Why Did I Doubt?

Something incredible happened last week.  I've spent the weekend mulling it over, trying to figure out how much of it to document on the world-wide-web and how much of it to keep to myself.  Although, I'm finding it extremely encouraging to re-read my thoughts from last fall/winter (I so quickly forget how far I've come and how "themed" this process of healing is...), there are certain things not worth telling EVERYONE...

It was another one of those turned-a-corner moments that I was not in charge of.  Actually, the moment, like any life-changing moment, peaked after a few days of build up.  Here's what happened:

I spent the last two weeks, working less and playing more... I danced.  A lot!  It started with the Blues Festival concerts- most notably my first celebrity crush, Chris Isaak.  Yes, he's still hot.  Really, what's not to love about a sequined blue suit and a fantastic sense of humor?

Next, I invited myself to the state fair with a friend, and drug along a few others with us.  Another concert,Billy Currington- yes delightful to look at, fantastic songs and good company (but he's no Chris Isaak...), a few fair rides, too much fair food...

Also in the last week, there was a nice dinner with a good friend and her husband, a baseball game, late night patio chats, a weeknight street dance accompanied by one of my favorite local bands, late-night breakfast and apple pie ala mode with friends, a rodeo, more fair wanderings, karaoke (not me), long walks in the dark, more new friends, deep conversations over rounds of lemon water and a baseball game with strangers.  Oh, and laughter, lots of laughter. 

Did I mention a few tears? Yeah, there's usually that.  Deep conversations tend to bring about those unresolved things in my heart...  I should also mention, there were a few dysfunctional aspects of the weeks' events.  I'm so sick of me sometimes!  I can't believe I still even have friends...

So, Wednesday night and Thursday morning I was again thinking about the three "R" words that have been flickering all year:

Repentance, Redemption, Restoration

I've been SO selfish as it pertains to my actions.  Although I know for a fact that I've changed my mind about what I want for myself and how I want my life to look, I had never considered how my decisions impacted people around me at the deepest, internal, level.   Although I would never intentionally hurt someone in ways that I can see, It didn't even cross my mind that I could hurt someone in ways no one can see... I've thought for hours about what Redemption and Restoration would look like for ME as a result of Repentance, but did I cause a delay in the process for someone else?

Suddenly it made sense.   As the specifics started fitting together in my memory like a puzzle, I was overwhelmed with grief.  I had made decisions, went against my conscience, in the face of that still-small-voice warning... In fact, I remember thinking "whatever, I'll deal with the consequences, I want this..."  In hindsight, I see that the still-small-voice was more about protecting the other guy than it was me.  I trampled all over it, quenched it and rebelled against it, selfishly.

What can a "please forgive me" text accomplish?  Nothing, probably, but I sent it.  I spent the rest of the day Thursday and all day Friday praying for the friend I hurt. 

Friday just happened to be the day I was supposed to attend another concert with a couple of friends.  Tenth Avenue North is the band.  I'm actually smiling a little as I think about the "me" that I was, this time last year... I wouldn't have been caught dead at a church concert.  Although for my whole life prior to the last two years, I had participated in every church event known to man, I had come to the realization that very few churchy people were gracious or merciful and I've had my fill of that kind of hurt...  But recently, a song or two by this group has found it's way into my heart.  I was actually excited to have the opportunity to go.

As I was praying for my friend Friday, I also prayed that my heavy, grieving heart could find encouragement at the concert.  Then I, internally, rolled my eyes.  It's just a bunch of musicians, showing off their talent, right?

Okay, so my friends and I had front row seats. The first two groups were good.  I hadn't heard of them, but it's easy to have fun in the front row.  Then T.A.N took the stage. The first several songs were good, familiar even, upbeat.  As they were getting ready to start the next song, the lead singer stopped.  He turned to the band and said "I don't think we're supposed to do that song yet.  I really feel strongly that we need to play one of the new (unreleased) ballads.  I can't shake the feeling that God wants us to do that song for someone in here tonight. Maybe I'm crazy, I've NEVER changed the set like this before..."

The band scrambled to figure out what he was doing, then played this song:

Worn
...

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn

I want to know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that's dead inside can be reborn
Cause I'm worn

...
(The album The Struggle was released today, I might add...oh, and the cover is a bit apropos for me, check it out...)


I sat.  That man has read my journal?  The lyrics continued, some of them nearly word for word, quoting my blue tattered journal.  HOW could they know?  This is my gift, I'm convinced.  Of all of my memories from the summer, the last week, THIS is the defining moment.  The lump in my chest that has sat there since Wednesday night, dissolved, released by tears of thankfulness. 

