Giving

There is Thanks and there is Giving, but there can't be one without the other. So on this Thanksgiving I have some thoughts to share. Hopefully it will be gravy for your potatoes, or whip cream for your pie. At the very least may you find something savory in it.

In all honesty when my kids suggested they cook dinner this year I had a melt down. I love that they offered, even more, I love that they understood my deep need for a sense of ritual. Basically a need to cook a bird in my own home. A need for normalcy, for tradition. It's been a year of loses, hardships for all of us and grief. After all that you'd think it wouldn't matter who cooked the bird.  But it does.

We need to give of ourselves more than we need to get for our self. It's the giving in Thanksgiving.  I'm learning that the hardships in life soften us in ways one never expects. I'd liked to have skipped that lesson, but then I wouldn't have had to grow.

This is what I wish today and always. May your path be smooth. May your heart be light, may your dinner include dessert. May you understand the need to give, and the grace of receiving. May you feel the love, in spite of the tears. May you take time to rest and to heal. Know you are not alone, and cook when you need to. It helps. 

What I Know

What I know about grief, or life, or love, or even faith....is that it knows no timetable.  It's complicated. Some days it just hits you. It brings new meaning to you. It brings tears. Sometimes it brings relief.

I think about life in segments, before marriage, before kids, before divorce, after remarriage, after Gordon. I think, therefore I am. I say this because it's true, but also to prove I was listening one day (not everyday) in college philosophy.  Let's take that further. I laugh, therefore I am. I learn, therefore I am. I cry, therefore I am. I believe, therefore I am. The important part is I am. 

I am. While I am relearning who I am, I believe I will be more than what I was before. I'll still be a crazy dog lady, I'll still be a hugger, and have the burning desire to feed anyone who enters my home. I'll still have one eye on Pinterest and the other on Facebook, and the two eyes behind my head on my kids. Well, maybe. They are adults now and don't need me that way. I'll feel deeper, and perhaps weep easier. If that's possible. My faith will be more sound.

I know I am responsible for my choices, my attitude, my faith. If I'm lacking something I have the inner strength to find it. If I lack strength, I have the power of prayer.

What I know is there are gifts to be found in every life situation. Yes, even in sorrow. Open those gifts, embrace them, gather your faith and grow.

No words.

There are times in life that there are no words.  I never understood that concept, until now. Now I get it. Sometimes you just can't wrap your head around life.  It's ok, I think that protects you. No words explain the sorrow. No words express the shock. No words express the new reality.

In that I have no words, I have to say for the many that ask, yes, I'm okay. We're ok. As okay as our new normal allows. It's a process. And I'll be blunt. I never imagined I'd confront the suicide of a dear one. I never could have imagined the journey that led to that day, those choices. My mind is boggled, battered by it. I feel beaten, but not defeated. I don't feel, but I know it's coming. I'm alone, but not lonely, and certainly surrounded by love. I have not lost my faith, my gratitude or my sense of humor. I'm pretty sure I've gained as much as I've lost.  It's just not completely evident yet. It doesn't have to be. Grief is a process. Growth is a process. Gratitude is a life choice.

If I could offer words of encouragement to those struggling it would be this. Help is always available. There is no shame in asking. Most of us have faltered, it is a part of life. Ask the hard questions, listen gently.

Know that your words, your support and your kindnesses smooth the path I am on.  No words could adequately express my gratitude. No words.

Significant.....

Significant birthdays, significant others, significant changes...our hearts are touched by significance.  

I remember approaching 40.  A significant birthday by any standards. Dang, to be so young again. I was coming out of a period of great heartbreak and, you got it, significant growth. One seems to precede the other. That's as it should be.  Everyone has heartbreak, it comes in a multitude of shapes and sizes. They are a gift of sorts. Some heartbreaks are clearly visible, some are carefully hidden from public viewing. Some we only share with close friends, some are shared with the world without our permission. 

This comes to mind as I am in a period of growth, and recently had, an almost significant birthday. Frankly, I like the insignificant birthdays better. Growth is painful, for the most part. It can't be avoided, and is best served with a side of grace and gratitude.  It is awash with questions of inadequacy, remorse and reflection. I know I'm in good company as I share this.  

