love

I’m Tired of Living a Lie

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As I approach my 42nd birthday in a couple of weeks, I realize that I have been living a lie about relationships for most of those years. No, it isn’t the lie that I need anyone to feel fulfilled. In fact, I’m no longer convinced that IS a lie, actually. Hear me out, please.

Before I dive head-first into this topic, a quick disclaimer: I wrote about codependency in a previous column which, without a careful reading of that column, may seem to the casual reader like I am about to contradict what I said there. However, I was careful to point out in that piece that I am not an advocate of necessarily ending relationships just to cure codependency. My contention was that an ADDICTION to particular relationships is unhealthy, not the relationships themselves. Got it? Ok. Let’s get cracking.

I have been shamed for many years for feeling like I need someone in my life in order to feel complete. Most of this shaming, by the way, has come from counselors and “relationship professionals” (including ministers) who believe that we should only need ourselves and/or God to feel complete. That made so much sense to me for so long that I began preaching that message myself, but I have to tell you that it dawned on me recently that I was missing something in that narrative that I couldn’t quite identify.

Yes, we should learn to love ourselves and accept ourselves and forgive ourselves for the mistakes we have made. I won’t argue that point, but I will argue that we should not do all of that to the complete exclusion of others. After really thinking through this, I don’t believe that only needing yourself and God is even Biblical.

genesis-2-18
See?

The Bible records that Adam was the only human on earth at the point of Genesis 2:18. No other human had ever existed, so Adam presumably wasn’t even aware that he had need of someone else to share his life with. God saw the need, however, and decided to address it. If you accept the Biblical account of creation, then you have to assume that God created man to be a relational creature. If you accept that God created us to be relational creatures, how does it then follow that we should NEVER need someone else to make us feel complete? How can we be complete without the full realization of God’s design for our lives — for our very existence?

Point number one of this column is that I will never be shamed or ASHAMED again for desiring relationships with other human beings. For feeling fulfilled with good ones and unfulfilled by bad ones.

I am miserable at this point in my life, and that’s something I refuse to lie about or gloss over or outright hide anymore, ok? I am NOT miserable, however, because I’ve sought relationships with people when I should have been only finding myself and living one-on-one with God and no one else. I am miserable because my need for relationships was so overwhelming that it crowded out my better judgment about WHICH relationships to accept.

Simply put, God created me with a need for relationships and that is not something I can merely train myself to ignore or shame myself out of seeking because Pop Psychology says I shouldn’t. What I must do, however, is recognize that this need can drag me into some really bad decisions (and most certainly has). Our inner hungers need to be fed, but in a healthy way — not from the scraps that someone decides to toss our way just to amuse themselves.

As I fully recognize that I need others in my life — and to be accepted in their lives as well — I need to lay a few ground rules for myself that hopefully will change the way I go about this and make for a more fulfilling second half of my existence.

  1. Set boundaries to protect myself. ME TIME is important too, and I have lost sight of that along the way. If I ever want to be a good friend and be able to accept good friendship from others, I really do have to have a pretty good grip on myself and my life.
  2. Be available for others in a truly GIVING way. It is so easy to seek out friendships that only meet our needs. I must recognize the ways in which I can enhance the lives of others and not be afraid to invest in them.
  3. Refuse to accept less than I am giving. I must stop accepting people who only take and have little or no regard for returning the friendship they have received from me. No more one-way streets. No more being used and discarded.

dictatorships

Point number two: I believe it is important to relate to others and allow them to relate to you, and I don’t believe it’s wrong to expect any relationship to be a two-way street.

Don’t allow anyone to dictate all the terms of your relationship with them. You will only experience a relational deficit that defeats the purpose of inner harmony. It is okay to expect friendship to be reciprocal, and it is okay to do something about it if it isn’t.

Bottom line? I need people in my life. I need to be in theirs. What I do NOT need is anyone who is willing to accept all I have to offer, yet marginalize me and then shame me for being disappointed in them.

I need relationships. What I don’t need is dictatorships.

