Thursday, August 11, 2016

Moment by Moment

Do you ever think that dreams are better left as just that....dreams?  I have had a few dreams in my life.  I have had some that were even better than expected and some that seemed even more completely terrifying after they came true.

Seven months after moving far from everything and everyone I have ever know,  I feel settled.  I don't have anxiety attacks when driving down roads that have more cars than I am use to seeing when wanting to go to the grocery.  I've learned that while the big beautiful mall is fun to walk around in, I'm still a Kohl's girl at heart.  I've learned that some things are scarier in my head than they actually are.  The bridge to take to St. Pete is overwhelming but the views are so beautiful it distracts from the fear.

I've learned that God sent people ahead of me to make this transition easier.  When I first wanted to move here at least ten years ago, I wouldn't necessarily have ended up where I did with people who are some of the kindest I've ever met.  I've learned that you can find doctors who are good and not abrupt even in a larger area and that is easier to find than finding a good haircut.

Most importantly though I've learned that even though moving was scary, I have the best people to go through it with.  My family is far from perfect and sometimes we drive each other crazy but at the end of the day they are my favorite humans in all the world.  I can mess up or just be stupid and they will still love me.  I have the best partner in life I could ever dream up.  I've learned that his calm is one of my greatest treasures.  All in all moving has been one of the easier of dreams to follow.

Writing however, has been by far the hardest.  The actual writing process is hard enough but throw in things that you never thought of as possibilities, and there have been points in my journey that have made me think more than once...that keeping that dream a dream may have been a better option.  Two books in and I have spent two years not wanting to pull the trigger to attempt a third.

If you don't try you don't have to fail, right?  I tend to think big in my what ifs.  The big success though is something I only truly think I want to obtain in theory.  As in, "Wouldn't it be cool to be like Adele?"  or "Wouldn't it be cool to be like Jen Hatmaker or Beth Moore?"  In theory, those things sound very cool but actually becoming someone like them requires something that I do not currently possess....Courage.  Well that and an overabundance of talent and sheer determination.  I'm not sure I'm so determined to excel at really anything.  I don't just think big successes either in my what ifs.  I equally thing big failures.  What if I am a no talent hack?  What if I have to speak and I projectile vomit all over the people there to hear me or wet my pants or faint?

Perhaps moving is the extent of bravery and courage I possess.  In moving I didn't go alone and I absolutely know that I don't go alone in any endeavor, God goes with me.  In my humanness I need someone else to go with me too.  That would be the Moses in me. I don't want to go but if I do send someone with me. I am someone who lacks the particular gene that holds any bit of self confidence.  Not a trait I was given in my upbringing.

The pastor at church as been (appropriately) doing a sermon series on courage.  Abraham, Moses, Ruth, Joshua, David, and Daniel.  And he isn't done.  All of these people had struggles and in the end showed great courage.  Abraham was hard to get through, Moses worse, but David about destroyed me.  The struggle in finding my identity continues.  The figuring out of who I am and who I am meant to be seems to be taking longer for me to figure out than most.

Perhaps it is my fault.  By my own admission I have tried to surround myself with friends who are smarter than I am.  People I can learn from and enjoy being around and people who aren't afraid to tell me when I am being an idiot.  Those are the qualities I look for in a friend.  How can you grow if you surround yourself with people who always agree with you?  I have learned from my friends but I think to some extent I want them to figure me out.  Tell me what I am supposed to do.  I am not sure about a lot of things but I am certain that I have a lot of growing to do.  More than most by my estimation.

Mostly I cannot imagine how God could ever use me or why He would ever pick me for anything.  I am quite possibly the most exasperating person I know.  I am much better at believing IN God than I am in BELIEVING God.  I am well acquainted with my faults.  The inventory is long and likes to be acknowledged with regularity.  Old habits die hard don't they?

In church we are learning about courage than comes from God and stays with you for a lifetime.  The thing is...I don't think it is something that one attains all at once.  Or maybe it does and that just hasn't been my experience.  I think it is a moment by moment thing.  I think...and maybe I am off base here, but I think that we have to choose moment by moment what to believe, not only about God but about ourselves too.  Some days are easier than others.  Life is full of decisions.  You make good ones, you make bad ones, but I think maybe not making a decision is worse.  I tend to live there.  On the island of indecision and self doubt and even doubting if God talks to me at all.  Maybe I am just crazy and my what ifs take on a life of their own and I only think God is trying to tell me something.

