Mental Health – Page 16 – The Dolly Mama

We are the Gift

Posted on December 24, 2017January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love. (Hamilton Wright Mabie)

As I sit here listening to needles fall from my Spruce, I am not sure if our tree will survive until tomorrow. It’s one of those minor stressors that come about because we bring something that’s alive from the outdoors into an environment where it is not designed to thrive. The tradition seems silly at times, but it’s one of my favorite parts of Christmas.

Tonight and tomorrow, many of us head into environments where, like my tree, we are in survival mode. There are so many reasons why it might be the case. Thriving is not even on the agenda. We are just going to “make it through.”

From the thousands of Christmas movies, books, and shows, we know in our heads that “Christmas cannot be bought from a store. Christmas is just a little bit more.” (The Grinch) But our actions speak otherwise. We rush around buying gifts and would never be caught dead without one in hand for those on our list. Part of the survival of Christmas. Get a gift. Bring a gift.

I don’t really want to just survive until Tuesday. My thoughts swirl as I think about how to “make that happen, keep my needles from falling off.” And then my heart is quieted. It’s not the outer world: other people, the food, the dying Spruce, the gifts, and even the Steelers game that are going to do it for me. It’s a gentle reminder from my friend Annie that she has hammered into my head for the past ten years (obviously I am a slow learner): We don’t just HAVE gifts to offer. We ARE the gifts.

As you go into today, tonight and tomorrow, be encouraged. You ARE the gift for those who spend any moments of precious time with you. Open yourself up. Unwrap yourself. Let others in. Help them to know you. At the same time, view others as the gifts that they ARE. Seek to unwrap their hearts. Get to know them. It’s scary and vulnerable and you might just be hurt and rejected, but you will be giving the best gift of all: YOU.

I long for one thing in this life and just perhaps you do too (whether you know it or not): being fully-known and fully-loved. I am so thankful that Jesus paved the way for us and showed us how this works. He opened His heart fully for us, taking a huge chance on being vulnerable and rejected, giving Himself without pause. He knew beyond a doubt that He IS the best gift for us and that you and I ARE the greatest presents He could ever receive. All of the scary rejection paled in comparison to the JOY that this union of hearts would bring. We were worth the risk.

I don’t know what’s going to happen today, tonight, or tomorrow when you risk your hearts for the chance of knowing and being known, loving and being loved. I can’t promise you that it might not end up painful. I can’t promise you that you might not be rejected. But I can promise that your heart will be more open, and in turn, more healed. And you might just be a little closer to getting what you really want this Christmas!

(Check out this fun video – What If We Saw Everything as a Gift?)

Celebration, Faith, Mental Health

Advent (The Howl of the Not-Yet)

Posted on December 9, 2017January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

O ye, beneath life’s crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow…

The past few weeks have been marked by much suffering for those I love. The pain seems overwhelming: substance abuse in adult children, the possibility of a very scary diagnosis, a seemingly unfair and senseless job loss, a sibling carted off to jail in the middle of the night, an impending divorce and the unnerving future of being alone, a debilitating disease that prevents normal life-function, and mental illness that doctors are having trouble treating. You get it. You are hearing that kind of news as well. And like me, your thoughts might be shouting, “How long? How much? Why? Why right now?”

I love the holiday season. From November 1 to January 1, like many of yours, our house is filled with decorations, food (and way too much of it, as my waistline is currently showing), family, friends, celebration, and traditions. Along with these external manifestations of the season, there are also the underlying inner emotional expectations of gratitude, wonder, joy, peace, love, hope and generosity, to name just a few. A quick confession: I like this paragraph more than the first one. I want to live here. I want all good things, happy thoughts.

The period leading up to Christmas morning is commonly known as Advent. It’s Advent right now. Shauna Niequist reminds us that “advent is about waiting, anticipating, yearning. Advent is the question, the pleading and Christmas is the answer to that question, the response to the howl. There are moments in this season when I don’t feel a lot like Christmas, but I do feel a lot like Advent.”

For many weeks now, as you read above, I agree with Shauna. I feel a lot like Advent. Advent is NOT Christmas morning. Advent speaks about and grieves broken places that are yet to be healed, questions that have no answer today, and yearning that is unfulfilled. Advent gives a glimpse of hope at the end of a long season of waiting. Advent is “both and.” Advent says there is suffering and it is real, palpable. But advent also says there is hope, just as real and palpable. Advent says “don’t skip over the suffering. Don’t minimize the heartache. Sit in it, acknowledge it, and feel it.” This is not an easy place. And if the truth is told, I struggle with Advent. I do not sit with the grief, acknowledge and feel it. I skip right to Christmas morning, the happy place, where the answer is here and salvation has come.

I am slowly learning that skipping right to Christmas doesn’t work. It doesn’t take away the pain. It doesn’t make bad things not happen. It doesn’t bring true healing. Advent brings healing. It is the place of real truth that speaks both heartache and hope, both suffering and a savior.

Sometimes God does His best work during the seasons of advent in our lives, the waiting periods, the not-yet times. And that hard work usually takes the form of those who “sit with us in the dark,” when we can’t see the light, those who go to the not-so-pretty places with us and remind us of who God is and His undying love for us, for as long as it takes until we can see “Christmas” on the horizon.

