quiet

The quiet is simultaneously soothing and distressing.  It stifles the anger.  It allows for reflection, analysis, and resolution.  Feelings breed with thoughts.  Thoughts wander, darting ahead in time and back into the past.  Very little focus remains on the present.  Hundreds of questions surface, very few of which are answered.  Memories arise, brimming over into tears.  Dreams are in the periphery, broken and desperately trying to quickly reassemble into new dreams.  The sound of the breeze through the crisp fall leaves unknowingly prompts a deep breath.  Frustration is exhaled.  Much is considered, but little is resolved.  The pain lingers.  The pain permeates.  Hope smolders. 

Letting Go(d)

One of the hardest things for me is to really, truly let go and give God control in my life. 

First of all, I'm a bit of a control freak.  I'm good at doing things properly, thoroughly, and in a timely manner, and sometimes it just seems easier to do it myself than to wonder and worry if someone else will do it right (or do it to my standards).  I know.  I make it harder than it needs to be.

Second, I associate loss of control with vulnerability and with taking advantage.  I know, cognitively, that God has my best interests at heart and loves me and promises to protect me, but I'm telling you it is very hard for me.  I really struggle to suspend the negative associations I have about giving humans control in my life. 

Third, what does it really mean to give God control?  What if I don't see or hear him directing my days, my words, and my choices?  What then?  Most of us don't encounter burning bushes or angelic messengers to relay God's will for our lives... 

In recent days, I've been forced to deal with something extremely shocking and painful.  I found myself pretty close to rock bottom, not able to cope adequately or make sense of things or adapt to the blow that was delivered to my little world.  People have prayed for me.  I've prayed.  I've asked for lots of things, including comfort, direction, peace, and the ability to cope and move forward.  As I've focused more and more on how to actually give God control of my life, I've imagined myself in a corn maze, much like the one I recently visited.  I imagine coming to each intersection, not having any clue as to which way to go.  I imagine NOT feeling anxious or scared as I get deeper and deeper into the maze and farther from the entrance or exit.  It isn't easy.  It isn't easy at all, at least not for me.  But I'm trying.  God, I'm trying.  Because when I insist on running my own life, it seems I don't always get the best results.  I don't choose the best direction.  I ignore the warning signs.  I wind up at a dead end with no idea how to get back to a safe place.  Show me the right path.  Open my eyes and ears to hear your gentle calling. Keep me safe.  Help me to trust.  It's so hard God.  It's so hard.

The Sting of Betrayal

It's called the sting of betrayal because it literally burns, it causes you to pull back sharply as you inhale a short, rapid, but strong breath of air - as if your brain knows you'll need a bit more oxygen to process the news.  Moments and hours go by, and at times you can almost distract yourself enough to mute the pain, but ah, there it is, still throbbing, still reminding you of that moment of contact that is seared into you.  You can treat it and be somewhat successful in soothing the pain, but once your source of comfort is removed, it returns as strong as before, reminding you that nothing has really been healed.  You lie awake in bed, desperately craving the sleep your body and mind need, but the throb keeps you awake.  Scenes, words, and images, flash behind even closed eyes as you replay the shock of it over and over again, each time foolishly hoping there is a different ending.  You marvel at your own stupidity, for buying into the game, for believing the lies, for dragging innocent bystanders into harm's way.  You recall the most inane moments, now with a glaze of distrust and paranoia.  And still it throbs.  Still it burns.  Still it stings.  Yes, this is real.  Nightmares and fears don't hurt like this.

A Paradigm Shift on Failed Relationships

Today I had a paradigm shift.  Quite often, I find myself thinking or saying that I'm a failure when it comes to romantic relationships.  Today a wise mentor of mine challenged me, asking me why I would say that.  I said, "Well, every relationship I've ever been in has ended.  Every relationship has failed."    She asked me why they failed, and I started to give reasons for break-ups.  She interrupted me and said, "So breaking up equals failure?"

 

Bam WHAT?!?!

 

I blushed and gave a sheepish grin, already realizing the folly of my logic.  I know plenty of people who are in relationships and miserable.  That is not success, at least not to me.  Realizing you are with the wrong person and acting on it IS success.  Refusing to settle for less than you deserve IS success.  Staying single rather than entering a relationship for the wrong reasons IS success.  Taking time to heal and find yourself IS success.  Taking a chance on love IS success. 

Perhaps I'm not where I imagined I'd be at this stage of my life in terms of romance.  But why on earth would I presume to just happen to find the right person for me because I've reached a certain age or life stage?  I have no idea.  But now I'm free from that false, self-deprecating label as I continue to embrace opportunities to learn and grow, landing precisely where God intended me to land at precisely the moment He intended me to land there. 

