Messy Is Okay, I'm Okay, This Won't Last Forever

How are you feeling these days? Scared, exhausted, uncertain, a bit lost? Okay, perhaps a whole lot lost. Are you feeling out of control, or afraid of the future? Do you feel alone? Is it an alone, alone? As in no one cares? Or is it an okay alone? There are many kinds, you know.

I'll admit to feeling all of the above. The worries of the world feel ginormous right now. Rightly so. So the question is this, how and where do we find some comfort in the chaos?

Jump in with the answers, because I do not know for sure. My guess is, though, that we/I/you/me may find some comfort in the very small things that grace our lives. If we dig deep enough we can find the blessings, the grace, the poignant moments that bring tears to our eyes and confirm the best life has to offer. 

It may be be the gentle snoring of an old dog taking up most the space on the sofa. Snoring never sounded so good before. It may be that life has slowed us down to the point we are eating meals every day with our family. It may be that flowers seem to take on new beauty because everything else seems so dark in comparison. It may be the giggles of children playing. It may be leaving care packages on the porch of a friend. It may be asking every day what are the wins of your day, what are the worries. Then sharing them, because sharing increases the blessings and divides the burdens. 

It may be digging deeper into your faith, knowing, and remembering that God is holding you. It may be releasing the need to have it all together and embracing that life is messy, we are messy and that is completely okay. 

Maybe this is the key, messy is okay, I'm okay, God is holding me, this won't last forever. I, for one, forget that this (what ever this you are dealing with) is not forever. And...in the mean time, I am here for you. Because, life is made up of a multitude of things, messy things, brilliant things, sacred things, even scary things, that create the whole. When looking at the whole is overwhelming, look for the little things. There is grace in narrowing our focus. So I remind myself, again and again...messy is okay, I'm okay, God is holding me, this won't last forever. Trust me, it won't.

You are not alone.

Turmoil, uncertainty, fear, stress. Faith, patience, trust, blessings. 

What I've learned from the last 2 1/2 years of adjusting to life after trauma is this. Do the next right thing. It's not going to be easy some of the time. Other times it will be easier than you think.

You are not alone. Ever. If you are it's a personal choice. Personally, I'd say choose being connected. Even in this time of great disconnect for health reasons. Choose to reach out, choose to ask how someone is doing. Find the small wins, own the struggles, and share them both. 

I do not have all the answers, but I do have faith. I've cried way more than I've laughed recently, but I believe in laughter. I know it's part of who I am, and it will return as surely as flowers in the spring. 

I've made huge changes in my life recently. Dang, they have been hard. All of life is temporary I've learned. Temporarily fabulous, temporarily hard, temporarily funny, temporarily heartbreaking, temporarily heart warming. It is a mix of them all, each day offering a different view. Some views last longer than others. Find the grace in all of them. 

Count the blessings. Now, I'm not known for my mathematical ability, but my blessings far exceed my ability to count them. I'm not saying that because I suck at counting. I'm saying it because it's true.

It's the little things, really it is. Trust me on this one. We get lost in the big picture, frightened by it. Overwhelmed by it. Take a deep breath and embrace the little things. We'll get through this. Yes, we'll come out different. We'll have losses, but we'll have huge growth spurts too. Slow down. Find your faith, know you are loved. Know you are not alone. 

This Is For You

This is for you...the you barely getting by. The you, wondering when the tide will turn. The you, wondering where you lost your joy and when you will find it. The you who wonders if you will always feel battered and broken.

This is also for you, who got the good news you were waiting for. The you, who achieved that goal. The you, who found your way through the darkness into the light. The you, who was blessed beyond measure.

This is for the you in the middle of new adventures full of light and love. This is for the you in the middle of new adventures that feel tumultuous at best, and horrifying at worst. This is for the you celebrating milestones and living the dream. This is for the you that is finding joy in the moment.

This is for the you that is grieving. For those rebuilding the very foundation of their life, piece by piece. Praying that each of those pieces finally bring some peace.

This is for the very young you, and the very old you. The you that is learning, the you struggling to learn. This is for the you who is waiting. Patiently, or not so patiently in times of great uncertainty. This is for the you who is lonely, and trying to find some bit of contentment in that time alone.

This is for the you who laughs. The you who cries. The you who does both in succession.

This is for the you who's roots of faith run deep, and the you who is just setting down those roots. This is for the belief it takes in either of those situations.

This is for the you who is a mixed up, confused, combination of all the above. We are all the messed up, and the messenger, depending on the day or the situation.

All of this is you (and me), the awesome and the imperfect, the broken, the healing. It is both the gift and the grace. This is for you.

Hard Things, Great Grace

You learn way more from the hard things. I can't tell you how much I want to add that sentence. To refine it, to define it, to expand upon it, heck even to soften that reality. But truthfully...those eight words say it all.

Here is what I've learned. Loving deeply is what we are called to do. Loving deeply hurts some of the time. Life, and love, will bring times of loss. Loss changes the essence of us. Perhaps not a bad thing. But it's definitely an excruciating process. I wouldn't wish the tragic loss I've experienced on anyone. And...I will admit to envying those whose loss came in other ways.

A dear friend of mine told me recently that I suck at asking for help. I was not offended. I looked at myself, and said "self she'd be right". Asking for help taps into our vulnerability. Who wants to feel vulnerable? That's one of those feelings that makes us all squirm. So I've been pondering why I struggle with asking for help. Nothing feels safe after a tragic loss, so asking for anything feels like risky business. I/we try to stay the course, to not rock the boat, to get by, to make due. We want to keep things in "control" even when we know nothing is in control. Can you sense the irony there? Isolation, which I find to be one of the hardest things to deal with as a survivor of suicide loss, is not at all what the good Lord, and our friends want for us. They want us to lean in to their strength. They want to be there for us. They can be, if we let them.

Letting them in is the hard part. First there is that whole control/no control issue. Then we often don't know what we need. It is hard to let someone in to what we ourselves can't define or understand. Some are quick to judge, so we know we need to keep our distance. Stigma keeps others away. Some walk our path and challenge us to keep moving forward. Some even tell us what we suck at, in the most loving possible way. Some remind us (daily!) that we can do hard things. We can, we do, and we learn the most from them. Therein lies the grace.