There are more than two weeks until Christmas. Let’s not skip to that place. Let’s live in the not-yet, the place of anticipation. Let’s dive into the questions, the grief, the “howl,” the yearning of both ourselves and those we love. Let’s be okay in the waiting. Christmas will come soon enough. A baby will be here. A Savior will come. What is empty will be filled. Heartache will be healed. Yearning will be fulfilled. What is broken will be repaired. What we’ve lost will be found. But in the meantime, we will wait together, not forgetting the howl of our hearts.

Look now! for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
O rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing!

(It Came Upon a Midnight Clear, Fourth Verse)

Family, Marriage, Thanks

A Shoutout to the #Goodguys (And Mine in Particular)

Posted on December 2, 2017January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“The work an unknown good man has done is like a vein of water flowing hidden underground, secretly making the ground green.” (Thomas Carlyle)

Allen. A word that comes off my lips probably twenty times a day. A word that sometimes is surrounded by love and other times by frustration. A word like no other in my life. A word that encompasses kindness unlike I’ve known before, integrity that quietly makes a profound statement, humility that lifts others up and spirituality that is deep and genuine.

This morning I was reminded that “we could use a hefty dose of uplifting stuff when it comes to men during this very important #metoo revolution.” (Shelby Spear) I was encouraged to share the story of fine men in my life.

I have one of the #goodguys as my partner for this journey. I’ve struck gold in the landscape of life. This man, who I’ve known for 28+ years just keeps getting better and better. He’s the best gift I’ve ever been given. And he gave me four more gifts in our incredible children, as qualities I see growing in them reflect who their dad is.

Allen embodies the spirit of “being kind over being right” (and thank God for that, because I like being right just a little too much). I watch it play out in quiet moments with close friends and strangers alike. He is considerate to both immediate family and the homeless that wander the streets of New York City. Co-workers who spend every day with him and the poor who don’t have access to clean water benefit from his heart of benevolence. His gracious spirit permeates his times with his partners in ministry and the engaged couples we minister to together. As you can see, his kindness is genuine, often and without boundaries.

Integrity is the suit of armor Allen puts on every single day. He does “the right thing even when no one is watching.” I would know. I live with the guy. He doesn’t cheat on his taxes, on his expense sheet at work, or me. He is the same person in the morning at work, in a board meeting at our church, on a weekend with the guys, and our family at home. I trust him completely and utterly. What a gift!

I struggle with thinking I’m better than everyone else (#notabigsurprise). I know. I’m working on it. And one of the reasons I’m working on it is because of this man named Allen who shows genuine humility. He embodies #iamsecond (I think there needs to be a cute video about him). I want to be seen and heard. He wants others to be seen and heard, including me. He’s the biggest reason why I started this blog. He wants my voice out there. He actually, deep-down-inside, believes that others are valuable and takes the role of a servant much of the time even though he is a highly successful business man with mad skills. You can find him washing the dishes, folding the laundry, performing menial, unseen tasks no one else wants to do and never expecting the notice and applause of others. I am so blessed!

My favorite thing about Allen, and probably why he’s all those other things, is that he is deeply spiritual. His inner life matters more to him than his outward persona. He seeks God with ferocity. He spends time in prayerful solitude in all kinds of places (the woods, his favorite chair in our family room, the airport as he’s waiting for a flight). He seeks wise counsel with me as we work to have a better marriage and partnership for this journey. He has a group of male friends called the Muckmeisters who meet every other week to encourage and be encouraged along their inner journeys. We share our lives with a group of couples where Allen is vulnerable and open with his struggles and successes. He voraciously reads anything he can get his hands on (at our local library because he is an accountant and keeps our money under control) that will help him on his path to becoming spiritually and emotionally whole. He is the real deal!!

Allen is not perfect by any means. No one is. That’s what makes this post even more precious to me! I spend a lot of time thinking about and dwelling on all the things he is not, the ways I wish he was different. But today, I am shouting for all to hear the things that HE IS, the parts of him that are his truest self.

To my boys: you have a great father. I don’t want you to be him. I want you to be yourselves. I want you to see, by Dad’s example, that you can be your truest, best selves in all that God made you to be. You are already great men and I can’t wait to post about you too in the not-so-distant future, because you are also two of the #goodguys! And a lot of the reason you are is because of the amazing dad that you have.

To my girls: you have a great father. He has been more than enough for you and taught you what a #goodguy is. Sarah, you have chosen wisely and have one of the #goodguys yourself. Maybe you should write a post about him! And now you have a son who you will raise to be one of those #goodguys! How blessed they both are to have you as their wife and mom. Rachel, you are still to choose. I know you will choose well. I pray that both of you would be a huge source of light and encouragement to this amazing “other half” of our world.

To the men out there in this tumultuous time, where the foundation of male and female is being rocked to its core, I want to say thank you to the #goodguys, the ones who are fighting against the #metoo atrocity alongside of women, the ones who embody what is right and good about being a man. There are so many of you! You are amazing! You are to be celebrated! I share my life with three of the best of you! Keep doing what you are doing, making our worlds better places! I see you! I salute you!

To us women: we are on shaky ground too. Let’s continue to fight for a firm foundation. Let’s think about every one of those #goodguys in our lives and give them a big shout-out. In a time where we are glorifying the bad behavior of a few men, let’s speak the truth about the #goodguys we sojourn with! Let’s expose them as the light they are! Let’s share anywhere we possibly can and use the hashtag (if your sharing is on social media) #goodguys! We’ve got to get the word out together! And maybe, just maybe, our world and our families will be just a little better because of it!

