Never Alone

 Hello dear ones...

It is the first weekend in December. I'm sitting in bed, not feeling very well, and thinking about every last minute of this year and wondering how I made it to December 4th. 

I think only the love of good people and the grace of a good, good Father. 

I've written about the struggles of this year, both physically, starting off year 40 with surgery and medication to make one crazy;  emptying my life blood on the roof of 6 Temple Hills (someone please drive by and admire it); and then, emotionally, as I closed my life, watched my beloveds close theirs, and then all of us, painstakingly, beginning anew.  January and November were SO hard.  

This old lady has been on one heck of a journey. No more babies. No more leaking roof. No more peeling floor tiles.  No more pharmacy life. No more Scrabble games. No more mexicano date nights. No more colorful trees. No more pine needles. No more Grace friends. No flour. No diet coke. No mask free days. No church. No touching. No breathing. No coughing, sniffling, nor sneezing. 

You know what? Somehow I'm ending year 40 and 2020 with people who love me and Jesus as close as a whisper.   Somehow my dearest people have not abandoned me. They saw me cry a lot this year. They saw me during some (many) of my most anxiety filled days.  They know, like I know, it is with difficulty that we deal with the shifting of our core foundation, and it takes time. Our countenance does not improve overnight.  Our problems do not dissipate with the rising of the sun.  Little by little, though, we make it. And today, I see that I have come quite far down this road. 

In retrospect, I can see as always, God's hands in my life.  Never once did I walk alone. When I tried to hide and cry, God always caught my tears. And more often than not, my husband was not oblivious. (He's too good, that one.)  God bids us come and find rest. For the pandemic weary soul. For the one who is tired of being alone. For the one who is ready to be forgiven and free of guilt. Rest, and a companion for the journey. One who never tires of your desperate cries. "Is that you again, Angela? Come on over here and sit a spell. Breathe. Breathe. C'mon, I gave you the breath of life for a reason. Quit wasting it. Breathe. Yes, that's good, that's good. You can let go of your old life. You can do it. You can learn to like palm trees. You can learn to like SAP, it's not CFRx, but you can do it. You can choose in this life. I made you in My image and I gave you choice, and, specifically, I put a little bit of feisty sass in there. Year 41 is ahead, look ahead, for I am ahead. I'll be with you there. You're going to continue to miss the turn on Louis Henna Blvd, it's just your thing, but keep driving anyway."

Just like that, friends, just like that, I can breathe easier. The Author of my faith is all around.  He is in my past so clearly.  He is beside me and, most importantly, He is in front of me. The world is becoming very convoluted and uncertain, but I'm going toward a city not made with hands and you know what waits for me? A Savior. 

Peace is spoken into the night. All is well. 

Now that I'm quiet, now that I'm still....

The journey has been so difficult. I feel all the emotion my memory eyes can see. Here I am, though, with people who still love me and Jesus just a whisper away. 

It's been good, friends, it's been good. We develop so much in the valley years. Those people who remain only become more dear. Those lessons only add to wisdom. 

In this night, I'm choosing to say goodbye. 

I'll sip hazelnut flavored coffee. I'll tell Jesus I can what you have done here, you have answered my prayers. 

I'm not adventurous but I am learning perseverance. My will is synchronizing for the long term.  

Goodbye to the elementary years of my children. Goodbye to the place I reared them, the kitchen where I plastered their artwork.  Goodbye to the season that gave me the gift of perseverance. Goodbye to young motherhood. Goodbye to youthful perspective.

I am choosing the next step. I am ready to see these kids as drivers and workers. I am ready to make the turn on Louis Henna Blvd. I am ready for the next bend in my road. 

Thank you, Grief, for being with me all through this year. Thank you for helping me to feel. Thank you for helping me to say goodbye so that Joy arrives.  You are ever a faithful companion, but one day, when I get to the city not made with hands, you and I will part ways forever. 

I will look toward my Savior and all I will need is joy. 

Dear ones, thank you for remaining with me. For reading, for praying, for encouraging me this year. From the beginning when some dear souls snuck into NY in a snowstorm, before COVID, because of love; to the end, now with my little family in Texas, alone, and moving forward. Thank you for your friendship and love. May you also find Jesus meets you just where you need Him.  Merry Christmas! 

Waiting

After evaluation, I can note that I have made two significant mistakes with this move.

