Father's Daughter

 7 years ago on Father's Day, my dad angrily asked me to never call him again. As someone who has pursued my dad all through childhood and into my early twenties, his request shattered me and I brokenly obliged. I stepped away from a relationship I never had any control over to begin with, and one that caused cascading amounts of harm and injury. The cord was cut, and like a wounded animal, I backed away to tend my wounds and didn't look back. 

7 years is both a short and long time and I am no longer the 23-year old person I was back then. I am 30 years old now, and have experienced my fair share of internal work and healing (both of which are still ongoing processes). When my dad reached out unexpectedly at the beginning of May, I didn't answer my phone and instead processed with my therapist. I gave myself the liberty to not respond to my dad right away and gave myself the time and space I needed to prepare for our eventual interaction. Some time passed, and he again reached out on my actual birthday on July 11th. Indeed, this text was distinct in that there was some semblance of him owning up to his mistakes and acknowledging that his past behavior had caused a ripple effect of damage and harm - I responded by saying thank you for the text and that I would reach out when I was ready. Again, no rush. 

We eventually set a time to talk and this phone call happened last night at 8 pm. There are aspects of the conversation that were to be expected (even after x amount of years): my dad's tendency of centering himself, of being overly defensive and victimizing himself, of creating new narratives of the past and living quite frankly in a totally different version of reality. None of it came as a surprise, but it did leave me feeling once again disoriented and discombobulated. He was unaware of what catalyzed the 7 years of no communication, and at one point reverted to his tried and true line of "why didn't you reach out these past 7 years?" I pointed out that it was at his volatile request to not contact him that had made me step away. He immediately feigned surprise, responded defensively and initially denied that he had said the above statement and then he pendulum swung the opposite direction, admitting that he must have done something wrong to instigate me not contacting him. He proceeded to then ask for my forgiveness. 

I could go on and on about all that landed wrong and made me cringe throughout the 30 minute conversation with my dad. Truth be told, it was not pleasant and made me slightly worried about his cognitive  disconnect with reality. And yet, I ended the phone conversation with a sliver of hope. He had verbalized some admittance of doing wrong and was aware to some extent of how his behavior hurt me and caused a rift in our relationship.  

To be honest, I'm not quite sure how much internal work my dad has done. The conversation last night only revealed anxiety on his part and a level of immaturity discordant with his actual age. And for the most part, the conversation was more for him than it was about me. I was able to process with Elizabeth today at work and we talked about how if my dad was to ever come to a point where he was completely honest with himself and objective historical reality, he would have to grieve the years he has lost as a father figure. For now, I see a man who is not emotionally able to reckon with the past. The person I see is a man who is still unable to fully face what he did or fully acknowledge the specific harm that he did to myself, my sister, and mother. And yet, I see a small snail's glide forward in his admittance of wrongdoing.

I'm not writing this post to demonize my father; in fact, I am who I am today not only because I am my mother's daughter but because I am also my father's daughter. To demonize him would be to demonize one part of myself. Rather, I honor the process that has brought me here. I am no longer the little girl who was at the mercy of her father's psychological and emotional abuse growing up. I am a woman who is healing and aware of the power of boundaries. I realize that this is a new chapter of my life, one where I have a say and can come to a point where I can accept my dad for who he is and engage accordingly given what I know of him and his level of emotional maturity. The ball is in my court; I am in control. And most importantly, the God who has reflected the untarnished image of father throughout my 30 years of life is ever by my side. 

Deep calls to deep

 This past Sunday, my church had an extended time of prayer and worship. Prior to yesterday's service, CC reached out to a few members of the congregation asking if we could lead the congregation by praying over various topics. When he sent the email out outlining the schedule and assigned prayer topics, I saw that he had me down to pray for Chicago, and for the youth and violence in the city. I prepared accordingly, and wrote down a prayer that I planned to read when it was my turn to go up. 

To be honest, I was and wasn't expecting to interact with God - I knew to expect him, but perhaps my expectations mirrored past experiences. The thing is, the Lord did indeed meet me. But the thing is, he met me in a way totally washed of expected encounters. I don't doubt that this is fairly common among believers. We plan accordingly, we anticipate accordingly, but somehow in a moment of grace and astonishment, God infuses our anticipated plans with his presence. And the moment shifts, and becomes sacred.  And once again, we are reminded that God is unfathomable, and that to walk with him is to experience new depths of his presence. 