From drifter to angel: One man’s journey to life

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The man’s eyes darted around the room as he settled down at a table in the McDonalds on Saint Louis. Every tiny sound made him jump, which was the only interruption to the constant shivering from deep in his bones. His fingerless gloves were a punchline to some cruel joke about avoiding frostbite, and his tattered overcoat was a sieve for the unyielding frosty wind swirling just outside the door.

I asked where his home was and he favored me with an ironic grin. His food sat in front of him untouched as he pondered how to answer my question. At last, he plucked a steaming hot fry from its sleeve and considered it briefly before cramming it in his mouth.

“You mean right now?” he asked. “You’re looking at it.”

My confusion must have been apparent as I processed this statement, so he held up one hand and said, “I don’t have one. Home is wherever I am when someone asks.”

He told of walking most of the way from Kentucky to Arkansas to collect on what he believed was the promise of a job at a local horse farm. When he gave me the name of the person he spoke with, I suspected right away that something was not right with this story. After speaking with that person privately, it was confirmed that there was no job offer and I knew this situation had to be handled delicately.

I encountered dozens of indigent persons in my role as the chaplain for the Independence County Sheriff’s Office, but this encounter initially tripped my danger alarm. After making sure he was not a fugitive from justice, I arranged to give him shelter outside town for a couple of days. A local business donated some food vouchers, and the person he came to apply for a job with anonymously donated several hundred dollars to clothe him.

He set out on foot a couple of days later headed north. I got a call from him several months later and he reported that he was settled in Missouri—at a horse farm of course—and he had worked steadily for two months. He had a place to live, a little car to drive to and from work, and he was attending church. He needed one more favor from me, though.

“I have never had anything in my life,” he said with a cracked voice. “I was homeless most of my life and wasn’t sure whether I should even keep living when I got to Batesville. Now I have a place to lay down at night, food to eat, and clothes to wear that I can be proud of. But there’s still something missing.”

I tensed as I tried to guess where this was headed. He choked back a sob and continued.

“Several people in Batesville showed me a kindness and generosity that no one else ever has,” he said. “I was always the poor, dirty bum and most people wouldn’t give me a second look. Now that I have a solid job, I want to do something too. Can I send you some money to help the next person that wanders into town? It isn’t much, but I want to give what I can.”

I gave him a P.O. Box address, and three weeks later an envelope came that contained three $20 bills. That afternoon, I got another call from the Sheriff’s office that someone needed help.


Frank Vaughn, award-winning columnist and aspiring author, can be contacted at frank@fnvaughn.com. Follow/like Frank Vaughn on Facebook,
@fnvaughn on Twitter and fnvaughn on Instagram.

A truly impressive man

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I met an impressive man once under a cloudy sky in New Orleans. He was humble, quiet, and unassuming, yet he was followed by a throng of people who attended to his every need. His intelligent eyes examined every person in his path as he walked the trail of post-Katrina destruction.

After his tour, he stopped at Belle Chasse Naval Air Station to thank the military service members who were mobilized to help bring some sense of order to the fear and confusion gripping that city. A veteran himself, he displayed a swelling heart of pride and admiration for all of the uniformed personnel he came in contact with. His eyes moistened as he listened to the story of a young airman who, in the midst of escaping the ravaging floodwaters in her neighborhood, had to tie her dead mother to a corner of her house so she could return after the waters receded to claim her body. He hugged her before turning to the next person.

He settled into an outdoor picnic area for lunch with some of the personnel there, but seating was limited. The rest of us had to stand back a distance and try to capture this event with low-resolution cell phone cameras that were standard fare in 2005. As he ate, he laughed heartily at a comment made by one soldier sitting across from him, patted the shoulder of another sitting next to him, and seemed genuinely interested in the conversation going on around him.

As he got up to leave, I noticed a cordoned-off path leading from the picnic tables to a building. I assumed this would be the path of egress for this gentleman, so I walked over to one side of it and waited to see if he would come by. He rose from his table, collected his trash, and took it to a bin himself. I remember being surprised he didn’t have someone take it for him, and I was struck again at the humility that seemed out of place for a man of his stature.

