All I Need is a Cape and a Side-kick

I had one once.  A side-kick that is, I still have a cape or two.  We'll call her Marie.  I lost her before my divorce, which sucks because that's one super-hero kind of mission I could have used a side-kick like her for...

A few months ago a friend and I were talking about relationships and the process of letting people "in" to the deepest places of ourselves- exposing vulnerabilities, trusting completely.  As we were talking I realized that every now and then, you meet someone that you don't actually have to "let" in.  Somehow, there's an effortless connection that can't be explained.  There's understanding and knowledge that comes without experience.  I suppose this is where the term "soul mate" comes from.  Marie was that kind of side-kick to me, so you'll understand when I tell you that this story is the deepest, most troublesome one I have yet to tell.  In fact, I promised to never allow myself to lose someone like that again and just to be sure- I promised myself I wouldn't allow that kind of connection with anyone again either.  (Silly me, when I decided that- I had forgotten about the "I didn't let anyone in" part...)

I met Marie when I was 5.  She was younger- kind of a crybaby actually.  I didn't mind her in the beginning.  Then it turns out, she was ALWAYS around.  She really irritated me after awhile, but I still sorta cared about other people making her cry.  It annoyed me that she looked up to me so much.  I obviously didn't have stuff figured out and I felt a lot of pressure to not mess up in her eyes. Sometimes I would rescue her from her annoying (her words) little sister and take her to a fancy restaurant for dinner- especially for her birthday.  I taught her about cloth napkins, boys, annoying little sisters (I have two to draw on for intel), the importance of listening to her parents...

I moved away from that town the summer before she started high school.  Then her parents moved her family 3,000 miles away.  That was a rough year for her, so we talked a lot.  That's the year I met the guy I married.  She came back to be in my wedding.

Eventually, she moved back to Montana and lived with us to help nanny and to get a fresh start for herself.  Over the years we did everything together.  I was the cautious balance to her free spirited nature.  I left her in Montana when we moved to Alaska, but not a single day went by that we didn't talk.  Eventually, I'm not sure when, she stopped being younger than me.  She had life experience that I did not have.  She had insight into people because of her experiences.  She was deep, in many ways- wise, funny, fun, smart, incredibly generous, spontaneous, compassionate...

This story is the hardest to tell, because I don't understand it.  She's gone.  It makes no sense.  I cannot seem to completely process the grief.  It's different than any other.  It is the knife that turns every day in my heart.  Sometimes,with something as simple as a glance at the clock, I nearly drown in a wave of heartache.  I miss Marie.

All I can possibly get out of this story is this:  We all have choice, every day.  Sometimes we make the wrong choice.  Sometimes those choices destroy the people that love us. That is all.

The Nothing Season

"Pen sure" is the term the kids and I use when we do crosswords together.  Now the words have been criss-crossing my mind over the last two weeks regarding a couple of situations.  The best part about having a blog for me, is that it forces me to be "pen sure"!  (I'll pause while you thank the good Lord that I'm not writing EVERYTHING I think or feel....)

This morning, I'm pen sure, finally... As usual, before I write, there's a theme or a word that rolls around my head and heart. "Wait" continues to be the persistent nagging of the voice in my head.  I hate that word.  I'm not a "wait" kind of person.  Thankfully, this heart dialysis I'm undergoing is gentle and the concepts are persistently, lovingly, continuing to be presented until they change me!

The old me was a doer.  If someone, anyone, needed it: I did it, found it, gave it, chased it... If I needed it- well now, that's just weakness, so never mind...  I was not choosy about who I allowed in.  My motto was "the more the merrier" and I would have never asked for anything from anyone. (Yeah, I know, pride, pride, pride- I get it, now!)  As you can imagine, the emotional, spiritual, and physical nutrients were completely depleted from the soil of my being.


 So now, this process of restoration is well underway.

My writing, so far, has centered on the emotional and spiritual remodel.  In this blog I've shared very little about the physical aspects of my "undoing".  While the physical things I dealt with changed me forever in some ways, I have not written about it because, mostly, I'm feeling pretty whole again.  The processing of those things has already been done in my head, I think.  Maybe one day it'll come up, but not today.

