two years, and approaching the one year

Today marks the second full year I have been {his}...

We haven't had it very easy, we have wrestled and fought and struggled through our junk...but every day I see that he is perfect for me, God's very best.

He is patient with me, and kind. He carries the weight of so much so that I don't have to. He listens to me, like really listens, and offers wisdom... And he has walked with me through the most harrowing valley I have ever known... one which is approaching an anniversary as well.

The pain is less raw these days, less at the forefront of my thoughts. I am missing Dad, yes, and long to see him just once more, but I can feel that the sorrow is being restored to joy.

I was thinking, this morning, about the Scripture we had read at his funeral...

Psalm 27

 Of David.

The LORD is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life— of whom shall I be afraid?

    ² When evil men advance against me to devour my flesh, when my enemies and my foes attack me, they will stumble and fall.

    ³ Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then will I be confident.

   

 ⁴One thing I ask of the LORD, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple.

 

    ⁵ For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock.

    ⁶ Then my head will be exalted above the enemies who surround me; at his tabernacle will I sacrifice with shouts of joy; I will sing and make music to the LORD.

   

 ⁷Hear my voice when I call, O LORD; be merciful to me and answer me.

    ⁸ My heart says of you, Seek his face! Your face, LORD, I will seek.

    ⁹ Do not hide your face from me, do not turn your servant away in anger; you have been my helper. Do not reject me or forsake me, O God my Saviour.

 

    ¹⁰ Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me.

 

    ¹¹ Teach me your way, O LORD; lead me in a straight path because of my oppressors.

    ¹² Do not hand me over to the desire of my foes, for false witnesses rise up against me, breathing out violence.

   

 ¹³I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.

 

    ¹⁴ Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.

(NIVUK)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's just floored me, how the Lord has used this word to speak into my life over the last (almost) year. Yes, truly.... I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living (v. 13).

And so I give thanks; for this year, this journey that I didn't ask for, this man who has braved the barren valley with me...

This is how I am seeing the goodness of the LORD even still...

|| husband love

|| that smile of his

|| the snow capped peaks that I get to drive through each day
|| polite paws crossed
|| pretty blooms emerging all over lawn
|| a car that doesn't get stuck in snow
|| runny noses and little ones who need them wiped
|| snuggles with puppy
|| friends who read my words and encourage me to keep them coming
|| connections... the kinship of grief and loss
|| the ones who tenderly show me that they remember the one year
|| His peace, over and over again, His peace
|| His beauty here, now, and that by looking I can see it

on giving thanks

in joining with the many, many women practicing gratitude
inspired by her & her story
being transformed and healed through the looking...


i give you some glimpses of
my list... as it is this moment


|| evening light on water
|| a certain doggy all covered in white snowflakes
|| the leash that makes him a dream to walk and...
|| the treat that keeps him occupied


|| the knowing... how she can just know when i need an ear
|| friend time... always laughter
|| His provision in ALL things
|| a box of free apples
|| a sink full of dishes, because it means we have eaten
|| fridge full, cupboards stuffed


|| my home with him
|| deep love
|| that He teaches even through impossible seasons difficult with strife -- Yes, He teaches!


|| His peace
|| His grip on my life, on daddy's life
|| the healing that comes in the pain of reminiscing
|| "how great Thou Art"


|| the asking, "please speak to me through your Word"
|| the speaking
|| Christ the wisdom & power of God

|| the good conviction all the way through a sermon
|| a man's 'thanks so much' and what it means... a heart opening to God's people


|| "life is not an emergency" (-ann voskamp)... that I can slow...

|| black branch silhouette against cobalt skies
|| tiny twigs
|| salty beach breeze

a new year

2011 is here. It has been a while since I have had time to write.

Christmas was bittersweet. Seven days spent on the beach in the blazing Mexican sun, with my 'new' family -- my wonderful, warm, compassionate in-laws. It was a gift-trip, a Sabbath week, a time of grace given to us by my husband's incredibly generous grandparents. They are getting on in years, frail and fragile people, but so kind and I do feel like I am their's - their granddaughter, and loved.

Also awkward conversations that birthed insecurity and sadness, followed by tears alone in our hotel room in my husband's arms, but then grace. Grace upon grace, and good, encouraging conversations... Grace gives us room, room to heal, room to let go - grace gives me room to be myself.

Our time away was just what we needed. And I asked Him throughout if He would give us excitement, anticipation for coming home. He did.

What followed upon our return was a handful of really hard days. Call it a woman-thing, call it grief, call it stress... whatever it was, I was sad. I bawled for several hours one night, frustration and suffocation and sorrow and anger collided and left me in the fetal position. But my husband held me again, and let me cry, and told me we were going to be alright, that I have been hurt and so the wounds can tear open again with even a small thing. He is right.

I love him.

I am having better days, now. I love my job, my little buddy is a joy to work with and it is so rewarding to see him succeed. What a gift.

I am learning that it is okay to be vulnerable, and it is necessary in order to connect in community. I want to be a whole-hearted person. {Click the link and watch the video. It is worth the 20 minutes}

Already I have seen the answer to my prayer for a friend -- He has given many.

2011 is here, and I am here. I have a good Father who hears what I ask for even in the silly, back-of-my-mind desires, and speaks to me in ways that I can hear.

And all the time, grace.

Grace upon grace, and He sustains me.

christmas

My dad's birthday is on Christmas day.

Yep. It's true.

See the birthday balloons in the background?

That means however awful the holidays were going to be, multiply that by an impossible number and you'll get the what's-left-for-us-to-celebrate-anymore heartache that I am overwhelmed by often.