1) Underestimating the time it would take to process the shifting of the plates of my life.

2) Getting a new job so quickly. 

I have been winging each day, continuing to hope that the horizon of happiness is coming closer to me.  It would seem this is not the proper way for mental health. I have put myself smack in the middle of a full blown life without allowing for my two faithful companions to first fulfill their roles.  These two follow me all the days of my life; grief and joy. 

I am struggling in no small way to push forward. I believe I have cried every single day this week.  The worst part is that the tears are always just behind my eyes.  I feel like I will cry at any moment.  And then I do. And then I'm mad about it. 

Grief, my old friend, I recognize your creased face. Etched lines; pain filled eyes; small, sad mouth; your face is as familiar as my own. Come, old friend, I think you know the way.  Down the hall and maybe to the right....here we go, here is the room we want.  The hippocampus.  Look in there, isn't it something? Look at all those memories. Pathways upon pathways, mixed, jumbled, severed, dangling, and growing.  You know the places you have been prominent. It still smarts. You can see the memory, dark and then splintered gray.  Without you, friend, this room might be brighter, but it would not be richer. Your part in this journey is so significant.  It hurts when you are here, but you define and shape me. You develop compassion and empathy within me, right in this room.  Sometimes, like now, I need to sit with you and feel loss, fear, unhappiness, anxiety. I need to hold your hand and feel it. I need to know, outside this room, that it's okay to do just that. I need to invite you to come and visit for awhile each day. 

Right now, we're going to drive to 6 Temple Hills.  Doesn't the roof look great? Can you believe you did that? (Nope.) Weren't those boys so small as they ran off the school bus? (So very small and precious. Why is it over?) Wasn't it amazing that you welcomed friends through that door? (Yes, it was God appointed.) 

Wait, are we heading toward Orem? Those are some pretty swell rocks up that canyon. (Bittersweet. I can't take that one tonight.) Look at that adorable and quirky house. (It was so strange and wonderful.)  Grief, you have been here in many capacities; yet...   Hello, Joy. There you are. It took me awhile to find you, but here you are.  Your face is content; eyes, soft; lips, parted in a smile. Already I feel the shift in the atmosphere, I feel calm. You color the gray memories with peace.  You always visit us eventually. 

It's a long journey through this room, this life.  I'm not as young as once I was. I am more set in my ways than the last times I traveled this road; the experience is different. I really feel I probably can't do it again. Tennessee might now forever remain a dream in my heart.  

Grief must remain with me until I am spent of it. I hope I'll see Joy soon.  I hope the horizon comes to meet me. 

I hope I can do this.  

I hope. 

Small Seems Good

 I am bumbling my way through change, one day at a time, as you well know.  Today I couldn't help but remember at last year's Christmas party, Austin came up in conversation and 3/5 people (plus their families) at that table now live here.  I couldn't have imagined then where I would now be.

My constant struggle is feeling safe, secure and home. Literally every hour still feels full of stress and claustrophobia. I am not comfortable in my house, in my car, or anywhere I go. I don't remember feeling quite this much trouble last time.  I didn't like it, but I don't remember feeling like I couldn't get rest. Unfortunately, I wasn't blogging then so I can't check. 

Tonight, I decided I would try out my new-to-me bathtub.  After I worked all day followed by more cleaning and organization, I felt I deserved a few minutes to be a girl. 

Let me preface the rest of this story and/or posting by saying this: I am merely expressing my feelings and experiences. I fully understand that I am experiencing blessings, but I'm a bit at a loss for some of it. 

For example, the bathtub. 

I figured out how to get the plug working, got the water going; I prepared restful music, I stacked up some towels for drying and added a few for the luxury of pillowing my head against the surround. It's pretty exciting. A tub with surround for candles, perfume, flowers, whatever all the girls want these days.  I realized one must be careful when stepping into the full tub, it's actually pretty slippery (I don't remember this part from Pretty Woman... just saying) and I have PTSD from falling down the basement stairs earlier this year. My shoulder/arm still doesn't work right. Tubs might not be for senior citizens....  I'll keep that in mind. 

