Hey friends, it’s almost that time — August 1, release date for the long-awaited Book 1 in my new Golden State Trilogy! And to satisfy your curiosity, here’s a peek at the cover:
To see what the book is about, click here. Then leave a comment below. I’ll choose one commenter at random to receive a gift copy on August 1. And be sure to let your friends know, too.
What will our nation look like without fathers? Click on the link below for one writer’s grim take. It’s not pretty.
This mother is just a shell of a person, like most narcissists. I bet Dr. Phil wanted to wring her neck. I wanted to say, “Repeat after me…It’s clear I screwed up and I’m terribly sorry.” I had to apologize to my own kids SO many times.
In Beauty for Ashes Part I, I promised you a visual example of God’s ability to make something spectacular out of lowly ashes. As I mentioned in my post, it’s fairly close to home. Mt. Mazama, tucked into the Cascade Range in Oregon, is even more beautiful as a crater than she must have been 6,000 years ago as a mountain.
Isn’t it amazing how God can take a barren wreck and turn it into a work of art?
Q. How many narcissists does it take to change a lightbulb?
A. Only one, but he has to wait for the whole world to revolve around him.
Those of us raised by narcissist parent(s) sometimes use humor to band-aid the pain. What do you use to cover the pain? For many years, I used alcohol. But I thank the Lord for the counseling I received during my recovery that opened my eyes. Twenty years ago, I hadn’t yet labelled the role I was forced into as scapegoating, one of the offshoots of narcissistic abuse. But you don’t need a label to recognize mistreatment.
How I wish abusive parents understood the following diagram:
Abused Children—> Mean, angry adults/Substance abusers—> Child abusers—> The Incarcerated.
See the vicious cycle? Abused children grow up mean and angry. They are more likely to abuse drugs and alcohol, and even abuse their own children. Often leading to incarceration.
Instead of Imagining no more heaven (a tragic visual), imagine no more abuse. Now that will be heaven!
I’ll close with the following quote from the attached link: “..behind closed doors, all pretense falls away. Only you, their child, knows what it’s like to endure their cold shoulders for days on end over a minor infraction, or bear the brunt of constant, age-inappropriate demands for perfection and strength. You know what it’s like to be parented by a narcissist.”
For your Maker is your husband; The Lord of hosts is His name. (Isaiah 54:5).
If you’re a single parent, do you sometimes find it hard to attend church or other public events, because you know you’ll see all these happily married/taken couples everywhere you look? Sometimes it’s easier just to stay home.
The Lord knew how we’d feel, even 3,000 years before we were born. Because He came up with Isaiah 54.5. True, He’s talking to the nation of Israel, yet I’ve always found it a comforting verse. “But I want a husband with skin on,” you say. “Someone I can snuggle with at night.”
I wish I could tell you that God has one for you. I don’t know if He does or not. Which brings up a pet peeve of mine from my single-parenting days: well-meaning folks who claimed God had someone just for me. How presumptuous. There is no way a mere human can possibly know what God has planned for someone else.
But until He does send Mr. Perfect-for-you, cling to God as your husband. I’ve found His presence just as comforting as any man’s. Plus, He’s altogether perfect. Not merely Mr. Perfect-for-you. God can read your mind. A human husband can’t, as we’ve all found out the hard way. His love runs deeper and wider than the ocean, more intense than any man’s.
My kindness shall not depart from you. (Isaiah 54:10)
Solo Mama: Oh, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Shh, don’t tell them, but I sign them up for activities from morning ‘til night! That way they have no time to get in trouble.
For instance, after school they have softball or soccer or track practice. Sometimes it’s a game or a meet. Then it’s time for dinner, which one of them is assigned to prepare on a rotating basis. However, as they’ve gotten older, that’s pretty hit or miss. After dinner is Boy Scouts for the sons, or music lessons for the daughter. They have about an hour before bed to do homework. And another day is gone!
B: Wow, you must be busy with trying to work full-time as well.
SM: I love my job. I have a meme at my desk that says, “Work: The place you go to escape your hectic home life.” So true.
B: Do you ever get time for yourself?
SM: Weekends are “me” time. They go to their dad’s every Saturday night and come home Sunday evenings. During the divorce, he and I stayed as amicable as possible. You know, it’s far better to lose a little “stuff” than it is to make a lifetime enemy. I know too many divorced mothers who are teaching their kids to hate their dad. Unless he’s a criminal or an abuser, DON’T DO THAT. And even if he is, please don’t teach them hate. Don’t you think we have too much hate in the world already? Yes, explain to your kids that their father did wrong and they have permission to sever their ties with him if he has hurt them. But at the same time, don’t express bitterness toward him. If you need to vent about him, be sure your kids are not around. You know the saying, attitudes are caught as well as taught.
B: Well, that’s all we have time for now. We will continue this interview tomorrow, when Solo Mama will reveal her number one secret for keeping her sanity.
Many years ago, my three-year-old son discovered a love for food preparation. He’d come up with all kinds of concoctions. Here’s one of them:
½ gallon of milk
2/3 quart chocolate milk powder
Approx 8 tbsp salt
¼ can of pepper
¼ jar of onion powder
½ box of petit fours
In a saucepan, mix all ingredients together on medium-high heat, stir, and enjoy. Note: In order to capture every subtle flavor of each ingredient, it is EXTREMELY IMPORTANT to prepare before 6:00 am, before anyone else is up. I promise it will fill your home with a mysterious yet enticing scent, and will bring the rest of the family scurrying to the kitchen.
Doesn’t that look scrumptious? A half-gallon of milk mixed with chocolate powder sounds like a promising beginning, doesn’t it? Funny how life can imitate recipes. In my own case, life as a single parent started out not so bad. Once I rid my home of my alcoholic husband’s toxic influence, the atmosphere lightened as if the house itself breathed a big sigh of relief.
But then life threw a lot of salt into the mix. And way too much pepper. One of my sons began getting in trouble at school for disruptive behavior, and he was only 6 years old. His grades nosedived and his behavior grew increasingly unruly as the long year wore on. As this was happening, another son, the chef wannabe, was diagnosed with delayed development.
Sweet had turned to bitter.
I had eliminated one problem – abusive husband – but had acquired umpteen more. Child support was erratic, at best. Financial problems, like onion powder, is only tolerable in small doses.
Life had turned into a disaster that made me gag.
I decided I needed a way to sweeten up my life, and came up with the perfect solution: a delicious new romance! A purely selfish, yet pleasurable way to make life bearable again.
Of course, it didn’t work. Petit fours soaked in salt, pepper and onions aren’t so tasty anymore. Neither is romance when the rest of life isn’t working.
But here I am, twenty years later, my sanity still intact—at least, I hope it is. My son the aspiring chef is on the verge of graduating from college. My unruly son made it through school and has been on his own for many years.
So, you might wonder, how did I get from there to here?
It’s a long story, one I’ll have to save for next time. But it’s a testament to God’s grace. His merciful concern for the widow and the orphan.
Be sure to come back for the rest of the story.
~~Dawn V. Cahill~~