Mental Health – Page 14 – The Dolly Mama

Redeeming Hypnopompia

Posted on October 14, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“This is my Son, Whom I love. In Him I am well-pleased.” (God the Father)

How do you wake up each morning? Slowly, stunned and disoriented? In a panic, your heart racing? Do you set an alarm and jump out of bed or hit the snooze button over and over? Do your thoughts feel dull or does your mind immediately race to all that you have to accomplish? No matter how it happens, there seems to be a tiny window between being fully asleep and fully awake, those brief moments (or even seconds) when it’s somewhat in the middle of the two. Experts call it hypnopompia (which roughly means “to lead out of sleep”) or liminal space. It’s the precious time before you’ve accomplished anything.

To be honest, the very first thing I’ve done for a long time is reach for my phone. After all, the “EstherGizer Bunny” has much to achieve and I can check my emails, weather, social media, to-do list and FitBit sleep status right away (I actually have to sleep correctly too…what are we coming to?). I can start my day on the right foot, alert and organized. I can even check off some of those pressing tasks on my to-do list with my pillow still under my head. I have no time for this liminal space. It’s no wonder I wake up with heart racing and in a panic. Who wouldn’t?

Until about a month ago. I started to read Tish Harrison Warren’s book, Liturgy of the Ordinary. She speaks of these fleeting, fuzzy moments upon waking. “Whether we’re children or heads of state, we sit in our pajamas for a moment, yawning, with messy hair and bad breath, unproductive, groping toward the day.” We have yet to do anything. Who are we in those moments? Who am I in that space, without my never-ending to-do list and my hope to “get-‘er-done?”

Tish brings me back to the story of Jesus Himself. A gentle reminder. He lived 30 years as a regular guy in a regular town in a regular job. No one would say His life was earth-shattering. 10/11ths of His life on our spinning globe are barely recorded. Certainly not much of any import. And at the end of three decades and before his “big three years,” as He was being baptized, a simple dove flew over Him…DON’T MISS THIS…and the voice of His Father shouted words of APPROVAL over Him, “This is my Son, Whom I love. With Him, I am well-pleased.” This was all before what many would deem “world-changing.”

He was APPROVED of and loved before He ACCOMPLISHED anything.

This beautiful and hard-to-soak-in new idea is redeeming my hypnopompic time. I spoke with a friend who sets an alarm clock 20 minutes before the “real” one goes off so that she can spend that cozy, quiet space resting in the notion that she is completely loved and approved of by God before she earns anything. Amazing! It’s all the same for Jesus, my friend and FOR ME!

I am APPROVED of and loved before I ACCOMPLISH anything!

So tomorrow morning (and hopefully all the mornings after that…or at least more of them) before you get your head together, before you check your phone and respond to some urgent request, before you shower and primp, and before you head into your day’s activities where you will accomplish many things, take those fleeting, fuzzy moments (and hopefully I will too) receiving God’s unending and unchanging love and APPROVAL for you.

Soon enough, you will be about your morning. Brushing your teeth. Checking your phone. Helping loved ones out the door. Putting a load of endless laundry in. Heading off to your endeavors. Your day will be filled with all kinds of earning: your paycheck, your friends’ approval, your spot in the grocery store line, your promotion, even your own standards.

As we wake with messy hair and bad breath, let’s “lead ourselves out of sleep” with the gentle, loving approval God wants to pour over us as we start our day.

“Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have placed my trust in you. Show me the way to go, for to you I entrust my life.” (Psalm 143:8)

From my heart to yours.

As always, feel free to like, comment or share! Especially out on social media (or here)!

Charity, clean water, Faith, Thanks

From the Fantastic to the Ordinary (#iwanttobuildashrine #rwanda)

Posted on October 7, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“Honeymoon experiences cannot be sustained. We must always return to the ordinary.” (Richard Rohr)

I am still trying to wrap my head and my heart around the fantastic, incredible, extra-ordinary, unbelievable, “other-worldly” experience I had in Rwanda. There really are no words in our English language able to capture it in its fullness. You know what I’m talking about. You’ve had these times as well where it feels like it’s too almost too sacred to share.

I go from energy to exhaustion within the same moment. I am energized because a new village has clean water to drink. I can see and hear the girls jumping rope with their new gift from America and dancing as water pours out from the brand new pump. However, I am exhausted because people are still wearing their same dirty clothes day after day and school girls don’t have access to feminine hygiene products, much less a private place at school when it’s their “time of the month.” They have to stay home for the week, thwarting their learning and the prospect of a better life.

My heart wants to go back and stay here all at once. Here in New Jersey, I have people I love, conveniences (like wifi that actually works consistently), and a bed that welcomes me (without a mosquito net). But in Rwanda, there are new friends that I love and already miss, the simplicities of a slower pace without the constant dinging of cell phones, and a night sky filled with unhindered stars shining brightly.

I miss the excitement of my team and our trip yet I am happy for the silence of my kitchen in this moment. There couldn’t have been a better group of people to travel with. Our persons varied widely: silly and serious, introverts and extroverts (#meandnatalie), newbies to world travel and those who have lived all over the globe, young parents to grandparents, singles and married. We laughed at ourselves in all our Americanness and shed tears for and with each other, sharing how our hearts had been changed forever because of this precious time spent. We danced in the afternoon and sat bleary-eyed at the early breakfast table, We played soccer and sang praise songs, gave hygiene lessons and carried pipes. We did our best to be utterly flexible while our “used-to-being-in-control” selves took a much-needed break. Yet, now, I am happy for the normal, everyday life where I can take stock of these moments and process how I have been shaken on the inside, never to be the same. It’s just my computer and me in my kitchen in my home, all activity quieted for the moment.

I met some of the brightest and kindest people serving their local community with Living Water International. Graciously, they allowed us the opportunity to actually hold the drill rig in our own non-calloused hands. I danced with local church leaders who care day-in and day-out for the poorest members of their villages. I stood in awed silence as one woman prayed for me as she squeezed my hand intermittently during the time given to the task. I spoke with a government sanitation minister about her efforts to have working toilets in the schools (the funny thing being that the toilet in her government building actually over-flowed after I used it). Tears flowed as I left them behind, yet hope sprang because they continue to do the work after I am gone. We are connected not in body anymore, but still in vision and heart.

