Ep 122: She Wanted The Whole Story

Link to Spotify

Transcript

[00:00] Morgan: Okay, you ready?
Mom: Yeah.
Morgan: Now it’s time for Mom’s story. I’ve never heard my mom’s whole life story.

[00:19] Morgan: I would love to hear, Mom, about the most defining moments in your life that brought you to where you are today. Maybe start with a summary of who you are today and what motivates you, then go back to the beginning and narrate the points that brought you here.

[00:43] Mom: I’m 62. A mom of four, and grammy to six. A stepmom to two, plus daughter-in-laws and son-in-laws. I’ve been married to Craig for six years after being single for 22 years, and before that, married for 13. Right now I’m a podcast host, and I have a business where I facilitate retreats and workshops for Christian women — one-on-one coaching and group coaching. My husband and I travel a ton — all our kids live in different states, so we travel to see them and grandkids, and take extended trips overseas and stateside. While we can, we want to embark on life’s great adventure and create memories together, because we haven’t had that long together.

The essence of who I am is I love to create and facilitate space — for women to feel safe, where it’s okay not to do and be everything for everyone. They can regulate their emotions and begin to connect with who God’s created them to be.

[02:56] Mom: I was born in a small town in Indiana. I had an older sister — eight days from being a year apart. My biological father was an alcoholic and abusive to my mom. When I was two or three, my grandparents came and rescued us out of a very toxic, probably dangerous environment. My only early recollections are being afraid of him.

A marking moment was a joint birthday party with my sister when I was five — that’s when my Aunt Shirley and Uncle Jay came and helped Mom. My Aunt Shirley is my role model in life; she’s 86 now.

My mom was a single mom. We moved into federally funded housing, reduced rent. My eighth grade year, having PE every day, I lost weight — before that I wore size 14 husky, boys’ clothes. All through high school and college I stayed slim.

High school was good. I was a little on the wild side — a couple friends and I were in three or four car accidents. We drank on weekends, sometimes I got served. One time we got into a friend’s parents’ liquor cabinet, poured gin into another bottle, and put water back so they wouldn’t know. I got deathly sick, and blamed it on the dog. My mom did not like conflict — if we just didn’t talk about it, it would go away.

[07:50] Mom: I went to college to get out of my small town and away from home. Joined a sorority, stayed in leadership. I met your dad, and my junior year I became pregnant. I never finished my degree.

Morgan: Did you always want kids? What was the status of your relationship when you got pregnant?

Mom: Growing up, I never thought I’d get married, but I always thought I’d have at least one daughter. I wasn’t ready to get pregnant — I was 21. We’d been dating a while, hadn’t talked about marriage. The first time I met your dad was in a bar — we were both underage. A friend of mine, a fraternity brother of his, told me: “He’s just one of the nicest people I know.” Different people said that about him throughout our marriage.

We got married on the last day of school, so our college friends could be there. Your sister was born in September, and I was pregnant with you nine months later. It was tough — we were kids, neither of us had any relationship skills. We both came from broken, dysfunctional homes.

Morgan: Was that a commonality you two shared?

Mom: I’m sure it is. Statistically, if you haven’t done the work of healing from your origin, you gravitate toward the very people you say you’ll never be with.

[14:11] Mom: After he graduated we moved in with his mom for a short season. I was pretty miserable — probably depressed. Then he got a job in Indianapolis; I worked days, he worked nights, so we wouldn’t need childcare. Then we moved to Michigan for his sales job — a beautiful season. We got involved in a church and Sunday school class with people twenty years older than us, who basically parented us on how to parent. Besides my Aunt Shirley, that’s where I got my vision for parenting.

I worked for Manpower Temporary Services — interviewing people, job placements. One day I picked you girls up from the babysitter, and she said, “Your girls are just sad when they’re here. You really need to think about being home with your kids.” And I just broke. Because that’s what I wanted. I went home, talked to your dad, gave two weeks’ notice, and got to be Mom. It was amazing.

[16:57] Mom: We moved a little north for your dad’s job change, but were only there four or five months before we moved to Kentucky. I got pregnant with your older brother — a challenging time, your dad traveled a lot. We started counseling, got involved in a wonderful church community.

While we were in Kentucky, a group of people we hung out with experienced what we call a revival — an awakening, “God really speaks to us.” I began exploring what a relationship with Jesus actually looks like, beyond just doing the things.

After your dad left, that community was my stabilizing force. We were in that little community about four years after the divorce, and it became an uncomfortable place to be — I wanted more of God and the Holy Spirit than I was experiencing there. There was this — what we now know as a very cultish community in Kansas City.

Morgan: That’s what I call it. I don’t know if you would.

Mom: I hesitate saying that, because it was such an integral part of my life, and so much good came out of it. Yes, there’s a lot that could’ve been handled better, that I could’ve questioned more. I’m not opposed to other people calling it that — but I still go, “Oh, I was part of a cult?” Do I want to admit that yet?

Morgan: That’s how it’s helped me come to terms with that time. But you describe it how you want — what feels true for you.

[24:43] Mom: Your dad and I had been to a conference or two with that group. Kansas City was not on my radar — I wanted to move to Cincinnati to be with that group of people. We put the house up for sale, it sold, and then you kids made it clear you didn’t want to move to Cincinnati. Your sister said, “You can go where you want, but I’m not going.”

This was four years after the divorce. I felt very fortunate we got to stay in the house — your dad relinquished it so you kids didn’t have to move again. That was very generous of him.