I guessed he would quickly pass by and on to the next thing on his undoubtedly tight schedule, so I readied my cell phone in the hopes of catching a picture of him passing by. By this time others had joined me and I was sort of pressed against the tight rope outlining his path. He didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry though, as he slowly made his way up the walkway, pausing to shake hands along the way. He wasn’t running for office, so this was not the typical sprint-paced grip-and-grin.

As he made his way toward my position, I tensed in the hopes that I would be favored with a handshake as well. He stopped a few feet from me to shake another hand, and as he turned to walk again, he stopped in front of me. His eyes regarded me for a second and I was frozen in place. He flashed me a grin that had served him well throughout life, extended his hand, and said, “George Bush. The older one. Thank you for your service, son.” I managed to stammer out a “thank you, Mr. President…” as he turned to walk away. Mine was the last hand he shook in that place.

I have always lived by one governing principle in regard to other people: I am never as impressed with anyone as they are with themselves. What I saw that day was a former U.S. president touring a ravaged city and loving on the people who suffered, as well as those who were there to help. I was not impressed that day with the office he once held. I was deeply impressed with the man that he is.

 

Frank Vaughn, award-winning columnist and aspiring author, can be contacted at frankvaughn@gmail.com. Follow/like Frank Vaughn on Facebook, @fnvaughn on Twitter and fnvaughn on Instagram.

Early impressions of single parenthood

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I was the child of a single parent for the first eight years of my life. Being a child, I naturally could not understand why my dad was always tired, frustrated and easily irritated. I couldn’t capture the challenge of our situation from a real-world perspective because I was looking at life through the eyes of the innocent—the inexperienced.

I have been around single parents my whole life, and although the math in my head certainly told me that one person doing the job of two must be difficult, I couldn’t really capture the feeling of being singularly responsible for other lives. All I knew was that I was determined not to find out the hard way what it feels like. Then the Army happened.

I am now two weeks into being a “single parent” and I am quite certain I have learned some lessons from this experience, but if you tied me to a chair and shined a light in my face I don’t think I could honestly say what they are just yet. I’m still processing through the lessons, but here are some of the circumstances I have faced so far:

First, there just aren’t enough hours in a day. I have a 12-year-old who is in constant need of—stuff.

“Dad, I need burgundy jeans for a party this weekend. Oh. And by the way, there’s a party this weekend.”

She’s also at an age where school projects are becoming a regular thing, so…you know that school supply list they hand out at the beginning of the school year? Yeah. No one told me there would be supplemental lists every other week throughout the year as well. She wears school uniforms, and in the infinite wisdom of the school she attends, the embroidered-logo polo shirts they wear are white. WHITE. Seriously?! So those have to be replaced about every other month and, of course, there is only one place to get them and they have to be pre-ordered.

My two-year-old is a human wrecking ball. Besides being roughly twice the size of a normal kid his age, he is also right in the jet stream of his Terrible Twos, which means I clean the house top-to-bottom, only to discover 10 minutes later that it looks like Fallujah in 2003 all over again. He is also in the beginning stages of potty training, and I admit I have no idea what I am doing with THAT.

So much to do and so little time.

Second, there isn’t enough energy to maximize what precious time I do have. I hated going to school when I was a kid, but as a parent I realize what a God-send it is. Daycare, too. Someone else takes care of my kids while I go to work and try not to fall asleep drooling on my keyboard in the middle of a teleconference or long chain of emails regarding some facet of my job. I love my children more than my own life, but I get a little anxious when it’s time to pick them up because I know the whole tornado of life circumstances will blow in again as soon as they are in the car. I also hated going to bed when I was a kid, but again, as a parent, I absolutely LOVE bedtime—for them.

