Family Time

Monday, February 24, 2025

It was a whirlwind weekend. Jim flew into town on Friday afternoon to join the family in watching Grandmanita's Celebration of Life in Halifax via Zoom on Saturday afternoon. On Friday my kids gathered here and we cooked breakfast for dinner, or "brinner" as Hannah calls it. We had French toast, sausage and bacon, hash brown patties, and fruit salad. 

We had an easy time connecting to the Celebration of Life but the sound did not come through loud and clear. Computer programs are designed to filter "background noise" and they can get confused as to what should be filtered. The closer the mike was held to a mouth, the better we could hear. It was pretty amazing to see family scattered across the two countries.

Jim asked on Friday evening if he could go to church with me on Sunday. I picked him up yesterday morning on my way into the city. It felt amazing to have him there with me. It's been a long time since any of my kids sat with me through a regular church service. We stopped at an Italian bakery (Leo's) on the way home and the family gathered again mid afternoon for some chili and a final evening together. 

Friday, February 28, 2025

James's oldest sister was in town for the week. I saw her briefly on Saturday afternoon when I went over to Bethany's house a couple hours after the Celebration of Life. She was sitting at the table in the kitchen where a game of Scrabble was being played. I said hello, she answered, and then leaned over and whispered in my son Dave's ear, asking him to take her around the corner to a cousin's house. She hugged the family, said her goodbyes without looking at or addressing me, and went out the door. This is divorce. I hadn't seen her since Jim and Michele were married in 2013. She made no attempt to see Hannah while she was in town, much, I think, to Hannah's relief. 

Our world feels turned upside down lately. My country feels strange and scary... a large portion of the church feels cold and callous... I no longer recognize people I have known for years... I fear for friends and neighbors... and my children and grandchildren... I am ashamed of our leadership... In another week or so we will welcome a new little life into our home. We will wrap him in our arms and pray for his safety and success. We will love him and teach him to love others, especially the least of them.

 

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.)

Time Marches On

Looking backward is not advised, and yet each morning I look back over my Facebook memories, pour through the pictures and find myself amazed at how fast life moves along and what has transpired. Past moments on the farm very often catch me by surprise, bringing with them all the feels of yesteryear; bittersweet, poignant reminders of another life...

Materially speaking the farm was everything I'd ever wanted but had never dreamed would be mine. Simply stepping out the back door took my breath away. Three barns and a house surrounded by apple orchards, three and a half acres of land on a country road, and a wood burning stove. The kitchen was spacious, the living room big enough to hold our ever expanding family whenever special occasions arose. We spent countless hours outside in the yard, on the back porch, or gathered in the living room. Picnics, parties, holidays, we did them all...  And then the bomb dropped and the bottom fell out of my world. 

Grief is complicated and complex with threads of varying thicknesses and colors, twisted and wound into a multitude of indistinguishable knots. For months I picked numbly at knotted, outer layers, terrified of what lay beneath the surface, often setting the entire mess aside. I did all I could to live a normal life in a world that had suddenly shattered. Death leaves a visible gaping hole. Abuse leaves an unseen, shredding of the soul. Outsiders witness the abused gasping for breath, but they do not see the wound. The gasping renders others clueless. Rather than come alongside the breathless, they offer empty platitudes or avoid getting involved altogether... 

The best way to untangle a knot is to follow one colored strand, tediously and methodically unwinding it from the others. Eight years. I've been untangling threads, cords and strands for over eight years. It's a wearisome task.

(And here my thoughts were interrupted by someone I love. My phone was ringing and on the other end someone who intricately understands the complexity of grief, abuse, and knotted threads. If only (another fruitless hope)... If only I could wind the hands of time backward, to erase at least of portion the heartache to which my not-knowing-better has contributed. Today I know something different. Today I would give different advice.)

Can I untie the tangled, haphazard knots in this string of life? Can all the pain of yesterday be woven into hope and beauty? This is my earnest prayer.

Can You Hold This for Minute?

I've come to The Blog multiple times and stared at it, wanting to write but not knowing what to say... I visited my therapist the night before Thanksgiving. There were a few tears and some moments of laughter.

"Years ago you told me," I said to him, "that things like this take 3 to 5 years to work through..." 

"We're pretty close to that," he answered.

And I laughed and said, "It's been 8 years."