The water is perfect for Goldilocks, not too hot and not too cold. I get all settled and lay back. Halfway down I realize Houston has a problem. I'm not going to make it because my legs are already going up in the air. I hit the porcelain and slide right down the side and float in the water. Hum. This isn't how it looks in the movies for sure. I have to kick my legs to get back up to a sitting position. Let's try it again.  Take two.  I slide further back so I'm closer to the back edge. The shower is right behind me so I feel I can leverage it a bit if I can reach the glass and hold myself in the water. I stretch out my "bad" arm over my head and fwoomp...hit the porcelain, slide down and float. I literally cannot keep my body on the floor of the tub without pushing up the water with my hands like you would in a pool. Am I treading water in my bathtub? Is that....ermm.... becoming? I mean I don't see it in the movies.  Did Julia Roberts have an issue like this?  I can't turn on the relaxing music because I can't tough my phone now that I'm completely drenched and not just leisurely damp. I could probably swim around a bit but that defeats the purpose of relaxing my nerves.  Sigh. It's not in the cards today. I'm going to need to apply an apparatus to the tub so I can ground myself with my feet. You know. Like all beautiful, poised adult starlets. For the love. 

I'm not sure I'm cut out for some of this.  I'm kind of a simple person. You know hobbits, good earth and growing things, good food, good friends, a small life.  My Texas life does not feel small; I don't think it's going to be small.  

I'm standing on the edge, so timid to go farther, so afraid of a big life.  I don't know how to embrace it; I stand in Lowe's and cry for the comfort of my old home that already has the perfect colors of my life. I can't even visualize what paints this new season. 

Change is so hard. Being brave is so hard. A new life is so hard. 

One day at a time. One more cannon ball into the bathtub.  Humor finds its way through the tears. 

A phone call came today. A voice on the other end of the line telling me that I am loved. Someone cheering me on from the sidelines.  Oh, dear one, you know who you are.  Your voice touched all the wounded places in my heart.  

Remember encouragement, friends.  Remember the ones drowning in the bathtub. We are not okay.  Among other things, we need stilts, Snickers (no, wait, Butterfingers, because no one else in this house likes those), and a word from you.  

We need help to launch. We can't do it alone. 

Freezing the Snapshots

At The Beginning

Homewood Suites.  Fourth floor. Round Rock, Texas. I'm not sure I can define it as home but it will do for now. 

This is my least favorite part of the process and what I have been dreading the most. I was trying to prepare myself for the feeling of being stuck. Of knowing that this is not a fun situation or place to be.  Of wanting to go back but knowing that you can't. Of having nothing to do and no one to see. It summation, this is the part where you have no life and everyone that you know still has one.

It is the part that is lonely.  

It is also the part where you learn how to cope. No one will can help you with that, it's something you must do alone.

I have quickly learned that driving in Texas will not be enjoyable.  The roads, patterns, signals, and traffic make little sense. The drivers are terrible and I think it's because they just don't know any better. There are so many one way streets and the GPS is little to no help. It can never tell if you are on the freeway or the access road. As someone wisely told me not so long ago, "Technology just isn't where we want it yet."

Give yourself plenty of time to miss all the exits and streets so that you can arrive on time to your destination. I will try to wait to tackle the region until my car arrives, which should be tomorrow or Tuesday. I am better equipped to face the unknown in a car I know how to handle. I will show them how it is done in a professional, kind and aggressive manner. 

Preparing meals has been somewhat taxing for the first few days. Friday was the longest day of my life and yet, we still battled the grocery store for supplies and I cooked. Takeout would have been the better option.  We have one stockpot, one skillet, service for four, two burners, one microwave, and no oven.  I broke the only can opener, as soon as I closed it on the can. One last swipe was all the lifeblood it had to give and it went to its final rest. At this point it is 7pm CST and I have been up since 3am EST. I find a machete in the drawer that is quite sharp, actually, and request that my husband karate chop the can of tomatoes and kidney beans. It is harder than you might think to bust into cans. You'd think the goods would kinda ooze out through even a little space, but, no, it is nearly impossible to pry the tomatoes out.  Frustrating. This meal was frustrating, but in the end, after a long week of takeout and half meals and no eating, it felt amazing to eat something created at home. (Even though it took almost double the time to cook on the electric burner.) 

