have a peaceful life.

During my last year of high school, I dated different boys, looking for some sort of stability and love I felt I lacked.  And at 18, I married one of those boys. I found my escape. Or so I thought.

In truth, I had run away from one unstable situation into more chaos than I could ever imagined. I quickly had two babies and a life far less than I had dreamed.

I found out that running from one bad situation into another didn’t help my state of mind. The next eleven years brought heartache, depression, and thoughts of suicide.  If it were not for the grace of God, I would have made a permanent escape.

The darkness of the night I almost took my own life couldn’t compare to the darkness I had in my heart. On my way to the bathroom, where I walked to search for some pills that would do the trick, I looked on my dresser and there laid a pamphlet I had received at work that day. A phone number was listed beneath the words, “Need help?” I knew I needed help. I stopped and stared at it for a short while. Thoughts spinning in my mind. Suddenly, I felt my heart flutter. I grabbed the cordless phone, picked up the pamphlet and walked into the bathroom closing the door behind me. God’s love interceded and I called a suicide hotline.

In my selfish desperation to run away, I hadn’t thought about the consequences for the children I would be leaving behind.  It wasn’t my time.  God had work to do in me.

I accepted God’s healing that night, I found salvation the following Sunday, but my walk with Him was short lived. When things became too difficult again, I ran—from my life and God.

I divorced my first husband and remarried.  And seven years into that second marriage, the running shoes came out again.  I went my own way. I could handle things on my own. I didn’t need anyone’s help. Besides, I thought God wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like me. Someone who couldn’t even stay married. Someone who seemed to fail at everything. 

Soon after my second divorce, I reunited with my high school sweetheart and we married in the Fall. My expertise in running away from my problems seemed to have finally worked!  This was like a fairytale!

It wasn’t long before I realized the love of my life, my high school sweetheart, was in fact an alcoholic too.  I had only run in a circle.   

Over the first five years of our marriage we went from being inseparable to living separate lives under the same roof. I had settled into a mundane existence because I was tired of running. I couldn’t face the idea of yet another failed marriage. I was determined to stay married regardless of how awful it was.

During my life of running my Mom and Dad had separated. Mom moved in with me while Dad floated between different family members and eventually became homeless. He lived under bridges and in various homeless shelters. We didn’t know if he was dead or alive.

Then God decided to put an end to my running. Without any inclination or warning, my aunt called us to let us know Dad had been found in a local hospital with a broken hip and terminal stomach cancer. He somehow remembered her phone number and reached out to her. The doctor’s gave him a month to live, which he would spend in my home on hospice care.

God used the last three weeks of Dad’s life to teach me about his healing grace, mercy, and forgiveness. I had run from the chaos, but I could no longer run from God. He opened my eyes to my husband’s alcoholism. Patrick’s drinking had intensified over the five years of our marriage, but I thought I could fix it. God opened my eyes to my co-dependency and controlling behavior. At 16, when my Dad’s drinking started again, I felt out of control so controlling people, situations, and outcomes became my way of life.

God used the pain and grief of losing Dad to make me see that the only way to truly live is to be fully connected to a gracious, loving, merciful Heavenly Father. God is not like an earthly father, with faults and failings that you can run from. His love and timing are perfect, patiently waiting for us to grow weary of running from his open arms.

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”

Ecclesiastes 3:11

Thankfully, God not only saved me, but He saved my husband, too.

A few weeks after my Dad died, I was yet again nudged by God. This time, though, He nudged me to confront Patrick about his alcoholism. My husband immediately stopped drinking but after a few weeks, he made comments to me insinuating it was a temporary situation. Again, God’s nudging persisted. I followed His lead and asked my husband to leave.

God had very important work to do and we were getting in His way. Only God knew we needed to be apart and alone so we could rely fully on Him. We both did just that.

As a result, Patrick and I rededicated our lives to Christ. We each committed our lives to God on the same day, within hours. Neither of us knew it until a few days later when we agreed to meet to talk. I am amazed by God’s handiwork in our marriage! I give Him all the glory for saving not only each of us but our marriage too.