At this point in my life I am content in my family.  I love our little life with all of our ups and downs.  We have eliminated all semblance of feeling stuck in the same ole same ole.  I stay home and take care of my family now that we have moved just like I did before with the exception being that I no longer have a part time job at a school.

When the first book was coming out I was hoping that it would do well but not too well because I couldn't figure out the logistics of how my family would function if such things as book tours were to arise.  Even now, I'm not sure how that would work.  It isn't that I excel at being a mother.  Probably the opposite as the only thing they really know how to feed themselves are frozen foods, sandwiches and cereal.   I just cannot see how it could work even though two of my children are legal adults now.  How many dreams do we get anyway?  Aren't I too old for dreams now anyway?  Are there age limits to these things?  Are you seeing it?  I am the consummate excuse maker.  The struggle is very real. I fear things that haven't happened, probably wouldn't happen, and likely won't happen.  I'm scared of the parts that I don't want to sign up for.

Moment by moment we decide.  Moment by moment we believe or don't believe.  What if it only took a single moments worth of courage?  What if it only took one moment to become a 'David' or a 'Jonah'?  It essentially did, didn't it?  In my moments, I tend to spent them in the belly of the fish with the Jonahs.  He is not the ideal when it comes to bravery and courage.  The man chose to be thrown over a boat to possibly die in the ocean only to be swallowed by a fish than to go where God told him to go.  I've been there.  That is how my mind works.  If only we could all be David and go with a sling and a stone knowing that God would bring the victory.  Knowing that you wouldn't projectile vomit or pass out or wet yourself in front of a group of people because your fear is so great.

Every Sunday during this series we see the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz talk about all of the creatures that have courage and what they have that he doesn't have....courage.  We see this then we get the lesson.  I can't help but wonder if that will be my legacy?  Two books in and scared to pull the trigger for number three because of what it might/will mean.  Trilogies.  I'm locked in, all in, with three.  There is no turning back.  I can't take it back and I'm not sure I would want to.  It is a very personal thing to write what I write.

Staying true to who I am, a woman with little to no filter or restraint from keeping things real, I will say that I have stared at this page for the last four hours.  Struggling even to publish a post, something I've done time and time before.  Then one phone call from a friend who says just the right thing...because I have done this before.  How can I fear something that I have done already?  It's like riding a ride and knowing your stomach is going to drop but being surprised when it drops anyway.  So after hours of looking at this rubbish here it goes in 3, 2, 1.....

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

The Great Escape

Twelve years ago my life was irrevocably altered when my mother passed away from cancer.  Before her diagnosis I was living in the house we had built four years prior.  It was decorated in the style of college dorm meets daycare.  There was crayon on the walls, stickers on the sliding glass doors and Barbie jeeps in the yard.  My son was just a baby and I was enjoying my days of breaking up fights between little girls and gazing at this beautiful son God had blessed us with that wasn't planned but was such a gift to us.  I couldn't get enough of his tiny toes and making him giggle by blowing on his belly.  My mother couldn't believe a boy could be so wonderful having had brothers and I couldn't either having had no experience at all and being an only child.

We had had some struggles but we were finding our stride.  We were watching more and more houses being built in our neighborhood and making some friends in the community.  I had the family I never knew I always wanted and while I was a floundering fish when it came to having all the answers in raising children I couldn't imagine anything could change what we had finally achieved.

I remember the headaches were what started it all.  I remember the rush to the hospital and the look in the doctor's eye when he broke the news that it was cancer and it was advanced to stage 4.  I remember the shift.  The look on my mom's face of total disbelief and shock.  I remember the appointments that followed.  I remember the argument with the doctor over whether she would lose her hair or not.  I remember the yell from the shower when her hair was indeed coming out and that it was a friend that took her to get her first of many wigs.  I remember eggs and how she always wanted eggs after treatments.  I remember the day that I went to her room and she didn't know me, her only child who had been caring for her.  I remember when her mind came back from wherever she had been and her yelling at me because she had missed a party.  I remember the remission and how short it was.  I remember taking her to the doctor and begging him to fix it and him asking me what happened.  I remember saying I needed help.

