Category Archives: radical attachment disorder

Twisted Lines

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How did they get tangled?
The long lines reaching out and up to the scaffold
Not cloudless but wind-fierce
Like blue could be fire.

I ask my son to count
Them, he gets the number wrong–says six for seven
When number eight shuttles around in a lost circle
Infinite forgotten

I watch this man
Patiently untangle them
Cords missing air balloons
Lines, ropes, braids

Carrying clumsy morons like me

I ask him about the scars along his knuckles
Painful looking
He tells me his story
…one more way to be brave

I am not

I can tell you exactly when I knew
I was a coward
The day I let go of the rope

Forever as you swore at me loudly in this crowded terminal
The people raise their eyebrows perhaps

I only remember the pain, you
A promise
Never to rise again
with the white noise and anger

Airplanes pressing physics
across this merciless deep
Sky

Nurture parenting

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The agency told us they had been severely neglected, possibly abused, definitely exposed to awful stuff.

They were sent to us after a disrupted placement–their foster mother had had enough.

The sole piece of advice they gave us: be consistent, don’t give in to bad behavior.

Not bad advice, but not nearly enough. I am not sure that RAD and fetal alcohol issues are fixable….but if they can be mitigated then caregivers need to nurture.

I am an elementary school teacher– a nurturing type, so I know I tried. The children often did not respond to cuddling, hugs, or carrying the way other children do.

I spent hours carrying them on hikes and I have a rich store of memories of being hit, kicked, punched, and verbally assaulted for no other provocation than carrying them. Most young children have the sense to know that a good, patient Sherpa mama is worth something.

Not these two. A simple hug was never simple.

I think the explanation is that neglected children have a fight or flight instinct that kicks in when it shouldn’t.

Babies need a lot of love, a lot of cuddle time. Without that their brains get messed up–the coldness and hostility of a nurture-deprived babyhood translates to a lot of sturm and drang.

We gotta do better for these wounded souls. But my experience was brutal…

Wish I could have hugged them more.

Herod and John

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Mark 6:21-29 (NIV)
Finally the opportune time came. On his birthday Herod gave a banquet for his high officials and military commanders and the leading men of Galilee. [22] When the daughter of Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his dinner guests. The king said to the girl, “Ask me for anything you want, and I’ll give it to you.” [23] And he promised her with an oath, “Whatever you ask I will give you, up to half my kingdom.” [24] She went out and said to her mother, “What shall I ask for?” “The head of John the Baptist,” she answered. [25] At once the girl hurried in to the king with the request: “I want you to give me right now the head of John the Baptist on a platter.” [26] The king was greatly distressed, but because of his oaths and his dinner guests, he did not want to refuse her. [27] So he immediately sent an executioner with orders to bring John’s head. The man went, beheaded John in the prison, [28] and brought back his head on a platter. He presented it to the girl, and she gave it to her mother. [29] On hearing of this, John’s disciples came and took his body and laid it in a tomb.

Not only do I hate this story, it creeps me out that C loved this story.

After I found out that C abused my kids, I raked through the Bible, questioning God– why didn’t He address pedophiles directly? Then I realized: this is the story.

Herod had violated big ticket Mosaic rules when he poached Herodias from his brother.

Herodias is not a good mother. Salome performs an illicit and explicit dance for men. She is young and vulnerable and her mother is perpetuating the idea that her source of power is sexual. The end of this power is state-sponsored murder.

The tragedy is too much to bear. For Herodias to plot to murder the one man who wanted to raise and restore her value is so hard to face.

It is also hard knowing that Jesus, king of justice was in town, so close. Why didn’t he zap people? Free John?

But that is the point of the story: faith sees the rest of the story–thousands of us have mourned John the Baptist and faced this story as a reminder of real faith.

John’s life is secured to heaven. There is no chance for Herod. He is a man who made his own place secure in hell. He lived a wretched life and died a wretched death.

What We Stand to Lose

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She has her back to me. She is telling the children a sort of fable–if fables started if instead of once upon a time.;. And if the princess were a royal pain in the….well, you get the idea.

So Princess is unravelling a story. What if we had no mom or dad, no one to tell us what to do… Her voice conveys the magic of this scenario. Thanks to public assistance she has now had a few years to live the dream, and I will not venture to comment on how that has worked out for her.

It is her life.

And I was once just a random woman willing to wipe her…oh, you, get the idea again.

You could look at the things she has lost playing out her orphaned-with-cash fantasy. But that does not matter as much to me as this—

This world is God’s house and we may presume he has just run to the store for grapes. But I would not be so foolish as to underestimate Him. He owns this house and will return to clean it.

You can live your whole life without a mother and somehow muddle through. But to stake your forever on the dream of autonomy is risky precisely because you may just get exactly what you wanted…

Forever.

Wow! You’ve Changed!

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Mark 5:18-20 (NIV)
As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had been demon-possessed begged to go with him. [19] Jesus did not let him, but said, “Go home to your family and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” [20] So the man went away and began to tell in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him. And all the people were amazed.

I would have wanted to follow Jesus like a puppy dog. But Jesus tells the man to go home.

Think of 5 of the worst humans you know–personally or historically. Now imagine them come home smelling good and acting like Mother Teresa.

That is what God can do.

And it is indeed amazing.

Those Pigs.

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When I was a kid I went through a rough patch–lots of strep throat. I remember rounds of antibiotics and shots. The shots worked the best. One big dose of medicine.

That is how I see Jesus. His healing is so profound and complete and wholesome. Miraculous and life-giving.

