Life is Good

Peace. Peace within.

Nine years ago my heart and soul were in anguish. Seven years ago my heart was broken to pieces. Five years ago I couldn't imagine what healing might look like or how it could ever come true. I had been totally devastated... but not completely destroyed. I held onto the belief that I could be happy again, that my heart would heal, that life would be good. And it is.

There have been a myriad of battles along the way, lots of tears and heart-wrenching realizations. I left a much loved part of myself behind in the little gray house on the country road through apple orchards. I came home to my father's house, the place where my life began, where I was safe and loved, and began the journey to healing. Five years ago I wrote, "I haven't found myself yet, but I'm still looking." Today I can say I finally feel comfortable in my own skin. My year started out tough, but I've come so far the past ten years and I'd never have gotten here without all the adversity.

To be honest, I thought I was happy in my old life and for the most part I was. I'd never wanted to be anything other than a wife and mother. My positions weren't quite what I'd imagined as a young girl, there were lots of tears, but I'd never be the person I am today without those hard lessons. It's because of them that I have been able to sit down and sort through what I believe and why, to set some beliefs aside, and to tuck others deeper into my heart and soul. Inside I am still very much the same girl I have always been with a generous helping of confidence that I was previously missing. 

Honestly, life is good. It is very good.

(Pictures from my Indian Summer walk in the woods on Thursday, which also happened to be Halloween.)

On Going "Home"

I went "home" on Friday afternoon. An invitation was extended, I was available, and I am still in need of healing, so I went. (photos from my years past collection)

It's been five years since Jon and Sarah moved into the little gray house. She greeted me warmly, gave me a hug, and took me on a tour. Once upon a time I called the place "home." It sheltered my family and me, gathered us into its warmth on cold winter days, held us when we were hurting, and kept watchful eyes while we slept. There were gatherings of friends and family in the yard for summer picnics, birthday parties and holiday celebrations inside when the weather wasn't agreeable. It was a beautiful place to call "home," mostly...

I stepped into rooms I thought I would never see again...  The kitchen, the living room, my mother's room, even the bedrooms. They were all familiar in a strange kind of way. I took it in and smiled. Although I hadn't met Sarah before this summer, we have known Jon in one capacity or another for about 15 years. We talked about my kids, who know Jon from a previous church fellowship, and I felt myself get teary. Two of my boys have already visited the farm since James sold it. It is quite obvious that Jon, who is between my two youngest children in age, cares very much for them. It's part of what made me feel emotional.

Sarah was eager to show me the animals. I'd already met the four dogs who live inside the house and are like their children. Underneath Barn 3, where Jon and his brother poured a concrete floor, was a sow and several piglets, and another sow who will also soon give birth. In and around the little concrete building that long ago housed seasonal orchard workers, was a wonderful menagerie of pets; donkeys, sheep, goats, pot bellied pigs, and a castrated bull calf Jon rescued. There were ducks, chickens, and a turkey as well. I was told they have barn cats (the Naughties would have been thrilled to stay on the farm) and also rabbits, which I did not see. (I might have forgotten something but I can't think of what it might be.) Jon and Sarah do not have children of their own, but the child of a friend was there soaking in all the love and attention she could.

It was an interesting afternoon. I found a piece of healing that isn't yet complete, but I think it can be. I'm looking forward to another visit some day.

Forty-Two

In spite of the the teary April and melancholy May, this has been my best June in seven years. It came with all the same anniversaries but fewer overwhelming emotions. 

Sunday was Father's Day. I spent a couple of hours that afternoon with my son Nathan and his four children, Joe and Ben, and of course Hannah and Sergio and the boys. We had a late birthday party with cake for Logan who turned 4 on June 8, and strawberry shortcake for Nathan because he turned 33 on June 19.

Last night we met at the Webster Park Playground and made ice cream sundaes for Nate's birthday because everyone needs to be remembered on their special day, especially when it comes with sending your kids back home to Mom at the end.It was a good night and we got to see Sabrina for a minute too.

Today. I did okay with today, although every so often I feel tears just beneath the surface. It's okay to feel sad. It's healthy so long as I acknowledge the pain and don't stay there. It's been 42 years since James and I were married as 17 year old kids. It's not hard to love the pieces of him that are kind, loving, and funny. I can even love the sometimes angry James. He did so many things, big and small, to make me laugh or feel loved... I wish that was the entire story. I wish there hadn't been other pieces because I still love him in so very many ways.

