Spiritside

Stopping to smell the roses, er, grass

There are some things about my health I've never posted about.  The first thing a person has to know is that grief and trauma take a huge toll on the body, so if there are any underlying issues they will become not so underlying after a traumatic event.  Grieving in and of itself can almost be an illness.  It causes the body to hurt, drains energy, affects the adrenal system.  For me, it's almost like Bi-Polar disease.  One moment I'm flying, energized, taking care of everyone and happy to do so, the next I am paralyzed by sadness, unable to get up let alone take care of someones desire or need for say, dinner, or a clean towel.  My belief, however flawed, has always been that my body has no happy medium, so I'm either going strictly on adrenaline and caffeine, or crashing from the adrenal rush.  It's the fight or flight instinct on a daily basis.  I believe it would be that way regardless of 9/11 because of biology, but 9/11 caused it to escalate.  I also have a long list of physical ailments that I choose not to spend to  much time talking about, because growing up all I can really remember about my mom is her talking daily to her friends about whatever new pain, illness, or disease she had.  She spent more time going to and from doctors then any other activity I can recall.  Even when she would come and see me there was always at least one trip to the Emergency Room.  So I don't talk about what ails me.  But things do, energy robbing physical things, that cause pain and make it impossible for me to do the things I used to take for granted.  I have help cleaning the house, not because I don't want to but because I could never keep up with it otherwise.  I keep my commitments down to a minimum, not because I don't long to be more involved at church or social activities, but because I have to have enough energy at the end of the school day to pick up my kids, drop off carpool, do homework with, feed, clean up after (yes, they have to help and I believe they should anyway) keep up with general day to day stuff.  Some times other things are a luxury that I don't always get to enjoy.

Where am I going with this?  Well....I haven't stopped.  I need to stop.  I need to be able to enjoy some of the amazing beauty in our world, talk to amazing people, and really importantly, be alone and still and quiet.  Even our Lord needed time alone.  God says Be still and know that I am God.  I have not been listening to my body because so much has to be done all the time and I am alone in the doing.  I fear stopping sometimes, because the mess that will be created simply by skipping a day or two will overwhelm me.  I am already overwhelmed.  I'm overwhelmed with how bad I feel some days.  I'm overwhelmed with how much work I need to do to make my home the way I need it to be, smooth and organized.  I'm overwhelmed with emotions, all sorts, and feelings, that go up and down on any given day, to the point that simply feeling is exhausting.  Yet deep down I long for joy.  It's amazing to me that no matter what we go through, what we suffer, our spirits still desire joy, peace, life, the Giver of life.  I do long to stop, take some pictures, buy a bouquet of Daisy's, watch a comedy and FEEL GOOD.  Mostly I'm afraid.  I'm afraid that if I don't, if I keep up the pace I am right now, I will forget to remember that life is a gift not a chore, that my daughters need me strong even if that means hearing "no", that by ignoring my physical needs and limitations I could one day have no choice but to live with nothing else but.

Just Wondering

I have noticed a certain pattern in my life.  When life gets really busy, planning for a vacation on top of regular life busy, my time alone with God seems to be the thing that suffers the most.  When this happens. I find myself spitting out spiritual cliches without any real meaning, or starting to doubt.  Not God, but myself, my choices, the things that used to bring peace.  Of course!  How can anything bring peace when the only way to have any at all is to be in communication with Him?  Peace, at least for me, doesn't always come from doing right things versus wrong things, but from where I am standing in light of Him.  When I pull away, I am sad, lonely, angry.  All the things I'd be all the time had He not shed His grace on me. 

Getting back in the groove is hard sometimes.  Especially when the church I attend has become a difficult place to go and feel great about everything.  It's a time of questioning for me, and I'm anxious to be settled. 

So I guess what I'm endlessly posting about here is the fact that the cycle of regular time away with God is my peace, I haven't had it so I have none, I have none so everything feels funky, everything feels funky so I spin my wheels.....and on goes the cycle until I get on me knees again.  I wish someone would come up behind me and give me a good push!!!

And oh ya, I was just wondering if this happens to anyone else out there?

Thanks for listening!

