The Identity Project

There is a crisis in our world. It is not far away in a third world country. It’s right here in our community. It’s in our schools. It’s in our homes and yes it’s even in our churches. It’s in our children… It’s in our hearts.

It is an identity crisis.

We do not know who we are. The world struggles to find it. People, everywhere, scurry around trying to find the answer. They try to find out what defines them. People seek to find meaning in their life… It’s what we all want: purpose.

Even in the church, we struggle. We know our identity is in Christ… in our minds. But this is a truth that is battling to penetrate our hearts. What does that mean exactly? What does it look like to find our identity in Christ? How do we walk in that truth?

I have found this battle raging in the hearts of many people but there is a segment of society where this struggle is most evident: teenagers. These young adults have their identity wrapped up in what boy they are dating, who their friends are, what kind of clothes they wear…

What happens if the person they are dating breaks up with them? What happens if their friends are unhappy with them or if they do not have name-brand clothes? They find themselves flailing around trying to secure a new identity. These young people grasp for the next thing… the next person to hold their hand so they can have a new identity. If they do not find a hand to hold, they are lost in despair.

Is this something we should be concerned about? Won’t these teens just “get over it.” Many do not. According to the CDC, suicide is the third leading cause of death of young people ages 15-24. Apparently this identity crisis is a little more serious than we like to think.

Our children are seeking to define who they are in a society where even the adults are confused… in a society that gives them very little guidance. We seem to think they are best to discover it for themselves.

I disagree.

We are the church. We must give these teens a hand to hold. This is a battle of life and death. Even if our teens are not despairing to the point of taking their own life, what kind of life is it to go from relationship to relationship seeking to find the right one… the one that will define who they are? When the answer is already there… right at our finger tips.

I do not believe most young people will discover this truth for themselves. We must show them.

The Identity Project is a weekend to discover our identity… a weekend where we will take hold of our teen’s hands and embark on the journey to discover who we are. I know that we, as grown ups are a little confused on the topic. That’s OK. We will discover these truths together… Moms and daughters… mentors and friends… one on one.

We will use music and drama, paper and clay, fellowship, food, and friends. We will open our bibles and open our hearts. We will begin a journey of the heart. A journey that I hope we will all continue long after the weekend has ended.

But we have to start somewhere…

This is a starting point… the head of the trail… It will open a conversation with our teens we are afraid to have. Do you know what defines you? Do you want to discover? Many times our teens are more willing than we are. You just have to open the door. I know you need help.

Here is your help.

We will talk about dreams, goals, choices, friends, and yes… boys! We will give the girls successful ways to guard their purity and we will give comfort and hope to those who have already surrendered theirs. We will not just tell the girls what not to do. We will show them what to do. They will hear testimonies of young people who are walking in victory and the testimonies of those who have reclaimed the things they thought were lost…. testimonies of those who know exactly where their identity lies.

The Identity Project Weekend

Where: Winshape Wilderness Retreat

When: February 25-27 2011

Who: Moms and teen-daughters Mentors and teen girls

Recommended for girls 14 to 18 (Younger girls will be permitted in special circumstances)

Details: Arrive 7pm Friday Depart 11:30pm Sunday Bring a pillow, sleeping bag or bed linens, and towel(s) as these are not provided

Cost: $175 per pair Includes meals on Saturday and Breakfast on Sunday.

Deposit of $75 is due January 15th and the rest ($100) is due February 15th

Extending a Hand to the Open Door Home

Special Chicken Ministries and West Rome Baptist Church have decided to reach out to the Open Door Home, a children’s home in Rome Georgia, and invite these young people to participate in The Identity Project. We need your help. The teenagers need scholarship money to attend the full weekend. They will also need a mentor.

The mentor will give one on one attention to these girls for the weekend. No extensive training is required, just an open heart and a desire to give some of your time. All we are asking is that you commit your time for the weekend and two one-hour leadership meetings in the weeks before the event.

Would you consider donating scholarship money for a girl? Would you consider being a mentor? We need Christian women who are willing to give just a little bit of themselves for such a significant spot on these girls’ journey.

Consumed with Grief

This year ends with loved ones lost. I have struggled and fought through the Christmas season because there are empty places at the table. Those loved ones did not die of natural causes. They died by their own hand. This is not the kind of death that leaves a sense of peace. It only leaves an empty hole. Two of these women were women I worked with in recovery. I spilled my story to them and they shared theirs with me. I trusted them and we worked through tough stuff together. We were not family but we held each other’s hands. LIFE is hard and many times our families are not there for us. In recovery we made new family. My family was not there for me because they were broken. They had so many obstacles to overcome, it is difficult to raise a family when you cannot get yourself out of the pit. I can relate. I struggle each day to be the best mother I can while I find myself a broken little girl. A broken little girl who cared for a sick mother and watch her father break down over and over, to the point that he wanted to die.