So now, I've been trying to come up with a way to describe this "wait" sense I have internally.  The concept is applying to everything as I think and process and mull and rethink and over-think the experiences I have had both emotionally and spiritually in the last month.  I've struggled with "wait", not because I'm feeling impatient, or desperate, or lonely or needy or unhealthy- but because it's exactly the opposite!  I feel GREAT!  I'm settled, sure, peaceful, relaxed, happy.  I am starting to feel energy in just about every way again.  Isn't it time to use it? Shouldn't I be putting myself back in the game?  Coach says no.

A friend used the word "fallow" the other day.  It's too perfect!  This is it.  "Wait" makes sense with this word.

fal·low

adjective /ˈfalō/ 

(of farmland) Plowed and harrowed but left unsown for a season in order to restore its fertility as part of a crop rotation or to avoid surplus production


Inactive


(of a sow) Not pregnant

verb /ˈfalō/ 

         Leave (land) fallow
 
I chose to give you both the adjective and verb versions of the word since I recognize that with a verb, I actually have the choice!  I like a little control, let's be honest...

As I researched fallow I realized that this spring-headed-towards-summer season of my heart that I've been writing about, anticipating, participating in- is exactly when the Farmer would fallow me.  Cool.  My heart, which has never been at rest, is about to get more nutrients.  Oh, and I'm not a sow, but I'm not pregnant either, so I left that part there.  ;)

Tyler Jack

For being the short month, this February is the looooooooongest month EVER!  I'd like to give credit to the "mid-winter-grey-day doldrums", but really, if I'm honest, there's more going on in me that I haven't shared yet.


I woke up this morning with Tyler on my mind.  I don't think I dreamed about him, but his little life and the "what if's" are the constant background thoughts these days.   Maybe it's the leap year that makes the grief sharper this year than some of the others...


Tyler is not my son.  His mother was my closest friend through my junior high and high school days.  His father was a good friend and neighbor during those years too.

In 2000 both of us were due with our second child- in March.  We were roughly a week apart in our pregnancies. Every year, at this time, I start remembering the goofy, competitive, trash talking phone calls his dad and I shared back and forth as the final weeks slipped into the final days of pregnancy.  We were in a race to be first.  I'll never forget the night that he called around 10:00 to tell me that if I wanted to beat them, I'd better hurry- they were on the way to the hospital.  I laughed and said "let's race, I'm waiting until midnight so I don't get charged for another day."  He thought I was kidding, I think.  On February 28, 2000 (a leap year) at 4:30ish in the morning- Tyler Jack was born.  Two hours later at 6:34, Isaac James was born.  We were in different towns, but it didn't matter.  My closest friend and I were sharing the coolest day! 


A few weeks later they came to our house for a visit.  These boys needed to meet!  Then a couple of months later- a camping trip to Paradise Valley....


I will not forget that day in July.  The phone call was a blur.  The only words I remember are: "accident... we lost Ty... can you meet me there..." I know she also told me that her sister was clinging to life and had been life-flighted to Billings...  None of these words made sense.

The hours that followed were blurry too- with a few stand-out moments... the shopping trip to Target to get necessities - the clerk way too perky, offering a "it could've been worse" comment...  the family waiting for news on Ty's aunt in emergency surgery... saying goodbye to a tiny boy.  Even as I type the memory is excruciating- the tears hot, my heart sick.


Thank God for tears.  The washing of the soul, the expression of the in-expressible.


The following months were horrible.  I love my friend.  I could do nothing.  I love my children, I could not connect...

I spent months wrestling with whether or not to share pictures and milestones with my friend.  Would it kill her to hear that he got his first tooth?  That he started walking?  That he said his first words?  Did she really want to see what he looks like at 6 months, 9 months a year?  How about the first day of kindergarten?  This survivors guilt that I carry, even this year as I watch my little boy turn into a young man, sometimes I cannot file away.

I called Ty's mom this morning, before I even got out of bed.  I have found over the years that she needs to hear about Isaac.  She desperately needs to hear that her son has not been forgotten.  In some ways, we decided, the Leap Years are the hardest.  This year the boys are 12, the last "child" one.  Next time there will be a driver's license, perhaps a girlfriend... Then adulthood. 