I remember the nurse visits and July coming and asking if she would make it to my birthday it was only two weeks away.  I remember the hot sunny July 13th that my family spent in our pool and checking to see if my mom would rebound and be able to speak to me....always checking.  I remember being so tired and peeking in on her and she appeared to just be sleeping and my baby was finally asleep and laying down to rest for just a little while.  I remember my mother in law waking me and asking me if I had checked and saying yes she was asleep and her telling me to call the nurse.  I remember staying by her side through the night and watching a lightening show outside the window of her room in my house and for once not being afraid of the storm outside because my fear of what was coming inside the house had already started to take hold.   I remember feeling Jesus at the foot of her bed and looking to see if I could see him and taking her hand and telling her best friend to take her hand because it was coming to an end.  I remember feeling the life leave her body.  I remember calling the nurse and the funeral home coming to take her away.  I remember the next day and the day after that.  I remember the funeral and coming home and falling to the floor surrounded by funeral flowers and that is when I checked out.

I went through the motions for two years and then with God's help I checked back into my life.  I couldn't escape the pain and loss and I couldn't hide from life any more.  I started making jewelry, I got involved in MOPS and later helped at preschool.  Time started to move quickly but would slow down every year in July.  I started writing this blog before I really understood the purpose of it.  In the writing I found healing.  July being the crux of it all.  I'm not sure if it would have been easier if it hadn't all happened literally right before my birthday or not or if she had passed in a hospital.  Those are questions I will have when I meet Jesus face to face.

I moved 1100 miles away from everything I've ever known.  I moved for several reasons but it didn't escape my notice that it was the ultimate escape from every reminder that I could possibly encounter.  That's the thing about grief really, it has a way of finding you no matter how far you run.  July 13th and 14th will come every year no matter what until Jesus returns.  This year I sit under an outdoor fan and my view is of a pool with the difference being there is a palm tree just beyond it.  My great escape.  I regret not one bit of this escape to my version of paradise.  Not how difficult it was to get a drivers license, not how scary the roads can be, not even knowing exactly seven people in all of the state.  My great escape wasn't really about running away this time.  It was about running to a possibility.  An idea that life could be more than what I had made it no matter how comfortable I finally became with it all.  A what if....God has more for me than what I've allowed myself.  A separation from the comfortable and predictable and an idea that the fear had had its hold on me for too long.

I remember all of it 12 years later.  Grief finds you but it doesn't have to disable you like it did me for far too long.  I miss my mom every day.  I miss arguing with her, shopping with her, eating with her, talking to her on the phone.  I miss her calling me 'Heth' and asking me 'what do you want to do next kong?'  I miss that to her my birthday was a big deal and the one time that I was sure I wasn't a mistake.  No one else can do that for you but your mom.  I have no one left from my side of the family that calls to check in.  I am blessed that God had that covered with the husband and kids and in laws that he gave me to do that.  So yes, I'm still sad and I still kind of hate July.  This year though I'm counting my blessings and watching the wind blow the palm tree and saving my tears for later and not allowing them to take over.  This great escape has more to offer.

Sunday, July 10, 2016

July, Journeys, and Finding a Way Back

It has been six months since we flew caution to the wind and moved away from everything we ever knew.  I still have moments that I wake up and think it was a dream and only when I look for my favorite tree outside my bathroom window does it occur to me that it is not a dream.  We didn't just move to a new house in the same area we moved to my idea of paradise and what mostly makes it paradise is that we all came together.  Being away from everything can be a good thing at times.  This is now home, our new normal.

Perks to being away include the fact that I don't feel like I need to escape to get through the month of July.  I don't walk into rooms and see my mother and have to replay those last days over and over. I don't have to tell myself there was nothing I could have done and that it wasn't my fault.   I don't have to convince myself that if only I could run away I wouldn't have to feel the loss constantly. I am away and I still feel the loss but only now that it is July, and especially now that I have had a phone call from my dad to remind me.