When your dad left, I’d actually enrolled to finish my degree. I remember opening the acceptance letter and just sobbing at the weight of it. I called an older couple we were friends with at 11 o’clock at night, drove to their house, sat at the end of their bed sobbing: “I can’t go back to school and do the homework and still parent.” The husband said, “Misty. Has God taken care of you and the kids this far? What makes you think it’s going to be any different?” I went home and canceled it. I just got jobs that let my brain not have to think, so my mental energy could go toward parenting.

You and your sister did a three-week internship — you went to India, then Calcutta, by yourself, at 18. The boys and I went on a three-week camping trip while you were gone — I’d never pitched a tent or built a campfire by myself. I’d read Dobson’s Bringing Up Boys and hated it, then someone gave me Wild at Heart — boys need to experience manly things and adventure.

When we drove into Kansas City, everything was boxed up, ready for wherever was next. I had a sense this was where we’d be, and I told the Lord no. It was so hot you could see steam off the pavement. Then I looked at my steering wheel, saw a big yellow smiley face, and it was like, “You will live here.” I told the Lord, “I will not tell the kids. You have to tell them.”

I asked each of you to pray about where we’d live. You said, “If it’s peaceful, that seems right.” Megan said, “I don’t care what you all do, but I’ll be 18 in September, and I’m moving to Kansas City when I’m 18.” Then I talked to your dad — legally he could’ve said no, and I didn’t know that then. I told him, “If you tell me God has put on your heart that this isn’t right, I won’t move.” He said, “I don’t want you to move.” I asked, “But can you tell me that’s God?” He said, “No, I can’t tell you that’s God. That’s just what I want.” So we moved.

[29:36] Mom: We moved in September. It was rough putting you straight into inner-city Kansas City schools as a homeschooler. I did the same kind of jobs — one mentor asked what my family needed, I said “clothes,” so I got a job at Gap Kids for the discount.

I had no intention of going on staff at the ministry there. I moved out for the culture, to go to the prayer room — not to be on staff, which I saw as a black hole that sucked you in. We did the three-month intro class, and eventually I ended up on staff for six years, helping lead for the kids.

I met a lot of other single moms through that role. We hosted a Christmas event for a dozen single moms — I felt like it was an invitation from God to seat these women at the table, feed them well. One mom told me she’d never had her hair cut in a salon before. Another said she’d never had steak in her life. I was watching them be overwhelmed by God’s generosity — generosity I’d already been shown myself.

People started telling me, “Misty, you need to start a small group for single moms.” I resisted for about a year. Finally I said yes for a summer, and at the last meeting, one of the women started crying: “I don’t trust people with my boys, and I don’t trust people with myself. This is the only place I feel safe.” I felt like the Lord said, “That’s all I want you to do — create this safe place.”

I said yes, and for the next 12 years I founded and developed a nonprofit for single moms in Kansas City. I remembered you telling me about a job where the founder wouldn’t leave, and the toxicity that created — so I started praying, “Lord, when it’s time for me to leave, I want to leave, because this is Your work, not mine.” I was able to walk away in 2020 and hand it to an executive director. That was a hard year — a marriage, and leaving something I’d built.

[31:46] Morgan: Isn’t it interesting — when I teach yoga, I think about this. We put so much intention into the inhale, but the exhale, the letting go, is harder — and just as important, because it’s in the exhale that we make space for the next breath. It can be easy to be passive about the ending of a season. But something I admire about you is that you’re alert and ready when it’s time for a season to end — even before you know what’s next, you’re attuned to it, and you put intention into the letting go. I think that’s a profound thing you’ve modeled over and over.

Mom: You summarize that so beautifully. Who knew I was so profound?

Morgan: Don’t worry, I’ve got metaphors for days.

Mom: Well — thank you for sharing your life story with me, Mom.
Morgan: Thanks for listening.

[34:55] Mom: Morgan said something at the end that I keep thinking about. Breathing out before you breathe in. Attending to the ending of a season instead of just letting it happen to you. I didn’t set out to model that — I was just trying to survive some of those seasons. But hearing her name it back to me, what I got right, being a mom, building a home out of almost nothing more than once — that’s a gift I didn’t expect from this conversation.

If this is the kind of thing you want more of — two women, one table, no script — the best way to make sure you don’t miss the next one is to hit subscribe or follow wherever you’re listening. And if you’ve got 30 seconds, a review means more than you think.

Someone wrote in recently: “I binged the first four episodes of you and Morgan on a walk. I was bawling. It brought up so much in me that I hadn’t thought about in forever. Thank you, ladies, for being bold and inviting others into these vulnerable moments.” That’s exactly why we keep doing this.

Next week, Morgan and I are talking about loneliness — something she’s wrestled with in singleness, and I’ve wrestled with in marriage and friendship. A recent Pew Research study found 4 in 10 adults feel lonely at least sometimes, and about 1 in 6 say it’s most or all of the time. And women are more likely than men to turn to their mother or a friend for support — 54% vs. 42%. Which makes me wonder what happens when that person isn’t there, or isn’t who you need her to be.

We’re not bringing the answers. We’re just two women talking about something most people carry quietly. Join us next week.

I’m Mom, and I love you, Morgan.
Morgan: I’m Morgan. I love you, Mom.

This is just us, talking. If you want to go deeper into any of it, here’s where to find me. 🤍

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