Yesterday we bought more things at the store including a mega toaster oven so we could bake and enjoy the "local" $16 cherry pie we purchased on Friday before we realized that we had no oven. Seriously, how could we make it a month without an oven? We also bought a vacuum because there is no housekeeping because of COVID.  Our newly purchased coffeepot should arrive today because all they have is a little instant one that you can't use regular coffee in. I felt like I was a little prepared from the last time we did this, but last time we definitely had more kitchen amenities. My favorite blankie, dishwasher pods, dish soap, and instapot will be arriving with my car and I packed a candle in my suitcase.  My bag got searched but they didn't steal it! It smells wonderful in here. 

You know what is not wonderful? Learning at 11:15pm that your beloved cat is chasing a cockroach around the room. Joyfully pacing to and fro and that little (actually really big) thing is chugging. I didn't even want to go to bed because I didn't know where it came from or where it was going. I didn't want the cat to bring it to bed. I didn't want to imagine more bugs in the bed, in the dark, when I could not see. I did not rest easy, but morning brings news of death and I am grateful. Should I report this? Is this just everyday news? Leave me a note in the comments. I hate bugs and I think my Texas life will be complicated.

I think today we will venture out and find an "authentic" dining experience and I shall sit by the pool and catch some rays.  I'll not quite be starting work yet, but soon. Getting the kids into school is also still a work in progress.  We have all agreed it would be so much easier if we could just move into a new house. But this timeframe is the time of testing, it separates the men from the boys, it determines your will to survive and thrive. Because if I didn't have that will? I would have given up at, "Uhh..haha....babe...I think Sam is chasing a cockroach." To lead your family through this time, to guide them amidst frustration and sadness, encourages strength and gives firm grounding for what is to come.  A good life can be built from a solid foundation. 

So.  I have a temporary oven, a new can opener, a vacuum, and a coffeepot. I have a candle. I have a dead bug that is being removed.  I have three people with me, all playing video games, and one cat that isn't quite settled yet.  I have two teenage birthdays to plan for next weekend, because birthdays don't want for better timing. 

This is the hard part, yet from the hard parts come the best stories that add to the foundation that forges bonds. Friendship. Family. All are cemented by memories, hard conversations, difficult times, and laughter.  

I was the only one not chuckling at the bug incident, but I did enjoy hearing the laughter and that everyone else was taking it in stride. 

These are my people. And we are on an adventure in the unknown parts of the world. 

We are at the beginning. 

At The End

This week has been busy, painful, joyful, and exhausting.  I am reminded time and again how it feels so much like the last time I did this. Naturally that dredges up wonderful and melancholy memories and feelings of my Utah based family. My brain is stacked, layer upon layer, with snippets and pieces of my life. My "rest" is infused with complicated dreams and I wake up each morning unsure what day it is and where I am. Getting two teenagers off to school is harder than I thought. I can't be sure how they survived without me all these years. I think it's probably been the same routine, I've just not been here to stress about their body getting on the bus on time. They seem to lack a particular sense of urgency.  All I know is I am NOT battling 2500 other parents at the HS/MS COVID cautious dropoff line. Get your behind on that bus, come hell or high water. 

I have cried every single day because. The people. The people are so kind and dear and "goodbye" is the hardest word spoken. 

I have been working to withdraw and enroll my kids for school. I'm tired of looking at my phone and trying to accomplish these tasks. You have no idea how much easier it would be to do this on a computer.  I think I'm almost to the finish line. Just need to place a couple calls today.   We are definitely going to need more technology in TX.   

In the early summer, we got a POD to put some of our stuff in storage while we listed and sold our home. They returned said POD, per our request, on Tuesday and plunked it right in the middle of the incoming lane. Not on the curb, not next to the curb, but literally in the middle of the road. We emptied it promptly and tried to get them to return to get it, but they said Friday was the best they could do.  Thankfully, we live in a small neighborhood with no outlet, so traffic is minimal. However, I knew someone would complain, and the state police would be at my door. Sure enough, they arrived yesterday, late afternoon.  The trooper was nice enough, he took our information, I assume filled out his report and departed.  Ticket's in the mail....  We'll see. (This morning the buses had difficulty getting around because someone parked right in front of it on the opposite side of the street.) Lordy, just get me out of here without one more blessed visit from the police. I've been in more trouble in NY state than anywhere. Y'all are serious up in here.  