I stayed after the concert, and met the guys. I thanked the lead singer for his obedience, then explained briefly, that my journal was supposed to be private...

If there was doubt, and there was, I know this: God is personal.  He deals with me, individually.  He loves me; I am convinced. He loves that friend of mine too, I have no doubt.  He will redeem, restore, rebuild, remake.

Okay, there's just a few more lyrics from another T.A.N song, that has been roaming my head since Friday:

You are more than the choices that you've made,
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes,
You are more than the problems you create,

You've been remade...

("You Are More" from The Light Meets the Dark album)

 Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him.  

“You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” Matthew 14:31

Do I Hear A Wedding March Or A Dirge?

Oh, hey, just a little disclaimer here before I say my piece:

You might actually know a few of the people I reference in this blog.  It should be said: I will never intentionally be disrespectful, but I do intend to be candid.  Mostly I expect to reveal my own ridiculous naivete.  Also, names might be changed to protect the innocent... or because I don't remember what they actually were... or because I like the one I picked better than the one their parents picked. It's okay, breathe, I'm not talking about you.  ...But I might be, but probably not...

Let's have some fun, shall we?

Earlier this summer, my fake big sister asked me to meet one of her friends for lunch.  For tonight's purposes I'm going to call the friend Gillian, mostly because I think it's close enough (I don't really know her well, so it could actually be her name.) and also because it's a cool name.  Anyway, Gillian is the soon-to-be mother-of-the-bride.  Her daughter is young, 19 or 20, I think.  Gillian is excited for her daughter and likes the guy, but as a mom, she's got a few concerns.  Since I was only a solid month plus few days into my 20th year on the planet when I got married, she thought maybe I'd have some insight.  I'm not sure I've ever been accused of being insightful, but I DO have a mental list of "Shoulda-Coulda-Woulda" questions that the average never-been-married person should be asking themselves or their fiance...

Lunch was fun that day. Gillian is an awesome mom and that couple will probably be fine.  Or not.  I can't say, we haven't met and I'm (obviously) not an expert.  She did, however, encourage me to write my thoughts down.  I didn't, but these kinds of conversations keep happening recently, so I've been keeping a little collection of stories locked away for my "someday" blog.  Tonight will be Someday Blog Part One, since I've got lots of curiosity and a few people I've got questions for.  I'm guessing I'll be getting back to this topic again later...

Figuring Out What Works


This spring I spent some time with the first guy who asked me to marry him.  That day I said yes, but our parents said an emphatic "NO".   He really was my first best friend.  We were four and, oh yeah, he's my cousin.  We can call him Tom.  Nope, it's not his name, but we're changing names here.  I do like the name his parents gave him, but Tom is cool too...

Obviously as four year olds, we had no idea that physical stuff would come in to play later in life or that the law protected us from such tomfoolery (um, actually this pun was not intended. I named my cousin Tom at the end of writing, directly before publishing this.  I'm purely, accidentally, genius here...).  Quite honestly at this point in life it's easy to see that the physical stuff is not too hard to figure out and would probably work out just fine with almost anyone, given enough, um, dedication...

Our friendship, the understanding of each other, our similar and complimentary personalities as well as the same sense of humor and complete trust in each other, were actually the perfect blueprint of what should've been...

I met Tom's wife for the first time, on that same visit this spring.  She is awesome!  I'm calling her Renee.  It may or may not be legit.  I'll never tell...

We immediately connected and were right away finishing thoughts for each other.  It was easy to see why he married her, but I wanted to hear him tell me why.   There is something so sweet about hearing a man in love say why, am I right ladies?!  He started off by telling me how they met and what attracted him to her.  She had a daughter already, so naturally I needed to know how that played into his confidence level in the beginning... (He's an amazing father to her by-the-way.)  Eventually he boiled it all down for me: "Collene, I married Renee because I always got bored with the women before her.  She keeps me on my toes. She challenges my thinking.  She doesn't put up with my crap.  She makes me a better man.  She loves me, encourages me, supports me, gets me.  I could never have made it work with anyone else." 

I love this.  A man that knows not only what he wants, but what he needs.  Seven years in and they still make me throw up a little in my mouth; in a good way.  I'm happy to know (albeit the hard way) what my weaknesses and strengths are in relationships.  Whether you're 19 or 59 I'm pretty sure that's extremely important.

How Well Do You Fight

This was one of our biggest flaws.  We never fought before we were married.  Ever.  In fact, I was pretty proud of that during our pre-marital "counseling". (Which was a total joke, by-the-way.  No disrespect intended, because I'm sure, We'll-Call-Him-Smitty, meant well...)  We skimmed the Conflict chapter and went on to skim through other things and camped forever on the Sex chapter.  (I know far too much about Smitty's sex life, and now you can join me in that uncomfortable thought.)  Unfortunately, friction is a reality of life.  If you don't ever disagree with the person you spend the most of your time with, someone's not being honest.

