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Since the start of this forum I have been forced to dig back through memories that have either been long ago shut out of my mind or faded to a sort of dreamlike remembrance. Every night “tell me a story about when you were a little kid” inevitably comes from one of my sons. I have many golden memories of adventure, friendship, and un-matched fun to tell them. I have other memories that are hard to process. I think that is probably because they were captured as a child with a childlike understanding of the world, but are now being processed as an adult. I have found it helpful to categorize and define some of the emotions and negative memories. I wrote out some of my musings and what has helped me process them. Again…I run the risk of sounding preachy… but these are first for me then if anyone else can relate you are invited into my mind.
But first a stream of conciseness on the golden memories of Via:
8oclock, 9oclock rock, 10oclock, 11oclock 12midnight……SHARK!!!! a dirt track, wooden basketball backboards, and concrete weights, shulapee, shenello, shank, chimarrao. :Lizards on the wall, MAF candy drops from the sky, dry season and the smell of the first rain. Riding your bike at top speed absolutely everywhere you went. The piece of railroad track hanging on a tree that was struck for meals at the refei. Mopping, red floors, buffing, box socials, second half, hallelujah bugs, mango trees, and roller-skating on the only sidewalk in miles. Brasilete, clay tiles, power outages, and dust devils. Butter bridge, the falls, turtle rock, jaguar falls, the canyon, and jararacas. Café com leite, and the daily pilgrimage to a mailbox that was nearly always empty. Workdetail, wondering the valley, X-tudos, X-bacon, and the infamous X-Americano. As if putting a hotdog on anything makes it Americano. The squawking of parrots, and certain “Aunts and Uncles” that are still to this day closer than your real ones and friends that became the standard by which all other people on this earth are compared… and only a select few can measure up.
Transference:
I love to see some of the positive people being named by name on some of the blogs because there were those Jon and Lisa Parkers, Bing and Lolly Hare, Aunt Marcy, Aunt Jean, How many times did Tio Paulo fix my stupid GIJOE figures. These guys are rockstars in my book. Transference technically has to do with “the redirection of feelings and desires and especially of those unconsciously retained from childhood toward a new object.” But if Mr. SF would allow me a little freedom in his definition- I have a tendency to generalize, to blanket cover everyone who ever lived on the land. It has been helpful for me to isolate negative memories and experiences to specific people, attitudes, beliefs, philosophies and behaviors.
legalism:
I have heard this term being thrown around here and there and thought it might worthwhile to muse this topic, if for no one else, for myself. Typically legalism is a term used to talk about how someone sees himself before God. Specifically, he sees himself in good or poor standing in direct accordance with his performance. In other words if I do certain things, obey certain rules, and abstain from other activities, don’t break rules, don’t say certain words- then I will be in good standing with God. A legalistic person thinks that he is ok with God if he has been good. Conversely, he thinks he is not ok with God if he sins. There are several problems here. The first is that God chose you before the foundations of the world to lavish His love and mercy on you regardless of your merit. (Eph 1, rom 5) He didn’t look at you and me like the guys picking teams on the quatra wall and say hum that one will be good on my team he keeps the rules. The second problem is the legalistic person has to choose what rules are the important ones, since he himself can’t keep them all. Therefore, he applies them to his advantage. He’ll hold you to his set of rules, but turn a blind eye to his shortcomings. Often this will even extend into hair length, type of clothes and styles, types of music, certain words (poo-is ok; poop- less ok; crap- not ok; $h!t- sinful to udder even though the object of all these words is the same the arrangement of the letters make it a sin), drinking alcohol, or even hanging out with people who do any who do. Lastly… keeping rules provides away to feel good about yourself, but it is just religion… and religion saves no man. And I think this is where I often struggle. I began by faith, but want to continue by law. I say I was saved by grace- nothing that I did. But then I act as if I now find favor with God if I keep the rules. Its such an old problem Galatians 3.3. Those dudes struggled with the same thing. As if -oh I sinned again, God must be really upset with me. As if God’s feelings depended on me, as if I actually had it all together and was worthy of God’s love until that one act.