We do the best we can. Some will only see small pieces of the puzzle and judge accordingly.  Some, those closest to our hearts, know the whole story and love accordingly.  Growth is a process of holding on and letting go.  Of inhaling and exhaling, of embracing the significant, and relinquishing the insignificant.  It is a critical part of our survival.  It softens us even as it strengthens us. We come out better on the other side.  That I can promise you.  So trust the process, trust the Provider and in the meantime....embrace the journey. Therein lies the significance.

Heart of the Matter Friends

Some friends just touch your heart. In one short sentence you can share (and feel) all your pain, all your joy, all your worry and they get it. All the control we think we have, slips away and the feelings wash over you. Intense feelings, overwhelming feelings. They are a safe place to be, and a great place to be heard.

They can be a friend you talk to weekly, text with daily, visit regularly, they could be your spouse, your parent, your child. They can be someone you see, if you're lucky, only once or twice a year. I call them "heart of the matter friends". All other pretense is stripped away, and you get right to the heart of the matter.

It is my hope that I can be that friend to others. Even just one or two, would be enough to return the favor.  Because we all need some balm for the soul. Someone who understands. Someone who celebrates our victories while we can only see our failures.  They see the light, while we see the tunnel.  

I have several friends like this. Call me blessed. One I barely know, but twice I've had a meltdown in her place of business.  The first time it was rather embarrassing, as she was a complete stranger.  Angels are only strangers until you meet them though. Today again I walked in, not knowing how much I needed her.  She propped me up, fed me a cookie, gave me high fives for crossing big hurdles, understood me and sent me back into my life again.  

There are times we need to get to the heart of the matter, and that's what friends are for.

God On The Gravel Roads

There is home, there is work, and there is in between. At either end my mind is occupied with business, and busyness. At either place I am strong and hold it together. In between is where I am neither strong, nor together. There on the gravel roads I speak with God. It's there I weep over hurts and worry over challenges. I marvel at the beauty and I wonder over the majesty. And, there, I let go a little.

If you are like me, letting go is a herculean task. Most times it doesn't feel safe to let go.  Oh, I know I should.  Don't get me wrong.  I know, and still I struggle with it.  Letting go means trusting something else is in the works.  Letting go is believing. Letting go is opening up, looking up and sometimes giving up.

Even thoughts in our head's are hard to let go. I've been working on changing that.  I tap myself on the forehead and say, nope, let's switch over to the positive.  I love that I always answer myself, and my answer is always right.  

Just as I love my God moments on the gravel roads.  I know He is there, as much there as in mighty cathedrals.  He is there is the dust, in the corn, the beans and the red tail hawks.  He is there in the deer, the crop dusters and the grain bins.  

So during that time, as I travel the gravel, I let go. And God washes over me.

Letting Go

Letting go. The opposite of holding on. Let go and Let God, comes to mind immediately.  Boy howdy, do I struggle with that one. I like to hold on, I like to give chances, I like to wait for transformation.  I like to invest. But sometimes, you have to let go.

Case in point, my beloved pointer Mickey. Aka MickLovin, Mickey-Poo, Mr. Mick. Mick has been in residence with us for over 17 years. He has been on the sofa for most of those years, with brief visits to the bedrooms.  He chewed a hole in every blanket I've owned. He's dashed through the yard with a hot pink bra flying in the wind behind him. He's given comfort as a therapy dog. Been comfort to those whom he shared the sofa with. He's been a mentor to all the foster dogs who have brought us laughter, graced our lives and sometimes tried our patience. Several times he took advantage of an open gate, door, or an distracted HuMom and went on great adventures.  He loved those trips, I aged because of them. 

You know where this is going. It's going to the part of letting go. It's the day no one wants to see arrive. It's about making the choice to let go before only bad days remain. The end result is a gift. Yes, it's a tear filled gift. No, it's not a decision made easily. In my heart I see him trotting solidly across the yard as only he could at the ripe age of 18.  In my heart I see him snoozing on the sofa. In my heart I hold on, even after I've let go.  He wouldn't want it any other way, neither would I.