I Really Wish I knew Something

I know one thing for sure, and that is I exist not knowing very much of anything.  The frustration this knowledge brings makes me cringe, grip my face in my hands and scream.  Because I'm not the kind of person who believes ignorance is bliss.  I can't stand that I don't focus, commit myself to a single way of thinking of being, to "know".  I change daily.  What I think I know on Monday will be different on Tuesday.  One day I think I know what to do to better serve my role as parent, the next everything I thought I was doing right ends up either not being right, thus causing endless self doubt, or I see the situation differently and change my mind.  It's hard in life to always feel like I don't get what others seem to get so effortlessly.

It becomes scary when it starts to involve my spiritual life.  I've been blessed in that I've sat at the feet of some of our great modern teachers.  Equally as in love with God, equally preaching a righteous word, but not always in agreement.  Which led me to believe that even among one group of people, who share a belief in a specific thing, there will be many differences.  I know how obvious this sounds.  How many denominations are there in Christianity?  How many people who love the Lord with the same vigor believe totally different things?  Who is right?  Who is wrong?  Even with scripture as the plumb line there can still be differences in fundamental beliefs.  I've met folks who love God with all their heart, the same God I love, and believe that without baptism one is bound for Hell.  I've met their counterparts who see baptism as an outward expression of our changed nature, obedience, but having nothing to do with a person landing in Hell.  And I've heard both pull verses and believe that they had scriptural proof for their ideal.  Everyone single person I've met believes themselves to be right. 

I have a long, long list of things I do not know.  I don't know how to be a widow.  I don't know why I am a widow and my children fatherless.  I don't know why I'm lonely one day and can't muster the energy to get together with  a friend.  I don't know why I allow Jessica to anger me when I am the mom and make the rules.  I don't know what I'm looking for.  I don't know if my need for spirituality will lead me down a dangerous road, or if on my quest for spiritual wisdom I will be right where God wants me.  I really don't know if every single person has to believe the exact same thing in order to have salvation.  What about those beautiful souls who have changed the way they worship, but still worship?  If everyone is supposed to believe the exact same thing, than are we never supposed to question?  If so, then why did God place in us the need to question?  Can I love God differently then you?  I don't know how to reach my kids regarding their dad's death.  I don't know what to do with my sadness.  I don't know how to meet people who will accept me where I am without trying to change me.  See....on and on and on it goes.  Not everything I used to believe is what I believe still. 

Maybe it's good to not know.  It certainly opens doors that were closed while I was so sure I had the answers.  It's certainly humbled me and caused me to love those who are different, when before I would have judged them for their differences. 

But there are some real negatives.  People never know what to make of me.  Because I'm comfortable saying and doing things that someone who had really strong convictions wouldn't.  I'm fine being in discovery mode and doing things differently.  It's just that even with being comfortable, I long for the feeling of community that comes with aligning ones self with a group of like minded people.  I don't have it in me to fake it, and so while I consider myself in discovery mode I also see myself as desperate at times.  I have reached out to total strangers with the hope of finding someone who might actually understand where I'm coming from, or at least not assume that I'm wrong if I'm different.

I'm not sure how much sense this really makes.  I've been thinking a lot about these things as I read all the wonderful blogs, get to know the hearts of the ones doing the writing.  I find a part of myself in every site I frequent.  I comment from the heart of my desire to make friends, connect, discover like minded and not like minded people who are open to friendships.  I think when you have your life shaken up the way I did at the age I did it makes you question, questioning makes you seem young/immature, and not the same person that those who loved you thought you were, so you end up having to start over.  So maybe that's it, maybe spiritually, emotionally, I'm back at a place where I was when I was first discovering myself a little more.  It can just be a little lonely.

Misplaced

Hope is a double edged sword.  In hoping I am made vulnerable, and that vulnerability has frightened me since the first time I discovered, with great disillusionment, my mother was not perfect.  In fact, my mother was ill, mentally and physically, and so was not able to care for me.  I spent my childhood hoping for a "normal" mom.  One who'd come to eat lunch with me at school, one who would drop me off and pick me up from school so I didn't have to envy the other children whose moms were always there.  Mine was perpetually absent.  When she was there I never knew which side of her I'd get.  The angry mom, the detached, the drunk, the "in love".