As always, please feel free to comment below, share this post on your social media or via email and please go back and like it on the social media site that brought you here and even make a comment there as well.

Thanks

TT (Season #01, Episode #06) An End of November Special

Posted on November 30, 2017January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“O Lord that lends me life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!” (William Shakespeare)

I eke every last little bit out of the month of November, the month of thanks. Other than the trip to the tree farm, I don’t do anything related to Christmas until the clock strikes midnight on November 30 (and I secretly judge those who do (but still love them)…except for those who are not Americans…they can do whatever they want for obvious reasons).

Actually, I do have a confession to make. Today, I bought poinsettias (I never knew there was no “t” in the first half of that word until just now when spell-check corrected me) for friends and myself for the start of December tomorrow, but mine will stay in its brown wrapper until I wake at dawn.

As I reflect tonight about my #thirtythanks for the month of November, I am somewhat surprised at what I am the most grateful for. Yes, I did write one thing each day for which I was thankful and took a picture to prove my point, but those things are NOT what is crossing the landscape of my mind.

As November draws to a close, my heart is drawn to the countless times others expressed their thankfulness and appreciation OF me TO me. I recall emails, face-to-face conversations, texts, FB messages, and phone calls where someone said thank you to me. One of my very favorite was a simple text from our son Josh the day he went back to college this past Monday.

Just that simple note reminded me that he valued me and appreciated the hard work I had put in to making our holiday nice. And there were so many other moments this past month where someone remembered to say thank you. And you know what? Every time it occurred, my heart became a little less empty and a lot more full, a little less broken and a lot more healed. What a gift! Thanksgiving heals. I imagine that’s a secret President Lincoln knew when he declared a national day of thanksgiving during a time of civil war. It brings unity where there is division, joy in the midst of sorrow, and clarity instead of confusion.

It’s why I am so passionate about it. I want more of all that’s good and healing for my heart and yours. It’s why I don’t just celebrate on the day, but I take the month of November and every #thankfulthursday during the rest of the year. It’s why I have a thankful app on my phone that puts an annoying red notification circle at 7:00 pm every night. I need the reminder because I’m human and my mind wanders to other, not-so-healed places at times. I want my life to be saturated, or as St. Paul says, “overwhelmed with thanksgiving.” Thanksgiving heals.

Thank you for all the times you have taken a moment to show your appreciation to all the different people in your life, from the clerk at the store to the spouse you might be annoyed with at the moment, from the person who teaches your children to the fallible mother who raised you, from the friend who sends you an encouraging text to the stranger who lets you pull out in front of them. You have brought so much healing through this simple act. I know what it’s done for me. And I know what it’s doing for you and those whose lives you touch.

It’s December Eve. Let’s take one more quiet moment together to reflect and allow our hearts to be filled up with all the goodness that gratitude has to offer. And then, do one more thing: find someone to say a simple thank you to as soon as you can. It will change their world forever. Thanksgiving heals.

Anxiety, Faith, Mental Health

The Cure for Fear

Posted on November 19, 2017January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“We stopped checking for monsters under the bed, when we realized they were inside of us.” (The Joker from Batman)

For years, I struggled with a horrible disease. It hurt my family. As I sit here in the wee hours under cover of darkness waiting for my first grandbaby to be born, one of my greatest desires is that he won’t ever succumb or even have to fight this monster. No, it’s not cancer. It’s not heart disease. It’s not anything that modern medicine in the traditional sense can address. The disease is fear. What is the cure?

One of the “not-so-good” things I do when I don’t feel well or have some kind of physical symptom (I know at least two or three of you reading this do this exact same thing) is check WebMD. There is a handy symptom checker, and most of the time, many deadly diseases come up as a possibility when I have a headache, my left-side hurts, and I have a funny mark under my chin (you get it…you’ve had those weird symptoms too). Needless to say, it sends me to a “not-so-good” place (if you are taking notes and you have medical-related anxiety, NEVER USE THE SYMPTOM CHECKER ON WEBMD!).

I don’t need a symptom-checker for fear. The manifestations have been evident in abundance for as long as I can remember in my own life, the lives of those I love, acquaintances, and even strangers. It doesn’t take long to spot them. They include: striving, hating, arguing, comparing, performing, blaming, controlling, bragging, shaming, judging, pretending, slandering, and hiding, among others. I’m sure you have your own list to add. It’s a little more tricky to understand the driver behind these behaviors: fear.

What is our greatest collective fear? I would venture to say it might just be the fear of being unloved, not belonging and ultimately rejection. No wonder there are so many symptoms. It makes so much sense.

Left unchecked, fear increases. Hope diminishes. The above symptoms get worse. Sometimes, addictions develop. Relationships with ourselves and others suffer.

So what is the cure? I can confidently shout from the top of my roof that the cure is LOVE, plain and simple love. “Perfect love casts out fear.” (John)

“Love is an experience that is given and received.” If we had a symptom-checker for love, it would include: safety, connecting, trusting, humility, vulnerability, harmony, encouragement, openness, and resting. These certainly sound like the very opposite of fear.