I want to do something more, not waste my experience, make it count. I don’t want to go back to my ordinary life of sending emails, brushing my teeth and getting my car fixed. I want to buy a cow for three people that I met. I want to write blog posts that the world will read. I want to make a slide show, a scrapbook, something so that I won’t forget, and neither will others. I want to capture it and hold on tightly.

But when it comes down to it, I am probably not buying a cow for anyone. It might be not the wisest thing to do. I also have had a really hard time writing down exactly what I experienced even though I have tried many moments. Even looking at my pics and videos (and I know some of them are here in this post), they just don’t do the trip justice. I’ve tried to share them, but they don’t really capture the beauty of the rolling hills or the sheer joy of the people met. You know. You get it. You’ve had these experiences too.

Processing some of it out (at least for now), I realized that I just want to build a shrine out of this mountaintop experience like the three disciples did when they saw Jesus being transfigured during their literal mountaintop experience (READ IT HERE) . After all, they had just encountered something fantastic, incredible, extra-ordinary, unbelievable, “other-worldly.” I’m with Peter. Why not build at least some tents, something more permanent, so everyone could live there? Why not have at least a blog post, a video documentary, something concrete to hold on to so that no one would ever forget?

But Jesus surprisingly and gently says to them, “Don’t talk about it right now.” As Richard Rohr reminded me this week (Check out his whole article HERE), “Jesus knew that talking too soon would only weaken the experience. Silence seems necessary to preserve the sacred and the mysterious.”

Obviously, I have not been completely silent (I am Esther Goetz after all). Here you are, reading this blog post that I have written. It’s my third one (here are ONE and TWO). However, I have found myself fumbling for thoughts, words and images to share here and with family and friends. And no matter what I’ve tried, I sense that I’m holding back and not really wanting to speak about it very much. Now I have a small glimpse as to why. Richard Rohr is wise. Jesus is even wiser. He has invited me on a sacred journey meant just for me FOR NOW. He has lovingly thwarted me from “building a shrine” and living there in the extra-ordinary, mountaintop place. He has reminded me that yes, the fantastic has its purpose. It shakes us to the core. It shouts loudly to our souls. It changes us forever. Thank God for the fantastic.

However, we can’t stay there. Nor should we. Even though this week, I have really wanted to. Coming back off the mountaintop back down into the ordinary is just as crucial for us, for me. It must be. Most of our time is spent here. Our hushed, behind-the-scenes, gentle, seemingly dull moments are not wasted. They are essential. For it’s in those very ordinary moments that turn into days that form weeks and months and years, that a lifetime of long-lasting redemption takes place. We are truly changed forever.

Thank you again, Rwanda, your people and your land are beautiful. Your redemption story is almost unfathomable. Because of the light you shine, our world and my heart are much brighter!! Again, I say, Murakoze Rwanda!!!

Charity, clean water, Thanks, Third Culture Kid

Dear President Kagame of Rwanda,

Posted on October 2, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“In all my travels, I’ve never seen a country’s population more determined to forgive, and to build and succeed than in Rwanda.” (Pastor Rick Warren)

Dear Mr. Kagame,

I visited your country this past week. It was the first time I had ever been to Rwanda. When I was growing up and then a young mother, your country was constantly in the news, and not for good reasons. There was strife among your people groups and the politics that surrounded them and then ultimately horrific genocide in the spring of 1994. Even I, an American child growing up in war-torn Ethiopia during the 1970s, would have been terrified to visit.

That was not the case about a year ago when I was invited to go on a clean water trip to your “Land of a Thousand Hills,” something I learned this past week was more true than I imagined. I was elated at the idea and said a hearty “yes.” About three years ago, having heard the basic story of the healing journey your people have embarked on for the past 20+ years, I became intrigued with your country and felt a pull to experience it personally and in detail. Yes, I wanted to bring clean water, but more so, I longed to learn and know your people and their stories of utter heartache and unexplainable hope.

Your country that is now known for its clean streets and touristy treks to encounter mountain gorillas descended into the dark hole of savagery in 1994, only 24 short years ago. Your nation was shattered beyond recognition. Your people turned on their neighbors, their friends, their own families. They murdered innocent men, women and children, leaving behind a completely decimated economy and environment, destroying themselves from the inside out. This genocide lasted 100 days and over 1,000,000 (roughly one out of every seven) of your beautiful Rwandans lost their lives.

When it was all over, there was a crucial decision that had to be made. What do you do with a nation where 70% of your children personally witnessed the killing or injuring of a family member, 80% lost somebody in their household and 90% were afraid they were the next to die? What do you do with a country where so many were perpetrators and even more were victims? What do you do when all the light goes out and darkness appears to have definitively prevailed?

Only the most ludicrous option remained for your countrymen: the excruciating, very personal and communal passage towards repentance, grace, forgiveness, reconciliation and restoration. Under your humble and wise leadership, your brave people began their continuing journey towards hope and healing. This incredible and very rare approach to this cruel tragedy provided the essential environment where each man, woman and child who remained could experience life and love again, in all their fullness. Children could go to school. Parents could raise their crops and their families. Rwandan’s businesses could thrive. Your country could move from tragedy to triumph.

You have come a long way in just these 24 years. Your country is beautiful, the rolling hills once stained with blood, now dotted with crops and livestock. Your streets are exceptionally clean, unlike anything I’ve seen. Your people, adults and children alike, are filled with joy. Your neighborhoods are safe. Your unity and respect for each other, from the highest nobleman to the lowest pauper, abounds. Your visible equality among men and women in places of authority and leadership is highly telling of the mutual, inner esteem you have for each other. Your desire to become the first African nation where 100% of your people have access to clean water reveals the spirit of hope and excitement that I witnessed in spades. From your bustling capital of Kigali to the poorest, remote village where we dug our well, positivity and hope-filled energy permeated each person we met.

We were welcomed with bright smiles, waves and shouts of “Muzungu” (look that up on Google, you readers) as we rode past adults and children performing their daily tasks of fetching clean water, transacting business in the marketplace and taxiing their neighbors on the backs of bicycles and motorbikes. Never for a moment did I feel as if I was not wanted there. As I very sadly pondered your blood-stained streets only a few short years ago, I witnessed first-hand the miracle of this very “other-worldly” and one-of-a-kind route you and your people have taken.

