Forgiving Judas

I’ve been worried lately that people may be tired of hearing about how hard this year has been for me; tired of hearing me talk about forgiveness and the peace it has brought me. I apologize if I’ve come off sounding preachy. It hasn’t been my intent. I’m a passionate person and get excited about things that mean a lot to me. You should see me when I go birding! I scream and squeal and excitedly hyperventilate, then love telling those who will let me nerd out to them all about it. What I have learned about forgiveness has been life-changing for me, and the peace it has given me has been truly instrumental in my survival—and joy—this past year, so I’ve been, perhaps overly, excited about it and wanting to share. This poem I recently wrote means a great deal to me. I hope it might mean something to someone else too.

Forgiving Judas
by Tacy Gibbons

I’d been betrayed before. 
This one hurt the worst.

I wonder if Peter, James, John
and the other disciples
followed Christ’s commandment to forgive.
Did they forgive the man
who sold their teacher, their friend—
the Son of God Himself—
for thirty pieces of silver?

Have I forgiven him?

Maybe God won’t.
He doesn’t have to.
But we are commanded to forgive all.

I’d been betrayed before.
Lied to, manipulated.
I’d even been stabbed in the heart.

This time was the worst.

But I had already battled demons
and wrestled with monsters.
The flames of fire that licked at my skin
did not burn me.
They refined and rebuilt me.
More resilient than I was before.

I still love you.
I forgive you—
and Judas.
I will let the Master take care of the rest.

Wonder Woman

Here is a personal essay I wrote:

Wonder Woman has a great job. Top tier. Management. And she kicks ass at it!

She’s also an amazing mom—a single mom, at that. Even with work, she’s able to volunteer in her kid’s classes, go on field trips, help with homework, take them to lessons, go to performances and competitions. She’s incredibly supportive and always there for them. The rock of the family.

Wonder Woman takes care of the house, too. She cleans the bathroom, dusts the bookshelf, washes the dishes, cooks dinner, does the laundry. The house is spotless. At least, most of the time!

And the yard looks fabulous! Wonder Woman mows the huge lawn, pulls the many weeds and trims the various bushes, front, side and back.

Oh, and she even makes time for self-care. Pursues hobbies, engages in interests, relaxes here and there. She makes sure to serve and help others, too, because it makes her feel so good inside.

Wonder Woman does it all! She has it all! She is Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman must exist. It’s who everyone builds their expectations off of, right? Maybe there is a single mom out there who is able to do absolutely everything all on her own and still be strong and happy.

I am not Wonder Woman.

So the next time you ask me if I’ve gotten a job yet (because it’s usually the first thing everyone asks), the answer is still no. My worth is not determined on my ability to solely provide for my kids. And they need me more than a job needs me. I need them more than any of us need me to have a job.

My kids help around the house, and we do our best, but most days the kitchen is dirty, dishes are piled in the sink, my bed is littered with odds and ends and there is dust settled on the bookshelf.

The next time you go past my yard and see how out of control it is don’t think it’s because I don’t care. I do. I do as much as I can before my chronic pain becomes unbearable. Sometimes I can mow the whole, big lawn. Sometimes I can only pull a few weeds. And then I stand beneath the hot water in the shower and cry—at the pain and the feeling of failing.

Every once in a while, I take time for myself. It’s not easy to find, but I have to. Not because I’m lazy, but because I know what it’s like to be trapped in the chains of depression and despair. I have to do what I can to keep my mental health strong so I can keep being there for my kids. They deserve a mom who is happy and healthy. I deserve to be happy and healthy.

Wonder Woman may be out there. Maybe there are a lot of her. I am not Wonder Woman. I am just me.

The Unexpected

I don’t remember when I first came across Jillian Benfield’s book The Gift of the Unexpected. I am sure it sat in my Amazon Wish List for at least a year, maybe two, before I finally purchased it. It appealed to me, originally, because it’s, in part, a story about a woman with a child who has a disability. I have a child who is autistic, which came with all kinds of challenges in life that were unexpected. I finally bought it because of another life-altering, unexpected circumstance.

