Wishing you this.

Somehow, we have moved through another entire year. How well did we move? Was it with peace, with anxiety, with anger, with joy. Did we move with hope? Did we move forward or back, or some of each? Was it full of grief? Was it grueling and yet filled with grace? Was it scary? Did we dance, did we laugh, did we move faith forward? 

It was a year of so much change in my life. I never do things in a small way. Although my desire is to tip-toe gently in, often I find I jump in and then wade through the fallout. Finding our way is like that. Fallout is a necessary part of life. Living is necessary for fallout. You can't have one without the other. 

Accept a new job I thought, pull up roots I thought. I am ready for this I thought. Let go of all that is familiar and start again.  Discover all the changes you asked for are harder in more ways than you could ever have imagined. Grieve deeply for the past. Grieve deeply for a place that was a beloved home for many years. Grieve the life changes that made all of this come to fruition. Pack up and move twice in six months. That was a beast of an endeavor. But you know what feels like home and what doesn't. If you have to move more than once to find it do so. Then thank those who helped you repeatedly make it happen.

It's been a year of uncertainty, and of discovery. What would I do different? I'd reach out sooner for help when I needed it. Sometimes we are slow learners. I'd lean in closer to the love available. I'd let go of anxiety and breathe in certainty. I'd trust deeply that my needs will be met. After all, doesn't the big guy upstairs promise me that?  I don't have to do life by myself. I'd trust more, worry less. I'd understand mistakes are simply human moments  and stepping stones for growth. I'd be gentle with myself. I'd accept that other people don't have to like me, but I do. I'd cry a lot, maybe more, if possible. Crying is cleansing and healing. I'd anticipate good things.

I walked the dogs daily, beginning mid-March, and have only missed three days. Not going the count the number of poop bags I used, but can I just say Layla donates regularly on our walks. That's a personal record for consistent exercise for me. Granted we use the stop and sniff method. For the dogs stopping to use their nose is an important part of the process. I particularly like when this happens on big hills. I reached out to others who walk the path of survivors of suicide loss. I hope my experience and encouragement finds its way to those struggling.  I helped Hobbs gently cross the bridge when it was time. I helped Gunther through a couple of health issues.  And this, this is a big one...I didn't give up. Lord knows how much I wanted to give up.

So here I am at years end. Weary, grateful, stronger, wiser, softer. I have a much deeper understanding of our need for connection. So I wish you these same things...loving connections, strength, gratitude, growth. May the path be easy, and if not, may it be traveled with faith, family and good friends. That's who and what gets us through the hard parts. That's who laughs with us at the absurdities of life. That's who celebrate's the victories big and small. That's who wipes the tears and gives us courage to move forward again. Wishing you this, so much of this.

This And That

It is completely okay, to not feel the Jolly in the Holly Jolly. To not feel the Merry in the Merry Christmas. To only feel the la-la-la, in the Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la. 

It is part and parcel of life to be completely blessed and still feel sad, or lonely, or any of your other very valid feelings. This has been such a grieving season for all of us. Loss of our sense of normalcy, as well as other losses in life. Some losses we see coming, and can understand to some degree. Some losses will surface, and resurface and never make any sense at all. 

There are times we may think, I 'should' be happy because I have this, this, and this. The have's don't always zero out the haven'ts. Truthfully, some people only dream of the lives we have. The jobs we have, the roof over our heads, the food in our pantry. Some of this reads contradictory. We are blessed, we are blessed beyond belief. And, we have losses to grieve and sorrows to bear. We can feel joy and anticipation one moment, sadness and heartache the next. The common denominator? We feel.

Whatever you are feeling in this season of life, this season of the year, it's valid. And, you are valuable. Feel it, bless the feeling and release it. Because it's okay to be both this and that. 

In The Midst...

I make it a point to sit in my little family room to eat dinner. It is one of the few moments daily that I slow down, am fully present and enjoy. I also do that so I am eating at a table without clutter, without technology (although sometimes I cheat on that), even without a book. Sometimes I struggle with finding the joy in eating alone. But today, as I looked around this little room, I discovered something very important.

