When my family and I first moved to the Cumberland Plateau, we didn’t realize we would be learning an entirely new culture and language, such as, “Don’t plant your garden until the oak leaf is the size of a squirrel’s ear.” Good to know.
We loved exploring the nearby areas, traveling down long, curvy roads through the mountains, discovering all kinds of exciting things along the way. But it took a while to learn the customs of the new world we had chosen.
For instance, on two different occasions we stopped at intriguing yard sales to rummage through the fascinating things on display until we were approached by the homeowners, only to discover nothing was for sale. They were personal treasures that just happened to live in the front yard. “So, so sorry…we just thought…”
Then there was the morning Clay and I found a new route down the mountain and we spotted a road sign for a nearby café. Awesome! We loved discovering new places to eat. We traveled down a narrow country road until we found it. Friendly looking place - big, wide porch with rockers and a newspaper stand by the front door.
We parked our car in the gravel lot and entered the cafe. It was quiet and a little dark inside, but hey, it was early. We seated ourselves at one of the tables and waited for someone to appear. A couple of minutes later a woman walked in wearing a house robe and slippers and said, “Who are you? What are you doing in here?!”
“We’re just waiting to see a menu.”
“Well, this isn’t a restaurant anymore.” What? How about the tables and chairs, and the newspaper stand, and the sign on the road?
“Hasn’t been a restaurant in a long time. We live here now.” So, we apologized, quickly exited the building and were grateful we could leave peacefully.
How could we be so confused? Honestly, there were days when it seemed we were looking at the world through a distorted mirror at the county fair.
Sometimes I feel like our world at Blue Monarch must seem that way to the women and children we serve. There are many things they may have experienced with their families and friends at home, that are not the way we do things here. We have rules about cooking, for instance, like do not pour grease down the drain – or in our neighbor’s cow pasture, either. We do not allow spanking but encourage time out instead. The list goes on, and on, and on.
It’s pretty remarkable, really, that the families we serve are expected to change almost every single thing they are accustomed to – the way they spend their time, how they spend their money, how they parent their children, how they solve problems, how they treat others, how they handle relationships – even what they feed their children. I often think I would not be able to adapt to so many changes if I were asked to do the same.
But sadly, there is one single thing that stands out more than any other, the one thing that is the hardest to change. They believe they can trust no one. This applies to the women and the children. The children are just more obvious about it. Sometimes it takes weeks for the children to even make eye contact with our staff.
This suspicion is so deeply engrained in them, it takes months and months to prove we can actually be trusted, and even then, they very cautiously grab onto this concept. They reach out one hand at a time, always keeping one eye open just in case. Consistency is so important in gaining that trust. Just one slipup can be a deal breaker – and then the process starts all over again.
For crying out loud, it’s no wonder. Many times, it is the ones they should have been able to trust the most, who hurt and violated them the most. I cannot even count the number of stories I have heard of mothers who prostituted their daughters for drug money - or biological fathers who sexually abused their daughters, or the countless other combinations of offenders who were allowed into the home by someone they trusted. How would one ever trust again? They may not have trusted anyone since that first awful incident as a child.
I had a young mother sit in my office recently. With tears in her eyes she confessed that in her seven months with us, she had decided to trust only two people, and even that seemed scary to her. I was honored to be one of the two, but it hurt my heart to think of all the wonderful people she had encountered over the past seven months, that she was still keeping at arms’ length. She just can’t let go of that defense mechanism. The pain this causes her was evident in her face - even in the twisted way she was hugging herself in my chair and wrapping her legs into a knot.
After this woman left my office, I found myself sitting there thinking about all she was missing out on because she could not trust others. It made me angry toward all the ones who had hurt her because they robbed her peace and totally changed the lens through which she viewed the world. I considered all the struggles that could have been simpler if she had not been so distrustful. The joys she could have experienced if she had just let go of her fears. She was making it so hard! Harder than it had to be!
And suddenly this started to sound familiar…
There was a time in our early years when I had a big, screaming fit with God. Blue Monarch was a young non-profit and money was scarce. I barely had the money to pay the electric bill, and I definitely didn’t have enough for payroll the next week. In tears, I bent over my kitchen table, white-knuckled the edge and yelled, “Why did you ask me to do this if you weren’t going to give me the resources to make it happen?! What were you think-ing?!”
The immediate answer came loud and clear. “You’re the one who makes it so hard because you don’t trust me.” This stopped me in my tracks, and I began wondering, have I not? No, I realized I was trying to do Blue Monarch in my own power – not in His. No wonder it was so flippin’ hard!
Since that time, when I get completely overwhelmed and feel like I can’t even take a deep breath, I have to remind myself, “Hey, this is God’s plan, not yours. Trust Him to take care of it, because it’s too big for you.” And you know what? That always brings such relief.
So, Lord, that’s the change I so desperately want for this woman. I want her to learn to trust you and the ones you put in her path. I want her to love life – not just survive it. I want her to make up for lost time that was taken by the ones who hurt her. I want her to open up those twisted arms and reach for you. Please speak to her and teach her just like you taught me – that it doesn’t have to be so flippin’ hard. Well, maybe those weren’t your exact words, but hey, you know what I mean. Amen
Footnote: Turns out my neighbor was right. I should have waited until the oak leaf was the size of a squirrel’s ear and my lettuce would not have frozen.