There remains the question, "Have I worked through it?" and the answer comes in layers. 

I'm grateful he didn't say, "It takes 3-5 years to get over things like this," because there is no way to "get over it." We can only learn to live with the awful truth and grow, however long it may take and however painful it may be, and we (I'm talking my family) are all working through this as individuals which means a myriad of different angles and understandings. It's the most complicated thing we have ever had to do, and honestly, in all likelihood we will be processing some aspect of it until our lives here end.

A few nights ago I had a conversation with a beloved family member who was trying to help me sort through some feelings. I don't think either of us was prepared for the feelings that welled up inside of me. "Anger" is a simple term that covers a broad spectrum of emotions from irritation to blind rage and everything in between. It's a safe word. A "weasel word," if you will.

For years I've known I should feel intense anger, but mostly felt only numbness. Rather than look my own indignation, outrage, or lividity in the face, I placed a cap on the bottle and screwed it down tight, It was too painful to let the emotions out, and besides I didn't even know how. All of my life I have been taught to put myself last, to think of others first, to keep secrets, cover sins, and think the best. I have taken on the emotions of others to the detriment of self, but this time it wasn't about just me. I dragged my feet, searched both scripture and soul, sought wise counsel, and eventually did the hardest thing I have ever done. I moved away from the home I loved, the church I attended, and the man I had married. It ripped my heart out, but in all honesty, it had already been torn to shreds.

Today I recognize the anger inside. I feel it tighten my back, neck and shoulder muscles, and creep down my arms and legs. It has shown up in blood pressure readings, fatigue and depression, as well as regret and feelings of hopelessness. It has brought isolation, loneliness, and insurmountable loss. 

But for all the negative there are positives to anger as well. I learned to set boundaries and an example as well. In spite of the numbness inside, in spite of the swinging pendulum of emotions, I did what needed to be done in order to lance the abscess and bring much needed relief to not only myself but my children as well. Surgery is painful. Healing is agonizing. Physical therapy is hard and exhausting work. (I speak allegorically.) Today I need not only to loosen the bottle cap, but remove the bottle altogether. The problem is that I don't know how to process anger in a healthy manner. I only know how to shut it down.

Please don't tell me I need to "give it to Jesus" because, although I have heard that all my life, I don't have an inkling what that is supposed to mean. Is it possibly enough to admit to myself and others that I am deeply wounded and profoundly angry not only for my children, but myself as well? I am ready to move on and desperately need to let it all go, I'm just not sure where to set the bag.

With all of that said, I have undergone an incredible transformation the past eight and a half years. Life rarely feels hopeless, I seldom isolate, and my family is healing in ways I once deemed impossible. The mirror reflects more peace and happiness with each passing year and I am incredibly grateful for each and every bit of growth, even if I'm not entirely grateful for how it came about.

(I'm headed to Florida on Wednesday morning. Stay tuned for some great times and photos.)

And That's What's Goin' Down

It's one of those weeks where my heart is not at rest. I know the reason, but I haven't yet been able to completely quell the pangs of anxiety that occasionally swell in my chest. I'm not sure the arrows through my heart will ever disappear entirely, or if there is an absolute remedy for ache within. I am grateful for happy, relaxed days that now far outnumber the anxious achy ones that creep up unexpected at predictable times of the year. Better forward planning on my part could likely alleviate some of the angst. Perhaps next year I will remember...

It was a rough afternoon in the baby room. Summers days are not quite as predictable as those of the school year and our routines, if we happen to have any, get thrown into a tizzy. Scrambled routines and infants make for frazzled caregivers. I was more than ready to go home at 3:15 pm. 

Next week will find me playing a new game, which is not a game at all. It is often referred to as "civic duty." Yup, I got a jury summons. It's not the summons one typically thinks of. It is instead a grand jury summons. I'll find out what time to report when I call in next Monday. If I am seated my dates of service run through the month of August. Pretty much three days a week.

It is Hannah's birthday today. She's 27. I'm not sure how that happened because it seems I just posted about her being Sweet Sixteen (almost). Yesterday a few brothers came over and we enjoyed ice cream floats. Today we visited our favorite chiropractor in his new office, and then stopped at Wegmans to find a fancy dessert. I splurged on a cheesecake sampler. :0)

Truth is Hard To Swallow

Forgive me a heavy post while I sort my thoughts...

