Shadows

Week 2 Day 6

I am not a quitter.  This is the reason you're reading this today.  I've lived a lifetime of thinking this week.  I'm hoping, as you may be too, to have a few lighter days ahead.  I won't say that these two weeks haven't been productive, however.

Our second snow of the season fell last night.  This could be the lasting kind.  It's not deep, but it's bitter cold.  Today is a gorgeous clear day, as are all of the coldest days during the winter in the North. As I write, the 111 year tradition of the Cat/Griz blood-bath is taking place at MSU in Bozeman.  The majority of those games have been won by U of M, so odds are Griz will be victorious again.  In fact, they're up in the third quarter right now.  The TVs, radios, internet and every corner bar or casino in the state are tuned in and inundated with the trash talk.  I love Montana.  I love Montanans.

My house is cozy today.  The kids are generally friendly, helpful, happy.  The pot roast I made yesterday has been turned into a stew and is simmering on the stove with a fresh loaf of french bread ready and waiting.  Things feel perfect.  Except...

Lurking beneath the surface of my mind there are shadows.  I left the house in the middle of third quarter, told the kids I have my "homework" to do, and drove.  I'm searching for a quite place to put these shadowy, restless thoughts on paper.  Driving through the deserted streets of my frozen neighborhood, I am amazed at how I'm noticing shadows everywhere.  The trees, power lines, cars, houses, dogs- all casting shadows across my path.

I make my way to Pioneer Park.  I notice the abandoned bleachers of Daylis Stadium.  There are still balloons, Helena Capital's colors, attached to a section.  Helena beat Billings West in the State AA Championship last night.  Funny how empty it seems now.  I drive past the tennis courts and park next to the Frisbee Golf course section of the park on 3rd.  There are footprints meandering all over the rolling hills.  Abandoned picnic tables and grills stand out against the snow.  A lone person, a mailman, is trudging through the snow on the sidewalk.  Here again, shadows layer themselves across the snow.

Last night after my Day 5 posting I felt like it should be "Friday" for me.  I shouldn't have homework on the weekend, right?  I started getting restless.  I know that this work to be done in my heart and head is not a 9-5 deal.  Now I really have the urge to flee.  "Shutdown Collene, you've been too open, too exposed.  Board up the windows, hibernate in your bed, fly South for the winter, rocket ship to the moon, take it all back.  RUN AWAY."  After what I just went through for 24 1/2 months, wasn't this just the most foolish thing I could have done?  I just KNOW more heartache is right around the corner and now look at me; I'm wider open, more unprotected than ever before.

I have amazing friends who have discernment as well as the ability to absolutely make me laugh- at myself! So, last night I was talked down from the ledge, reminded why I'm here, assured of the true narratives to replace the screwed up ones.  I'm not coming this far to turn and run.  I'm not quitting.  In terms of battle- There's no sitting on the battlefield.  My choices are wave the white flag or win the war and get home.  So, I'm fighting on.

As I'm looking at this park I'm flooded with memories.  "Blink Collene".  For some reason I'm getting watery. Right there is the place I sat with my mom and kids this summer at The Symphony in the Park.  I've been here 9 years and this was a first for me.  I'm thankful I just DID it, finally!  Over the hill my sister got married on the grass near the sidewalk a year ago.  That feels like a lifetime ago.  "Okay, tears are pressing in.  Blink faster." The playground.  I wonder how many hours I spent there?  They took down the merry-go-round and the metal ladder climby thing.  I took pictures of the kids in that every year, including the times we came down for a visit from Alaska.  Sometimes, with the other cousins. The wading pool.  My first pregnant picture of Isaac was taken in that pool, with baby Nathan on my hip.  There is the tree I sat under, exhausted, struggling inside, losing hope, pregnant again, watching the boys run.  Susan was living with me then.  She was fabulous, helping me with the boys.  Just west of that tree and the playground is the creek.  That thing is magnetic to little boys.  Ducks, sticks, frisbees, bare feet, leaves.  You name it, we either put it in, dug it out, or tried to catch it for hours!  On the other side of the park is where John took our pictures for last year's Christmas card.  (Don't expect one this year, by-the-way, I'm not on my game! I might try again next year...) The memories are flooding in now, these are just a few. 

Shadows and light.  Deep sadness mixed with bright hope, mixed with fear, mixed with nostalgia, mixed with exhaustion, mixed with joy.  All mixed with love. I am looking forward to the Son shining bright enough to cause these shadows to flee.