So when he meets up with a guy who has an army of demons, the authority of his healing is strict and simple–

Mark 5:9-17 (NIV)
Then Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” “My name is Legion,” he replied, “for we are many.” [10] And he begged Jesus again and again not to send them out of the area. [11] A large herd of pigs was feeding on the nearby hillside. [12] The demons begged Jesus, “Send us among the pigs; allow us to go into them.” [13] He gave them permission, and the evil spirits came out and went into the pigs. The herd, about two thousand in number, rushed down the steep bank into the lake and were drowned. [14] Those tending the pigs ran off and reported this in the town and countryside, and the people went out to see what had happened. [15] When they came to Jesus, they saw the man who had been possessed by the legion of demons, sitting there, dressed and in his right mind; and they were afraid. [16] Those who had seen it told the people what had happened to the demon-possessed man—and told about the pigs as well. [17] Then the people began to plead with Jesus to leave their region.

The pigs were smart, out for themselves, property, minding their own business, pork bystanders.

Why did the demons want to go into the pigs?

They did not want to get sent back to their master or their chosen home. Even demons don’t like hell.

And pigs aren’t crazy about demons.

Humans invite darkness into their hearts all the time, but these pigs did not. Their panicked suicide is a barometer of how awful the habitation of darkness is.

And the humans? Upset they lost their pigs. They fail to see Jesus is worth all the pigs in the world. They banish the Lord of Life for a few shekels.

Don’t make their mistake. Stay close to Jesus.

He sets the captive free.

The closest you get to f…

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Mark 5:9 (NIV)
Then Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” “My name is Legion,” he replied, “for we are many.”

Huh. Like Jesus didn’t already know his name.

Jesus knew his name.
Jesus still knows his name.
Jesus knew all of his names.
Jesus knew their names.
Jesus knew them before they were shadowy inhabitants of a man in a graveyard.
Jesus knew when they were light.
Jesus knows this story.
He knows it all.
He is the eternal God incarnate.

So why ask the guy’s name?

I read today that Nokia was going to begin selling 3D kits to customers to “print” phone cases.

I saw a picture today of a small USB drive with a TB memory.

This is a story about before and after.

This is when and how the world changes.

God, the Poet asks the question because he knows the answer but we don’t. The guy doesn’t. The Legion has an idea. They know they are dealing with Eternity, Fire, and Change.

They are about to be kicked out.

But the question to ponder before we look further is–how did they get in?

Who let them in to the man’s messed up heart?

He did. Once called different names–pride, lust, ambition, lies. They walked in through the door….

And gradually took over.

Father’s Day in the graveyard

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This is one of my favorite stories.

I know too many people like this guy. In fact I know a couple who make him look like a boy scout.

Mark 5:1-5 (NIV)
They went across the lake to the region of the Gerasenes. [2] When Jesus got out of the boat, a man with an evil spirit came from the tombs to meet him. [3] This man lived in the tombs, and no one could bind him any more, not even with a chain. [4] For he had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart and broke the irons on his feet. No one was strong enough to subdue him. [5] Night and day among the tombs and in the hills he would cry out and cut himself with stones.

Read his symptoms carefully–loud, violent, scary, self-harming. Just like the rest of us, this man has a story, and not a fun one. Abused and neglected? Maybe? Into violent games? Maybe? Dangerous to others? Definitely.

No hope. No national mental health initiatives to save him.

There are 2000 reasons why he has chains and lives in the graveyard.

Now imagine you find out he has a little baby with him out there…

Would you worry? Would you call for help? Send him cloth diapers? Try to intervene?

What would you do for the child?

The Strong Man’s House

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Some memories are picture clear. It is a day in late October and we are traveling in the van with my in laws to the Aransas wildlife refuge. I am attempting to school a known pedophile on the need for repentance.

We have reported the abuse. We lock doors at night to make the children feel safer. We are waiting and terribly broken.

The pedophile is merely annoyed. Sullen. We are discussing the human heart as though it were a house. A house Jesus could walk through, clean, excavate.

I remember this whenever I read

Mark 3:25-30 (NIV)
If a house is divided against itself, that house cannot stand. [26] And if Satan opposes himself and is divided, he cannot stand; his end has come. [27] In fact, no one can enter a strong man’s house and carry off his possessions unless he first ties up the strong man. Then he can rob his house. [28] I tell you the truth, all the sins and blasphemies of men will be forgiven them. [29] But whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven; he is guilty of an eternal sin.” [30] He said this because they were saying, “He has an evil spirit.”

… because Charles is the one who taught me…about the strong man’s house.

This parable can and will go either way. Either the strong man is hell plundered by Jesus or He is the strong man robbed on the cross.

Which is it?

You can guess my opinion. I put my money on Jesus.

But for years I lived in that divided house, torn by my adopted children’s violence and anger.

Don’t wanna go back. Don’t wanna live that way no more.

Divided house; broken heart.

Mark, the Gospel

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Mark 2:21-22 (NIV)
“No one sews a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment. If he does, the new piece will pull away from the old, making the tear worse. [22] And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. If he does, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wineskins will be ruined. No, he pours new wine into new wineskins.”

Pretend you were in a secret club.
The rules weren’t secret.
The membership was deceptively open.
But it was still a secret club.
Because it was a club for losers, villains, fools and children….
And only the last group would make it, their faces smudged with joy and perhaps some finger paint.
They would come bursting through the gates of heaven
Laughing
Unconcerned about whether they had conquered Europe or won at scrabble

Never, never forget. This parable is a test. Always a test of love.