On the other hand, I have a couple of people in my little circle of confidants who found themselves in aggressive relationships.  At least one, or both, parties did not have the maturity or self control to hush up and hear the other person out.  Pride got in the way, then stuff got nasty.

Figuring out whether you're a walk away and cool down person, or a stick together until it's resolved person is as vital as knowing how your guy/gal deals.

Are You Settling

Can you see yourself with anyone else on the planet?  If he showed up at your wedding could it ruin the day?  If so, thennnnnnnnnnnn, maybe you should figure out why.  Forever is freakin.... well, FOR-EVVVVV-ER.

I would not have seen myself as "settling" at all, but in hindsight I essentially was.  I had a cerebral understanding of what I was supposed to want:  Hard working, moral, family values, a churchy kind of guy (always a safe bet, right?), blue eyes and a mom that liked me- I kid you not, this was actually on my list of must-haves.  Check, check, check, check, check- gorgeous eyes actually, um, check?  Life is funny, and some things you cannot prepare for, but this isn't a mother-in-law blog. Maybe I'll save that story for another day.

Were we IN love?  Well Hollywood is stupid and no one believes in that stuff right?  Butterflies in your tummy at the beginning of a relationship isn't enough to classify you as "in love", you should know.  I get butterflies when I hear Christmas music or think about taking a nap.   Being IN love is a stupid, conjured up emotional bit of nonsense, right?  Love is a decision and an action.  Period. 

I was half right.

What I learned was that the looks-good-on-paper relationship, the safe choice, what everyone expects for you, is nonsense.  Without the indefinable aspect of a relationship- the spark, the current of real connection, mutual respect, the sense of protection and prize, the unspoken understanding and commitment blended with the choice and action part of love- marriage is lonely and harder than necessary.  Those kind of relationships seem rare now, because in my opinion, people are not patient to wait for it or are quick to discount it because of fear, family pressure or societal pressure.  But, what do I know?

Is Someone Pregnant

Who cares?  Then grow up and parent someone, don't do anyone any favors.  Seriously, don't.

That brings me to my final point of the evening...

Do You Really Just Want Life To Start

It seems like a silly thing to admit to you now, but I guess it's not rare and it takes one to know one.  I'm astounded at the conversations I'm having again/still with this theme.

It's a common way of thinking with the 19-25 age group.  Whether you realize it or not, your parents/teachers/friends talk about your goals: college, career, family.  For me, I went to school, got my career and started a family.  Almost on autopilot.  It made sense.  I think I was looking for a good candidate to fill the open position.  I read a few resumes and hired the best one for the job.  Seriously.

Now that I'm 30 something, portions of my peer group are mildly freaking out as they're finding themselves approaching 40.  That seems like a big number, especially if you've never been married and don't have kids.  I've talked to more than one person this summer that got engaged because "it seemed like the logical next step."  Well, that's romantic.  Apparently, even guys feel their "biological clock" ticking.  Who knew?  I guess I can understand the loneliness of looking around at all of your friends, their kids and marriages, and feeling like you missed the boat.  Please do yourself a favor and wait.  Wait.  Wait.  It's going to be worth it, I'm convinced.  The alternative is messy and painful and hard on everyone.  Your mother CAN wait to be a grandma, trust me.

Okie Doke.  I have interviews to conduct.  This talk is sooooooo not over.

Photo from a wedding I attended this summer.

The bride and groom were awesome, it was not a dirge.

They are young, but have it all going on- A forever kind of couple.

Colliding With The Healer

Breathe
Sometimes I feel it’s all that I can do
Pain so deep that I can hardly move
Just keep my eyes completely fixed on You
Lord take hold and pull me through

So here I am
What’s left of me
Where glory meets my suffering

I’m alive
Even though a part of me has died
You take my heart and breathe it back to life
I’ve fallen into your arms open wide
When the hurt and the healer collide

Yep, that sums it up.  I'm not sure I can move, but the clock ticks, the day beckons.  Suffering can wait.  This song (The Hurt and the Healer) by Mercy Me was the alarm's soundtrack that started my day.  In spite of it all it turned out to be a fairly decent day, but that's because I'm a runner...