My biggest regret in life is inadvertently teaching my children to tolerate and accept abuse. My greatest heartache is seeing the effects of my failure to teach them otherwise. I thought I was teaching them love and forgiveness. I somehow thought they would automatically and instinctively know what abuse looked like. I didn't realize they would come to view it as "normal." Instead of teaching them to choose healthy relationships, I modeled enabling, and I failed to protect them when they were abused. How often did I bite my tongue in order to avoid escalating a situation? How many times did I cover for him because of my own fear or embarrassment? How regularly did I tell myself "It isn't that bad" or "It could be worse"? Why didn't I realize how deep and long-lasting are the wounds of spiritual, emotional and mental abuse? How did I come to believe the lack of physical evidence equated the lack of actual abuse? How did I slip into focusing only on what was good in our family when in actuality so much was out of line?  The price is astronomical.

Today I have a divorce, but it took extenuating circumstances to get us here. I didn't arrive in this place without an incredible amount of inner conflict. It has been incredibly painful on every side. I have felt the crippling inability to respond, the suffocating agony of straddling disbelief and acceptance, and the fear of losing everything I loved including my relationship with my children. I have both kept silent and shared secrets, attempted to gloss over pain as well as expose it, and to be honest about our issues while not tearing down the other. It's an impossible balance and I fall multiple times on a daily basis. Sometimes I have a painfully difficult time getting up to try again.

When I walked away from my marriage, it was my desperate hope to set an better example for my children, but they were already grown. I finally saw a boundary that had to be enforced, even though there had been boundary crossings trampled long before. (Sometimes it takes my breath away when I realize the extent of what I have tolerated.) I am finally beginning to understand why outsiders are so furious with the "non offending" parent, even though I understand her place because I am her.

Where do I go from here? What can I do? It is impossible to travel back in time and do life over again, to make better past choices myself and set better past examples. I'm struggling to not make excuses for the younger me, while at the same time realizing that the younger Martha did the best she knew how to do. This is a painful process full of icky feeling emotions. My hands feel dirty but no matter how many times I wash them, I can't seem to get them entirely clean... And just when I feel utterly hopeless, God steps in to remind me that there is always hope with Him. I don't have to be an enabler. I can make better choices for the future. I can heal from codependence. I can be a better mom, grandmother, and friend.

Where Have I Been?

Regular blogging takes a kind of concentration that is almost absent most days, but I'm still here. By the time I come upstairs at night, my mind and body are tired and my thoughts jumbled, as they are tonight. I've been feeling a little "off" lately, but today was some better. I'm not entirely sure what threw me off kilter, but I think I'm gradually getting to centered again.

Speaking of being centered, my pottery class was this evening. Night 6 of 8. Two more and the class is over. I have no new photographs to share. I've felt a bit out of my element this time around but tonight was a tad better. I actually pulled a decent sized cylinder, even if it did eventually collapse. I'd been feeling pretty discouraged with pottery so this is a ray of hope.

Sunday afternoon found me taking a long drive to a picnic at the home of my cousin Deb. There was a little bit of a celebration in honor of Aunt Mary and Uncle Chuck's birthdays and wedding anniversary. Looking back in the "Blog Files" leads me to conclude this was number 62. Aunt Mary is struggling and I am sad to see her looking so different from how she will always be remembered, always smiling and full of life. These are my only remaining aunt and uncle. Everyone else if gone...

I took my camera along to the party, left it in my car, went back out to get it, and then put it back again. I just didn't feel at ease snapping pictures of family members who hardly know me and didn't want to make uncomfortable those who do. So much has changed since the old gatherings... (Perhaps this is part of why I am feeling off. My heart hurts just writing this.) Anyway, a pair of robins had built their nest under the eave of the house and on top of a downspout. The momma and poppa birds were tag-teaming the feeding of their little family. Needless to say I went back for my camera.

Clay in His Hands

 Grief. It never ends. It just gets traded in for a newer model.

She tripped over my foot. I wasn't careful how far out into the aisle it was, and when she came running by, she caught my toe and down she went. If I'd had my feet directly in front of me, she wouldn't have fallen. It was an accident, but she's insistent that I intentionally hurt her, even said I pushed her as well... and that I laughed. I heard her tell someone that I'm always doing those things, that I do it to make her look stupid, and that I'm mean and only care about myself... But that isn't true. The only true part, is that she tripped over my foot and fell. I didn't mean for it to happen.