One of the things that fear does to us is isolate us from others, from what our hearts long for: love, belonging and acceptance. We believe that we can protect ourselves through isolation and lack of trust. The result is the contrary: fear grows and multiplies. Can this true debilitation be treated? Yes. True treatment is not in protection, but in vulnerability, scary as that is. It happens on walks, around tables, in homes, all kinds of places, anywhere that hearts connect.

Is that enough? Do we just need the venue? I would plainly say no. We also need the conduit. It’s not enough to be with people, side-by-side, together, but alone. We have had enough of that at big parties or even small family gatherings, to understand that fear can abound in any environment. What we really need is the language of grace. Received and given. My new online friend, Janet Newberry speaks these words:

“Grace is a language, and it’s so much more than a language.

There is real, and supernatural, power in the words we speak, and the words we refuse to speak. There is power to heal or destroy, to strengthen or weaken, and we hold this power in our words.

When grace is spoken, new life is wooed forth, from our new hearts within. Good life. Deep satisfying life.”

Fear language speakers are filled with the symptoms we noted above. You don’t have to go too far (just go on social media, watch the news, check out what’s going on in your own home or maybe even passing through your own lips), to see blame, shame, judgment, comparison, slander, arguments, boasting, and the list goes on.

The opposite is also true. Humility, trust, understanding, kindness, encouragement, and vulnerability permeate the language of the grace speaker. Connection happens. Fear is quelled. Love prevails.

God’s ultimate will for us is that we love and be loved. He gently reminds us to love others the way He’s loved us. That’s a love you can trust. God communicates to us in the language of grace. He is the ultimate grace-giver.

Yes, the cure is Love. “Love is a connection that speaks grace.” Love is not a blog. Love is not a sermon. Love is not a book. Those are good, but they are one-way streets. Love is relationship. Love is people. Connection. Safety. Vulnerability. Humility. The ultimate language of grace is to know another and be known, to accept and be accepted, true and unconditional love.

Will baby Broden’s generation be the one that has the cure for this horrible disease called fear? I am hoping for that. I want to be, as Janet reminds me, a “cure carrier,” who speaks grace in safe relationships. It’s free for you and for me. I pray that my heart will be on this continuing journey of receiving and giving grace, hope and love. And that out of that more healed heart, my mouth will speak loudly and often.

“There is no fear in love.” (John)

(Click HERE to see Janet Newberry’s website, who I follow whole-heartedly because she speaks the language of grace which I need desperately and want to learn more about. I have taken much of these thoughts from her in this post. Anything in quotes is from her.)

Faith, Mental Health

For What It’s (uh…I Mean I’m) Worth

Posted on November 12, 2017January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

The Lord Your God will take great delight in you. He will quiet you with His love. He will rejoice over you with singing. (The Prophet Zephaniah)

I was a smart, speedy child. I could read when I was just four. I skipped kindergarten, went to first grade at five years old, did three grades in two years, moved to the United States and repeated third grade (there was no way the Ventnor school system would have a seven-year old in fourth grade), skipped fourth grade when I went back to Ethiopia and ended up in fifth grade when I was only eight years old. Sounds exhausting just writing it, much less living it. After that, I actually did only one grade per year, but it meant I graduated high school at 16, even before I got my New Jersey driver’s license.

Needless to say, I was praised all the way through for how smart I was. What a great performer I was. How “special” I was. I loved the attention and thought of myself as the “one to beat.” But to tell you the truth, I actually did not believe you would ever “win” if we had a competition when it came to smarts.

This perpetuated itself in high school when I received the award for the #1 Bible quizzer in the United States for our church’s denomination and was deemed worthy of a spot at the “Harvard of Christian colleges,” Wheaton College in Illinois. I had performed well and was rewarded for it.

Lest you think that I sailed through with flying colors both outside and inside, there were many times that I struggled with embarrassment. I did not want to be the “odd man out,” the one who was different, “special.” I lived with two conflicting emotions: I loved being the best, the fastest, the smartest, but I also wanted not to HAVE to be that, desiring to be average, normal, the right age and be accepted anyway. I actually purposefully got a “C” in Physical Science in ninth grade to fit in (not even with others, but just within my own head). Opposing messages swirled inside of me: I am worth a lot because I am smart and I wish I was worth a lot because I am me.

I took these two opposite notions with me well into adulthood when one day, I heard the phrase, “Your worth is not based on your performance.” Really? Really? Because my worth certainly was. As time marched on, I began to entertain this thought and realized much damage had been done to my heart so long ago and still continued. It began to make sense why I was driven to achieve and worked tirelessly at everything I did and ended up in an adrenaline-overloaded life-style, constantly feeding the “worthy monster.” It morphed into terrible anxiety in my late 30s as I struggled with the idea that if I wasn’t “pulling my weight” here on earth, God might just deem me unworthy of staying and he would take me to Himself. Weird thoughts prevailed: if I wasn’t the perfect mom, God might just give me cancer. If I don’t make that person dinner or take their kids to soccer practice, they might not want to be my friend. If my kids misbehave in church, people will judge me. So I paddled along, hearing that good message faintly echo in my thoughts, but living from the louder opposing voice. I wanted to believe that I was worthy even if there was no performance, but my actions proved that I still held to the contrary.

