Mowing

I spend a lot of time mowing these days. I have some thoughts about that. Up until last summer I'd never used the riding mower. Oh, I was welcome to use the push mower any time, lol. But not the John Deere. I admit I was leery of it at first. I can honestly say JD and I are in a committed relationship.

Here is what I've learned, I rather like mowing. For 2+ hours a week I have life under control. My edges are clean from trimming. The yard is neat and lovely. It looks picture perfect. I accomplished that neat and tidy, that picture perfect. I take comfort in that small period where I've got it all.

Most the time, I/we/you/me haven't got squat under control. I don't know about you, but I guess, you also find life both blessed and chaotic at the same time. Both, full to the top and empty beyond belief. Sometimes simultaneously. It's not what I expected, not what I ever dreamed, and yet full of grace. 

I like the neat and tidy, the under control part. Those of us growing and healing know it's messy, and gut wrenching. We're not sure how we'll come out on the other side. We know the healing will be a life long process. We worry the loneliness will never end. We push hard just to keep up our momentum. And, we long for the comfort of rest. We dream of path's less rocky and exhausting. 

So if my two+ hours of mowing gives me a semblance of normalcy, I'll call it a win. At least temporarily I need the bliss of the idyllic. I wish you the same, respite in the pain of progress, and peace during times of growth. If mowing does that for you, you're in good company.

Life Is Hard, Say The Words

Life is hard, although most of us keep that to ourselves. We tend not to say, I'm hurting, I'm struggling, I'm lost, I'm worried. We put on our game face and tend to the business of life. We rarely say....I am a survivor of suicide, part of every day is hard. Or, I'm a cancer survivor, I'm thrilled to be "cured" but I am forever changed and struggle to define the new me. Or, I lost a child to miscarriage. Part of my heart will always be broken. There are things we don't say, things we need to say, and things we are afraid to say. Granted, not everyone needs to know our whole story. But, some do, and we need to find the words to share it. Someone needs to hear it, to ease their burdens. To end the isolation.

I've shared before that I have never felt as invisible as I do now. People didn't know what to say immediately after Gordon died, and even with the passage of time, they still don't. It's like there are safe subjects and few veer off that path. Work is a safe subject, the dogs are, my kids are. How are you is still a trick question. Even when I give a safe lead in, few march willingly into my life reality. God bless those who do. Not so much with how are you, but with how was this for you? How is life looking for you today. Or simply, what kind of day is it today? Even days filled with absolute joy, such as my daughters recent wedding, held a flip side with sorrow weighing heavy on the heart. We can, and do, feel both complete joy and pain at the same time.

I think I need a t-shirt that says, I'm Not The Same Person I Was - Love Me Anyway. Or one that says, It's Okay To Say The Words. We are more than those words, and there is no shame in sharing it. We are strong, not by choice, but by the lack of other options. And, we can strengthen others by telling our story.