Of course the opposite of legalism is license. Did anyone else find that after leaving a place that emphasized rules the tendency was to go to the opposite extreme but then finding that uncomfortable come back to the rules? License of course says that God is good with me because of Christ so it doesn’t matter what I do. Freedom baby! Purple hair here I come! (I literally dyed my hair purple and pierced my ears!) Some of that is just a lot of fun experimenting with things that just weren’t previously permissible. But it is crazy how our freedom can possibly trip us up just as much as legalism.
stringent:
A lot of times we use the term legalistic when we actually just mean strict. Mr. Fusca68 mentioned feeling as though we were always walking on eggshells. Others mentioned guilt, shame. I think a lot of rules at Via had nothing to do with peoples perception of their standing before God. There were just a lot of kids and if you didn’t draw the line somewhere it got messy and situational driven. In my memory, the line was just waaay too tight. And when the line is way too tight it becomes impossible to enforce the rules consistently and evenly. And if you try, it seems that is all you end up doing… enforcing the rules. Modifying behavior… but the heart doesn’t change. Its like day after day sweeping the spider web out of the corner. But until you deal with the spider- the web will be there everyday…. eventually you get to a point that the rules are devoid of relationship and actually breeds rebellion. As a parent of three precocious boys, I totally understand the temptation to just say “don’t do that. Just stop it.” NO BIKES ON THE SIDEWALK!! As Mr. Thornery illustrated the source of such rule came from too many caloi/monarch/pedestrian encounters. Good rule. However, I remember being grounded for literally one of my tires crossing the line out of the designated bike parking triangle. No malicious intent, no rebellion, no one was even close to risk an injury. I remember my buddy (o yea who broke a paddle by lining your pockets with combs for a spanking) getting nearly a week in his room for riding his bike off the sidewalk towards the baseball diamond instead of out the back entrance. Instead of taking the time to teach respect for others, care for each other (the heart behind the rule) it was -you are grounded-NO BIKES ON THE SIDEWALK!. I remember two weeks in my room for a careless word. I accused a girl of having an indecent bathing suit and it offended her- granted I needed correcting no doubt about it- little boys can be too creative. But there wasn’t correction. It was a philosophy. The prevailing philosophy of the day. In the hands of some it was just strict. In the hands of others it was merciless.
abuse. G.R.A.C.E. has done a fantastic job defining this term in their report. A book I would recommend for anyone who went though physical or sexual abuse is Dan Allender’s The Wounded Heart. The cover is…well, lame, but the content is fantastic. Please read this book if you are struggling as an adult to come to peace about what happened to you as a child.
mistrust.
I think this is the one that stings in our minds. -Because mothers and fathers trusted others with the care of their children, and that trust was misused. Trusted friends behaved as ones whom they were trusted to protect children against. Mistrust rots in our bones.
Loyalist.
I was one, so it is easy to spot. This is a sticky one because being loyal is a good trait. A loyal friend is faithful and consistent; hard to find. A loyal employee is patient with company mistakes. He waits it out when financially it is uncertain. He doesn’t throw his teammates under the bus when pressure comes. A loyalist (and I am totally making this stuff up- but it is how I see it) is a loyal employee on drugs. (not literally). He is loyal to the company regardless of fault. He sticks up for the corporation even when it is in the wrong because he sees the good aspects and is grateful for its positive contributions. This is the point where his loyalty ceases to be a virtue and serves to cover up wrong doing, impede justice. It’s mercy applied to the wrong party. It’s acquitting the guilty. What the loyalist fails to see is that there is nothing to fear in truth and love. Truth will speak for itself and his “protecting” doesn’t help the corporation, it actually hurts it. I loved visiting an NTM employee on the field a couple of years ago and he was discussing a difficulty he was having on his field. He said I see the mission (NTM) as a vehicle. It gets me to the tribe. Without it I wouldn’t be able to get there. Now and then I have to stop and fix a tire. Now and then I have to wench my way out of a mud hole. So far we have been able to work together. If I ever found that the problem was so great, that it didn’t get me there any longer I would buy a new vehicle (speaking of mission agency). That analogy is sensible. However, the loyalist will hear that story and in his heart he will exclaim nooooo. You have to keep the vehicle going. He has lost sight of the end goal and is obsessed with his vehicle. Forgot the end for the means, the tail wags the dog.
Lastly a little of my journey:
As a little dormer I use to lay in my bed awake till late at night and early morning. I had re-occurring dreams of being dropped off alongside the road. I felt guilty but for what I didn’t know. I would pray and tell God I was sorry for whatever it was that I did. I felt such great shame for the things I did wrong. I would get angry, loose my temper, habitually lie, and then feel soo horrible. After supper I would often run though the little dorm so that no one would follow me. I would run past the office hide for just a minute on the valley side of the office building then run out to two trees that were out by themselves in the field between the Callahan house and the front Mata-burro. It was a lonely place. A good sort of lonely. There I would talk to God as if he were right beside me. When I look back at those holy moments I think of Acts 17.26 which says that he himself determined the times set for them the exact places where they should live. God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. It was in my pain and loneliness that I experienced God’s presence. It was there that I tasted his peace.
I am sooo very sorry and burdened for you my brothers and sisters whose abuse was atomic bombic in nature. I have no idea what you feel. You guys were my family. It kills to see you hurt. I am praying for you to tangibly feel and experience healing, peace and joy in his presence.
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