My new pottery class started last week. Last Tuesday I was a little overwhelmed and had trouble just throwing a simple cylinder. Tonight, emotionally overwhelmed with relational complications of the past week, the temptation was strong to skip the class, stay home, and isolate upstairs in my room. I didn't want to go out at all, but honestly, it had little to do with pottery...

Two weeks ago I was feeling confident and self assured, and the past few days I haven't been able to shake the heavy blanket of self doubt and depression. I know that dark clouds will pass in time, as they always do, but I find myself wondering how long it will take to make up the lost progress of the previous months. I've come so far in the journey to healing, and yet I still find each setback frightening, especially when the feeling of loss and dread are so profound. It's a though a pair of giant claws are sunk deep into my flesh and I'm bleeding...

I could have stayed home this evening, but then I remembered the previous times when the things I love so much (children, photography, pottery...) have felt overwhelming, and I knew to stay home would be to let the depression win. So I went. I went to my class even though my heart was heavy, and once again God came through. He took my heavy heart and held me close. It was a good evening, a silly evening of cup handles turned gargoyles and conversations that made us laugh. And I am grateful.

(The faces were a group effort, each one touched by multiple hands as they were transformed from normal handles stuck on the wall, to faces.)

Oh, There I Am!

There are moments when I am very much the same woman who started this blog a little over 15 years ago, and others where that woman feels a million miles away. There was absolutely no way I could have known in 2006 where the next ten years would take me, ... or the five following. There have been days so difficult that I didn't know how I would find the strength to survive. I learned how to cry again... when I thought that piece of me had been lost. The cap blew off the bottled up pain deep inside, spewing forth in torrents of tears, broken dreams, and gut-wrenching realizations. Healing felt impossible. The mountain before me insurmountable, the raging storm unstoppable... and yet, here I am.

Moments of searing pain still catch me off-guard, but my waking hours aren't consumed by the deep, unending ache. I've learned to love and forgive, to let go of what I can't control (which is just about everything), and to work on the only one I have any power over at all. Me. God continues to open my eyes to the world around me, to teach me new way, and to carry me over chasms uncrossable. 

There remain situations I don't understand. Life is about relationship, and relationships, quite frankly, can be hard. Only God sees straight to the heart. He knows me intimately and loves me anyway. It doesn't matter if I'm in a good mood and having the time of my life, or if I am angry and incorrigible. He's always just a prayer away, and that's not very far at all.

I am entirely thankful for the chance to find myself again, and even more grateful to have God holding me as I do. I'm looking forward to learning to new lessons, finding new friends and renewing old friendships, and taking deep, unhindered breaths and I climb new mountains.

I Stayed Home Yesterday

It was a tough weekend. 

 Saturday marked seven years since my mom's passing. I didn't cry much at the time. I was mostly numb. Being her primary caretaker during the final three years of her life had been a challenge, not because she was difficult, but because untraveled roads and unfamiliar territory come with fears and failures. It wasn't easy losing her to dementia a little bit at a time...

Sunday brought a different kind of stress when I woke to a message from someone I love dearly. We are on opposite sides of the same trial and meeting in the middle is pretty much impossible. I'm not sure what this will mean in the future, but I pray we are one day able to do what today looks to be unattainable. 

Since I've not yet mastered the ability to hear another person's words without my body overreacting, I'm afraid I went into full alert. After a week of little to no sugar, I found myself buying a big slice of chocolate cake from the Wegmans Bakery. (A friend told me cake has no sugar. I knew he was lying, but decided to take his word for it anyway.) I don't know how chocolate, and especially chocolate cake, help in times of dire distress, but it was all I could think of to help in the moment.

I woke up between Sunday evening and Monday morning with a horrific headache. I considered getting up to find a pain reliever, but couldn't drag myself from the bed and went back to sleep instead. By morning I had a full-blown, throbbing, tension headache. I hauled myself out of bed and down to the shower where I stood trembling in pain, waves of nausea washing over me. I knew I couldn't go to work and function. Even driving would be dangerous. I sent my boss a reluctant text. I had never called in sick. 

