A half empty love tank.

When I was a little girl, my father left me.

I have fuzzy memories of him, bits and pieces I can barely recall. 

I am unsure of all the things that made him leave me, but I do know an alcohol addiction played a huge part. 

As a young girl, I felt like I was walking around with this giant piece missing from me. 

I didn’t even know my own dad. 

I didn’t know where he lived, and I didn’t know his phone number.

I didn’t know what he looked like or what his voice sounded like. 

Whenever we would travel, the first thing I did was pull the phone book out of the drawer in the hotel room and look up his name.  Maybe, just maybe, he lived here.  Maybe I would call him, and he would answer, and he would come running to me and take me in his arms and call me baby girl.  My mind would run wild with these dreams and visions of our reuniting. 

I searched and wished and longed for him.  I just knew so many of my problems and hurts would go away if he was just a part of my life. 

So from a very young age, I was broken. 

I tried to fill a half empty love tank with all sorts of things - things that weren’t necessarily unhealthy from the outside, but things that shaped me from a young age.

Striving for perfection was a big one.  I was the good kid.  I made good grades.  I read all the books.  I let other kids pick on me.  I was the teacher’s favorite.  I sat on the front row. 

Trying to be perfect was one way I dealt with a broken heart.  This is my go-to unhealthy way to deal with things even now as an adult.  If I couldn’t earn my own father’s love and affection, then by golly, I was going to win the affection of everyone around me. 

S T R I V I N G for love and attention to fill a broken heart.

When I feel like things are out of control in my life, well, that’s when I tend to gravitate towards that perfection drive.  My heart and my mind are running wild with all the hurt, chaos, brokenness, but you would never know it from the outside. 

After years of therapy and counseling, I can identify when things are moving towards the side of perfection and when I need to check myself.  But it creeps in every single day and tries to tell me that I am unworthy of love - that I must EARN it.

When I was 18 years old, I received a phone call from my father’s wife.  My dad was sick and dying and he wanted to meet me and my sister. 

My dream finally came true.

Expectations for that trip were beyond insane.  I thought something magical and beautiful would happen. 

But as you might guess, it didn’t.  My dad didn’t apologize.  He didn’t embrace me.  He didn’t say “Baby girl, I screwed up, but guess what?  I always loved you and I always, always will.” 

That trip was one of the most difficult and defining trips of my life.  And also one that I can’t recall much of (thanks, brain) — you see, my brain knew how traumatic this trip was for me and basically WIPED OUT every single picture or faint memory I have.  I couldn’t even tell you what my dad looked like. 

Two weeks later, he died.

And I still walk around with this MASSIVE hole in my heart.  It is a tender spot, one I don’t like to go to often because it hurts. 

The only way I can describe it is like this: it’s like I’ve been given this load to carry - the weight isn’t near as heavy as it used to feel, but it’s still something I carry every single day.  It’s woven into my life - my being - my story.  As much as I wish I could go back and change the story for myself, I can’t. 

There are days I feel like God gives me a glimpse into the reasons why I was given this load.  When I hold my darling Annie Lou, tears streaming down her face, because she misses her own dad, and I hold her sweet face and look her in the eyes and say with the most sincere and genuine heart: “I know.”  Because more than anyone else in this world, I really do understand and can empathize with her hurt.

Where am I now?

Well, I am on a journey right now with God.  I’m facing a lot of those hurts and pains that happened to me as a little girl.  I cry a LOT.  I am mourning something that I am sure what/if/how I should mourn, but I am mourning nonetheless.  And day by day, I’m learning to let my Heavenly Father come in and fill those empty places and hold the little girl that resides in my heart. 

To those of you that are walking around with a half-empty love tank, I see you.  You matter.  Your hurts matter.  It’s not silly or dumb to feel sad…just feel it and get on with it.  Get help.  Find a community of believers that can speak truth to your hurting heart and point you HOME to a truth that will leave you full of hope and joy. 

And then get on your knees and thank your Lord, your Heavenly Father, for never leaving you and always loving you.  No matter what. 




You're a good, good Father...thank you, Lord!

Embracing your season when you're not sure what season you're in...

I started this little blog as a way to get some thoughts out of my head and into a space.  Most of the posts remain unpublished.  The only eyes that have seen those words are my own.  And that is okay.

For the past 3 years, I have been through so many seasons.

Scary seasons.  Stormy seasons.  Calm seasons.  Quiet seasons.  Joyful seasons.  Absolutely wonderful seasons.

And through most of those seasons, I have been writing.

But then I stopped.

Let me see if I can explain the stirrings of my heart...

When I was a single mama, going through a divorce, raising two little ladies, I had much to say.  And people wanted to hear from me.  I didn't talk much about what was going on, but every now and then, once the healing reached a certain place for me, I'd talk about what was going on - in my head and my heart.  People would share with me how those words had touched them, or they were glad I was writing again, or maybe they had passed them on to a friend facing a similar road.  I felt like I had much to say AND an audience to listen.

In that season, I focused very little on the future.  I was so reliant and dependent on God.  I could barely get out of the bed before I would mutter the words: "Just today, Lord.  Just today. Nothing more." That was literally all I could handle -- that day.

I look at pictures from that season -- particularly of pregnant-with-Birdie Lena, full of growing life -- the fear and worry and doubt hidden deep in her eyes, almost impossible for me to see.  Instead, I see God in her.  I see a woman clinging to her Lord.  And it's absolutely beautiful to me.



So, what's different in this season?

For one, I am married again.  I have a partner, a best friend, a supporter and an encourager. And he's amazing if you don't know already.

I am so blissfully and deliriously happy -- seriously!

Because I spent so much time in a season of hurt and uneasiness, I am really unsure how to live in this abundant season.  I know, it sounds crazy as I type it out. 

These are the kinds of thoughts I have to myself and ones I oftentimes speak out loud when my dear husband asks me why I'm not writing anymore:
- No one wants to hear from a happy Lena. 
- I have nothing of value to say - I am just happy and blessed.
- I will probably just get on people's nerves because I have nothing to say but good things, and people aren't used to that from me.

These are all the crazy lies I hear and actually say out loud to myself.  So crazy, right?

The truth is, I am so happy and blessed.  But I have challenges all the same in this season as I did in previous seasons.  They are different challenges -- ones that don't feel nearly as overwhelming, but challenges all the same.

I am still dependent on my Lord, it just feels like it's a different kind of dependency.  Like in those 3 previous years, I was a newborn Lena, completely unable to do anything without her Lord.  And now, I'm an able-to-stand-and-feed-herself Lena - I still need my daily nourishment and daily time with the Lord - but I'm no longer a newborn.  There are days I miss those newborn days -- and I wish there was a way for me to verbalize how and why I miss those days, but I'm not sure how to do that right now.  That's a post for another day I guess.

So here I am in this weird place that just doesn't feel quite right to me, but I'm learning to be still and sit and just BE in a season.  Not freak out, not change everything, just be (this is Lena's typical routine when something feels off).  And in the process, I hope I will learn more and sit back and enjoy the shift that is happening in the meantime.

For now, here's to bringing writing back into my life and sharing those words with you, too.