Winter Is Not Forever

It's a cold Thursday in February.  Winter has been forever this year.  Would you agree?  I think it feels this way because it's been wintry in my life, winds blowing through the pieces of my life and scattering all my best laid plans.

These are my best laid plans: love God, love others, and eat.

It's pretty simple really, and just like no one person can manage to follow just ten basic commandments down to the letter, I can't manage these plans.

In recent weeks my ability to cope with others was at an all time low.  Summed up in few words: if you can't get your act together, I can't help you.  I was razor thin on patience and hog fat on judgment.  I'm not proud of that.

Adding to that....  I was hiding from church. I didn't want to go.  I didn't want to visit with people. I didn't want to concentrate and sit through a service.  Summed up in few words: because I am feeling confusing feelings, I can't worship.  I'm not proud of that either.

As you most certainly must know, I am from the Midwest.  America's heartland.  Apple pie flows like honey and chicken is best served fried.  My people do food; everything comes together with, and through, food.  Eating is truly one of life's joys and I embrace that sentiment.  I am completely unmotivated to craft a meal.  Can we just eat cereal and eggs? Every day?

It's winter, and while my joy is returning, I find myself aimless.  Many uncertainties cloud the future and I am not quite sure which direction my feet will go.  I don't live in the world that is colored in gray, only in black or white does it make sense. When the path in front of me seems to diverge, I get nervous.

I'm centering.  I'm starting slow.

One foot in front of the other.

Spending time in God's word.

A favorite passage:

"And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice."

A still small voice.  Reminds me that faith gets shaken. Trials will be ever present. Friends will forsake.  My only sure foundation, the only place I can find fulfillment and certainty is in a nail pierced hand that continuously stretches toward mine. 

Oh how He loves you and me. In still, small ways.  Such as when my son made me dinner tonight.  What a treat to not have to craft a  meal after a very long day at work.  It's okay with me that it was eggs because I offered eggs for every day. 

In still, small ways I am collecting my plans, thoughts, and directions.  I am remembering that God's plans supercede my own always.  I will not be frightened because many blessings have come to me in this way. 

I am realigning and will embrace the current state of single parenthood that stretches before me.  It is not new, but an old path.  One that starts to fit like a glove. An exhausting, demanding glove.

Winter is not forever.  Summer lasts also but a season, and so it will pass from one to the next before I know it.  I will change with it and see what new horizons dawn.

The Eternal Rhyme

Tonight is about reflection.

We have to take the time necessary to process our feelings.  We women can't be rushed. Write that down.  It's important to process your emotion, how you feel about circumstances or trauma.  Until it's processed, it eats the interior of your soul and given time, can crush your spirit. 

Deal with your emotion. Always.  It is the only choice to make.  Do not put a pin in it. Do not table it indefinitely. 

My life as you may know is currently unraveling in emotion, personal distress, and physical chaos.  As of today, my body is no longer able to physically bear children.  My family was complete, in my mind, several years ago, but it does not allay the subsequent sadness that accompanies a final reality.  

Our family is a hot mess right now.  Ryan blew into town for the weekend, from Phoenix, bringing with him some type of flu bug.  I fought hard all weekend against any such disease so as not to delay my procedure for a second time. Noah succumbed.  Poor, sweet Noah who has the regular immunity of a horse, was hard hit. Man down.  He has been worrying all evening about missing a second day of school.  I understand his duress.  Ryan is going out of town in the morning, so I rallied him, as patient zero, to help me change the bedding, clean the bathroom and Lysol the teenage room.  I'm still trying not to succumb to germs on top of surgical difficulty.  I'm also attempting to keep Aaron clear of it, but he prefers to take tommorow off school thank you very much, and he has declined vitamin support. 

Today's recovery has been more difficult than I anticipated.  My doctor said: "You'll be fine with some Ibuprofen." Well. If you mean by an entire bottle of such, okay agreed. All the while, juggling laundry; flu bug detox; dishes that amount when nobody cares about life; emptying garbage and pushing fluids and pills; both for myself and others, I'm thinking that I'm due to high school orientation this week, and I will have no more babies.  My life is chaotic and precious; my girl parts have always been an issue, but God still blessed me with two amazing sons, and the ride ever draws nears an end.  It's a hot mess that I have been privileged to manage, and one that is denied to some.  My arms feel the slightest bit empty of sweet baby smiles and cuddles as my aching insides yearn for relief.