Anyways, you're probably wondering what actually happened during the prayer and worship service. When it was my turn to lead the congregation in prayer, I walked up to the front, and shared a bit of my own story of moving and living in North Lawndale back in 2015 and the word God gave me so clearly then: that the street I was walking on was sacred, and that God loved this neighborhood. I then asked people to return to their groups of 3-4 and spend a few minutes praying over the city, over different neighborhoods and over the youth and violence that is so rampant in Chicago. After people spent some time praying in their respective groups, I started reading the prayer I had jotted down the day before. As I was praying, I experienced a shift in the air, and was cognizant of the Holy Spirit's presence. Indeed, the intercessory prayer shifted, along with the state of my heart. As I was praying, I started to weep over the violence in the city and over the youth and basically, the prayer that I had written down evolved into a spontaneous prayer that beseeched the Holy Spirit to wake us up and help us to not grow numb to the violence in the city. To wake us up so that we would be the hands and feet in a city that so needs the love of Christ. And so forth and so on. 

I ended that time of prayer startled and amazed at how the Lord showed up and was reminded that it is the Lord's delight to leave us marveling and in awe of who he is. As we come before him with palms wide open, he gives us the gift of his presence and allows us to see glimpses of his heart. It's in moments like these that remind me of my heart for intercession and the joy that comes with a heart that is aligned with his heart. My prayer is that these moments would continue to shift my heart to see people and the spaces that they inhabit as sacred and that I would be able to engage both in a way that reflects the Lord's deep, restorative, overwhelming love.

there is a deep well 

from which these tears flow 

the cracks and crevices that 

can't contain the outpourings 

of that which remains broken.

So I cry, with hopes that empty 

vessels will be filled with hopeful promises.

 

The Scars that Remain

 It's been almost two months since I've been seeing Elizabeth and whenever I sit down to meet with her, the hour flies by. There are few moments during the week when I intentionally step back and realize just how powerful and sacred the space is - my therapy sessions have been just that and I continue to perceive this invitation from the Lord to go to the messy and dark places. My time with Elizabeth has revolved around talking about the things that I am dealing with and mourning presently; of course, much of my present-day struggles are intertwined with past experiences that I dealt with as a little girl. That's the thing about childhood trauma - it can never be totally forgotten and it has a way of resurfacing in present experiences. 

Last night was one of those evenings where I went there - I talked about a memory that had to do with my sister and one that left me broken as a little girl. The tears came, and it was powerful to dust off the memory and process it together with Elizabeth. At the end of our session, she mentioned that she oftentimes does sessions where she invites other family members to be a part of the session as a part of the healing experience. I realize that my mom, sister, and I never processed the trauma that happened to my sister together as a family. We just tried to cope in our individual ways and move past the event. 

It's the season of Lent, and during my therapy session, Elizabeth drew my attention to the reality that when Christ rose from the grave, his scars didn't just magically disappear. The scars in his hands remained as evidence of the death that he had to endure on the cross. I sat back in my chair and slowly absorbed her words. The scars remained on a person who was able to conquer death itself.  As I revisit my scars this season, I hope and pray that they reflect the ultimate triumph of the cross, and that even the pain of reopened scars catalyzes deeper healing and awareness of God's goodness and glory. 

Wrestling Faithfully

 This year has been brutally painful  and I find myself going through this ritual of unrolling my yoga mat, lighting a candle, and crying before the Lord. The tears just come and come and come, and I allow my body to externally express what it is internally feeling. Basically, I've been ugly-crying a ton these days.

There is this biblical notion of wrestling faithfully and I've been nudging myself to wrestle with the Lord just as Jacob did with God. To be honest about my feelings and doubts and lack of joy this season, and to turn to the Lord in the midst of it all. I have so many questions, so many what-ifs and so many whys and it's all painful. Even as I wrestle with the Lord, he doesn't necessarily give me the answers to my questions; rather, he provides his presence. Which is maybe better, I think. 

Despite the fact that suffering can be isolating and my gut reaction is to turn inwards, I find solace knowing that the Lord knows me in my highest moments and in my lowest moments and that these are safe spaces where I can question what he is doing while at the same time trust that he is with me, even as I unravel. 

