Beyond the Chaos

Having recently read Donald Miller's A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, life story has been on the forefront of my mind. Briefly, Miller compares a personal life story to the story of a character in a novel. To be a good story a character faces obstacles and suffering and yet overcomes them. A good personal life story is the same. However, my thoughts were in context of a family legacy. With Mother's Day just a couple of weeks ago, as with any family holiday or birthday, thoughts of my family of origin linger in my subconscious. Tying those two thoughts together I began reflecting on my family's legacy.

There is an interesting vine that grows here in the rural South. Thriving practically everywhere, kudzu envelopes everything it takes hold. Left unchecked it chokes out life and overtakes anything that doesn't move. Outlines of green covered poles, trees, shrubs, and even structures line the landscape. It's tentacles are far reaching. Such is the heart, soul, and life where bitterness is allowed to take hold. Left to itself, bitterness chokes out life, leaving only the impression of the person who could have been. The tentacles of bitterness reach beyond, effecting and overtaking others.

Bitterness. My family's legacy. Passed down for at least the past three generations and exemplifying itself as addiction, physical, emotional, and/or verbal abuse, manipulation, and control. I've observed it, up close and from afar, and I've been in its path. Like a contortionist I've twisted myself into odd poses trying to deal with it without being overcome by it. Eventually I couldn't twist anymore.

Though I've removed myself and my immediate family from the chaos, I'm still at risk to continue the legacy. The irrational guilt of not being in contact with my family of origin creeps in unexpectedly. Mother's Day that guilt became anger. Anger that it even has to be an issue in my life. Anger that I feel tainted by my family. Anger that they choose to live like this. Anger that they are angry at me for breaking away. It is my family story and it is my story and I wish it weren't. Those thoughts repeat in my mind like a broken record painting myself as a victim.

One step away from bitterness.

Eventually my feelings were rightly led to grieving. That's when the thought of the kudzu came to mind. Somewhere beneath the overgrowth and the drive to consume everything around them is a person.

My heart softens.

And though this is my family's legacy, it is only a part of my life story. By God's continued grace and mercy, it's not the end of my story. There is more, much more. Just yesterday I was reflecting on how blessed I am, my husband and I are, and our family is. We have the love of Christ and love for one another. We have more than we need and even many things we want. I can't remember being so content and feeling so overwhelmingly blessed.

My life is a good story when I look beyond the chaos.