Can we be honest here? Deep thoughts by Sarah

Can I be honest here for a minute?


I don’t really want to write this blog. I don’t. I’d rather go lie down and veg out. Or pretend to be productive working on a brochure or website or something. Or paint. Or talk on the phone to someone. Or even just write about something funny or silly.

But I got something to say… not to anyone in particular. Just in general.

So a few weeks ago I somehow I found myself one evening watching oh, I don’t know, several hours’ worth of the show ANIMAL HOARDERS on Animal Planet (yes, all caps is necessary). If you know Hilton and me, you know we are not big TV watchers. Reruns of The Office and certain classic movies are pretty much the only thing that captivate us anymore. Because we’re just so counter-culture like that? No, because we’re too busy catching up on life in the evenings once the kids go to bed.

I digress.

So I’m lying there in bed watching show after show as if it’s the most fascinating thing I’ve seen in years (this is possibly true). I’m only slightly gorked out on Percocet (more on that later), but the entire situation is enough to just put me in a light trance and percolate some interesting thoughts in my little head.

It doesn’t take me long to determine the show is set up with a set formula: introduce deranged person, give a sweeping overview of the trainwreck that is their life, go back in time through person’s ancient history to discover exactly when it all went wrong (and it always goes WAY back), interview concerned family members, introduce a third party to help person pick up the pieces, show person taking steps to make their life more on-the-grid, and then wrap up with a happy update.

Just good TV, all the way around (bet you can’t tell if I’m being sarcastic here or not). Considering my addiction to the A&E show Intervention (yes, I get the irony), it shouldn’t be surprising that a similar show PLUS animals would suck me in. In the course of time I watched, I learned the story of a couple with 100 cats in their home, a man who was overwhelmed with caring for a huge pack of feral dogs, a many-times divorced older lady with a bird problem, and an older couple with 83 dogs. Not a typo.

Of course, I had time to pontificate on these people and how screwed up they were…. Which is an easy task. But I was more intrigued by the pattern across the board for ALL of them… they were making up for a deep-down need that most of the time originated in childhood to be LOVED. To be WANTED. To have a PURPOSE.

Oh how sad it was. Little girls who never got the attention they so desperately needed. Runaways who had no place to turn to. Wives who were ignored and mistreated by their husbands. Young men who were literally kicked out of their home because they didn’t “fit in” their family. Even mothers who’d seemingly led a normal life until their kids were old enough to move out and no longer needed them anymore.

I cried. I’ll admit it. These people were LOST. They had a huge, gaping hole in their hearts that they were trying to fill with ANIMALS. At first glance, you wonder why animals? So many people turn to other extreme addictions… but animals… they depend on you. They love you unconditionally. They accept you…

But still… when it comes down to it, at the end of the day they are ANIMALS… and their redeeming power is limited…. Right? You could see the struggle they all had coming to grips with this reality. Each person made the decision toward the end of each show to part with some of their animals and make a step toward recovery. Watching them make that decision and go through with it was wrenching. It was like listening to the story of that rock-climber who had to cut off his own arm when he got wedged down in a ravine… You KNOW it was hard. You KNOW it took so much courage and conviction. But they KNEW they had to do it to be free of this sickness and false belief system they’d been trapped under.

Pretty deep huh? Think it doesn’t apply to you? Ready to close this browser window? Hold up, hear me out.

So much of the stuff we see on TV or read about involves extreme stories, extreme lengths, extreme circumstances…. It catches our attention. We are drawn to the intense.

But I also think we are drawn to it because on some level whether we will admit it or not, we can empathize. We know what it’s like to hurt, to hold onto a cure that is only for the symptom, to cover up our problems with something pretty, to throw ourselves into a purpose that we’ve convinced ourselves will fulfill us.

It’s just usually on a much smaller scale… we’re all screwed up. There’s just a continuum of screwed-upness (yep, just made myself a new word).

Most of us never come face-to-face with that reality. We might laugh and say we’re all a mess and no one’s perfect, but usually that’s as deep as it gets. Who wants to be that honest? It’s ugly and messy and what if damage is permanently done? I have heard this world would be a much better place if all our personal darkness was front and center on the evening news every day…. I’m not suggesting we all go on national TV and air our crap…. But how about some authenticity and vulnerability? … starting with ourselves.

Allow me to go first. A few months ago I hurt myself running. Because I am stubborn and vain and not very intelligent, I pushed through the pain and continued to exercise. This happened not once but twice. Five weeks, two doctors’ appointments, two MRIs, many tears, a great deal of harassing of my poor dad, and lots of “quiet time” later, I have come to the realization that I am broke. I have a muscle tear in an extremely difficult place to heal, and my recovery in the short term is uncertain.

Let me be clear that this is not a running injury. This is a disabling situation that requires I am stationary as much as possible. No lifting, no housework, no going up or down the stairs for goodness’ sake. Sound like a dream come true? Does anyone remember what 11 weeks of bedrest was like for me?

Suffice to say, it’s been very humbling. I can’t get away from this problem. It has taken away my independence and seemingly, much of my identity. I’ve been lost. I’ve been depressed. I’ve been angry. BUT (there’s always a but, right?), I’ve been reminded. This is NOT my identity. I am not what I do or what I am able to do.

I’ve been humbled beyond belief by my helplessness and in turn, Hilton’s care for me and our family. Rebuked for my vanity and selfishness. Realized my impatience and misplaced values. Provided for time after time. Lifted up by family and friends. And brought to my knees in gratitude for His love and mercy that fills all my gaps if I will get out of the way and let Him.

With so many options for soaking up our problems, it’s just really easy to try to make a deep wound “all better” when a symptom pops up. I’m starting to think that trying to immediately fix it is just as much avoidance as running away. I think sometimes we are called to just sit in the misery and be humbled for however long it takes for Him to do His thing.

Whether your problems qualify you to be featured in a documentary or you’re putting lots of seemingly harmless band-aids on your hurt, recognize we all live in that place and we don’t just need intervention… we need His restoration.