Rejecting rejection; excluding exclusion

Have you ever experienced rejection or exclusion?

I have. So many times. And it hurts just as badly the 85th time it happens as the first.

I've been excluded from friend groups because I wasn't enough of whatever they were looking for.

I've been rejected by crushes because I didn't look a certain way.

I've been denied acting parts for which I auditioned for the same reason.

A client has told my boss to fire me because he didn't like my basic attitude in my work for him.

I've been told by a recoiling schoolmate, "You're so fat," accompanied by a disgusted look that told me my fatness carried with it my entire unworthiness to be in his sphere for any reason at any time.

I've been resented and ignored for weeks at a time by the person who was supposed to love me most.

I've been invited by church leaders who'd known me and worked with me for six years to leave the church because the means to my emotional wellbeing conflicted with their vision of God's holiness in my life.

I've been invited by a different church's leaders to consider leaving the church if I wasn't willing to submit to their teachings on not marrying an "unbeliever."

Those all hurt, but it's even worse to see my kids experience rejection and exclusion. 

With my older kid, I saw it in gymnastics. D was talented, but not "the same" as the other program participants. Their arms'-length treatment was overt.

With my younger kid, I see it when a potential new friend's parent asks me, "Oh, is your other child a boy or a girl?" and I can't give them a simple answer to their seemingly simple question.

Or when a woman at a playground asked for our phone number so her son could play with "your daughter," then I had to explain that he's actually a boy with long hair. She made no attempt to quiet her nonverbal "I'll never use this phone number."

To watch another human totally write off one of your kids is excruciating.

Everyone wants to belong somewhere. Everyone wants to be accepted for who they are. Everyone, even the most introverted, wants to have someone they can talk to, with whom they can be their genuine selves, and not have to filter out bits in order to avoid rejection.

Except for a couple of the examples above, most of the incidents I relay took place in "Christian" circles. At a private Christian school. In Christian churches. Christian parents trying to raise Christian children.

Of all of the places in the world, the safest should be someone's home. The next safest should be the church, if you choose to attend a church.

This weekend, our church's online service was one of the most comforting and indicative of who we are as a body that I've experienced in a long time. I'm going to share it here, because I think it's important. 

Some churches repeat the phrase, "God accepts you where you ware, but he doesn't want you to stay there." That's not unconditional love. You can get into the nuances about how, sure, ideally people grow and change and become better versions of themselves. But if God truly IS love, then that love is eternal and unchanging and complete and transcends any of our brokenness. 

Also, I'll be frank in that I used to know very securely what I believed, and I don't anymore. But if I believe anything, it's that everyone deserves to know that they're valuable and valid and welcome and cherished. And I know I can guarantee that for anyone who ever wants to visit our church (hopefully in person at some point next year, but you can join us online until then). 

For the rest of my life, I'll err on the side of love, if it turns out to be an error. I don't believe it is. 

The Subjugation of Pain

Today was fun. I mean that, actually. I was saying it sarcastically, but until it wasn't, it was.

Mal and I were playing one of his favorite new games, Scare and Seek. At one point, I'd hidden behind the laundry room door. Whenever Mal's looking for me, I "meow" to let him know when he's getting colder. I'd sounded for him just as Rudy came around the corner and meowed back to me. Mal came down the hall and said, "I heard it twice!" Rudy meowed again, and this time walked back behind the door, under my legs. Mal came around the corner and asked, "Rudy, have you seen my mom--- AAAH!" as he came face to face with me. It was pretty funny.

Later, though, we were playing Thunder Hollow Crazy Eight demolition derby. Mal rides on his little sit-on tricycle scooter, and I ride on a plasma car. Although you propel the plasma car by turning the steering wheel, to get started, I usually push off with my feet, otherwise Mal, who is totally foot-powered, gets away from me. Today, the car shot out from under me and I landed flat on my tailbone.

Have you ever injured your coccyx? Because I have. In high school. And I felt shots of pain for more than ten years after that injury, and after several months of chiropractic adjustments.

Anyway, suffice it to say that I'm pathetic right now. But the interesting part of all of this, to me, is another element of back pain.

For the past two or three months, I've been having increasingly strong sciatica down the back of my left upper leg, similar to where it was when I had a ruptured disc. In fact, I can feel in my back where the problem is. It's getting more debilitating, but I can avoid it by having my lower back well supported... Except when I'm nursing on my left side, which is how our beds are set up. Oh well. It's a work in progress.

Anyhoo, after I hurt my tailbone today, when I was sitting on the couch, I did an experiment, crossing my left leg over my right, in a position I know hurts the sciatica. I was vaguely aware of that stress, but the new injury "quieted" the previous pain in a noticeable way.

I'll be interested to see how it feels when we go to bed tonight. Don't worry. I definitely learned a few years ago to listen to my body telling me to cut out something that's hurting me. But I can do a little light experimentation, right?