My step brother has passed away.  My dad called to let me know.  The shocking part is that I actually got a call.  We have literally gone years without a word from him.  We moved four states away and he didn't call to see if we arrived safely.  He called three months later.  If there is bad news to be shared or a family function to attend it is my aunt who sends a text or a phone call to inform us.  It is a very sad time.  I'm mostly sad because while our parents are married I nor my children were included in my dad's new family.  Just as my dad's family always referred to me as my mother's daughter and rarely as father's daughter I was never considered a sister or a daughter to his wife and step children, no matter what I did or tried.  I'm a reasonably intelligent person, I can take a hint.  So my step brother has passed away and I am sad for the brother/sister relationship I didn't get to have and I'm sad for his family but I am essentially a stranger looking in from the outside.  This being confirmed by the fact that I wasn't even mentioned as a sister in the obituary.

My dad then went on to ask me if I remembered what day my mother died.  It has been three days since this phone call and I still can't figure how he could think I would forget.  I'm an only child and my mother wasn't married at the time of her death at fifty two years of age.  I was her care taker.  I was 31 with three children ages 7, 6, and 1 to take care of while I took care of my dying mother and I turned 32 the day after she died.  I can't forget that.  He  continued with 'what year was it?' to which I responded it will be 12 years this year it was 2004.  He said, 'it doesn't seem like its been that long ago.'  I said, 'well I get to remember it every year so...'  He said, 'well I guess we all have things we have to carry with us.'  Indeed.  He continued to endear himself to my heart further but I won't share the rest of it.  I just absorbed it all and mostly I just wondered why I'm not worthy of his love.

You know how God sometimes protects you from yourself?  I couldn't respond how I might have, had I not been so stunned to just answer the questions.  My dad may lack compassion and completely lack sensitivity but that doesn't mean that I have to lose those things when speaking with him.  It does not give me the right to be rude and it doesn't even necessarily allow me to tell him how I feel about how I am treated by him or the rest of his family.  His wife once essentially told me I was a mistake and my dad wouldn't have married my mom had she not been pregnant.  It's not true but it sums up how she feels about me and she never wanted my children to call her grandma.  I have tried talking to him and it gets me nowhere.  What it does do is remind me of who I don't want to be, how I don't want to treat people, and sometimes why I really needed to move away from everything I ever knew.

I believe I needed to move so I could be allowed to grow.  God takes us from our comfort zones so we can be stretched and grow into who we are meant to be.  I had become so comfortable I was afraid to do things I had once done.  I was so comfortable I didn't necessarily need to leave the house.  I had become so comfortable it is possible I was beginning to convince myself that I could go on the rest of my life not living life to the fullest and continuing to run from God and what is quite possibly what he had planned for me all along.  I stopped writing.  I convinced myself I had finished that segment in life and that God couldn't possibly want me to do it anymore because no one read what I had to say anyway. I wasn't any good at it and I should spend more time reading instead of writing.  And maybe I'm not good at it but I'm starting to think it isn't up to me to decide that.  I started forgetting who I was.

God knows who I am.  I tend to forget or I tend to think He is wrong and I am right.  I am nobody.  I can't be used for anything.  What could I possibly contribute to the literary world or any part of the world in general?  But what if its not about me?  What if my healing and growing comes when just one person reads what I have to say finds God seeking them out?

I read quite a bit and I love to sing.  Reading is an escape.  Singing is fun.  I'm a terrible singer.  I know this, it isn't my gift.  I still love it. Yesterday I helped with my first demo day and tore down a wall.  Something I may have talked myself out of before.  I was awesome.  I'm trying to find myself.  Maybe you are too.  When I write it is like I'm taking others with me on this journey.  Maybe you can relate to my adventures with my family, maybe you can relate to my journey with God, maybe you just need to feel like you aren't alone in this haphazard road we are all on together called Life. Whatever brings you here, I hope you find yourself too.  I hope God reaches your heart through something He has me write.  So it appears I'm finding my way back.  When God gives me the words I'll meet you here.  Until next time...