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I trust that he desires me to be the greatest version of who he has created me to be, and that this is one step, one season closer to being a whole and healed person. 

Invitation

This past Wednesday, we were gathered at Geri and Dave's house for our weekly small group gathering and as we settled in post-dinner in the living room, we started to look at the first chapter of Colossians. I'm not sure how we got on the topic of fatherhood, but Dave started sharing about his children and how he loves when his children come to him to ask him for help or ask him for something. As we all listened to Dave speak, it was pretty obvious that he took fatherhood pretty seriously, and that his heart was one of extravagant love towards his children. I tried to be discreet; I tried to avert my gaze and look down; alas, something in me shifted and I was caught off guard by the influx of emotions and tears that overcame me. Tears started to fall down my face and pretty soon, it was pretty difficult to hide that I was dissolving into a puddle of emotions in my corner of the living room. Geri looked over at me and gently said, "what's going on, Grace?" and I confessed to the group that I was caught off guard by my own physical response. In that moment, there was this realization that dawned on me that I had never seen my dad express that kind of fatherly love towards me. In my life, he remains inaccessible and he is the last person I feel that I can turn to in a moment of need. Instead of being able to depend on my dad, I found myself time and time again disappointed and hurt and what Dave was expressing to the group was something that struck me as foreign in my own relationship with my father. 

As I shared these things to the group, Geri compassionately replied that it wasn't fair that I had never experienced this kind of love from my own father and that it wasn't fair that the world is broken with such broken familial relationships. 

This instance is, among other instances, a reflection of what this season holds for me. There is an invitation from the Lord this season to experience deeper healing and deeper communion with him as things arise to the surface. Indeed, the Lord allows aspects of the past to resurface because he wants to touch those areas and restore those areas of deep woundedness. 

My big ask this season is to experience deep healing and restoration within myself, and to experience the Lord in and through it all. 

Things I Know To Be True

1. Surrendering to the Lord and proclaiming him as Lord over my life is what I want to do daily, or attempt to do. I proclaim that my finiteness and inability to forecast my own life is overshadowed by his sovereignty and ultimate goodness and love for me. 

2. I believe that all relationships are not an end in and of themselves. My relationships are conduits where I can express God's love to others and experience his love through others. At the end of the day, I choose to be satisfied in God's presence and in doing so, I am able to better see relationships for what they truly are: a fraction of something better. A gift and something to not take for granted. 

3. I can have grace towards myself this season. I can be gentle in moments when I experience physical symptoms of PTSD like inability to concentrate/raising heart rate/low-grade anxiety. I am not the person I was before, and I will come out of this season stronger. 

4. I am a healed person, and am in continued need for healing. There is an invitation this season to be ushered into greater and deeper levels of wholeness. That being said, the Lord provided me with an amazing (AMAZING) therapist this season and I know he is providing the tools and resources that will allow me to address things of the past in order to continue the process of healing in this present-time. 

5. There is a community around me that loves and supports me. God affirms my belovedness in and through a community of believers. His invitation to me this season of life is to come before him with great anticipation and faith in his goodness and faithfulness.

 I choose to courageously show up to Sunday service, to small group on Wednesdays, to therapy. I choose to show up early in the mornings when I sit down to spend time with the Lord. I choose to show up for myself when I go on runs and carve out time to workout . I choose to show up for friends who are also  trying to recover from a break-up and during sleepless nights when I basically cry myself to sleep. I guess what I want to say it this: I choose to show up because I know that the Lord is already there, ready to meet me and ready to shoulder my heartache. 

1/23/23 Thankful List

 -Celebrating Alison's 30th birthday in Estes Park, CO
-Beautiful, crisp winter weather 
-Running with Leah & doing hill workouts 
-Good food, Sam getting 12 tubs of Talenti gelato (!!!), brownies and cake 
-Cooking with the girls 
-Pillow talk with Nikki and getting to know her better 
-Getting to catch up with the 1818 Troy roomies 
-Full body massage and aromatherapy 
-Sunday service with amazing women who love the Lord & looking at Psalm 16 together 
-Being able to hang with Em at the airport 

 "Teach me to seek you, for I cannot seek you unless you teach me, or find you unless you show yourself to me. Let me seek you in my desire, and desire you in my seeking. Let me find you by loving you, let me love you when I find you."