Instead of revenge, you have given each other forgiveness. Instead of continuing hatred, you have learned to “love your neighbor as yourself.” Instead of war, you have an authentic peace that surpasses all human understanding. Instead of continuous destruction, there is marked restoration. I do not say this lightly. It’s palpable.

It’s as close as my eyes that saw church and political leaders working together, diligently creating plans to help the least of their countrymen. It’s as close as my ears that heard joyful singing of villagers as we watched together the water spurt out of the dry ground. It’s as close as my mouth that tasted the delicious fruits of your harvest, from bananas to coffee, sweet potatoes to cassava. It’s as close as my nose that relished the unique smells of the bustling city of Kigali to the rural countryside of the Ruhango District. It’s as close as my arms that received hugs and high-fives from soccer players and church goers, government workers and school children, the wise elders and the curious children. More completely, it’s as close as my deeply-transformed soul that I carry with me out of your beloved land.

From the bottom of my heart, I salute you and your people. You have courage beyond my comprehension. You have chosen great love in the face of extreme difficulty. Each one of you shines like a bright beacon in our dark world. Thank you. My heart has captured your dream to bring clean water to every Rwandan father, mother and child and wish to make your vision a reality: “hope for the hopeless, rest for the weary and love for a broken heart.” Godspeed, Mr. Kagame!

Esther Goetz

PLEASE CLICK HERE FOR OTHER THOUGHTS ON MY TRIP TO RWANDA!

*If you liked this, please go onto social media and give me a thumbs up or a like. This one especially shares my heart and it would mean a lot to me.*

Charity, clean water, Thanks

Murakoze Rwanda (No Words…Yet)

Posted on October 1, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“Water changes everything.”

Charity, Childhood, Faith, Mental Health, Third Culture Kid

My Childhood Jesuses (What are Yours?)

Posted on September 9, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“If Jesus was Jewish, did He believe in Himself?” (Josh Goetz – 6)

It all started with “Get-Out-of-Hell Free” Jesus, the earliest one I can remember. This Jesus gets “asked into your heart” and then when you die, you get saved from the fiery torment of an eternal damnation in a very literal place called hell.

Before you click away because you are worried that I am going to be marching down the path to preach a hell, fire and brimstone blog post, calm your hearts. We’re just taking a little ride together. 🙂

I am reading a very light-hearted, yet serious-at-the-same-time book called Stolen Jesus. One day, the author, Jami Amerine, notices that the portrait of Jesus at her local YMCA lobby is gone. Finding out that He is now relegated to “behind the filing cabinet,” she sneaks Him out and hangs Him over her mantel at home, thus the title of the book. She goes on to unpack all of her Jesuses (including Mormon Jesus, High School Jesus and Michigan Jesus), filling my mind with all of my own Jesuses.

Two weeks ago, I would have told you that I know Jesus pretty well. I’ve got a pretty good handle on who and what He is and who and what He is not. I’ve spent a lifetime figuring Him out. After spending some much-needed time with Jami Amerine delving into all my different Jesuses, I’m thinking, “Maybe not.” After all, the Jesus I believed in when I was three, eight, 12, 19, 28, 41 and 50ish are all completely different and some even contradictory. Is He none of them? Perhaps.

Childhood Jesuses formed hard and deep for me. They continue to be a part of who I am today, some I long to embrace further and others I wish I could banish. I would imagine you have your own. Here is a glimpse into some of mine:

Get-Out-of-Hell Free Jesus
I asked Jesus into my heart every night for my whole childhood. If you didn’t have Him in there, you were going to burn in a “lake of fire” forever and ever. That was super scary. Who wants that? I certainly didn’t. At the end of most days, I was never sure if I had done it right or meant it based on my troubling behavior earlier in the day, so the cycle continued endlessly. Poor Jesus. He was not a lot more than the best fire insurance a very frightened child could muster up. (Little known fact: this ended when 12-year old Esther wrote down the “date” I finally meant it in my Bible: January 25, 1979. It was for sure this time. God help me.)

Boarding School Jesus (also known as Verse Group Jesus and Behavior-Management Jesus)
Every morning during my boarding school years, we were wakened and marched downstairs to some room (even before breakfast…but my memory might be a little fuzzy here) to memorize verses. We got a prize at the end of the semester (lunch out at the local airport…big deal for this “never-eat-out” tot) for memorizing them all. After all, “hiding these verses in our heart” would ensure that we would “not sin against” God (see Psalm 119:11 to get the picture) or more happily for our dorm parents and teachers, not sin against them. It was an amazing “behavior management” technique. (Quiet thought circling in my head: Little Esther was good at this. Especially on the outside. Maybe not so much the inside.)

Aslan Jesus
It’s crazy how you can have simultaneous Jesuses that are nothing alike. At the same time as Verse Group Jesus, I had another Jesus. Many nights, after being fed and washed up, I listened to the Chronicles of Narnia being read by our dorm mother. Enter Aslan Jesus. He was a kind and gracious lion who loved and took great care of children, playing with them and even dying for them, even one of them who betrayed Him. He seemed like the kind of Jesus and friend that I wanted and so desperately needed, very different from the first two that I had learned about or conjured up in my head. I wished he was real. I loved him. Who wouldn’t? (Secret: I still love Aslan Jesus. He’s a keeper.)

Bible Quiz Team Jesus
When I was a very nerdy high schooler, I belonged to a Bible quiz team. We would memorize entire books of the Bible and compete with other teams for a chance to go to the National Tournament. It happened all four years for me. In fact, I was ranked the “#1 Bible Quizzer in the USA” my senior summer! It’s probably the only time in my life I was the actual “master of the trade,” not just the “jack.” I performed superbly. I was highly rewarded for it. This Jesus loved me. I was acceptable in His eyes. I had finally proved my worth to Him. (Another secret: This Jesus has pestered me to this day. I daily battle with this Jesus.)

What we believe about Jesus is paramount to how we live and love. If we believe He’s out to get us, we may be afraid of Him. If we believe His goal is to keep us in line, we will probably avoid Him (I was the queen avoider for years). If we believe He accepts us only when we are “good,” we may perform well, but we also may feel like it’s never enough. On the contrary, if we truly believe He loves and cares for us, and understand that in the core of our souls, we will have safety and freedom to love and respond in kind.