So, this February, I will embrace this grief.  I will not hurry it away.  I will not ignore it.  I will live it naturally as it washes over me.  I will praise God for my friend.  I will praise Him for the experience of Ty.  I will praise Him for the tears.

Single Awareness Day

I'm not much of a Valentine's Day kind of girl, and that's not a bitter ex-wife statement.  My avoidance of the day goes as far back as elementary school and is much like my avoidance of New Year's resolutions.  I really don't like being expected to feel a certain way just because the calendar changes. (That, and I hated trying to creatively design a stupid box for those dumb mini cards every year.)

That being said, I can't say I have completely avoided the nonsense of the topic of love in my thoughts or discussions this year.  In fact, some of the conversations have been pretty priceless, as a friend and I wade through the emotions of her finding out her boyfriend has a fiance.  (Classy man, that one.)  If you can't find away to laugh at that, you just crawl in a hole and die- so we've laughed.  A lot.

I already told you that February is challenging for me in the area of love because separation, divorce and relationship-end anniversaries. Because most of these wounds are relatively fresh, and because I am working pretty hard on putting my mind, heart and soul back together the right way, it's, embarrassingly, inevitable that I girlied up and shed a few tears over the topic this last few weeks.

"They" say that when "it" happens you'll know.  I think my knower has always been broken.  Maybe it's a little like how you're supposed to know when you're in labor.  (Sorry guys, it's the only thing that comes to mind to use as an example.) If you've never had a baby before, EVERY pain/pressure feels like it could be "go time" during that last few weeks.  For me, most of them were uncomfortable, painful, time-able... not it.  The second time around, I knew.  It's not THAT kind of pain, it's a different kind.  Am I digressing here?  Okay, I think my point is made. I think I'm thinking too much and not going with my insticts, or something, but I'm done thinking about it...

So, I'm pretty sure I've loved.  I'm pretty sure someone's loved me.  I'm pretty certain it's never been the same thing at the same time with the same person, the right way...

As usual a song has been in my head for several days... I am convinced I should not be trusted, again, with the giving away of my own heart.  So, I will abandon it completely... for now... to the One who designed it, for someone who deserves it, because I'm learning that He can be trusted..

So what could I say?
And what could I do?
But offer this heart, Oh God
Completely to you...

I'll stand
With arms high and heart abandoned

...

My soul Lord to you surrendered
All I am is yours

<3<3<3

Oh, and I couldn't help but add this for my sweet friend:

Boys Are Gross, But I Love Five

I've been thinking.  (Yeah, weird huh?) This time, I'm thinking about the importance of brothers. Since October, I have spent time with four of the five of my brothers. This is highly unusual, considering they live in Virginia, Louisiana, Arizona, California, and Washington and I do not.  Now, with hindsight and all that jazz, I see that the timing of these visits, along with the deep conversations we had, was absolutely perfect.

Obviously, they're boys, so they're a little gross, BUT I love them to pieces.  All five are pretty amazing men in their own right.  They could not be more different from each other.  This fact is especially great for me, because I feel like I have the market cornered when it comes to figuring out the "ways of a man".  Each of them, whether they know it or not, have played a key role in my processing of this adventure I'm in, called life.

Here's why I love them:

C~ The only sibling older than me.  He is responsible, intelligent, reserved (shy?), thoughtful, mostly unemotional, slow to react, a studier of people, patient, practical, a peacemaker.  He chased off at least one- that I know of for sure, possibly two...- guys that intended to uh, "date" me.  I may have been irritated then, but MAN, I'm thankful now!

G~ 18 months younger than me.  He has the exact same sense of humor as me.  If there's only one person on the planet that "gets" me, it's this guy.  He wears his heart on his sleeve, he's strong, a lover, not a fighter, open, gentle, a talker, manly, emotional- but stable, thoughtful, generous.  Silence is never awkward between us.  He knows my messiness inside and out, I know his.  If I have a best, male, friend- it's him.