 

Just a Motorcycle Ride

He wasn't exactly a stranger to me - more than likely we'd met each other nearly 20 years ago.  We shared a mutual friend who my then fiancé (now ex-husband) had employed as a bartender at his restaurant.  That mutual friend took his own life in 2011, and in 2012 while many of us were still posting tributes and notes on his Facebook wall, I posted something that caught his attention and he friended me on Facebook.  In 2013, knowing his love for motorcycles, I invited him to my church's annual biker weekend.  He spotted me in the crowd and spoke to me, introducing me to his ex-wife and her fiancé.  Nice.  It's good to know I'm not the only one capable of having a civil relationship with an ex.  I was in a serious relationship at the time.  A couple of weeks later, he offered to take me for a ride on his bike.  I respectfully declined, saying I didn't think my boyfriend would appreciate it.  He would later tell me that my response caught his attention and impressed him because of the way I thought and responded.

 

We shared a couple of brief e-mail exchanges, but that was it.  We both existed on the periphery of one another's worlds, entering the other's thoughts from time to time.

In June of this year, he caught wind of the fact that I was no longer in my relationship.  He asked me again if I'd like to go for a ride on his bike.  He gave me his number, asked me to call, and I refused.  Initially.  The first night we talked, it flowed rather easily.  The next day he drove 90 miles from where he was to give me a ride in a brief window of opportunity I had without my children.  I was excited to ride, but that was the extent of it.  I apologized for possibly being presumptuous, but went on to tell him that I was only interested in hanging out and to not start calling me or asking to spend time together.  I was very honest about the state of my heart.  My relationship had ended very badly with an enormous amount of hurt, tension, and stress.  I was still healing and needed time before I could even consider dating, let alone being in a relationship.  I was also really enjoying my freedom, even if I chose to use it to simply be at home, with my kids, or with close friends.  He agreed, having recently been through some drama of his own. 

 

On that first ride, I fought the overwhelming urge to allow myself to just lean into him.  We spent hours together that day and in the next few days to come.  All of our time was spent in conversation.  It came so easily and we each had so much to say and so much to hear.  We'd try to watch a movie, and couldn't bear to shut up long enough to focus on a script or a plot.  I made a half-hearted attempt to keep him at arm's length - not that he was being pushy at all.  But I was wise enough to know not to completely shut him out and miss the possibility of something beautiful blossoming between us.  It already was.

 

Two months later, he feels like home to me.  He has been more engaged with my kids than any of my 3 significant post-divorce relationships ever were, even over the course of a year or more.  My diva Chihuahua that refuses to go to anyone but me?  She jumps into his lap when he comes over.  She lets him flip her on her back and rub her tummy.  It's mind-blowing.  And noteworthy.

 

Sometimes, our plans look good on paper, but don't jive with our hearts and souls.  Sometimes you have to call an audible and change the game plan you previously formulated.  You just go with it, all too aware that it may backfire, but equally aware it might just turn out to be what you were looking for - and hiding from - all along. 

 

 

My Wish For You

My wish for you is simple - that you would see yourself as I see you.  You, in all your splendor and beauty and wonder.  You have captured me since the moment I met you 15 years ago.  You never cease to amaze me with your intellect, wit, beauty, purity, kindness, compassion, creativity, and perceptiveness.  Your friendship is one of the greatest treasures God has ever given me, and I am unworthy.

 

I hate that you have been dealt this hand.  To know the depths of your struggle is to practically feel it myself.  If I could, I would erase all of your fears and replace them with nothing but hope and peace.  I would heal your body and restore your mind and your faith.  But I am a mere mortal, incapable of Godly acts.  What I can do and will do - fiercely - is love, support, and encourage you with every opportunity I'm given. 

 

When you gonna make up your mind
When you gonna love you as much as I do
When you gonna make up your mind
'Cause things are gonna change so fast

~Tori Amos, "Winter"

Enjoy the Silence

Words are powerful.  Words can comfort, reassure, encourage, advise, and soothe.  Words can hurt, destroy, insult, and confuse.  Words are permanent. Once said, they cannot be deleted or replaced with other words.  Every word has a measure of truth, no matter the circumstance, context, or subsequent words. 

 

I treasured the words you spoke to me.  I believed them.  I believed in them.  I believed what you promised, even when your actions suggested otherwise.  I wanted to believe.  They were beautiful words and beautiful promises.  They made me feel loved, valued, cherished, adored, secure, and happy.  They mirrored the love I felt for you, leading me to believe our feelings for one another were mutual.

 

Those words slowly dwindled.  They illustrated inconsistencies and created doubt.  Then they disappeared altogether as the silence boomed.  They were replaced with ugly, hateful, nasty, evil, hurtful words.  Hearing the voice that I loved utter them...I'm sure my brows were furrowed, my mouth agape as I tried to wake myself from what I hoped was a nightmare.  Hearing those lips curse me, insult me, humiliate me...even in front of my children...I might have preferred that you strike me with your fist.  The damage to my heart seemed just as painful.

 

Ah, but I have a voice too.  And now, sweet silence.  The ticking of the clock.  A beloved dog snoring.  A child's gleeful laughter.  Music.  Birds singing.  Thunder booming.  Rain pattering.  All of it is welcome.  All of it is genuine.  All of it is restorative. 

 

“That's what careless words do. They make people love you a little less.” 

~Arundhati Roy
 

"Words have no power to impress the mind
without the exquisite horror of their reality."

~Edgar Allan Poe