Finally, the circumstance in all of this that grips me the hardest is fear. Fear that something will get missed and my kids will suffer for it. Fear that I will make bad decisions and we will all pay the price. Fear that I will let them down somehow by succumbing to my own fatigue and stress and act in a way that they observe and store in their memory banks for future use in their own adult lives. I know they are watching my every move and depending on my every action, and if I get something majorly wrong, what am I shaping them into?

I am not sharing all of this as a means of complaining about my life. I’m merely sharing what I have experienced so far (and it has only been two weeks!) as a way of saying…thank you.

To all of you single parents out there who are really working your tails off and doing your absolute best, thank you. Thank you for not giving up. Thank you for working hard. Thank you for loving your kids enough to lose sleep, sacrifice personal desires and ambitions and life goals to make sure they have everything they need. Thank you for being the model of responsible adulthood that our children so desperately need to learn from.

I also want to say, don’t worry. You will make mistakes, you will falter and doubt yourself from time to time, and you will be hard on yourself. But don’t worry. If you are there for your kids and truly love them more than yourself, then you are already on the right path. Never forget that you are important and valued, and never forget that your children will always know who was there for them.

God bless you.

 

Frank Vaughn, award-winning columnist and aspiring author, can be contacted at frankvaughn@gmail.com. Follow/like Frank Vaughn on Facebook, @fnvaughn on Twitter and fnvaughn on Instagram.

Small gestures make a huge difference

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I’m going to ask you to do something that many people consider hard — sometimes even impossible. I’m going to ask you to take a look at the world that exists outside of the 3-foot radius around you.

We travel through this world with to-do lists rattling around in our brains. We have people to take care of that we call “family” and we have responsibilities such as paying bills, feeding the kids, showing up for work, gassing up the car. Life can get so busy that we sometimes forget that, besides our immediate families, there are also, like, 7 billion other people on this planet.

I went to the grocery store yesterday because my family needed to be taken care of. We already had a houseful of groceries, but what we did not have was liquid dish soap and laundry detergent. Since this was a quick trip for two items, the decision was made that I could be trusted with this task, so off I went. I hate going to the grocery store, especially when I only need a couple of things. I’m not sure if this is company policy or just the way things usually shake out, but the store around the corner from my house is usually packed wall-to-wall with shoppers all trying to negotiate two checkout stands with baskets full of …whatever they came to get. Sure enough, I walked in the door and the roiling sea of humanity in that place slightly nauseated me.

Because I am no good at shopping, it took me something like 10 minutes to find the aisle that contains the household items I came to buy. It took me another few minutes to wedge my way between the shopping carts randomly — yet impressively — arranged in the aisle in a crude herringbone formation as their operators jostled around each other to reach this thing or that. I made my selections and turned to go to the express checkout lane in the hope — futile, it turned out — that I could sail through there and out the door before the turn of midnight. That line was backed up from the front of the store to the dairy section in the back, so I guessed this was not going to be a good afternoon for me.

I almost did the typical guy thing, which is putting the items back and just telling my family they were out of luck on cleaning the kitchen for at least another day. This little voice (that sounded curiously like my wife’s) demanded that I continue this mission if I knew what was good for me. I chose a shorter line, albeit one in which the people had baskets overflowing with — I don’t know. Everything in the store? I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

As I stood there hating life, this lady in front of me with a full basket turned, saw me holding a bottle of liquid dish soap and a jug of laundry detergent, and frowned. I tensed up, thinking her facial expression was about to bring a world of pain between us. She moved a few inches to her right and motioned me to go in front of her. That move was so unexpected that I froze, not knowing what to do. I just stared at her, mouth slightly agape, and she motioned again for me to move in front of her. I looked behind me as though someone back there could tell me what I was supposed to do next. She sighed with the full weight of someone who is used to doing nice things for people and not being appreciated for it.

“Sir, you have two items and I have about 50. Please go in front of me.”

The sound of her voice restarted the feeling in my legs and they slowly began moving forward on their own. As I passed by her I mumbled a quick “thank you” that must have sounded like a smooth blend of confusion and shame.