In this little room with brick walls and a wood burning stove, hang antlers from the deer my Dad shot many moons ago. There is the Christmas tree with the first ornaments I bought as a newlywed in 1980. There is the ornament I crocheted when I was pregnant in 1983. There is a mistletoe ornament. One doesn't take chances missing out on kisses under the mistletoe. But there is more. There is a board salvaged from the junk pile behind a flower shop I managed. It's been repurposed into a sign that says Together Is A Wonderful Place To Be on one side, and Believe on the other. Painted with love by a friend I had the privilege of working with. There is a old barn door I bought with another flower shop friend at a one-of-a kind sale. One of us was going home with that door, I was the lucky one. There is the collage of pictures from my rural home of sunsets, storm clouds and the creek. There is the winter picture painted in a class with the women's group from my little village of 42. It says All Is Calm, All Is Bright. Nothing in my life was calm or bright at that time. There are pointer pictures I collected over the years, finally hung in a gallery setting. There is the metal pointer silhouette gifted from a friend in Canada. There is the perfect chair I found at the GoodWill, because I am a thrift store kinda gal. There is so much past and present in that room. So many answered prayers. So many memories of life, family/friends and love.

I discovered I am not alone at all in that room. In the midst of all the busyness. In the midst of viruses, fear, stress and worry. In the midst of lost dreams and answered prayers I am surrounded by love. In the midst of this season of life, whatever it consists of, may you be surrounded by love. May you Believe. Look past the messes, the challenges, and see the blessings. The truth is that you are not alone. And...You are oh so loved.

Changed But Not Diminished

As a survivor, of any sort of trauma, each new life experience is filtered through the "if this hadn't occurred, I wouldn't be right here, right now". Even the really good stuff is shadowed by the knowledge that bad things happened propelling that person on to a new life. One didn't happen without the other. 

The same applies at the other end of the spectrum, really terrific things also lead you to places and experiences that wouldn't have come to pass without them. Life is complex.

I just want to share that I am a bit frayed around the edges. Have been for some time now. Scarred, altered, battered if you will. I am also softened, stronger and more me than I ever was. Things don't have to be pretty to be beautiful. Things can be raw and rugged and be entirely blessed beyond measure. 

We're entering the holiday season a bit bruised and tattered. It's been a hard year. It continues to be a hard year. We have been challenged. We have been stressed. Life does not look like life as we knew it. We've had losses, and we grieve them. We will always grieve them. We've scaled back, hopefully, to the essence of what we truly value. Finding at the heart of it what carries us through, what we hold dear, what matters.

 

But this, this says it all for me. Now truth be told, long long ago one of the dogs got a hold of this ornament and gnawed on it. It was altered, it was traumatized, it was changed. Little did I know how symbolic this would be. All I knew back then was that it was still beautiful in my eyes. I loved the dog, I loved the ornament, I forgave the dog, I kept the ornament.

The message is the same whether it's on spun gold or chewed wood. Personally, I'll take the chewed wood. We kind of resemble that this year, I know I do. A little worse for the wear, but His light and love shines through. Changed by our circumstances, but because of our faith, not diminished by them. 

Finding gratitude and joy, on a holiday week, in a pandemic.

Holiday weeks can be hard. For the grieving, or the lonely. Or the lonely and grieving. For those whose family is far away, sometimes even for those whose family is in the same room. Then add in all the stress of the pandemic.

So, how to find the grace in a situation we never saw coming, and won't see leaving soon. Perhaps, I have an advantage of some sort having experienced an unexpected tragedy that will always affect me. There aren't many wins that came from that loss. However, if I dig deep I can find a few things that would never have evolved without the loss. Things that brought growth, compassion, understanding.

We are facing a week normally full of family, feasting, football, and other festivities. This year we face uncertainty through a face mask, and may likely spend more time with hand sanitizer than family. It's not what we want, it's not what we ever expected, it's not going away soon. It's tragic. 

So we will have a lot of feelings this week. Sadness, loss, fear, uncertainty, worry, and many others. We will be challenged to connect in different ways to embrace the thanks we are usually giving this week. There are still many things to be grateful for. Even in the midst of worry, we can slow down and find blessings. I'm not saying it will be easy. I'm just saying it can be done. Holidays are always poignant reminders, full stop. Whatever your reminders are, know you are not alone. 

If you are struggling let someone know. If you have gifts of encouragement or service, offer them. If you are in need, ask. If you can, pray. If you can put your wants and desires aside for the health and safety of others do so. Do not, however, forget to find ways to celebrate, to connect, to give and to give thanks. This season of life may not look anything like you want it to. It may suck beyond belief, it may seem never ending. It won't always be like this, keep the faith, trust there is a bigger plan and know, know you aren't alone. Know it's okay to give thanks in all circumstances, in fact it's recommended. 