It didn’t help that our culture permeates this point of view. Constant evaluations based on performance in school, community, church, sports, friendship and even marriage flood our lives. Learning is replaced by good grades, teamwork is replaced by winning games, compassion is replaced with mandatory volunteer hours, Christian community is replaced by behavior-management sermons, long talks on porches are replaced by a “what can I do for you” mentality and intimacy is replaced by well-manicured lawns and magazine-worthy homes.

I spent years combatting this highly destructive-to-the-soul belief, shouted truth from the mountaintops to my children, friends and anyone who would listen, hoping it would penetrate my own soul and that I would finally live within the framework of knowing I was worthy just because I am who I am and God had deemed it so. Until this past week, I would have told you that I had won the war for my heart.

Not so. While waiting for Broden, our grandson, to arrive (and yes, we are still waiting not-so-patiently), I was scurrying around cooking meals for home and for the soon-to-be-parents, cleaning out every cabinet in the house, washing every last dish and dirty clothes item, and tackling projects long-laid to the side, when I asked myself the deeper question: what’s going on? why do you feel the need to get “all your ducks in a row” before this baby comes? Of course, there is the natural “nesting” that takes place when a baby comes into the world, and that is all well and good, but I sensed a below-the-surface wound that was oozing out again. After all, I am making the transition from motherhood to grand-motherhood. I can justify my worth if I have children and take care of them. But what about now that they are grown? I had a huge moment of clarity: once again, I am trying to prove my worth. This does not come from a deeply-loved place, but from an earning place. Keep working. Keep doing. Get praised. Be loved for what you do. Prove. Prove. Prove. YIKES!

As the week progressed, it came to the forefront that I still have ways to go. I am still surrounded by constant evaluations, some of them coming from inside of me. The battle is not “one-and-done.” It’s a daily fight to the place of wholeness and healing. There is good news: I believe and live whole-heartedly from the place that YOU are valuable, beyond any measure. YOU are of infinite worth, whether you ever perform another task again. I never measure YOUR worth on your performance. And there is future good news: I am much closer to living from that same place for myself. After all, my mantra in this blog is this: wholeness and healing is for all of us. And finally, there is the best news of all, a spark of hope: it can start with me. I am loved and that is enough.

(Please like or comment on this on social media if you came from Facebook, Instagram or Linked In. It helps in spreading the good news of hope.)

Faith, Friendship, Prison, Uncategorized

A Letter from Prison and a Journey to Freedom

Posted on October 8, 2017January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“Inner slavery is even worse than outward slavery. Inner freedom is even better than outward freedom.” (Kathryn Lindskoog)

By the amount of sheer clicks and views on my post about my friend Kim who killed her husband, I know many of you read her story a few weeks ago. (If you didn’t, check it out here first before going ahead, but don’t forget to come back.) I was thrilled that I received views, but somewhere inside me I knew that it was partly because of the mind-boggling nature of the post. I would have clicked as well just out of curiosity. Today, however, I hope that even if you did come again to quench the thirst of an inquisitive mind, you will find a greater satisfaction for your spirit.

My friend Kim and I have become pen pals. Snail mail is a slow process, especially with prisoners, because all mail is opened and read before reaching the other person. It can take about two weeks from penning the letter to the opening and reading of it on the other end. In a world where immediate communication is just a text, email or phone call away, this has been an exercise for me in carefully thought-out words on paper and eager anticipation of a reply as I wait patiently for up to a month to hear back.

My second letter came about two weeks ago. It was the first since visiting her in prison. I had written her a long letter and sent her a copy of the blog post I had written about her. She was responding. As I read the letter, I began to weep with joy over the words that came flowing off the paper. It was as if I was perusing something straight out of the best book I had ever read, where wrong is made right and goodness wins over evil, something my soul longs for at the very core of it.

Two girls in a dorm room, sharing secrets and dreams late at night while the campus goes to sleep. Two massively different external stories. One girl goes on to raise a “normal” family and live a typical American life. The other kills her husband and heads to prison for 20+ years. What could we possibly have in common 30+ years later?

Kim writes… (Get a cup of coffee. Sit back. Don’t skim. Go slowly. Breathe her deep wisdom into your soul.)

“Your blog entry was poignant. Wow. I never thought of my story as inspirational. I’m not talking about the salacious, media version of my crime. I mean my story, the one that had yet to be told. I believe that those truths needed to be told so that my victims would no longer have questions. I owed truth to them, to my family, to my friends and to the larger community. I believe that keeping the truth inside of me all that time was in essence a kind of theft. The truth is all I have to give and I needed to give it.

Telling the truth is hard. Especially to someone who is out of practice like me. I kept many secrets for many years and it made me hollow and dead on my inside. I lived like that while looking perfectly normal on my outside. Telling those truths was beyond scary to me. I thought I would lose every single person that loved me, family included. But God moved in my life and opened doors for me, giving me a safe place and way to finally speak. Yes, there was real risk of rejection, but I knew it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do.

In prison, there aren’t many safe places to tell the truth. Information that can be used to hurt someone is power. So we hold our power inside as a kind of protection. Sometimes, we don’t even admit the truth to ourselves because we can’t bear to look directly at what we’ve done. That was definitely true for me. I wanted to speak, but how? To whom? Where should I start?

