The phone rang.

7:00.

Seven in the morning? Who’d call this early?

“This is Officer So-and-So of the Elmhurst Police Department. I’m sad to inform you that your mother is. . .”

You never forget a call like that. My mom was only 62.

I already had a lot going on, especially dealing with difficult memories from childhood.

 Now this.

That sounds whiny, like my mom had a fatal heart attack on an inconvenient day fifteen years ago. Like another day would have been better.

No day is good for a mother to die.

I remember saying to God several weeks later, “Why did you kill my best friend?” knowing he didn’t kill her. He brought her home. Brought her home? Home? Heaven is home? But I’m not there with her so how could it be home? What about me?

Whiney again. Grief is whiney sometimes.

The cemetery stood three blocks from my home. It became my almost daily ritual to walk to her spot, bend low and with my finger trace her name and the dates of her birth and death.

CAROL GALE KUPER

11.7.1931 - 1.10.1994

THROUGH DEATH INTO LIFE 

The days after 1.10.1994 blurred. Sometimes I wailed pain from the deepest part of me, a part I didn’t even know I had. Until then.

My pain reliever: music. Sometimes I danced. Sometime I sat, dazed. I allowed myself to feel. Yes, me. Lucy, the girl who had learned to stuff emotions like I stuff a Thanksgiving turkey. . .to overflowing.

The dam burst.

I grieved you well, Mom.

It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.

Except on your birthday, your death day, and Mother’s Day.

And today. Why today?

I don’t know, Mom. Grief’s like that. Sometimes it plays peek-a-boo.

Question: When you hear the word “grief” what’s the first thing that comes to mind? Please share.

You Are Loved!

When you hopscotched on the school playground, secrets fluttered about like butterflies.

“Hey, Suzie, guess which boy in class likes you?”

“Who?’

“I’m not suppose to tell you. It’s a secret.” The friend looks over her shoulder and whispers a name in Suzie’s ear.

“Really? He’s cute.”

FAST FORWARD TEN YEARS.

“Terri, you’ll never guess who got so drunk she did it with lots of guys at Sam’s party?”

“Who?”

“I really shouldn’t tell you. She wouldn’t want you to know.”

“C’mon, who?”

“Your sister.”

Every person has shameful secrets that she doesn’t want anyone to know.

The difference between secret and confidence is Grand Canyon huge. A confidence is a private matter that should be kept quiet. For instance, what you paid for your house is between you, the seller and the bank. Feel free to keep it private. A secret, however, may be shared appropriately. Underline appropriately.

Here’s an example.

Seeking guidance, a close friend shares with me that she suspects her teenage son is downloading pornography from the Internet. While it was OK for her to share her secret with me (because we are very close friends and she is emotionally hurt by the situation), I ask her if she has talked with her husband. She has not. I encourage her to talk with him, and together talk with their son. The family secret must get out in the open. The son needs help.

If your son or daughter has a friend who is suicidal, tell them it’s right to tell an adult and get help.

Keep a confidence, sweet sister. A dangerous secret? Tell someone who is trustworthy and who can help.

Shame.

I know shame. She was my bed partner for decades.

Then I kicked her out. . .finally.

What about you? Are you bound by shame?

Shame is feeling bad because of who you are. It differs greatly from guilt. Guilt is feeling bad because of what you’ve done.

If I stole a candy bar, I would feel guilt. This is good. Guilt prompts me to do a U-turn and make things right with God and the store owner and pray he doesn’t call the cops.

Like an octopus, shame entangles me in its eight arms, imprisons me in its hundreds of suckers, and squeezes my joy. It tells me I’m a defect, worthless, nothing. AND I BELIEVE ITS LIES. Why?

My parents’ divorce at age 8.

Sexual molestation at age 14.

A deeply depressed and emotionally absent dad. A mom who had also grown up in an alcoholic home.

I felt alone. Scared. Sad.

Shame condemned me. Jesus redeemed me. Praise God.

Please watch this  picture of shame. (Pause my music player at the bottom of the page.)

Question: Do you know shame? Please leave a comment. Thank you.

Bound from Gateway Church on Vimeo.