As I showered I also filled the tub with hot water and let myself have a good long soak before getting out and putting my pajamas back on. Upstairs I brushed my wet hair, put a towel over my pillow, and crawled back into bed. The pain killers I'd taken before getting into the shower slowly began to work. Although they took the edge off and I stopped shaking and feeling queasy, the pain in my neck and shoulders remained. By early afternoon I sent my favorite chiropractor a text. He gave me a hug, adjusted my neck and upper back. When I came home, I took some Benadryl and turned the light off early. I heard my phone chime a time or two but didn't even look until morning when I saw he'd sent me a text at 8 pm asking how my headache was feeling.

I woke this morning headache free with just the sore muscles of a previously knotted up back and shoulders. I was assigned to the older toddler room for most of the day. Five little girls, all two years old. I haven't spent an entire day in the older toddler room since I first started at the daycare almost four years ago! I'll admit, I felt a little overwhelmed to start with, but we did just fine.

Now if only I can remember tomorrow is Wednesday and not Tuesday...

(I needed a photo, so you get one from last week when they all decided to sit along the outside of the building. I don't think anyone's really looking at the camera...)

Loss

Every direction I turn I see loss. Today it feels hopeless all over again, but I know that once the tears are done falling, the sun will shine again. Somewhere in all of this mess there is something good.

I've been scolded for what I post, but I didn't get us into this mess. I simply happen to be included in it.

A Loud Silence

It's been five and a half years since the pieces clicked into place and my life fell apart. (Yes, I do know that sounds like two opposite things, but it happened simultaneously.) It's taken this long for me to realize that complete silence doesn't help anyone, myself included. So I posted a meme on Facebook and got a little flack. 

One friend said, "This type of public outing is one of the problems with Facebook - very sad..." and another couple agreed. 

Thankfully, many others were supportive, with the biggest supporter saying, "How about if you don’t like the post then keep scrolling and keep your uninformed opinion to yourself. Because I am sure in order to make these kinds of comments that you are gravely uninformed on the situation."

Our situation, though heartbreaking, is far too common. It is the silence surrounding it that is most damaging. And it's not as though I put all my cards on the table... The most interesting thing to me about the reactions is that the meme is all about me with only a somewhat vague reference to the actions of the other individual. It really could have referred to any number of things. *sigh*

Sadly, there are repercussions to abuse and one of them is that the secrets won’t be silent forever. And that is almost as frightening to me as anyone.

A Brighter Path

2021 has been a deep and thought provoking year so far, not unlike the past few. I am learning to be Martha again. It's been a long, slow, and sometimes painful, but beautiful journey. I am entirely grateful to those who have loved and encouraged me along the way. 

Five years ago I never imagined myself in this position. I saw only darkness then, but today the darkness is gone. It isn't because I know what the future holds, but the One Who Holds the Future has proven Himself over and over again. It's still hard to imagine being alone (single) for the rest of my life, but I know that even if that is true, He will walk beside me all the way. Either way, He has a plan and I trust His plan is good.

On another note, my daughter's family experienced a heart warming reunion on Friday evening. Three years of waiting and finally an evening full of tears and warm embraces.

The Tapestry Has Two Sides

I've been watching adoption reunion videos this past week or so and feeling an incredibly real piece of the pain birth moms face when they decide to give their child away. When I first learned I was pregnant at seventeen, I had no clue what would happen to my baby. The only thing I knew for certain was that I would grant him the gift of life. I didn't know if I would be granted the gift of keeping him, and I can still feel the pangs of panic deep inside when I remember the thoughts of letting my baby go. No knife ever cut so deep into my heart. I am forever grateful for the gift he is, for our life together, and for the man he has become. Jim, you are loved more than words can tell.

 

This is my brother Dan. When I was a little girl I thought being adopted was the best thing in the world, except I wasn't adopted. My mom often told the story of the night a six day old baby was placed in their arms, how they'd had to borrow clothes, diapers, and bottles because his arrival was so unexpected. The story was amazingly wonderful, but it only told one side of the story. When I considered placing my own unborn child for adoption, the heartache of my brother's birth mom became painfully obvious. "Don't you want him?" my mother had asked, and she had answered, "Yes, but I have nothing to offer him." 