I have a lot more Jesuses that formed during my adult years, some I will speak of in another post. Again, just like my childhood Jesuses, there are some I long to cling to and dive deeper with and some that don’t describe the Real Jesus at all and that I should run far away from.

I am still on my adventure to get to know the Real Jesus, the One who isn’t bound by all my experiences and thoughts and frailties, the One Who is completely Himself. I hope you are too. I do know one thing for sure: I won’t be disappointed when I know Him fully! It might take the rest of my life and even into forever for this to happen, but He will be worth it! I love this journey with Him!

We all have different Jesuses. Who are your childhood Jesuses? I really hope you respond here by commenting or let me know on Facebook, Instagram, Linked In or Twitter. I would love that so much! Please like my posts out on social media (but only if you like them…LOL). It helps it to move into people’s newsfeeds and I can get the word out to more folks!

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Family, Marriage, Mental Health, Uncategorized

Make a Marriage Great Again (Part Seven of Ten) – Fight Fire with Fire

Posted on August 26, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“Conflict creates the fire of affects and emotions; and like every fire it has two aspects: that of burning and that of giving light.” (Carl Jung)

Allen and I have our fair share of FIGHTS (the seventh F in the series). We are certainly NOT the couple who can say, “We never argue. We agree on everything.” Nor do we want to be (well, Allen wants to be secretly).

Allen is kind and gracious. I am sarcastic and I like to say, discerning (others may call me a bit judgmental). Allen is a hard-worker, quiet and reserved. I am quick-witted and loud. He is methodical and analytical. I am passionate and decisive. Allen is a supporter and a peacemaker. I am a leader and aggressive. As you can see, blending our personalities lends itself to conflict. It is inevitable.

We bicker about (super important things like) how to pack the car, load the dishwasher, and fold the laundry. I hear myself saying just last night, “I’ve told you not to fold my dresses. They just go on a hanger. You are wasting your time.” (I know, ladies. The man was folding the laundry and I still had something to say about it.)

We argue about more serious things like where to spend our money, how to handle the latest “children issue” and what to fill our calendars with, the things of life that have big implications. There’s just no way around it.

We also have more tender “discussions” about how we’ve been hurt, misunderstood, and disrespected by the other. These stem from places of abandonment and shame, and our lack of the ability to “stay with the uncomfortable” parts of ourselves. Allen has an especially hard time with this, deeply desiring the absence of conflict. It does not make him feel safe inside or out. On the other hand, I love exposing all our shadowy parts (or maybe just his if I’m truthful) and bringing them out into the open for the gaping wound to sometimes fester and other times heal. Allen tends to be the avoider. I am the chaser. I fight and he flees when we feel threatened.

For many years, we had no idea that all this conflict CAN actually lead to intimacy (being fully-known and fully-loved). But it CAN also lead to disconnection. The trick is knowing HOW to argue, how to fight fair. Allen’s calm and quiet during our times of conflict appears like marital harmony, but without resolution, the problem just brews beneath the surface. My love of “getting it out into the open” many times degenerates into insults and harm. This breeds the perfect environment for disconnection.

Dr. Gottman, the expert marriage researcher, says that how a couple handles conflict is directly related to how likely they are to have a happy marriage. There are four disastrous ways of interacting that will cripple attempts to resolve conflict, one feeding into the next (he calls them the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse): criticism, contempt, defensiveness and stonewalling. They are the FIRE that destroys.

Complaining (not to be confused with endless nagging – Allen likes the idea of challenging the status quo) is a healthy marital activity. It’s not pleasant, but it brings things into the light. Many times, and this is where I personally struggle, it crosses the line to CRITICISM. Criticism involves attacking someone’s person, rather than their behavior. Complaints usually start with the word “I” and criticism with the word “you.” For example, “I wish we spent more time together” is a complaint. “You never spend time with me” is a criticism. Criticism produces blame and multiplies shame, never resulting in closeness.

CONTEMPT brings criticism to a whole new level. Many times, criticism, as bad as it is, is born from a place of frustration. It tends to be a “crime” of passion. Contempt is a clear “premeditated” attempt to harm your partner. Its aim is to cause pain. No matter if you have been married for four days or forty years, this monster sucks away every positive feeling spouses have for one another. It appears in the form of name-calling, hostile humor (sarcasm) and straight up mockery. I always associate it with the “rolling of the eyes.” This is the most dangerous “horseman.”

Once contempt has entered the picture, each of us has a natural inclination to defend ourselves. In fact, DEFENSIVENESS can result even from proper forms of communication like complaining, especially if there is unresolved shame in either party. However, it is completely natural to resort to this place when there is CRITICISM and especially when CONTEMPT has taken hold. This being said, defensiveness only escalates a conflict instead of resolving it. Denying responsibility and making excuses only separates a couple further.

The last horseman is STONEWALLING. Allen struggles with this. Overwhelmed by emotions, his natural inclination is to withdraw, protect himself. Even though it might look on the surface like “peace-making,” it actually is a very powerful act, conveying disapproval. The example that comes to mind is when one of us “stops talking” to the other. When this happens, the ability to connect is seriously thwarted and intimacy is beyond reach.

All this sounds so horrible and hard and probably completely relatable. Even writing this is making me a little discouraged. I need a little good news, how about you?

There is great HOPE! All of those horseman come into every marriage, even happy ones at some point or another, especially when there is intense marital conflict. But they don’t have to be the norm. Just like fires can bring harm and destruction, they can also produce light and warmth.

