"Who broke the jar?!"

Like a lot of kids my age, I had my tonsils removed when I was younger. I asked the doctor if I could keep them, and much to my mother’s regret he was happy to oblige. I came home with a sore throat, all the ice cream I could eat, and two nasty looking tonsils floating in some kind of clear liquid.  

The jar of tonsils had an important job to do and were immediately tucked away on the top shelf in my closet.  

I had a powder blue diary with flowers on the front, along with a small metal lock to keep out intruders. The tiny key was kept in a separate undisclosed location that I frequently moved for extra security. Nevertheless, I was still concerned someone might read my private thoughts, so this diary eventually became the decoy diary. It developed into a false narrative about how much I loved practicing the piano, going to church, and minding my parents - just in case.  

The real diary was out of sight strategically hidden behind the jar of tonsils. That journal described a night when my friend, Janet, and I sneaked out of her house to smoke a cigarette down by the creek and how I watched another friend steal bikini underwear from a dime store downtown. I don’t think it included how disgusting the cigarette tasted or how I lost respect for my friend for being a thief. I probably couldn’t include those things because this diary was the raw, uncut version, which meant there was a standard of badness to uphold. In the meantime, the tonsils were there to discourage anyone who might be tempted to dig.

One day I came home, and the jar of tonsils had fallen off the shelf and broken wide open on the floor. The odor was something so hideous it became the standard by which to measure all bad smells the rest of my life. I was mostly concerned about the diary and potential invasion of privacy and vowed to never put my secrets on paper again. Even to this day, I keep a dream journal but that’s it.

As I observe the incredible women of Blue Monarch, I am often impressed and amazed at their willingness to share such personal feelings, failures, and poor choices to their peers and even large crowds of strangers. They don’t start out with that level of transparency, but as they eventually reveal their true stories to others, they begin to find freedom from no longer carrying the dark, ugly secrets. 

This process is not easy and usually brings lots of tears. But once they release the ugliness into the atmosphere, we literally see the weight lifted as well. The secrets no longer hold power over them, which is why the process is so healing.

This steady building of integrity brings them to a place where honesty becomes a much easier way to live. It is often surprising how truthfulness takes so much less energy than covering up lies and keeping them straight. That can be exhausting. Just think of the time and energy that went into keeping two diaries that were nothing alike. And neither told the whole story so both were essentially worthless.

There is a crossing over point, so to speak, when we can tell a woman has reached a significant level of integrity in her recovery. It usually reveals itself in a confession with lots of tears.

This is how it often goes. She will probably leave a note on my desk with a heartfelt apology for breaking a rule and not respecting our program or staff by her indiscretion. She will come into my office, sit in the least comfortable chair because she thinks she deserves it, reach for a tissue or two when I hand her the box, and she will spill the beans about a rule she broke when she clearly knew better.

We will talk about all the red flags and how her behavior impacts her recovery. We may even discuss how the specific act was listed on her own plan to prevent possible relapse, and then we will talk about how to go forward. She will later dissect each step of the act with our counselor and program director to examine the thought pattern that caused her to stumble. 

But sometimes I almost have to smile privately to myself because whatever “it” was, will typically be much less severe than even the smallest crime she committed before coming to Blue Monarch. The comparison will be dramatic.  

This is such a tangible indication of how the woman's world has shifted. Her standard for honesty has changed and she desires a clean heart over a deceitful one. An act that was not even worth noting in her old life feels completely unacceptable in her new life, and she recognizes how it may lead to other poor choices if gone unchecked. Where she may have previously allowed her pride to get in the way, she will come to us for accountability, which demonstrates great humility and maturity.

It is evident the children we serve have paid close attention to their parents’ behavior. It shows in their language and actions and some things may take a while to reteach. But as our moms and kids heal and recover together, they will also pay close attention to moments like this one. The day Mommy decided to be honest will make an impression on her children because they will see the relief and freedom reflected on her face.  

Our program is lengthy with many hiccups and struggles along the way but there is a brilliant rainbow at the end of that crooked road. With every day, we get one step closer to the moment that family will look back and be proud of their journey together. They will say, "Look what we did! It was a tough one, but we did it with integrity and honesty." 

Now that I think about it, maybe it’s time to tell my mom about the real diary and stop wondering who broke the jar.  I believe that’s what the women of Blue Monarch would tell me to do.

The righteous lead blameless lives; blessed are their children after them. Proverbs 20:7 NIV