 

Years after my brother's passing, I took my own mind back in time and grieved my own loss of him. Although I knew he loved me, we had never been close. Perhaps I had been just as much a source of competition for him as he had been for me. By the time we had something in common, our sons, he was too far away to reach, and then he was gone.

 

It wasn't until about 1998 that my experience with a teenage pregnancy and my brother's adoption story came together in an unexpected turn of events. A stranger in my town lost her father to cancer. My aunt had come upon the obituary in the local newspaper and shared it with my mom. The man's mother was still living, and she was my brother's birth mom. 

 

I remember mulling the information over in my mind, but I've forgotten exactly how it all played out. I knew there was a family out there missing my brother. I couldn't help them find him, but perhaps I could help give them answers. I don't remember how long I waited before making a connection. I do remember being scared to death, and shaking on my end of the phone.

 

The conversation resulted in us being able to share photos and stories with a sister who had been looking for her baby brother her entire life. She couldn't have known how brokenhearted I was for her, or how deeply I felt her pain and disappointment. I so wish I'd been able to give her more than stories and old photographs...

National Hugging Day and Elephants

 I didn't know it was National Hugging Day when I chose a different coffee mug this morning. I don't typically take this one out of the house because it's special and I don't want to break it, but since I felt so much like I needed a hug, I took this one. It was given to me by my friend Dan who always has a hug and word of encouragement for me when I see him. I haven't seen him now in several weeks, so I took a hug in my mug instead.

I saw the therapist this evening. We're a little off our usual schedule due to my changing work schedule and our new baby, but God has perfect timing and He knew the perfect day. The conversation eventually made its way to the elephant in the room.

"Does the elephant belong to you or someone else?" he asked, and I had to think a bit... I had the sudden realization that there is more than one elephant in our family gatherings. Perhaps an entire herd. (And I thought getting rid of one was difficult/impossible.) Do I bring the elephant along? Are the elephants already there? Can I give them names? If we name them, can we talk about them easier. Can we tame them if we name them? Would that make talking easier? 

Practicing vulnerability and honesty. It's a tough skill to learn after a lifetime of being guarded.

Today Was Better

 It was a better day. I didn't feel quite so emotional. Not so prone to tears as yesterday...

You know, some days hopelessness sets in and throws my heart and mind into despair. Yesterday was such a day. Something triggered that helpless, lonely feeling and the tears fell. The tears that God collects in His bottle. Today I took a chance and reached out to a friend who, true to form, sent back words of encouragement. A verbal hug of sorts, because we were too far away for the real thing, which is what I desperately needed yesterday. God is good.

Life is weird and truth is stranger than fiction. Kind of knocks me out of my rocker on occasion. (Yes, as a matter of fact, this grandma is totally off her rocker. Heck. I don't even know where my rocker is!)

Two of my little friends. She sits on her butt all day, hasn't even tried to crawl, and he is on a mission to explore every inch of the baby room, even if he has to crawl over her to get there. Ha ha!

Because

Deep inside I know why my heart is hurting. I let myself get attached.

Wait and Trust

 He heals the brokenhearted
    and binds up their wounds.  

Psalm 147:3

I keep trying, but I don't do "alone" very well. I'm not sure what the trigger is tonight, but the wounds are weepy. 

How did I get here? Well, that is a long and complicated story. Looking at the pieces is like dumping a 2000 piece puzzle on the dining room table. Parts of the picture are obvious, glaringly so. Some of them so glaring that I find myself angry and frustrated at things that happened 40 years ago. But I can't change them and so there is no point in going there unless it is to understand the present.

The lost feeling is the most difficult to soothe. I think of my own mom who lived in my house for three and a half years. There were moments when I wanted to gather her into my arms, but some invisible force prevented me... Those painful past moments. The wall between us. The wall I couldn't scale.

It's late. The house is dark and still, and my heart is aching again. I'm feeling empty inside. I ask God why, but He only replies with "wait and trust." Waiting is hard. So very hard.

More Mystery Solving

 This afternoon I again went to visit my friend Gail at her cottage. We walked down to the water and scoured the rock shore for beach glass, she searching for large pieces, and I picking up crumbs. Tiny bits of glitter on the shore; clear, white, amber, green, and cobalt blue. 

I sat directly on the rocks as I searched the shore, scooching over every so often, picking bits of glass from the stones, and once in a while getting up to look from a different perspective. We'd started at the far east end of the beach and worked our way toward the opposite end, dropping whatever we found into plastic bags.

