Crossing Over

It was an entirely emotional weekend. Unexpected tears flowed randomly throughout. Mostly I am sad, both for my friend and her family, and for the brokenness that always comes with the passing of someone dear. I've heard in the past that if our loved one is in heaven, then we are sad for ourselves, but I believe there is a deeper pain. As another preacher said, "We weren't created with a file folder for death." When our people die, a piece of us goes along with them; all our conversations, our memories together, our sense of connection... Tears are the healing balm.

As I sat in the funeral home waiting for the service to begin, I was touched on the shoulder. I turned to see a man standing next to me. "Hi, Lady," he said. I had to stand up to recognize the pastor of my previous church fellowship, the one I left when I moved off the farm and away from The Cabinetmaker. As neighbor of my friend, he had been asked to lead the service. The presence of both him and his wife, as well as our conversation following, opened a whole other torrent of emotion.

My ex husband and our separation came up in conversation. "Would you consider reconciliation? (with the Cabinetmaker)," they asked me, to which I answered, "What exactly does 'reconciliation' mean?" I have not been the one hiding these past two years. I have absolutely nothing from which to hide. There is no shame in my leaving, no shame in filing for a divorce. I have never sat down and talked with these people about our situation and it has been nearly 8 years since I moved. "I'm always available to talk," said the pastor's wife... except she's about 10 years too late. She'd have gotten a much reserved conversation years back. Today she'd get an earful and I'm not sure either one of us is ready for that.

I've learned a lot of things about church and organized religion these past ten years. I've also learned a lot about the love of God, His ability to care for me and my family, a lot about protecting women and children, and a lot about standing my ground and guarding my heart. I am sickened by the atrocities hidden behind church doors, the secrets kept, and the fingers pointed. I haven't lost my faith, instead it has deepened in a way I never thought possible. Gone are the trite sayings and flippant responses. Gone are judgement and condemnation (if I ever held that to start) and in their place is more love, more acceptance, and more room for those whose choices I don't understand.
  

Cindy. Cindy had a heart of gold. She was far from perfect, but she knew she was loved by her creator and trusted that her cancer and subsequent passing would glorify God. Her prayers were for her friends and family, myself included. Her prayers are being answered. I know that. God isn't finished with her at all. She may not be here in body, but she will remain in spirit for many years to come.

* Pictures from my walk at Webster Park last week.

Final Goodbyes (or are they?)

It's hard to believe I will never run into her randomly at Wegmans, or turn the corner at the florist gift shop and see her smiling... It's hard to imagine she will never call me out of the blue and say, Hi, Mart! (or Toots, or kiddo...), or that I'll never get another text message... 

She's absolutely right. We almost could have been sisters, with our platinum blond hair and light colored eyes. Her eyes were bluer than mine, her smile brighter. One would have never guessed how much she struggled with rejection. She was beautiful through and through..

The calling hours and service were today. Friend after friend, coworker after coworker, ex husband, son, brother, all testified to her love, both for her friends and family, and her savior. She was one of a kind and our lives are woven together like a tapestry whose threads weave over and around, come together and move apart before coming together and winding around again.  My sweet, sweet Cindy, you will never be forgotten...

"Goodby, my beautiful, sister friend.
Godspeed and I'll meet you on the portal's other side.
Thank you for loving me.
I love you the mostest too."

Five and Three

I came to the realization this afternoon that there may have been another reason for yesterday's tears...

Anniversaries can be hard and I already know that, but these two anniversaries are more obscure, so much so that apparently I can all but forget them too. I can forget them consciously, but the subconscious is still painfully aware. The tight muscles? The headache and sleepless nights? Deep inside I didn't really forget because my body remembers. Five years today. Three years yesterday. No details on the first one aside from the fact that it was the reason for the second.

Three years ago today I became the resident of this little attic bedroom. I put the boxes I had packed into my car and moved home to Mom and Dad's house, except Mom and Dad aren't here anymore and my son in law and daughter live downstairs. It was a heart-wrenching move. I left so much behind, and yet God has given me so much. There is still pain in my heart, but there is peace also. I did what needed to be done and God has given me peace, even when there are still tears.