I stopped at the church two weeks ago to drop off a roll of tape he'd left here when he helped me with the paneling upstairs. In the parking lot I ran into his friend Kathy getting something out of her car. They hang out together, have dinners and parties at her house, and keep each other company. She is a beautiful woman who I love and respect, but I hadn't seen her in several years. I called to her as I walked toward the door. When we met each other I gave her a big hug. I told her that I love her and she said the same. We went inside and I took the tape to James. When I was leaving the parking lot, Kathy came out to find me. "I want you to know," she said, "that Jim and I are just friends."
"It's okay," I told her, and it is. There is no one else on earth that I would want more to love and encourage my children.
Kathy is not young. She is older than us by10-15 years. Our being divorced has nothing to do with her. As far as I am concerned she is nothing but a sweetheart, much loved by the church body, and highly respected. Her late husband was the heartbeat of the church. I may be confused by the friendship between her and James, but I am okay with it too. I am relieved to have seen her, to have given her a hug, and to have talked. This is a big step in my healing.

June 19. Nathan's birthday and 4 years since our divorce was final. There's a bit of a sting in my heart tonight, a few tears, and a whole lot of healing. I am more than okay.

(Two posts this evening because I'm playing Catch-Up.)

Bits and Pieces

*  I like three day weekends...

*  I like short work weeks...

* I went to the doctor about my back (again). I went 4 years ago and the doctor was ready to send me for an MRI. This doctor was calmer, suggested it is perhaps sacroiliitis and prescribed an anti-inflammatory medication along with a bit of physical therapy. He also gave me some exercises to try. Bending and lifting all day is hard on the aging body.

*  May was a month of processing thoughts and emotions. I'm sure it will carry over into June and beyond. I'm learning about Emotional Phantoms. (Kind of like a phantom limb, which is something I thought about over the weekend...) 

*  No new room update. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, but the tunnel itself is long and dark.

*  A friend and I are planning to go on a little vacation in August. It involves sand and water and I think it will be fun. Stay tuned.

I Wish Healing

The struggle is real, but not the struggle over wishing anyone pain. I never wish pain. I only wish to shield others from pain. Always. Remember those folks in the Bible who got themselves into hot water with God? Guys like Judas... I always hoped they would find a good ending. Always. If a story didn't have a happy ending, it haunted me.

People say it isn't good or healthy to live in the past. I'm not always sure exactly what "living in the past" means, but I think there are many times when the well-intentioned simply doesn't know what else to say. Each and every one of us lives in the past to some degree. The past is all we have to go by, and all of its influences make us who we are today. I am who I am, not only because of my natural wiring, but also because of all my past experiences.

I had an ideal childhood, not perfect, but ideal. Since all families deal with some degree of dysfunction, we had some of that too, but mostly there was love, laughter, and a great sense of security. There isn't much I would change about being a kid, but there are quite a few things I'd change for  my own kids, if that were possible. In spite of our failures in raising them, our kids have turned out pretty terrific. They deal with deep pain, and sometimes they bleed pain on others. Sometimes they even bleed pain on me, but with all of my heart I wish them healing. And I wish and pray healing for the Cabinetmaker too, because deep inside I will always love him.

The Promise of Spring

Spring is gaining strength and winter is waning. Yesterday we had a few snowflakes in the air. This morning we had a fire drill and during the afternoon the children played outside in short sleeves. Tonight I am sitting at my little desk, once a wedding gift to my maternal grandparents, with the window open. The birds are singing their evening song and my heart is feeling peace.

Bible verse of the day, Psalm 126:5. They who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. I have to do a little more work on processing my hurt and anger from this week, but the pain is not overwhelming. I slept last night and tomorrow I have an appointment with my counselor. I am grateful for the appointment because for some reason I was thinking I didn't have another until the end of the month. I actually said, "Praise God!" out loud when the reminder came in my email.    

It's been a week of sorting mind files, a going through the baggage kind of week, and this time things are beginning to make sense. Being asked to step out of a group to which I have dedicated 41 Monday evenings, June through April with only Labor day missing, was devastating, but it hasn't destroyed me. God has better plans for me. The healing He has in store is the kind I really want and need anyway., because He is the only one who knows my story from start to finish, and the only one who loves me wholly and completely.

I have not only been asked to step out of the group, but banished from it. I do not have the choice to return. I've been told I am "stuck," "not ready," and have not gone "deep enough" with my shared answers...But I am not stuck, because God doesn't leave his kids stuck. Instead He is using the seeming unkindness of people I loved and trusted, to get me over the hump. I was told I could start a new step study come September, but that is not likely to happen. Had the leaders been honest with the other members as to why I wasn't coming back, ... I might,...  maybe... consider it. But they were simply told I wasn't coming back, as if it had been my decision, and I think there is something inherently rotten about that. It's like I'm seeing a field of red flags waving at me, and tonight I am grateful for blank answers and an inability to write down what would normally flow naturally.

I am okay. Good even. I am learning to advocate for and take care of myself. I didn't need a rescuer to swoop in and fix it up for me, and that is progress. I've learned a major trigger point in my emotional baggage and God has lanced the wound deep in my heart. Healing has begun. Thank you for your prayers.