My objective was to find a way to reach out to my husband’s family. I was not seeking forgiveness. I would not dare to ask that. I have no right to it. Forgiveness is a gift that heals and releases the giver. The decision to forgive (or not) is sacred. I wanted to give them the opportunity to hear truth and to respond however they want. My hope was that my acceptance of responsibility might help them heal. I knew I had to try.

My father died and I inherited money. I hired an attorney. He found something called DIVO (Defense Initiated Victim Outreach). It is part of the restorative justice movement. We hired a psychological expert to create an “in-depth profile of me.” The woman we hired was patient and smart and kind. She helped me speak out loud not only what I did the night of my crime, but how I got to the point where I believed that killing my husband was the only answer. She helped me understand what I could not understand on my own. She peeled off the layers of self-hate to uncover the complicated mess underneath. It was painful and horrible and a blessing.

In 2010, I took a class called VOICE (Victim Offender Impact Class Education). In that class, we heard many stories of victims and how the crimes impacted their lives. At the end, we were encouraged to write a letter to our own victims. These letters are kept in a file that victims can access. They told us that a letter would be sent to our victims telling them the letter was on file. So I wrote. I do not know if the letter ever reached Steve’s family.

There was still a pull in my heart to do something, anything to express my remorse, to tell my ugly truth to the the people I had harmed. I joined a group called “Building Bridges.” The work we do is transformational. We speak openly to each other about our crimes and our lives that lead up to them. It was rough, hideous and shocking to say those things and hear them from others. We then meet with outside guests to tell them those same truths and allow them to ask questions. The questions are hard to answer, but I do. I know that doing the uncomfortable thing is good, that God wants to bless the truth. And He does.

I have alienated people with my truth. Especially when the truth exposes something awful that was done to me. One of those secrets I mentioned. In the end, I have been loved unconditionally, maybe for the first time in my life. I am lucky in a way that the only kind of love I can get is unconditional. Only unconditional love can penetrate barbed wire.

Telling the truth has healed me. I was without the burden of a thousand lies on my back. I can accept my incarceration with grace and the acknowledgement that I do belong in prison. I do not believe I will be here for life and God is working. He has put blessings and opportunities in my path that could have only come from Him. That is how I know I am on the right path because He is restoring me. He promises to give back what the moths and locusts have eaten.

Your visit was part of that restoration. He gave you back to me. Your friendship is both a blessing and confirmation. I love you for it and I give all my thanks to God. He has loved me even when I was unable to love myself. He never gave up, even when I did. It is people like you and Rachelle who exemplify Christ when you love someone who is less than perfect, someone who has destroyed her own life, someone who is lonely and in prison. Someone just like me.”

What do we have in common? Nothing on the outside, but everything on the inside.

When I first found out about Kim in January, I believed that God had brought her into my life to restore her. I would be the one ministering to her, loving her. God is an upside-down God sometimes. He’s the God of surprises. He’s the God whose “thoughts and ways are much higher than ours.” He’s proving it once again. Kim’s story is redeeming me. Her wisdom is freeing me. She believes that God is restoring her through my love. And she is probably right. But I can’t help but come to the conclusion that this God of redemption and mercy and unconditional love is bringing further hope and healing to both of us at the same time. (And now, hopefully to you as well.)

The story of Kim’s crime is interesting and may satisfy your curiosity, but the story of her heart is redemptive and may just satiate a much deeper, needy place in your soul, one that longs for truth and freedom on the inside. It has mine.

Two girls and two paths that from the outside, look utterly different. One God. Two girls and two paths that are wonderfully similar on the inside. From lying to truth. From hiding to freedom. Her story is all of our stories. The stories of redemption. May the stories continue.

Faith, Thanks

I Needed Hope Today…TT (Season #01, Episode #05)

Posted on October 5, 2017January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” (the book of Hebrews)

After almost a year of navigating the tumultuous polarization and division that is running rampant on social and regular media from every possible side, and then more recently following both the natural and man-made disasters, last night, I was done in emotionally, physically, and spiritually. I felt as if I was living in a place and time where there is no hope. No hope. Not a good place for this Dolly Mama, the one whose fierce passion is to bring the message of hope and healing. It’s what I normally shout from the mountaintops. There’s always hope. But last night, I was mired in a place believing I might be wrong. There actually might not be any hope.

My thoughts swirled. Who is going to fix this? Why do people hate each other? What’s with all the natural disasters? Why do people keep vilifying those they are not in agreement with? Where is the love? Doesn’t anyone see that divisiveness will destroy each valuable person? I was pretty much on a rampage to convince myself that I am wrong to think that there is redemption and hope and healing. Hopeless might just be a more true place. Right in the middle of my thoughts running amok, there was a song that kept running through my mind as I turned in for the night and rang loudly again in my head as I woke this morning. It was one of those catchy tunes you wish you could get rid of but just keeps going around and around and around in your brain. The words eventually caught hold of my heart as I was trying to tune them out.

There is hope for the helpless
Rest for the weary
Love for the broken heart
There is grace and forgiveness
Mercy and healing
He’ll meet you wherever you are
Cry out to Jesus.

(Click here for the full version but come back and read.)

Having nowhere else to turn and not really liking the place I was in, I made a bold move. I actually took the song up on the challenge and cried out to God. I asked Him to bring voices of HOPE, RESTORATION AND HEALING today to my heart instead of voices of fear, divisiveness and destruction. I needed those voices today. I needed that healing and restoration. Many days, I am that voice. But not today. I was desperate for those voices from others, those that reflect the very heart of the God of unity, truth, healing, encouragement, kindness, love, hope, peace, joy, patience, all that is GOOD. I promised Him I would keep track of them if He would just send them to me.

