Oh, nostalgia...

There’s a strip of houses in this town that makes me think of Iowa. Their structure, their design, their look and feel- it reminds me of the home I thought I was going to make there. It reminds me of the life I wanted to build there- the structure, the design, the look and feel I thought I wanted for my life. And sometimes, on rainy days in March, like the rainy days I spent there two years ago, I think of it. I can’t believe it’s been two years.

I remember countless moments in Iowa, staring out the borrowed room’s window, living with practical strangers, who graciously brought me into their lives, feeling completely lost and unaware of how to proceed with my life.

So much has changed, but still the irony that the town I live in reminds me of Iowa, is not lost on me. Sometimes when I take a turn a certain way, and if the sun is just right, it’s almost like I’m there. It’s almost like I’m in that other world.

I remember days where I would lie down and stare up at the ceiling, wondering how on earth I had made decisions that had led me there. Sometimes, when I’m in the exact position, I can almost feel like I’m there. That the life I know I live is that life.

And the other irony is that I had a choice- a second chance to make that life my life. And I didn’t take it. There is no empirical reason; there is no concrete understanding of why I didn’t. I simply knew it was not the life I was supposed to have. God’s answer was loud and clear. Even though it sometimes feels like I’m there, even if sometimes I want to be there, I know that I’m supposed to be here. Here, which is about as far from Iowa as a person can get.

So… on rainy days in March, I think of being there. I think of the time I spent there- the incredible memories that were made despite the horror that was my life at the time. I think of the people there- the ones who asked no questions and accepted me and my mess- and who taught me how to love again, and how to find God, after a lifetime of not understanding him.  I think of being there and the dog I grew to love. I think of the yard and cockleburs. I think of learning to mow and the sad little garden we tried to start. I think of the weird day we had that was almost 90 degrees.  On rainy days in March, I think of being there. I think of the many tears shed. I think of the trips back and forth to Kansas City. My heart is filled with memories. I think of the burn pile and the radioactive center. And for a moment… I’m there.  There… with the ditch lined gravel roads, the church with the fantastic pastor who accepted me, the person who used to love me and all of it.

Forgive my ramblings… my nostalgia which I’m sure will offend… but it is simply that. A trip in my memory of the life I had there- though it was only short months, it feels like a vast lifetime. The impression living in Iowa made on me changed me forever. And I will never forget it. Even... while I make a life... here.

"She" 21 March 2010

I wrote this a little over a year ago. It was a portrait of how I felt at the time. It was very interesting to see how some things are different and how I have grown, but how I am still struggling to some degree with the same things a year later. Interesting... Let me know what you think.

I remember a girl with dreams. I remember she loved to lose herself in the unreal. I remember she could think up any story to tell anyone. I remember those visions that embraced her like déjà vu from a scene she’d already seen. I remember the photos that crystallized her remembrances of him. I remember the weight of the pen in her hand and the longing that she always carried in her eyes, as she drifted to that far off unreachable place. And that place, that place is now overgrown with weeds. The path is so faint from lack of use that the tread is barely visible. The way there is scarce and like seasons that change, the past always looks easier than it was. And now, as the sleepless nights invade again, I think of that girl once more, hoping that I can find the answers she once looked for and found in the song of her heart and the words on a page.

She left him because she had to. She left him, but her heart carried with her so many regrets and unfulfilled wishes. He had been her whole world. He had been the one who was supposed to care for her for forever. She had expected so much of him that he always felt like he was falling short. And when she realized her demands were such an affliction to him, it was already too late. He had isolated himself so far from her; she could not penetrate the fortress in which he had barricaded himself. She stood on the outside for so long, chipping away at the mortar, only to have him come back in the middle of the night and erect another layer of the wall. Day after day, she tried, until she was so exhausted and so broken from all the pieces of herself she had lost while trying to reach him, she bowed her head and left, knowing he would never change.

She was unwilling to watch her life pass her by, when she saw he had no intention of changing his ways. Does that make her selfish? She still asks herself that each day.  Does that mean she truly did not love him? Or did she love them both enough to realize that they were not good for each other? She sees her emotional health now and realizes that she could never be in that place if she had stayed in her marriage. Some days she thinks she still loves him, in a little corner of her heart. It’s all she will give him. He was after all her husband. But then she thinks the only reason she thinks she feels this emotion is because a small part of her believes she deserves to be treated badly and only expects that from men in general. It is a bad habit she brought from her childhood into her adulthood.

She thinks of love- every day. She is restless- every day. She aches for the rest of her life- every day. Every day the drum of tomorrow beats in her heart, ferociously like a tribal member exiling a rebel. Every day she hears the callings of her future, beckoning her to come to them. But every day, she waits, for she does not know what her impending fate looks like. 