Shame? As I trudged to the car after spending less than three minutes in a mile-long checkout line, I wondered why I felt that at all. Was I ashamed that I beat the system? No. I was ashamed that I did not take more opportunities to do for others what that lady did for me. She likely has no idea that her seemingly random act of kindness would appear in a weekly column the next day. I don’t know who she is or what has shaped her personal moral code, but I do know I have a lot to learn from her. I may never see her again, but I will never forget her.

My mission now is to make sure others benefit from her simple gesture in a grocery store checkout line. She did little more than expedite my afternoon and cure a simple bad mood. Someone else may need a kind word, smile, or simple assist that might make their lives a little easier — or perhaps save it.

The next time I have an opportunity to help someone in even the simplest way, I will remember this scene and pay her act forward. Will you join me in this effort?

 

Frank Vaughn, award-winning columnist and aspiring author, can be contacted at frank@fnvaughn.com. Follow/like Frank Vaughn on Facebook, @fnvaughn on Twitter and fnvaughn on Instagram.

Forgiveness: Releasing yourself from your own pain

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We might as well talk about forgiveness today. Why? Glad you asked! If there is one thing I have learned in 41 years, it is that we all have a duffel bag of life issues that we like to drag around. We’re born, and from that point forward we just start adding stuff to it. Pain, bitterness, distrust, jealousy, anxiety and fear all fester and bloat in that bag until it is so heavy that it is all that defines our struggle as we try to move through life.

Yes, people hurt us. This is because they are people and, for some reason, we are all prone to do that and have that done to us. Humanity does not come with an organic ability to not do that, unfortunately. We are not necessarily born with righteousness, compassion, empathy, sympathy, and altruism preprogrammed into our hearts and minds. These are learned characteristics and developing and using them are a choice we all have to make.

For many of us, pain and bitterness are well-earned. Being hurt, in many cases, is not a choice—it is just something that is done to us and we are left to figure out how to process it and what to do about it. What if I told you, though, that there is a way to overcome what the world does to us…what people do to us, and still be an inspiration to others?

It starts with a shift in worldview. I know firsthand how easy it is to become completely wrapped up in my pain, and when I do my worldview gets so narrow that essentially all I can see is myself. I don’t see that others are hurting worse. I don’t see the need in others around me. I tend to lose focus of the things I am responsible for and I start dropping balls that people depend on me to carry. As a father, husband, and professional, I cannot afford to do that. Oh, sure. I can feel sorry for myself for a little while, but what I cannot afford to do is marinate in that pain to the point that the only scent coming off of me is what has happened to me. I have found that I heal faster when I focus more on the needs of others. That doesn’t mean that I ignore my problems. It simply means that I refuse to be defined by them.

It is also important to have perspective on the person or people that have caused me pain. Did they do so intentionally? If so, is it because of some issue in their life that I can help them with? Or maybe they are just hurtful people and will never realize—or care—what they have done. Does harboring bitterness and resentment toward them make me feel better, or does it simply prolong the agony of what I am feeling? The reality is that even if you are angry or bitter toward someone who has legitimately hurt you, chances are they will never realize it, or if they do, they won’t care. I once heard a wise quote about this: “Clinging to bitterness toward someone is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.” Think about that.

It does take time to process pain that is caused by other people. I have found that confiding in a trustworthy friend is helpful. I have even sought counseling from people who are trained at that sort of thing in cases where I knew that simply chatting about my issues was not going to help in the long term. Healing does not come overnight, but it does come if one can commit to the process. Nothing helps healing, though, like good old fashioned forgiveness.

I looked up “forgiveness” in my favorite dictionary (the Internet) and this is the definition I found: “Forgiveness is the intentional and voluntary process by which a victim undergoes a change in feelings and attitude regarding an offense and lets go of negative emotions such as vengefulness, with an increased ability to wish the offender well.”

Intentional and voluntary. How do you forgive someone? According to that definition, you have to actually decide to. It doesn’t say that the offender asks for it; it says you have to be intentional about giving it. However, that comes after the hard part, which is the next thing in that definition: changing feelings and attitude regarding the offense. Once that is accomplished and the decision is made, you haven’t just set the offender free; you have set yourself free from the burden of what was done and you have released yourself from a lifetime of dragging that thing around in your duffel bag.