Suicide forms a backdrop in my life. Most kids remember their life based on what grade of school they were in. I remember my life by periods when my parents were stable and when they were not. I praise God that he sent people to help me and my brother along the way. When my Dad attempted suicide he would get treatment and then come home and kind of start over again. My Mom had very little coping skills and I think the many years of this atmosphere only drew her further down. Blame is not my goal here but only to tell a story.

As an adult I tried to help my Mom see her need for help. It was only in her last few years that she tried to get help. Even then she was unable to be consistent. She bounced from place to place claiming they couldn’t help her. I think when you’re 50 and your family is trying tough love, it is difficult to change. I had spent years letting her drag me into the drama and finally I wanted to let someone else be the listening ear.

Last year in the summer time my mother called me and told me she had taken enough pills to kill herself and wanted to say goodbye to me. I remember the conversation vividly because months later, in April of this year, she did the same thing to take her life and succeeded. She drove away from home, got a hotel room, and killed herself.

There is a song by Superchic that says:

”Please tell me you'll fight this fight.
I can't see without your light
I need you to breathe into my life
Don't tell me this is goodbye
I won't grieve - it's not yet time
Each breath breathed is keeping hope alive

So keep breathing
Go on breathe in
Keep on breathing
Go on breathe in
Just breathe”

I feel like I fought and fought to keep Mom alive. That day I fought to save her and I said these words to her over and over. And yet what I fought to keep breathing died.

I feel consumed with grief over the loss this year. I am angered at those who would say I am better off without my Mom. Yes, she created chaos in my life many times but now there is a hole there. I am thankful for people who have come back into my life since she died but I still miss her. I am angered at people who would say that I will always wonder what I could have done. I don’t wonder! I did it all. I spent hours on the phone calling the police or neighbors to help. I spent hours talking her down off the edge. I spoke to her doctors. I spoke to the hospitals. I went to family counseling. Year after year I did this! I drove to take her to the hospital. I drove to pick her up when they let her out! I refused to pick her up when they let her out. I talked to her for hours on end. I refused to talk to her for hours on end. I rode the roller coaster with her, for her, and for me. So I would have the peace of mind when some careless person wants to say, “You’ll always wonder what you could have done….”

One of my best friends, who had helped me through a difficult month of my Dad’s life hanging in the balance after his suicide attempt, was one of the first people on my scene when I got the news that Mom was dead. And the first thing she said to me after I was handed the phone was: “You did everything you possibly could to save her life.”

And ultimately she took her life. God had written love on her arm and she wiped it away and believed a lie, despite my efforts, despite my love and heart-wrenching conversations.

So what am I left with in my grief? What is the legacy that I can walk away with? What do I do now?
Because I am broken, I see the broken. Because I have fought and others have fought for me, I want to fight for others. I cannot do anything about the past. I cannot go back and say the things I wished I could say. I said it all! What I grieve for is the now. I want to be able to tell her that I love her now. I want to see her eyes light up with the season, but I cannot.

So what I have resolved to do is the thing that I can. I could not make my Mom love herself, but I can choose to love myself. I cannot change my Mom’s future but I might be able to change others with my story, with her story. I have some beautiful women and young women in my life who are broken. I see they are broken, because I have been broken. I want to pour words of life into their life. When your brokenness is all consuming, it is difficult to see even one ray of hope. I want to give them that hope.
Life has ended for my Mom but life has not ended for me, so in a sense life continues. I am a part of her story and I am a part of her. God has designed this miracle so life will continue, but it is so much more than just simply breathing… surviving… existing. It is about breathing in the life and refusing death that pound on the door of your heart. It is about thriving in the midst of trial and pain. It is about standing alone with God in the rain and that being enough! It is about setting a mile marker on the road, turning a rock on end, cleansing and marking a moment, yes; erecting an Ebenezer and saying: THUS FAR THE LORD HAS HELPED ME!

I will write love on other’s arms so that in some way it may penetrate their hearts. I will go toward the hard things. I will press toward the mark. I will say the things that are hard to say and open doors we would rather not open. I will wrestle with the angel and rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the paths to dwell in. I will put my faith in no one or nothing but the ONE with the nail scared hands. The one who I pray to at my mother’s leading so many years ago, that lay in the manger at Christmas time. A tiny tot who didn’t really understand prayed that the baby Jesus would save me because that is why he came to earth.

I will tell my story so that others can believe that redemption is possible.