Conflict in marriage can be the fire that produces light and warmth. It can bring life and vitality into a relationship. It is the price you pay to have deeper intimacy. WE CAN FIGHT FIRE WITH FIRE! Here are basic “rules” (not a huge fan of that word) that govern how to move from harm to healing:

DON’T RUN
Bottling things up and burying them just makes the “cork pop” at some point. The problem hasn’t gone away. Instead, take some time away if you need to with the promise that you will come back together when cooler heads prevail over heated emotions. This has been huge for us. When Allen says “Let’s come back later,” I am able to “let things go for now” knowing there will be resolution.
CHOOSE YOUR BATTLES
This goes back to probably 85% of our arguments about how to squeeze the toothpaste tube, mow the lawn, etc. Allen and I have wasted a lot of time and energy here.
GET TO THE HEART OF THE MATTER
Drs. Les and Leslie Parrot, marriage counselors, teach couples the X, Y, Z formula to help them state their true feelings, “In situation X, when you do Y, I feel Z.” This gives room for you to state how your partner’s behavior affects your feelings. This is when “I” statements, instead of “you” statements, come into play. This helps to diffuse defensiveness and provide a place of safety.
NO LOW-BLOWS
Never “throw back in their face” something your spouse has shared with you in a place of vulnerability and confidentiality. In the heat of an argument, this is a quick “go-to,” but will break trust and humiliate the other. Nothing enhances feelings of shame more than this.
IS IT THE RIGHT TIME?
This is especially helpful when working through the bigger things that may need to be sorted out over the long-haul. I have had to learn this the hard way. I want to rush through and fix things right away (like the minute it pops into my head). Allen has taught me to be patient and gracious here. Instead of my normal MO (mode of operation), I ask instead, “I have something bothering me. When is a good time to talk about it?”
AVOID MIND-READING
Be careful to believe the best about the other’s intentions and be open to learning whether or not you are right or wrong. Mind-reading assumes the worst about someone and can be a strategy of self-protection. If I have Allen “all figured out” (and I’m not usually thinking the best), what room is there for him to share his heart? This shuts down communication and blocks intimacy.
STAY ON TOPIC
Stick to the relevant issue that you are discussing. Don’t veer off course, bringing up everything the person has done wrong in the last five years. Refocus when things get off course. Be careful of this slippery slope.
TWO EARS, ONE MOUTH
Listen. Plain and simple. But not that easy. Have the goal of understanding where the other person is coming from. This is so hard. I’m not sure why. We want so desperately to be understood. Give the gift you long for to the other. Hear with your heart. Be careful not to fix. Sometimes, silence is your spouse’s best friend (something super hard for this chatterbox). “I hear you” have been three of the most powerful words I’ve ever said or heard.
ADMIT YOUR PART
I have a huge barrier when it comes to saying I am wrong. I can see so clearly how Allen is “completely in the wrong about everything” (note sarcastic tone here). This comes for me from a place of pride (“I’m better than you”). For Allen, it comes from a place of shame (“You’re better than me”). We both struggle here for different reasons, neither one of them good. Understanding the back story of our own reactions is HUGE here. When we understand that we both have infinite value and worth, “I’m sorry” becomes much easier because we can take responsibility for our actions without blame and shame.
FORGIVE
Feeding off the compassion we now have for ourselves (and our spouses) that comes straight from God’s heart for us provides real room for forgiveness, “giving up my right to hurt you for hurting me.” We all fail. We all need forgiveness. Giving to the other what we will eventually need brings true healing. (This is a huge topic, one to be talked about at a later date.)

I keep coming back to the image of fire. “Keep the fires burning” and “Keep the flame alive” are mantras for good marriage. Fire destroys or gives light. Conflict is the same. Fighting harms or heals, brings intimacy or disconnection. I’m sure another “discussion” is right around the corner for Allen and me. May we fight the FIRES of destruction and harm with the FIRES that bring light and healing!

If you’ve made it this far, can you go back to Social Media and “like” it (but only if you do like it…LOL)!

CHECK OUT THE FIRST SIX “Fs”

Family, Grandparenthood, Mental Health

The EstherGizer Bunny

Posted on August 19, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“What’s your reason for waking up every morning?” (Huffington Post)

I lay in the dark, my grandson’s eyelashes brushing against my neck as I held him close. Only moments before, I had been power-washing a fence and had heard his cries over the monitor. “Not yet, Broden,” I thought, “I have much to do.”

This has been my cry for as long as I can remember. “Not yet, ___________ (fill in the blank with any given human in my life). I have much to do.” I am a doer, a cross-it–off-my-list person, and proud of all that I accomplish in a day. My daughter, Sarah, calls me the “EstherGizer Bunny,” hence the blog post title. I can accomplish more in a day than most can in a week. It’s just true.

But today, that is not to be. I have about 10 things I could be doing, all big projects that will supposedly “save the world,” including writing a meaningful blog post, organizing Sarah and Cody’s garage, making nutritious meals for Sarah as she goes back to school this week in her new position as a second grade teacher, writing another chapter in the book I am writing (BIG REVEAL IN ABOUT A YEAR), yada yada yada.

Today, I choose what my heart truly cries for. I choose to stop saying “Not yet, _________.” I choose love. I choose holding Broden in the dark. I choose relationship over task. I choose dancing with Allen at the wedding of a friend tonight. I choose being present to people over checking boxes. I actually choose myself. Those to do items will get done or THEY DON’T HAVE TO (good news for my EstherGizer Bunny heart).

If you need more today, read my Go with the Slow (I Love Turtles) post. It was a great reminder for me once again as I was writing this. It puts the EstherGizer Bunny right back where she is supposed to be.

Anxiety, Charity, Faith, Mental Health, Word of the Year

Shattered Shalom (restoring it…in my home and in our world)

Posted on July 27, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“True peace is not merely the absence of tension; it is the presence of justice.” (Martin Luther King, Jr.)

If you asked me even five months ago what I thought peace meant, I summed it up as “the absence of conflict.” In fact, a quick search on Google backed me up on this. My husband also cheered this idea in spades. He loves an atmosphere where everyone gets along (how one Facebook friend defined it), especially us. It’s like heaven to him. Having a house with four very unique and spirited children did not lend itself to this. The constant conflict and fighting sent us to our beds exhausted many nights. I would mutter to myself (and sometimes scream loudly to my kids which, if you take a second, is pretty ironic), “Just a few moments of peace is all I’m asking!! Is it too much?” I know I don’t have to talk any further without a bunch of nods of the head, muttered “mm-hmms” and loud “AMENS!”

Whether it’s the constant arguing of politicians and political analysts on “news” shows, gut-wrenching war across our world, bickering among children or family members over the latest “who-knows-what,” co-workers disagreeing over how a project needs to be done, or late-into-the-night discord (or should I say straight-up fights) among spouses, it is just plain tiring. No wonder we want some peace. Some quiet. Some “everyone-just-get- along-please” moments. We are saturated with it all day long.