I see the night when I broke my foot as Ryan prepared to deploy with his unit for Operation Iraqi Freedom.  It was the night of Aaron's second birthday.  I have very strict rules that all kids must begin potty training by 2 - no exceptions. Broken bones and missing husbands included.  It is pure parental nonsense that one "wait until the child is ready" for toilet training.  You wait much past the beginning stages of two, my friend, and you are in for a battle of endless wills that will have you changing large sized, kucka smelling poop diapers and wishing you had the foresight to begin earlier.  Aaron gave me a run for my money. Literally.  He ran all over the house peeing, quite gleefully, while I chased him on crutches.  It was a hot mess. But in three weeks I was still the boss and his little buns were faithfully seated on the toilet. And I was still on crutches.

I see the night we brought Noah home from the hospital.  We were terrible parents. (I was.)  He never stopped crying and I was thinking we might want to send him back.  New parents are exhausted.  It takes a lot of hours, physical pain, little rest, and little sustenance to bring a baby forth.  Once that precious bundle is in your arms, it does not cease to demand.  I gave up, friends.  I'm not proud but on that night in question, I gave up.  I turned the bright light on right in Ryan's face, laid the baby on him, and I said: "Here is your son, do something with him."  And I promptly went to sleep.  

I see so many nights as I reflect and process my emotion.  One wild adventure of motherhood that had a clear beginning and now has a definitive end.  Oh, indeed my time with the title "Mother" continues, because someone will have to call a teenager off school tomorrow and do more laundry and try to make some food.  But the window has closed on the past.  The window that brings love to life and gives the night owls human company.

A beautiful season closed today.

I feel a sense of loss for what was.  How is it that far back in memory?

I feel anxiety for the limited time ahead.  Am I still a terrible parent, do they know what they need to know?

I feel intense joy for what has been mine.  "Can we do it all over again? One more of those disgusting slobber "sugar" kisses that only a mother loves?

I have a precious and chaotic life with one handsome husband who does battle for me, who stands alongside in the parental trenches, and who today called me beautiful in all my haggard post-op ugliness.  You can't put a price on that.

I have a precious and chaotic life with Noah Ryan and Aaron Michael, aged 14 and 12, respectively.  I remember much and I forget much about the days of our lives.  I do know that welcoming these two into my heart was so very easy and launching them will be the most difficult thing I will do.

"How very special are we, for just a moment to be, part of life's eternal rhyme....."

The Winds of February

February.  I welcome you.  For this January was the longest and darkest I have known in some time.

Not all seasons of this precious life are brimming with happiness, cheer and goodwill.  Not all seasons have laughter, banter, and blessing.  Some seasons require daily or hourly attention to the course in front of us.  Put your foot here.  Put your foot here.  Jesus, help me to keep doing this thing called life.  Give me strength.  Meet me here.  Jesus, I need you. This is my January season. So long it was.

What I can appreciate about these seasons of life....  What gives me hope...  The people who meet you where you are.  They bend down to your stooped level, they look in your eyes, though you are desperately trying to look elsewhere because you are ashamed, and they stay.  They agree that it's not looking so great in this place.  They  serve you when you cannot serve yourself.  They care for your heart when you have forgotten how. And unselfishly they stay.

I have had doctor appointments in the double digits for the past 8 weeks. My personal space has been violated repeatedly.  Just one blessed time I would prefer to keep my clothes on thank you very much and I would prefer not to be manhandled with instruments, hands, and knives.  I want all the people to stay three feet away from me for the next two weeks.  I understand health is important.  I understand the need to endure such times. But as I became a middle aged person all I could see was: "This is my future.  For the next years that God gives me, I'm never going to get to keep my clothes on."  Colonoscopies, mammograms, cancer screenings, blood work, stress tests, ultrasounds, physicals...   I'm currently over it and it's just going to be that way for awhile.(Thank you, Jesus, for my life, I do treasure it even though I am exhaustified.)

It's been so discouraging.  I've been really, really low, which is atypical of my nature. I have to encourage myself to get to work.  Maybe you can get a cookie..?  I have to encourage myself to get to church. Maybe you can get a coffee?

Such times come to each of us.  None of us are without trial.  I hope you have people that meet you in the Not So Great place.  I hope you have people that stay.  To be chosen during such a time speaks volumes. By their actions, someone says, "I know you cannot reciprocate but I am giving to you anyway."   It's such a powerful thing to serve the broken.  You will be immeasurably blessed to give without expectation to receive.  And, to the person who cannot give back, you will have changed the course of their day or possibly their life.

February we're glad to see you.  We're glad to know that no season is permanent this side of heaven.  We like for the good seasons to stay a long while and the low seasons to exit quickly, but there are no guarantees.  We lift our cup of tea in honor of the broken everywhere.  We lift our hearts in thanksgiving for those who choose to stay.