-St. Anselm 

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Help me to seek you in the heartbreak, in the moments when I get caught up in my memories, in the moments when I have to surrender again and again.

1/12/23 Thankful List

 -21 day fast from social media and YouTube/TV 

-Getting together with Kara/Sharon/Janet this past Monday and encouraging each other to pray bold prayers 

-I went to Chicago Tabernacle for prayer night this past Tuesday and wow, have I missed that space. For almost four years (2016-2020), I went by myself every Tuesday and truly, much of my love and attitude towards prayer has been shaped by prayer night at Chi Tab. I've mentioned this before, but there is a 60-something Latino man who I enjoy seeing - primarily because his worship towards the Lord is inspiring for it's sincerity and fervency. When I walked into the sanctuary, he was right where he always sits, worshipping the Lord and praising him just as he always has. I started to tear up, and prayed for this man - that his heart would always be overflowing with love towards the Lord.

-Baking an extravagant cake for Kara's birthday dinner party tomorrow 

-I volunteered at the Bloc this evening and got to see the kiddos (Alejandro, Kathleen, Kimberly, Aniya) and Jamyle, Ericka, Sabrina. I arrived a bit late because I got caught up with a work call but I was able to box with Kimberly. Alejandro even came up to me and was like "Hey Ms. Hong! What's up?!" Literally made my heart beam - I'm definitely going to spend more time volunteering here this season. 

-And last but not least, the intake coordinator at Thamani Counseling Center got back to me and said that each therapy session would only be a $10 copay per session. She gave me three different options for potential therapists and my first session will be later this month. I'm looking forward to a space to process the past and present and to move forward in my journey towards healing and self-growth. 

It's not even the end of the first week of the fast and already God is answering my prayers in such intimate and wonderful ways.

You Seek Me Out

 This weekend was hard, with my emotions hijacking me during unassuming moments. I have found myself thinking that I'll get through the day without crying, only to eat my words later on. That's the thing about grieving, it hits you at unexpected moments. Sharon invited me to go out with her and her sister and go dancing this past Saturday - my plan was to go but I found myself inundated by tears an hour prior to when I was supposed to meet her. I wasn't going anywhere at that point, and instead found the Lord extending an invitation to me: "Grace, grieve. Grace, come sit here with me and pour out your heart before me." So I did just that. I turned on a candle, turned off all the lights, unrolled my yoga mat and sat there crying before the Lord. 

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I went to church this morning, and saw that Pastor David Swanson from our sister church, New Community Covenant Church in Bronzeville, was preaching. At the end of the service, various prayer ministers stood at the front of the sanctuary and there was an altar call. Usually, the congregation response is a slow one and it takes a while for a small number to slowly walk up the aisle towards the front. Today wasn't so much the case, and honestly, it was cool to see an immediate response. There were lines of people down the center of the aisle and even on the far-right side and far-left side. I stood where I was, desirous for prayer but not wanting to awkwardly stand in line waiting my turn to receive prayer. Indeed,I stood where I was, thinking to myself how much I yearned for someone to pray for me. A few moments later, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around and saw that Geri and Dave had walked to where I was standing. They held me as I started to weep, and they prayed for me. They held me in the frantic, messy, weepiness of it all. In the intimacy of it all. Afterwards, Janet held me as I continued to cry and I felt so incredibly ministered to by the body of Christ. 

The thing is, in times past I have been quick to respond to an altar call. I know that when I walk up to the front and stoop down low before the cross, my physical response is a symbolic one of complete and utter surrender. Today, the Lord sought me out and reminded me that he is with me, pursuing me and reminding me of his presence. 

Sacred Grief

 -for the heartbroken-

The depths of this kind of grief 
brings me to a place that is unreachable 
down into the dark night of the soul and 
into the depths of somewhere unfathomable 
I sink, inconsolable 

This is the kind of grief that fills empty spaces 
with jarring cadences of lament & loss - 
there is no other sound aside from this rising cry 
I weep, inconsolable 

And I find, in this constrictive space of death and gloom
You, oh gentle and lowly 
ready to sink with me; desirous to be with me 
in this sacred space that is grief unnamed