YES, THAT IS MY SON AND HIS SOCCER TEAM AT HIS SENIOR PASTA PARTY!

Sorry for the diversion. Back to the blog post. I think you understand my point.

ALL.

DAY.

LONG.

To combat it and try to find some measure of inner calm, I find myself doing one of four things: fighting, running, avoiding, or just standing there with a blank stare not knowing what to do next. This is the natural response from our human bodies when we feel threatened and overwhelmed. It’s our “lizard brain” (as I like to refer to the amygdala) doing what it can in the moment when the adrenaline rush takes over to protect us. Psychologists refer to these responses as fight, flight, faint or freeze.

As I very feisty and passionate individual, I naturally gravitate to fighting. As we all know, this does nothing to help. It escalates the issue and then the whole house is in an uproar, hurt and angry. It becomes a mess. Allen, on the other hand, is drawn toward fleeing. He shuts down, gets quiet and goes into another room. Our kids vary on the spectrum, with some fighting, some getting quiet, some going to their room to watch TV or sleep, and some utterly dumb-founded, not knowing what to do. It makes for a little bit of a “not-so-peaceful” house.

ENTER COUNSELING and the beginning of understanding that although, in the moment, those responses are normal, they don’t restore harmony. We are working from brokenness not health.

ENTER BOOK, As We Forgive (Stories of Reconciliation from Rwanda) by Catherine Clare Larson, suggested to us by our group leader before we head to this beautiful country to dig a well in September (HUGE SHOUT OUT AND MUST READ).

ENTER VACATION with family members (nine people plus baby for seven days). Arguments and behavior patterns and all that good stuff. (You know what I mean?!) I figured out that nine people make up 36 different relationships. That’s enough to start a war.

RE-ENTER BOOK. Reminder that all of the above are really just shattered shalom (the fancy Hebrew word for peace).

I have always believed that shalom had the same meaning of peace that I had in my head. Come to find out I am missing something. A huge thing. And it just might really make the difference in my own little world with my own little group of people. But it also might make the difference in our huge world with all the groups of people (like seven billion and counting much to my son’s chagrin as he’s a little paranoid about over-population).

So what is it? What is this shalom?

SHALOM IS NOT DEFINED BY ABSENCE. Instead, it encompasses the PRESENCE of true human flourishing (my friend’s Word of the Year): socially, emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Larson reminds me that it is “ultimate harmony.” Shalom speaks of fullness, completeness and wholeness, hardly the absence of anything, except perhaps division (as another Facebook friend reminded me). In Ancient Israel (where the word comes from), when a crime was committed, the central point was not on the outer (the broken law and restoration of order), but rather on the inner (broken shalom and restoration of peace) for all involved: victim, community and even offender. It was important that ALL would flourish, all would be brought back to wholeness.

As I stated above, our human body responds to conflict in one of four ways: fight, flight, faint or freeze. We are naturally drawn to one of those responses when it comes to personal conflict. However, somewhere among attacking, running away, avoiding and becoming paralyzed lies a completely different way, one that is more difficult, but offers much in the restoration of this fuller peace, or shalom. In fact, sometimes conflict and disagreement are required to achieve it.

Really?!?

In the flight, faint or freeze responses, the focus is on “ME.” I am looking for what’s easy, convenient and non-threatening. Protecting myself becomes the highest priority. However, in the fight response the focus is on “YOU,” blaming you and expecting you to solve my problem or my pain. Again, protecting myself becomes the highest priority. The peace-making, shalom-restoring response shifts to “US.” The restoration of the relationship and the flourishing of ourselves and the other becomes the highest priority. Wholeness, fullness and completeness come to the forefront. Conflict happens and disagreements occur, but the relationship is not threatened. In fact, clashes and variance might just provide the avenue for greater wholeness than without them. The move from YOU vs. ME to US changes everything.

For this girl who tends to blame others and fight, this is really BIG. A huge change of thought. And practice. It’s not enough for me to “not have fighting,” the absence of conflict. I want more. I want wholeness and healing and true flourishing. In every area of my life. For me and for you. When I think about Jesus, the “Prince of Peace (guess what the Hebrew word is there),” this makes more sense now than ever. He doesn’t just want “quiet” for me. He wants shalom. He wants me to flourish. He wants the same for you. And he wants the same for our world. Here’s to restoring it more and more every moment and every day. I hope to start right now.

Thank you again for reading all the way to the bottom. WOW! Please like this here and especially out on social media if you can! Comment here or there as well. It means the world to me!

Faith, Family, Mental Health

Unraveling and Re-raveling (Getting Rid of the Formula)

Posted on July 22, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“Trust me. There is no formula for most things that are not math.” (Daniel Pinkwater)

godly husband + passionate wife = great marriage

great marriage + good parenting = well-behaved child

well-behaved child + right school and strong youth group = wise-choice making teen

wise-choice making teen + strong college = successful adult

successful adult + other successful adult = godly husband + passionate wife

And the formula goes round and round. Or does it?

When I was just a wee bit younger (okay, like 30 years ago, but I’m not that old, right?!), I believed wholeheartedly in the formula above. Why wouldn’t I? It’s perfect. Just do it all right, make all the right, godly choices and life goes the way it should. After all, isn’t that what I’ve heard my whole life from preachers and family and professors and authors and friends and even from my own head? Things like: “Blessed is the man who does not walk in step with the wicked…whatever he does prospers.” (Psalm 1) “We proved to ourselves that when you do things right, good things happen.” (Tom Sawyer) And my new favorite:

To say it again: just do it all right, make all the right, godly choices and life goes the way it should.

EXCEPT.

WHEN.

IT.

DOESN’T.

What happens then?

Somewhere along the line of that cute little formula, the “right” side of the equal sign fails to happen. Sometimes it goes like this:

godly husband + passionate wife = messy divorce

great marriage + good parenting – child with Oppositional Defiance Disorder

well-behaved child + right school and strong youth group = teen substance abuser

wise-choice making teens + strong college = struggling-to-find-or-keep-a-job adult

successful adult + other successful adult = distant husband + depressed wife

For many years, I counted on the formula. When it didn’t seem to be working, I just tried harder. “It must be something I’m doing wrong,” I thought. “Maybe I don’t have the equation right.” After all, there is a way to guarantee a great marriage, well-behaved children, wise-choice making teens, and successful adults, right? I read “10 Step” books. I made long prayer lists on color-coded index cards. I went to seminars and then led them. My formula-living was not limited to the above scenarios. Much of my life was permeated by this black-and-white thinking.