I'm not sure why I insist on doing everything the hard way, but tonight, here I am again.  The kids are having sleep-overs, my friends are busy, my phone is nearly dead... (I've mentioned that solitude isn't my strength, right?)  As long have I have an ounce of energy in me, and there's something uncomfortable or painful to address in the depths of me, I have the tendency to evade, run, distract, invest in anything or anyone but that topic. Finally, at the end of a grueling week, I've exhausted myself to the point of the inability to run away from myself mentally.  As usual, I can't sleep.  I'll write.

Wednesday sucked.  No, you don't understand, it SUCKED.  The night before was full of dreams again.  Not just dreams, but the kind that I can't escape.  The informative kind, I guess.  I went to work a little "off".  (Those of you who are reading this that also sat in my chair yesterday, you are incredibly gracious, I love you beyond explanation.)

The Crucible Summer is grinding on.  Brutal decisions to be made with no good choices and the consequences falling only to me, nagging health concerns, excruciating personal losses, incredible physical demands, clients to fire, "friends" I can't trust anymore,  parenting pressure, people I love with even greater needs than  mine, perfectionism left unchecked, spiritual and emotional frustrations, questions with no satisfying answers...  I want my bed.  Actually no, there's no air conditioning, therefore no sleep, besides, I'm starting to dread the randomly specific dreams... I want a coma.  Wait, aren't those expensive?

I got to work early and planned to fortify my emotions by busying myself.  My day wasn't going to end officially for 10 more hours and I needed to pull Professional Collene up by the boot straps.  Unfortunately  for Professional Collene (although, I really am very fortunate to have her), I was sweetly greeted with a hug by one of my co-workers.  Great, now we're going to need a mop to sop up the tears and possibly a spatula to re-Spackle my make-up back on.  I did not wear the water-proof mascara and I was not yet steeled enough for a hug.  I am no longer Professional Collene.

The day started sorta on time, although less glamorously than I had hoped.  Somehow by the second client, I was already 20 minutes behind,  Then the third arrived a half hour late.  Ummmmmmm, that actually almost works now though, if I skip lunch she can process while I do #4...  I could still get out of here by 8:00.  Will Wednesday ever end?

Meanwhile, I had broken my resolve.  I sent a text.  Okay, more than one... The dreams and restlessness were too real.  The recipient of the texts responded, confirming one of the dreams.  Weird, I know.  This is starting to be a pattern with that specific friend.  Our friendship has always had a connection unlike any I've ever known.  Still, I can't seem to communicate everything I feel I need to.  What's the point?  That friend is not a part of my life anymore.  Doesn't want to be again.  My words would mean nothing at this point and probably drive a wedge between us further.  Why does this strange connection persist?

My exhaustion, fear, sadness, pressures of the day and life sat heavily on my shoulders as I escaped work, (miraculously on time, I should add) and fled to one of my favorite places after work.  One of most trusted friends, my fake sister-in-law, joined me on the patio.  We guzzled iced tea in silence for awhile.  My tears streaming, her heart catching each tear as she waited for me to talk.  What I love about her is that she is a digger.  She is not afraid to go deeper than the words I'm saying and expose the heart of why I'm saying them.  This is important because we tend to be our own worst enemies when it comes to truth...

Why is my heart broken?  No really WHY?  What is it that I'm hanging on to that won't heal? If God is real and his words are true then The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit (Psalms 34:18) and He heals the brokenhearted and  binds up their wounds (Psalm 147:3), are not cute little bookmark phrases.

Again, her probing questions reveal an area of  distrust still in me.  Is God good?  Yes, always, duh.  He may have forgotten me though.  Does God hear our prayers and promise to give us the desires of our heart when we seek Him and ask? Yes, I can show you a million examples in scripture and life- your life that is, not mine. Does God love you?  Yes, in the way a parent lovingly cares for the neighbor girl that attends a sleep-over with their daughter all weekend... but then I'll have to pack up my pillow and leave, I'm sure of it...

We sat there until after dark hashing through example after example of God's loving, faithfulness to me in the last year, six months, 1 month.  Okay, now I see... but there is still an area or two where healing hasn't begun.  Somehow the project seems bigger than all the others, more impossible to reach into, even by God.

Here's what I know:  1. I can't heal myself.  2.  He says he can.  I guess I only have a plan A here because the only thing left in my mind to say tonight is this:  He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it...

Goodnight.

Our view from the patio Wednesday night.

 

The Crucible

The 2012 NFL preseason kicked off tonight.  What a relief!  Fall is coming.  As a cherry on top of that tidbit of information, the Saints beat the Cardinals.  Well, whatever, they're not MY team, just the better of the two, in this girl's opinion...

I guess I'm not writing tonight to talk about football, but this is a seasonal change I'm not afraid of and my mind is weird... somehow I managed to make a strong connection between the NFL, thanksgiving, beauty, trees, trust, restoration and giving.