 

A Light In The Dark

Every day we build our life. We have new experiences, we learn, meet new people, develop relationships. There is a relationship in my life called grief. If we live, and we love, we will also grieve at some point. Grief lurks in the background sometimes, other times it jumps out front and center. We can say we make peace with it, but I'll admit to struggling with it. 

Many years ago I was in a vehicle that went backwards off a cliff from a one lane road in Hawaii. When the vehicle stopped, all four wheels were off the ground. A boulder stopped us from rolling. Thank God for the boulder. None of us suffered serious injuries. All of us were changed. I can only speak for myself, but I had to wonder, and still do why we walked away. Medical personnel told us no one walks away from these types of accidents. Yet, we did. So I have to believe there was something in the bigger plan that I was meant to do. 

I'd also like to think the bigger plan was not to be a survivor of suicide loss. Thing is, I didn't get to pick the plan, I just have to navigate through it. The "what if's" go on and on. What if this, what if that. The further down the road of grief, the less these thoughts plague you. Sometimes though, like around the holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, plain old uneventful days, rainy days, sunny days it all surfaces. Am I meant to bear witness to faith, to survival? Am I meant to lead others who struggle by owning my truth? Am I meant to boldly say mental health issues are nothing to be ashamed of? Can I say survivor of suicide loss enough times that it breaks down even a tiny bit of the stigma? 

When I changed jobs this year, my "story" which most people only know pieces of preceded me. People love to share pieces and feed the stigma. People didn't treat me different, make me a source of gossip, whisper about what happened when I was in an accident. People have accidents. Accidents are unfortunate, even tragic, but "acceptable". Suicide is another thing. And you know what? Suicide is not acceptable. Treating someone different because of it is not acceptable. Feeling shame because you struggle with mental health is not acceptable. Giving up entirely is not acceptable. Being afraid to ask for help is not acceptable. Losing precious lives to mental health issues is not acceptable. 

So, as another birthday that cues the grief is days away, I wonder if my bigger plan was/is to be a light in the dark. Time will tell. Even being a tiny light is a gift. May we all be tiny lights, or big bold bright lights. Tell your story, own your truth, trust the process. Open the doors to acceptance, heal some pain, diffuse the stigma. So know and trust...that it is no accident that you and I are here, right where we need to be, to make a difference some way, some how. 

Own That

 I had a friend tell me "so, very few people could do what you have done this year. Weaker souls woulda just given up." She also said, own that. Cuz it is amazing. My immediate response was smarter people wouldn't have tried it. I'm still trying to digest this, to accept this.

Funny how hard it is to acknowledge a life truth, to accept a compliment, a reality. Reality is hard, reality is poignant, reality holds moments of joy, and reality can rip a scab right open. I'd be remiss if I didn't own that so many times this year I have wished I'd made other choices. Wished I had not pulled up roots. Wished I was back in my old life. Except, growth required me to seek a new life. 

I am not the type to move repeatedly. I am a home body. I struggle with change. I stress over not knowing the when, the where, the how. This year has taken any idea of when, where and how and thrown it to the wind. I gave up one home to return to another, only to find out it didn't feel like home there any more. Letting go is hard. Moving triggered so much grief. Owning something and feeling it are sometimes two different things. We need to do both.

I don't believe I've done anything all that amazing. I took a leap of faith. The rest was beyond my control. As always, I'm guided exactly where I need to be, and my needs (even ones I was unaware of) are amply met.

Does that mean it's been easy? Nope. Nothing good comes easy. It involves a huge portion of faith, and unfailing optimism. Okay, I'm fibbing there. Sometimes optimism wains. It does, and then, it recalculates like a GPS program. I don't have all the answers, I muddle through just like everyone else. Some of my muddles have been enormous. Eh, they happen. 

While it can be hard to accept a compliment, it is also okay to do so. We need affirmation, we need encouragement. We need to be able to give it to ourselves, and to others. So listen up. You've done good. Listen up,  I've done good. Take the leaps of faith, and move into the life meant to be yours. Struggle with it, wrestle with it, embrace it. Love it. And...in my friends words, not mine...."I know it's not the path you would have chosen...but it is paved in grace, and beauty in spite of it." Own that.