Until…

Until the formulas stopped working. Good people got divorced. My kids weren’t all that well-behaved at times. Many teens, including my own, made “not-so-wise” choices and some of my children’s friends struggled with addiction. Well-educated people had a hard time finding a job. Many lost their jobs. Successful people were anxious and depressed, including me. Ugh.

My idea of how the world worked came crashing down. I didn’t know what to think. Anxiety took over. Hopeless thoughts came much more than I wanted them to. I kept trying harder. It just got worse. Finally, I came completely unraveled. UNRAVELED. My carefully-built-rubber-band-ball-of-how-life-works began snapping. If not this, then what? What do I do now? How do I live? UNRAVELED.

BUT, (and I love these “buts” of life) what seemed like a tunnel without a light became just what God used for a whole new “RE-RAVELING” as Rachel Held Evans refers to it: a very different way of looking at people and relationships and what matters. I began to live in more truth and with that truth came some slow steps toward freedom.

Once the formulas were stripped away, I was invited into relationship, both with God and with others. At first, this uncertain place seemed like a curse. It would take lots more time and wisdom and there wouldn’t be simple answers. It would be complicated, messy. But as I embarked on this different journey with much trepidation, I found that it just might be a gift, and a good one at that. The truth is that life is messy and no amount of “doing the right thing” ensures complete safety and success. This might sound harsh and hopeless at first glance, but it is actually helpful and freeing. Instead of viewing life as a problem to be solved, I began to see it as a mysterious adventure to be enjoyed (kind of like action thriller enjoyment, which is kind of scary and fun all at the same time). Instead of seeking certainty, I began to pursue wisely-placed trust, trust in a wild God, One I can’t control, but One who is completely good and utterly safe. I am steadily (actually it seems to be in fits and starts) finding that as trust is developed, love thrives. And this is what I truly want. Chasing certainty is slavery; carefully-placed trust in a God who loves us is freedom.

My relationship with others slowly began to change as well. Instead of having an agenda (the sum of the equation), I began to believe that I could just BE with others, no matter where they land on the spectrum of life. This is hard for me. I really struggle with this. I have an agenda for everyone. I think I know best. I want you to change for the better. And I believe I know how you should get there. It doesn’t come from the best place. It’s because I think I am better and know better. I like a little bit (I mean a lot) of control. UGH. But as I’ve turned the tables, and the truth is told, I don’t want to be anybody else’s agenda or project. Instead of “here is what I think you should do, be, act like, etc., I love when others say, “I’m with you,” and that’s the end of it. I don’t want to feel like I’m going to the principal’s office when I am with someone. No one wants that. It creates defensiveness and hiding. However, when someone is just WITH ME in my beautiful, messy life, this unconditional love opens the door for vulnerability and trust. Change is much more likely to happen in this safe space. As Bob Goff says in his book, Love Does, this kind of “love operates more like sign language than being spoken outright.” I need more of this in my life, both ways.

The best thing for us (and our world) is to love God and love others. Formulas are not love. And to boot, they don’t work. Loving God is trusting Him, especially when things don’t go as planned. It is a trust that is wisely placed. IT BRINGS US FREEDOM. Agendas are also not love. Loving others is being with them, especially when they are not where we think they should be or want them to be. That’s a love that’s unconditional and safe. IT BRINGS THEM FREEDOM.

I am glad my rubber band ball came UNRAVELED. I am also very thankful I am on the path to RE-RAVELING. I don’t know about you, but I want to keep living in and from these places, creating safe spaces for both myself and others, filled with vulnerability, trust, love and freedom. In the end, St. Paul was so right when he wrote, “The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.” Let’s do what counts together!

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Family, Friendship, Grief

A Grief (and Celebration) Observed…A Thin Place

Posted on June 24, 2018January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“525,600 minutes. How can you measure the life of a man? It’s time now to sing out, though the story never ends. Let’s celebrate. Remember. Remember the love! Measure in love! Seasons of love!” (Rent)

Last weekend, I had the honor of speaking at a Celebration of Life for a remarkable man named Stephen Friars, who passed away suddenly. For his family and those who loved him, shock came first. Confusion quickly followed, along with anger and heartbreak. Overwhelming grief, yet glimmers of joy, memories filled with laughter, and the desire for a celebration of a man utterly-loved and a life well-lived followed. Plans were made to invite coworkers, family, and friends to a beautiful backyard to pay tribute to and honor a “too-soon-taken” brother, husband, boss, co-worker, and friend. Here are my words:

Today, we engage in one of the most complicated and sacred acts that we participate in as humans. We gather to both grieve AND celebrate the death and life of Stephen Friars, beloved brother to Gail and Gary. It might look to anyone driving by or peeking out their curious neighbor window like a typical spring barbecue, where friends are gathering to eat some grub and celebrate the latest Yankees win. But as we here know, it’s definitely not that yet it is. No, we are not celebrating the Yankees, or the Rangers, or even the Giants, but we actually are in a way, because the one we are celebrating loved those teams and we are cheering (and obviously wearing) what he loved. Go red, white and blue! (And this is a big deal for this Pittsburgh fan!)

Viewings, funerals, memorial services and celebrations of life are, like I said, one of the most complex and difficult things we take part in as humans, but also one of the most beautiful and sacred. It’s one of the times, and it’s happened today already, where we are laughing AND crying, devastated AND hopeful, and confused AND yet have the greatest clarity about what life is truly about in the same few moments. It’s one of the “thin places” the Celtic speak of, where heaven AND earth touch, even ever so briefly. It’s the place where the boundary between the divine AND human worlds becomes almost non-existent, and the two can, for a moment, dance together uninterrupted. I felt it when I held my new grandson in the early morning light that first week he was born. I felt it when I listened to Dooey sing God Bless America on the cusp of the New Year in the darkness gathered with friends on our front stoop (but I was secretly freaking out about what our neighbors thought). I feel it every year on Christmas morning. It happens when I catch a glimpse of a rainbow or listen to the guitar solo during Hotel California. You know what I’m talking about. You have your own thin places. Today, it is happening in spades. It’s these times where we listen with our souls, not just our ears, dive deeply into those parts of us that are kept quiet during the hustle and bustle of our lives, and maybe, just for a moment, feel God’s presence in a very palpable way.