When my husband died all the hope I had for my life began spilling out slowly, like a reverse IV dripping out of me instead of in.  It never dawned on me, no matter how many times we made arrangements for the horrid "what ifs" that I would actually believing them.  And you make plans that focus on the business of the "what ifs", but there is no way to factor in the emotional.  We may take care to choose guardians for our kids, decide what the best thing to do with the house, but you can't know till you're there that you won't care about the house.  All the things I hoped for were blown up, literally.  Growing old with him, raising our kids together, the phone calls I would wait for, the trips we planned.  Gone.  I felt betrayed in ways I can't even fathom.  I was supposed to have this life, wasn't I?  Yes, I know loving God doesn't mean that things like this will never happen, but I was confident that hoping for something as basic as growing old with the one I love was a safe bet.

Now I know there is only one safe bet.  Christ is it.  I don't mean He is the one, la de dah, but He Is The One, the only thing that can be counted on.  Any time I place my hope anywhere else, even places I consider worthy, I'm reminded of this.  I have hoped for love, only to loose it when hatred and man's free will imploded.  I have hoped for friendship, only to discover that I was always seemingly letting someone down or being let down.  I hoped for family, and with my daughters God has answered this prayer, but I have no extended family to speak of, and Lenny's family caused us such damage I'm still trying to undo it.  But Christ has never failed me.  He chose me, for whatever reason, and I can place my hope in Him without fear.  His grace, His compassion, His Spirit are always there. 

I wish I could say my joy is complete because of this, but the loss of what I hoped for stings still, and while my head understands the magnitude of Christ as my hope my heart still yearns.  There are moments of real hopelessness, I can't see a future so radically altered from the one I wanted.  But I do try.  I promise I do.  It's easier some days, but never easy.  I am in the crawling stages of my faith again, making the things I know into truths I live.  Because I know where my hope needs to be I work at living that out.  But there are so many "wrong" hopes, or areas of misplaced hopes to unlearn.  One day I believe my joy will be complete in Him, even if it's not until I'm actually with Him.  Knowing that is the beginning,I guess, of this new hope.

On The Fence

I love taking pictures at the place my 12 year old rides horses.  I have files filled with images from every season there, with the hope of someday making an album for us and her instructor with all these shots.   I have more of this fence than anything, which I think has some deeper meaning that I haven't quite deciphered.  This fence runs along a dirt road that the owners of the stable don't want us walking or photographing.  I do anyway.  I mean, I have paid thousands over the couple of years my child has been riding here and have certainly proven trustworthy with their horses as I've never poisoned one, stolen one, or let one out while no one was looking.  So if I walk 1/4 of a mile of road for a pretty pic I don't feel too bad. 

I guess I'm just rambling.  I wish I had a better eye for taking pictures.  My uncle does it for a living in L.A., and I have such admiration for artists.  To be able to create something or recreate it in a way that blesses others is an amazing gift.  I know, and I'm not being self depricating here, that I truly don't have that sort of talent.  I enjoy it, but don't possess it.  I would take any prayer anyone wanted to offer on behalf of this issue, since all gifts are of God, and maybe it's not to late for Him to give me the sort of eye or mind that can take what is floating around inside my head and heart and do something with it that brings Him glory.  Or makes someone smile.  Or helps someone know they are not alone in this life. 

On a last and serious note, I do need prayer for two very sad situations.  First is my nephew, who has RSV at six months of age and is just so very sick that  no one really knows for sure what will happen.  The second is for two teenage girls whose mom recently perished in a car accident.  They are estranged from their father, and it looks like my friend is going to be adding them to her already full house.  They have six children there already, so this will bring the grand total up to eight, with five being between 12-14 years old.  So the prayers here need to be many.  For my friend who lost her best friend, for the daughters who lost their mom, and for the situation itself.  My friends are open to adopting these girls into their family, and trust that if it's what God has for them He will handle the details.  But no one in the wake of all this grief and pain anticipates this being an easy transition for anyone.  I will keep ya all updated, and if you believe in prayer or have prayer chain I'd appreciate the thought.

What I Heard

Nine Eleven.  Some highlights.

Standing at the grave of my husband, my father in law's hands on my shoulders for comfort.  "I'll miss Lenny" he says.  "Of course", I answer, "we all will".  "He was my favorite though" he says.  Perplexing to me.  Can one with five children actually have a favorite?  "Why" I ask.  "He was most like me" he answers.  I stand alone for a minute to ponder how untrue this is.  My father in law cheated, made fun of his kids and though was wealthy beyond words never aided his kids through college.  My husband never would have lived that way.