We are finally under contract in Texas. It took us seven offers, but the good Lord perfected it and we are pretty excited with the possibility. Inspections are underway and more negotiation will occur, but I think it will work out to be ours. It has a pool!  It has a very quiet and private backyard which is something we have never had. This current house has been great but there was a definite lack of backyard privacy and the neighbors liked to enjoy their tunes at a high volume. I mean, I'm okay with country music, but no one else in this house is remotely on board with that. I went wrong somewhere with these friends....  I like to think seven years in Texas ought to set them straight. Just remember....I was not the one who initiated this move. 

I have less than seven days in NY. The weather is blessed by God to see me out. The leaves are turning beautiful shades because of the cold snap; now it is warm, sunny and breathtaking to behold.  It is a beautiful way to transition to a place without the seasons.  I am looking out my windows and, certainly not, but, yes definitely, shedding a few tears as I type this. The home I raised my small children to teens is being packed up and the hour draws closer when it will be empty of all my things.  I will stand in it, alone or with my people, and I will play the memories that are indelibly printed in my heart. Food and soul satisfying laughter in this dining room. Migrated and drawn out Midwest goodbyes in this entryway.  Crazed squirrels and chipmunks running through this family room. On this deck I manhandled our giant Christmas tree, in the freezing rain, and basically broke my tailbone. Countless hours spent in love, anger, prayer, and joy in this old, chintzy kitchen. (new one can't count.) Prayers, heart to heart chats, and questionable cleanings in these boy bedrooms. A history of love and guests in this bedroom.  Love made and shared, and plans and dreams and life celebrated with my soulmate in this bedroom. It will all be empty and I will feel the full weight of the end. I will drive away. I will be crying. And I probably won't come back. 

To be at the end is something I can't quite define. It's better to leave it to the imagination. All your emotion is juxtaposed with logic, rationale and a complex combination of past, present and future, with some sadness as the central theme. 

To be at the beginning is something we can easily define.  Chaos despite organization. Excitement and fear for the unknown that is near. Uncertainty. Myriad emotions, but generally, sadness is not a theme. 

I will be both at the end and the beginning in seven days. It is a road I am dreading to take. Walk with me, Friends, and I won't feel as lonely. I will be able to tell you how it hurts, how it makes me roll my eyes, and how it makes me laugh. You can tell me how you were at the end once and what helped. You can tell me about what made your eyes roll today, and together, we will find the laughter in all the experiences. 

Stay with me. 

Ground Zero - New York

Gentle Readers....

Many are worried about the start of school, COVID, the election. These things are barely on my radar. School will technically start next week for my children, for two point five weeks and then we will move to a hotel in the south of France. Errrr...I mean the middle of hot, dusty, windy, brown, Texas.  If it sounds like I was unimpressed with my new digs....it's because I was. I am.  But. I also did not like Utah in the slightest when I arrived; although, at least it had a beautiful mountain range to spice it up. 

Don't worry. I will settle in. I will. I always allow myself the full rights and privileges of one mourning and grieving and it always involves some disdain.  Texas did not win my heart in the four days I was there, nor did I expect that it would. The internet was enough to tell me that it would not fulfill my environmental desires.   

I am stuck in limbo, neither living nor dead.  My days are long, and wonderfully, then painfully, then wonderfully, boring.  Moving is like dying and if you don't agree, then you have never closely encountered either one.  There is an almost imperceptible line that is crossed as you near the end. Persons with a terminal illness, who have been preparing, cross that line. The living watch and mourn and inch by inch distance is created from within the circle. The person leaving is accepting, understanding, and emotionally detaching from the life that was lived. Persons leaving one life, moving, cross that same invisible line in the sand. 

I knew it was coming. I was preparing. I've been prepared; but, nonetheless, it is hitting me quite painfully.  I have removed myself from all my obligations and the life around me continues without me in it. There is a bubble created from within the circle. I look out the windows toward my now old life and give a melancholy wave.  My life has already said its beautiful goodbye and these things can really only be dragged out so long. 

Limbo. 

Painfully alone. 

Painfully uncertain. 

It was always coming. I told people and they did not believe. "Oh, we'll do stuff. We'll make plans. We have plenty of time. We will stay in touch."

I have done this enough to understand the process.   

The bubble has been created. The line has been crossed. 

And so I wait to wake up to my new life.

What will it look like? I can't be certain. But I think it is going to be harder than I imagined it would be. 

Help me, Jesus, help me write the next chapters well.