Out of all of this, I have taken on an entirely new identity.  Despite the shortcomings of my earthly father, I am a child of God.  I no longer have the need to control others because I no longer need other people to make me happy or feel satisfied.  I have turned my life over to the care of my Heavenly Father. I no longer run away from problems that arise, instead I run to the One who saves me.

Jesus is my comforter.

He always has been and always will be.

And when life gets hard, I don’t have to run to anyone or anything but Him anymore.    

 

A Little More About Kimberly:

Kimberly Dewberry
I struggled for 25 years to cope with an addicted parent. I know first-hand how the serenity and peace of God’s redemption are keys to personal wholeness. In my weekly devotions, I share my story and provide valuable biblical principles for overcoming the effects of growing up with an addicted parent. Visit my blog or follow my social media!

Chain Breaker

If you’ve got pain, He’s a pain taker
If you feel lost, He’s a way maker
If you need freedom, saving, He’s a prison-shaking Savior
If you’ve got chains, He’s a chain breaker.
-Zach Williams, Chain Breaker

Every Thursday night that I’m not out of town for work, I get the opportunity to volunteer in the senior high ministry at my church.  And every week when I walk out of that room I feel overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude, awe and wonder.

Gratitude that I get to be a small part in these young adult’s lives, at such an impressionable and vulnerable age.  The things they are learning about themselves and the world right now, are what will shape their self-image and sense of self-worth for life.

I am in awe that God still chooses to use me, despite all that I have been through and all the things I have done wrong in my life.

And I am in wonder at the ways He works miraculously through me, my story, and my experiences.

This past week was particularly astounding.  The message was on experiencing Freedom, which is one of my five core passions in life, and one of the things I believe God has specifically created me for.

As the presenter told a story about a time in his life that he lived with the fear and bondage of what other people thought of him, and how he was set free from that, the students were instructed to bind their wrists in zip ties and think about things that are keeping them from freedom in their own lives. Whether that be bitterness, fear, pride, a relationship, a habit, an addiction…. As he wrapped up, he read a list of examples that other high school students had written down about some of the things they felt they were in bondage to:

Worrying about the future
If I’m honest, no one will forgive me or love me.
Eventually God will say enough is enough.
I’ll never be good enough
[the thought that] Forgiving someone means what they did is ok
I’m super scared people won’t approve of me
I’m afraid I’m not smart enough
I’m afraid I’ve done too much
I’m afraid everyone will stop loving me
[I feel like] I have to do everything on my own because if I let people help, they will end up hurting me even more.

As he read, I cried.  A couple of them really hit home for me because they were thoughts I had had myself at one point in my life.  I was also thinking about how universal those thoughts are; certainly every student in the room could relate to one, or any number of, the things on that list.

The students sat with their hands locked together as he finished and the worship band began to play “Break Every Chain” by Tasha Cobbs.  The lyrics go, “There is power in the name of Jesus, to break every chain, break every chain, break every chain.”  When they were ready, they could walk to the back of the room where we leaders were standing with scissors to physically free them from their bondage of the zip tie, and pray for them to be released of their spiritual or emotional enslavement, if they wished.

One-by-one wrist-bound students got up and made their way to the back of the room.  One girl asked me to pray for her.  She told me she keeps asking God to send good people in her life, but then every time He does she pushes the person away and sabotages the relationship.  I asked her if she thought that was based on fears from her past, from other people she got close to who hurt, or abandoned or betrayed her.  She said yes.  So I prayed for her to be free of that past hurt, and to have an open heart and mind to receive these new, good people God was sending her.

As she walked away and I started singing along with the lyrics, I was flooded with the emotion of the moment. What an incredible metaphor happening all around me that I was getting to participate in.  It occurred to me that the ONLY reason I could stand at the back of the room and cut the ties of bondage off of these students was because I had already experienced that yoke-destroying freedom for myself!  By no means does that mean I’m perfect, or that I have arrived, but I am no longer bound. I am free, forgiven, redeemed, whole, made righteous and holy.

It’s in this state – and ONLY in this state – I am able to help others walk into freedom for themselves.

Streams of thankfulness poured from my eyes as I stood in amazement of a God who chooses me, who loves me, who sees me, and who breaks my every chain.

13923502_10209965577673225_4304605923333281809_o

Things to Remember When You’re Feeling Unwanted

DSC_0806

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