Gratitude 40--Belonging

This year the holidays feel daunting. Both of my parents are gone now. My brother wants to be by himself, and Rob and I are still separated. Frankly, it is easy to feel like I have no where to belong, except the people I know make it so clear that I do...and for them and what they do...I am grateful...

With deep gratitude for...

951. Snoopy and the Red Baron

952. Help with the garage

953. Texts really early in the morning to see if I am okay

954. Invitations to movies

955. Sitting in the floor and talking while bathroom remodeling goes on around me

956. A gathering of friends...in person...and via speaker phone.

957. A place to cry...and laugh...and sigh deeply because...

958.  A place to land

959. Comfy couches with warm blankets and Chinese food

960. Adirondike chairs in the yard while oil is changed in the driveway, laughing about (and with) the mechanics, and being warm inside...even when it is cold outside...

...I thank God at every remembrance of you...Philippians 1:3

Gratitude 39--Giving Thanks, November 2010

It has been a long time since I typed in a list of thanks...although my heart has been grateful for many things these last several months. I'll share more as time goes on, but for now...for these people and blessings...I am deeply grateful...

931. For my amazing children

932. For my CERT class, what I've learning...but more with whom I learning it.

933. Hard seasons that let the unncessary stuff die to make room for the good stuff to live.

934. Dena K. Walts, who thinks I am an answer and have something to give.

935. Raymon K. "Buck" Kelley, the perfect substitute dad in a season when "home" wasn't

936. Brian Hearn, who tells me I am worth the effort

937. Lisa Buffaloe, Christine Thomas, and Lori Freeland, who reply ASAP to joyfully and excitedly be references for my resume

938. Kevin Zuniga, with a heart of God

939. Pop Shires, who finds the heating element for my dryer in less than 48 hours, picks it up, and brings it to my house

940. Chris, who teaches me how to change out the heating element

941. Al, who offers to helpd cover costs for my mission trip next summer

942.  Rob for helping with the resume and garage.

943.  Leslie, who keeps me in her heart

944. Eryn Gruwell, who did her job with excellence and impacted the lives of her students...and us

945. CERT board, for seeing my potential

946. Val Roach, for always checking

947. Melanie Curl, for caring and noticing

948. Christmas ornaments for soldiers

949. CPT Ramona, former Army, for keeping us in the loop with soldiers to support

950. Contented smiles




5.

Emotional Weather Days

I just want to cry.

It's that simple.

I have spent the day with tears sitting in the corners of my eyes waiting to fall, probably needing to fall. One of those be-good-to-yourself days when I can't.

They are children, mature and wonderful, full of grace, but children. They don't understand days when it is easier for me to lie in bed than stand against the sadness. They don't understand why my usual laughter is edged with annoyance or why small things have suddenly become so large.

I understand their confusion, and I seek a way to explain. Sometime I don't understand either. All I know is some days are hard, and on those days, tears come easy and patience doesn't.

Tired from the strain of trying to force calm that cannot be created, I lie on my bed and pull close those I've been pushing away. We try to find light in the emotional cloudiness of the day.

Cloudy. That is it. If only emotions came with a forecast, a type of heads up of what to expect, then we would know whether to wear galloshes in the form of careful steps or umbrellas in the form of greater grace.  Perhaps we would simply know better how to avoid the storm altogether, and if we couldn't stop it, maybe we could ease the effects.

"Do you ever get sad with all that has been happening?" I venture. I know the answer, but they need to understand.

Silent nods...theirs and mine...an understanding.

"Me, too." I pause, let the reality sink in, let them think sad, let them feel it. "Do you ever have a sad day when you can't quite get over the sadness, you don't just sit and cry, but you're sad?"

Again...silent nods. I let them wander into those days, into those hearts.

"Me, too." We sit in those days, and I venture further. "When you have those days, do you ever feel like you can't quite get happy? Like you can't stop being unhappy? Like everything is a bit bad even when it isn't?"

Eyes drop. They don't need to nod. I know. They know. They've had those days. I've witnessed them. Now, I let them witness mine.

"Some days I have sad days. Some days I just can't quite find happy. Some days everything feels a bit bad, even when it isn't. Some days you two do everything right, but my heart is still wrong."

It is quiet. No one needs to nod. We know.

"Today is one of those days for me. I'm sorry it is a hard day. I am trying, but I can't quite get to happy, and that is not your fault. I know you are doing everything right. Unfortunately, today, my heart isn't right. Today it's sad, and maybe instead of trying to pretend it is sunny and perfect day, I can just tell you what it really is. Maybe on days like these, it would help if we could tell each other that it isn't a sunny day, but a cloudy one. Maybe we could help all of us by simply giving an emotional weather forecast just like they give weather forecasts on the news. Then we know what to expect from each other, and we act and respond accordingly."

There are no nods. We all know. We know the power of understanding, the power of grace. We have the power to give it. We do that well. Now we have power to ask for it.

We snuggle close. I smile. The clouds still roll, but we are not as stormy.

We rest in the peace we could not create...only find...in the grace we know how to give each other...and ourselves...especially on emotionally cloudy days.

Just What I Needed

I stare at my email box.

Comments.

Sigh.

I didn't want comments. I closed the comments...just like I've turned off my phone and ignored my email.

Verses that are "old standards" that really don't help in the newness of my life changes.
Patented Christian "responses" that are meant to help me refocus, but only make me feel like I am expected to perform better.
Another book I need to read that will help me beyond this grief.
Another worship CD to get my mind off things.
Another means of ministry that will sooth my aching soul.
Another person wishing she could hug me. I find myself wishing she realized sbe needs to hug me more than I need to be hugged.