I quickly went right back to a “not-so-good” place and asked myself if I was just purposefully trying to avoid the bad stuff. Shut it out. Not deal with it. Pretend it’s not there. Go on in my “nice little world” and not have it be shaken up. That thought deeply troubled me. I am not sure that my answer was purely 100% “no.” Life is hard. Terrible things happen that shake me up. I get caught up in the drama and the opinions and the tragedies. The world is suffering and struggling. I do want to avoid it. However, a louder voice and a deeper, truer message broke through the darkness of my soul. God sent those voices today.

On this, my “Thankful Thursday,” I share them with you.

A beautiful sunrise on my walk and talk with wise daughter, Sarah. She shared her heart for the poverty-stricken children she has in her second-grade classroom day after day. She loves these kids with every cell in her body. A voice of HOPE.
A text from my dear friend, Cindy, about her love and thankfulness for me and our friendship. A voice of HOPE.
A quick word with my mom about my dad coming through his surgery with flying colors. I think this man may outlive me. A voice of HEALING.
A letter from my friend Kim in prison pouring out words of truth, grace, mercy, and wisdom far beyond anything I have personally known. A voice of RESTORATION.
A blog post from my online friend Shelby. A voice of HEALING.
A walk and talk with my pastor friend Tracy. We shared our differences and our similarities with kindness, love and grace, with humility and reason. A voice of RESTORATION.
A hard phone call with my patient husband working through a disagreement that we’ve been struggling with since Monday night. A voice of HEALING.

I will end with an excerpt from Shelby’s blog post. She speaks truth, the deeper truth of HOPE, HEALING AND RESTORATION!

“Wherever the Spirit of the Lord is present, He gives freedom. And the Spirit is EVERYWHERE.

God knows we long for freedom—freedom to live and love and laugh and experience the grandeur and beauty of this precious life He’s given us. Freedom from evil, discord, scarcity, oppression, shame.

If we would only look longer into the eyes of every person we meet, friends and foes, perhaps the God in them would have a better chance of connecting with the God in us. Together is the only way we press forward through these moments of suffering. Arm in arm, heart to heart, breath to breath.

Let’s make sure we love…with every fiber of our being.

Love binds, love sustains, love endures, love heals, LOVE WINS.”

(Read her entire post here)

Anxiety

What My Dog Taught Me About Anxiety

Posted on September 13, 2017January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“I need you to love me a little louder today.” (Healthyplace.com)

This past year, our dog, Autumn, tore both of her ACLs and we made the very hard decision to put her to sleep. She was an absolutely beautiful dog, a loving dog, an active dog, a mischievous dog, and a highly-anxious dog. At our first vet visit when she was just a puppy, we were told that she probably had neurological issues (because we made the lovely decision to buy a pure-breed). Little did we know then, but soon found out, that this dog was one nervous-nelly.

Life marched on and she had all kinds of typical dog anxiety related to thunder, strangers, and loud noises (like Allen and I yelling at the TV during Steelers games). But she also had “not-so-typical” dog anxiety where she panted and paced often for no reason, snapped at the air like she was catching flies even when she was alone (it’s called fly-biting syndrome) and tried to climb out of our home through the fire place.

Needless to say, you get my point. Like her loving owner, this dog had some serious issues with the dreaded monster of anxiety. As the years went on, I learned some very valuable lessons from my Autumn, many that I remind myself on the days that anxiety rears its ugly head in my own life and the lives of those I love.

#1 Anxiety can come out of nowhere.
There are times that I find myself in a place that only moments before was nowhere to be found. I am going along just fine and out of the blue, I have thoughts that are absolutely ridiculous and filled with fear. (I haven’t heard from Josh today. I wonder if he’s okay. He is, Esther. You are ridiculous. But he could have fallen in the shower and all his housemates are already at school. He might be laying there bleeding or worse, he might be dead. How will we deal with this? I will be wreck. Stop it Esther. This is nuts.) This may have come on the heels of enjoying a nice breakfast out with a friend while drinking chamomile tea.

#2 Anxiety usually passes.
After years of observing Autumn’s and my own anxiety, I have come to realize that it doesn’t usually last. The same way it roars into my life, it often makes its way out. This is a lifeline for me in the throes of it. On a very bad day, I remind myself that it will eventually pass. It might take some time, but it won’t be like this forever. It seems to be cyclical. Shalom (meaning completeness, soundness, peace) is a life-long journey, with many fits and starts along the way.

#3 Anxiety isn’t about trusting God.
One day, Autumn was just beside herself. It might have been a thunderstorm. She was pacing and panting, wide-eyed and whining. In a moment of clarity, I said to her (very tongue-in-cheek), “Autumn, you just need to trust God more.” You are probably thinking to yourself, “That’s ridiculous. She’s a dog.” And you know what, it is ridiculous. For years, I added to the shame of my anxiety by berating myself about not trusting God enough. I memorized verses about fear, the “do not fear” ones especially (and yes, I do know that here are 365 verses about fear, one for every day…I would imagine you might sense the sarcasm). I promise you. If memorizing these verses and trying really hard to “trust God more” would have done the trick and that formula could have worked, I would be all over it, preaching it from the mountaintops. If it were only that easy. But the hard truth is it’s not.