I'd already reached the other side when I put my hand on my back pocket to check my phone, but my pocket was empty. I was certain my phone was back in my car and didn't worry. It wasn't until we were on our way back when I remembered I'd had my phone inside Gail's cottage before we'd headed to the beach. Maybe I'd left it in her bathroom...  Nope.

I told Gail I'd lost my phone, and headed back to the beach to look for it. I didn't worry that someone else had picked it up. Holland's Cove's a private little beach, tucked into a small cove, and there weren't many people there today, just a few women sitting in lawn chairs toward the western edge.

It was a short walk. I said a quick prayer as I started across the rocks toward the water, and there on the shore was the biggest piece of "beach glass" I'd ever found! (It was actually my phone.)

Pictures are from this evening's jaunt to the park in Pultneyville. Gail and I bought sandwiches at the deli and ate them in the park. The lake was smooth and calm again.

* I lost my phone last week too, while my sisters and I were on our way to Ithaca. I'd had it when we stopped halfway to use the potty, and when we got to our second potty stop half an hour or so later (It was the coffee...), it was missing. I looked around in my car and saw nothing. Rachel called me and we couldn't hear anything, but her service is spotty.  I thought Priscilla should try, and if someone answered, we would know it was in the convenience store in Ovid. If successful, we could call Laurie (Priscilla's SIL) and see if she would retrieve it for me, but when Priscilla called my phone, we heard it ringing. It had slipped under my seat and was hiding.

I'm okay, friends. I'm really okay. Doing fabulous and enjoying the life with which God has blessed me. He is so very good.

LIttle Bits of Heaven

It's been a "God Week" in so many ways and I need to collect those bits and pieces before I forget and they are lost to the sands of time.

* I was alone on Sunday afternoon and took a ride to Williamson in search of elderberries. I have a friend looking to make a pie and thought maybe I could help. I know where some trees grow, but the people I knew no longer live there. Suffice it to say I did not find any, but I did throw up an out loud prayer. "Lord, can you help me find some elderberries?" I did this once before, years ago with raspberries. That time God smiled and gave me blackberries instead, all along the back corner of our property. I'd never known they were there. This time he answered too, through an online friend who told me her mother has some. They will be ripe in about two weeks.

* Tuesday evening, while Hannah was gone to work, I took a ride to Webster Park and walked along the shore of Lake Ontario. I sat on a log, looked through the pebbles along the beach, and made a small figure. My "Stone Age Boyfriend." He's a rocker, can you tell? As I stood back to take in the sunset, I heard a voice call my name (again, like on Saturday). There was my Divorce Care group friend Heather coming toward me. (She has been such a special gift.) We shared a hug (Yes, even in the midst of "the sickness" we need to the love and affection of friends.) and I was reminded again just how much my Father in heaven loves and cares for me.

* It was Thursday when I responded to a Facebook post and received a reply in the form of a private message from one of my coworkers who hasn't yet returned to work. We find ourselves on opposite sides of an issue yet were able to have a careful, loving conversation while taking a closer look at the other perspective. Neither one of us went away feeling hurt, invalidated, or rejected by the exchange, but quite the opposite. I listened and heard her perspective and found I could respect what she was feeling, and I felt heard and appreciated for mine. Listening with love is so important. (That is not us, just two friends on the shore.)

* I overslept Thursday morning and had 15 minutes to get ready for work. Ha ha! I skipped the shower and pulled my hair into a ponytail, washed my face, and made my coffee before heading out the door.

* Several times this week I've heard God's prompting to begin to put my story on paper. It is a story that needs to be shared in the proper circumstances, yet a story hard to pen. I believe God intends to redeem the broken pieces of our lives in beautiful ways. In my own times of deep despair, I longed for someone who understood the brokenness of my heart and, in His time God provided that friend. It is time for me too to be that friend to another broken mom and the only way she will find me is if I share. Please pray for me in this area as I need to be wise in the process, and thank you so much for your prayers.

* In times of great blessing, come times of defeat as well. An incident this morning has left me slightly off emotionally and the weekend has just begun. I've learned enough in the past five years to help me move beyond but not one of us has perfected this thing we call relationship and I know I have work to do too.