Letting You See the Hidden Places

My husband, I write this mostly for me to track my own growth in this thing, but also for you to see what is happening inside me.
A book by the title Love Is a Choice made revolutionary changes in my life when my first marriage was ending...but it didn't go quite far enough to kill the curse bound up in it, too.

The blessing: love is a choice I make, so I am not driven by the tides of emotion and the rawness of desire. I have the power to decide the way I will relate to the significant others in my world. This I understood from the book, and the benefits of this understanding reached larger than my own mind and soul.

The curse: love is a choice others make, and in their choosing with regards to me, I am ever reminded of my second-best status. In one relationship after another, from the time I was my youngest son's age until this very day, it has been "proven" to me over and over that my value is tied up in my acceptance of this role: that I must be ever striving for the benefit of others. This striving is itself the housing for my intrinsic value. When I was young, I learned I am not the "captive princess" so desirable that she must be rescued at all costs. For many young girls, this is not only the fantasy, but also the reality. No, I was taught to be part of the team of rescuers. In this role, I just might receive a medal of honor if I serve valiantly to improve the life of one or the lives of many, those who really matter. And while it is noble to choose this role in the drama of interactive life, it is another thing entirely to be given no choice...others are the choosers. Nevertheless, if I have ever balked at my positioning, I was told that I was being selfish or that this was not really about me anyway.

Now as I read Captivating, I find myself studying these things. Remembering the hard memories, the bittersweet ones. A little at a time goes a long way. Like this one:

As a young child, what princess-fantasies did you have?

All little girls have some type of fantasy of being a beauty, and I was no different. But even at that young age, I had the instinct to remove others from my fantasy world. At least I understood that my imagination was a domain of my own, and that may have been the greatest early gift of grace I ever received. If others would never invite Cinderella out of the kitchen and to the ball, well then they simply weren't in the story. Really, the only place this type of fantasy expressed itself in my life was when I went walking in the woods alone, as I often did when a 'tweener. I'd imagine myself in a elvish castle inhabited by mythical woodland creatures--they were safe enough characters, as they were not human and thus not in competition with me for significance. This was an easy set for the drama given the stone stairs and paths in the state parks near where I lived and given the solitary nature of my walks. Or I imagined I was following a magical woodsman who was taking me to become his bride, the lady of his secret estate, a place hidden deep in the wilds and unknown to all because of its remoteness.

As I look at the things happening in my prayer life now, I am compelled to ask: were my childhood fantasies evidence of that deep-awareness that children seem to have? Was I, even as a child, walking in unspoken prayer-communion with the God who would later put a call on my life that renewed the purpose of these fantasies? Or is my current prayer life just an outgrowth of unresolved childhood pain? I see why You have been so interactive with me through all this, God. Otherwise I probably would dismiss much of what has been our recent relationship as just a sign of "wounded sickness" and the indulgence of a presently-effective defense mechanism.

So now, I will learn how to articulate what You've been trying to show me these last few months. Before I even picked up this book or started along this train of thought, You began weaving Your cocoon around me, made plain that day You reduced me to tears in the grocery store. You drew me toward a sign of a girl holding a rope--so much like that dream You gave me where I swung on a rope--"This is you," You seemed to say of the sign, and how much more fitting now that it was a little girl holding the rope. The text with the picture said, "Let's show her she's beautiful." The ad was selling soap, but that was beside the point for me. Still, even that fits: for a cleansing is indeed happening.