"I miss sleeping with my husband's warm body right next to me".  My "friend" informs me she's always known I was a sex addict.    Apparently enjoying a physical relationship with my husband made me abnormal.  "What makes you think that?"  Since my husband's death I had spent a great deal of time with a man who was assigned to help me through the red tape of milatary death.  We would walk, and sit and talk, and yes, he held my hand when I needed the support.  Four days after my husband's death and people already assumed I was sleeping with him.  "He's married to an amazing woman, and has two young kids" I say in disbelief.  Not to mention in that much shock one's body cannot function.  "Yes", my friend agrees, "that's what makes what your doing so awful".  "Can't you just be alone?"  Excuse me, I think, my husband of thirteen years is dead, does it get much more alone than that?

Standing in my living room after one of the many services, my mother in law informs me that she knows there will be money, and she doesn't understand why it comes to me and my kids.  "You don't have his blood in your veins" she tells me.  "Our kids do", but that's not enough to satisfy her.  "Well", I begin to explain, "we are his daily life.  We have loss of companionship issues, loss our bread winner".  "What about my loss of companionship?" she asks.  Hhmmm, I think.  He saw you once a year for the last ten years.  I guess that can compare to the life we made. 

The pain of these events taught me alot about myself.  I didn't see any of them coming, and my heart still breaks in the retelling.  But I trust God is good, I trust that healing will occur, and I know that whatever was lost to me in those days will be restored.  Thanks for listening.

Trying to Find the Joy

I hate it when I'm in these dry spells spiritually.  The one thing I've been able to rely on is the change that happens in my heart and spirit when I'm in the posture of worship.  Singing, praising, reading, talking, it just doesn't  matter.  The wild mysteries of God excite me at times the way new love does.  But what happens when it doesn't?  I've been through enough spiritual draughts to know they don't last, and that it usually has more to do with my own life than God's silence.  I know many believe God stays quiet, or holds back miracles and answer's to prayers when we have sin in our lives, but at the risk of being scandalous I just haven't found this to be so.  I believe God hates sin, but He loves us, desires fellowship, and is graceful in a way we as humans cannot grasp because we are so petty.  We may withhold blessings in our smallness but God doesn't need to.  No, I believe my dry times have to do with mood swings, hormones, fatigue.  I think the death of my husband, my mother right after and the changes that both events brought have finally hit me.  Husband and motherless, I grope for a hand to hold for stability.  Broken of heart, I crave arms to hold me until the tears stop.  The one or two people I turn to in these weak, sad moments seem utterly bored with my pain.  Who will be there for the duration?  Does anyone understand that the duration will be the rest of my life?  Will no one sign on as a friend?  Yes it's tiresome to listen to another pain, yes it's hard to know that there's nothing that can be done for the one in such pain.  But those of us grieving in one form or another aren't even looking for someone to fix it, just someone to affirm our lives.  Someone to value us enough to suffer there own discomfort to walk through some of this mess with us. 

Yes I hate dry spells because He is all I have.  And if I can't feel Him right now, than I am truly alone.

Wishing on a Star

I look up at the vastness of the night sky and am compelled to make a wish.  I ponder all the wishes I made in the past.  Some were very selfish, the give me variety.  Some were desperate, times when we had no food or money for clothes.  Some were grand, to be used of God, to make a difference in the world.  During pregnancies I always wished for healthy babies, wisdom to be a good mommy.  My wishes are very different now.

I wish I could forgive.  I do.  I wish I could easily let go of the anger I have toward those who have hurt me.  Those who lied about me after my husband's death.  Those who felt it easier to believe the worst of me,  not give me the benefit of the doubt.  I wish I could see all people, all people, the way Jesus did.  How did He love those who hurt Him? 

Sometimes I wish I could forget how happy I was before the 9/11 attacks.  I wish I didn't remember how loved I felt.  I wish I didn't miss my husband, my life with him.  I wish my thoughts didn't conjure up images of what happened on his plane.  I don't want to have an image of what his last minutes must have been like.

And I wish I had one more chance to tell him how much I love him.