This is a message for all of us. Anxiety is a neurological disorder. Anxiety is when a person’s central nervous system is telling them there is an emergency even when there isn’t one. Anxiety comes from a place of fright without solution. Yes, we can feed it and make it worse (learned all about those neurons firing and giant pathways being created in my Physiology class in college). I am an expert at feeding it. And yes, new pathways can be formed that bring calm to the nervous system. I am in the process of feeding those new pathways now and have been for many years (which has helped tremendously). In the end, it’s all very complicated and I am not an expert in the field. But that’s not the point.

Here is the point. For those of you who don’t struggle, please don’t tell the person in the middle of it to “trust God more.” I promise you it won’t help. It may just heap more frustration and shame on the person and send them deeper into hiding. And for those of you, like me, who have this monster hounding them on many days and during many seasons, think about my dog. Give yourself some grace. Tell yourself some truth. It’s just as ridiculous to say “trust God more” to yourself as it is to my dog.

#4 Anxiety dissipates by being “held.”
The best thing we could do for our dog, when she was at her worst and visibly shaking with fear, was to hold or pet her, come close to her, and speak gently and kindly to her. That’s really what those of us with anxiety need. We need someone to listen to our fears, be gentle and kind to us and most of all, hold us until it passes (this can be emotional or physical). My favorite words in the whole world are, “It’s going to be okay. You (the real you) are going to be okay.”

The big question that nags is what if there is not someone tangible to hold us? Can we go to God? Will He calm our hearts? It’s not magic and certainly not a quick-fix formula, but I promise you that He cares for you. He loves you. He will listen. He will be kind and tender to you. He will hold you until your heart and mind calm. A verse that I reprimanded myself with for many years got flipped on its head one day by our counselor. I Peter 5:7. Instead of “cast all your cares on Him, for He cares for you,” it is actually the reverse in the Greek. It really says, “Because He cares for you, you can cast all your anxiety on Him.” God is the initiator here. We ARE cared for. He holds us. To that truth, I cling with my life. Shalom.

(By the way, I loved my dog and I miss her very much. I wouldn’t have traded her for the world, fly-biting and all.)

Childhood, Faith, Family, motherhood, Thanks

Pennies

Posted on August 23, 2017January 27, 2022 by Esther Goetz

“The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside by a generous hand. But- and this is the point- who gets excited by a mere penny?” (Annie Dillard in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)

Allen hatched a plan at dinner one night many moons ago. He had been reading the above book (worth the read) and was captivated by an anecdote about a game Dillard used to play in her childhood. She tells the story of how she used to hide her own “precious penn(ies)” in nooks or crannies in trees or sidewalks, drawing chalk arrows to them so a stranger would find the surprise penny and pick it up. Many times, she would lie in wait to catch a glimpse of the excitement in the finder’s eyes.

Allen’s favorite thought, just like Annie Dillard, was that there are “unwrapped gifts and free surprises” straight from the heart of God, just waiting for us if we open our eyes to see them. Thus came Allen’s mission for our family: find these pennies every day and tell us about them at dinner.

What started as a game ended up changing our lives. Each one of us searched and found many things each day that we believed were “strewn by the generous hand” of God Himself, “surprises” just for us He had hidden along the path, many times with “big arrows” signaling where we might discover them. We had things like flowers, actual pennies (those were super fun to find), frogs, the best parking space at the mall on a rainy day, butterflies, a kind word from someone, scoring an unexpected goal on the soccer or field hockey field, etc. Sometimes, we would joke that what we had been given was a “nickel,” a “dime” or even a “quarter,” depending on the magnitude of what it meant to us.

Maybe I’m the only one here, but I have a confession to make. My life (and mostly my head) is filled with negativity from the news, struggles in my home, animosity on social media, work-place uncertainty, sickness and even the death of those I love, all things that consume me by what’s wrong with the world instead of what’s right. And really, truth be told, it causes me to doubt whether or not there is a God who is alive and who actually loves us people down here on this beautiful, but hurting planet.

As the events of the past week unfolded, my mind traced back (and thankfully did so) to the game we played for a whole year at our dinner table, the one that changed my life and maybe can change it again. Are there terrible things? Yes. Are there sad things? Yes. Are there things that are just downright wrong? Yes. But are they the only things? NO!

I don’t want to stick my head in the sand, but I also don’t want to be swallowed up either. I want to wisely navigate that tension between the bitter and the sweet of life, compassion rising within me in the bitter and joy enveloping my heart in the sweet.

One does not negate the other. They both matter. They both have their place in my day. I would venture to say, however, that I don’t have to look very far to see the bitter. I am bombarded from sun up until sun down. And that’s why I want to open my eyes, like Annie Dillard implores me, to search for the sweet, find it, and name it. Those “pennies” might be just what I need. And they just might quiet those doubts and remind me of a God who is alive and loves little old me, a God who has put special pennies all throughout my day, pennies just for me. This is a soothing and healing balm for my soul.

Will you play this game with me, even if it’s just for today? Pennies from heaven. Mine today was a beautiful view of the James River from outside our train window on the way to Florida taking Rachel to college. What was yours?