A big part of her wants to be healthy, but just as big a part is scared to trust in a God who tells her it will only take time. Time means endless moments alone, with only her cats for company. And then, the drum begins to sound again… And for the first time in her life, she doesn’t have a plan. She doesn’t know what the next step is. She doesn’t know how to move forward. She has reconstructed life completely- well not really her. She’s had a lot of help.

And now… as she stands in the wind, listening to the drum and watching the hands on the clock move slowly forward, she wonders.  What does God have for her? She begs him once again to fill the void in her heart that threatens to overtake her daily. She pleads with him to forgive her unbelief, praying that God in his sovereignty will show her the path that is so hidden from her view. She knows he will always provide for her, because he is God and he has promised her that.

But she still is hobbled by fears and doubts. She still aches for a love. She still hates the fact that she has no mate. She is still overcome with loneliness every day. She is still threatened by the darkness that terrorizes her. Her doubts and fears will be her undoing. She is afraid of failing at life. She is terrified of being lost in the dark and never being seen for the beauty she longs to show. And when she sees no light in the darkness, the words stop flowing, the path seems all the more dangerous, and the pounding of the drum grows ever quieter.

And quietly, in the dark, a presence takes her hand and leads her forward, knowing that the drum will start to sound- not the beat of a restless soul, but the song He has written for her. The path is illuminated step by step, so that she walks by faith, her only assurance is the guide beside her, shining the light on the next stage of life, bit by bit. And in that light, that glows ever brightly on the places she most needs it, her confidence slowly returns, and the demons return to the dark. The peace saturates like the white glow all around her, permeating to her very core. She still feels the restlessness; she still feels the ache; the tears still loom on the horizon, but she is protected. The storm in her heart still rages on, but she knows, even if she can’t fully believe, that the master she has chosen will calm tempest that vies for her spirit. She has to believe in Him, for he is the only hope she has left. 

-Written 21 March 2010

Second Chances

Sometimes, I just write to write. Sometimes, I have no idea what I'll write about. But I've found when I feel like I should write, nothing else will work, until I write. And it's somewhat of a blessing, to be able to write. I've had days, months, when I couldn't write. So, to be desiring to write, means I should write.

I couldn't tell you what the sermon was about today. I was distracted. I wanted to listen. But I was distracted. Caught up in my own world. Trying desperately to turn my heart to God, only to find myself focused on that and a million other things, like the fact that I had chocolate caught in my pantyhose on the back of my calf and had no idea how it got there, like the fact that I had to pee every 20 minutes this morning, like the fact that my cousin was on her way to go on a blind date, which was in fact a farce, and she was meeting me. And... so... I couldn't tell you what the sermon was about.

Sunday is my favorite day of the week. Honestly. I think people my age think I'm totally cracked when I say that. I love going to church. I love the fellowship. I love the fact that when I sing, the whole world fades away and my heart is totally God's. I love the fact that when I sing and the swell of the piano and strings reverberates in my ears, I'm transported to a place where only God and I exist. Does that mean I still met God today? If I have no idea what the sermon was about, but I still gave God glory through the music?

This weekend has been one of quieting my heart and reflecting- of coming to peace. It's still elusive, if you were wondering. But I feel as though I've recharged- somewhat. Things are still up in the air. There's still plenty I don't understand. I'm still restless. I still have a plethora of unanswered questions. I still feel ill-prepared for the week ahead. Disconcerted. But attempting to trust. Feebly.

I'm glad God is a God of second chances... of third and fourth and a million second chances. I'm glad that if he gets disappointed or frustrated by my lack of faith, by my lack of trust, by my lack of anything but mistrust and doubt, he still is a God of second chances. I'm glad he continues to offer grace and mercy when I'm discouraged for no tangible reason. I'm glad he continues to offer hope when I struggle to understand. I'm glad he is love when I'm not sure how to love myself, others or even him. I'm glad. 

"If you could only see what I see," says the Lord...

"'If you could only see what I see,' says the Lord, 'you would trust me a whole lot more and worry a whole lot less.'"

A friend struggling as her husband lives apart from her and her five children for months, for the sake of a job.
Snow falling on the first day of spring.
A friend without a job who now seems happier without the stress, but is unemployed.
A mother and father who don't understand the decision to be happy that their grown daughter makes.
A dog who opens doors and escapes into the winter-wonderland.
A relationship that ended on the first day of Lent. ("What will I give up for Lent, Lord?" "Him.")
An apology in response to temptation. ("Maybe you weren't the one God was testing.")

"If you could only see what I see,' says the Lord, 'you would trust me a whole lot more and worry a whole lot less.'"