I think most of us go through the unexpected multiple times—even the unexpected in extreme measure. At the end of each chapter, Benfield poses questions. I’ve had a hard time answering some of them because I’ve already learned a lot of the lessons she’s trying to convey from all of the other unexpected or hard things I’ve been through in life. I feel like the furnace of affliction has refined me into someone who is more resilient. Not perfect, not without flaws, emotions, weakness or difficulties, but resilience and a belief in who I am. I am a child of God, and He is the one who has given me peace and strength.

Yet, I realized that there is more to this most recent unexpected event that a single person, a single betrayal, a single event. What has been the most unexpected is how others have reacted to it. The person who said they would text or call to check up on me every day, who never did because they thought I was making the wrong choice. The person who said they would remain a friend no matter what—because that’s what friends do, then abandoned us when they learned what they thought was the truth (without actually getting the real story). The people who say they love and care, throw a few bucks at us, then say, “Well, it’s not my fault.” The people who testify of Christ-like love, forgiveness and compassion, then have a million excuses as to why they don’t have to live any of those beliefs in this particular circumstance. Those are the unexpected events that I am struggling with. Those are the unexpected events that are taking a toll and challenging me and my beliefs in humanity. And those are the unexpected events that are gifting me even more resilience and resolve to truly live my beliefs, to become a better person and transform into who God knows I can be.

In her book, Benfield writes, “It took losing what once was to birth the beauty that now is.” I have lost friends and family. But were they really friends and family in the first place? If at the first sign of the unexpected they, not only bailed, but left destruction in their wake? I often go back to Shinedown’s song Daylight. “It’s amazing what the hard times can reveal. Like who shows up, who walks away and who’s for real.” I know who’s real. And I know who isn’t. And I can see the beauty of God and life more clearly now because of it. The unexpected is teaching me to rely more on the Savior and the people I know are going to still be here even when life is hard and the unexpected storm is raging. It reminds me of this picture a friend of mine gave me of the Savior reaching out to someone who is drowning. Sometimes we do drown. And Christ is always there extending a hand to help pull us out.

We can be that hand, too. Despite the pain of learning how many people aren’t really what they pretend to be, I’ve also seen God’s hand lifting and strengthening me and my little family through others who are true examples of what I want to emulate. One of the questions Benfield asks is, “Who do I want to become?” I want to become someone who makes a difference in the world—even if the world is nothing more than my own children and husband. Who do you want to become? And what gifts have you found through the unexpected?

Having Joy

Sometimes I feel like laughing hysterically when I say this past year has been the hardest of my life because it doesn’t even begin to describe just how hard the past eight months have actually been. Hard. Difficult. Struggle. Trial. Hell. None of those words can even remotely get close to describing what it’s been like or the fact that it keeps getting harder. Every time I feel like I can come up for air, another wave hits and pulls me back under where I’m suffocating and trying not to drown.

At the same time, I’ve had more joy in the past eight months than I’ve ever had in my entire life. Because yes— hard, difficult, struggling, hellish beyond description and joy can—and do—coexist.

There are times when there really is a reprieve. Where I do surface and get some air. And even beneath the surface I’ve found strength and peace in many different ways, including God and Christ, my children, my husband, others around me, music and more. Some days I really do feel like I’m doing okay. Other days I feel like I’m drowning. The past couple of days have been like that. Through encouragement and help I started feeling a little better.

Then last night my daughter called me from her dad’s house to tell me she had left her band music at my house. I told her I would bring it over to her, so she wouldn’t have to stop by in the morning on her way to school. I got in the car, rolled the windows down and cranked some Shinedown. Like I cranked it! And I belted out the lyrics with them as I drove. It felt so good! I felt like myself. This was meaningful because I’ve been feeling lost lately, not sure who I am anymore, questioning my worth and value. Then, when I got home, I went in the back yard and jumped on the tramp while continuing to sing. (Sorry neighbors!) I chased my dogs around the back yard and felt exhilarated!

Is the hard gone? No. Is it getting easier? No. Have all my problems and worries vanished? No. Is the depression and anxiety that often comes with the hellish struggle leaving? No. Did I experience pure joy last night rocking out and acting like a kid? Yes. Yes, I did.

I still have worries. Things are looking pretty dire right now, and I know there are many challenges ahead. Those are two lines I’m sure all of us could say right now, could have said a few days ago or will be able to say in a few weeks from now. Life is hard. It’s hard for everyone. And there is also joy. Sometimes we just have to make it happen.