Truly forgiving someone is quite possibly the hardest thing we will ever do—especially if the offense was life-changing and destructive. I have had to do my fair share of pain processing over the course of my life, but until now I have not ever truly forgiven anyone. I am ready to do that now, because I realize this: I have hurt people too and if I ever hope to be forgiven, I must be willing to do the same.

Frank Vaughn, award-winning columnist and aspiring author, can be contacted at frank@fnvaughn.com. Follow/like Frank Vaughn on Facebook, @fnvaughn on Twitter and fnvaughn on Instagram.

Family: The hidden Battleground

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First published in The Batesville Daily Guard on Dec. 22, 2016

Be serious! Be alert! Your adversary the Devil is prowling around like a roaring lion, looking for anyone he can devour.—1 Peter 5:8 (HCSB)

The American family is an institution under fire, and the walls seem to be shaking and cracking under the strain of this assault. Some blame movies, TV, media, political agendas, movements, liberalism, conservatism and every other –ism for this issue, but most agree that Family does not mean what it used to in many ways.

I looked up “family” in a dictionary and, strangely, I did not find a satisfactory definition for that word. It spoke of the composition of a traditional family, groups of common interest, scientific uses for that word, and even mentioned crime syndicates. None of that hit the mark for me, though, so forget the dictionary. Let me be Frank for a moment and define that word myself.

Family: An impenetrable group of people with a shared sense of identity, loyalty, love, adoration, faithfulness and concern that will do anything to help, protect, teach, provide for and otherwise take care of each other no matter what.

Why did I have to pull that out of my own head instead of seeing it somewhere else? Because far too often, the concept of family is left to individual interpretation these days. From where I am sitting, though, God provided the definition of family in the description of another word in 1 Corinthians 13: “love is patient, love is kind. It does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

Battle lines are drawn in the war for the family. Our marching orders exist in the verse previously mentioned, but there is an enemy out there seeking to destroy families. Why? Because God created them. Families are the nuclear core of humanity and a real threat to chaos, anarchy and evil. When families are strong, loving and impenetrable, The Enemy is in trouble. He knows that he must attack the family in order to conquer God’s people.

He accomplishes this by using tools such as selfishness, greed, anger, insecurity, hurt, pain, adultery, substance abuse, gambling and many other personal struggles. This adversary knows what makes us humans tick. He knows individually what our weaknesses are and he knows how to manipulate them into something that detonates and takes out everyone around us.

How do we defend ourselves on this great battlefield? What hope do we have that we can fend off the attacks on our families and defeat this enemy in the war for the hearts and minds of our loved ones?

First, we must be careful what we are giving our mental and emotional energy to. We are only equipped with so much of that and anything we pay attention to outside of our families is attention we have to take away from them. I’m not talking about necessary things like work and paying bills and I’m not talking about world issues or current events. I’m speaking to distractions outside our families that pose a threat to them.

Second, we must be ever watchful of those distractions. The enemy, as mentioned before, is a prowling lion seeking whom he can devour. Sometimes those distractions can sneak up on us and take advantage of any number of weaknesses we may have, and before we know it our families are in shambles.

Third, we must bind closer to our families. Reread the verse above from 1 Corinthians. That’s not just a definition of love; it is a checklist that we must follow in our families. Families that aren’t strong on the inside are going to be much more susceptible to attack from the outside.

This is a call to responsibility — both personal and for those in our families who depend on us. There is a saying in Puerto Rico, “la familia es todo.” Literally translated it reads, “the family is everything.” If our families aren’t our everything, then we are not being true to the nuclear core of humanity that God created for His people to thrive —and survive.

 

Frank Vaughn, award-winning columnist and aspiring author, can be contacted at frank@fnvaughn.com. Follow/like Frank Vaughn on Facebook, @fnvaughn on twitter and fnvaughn on Instagram.