Accept and Rest

I am the person who first looks for the grace, the positives, the possibilities. I am blessed by that approach to life. But, I am learning I need to acknowledge the realities of life as well.

I will push forward, long and hard. I will put one foot in front of the other, even when it hurts. I will ignore the pain and press on. Until, I can no longer do that. Then I need to accept and rest.

Lately I've been accepting, amid the tears, that life is so so hard. It takes a lot of acceptance to get there. Because, I love life, I believe in it, I embrace it and all it offers. For some time, and probably for a long time ahead I have to own how hard life is. Can I say it sucks? Can I say it's not fair? Can I say I'm tired of the pain of grief? I own this even in the midst of a thousand other blessings. 

It takes a strength I'm still building, and a faith I'm still growing. It takes tears I'm tired of holding in. Yet, in all the pain, the questions, the longing there is hope. For I know the sharp edge of this part of life will soften with time. If I can find this hope, I know you can to. 

So when the weight of life is heavy, accept and rest. When the road is all up hill, accept and rest. Accept the help that is available, and rest. When the tears come, let them and rest. When small acts of kindness ease your way, accept with joy and rest in that. When you don't know all the answers, accept and rest. Own it, accept it, release it. What feels like it will never end is part of the beginning. Call it growth, call it grace...own it, it's yours.

Mess And All

I had someone suggest, after watching an interview of someone who had lost two children to suicide, that they didn't emote enough. That they seemed numb. I'm trying to get my words to catch up with my thoughts when I encounter comments like this.

First of all, grief is not linear, it's intensely personal, it is never the same on any given day. There is a certain numbness to it that gets us through the first months, often longer. It protects us from the enormity of the shock. It somewhat contains how fractured we feel until we can process and feel again. Even then, when we get to that point, it's like walking in high water. A daily struggle. Even if/when we do have good days, the struggle is like an ever present shadow. 

Now, I try to extend grace when I hear comments like this, but I try to balance it with words to defend the grieving, or erase the stigma. Frankly, I shouldn't have to defend those grieving a suicide or any other loss. But I will when needed.

I would say I am mostly past the numbness, but not the dismay. Some days I feel better, some days I don't feel better at all. I push forward in spite of the fatigue, I try to find joy, my humor seeps out and my hope runs deep. 

Tread gently and judge not. We may know a person's story, or have no clue. Reach out in concern if need be. But don't decide we/they aren't feeling enough, showing it appropriately, or moving on. We don't move on, we move through and it's messy. It will always be messy. Accept us, bless us, love us, mess and all.

Gifts Worth Waiting For

Several month's ago a friend gave me a wrapped gift and the instructions to save it for a bad day. So long ago, in fact, I had to dust off the pretty wrapping paper. There is comfort in just having a box like that. Kind of like having a bell to ring if you need help. Just knowing you can get help makes all the difference.

I'm pretty good at holding it together, probably too good. Cover it with a huge dose of I can do this, followed by it's not so bad, and a butt load of positive self talk. Oh yes, and then stuff down those feelings for a while too. Not necessarily healthy but mostly productive.

Today, however, I owned that I needed to open that box. It was the perfect storm of emotions. Tears welled up and I finally said, yes tears, today I'll make time for you. Today it's hard, today it's frustrating, today it's overwhelming. Today I took my lunch to the truck and cried. Not saying I didn't eat my lunch and scarf down my dessert, but first I acknowledged how hard it is. It's hard financially and emotionally, it's hard to press forward. It's hard to find your footing. It's okay to say "today I am not okay". Today I need to pause and release some of the struggle.

It is a huge gift to ourselves to own our reality. To feel it and to wade through it. To mop up after it and go on. I am fairly certain I opened more than one gift today. For that I give thanks.

Trains and Automobiles

Years ago, when my coworker was out delivering flowers, she started sending me a picture whenever she had to wait for a train. In our part of the world it happens frequently. At first we laughed about it, but it helped me know about her drive time and whereabouts. In the world we live in feeling/being connected matters. Soon all of the delivery gals would send pic's. They would laugh sending them, I would laugh receiving them.

I've discovered what we did was touching, and loving in it's own way. I still receive train pictures from one coworker, even though we don't have the joy of working together any more. It makes us laugh, and it makes us pause for more than a train passing by.

We pause to honor, to remember, to feel warm fuzzies. We snicker because often there is a red car in front of her. The universe must like red cars. If there is a dog in the picture I award bonus points. Trains are big things, kinda symbolic of life. Life has big things, but it is the little things that touch us.

The roads of life don't necessarily lead us away from good things. More often they bring us closer. As close as a train, a red car, an old dog, and a good friend.