Let me try to hoist you up onto this moving train of thought I'm conductor and engineer of:

Call it what you want, the summer of 2012 has been intense.  The Fallow Season, The Season of Darkness, The Season of Crossroads, The Drought Season.  My fake big sister is referring to it as my Crucible Summer.  She's (as usual) perfectly accurate:

cru·ci·ble  (krs-bl)n.

1. A vessel made of a refractory substance such as graphite or porcelain, used for melting and calcining materials at high temperatures.

2. A severe test, as of patience or belief; a trial.

3. A place, time, or situation characterized by the confluence of powerful intellectual, social, economic, or political forces.

I should note that the "crucible-ed-ness" of the summer is not anything like the "destruction-for-the-sake of-restoration" season I had come out of prior to beginning this blog.  Rather, the Crucible Summer, in hindsight, is shaping up to look more like an End-of-the-Quarter Test in each of the classes of Trust, Faith, Hope and Love.

That being said, let me get back to this train of thought we're trying to catch:
  
Thanksgiving:

Although I'm not blogging much this summer, I'm still scribbling in my tattered blue journal.  Actually, I filled that and started to tatter a red one, but I digress... I've poured my heart out and relentlessly presented my requests to God.  Quite honestly, I've been convinced that I live in a soundproof, padded cell.  I still ask, seek, knock, trust, without comfort or understanding for days sometimes.  I've had no choice.  I can't go back to Egypt, yet I haven't arrived at my Promise Land...

So, I needed a shift in focus- a change of season.  I'm sick of me. Sick of the fears.  Sick of the mourning in me.  Sick of restlessness and despairing thoughts.  I begged God to give me a new focus...  He did.  This time "Thanksgiving" has been the flickering word and with it this set of verses:

1 Thessalonians 5:14-22

And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all.  See that no one repays anyone evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone.  Rejoice always, pray without ceasing,  give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.  Do not quench the Spirit.  Do not despise prophecies,  but test everything; hold fast what is good.  Abstain from every form of evil.

Beauty:

This summer is hot and extremely dry.  A little over a month ago most of the Western United States was, seemingly, burning down.  Montana was no different.  Between June 26th and June 29th, 73 homes and countless livestock and out-buildings were consumed by a wildfire, locally. 


Those numbers mean very little until they're personal.  They became, quickly, very personal yesterday.  I was given the opportunity to work side by side with one of these homeowners.   As I stood, knee deep, in the ashes of all that remained of my friend's lifetime of memories, I was nothing short of overwhelmed.  

We spent the day sorting, sifting, stacking, digging.  Most of the time I busied myself with identifying which of the pipes, wires and chunks of metal I found were copper, steel, or aluminum... and hoisting them out of the basement pit.  From there they were piled in their appropriate piles for recycling.  

Occasionally,  I could identify something recognizable:  A Kitchen Aid bowl, a stack of mostly shattered coffee cups, a melted sewing machine, a bicycle- steel of course, the aluminum one was completely incinerated...  There were melted clumps of gold, formerly a pair of her special earrings, she thinks...  one of her husband's hammers, well, the steel head of it...  

Now and then, I would glance at my friend.  Strong.  Tall.  Tired.  Hurting inside and out.  She's been sorting, sifting, tossing, digging for a month and there's still so much to do before they can bulldoze the foundation and begin to rebuild. 


A verse-turned-song kept crossing my mind, soothing my heart, escaping my lips... I sang quietly while we worked.  "He gives beauty for ashes, strength for fear, gladness for mourning, peace for despair.  He gives peace for despair."

Later we sat around, sipping iced tea, serenading the men with a variety of songs, (sung in rounds, I might add) as they dug a trench.  Our little quartet does not have beautiful voices; we will not be touring soon.  We couldn't stop laughing...  

Life is really so sweet, even covered in ashes.


Trees, Trust, Restoration, Giving

This morning I was thinking about this blog and its title "Seasonal Allergy".  Originally I named it that based on my fear of the changing seasons of my life.  A million years ago I heard a lady talk about seasons of the tree referenced in  Jeremiah 17:7-8:

 “But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream.  It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.”

On that day, I knew I wasn't that tree.  I feared the drought.  Tonight, I don't like the Drought Season, but I trust and I continue to sense restoration.  I am encouraged to finally be strong enough to be the encourager of friends and a giver of myself again.

" ...patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

Against such things there is no law."

 How the paper survived, but the earrings and bike melted, I'll never understand.

 The Barracuda my friend used to drag race.

With three of the most beautiful ash covered ladies I've ever known.