D~ A grade behind G in school.  Most people thought they were twins in their younger years.  Of the two D was not the talker.  He was the scrapper.  As an adult he's a little less feisty, but no less of a presence.  He's the tallest of the siblings.  He is intelligent, devoted, shy in a group, open in the one-on-one, hilarious, a tester of limits, thoughtful, gracious, respectful, a patient father, persistent.

J~ (Both sisters come between D and J.) He's a lot younger than me, so we are just beginning to get to know each other as adults.  J is extremely creative.  He has an eye for beauty, an ear for art and a natural ability to mix sights with sounds to create amazing things.  He is deep and intelligent... anything but status quo.  He's not afraid to go against the system, to challenge, to question.  He is private, protective, peaceful, honest, witty.  He is boldly, unashamedly, finding his own way.

B~ My "little b".  He was born when I was in high school, we shared a room for his first year of life. In a lot of ways, he's like a son to me.  (No, biologically, he's not my son.  I have been asked that, more than you'd guess.)  In his high school years, he lived with me for nearly three years.  I have a tender place for him in my heart that bubbles with a mix of sisterly pride an motherly love.  I attended his parent/teacher conferences, sporting events, concerts, school dances, Marine Corps graduation and soon, his wedding...  This guy, especially, is a role model for my two sons.  In fact, my oldest told me a few months ago: "Mom, if I can be the kind of teenager Uncle B was, I think I'll be okay."  I couldn't agree more.  B is driven, honest, self assured, generous, loving, gracious, a true listener, witty, personable, a people person, hard working, intelligent, mixes well with peers/youth/elderly, mature beyond his years, unafraid of living against the grain, if he lacks in talent- no matter, he has heart, he has integrity and character beyond his two decades of experience...

Guys, I'm blessed to have you.  Males are weird and confusing and sometimes dumb...  I will forever need you five to help me sort through it all and raise a couple of my own!

 

2004- The last time we were all together.

Freedom Has A Feeling

Vacation started for me three days ago.  About four hours before I had to be up to catch my flight, I received an email from an old "friend".  For the last few days, my mind has not completely slipped into vacation mode as I have thought about how I would respond, if I cared to...

The email was long and stuffed full of "loving" (his words) condemnation from a man who considers himself to be a follower of Christ.  The email was riddled with accusations, ignorance and arrogance, his words were intended to fearfully force me into humility, repentance, submission.... The list is fascinating, and goes on and on...  My initial response was shock and that familiar ole' friend, Discouragement.

Then I reread it and couldn't help but laugh!  I'm soooo thankful.  I cannot believe that in three short months, my mind and heart have been changed/healed so completely. This life I am discovering is what freedom feels like!!!  If I had gotten such an email in October, I think it would have completely devastated me.  Now, I actually am very grateful to have gotten a glimpse back into the prison I just came out of. What a contrast to the grace, mercy, love, forgiveness, and peace I found in Jesus, once I stopped looking to "His people" to tell me who He is and started asking Him, Himself.


So, I'm not going to waste my breath or your time with this guy's words, but I will share with you what I have learned in 90 days or so:

1.  I am not expected to clean myself up for God.  He does that, slowly, subtly, gracefully.  I don't desire to be "clean" naturally.  It's easier not to, let's be honest.  He chose me, reached out to me, pursued me, won me- all while I was in this messy, broken place. His work is being done as an undercurrent, behind the scenes.  I feel it.  It's not me.  I like it. 

2.  God does not expect me to do anything while withholding His love, until I complete the task.  His love is constant.  He wants what's best for me.  His best is not "back there" in my past, but up ahead- following His leading.

3. I am going to keep messing up.  That's the fact of the matter.  I will continue to desire to mess up less, probably, but I will keep being blind or stubborn or lazy or... human.  I will use this fact as motivation to NEVER, NEVER, EVER think of myself as God's little gate keeping, pit bull.  I will, however, keep an answer ready, for the hope I have in Him- if you should ask.

I have no idea how my friend can say "it is clear (I) have never..."  when we haven't even spoken in years.  That's okay.  I know what's clear.  I know where I stand.  I know who I am. I know where I'm going.