Stay with me in this moment and enter into the sacred of both grief AND joy, heartache AND hope, confusion AND clarity. Why do we have all these seemingly contradictory emotions at the same time during times like this? Just like all of us, Stephen is complicated. Both his life and death are a tangled, intricate weaving of both good AND bad. And who can attest to that better than Gail and Gary, his siblings? Just take a minute and think about your own. We each know all too well both the light AND dark sides of those we shared our home with. Siblings are the people who you would kill in one moment AND die for in the next. For Gail and Gary, this tragedy has made this all come front and center. During his life, Stephen kept mostly to himself and struggled with letting others in. On the other hand, there were glimpses when he would just let himself go and have fun in the moment (WATCH THIS “Best Holiday Party Performance” if you don’t believe me). He did not have many close friends, but he was very friendly. He didn’t seem to need others, but was there when they needed him. He had a hard time expressing his love at times, but his dogs made his heart come alive. He loved them unconditionally and they loved him the same way. He struggled to be completely himself at times with his family, but he shone as a bright light and went above and beyond the call of duty both to care for and nurture his co-workers.

To be honest, Stephen’s death is just as complex. There are not a lot of answers from the doctors and from Stephen himself. It’s hard to figure out what happened, why it happened, what could have been done to prevent it and why God allowed it. There’s even anger that this is just plain old wrong. And that is the truth. It is just plain old wrong. It would have been better if all the wrongs could have been made right, all the “I love you’s” could have been mutually shared, and there would have been the “happily ever after” ending. Normally, we don’t like to talk about this hard stuff. We want to paint a picture of perfection. But that’s just not true. The truth is that each one of us, just like Stephen, are a mixture of good AND bad, wonderful AND difficult, really, as Gail spoke of, an absolutely beautiful mess.

For years, I spent my life only living (or pretending to live) in the “beautiful,” the “good”, the “happy.” I dismissed the shadowy sides of pain, difficulty, sorrow and loss. After all, that’s the American dream, “up and to the right.” But I was missing out on half of my journey. Today, I understand and try to live in that tension of embracing the thought that my life and yours and Stephen’s is comprised of all of it. That’s what makes it truly a FULL life, one where we haven’t missed out on anything!

That’s why we have grief AND joy today. Grief over the loss of ability to make all things right here and now. Grief because Stephen is gone and there is no longer a physical future to be shared together. It would be strange if there wasn’t this grief. Yet there is surprising joy at the memories shared, the funny stories that bring laughter even today. Grief AND joy. There is also heartache AND yet hope. Heartache over what might have been and will never be, yet hope at what’s to come as we believe we will see him again in the best possible place. Heartache AND hope. There is confusion AND clarity. As I spoke earlier, there is confusion over what exactly happened, what could have been done to prevent it and why God allowed it. But there is also great clarity today that life is really about love and kindness, joy and mercy, and family and friendship, which causes us to hold those we care for just a little bit tighter, make the wrongs right and speak the “I love you’s” before it’s too late. Lots of confusion AND yet undeniable clarity.

Stephen’s life-long legacy lives on in each of us, forever having changed the footprint of the world for good. He was truly one-of-a-kind, of infinite worth. We who are here and able to enjoy the future that is still with us are also utterly unique and priceless. It’s why this is all so important, this celebration. We don’t want to rush through the grief as it honors Stephen and the flowing tears continue to remind us that he is so loved and now so missed. But we also can embrace the celebration of a life well-lived, a man who, though imperfect, like each of us, was funny and kind and smart and truly and deeply loved.

One of the first questions Gail asked me that terribly sad Monday morning after Stephen passed away was what was it like for him now. After all, he had his own personal demons (as we all do), but as Dooey stated, “he was such a great guy, Esther, you would have loved him the minute you met him.” His heart for his beloved wife and his furry friends was more than evident at every turn. His coworkers obviously adored him and looked up to him and miss him terribly. He loved well and was loved in return. The answer came to me about a week later as I was passing one of those imposing billboards on the Pennsylvania Turnpike that makes me cringe every time. It shouted in bold letters: “After you die, you will meet God.” There was some phone number you could call at the bottom to get the help you need to straighten yourself out before your impending doom. After all, God is angry with you and He’s got a score to settle. It all hit me like a ton of bricks and I asked God, “Is this really what you are like? Do you want us to be afraid to meet you? It all sounds like going to the principal’s office.” In that moment, my heart settled and a gentle voice whispered to my soul. “I AM LOVE, ESTHER. Change the wording.” And so I did. “After you die, you will meet LOVE.” So different. So healing. So inviting. God longs for and invites us into a relationship filled with love. We do not have to be afraid to meet Him!

I have spent a lifetime trying to get to really know this God who created us, bestowed on each one of us, including Stephen, infinite worth and loves us, not because of who we are, but because of who He is. He can’t help Himself. He actually is LOVE. He really is. So what will it be like when we ultimately meet Him after our physical trappings are taken away? What was it like for Stephen? From what I understand today as I stand here before you, those thin places we enter into here and now will no longer be needed. The boundaries that stand between heaven and earth will be completely torn down. The place where God is only palpable for a fleeting moment will turn into an eternity of endless moments. Stephen has come face-to-face with pure and unabashed LOVE, what each of us long for at the deepest parts of who we are. So next time you see that dreaded billboard, hopefully my words will “haunt” you. Yes, we will each meet God, but the deeper truth (or as CS Lewis calls it, “the deeper magic,”) is that we will meet LOVE, for God is LOVE.

So, Stephen, we salute you. We thank you. We miss you. You are truly, deeply loved. Anything that stood between you and understanding that in the fullest sense is now a temporary bump in the road, a glitch. It’s gone. We hope you are enjoying that love that you longed for all of your life.

ENJOY ONE OF HIS FAVORITE SONGS SUNG BY HIS NEPHEW SAM!