I don't understand how God works and as life continues on, I'm not sure I'm meant to. The way He works is so different than the way I think, so I'm not sure. Is this because I'm fallen? Is my faith simply being stretched and grown as my ways of thinking and acting change, as I become more aware of how God works? All I know is that in many situations recently, I have the strange feeling of only knowing part of the story, seeing only some of the solution. Part of me, (the recovering control freak) is annoyed by this power play. Some nights, I rant and rave at God in my head because I don't understand. Some days, I get so angry because I don't see the whole picture. I don't know what he's up to. I still don't trust him. I feel like I'm on this spider web, stuck on one tenuous sticky thread. I can't really see the rest of the web and how all the strands come together to make up the whole. But God does. God sees the whole web. He sees how we are all interconnected and even when I might feel stuck, he's not a big giant spider who is going to eat me. (yup, I went there.)

I mean, if you think about it, my lack of trust is about as absurd as thinking God is a big spider who will eat me in its web. The One who created me, loves me, knows every part of my being, the scared place, that spot in my soul that I don't allow anyone to see (that everyone has)- he knows it. And what's more, he loves me because of who he is.

"If you could only see what I see..." I wish I could see. I wish I could understand. But something tells me, I'm not supposed to. Not right now, at least. My trust isn't strong enough. And God is God. He doesn't have to explain to me. But he is full of mercy and grace and he can say, "Please just trust me that I know what I'm doing- and stop worrying already!"

So, that is my prayer: That my friend who misses her husband and the husband that misses his wife and kids, could see what God is doing and that soon, the house will sell, a new house will be discovered, new schools will start and new church and friends found... That spring is under all the snow, waiting to bring forth it's glorious newness when the time is right... That the right job is waiting... That the grown daughter is happy and has found love again, even if those who are closest to her can't see it... That the dog... yeah... there's no prayer for the dog... That the relationship will move forward to friendship... That the apology will bring continued honesty between two people... and most of all... That God will be trusted to bring about the results he knows are best... even if it's not what I understand or think is best at all.

Moving On...

There is a stark contrast in the time of moving on from a marriage versus a relationship. The memories of "getting over it" with the marriage still sometimes linger. It's been months- years... and yet, just a few days have passed and I already feel my heart healing and moving forward to the future. And sometimes, I long to cling to the heartbreak and the familiarity of the past. And I realize, I just can't do that. Life isn't about looking behind. It's about looking ahead and around. I don't want to "get over it," but I know that I must. To give up one of the first very real glimpses of true happiness I've had in a long time has been hard. To realize that trusting another means that there is a very real possibility I will get hurt, has been a difficult lesson to accept. I always knew it and made it so I would never have to yield to it. But now, as I have promised myself I would learn to trust God, I know it means trusting others as well. It means understanding that people make choices that might not be what I want. And it means letting go of my desire to control and simply being okay with the fact that things don't always go the way I think they should. Or the way I want them to. And that in and of itself has been a very good thing to learn and consent to.

Winter is fading. My soul is coming out of hiding. With the sun, the warmth and the more frequent glimpses of heaven, I feel like I can breathe again.

"The hardest part of moving on is not looking back."

Dreams

“There’s a fine line between doing what we’re meant to do, and doing what we think we should be doing with our lives. Only God can show us the way in which we should walk to fulfill what we are destined for. It is good to dream, but not all dreams are meant to come true. There comes a point when you have to stop dreaming about certain things, and do something practical with your life–to do what you are meant to do.”   Christopher S. Esty

Trust and Let It Go

Ahhh... trust. I often find that at the other end of trust is doubt. So great are my insecurities that I find myself plagued by self-doubt. So great is my lack of trust, that I instinctively recoil at it. I have gotten so used to second guessing myself that I find myself caught between two worlds. The one world is the world where I used to know how to do everything. I orchestrated life. I controlled emotion, love, friendship- I was a master manipulator. I never felt an emotion I didn't want or couldn't explain away. And I didn't live. The other world is this new, scary world where I know next to nothing. Everything has changed. And I see life through a completely different lens in this world. In this world, I am afraid I feel too much; I worry too much; I ache for a life I think I'm made for, regardless of the reality that I might not be emotionally ready for it. But I'm living.

Every situation, emotion, person or relationship is caught between these two worlds. Is the best way to clench decisions more closely or to let it go? Just let it go and let God have his way with it. To figure out how to fit each situation, each emotion, each person, each relationship into the correct parameters of life is a foreign behavior. I constantly find myself judging whether or not I am manipulating or simply experiencing life and allowing God to work.

"Are you asleep?"

"No, I was praying."

"For what?"

"That I could just let it go..."

And that is still my prayer- for all the situations, for all the emotions, for every person and every relationship. It's not anything I can do or say or be. I can only allow God to work through me. And be thankful. Be thankful I'm alive. Be thankful I'm a child of God. For I know this much is true... even when the world tilts and feels as though it's axis has shifted, I can simply let it go.