Perhaps it sounds insensitive, but I never thought I would be one of them: the ones who just can't do Christmas like everyone else because it hurts too much.

But now I am one of them. I miss my dad more than I even knew I could ever miss someone. I often find myself desperately looking for him, seeing a truck from a distance that looks like his (and sometimes with a driver who resembles him closely), going places I once went with him, wishing that just one more time, he could be there.

And Christmas is never going to be the same. I want to say that it won't ever be good again, but I am hoping.

I'm hoping that though the pain is so real, this will be redeemed.

The void left in my family. The destruction left in the wake of destruction. The hurtful words that have been spoken to us by those who should have spoken love & grace. The what's-left-for-us-to-celebrate-anymore heartache that hopefully, won't always overwhelm. The incredible abyss of loneliness, and the fear of community that keeps me from reaching out.

I'm holding on to my precious, valiant Jesus, hoping.

I am struggling, this is true. But I'm holding on, for dear life.

peace

I was at my church several weeks after that day for a fundraiser and my pastor made eye contact with me for a short moment. I was trying to mill about and keep busy, while pleading silently for someone - anyone - to ask me how I was.


You might know how that goes - wanting to be alone and to be noticed & cared for all at once.


He walked over and answered my silent pleading. "How are you doing?" he asked. I was standing with my sister, and so I looked at her, wondering if she would answer first so I could dig for words. My heart was so raw, but looking ahead somehow, hopeful. I think I answered something akin to "so-so".


Then he asked us what he could pray for, for us.


"Peace," I answered.


It has been such a fleeting thing over the last eight months.


But I think I have just realized it.


I have been so awful to be around. I'm convinced I inheirited my dad's restless nature, and that thing - whatever it was - that made him on edge all the time, and hard on people. I get nasty if I am under stress, I get resentful if I feel under-appreciated. And wow, I blame other people for everything that goes wrong. It has been the root of dishonour and disunity in our home, in my relationship with my husband and our housemate. I have allowed things to get ugly.


One morning a few days ago, I read this:

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." John 14:27

My heart softened as I was reading His words, His promise to me.


My peace I give to you.


I've allowed my heart to become troubled. But really, to be able to extend grace to those around me (which perhaps is a part of the issue here, I have forgotten how to give grace), I don't need anything more than what He has already promised and given. His peace.


His peace in the midst of chaos... dirty dishes, dirty floor, dirty bathroom, dirty laundry.


His peace despite the profound pain of never knowing why my dad did what he did.


His peace as a balm for my very broken heart.


And so, I ask for it again & again & again.


Will you join me?

acknowledged

After a conversation with a friend on frustration and alone-ness in this season, she passed on to me a post from To Write Love on Her Arms from November 20.

November 20 was National Survivors of Suicide Day.

Along with the post, she had found a list of resources on suicide, way more than I have ever been able to find. And at the top of the list were several online support groups for survivors.

Sometimes I feel like hiding what has happened - talking about it is just too huge and painful and awful. Perhaps that is because almost anyone I can potentially talk to has never lived it.

But somehow, the thought of opening up to others who know this grief, it came as a relief.

To know I am not alone, that my family is not alone, that our grief is different and that's okay... it helps.

And what Reese Butler says in that post..."The greatest honor and tribute I could give [her] was to become as healthy and productive as possible and use the power of that loss to help others not suffer the same fate. Loss can trigger in those left behind powerful emotions that if channeled can move mountains."

When I read that, something clicked.

I don't have to keep dwelling on the pain, although that is legitimate and good for a time. I want my emotions and my grief to be used for something. I want to be healthy and productive and - as trite as it may sound - happy again.

So I guess that starts with the opening, the honesty, the community.

why i write

I don't know if the title of my blog is curious to you.

But I want to speak to it, my writing of words and how this is a healthy new season for me. Or at least the first steps toward it.

I have always loved writing.

But I am also a perfectionist, and want what I create to be good. The best. I love being the very best.

I set myself up for failure because I can't always be that. And my words run dry because I can't write up to my own expectations. Or perhaps I can, and do, but in the process I lose the gift that expressing myself in the written word truly is, to me. I get so distracted by impressing others that I completely forget the necessary: making myself small and seeking to meet God in the gifts he has given me. Instead I tend to make myself big and seek a name, a reputation, an applause.

So, and unintentionally I think, about a year and a half ago I took a break. I lost my words for a season, or at least the motivation to put them on paper.

And in the midst of that season, I lost my dad.

I was the strong one in my family, for the first few months at least. I was the strong one, for everyone else, and then when taken away from people, the sadness would overwhelm me completely. I pretended to be okay, thought I was grieving in a healthy way, but I. Was. Not. It took a couple of visits to a counsellor to really get this through my thick skull.

My confession is this: I don't think I started this blog with the best intentions. I really don't. I wanted to use it to commend myself, to build myself up. And I don't think I am ever really that great at being honest with others about what I'm feeling and instead try to put a pretty face on it in an effort to convince them that this life with Jesus, it is what they need -- and even more so, that I am great, worthy, talented, the best. I am tired of trying so hard!

So I have begun giving those efforts up. Letting go.

And I want this place to be one where I am free to put my thoughts, sorrows, and joys into words without fear of what others may judge about me. I want this to be a freeing place. I can't think of a time when my expression and creativity has actually been freeing. But I know that it is possible.

And that is why I have subtitled this blog "learning to live, love, walk & WRITE on the other side of tragedy"... I want to learn to write, again, and in some ways, for the very first time.

May Jesus use this to restore & heal & give freedom.

Photo: http://www.kings.uwo.ca/pt5/assets/Image/academics/write_place/quill.jpg