I push the delete button...and push it again and again until they are gone. I know they mean well, but this is not what I need.

I need Dena, who sat in my bedroom floor, smoothed my hair, and cried with me as I sobbed with the pain of missing my mom.

I need John, who makes me laugh, asks me about everything except my mom or marriage, and makes my eyes cross with how much mustard he puts on his pretzel.

I need Jessica, who has no answers, but when I text, "Mom's death certificates came in the mail today. I can't make myself open them," replies simply, "I have never seen one before. I can only imagine the pain in black and white..."

I need Stuart, who simply looks in my eyes and says, "I'm sorry you are hurting like this right now," and hugs me tight.

I need Lisa, who sends me {{hugs}}, love, and prayers from Idaho...almost daily...and I wrap up in them every single time.

I need Chris, who asks me how I am and doesn't question when I say fine...even though my voice says I clearly am not.

I need Amelia, who brings my favorite cookies, gives me a hug, tells me she misses me...but she is waiting...and she really is.

I need Raymond, who meets me for dinner, laughs hard at my CERT adventures, and shakes his head with how funny I find life to be...sometimes with how funny he finds me to be.

I need Diane, who sends me emails telling me she is praying, calls to tell me she was surprised by seeing a mutual friend, and always has a smile in her voice.

I need people like these who know despite the pain I will be fine...I am fine.

I need people who know the tears are normal, the sadness is normal, the laughter is real, and my faith is solid. I need people who aren't afraid of smeared mascara or bad jokes. I need people who understand when I need to talk...and when I simply can't...who know both are okay.

I stare at my screen and ponder the comments. These people have good hearts. They mean well. I know they do. It's just not what I need right now.

I sigh again...

My thoughts are interrupted by my phone. A text. Something stupid followed by, "LOL I love you!" I laugh out loud, too.

It's just what I needed.

Dark Places

When I am in a dark place, I tend to be quiet, to sort of hide in the shadows.

I do not wish for people to see my tears, to hear my sobs, or to share their advice. I do not want people to expect me to be anything. I do not want people to expect me to be "over it", to be strong for others, to be happy anyway, or to be miserable with pain.

I simply want to be.

Right now, I am in a dark place.

A dark place isn't a bad place. It is simply a place where I must depend on something...Someone...outside myself to give direction because none of my senses are reliable at this point. All I know and all I think mean nothing because in the dark, sounds are magnified, steps are not obvious, and I am guessing...about what lies ahead...about what lies behind...and how the two relate.

The dark is a place to be quiet, to be still, to rest.

And I am resting...from the voices...from the expectations...from needing to know everything...from needing to understand...from needing to have answers.

I am simply being.

And there is a peace in simply being...

...Even when it is in a dark place.

Life Moving On--Part 1

When my dad passed on, I got through his last hospital stay, his last day with us, his death, and the funeral relatively unscathed. Amazing what the human mind and body can do when one sets her mind to a task. People who watched from the outside were amazed at how well I did, how strong I was.

One friend, though, had the courage to pull me aside and ask, "So you are taking care of everyone else, and you are doing a great job. When are you going to crash?" In three weeks, I told him. He said he would be there. I don't know if he was prepared for how bad the crash was, but I wasn't.

I expected to cry, to miss my dad. I knew I'd pick up the phone to dial his number only to remember he wouldn't pick up. I knew I'd go home and his chair would be empty, and I knew I would choke and my heart would miss a beat or two.

I also expected when the funeral was done and all the activitiy was finished, I'd go home, have a long sleep, and jumpr right back into life where normal had left off. That was one of the greatest delusions of my whole life. I knew "normal life" no longer existed, but I didn't realize the "normal me" didn't either. I couldn't make it exist. I couldn't make me exist, not like I had been, and the harder I tried to do so, the worse things became.

Last week we buried my mom after a wild two months of doctor's visits, hospital stays, and emergency issues. The flurry of activity is over, but life won't go back to normal. It can't. I'm not "normal" either, not the normal I was. I never will be that person again, and instead of fighting that, I'm working with it, not letting it control, but letting it lead some. And I am giving myself grace and time.

These posts are my journey into the adjustment of my mom being gone and life moving on. Hope it encourages you to embrace life moving on, too.

Life Moving On--Part 2

Today's goals:
5 thank you notes
walk my usual distance
one set of 15 reps on my weights
catch up on grading homeschool stuff

Reality:
Wrote several thank you notes
Bought special thank you notes
Went grocery shopping
Walked my usual distance
Did the 1 set with weights
Sorted the shoes in the bags in the living room and several of the shoe boxes. We ended up with 117 matching pair of shoes. We think we are over 1/2 way finished sorting shoes.

Life:
Slept horribly last night. Had a lot of nightmares. I think I remember that being the case when Dad died as well.
My patience is too short, and I'm overreacting to the kids. Only makes me annoyed at myself.
Can't believe how horrible my house smells after having Mom's shoes in here for a few hours. I love her, and unlike other people close to her, I am not angry she smoked. I just hate the smell in the house. I'll open up the windows in the morning while it is still in the 60s and 70s to let it air out.
Have to work on catching up on grading tomorrow.
I'm so tired I could have gone to bed at 8:00.
Still nauseaus after eating. Figure that will settle in time.
Fixed a nice supper.

All in all, though, it was a good day. I love having the kids with me. I love the calm after the storm of the last two months. I just want to sleep better...speaking of which, I'm off to bed. Night.