identifiably and tragically changed

I've spent the last several days really doing some soul searching. Recent events drove this to a top priority level on the necessity scale. You know, when you sit and try to figure things out and you just can't wrap your brain around that thing? Certain situations have made me think so hard, probably over-thinking, but really trying to process what I'm taking in. It's almost as if the motor in my brain is overheating—I've fried everything just trying to figure this thing out. I've literally expelled all my energy, emotionally and mentally just trying to make sense of this thing.

I had a good long cry the other night. A trillion and one little thoughts ranging from "I'm a freak" to "what's for supper" to "I just don't get it" to "what did I do so wrong" to "why did A do this" and "why did B do that to "I could eat a donut right now". I know, right? Insane. There are times, I admit, when my brain just flails out of control. But these tears were accompanied with this feeling that I was sort of washing out some of the hurt; the rest will heal over time. It's been a while since I cried. (Which is kind of weird.) Sadly my emotions as of late come out via the anger channel. A sarcastic quip, or raised voice, or angry combative exchange of words. The emotion has to get out—I'd explode otherwise. But why yell at my kids when its not the kids I'm upset with.  Or why be angry when you're really just sad? So I cried. And I felt better.

Along with the tears came something which really helped more than anything. The truth. That moment when I was able to name the reason I felt the way I did. Tangled up with that, was also where I owned the responsibility for my thoughts, actions, and inaction. That equals some level of freedom for sure. Allowing myself to verbalize the truth or identifying the root of the issue also allows me to breathe. When that brief moment of clarity snapped for me, it helped this situation make a little more sense. I have to stop looking at why "so in so" does this or "so in so" does that. I have to look at me.

I can't hide the fact that events in life have led me to fashion this little "fortress of solitude" around my little heart. We all do it. It's safe. But for me, it's like I literally cut-off the lifeline to my heart. Nothing in and nothing out. Sometimes I feel like that little heart became cold, dead, and black. Is that normal? Well, I can't speak to what normal is exactly, but I do think it makes sense. I suppose after a person has been broken, you'd be crazy to think that they'd remain the same after being put back together. Look at Humpty Dumpty; all the kings' horses and all the kings' men could not put him together again.

 

My heart suffered a tragic accident. The recovery is taking for-ev-er. I've made great progress, but I've also run into many obstacles that set the recovery back a few steps. It's painful and incredibly frustrating. When will I be strong enough to forget? How can I define myself in other ways, without considering the accident? When will people realize that their cure to everything doesn't always make sense to me. What a completely frustrating and trying process. And what if I go through this refining process of sorts only to learn that I'm just part of the dross?

I have been identifiably and tragically changed. I'm not the same; I am the one that has changed. I'm not the same person I was three years ago, not the same person I was five years ago or even a year ago. If I recognize change in certain situations, it's because I have changed, not necessarily anyone else. And while the change is good in many instances, my change is also tragic by definition which speaks to the depth of those alterations. Healthy growth of the human heart and soul is desirable and recommended. With those healthy changes also come the not so healthy. But I'm sure it's safe to say that this is something all humans deal with. That whole "you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there ya have, the facts of life" thing.

So it's me that has changed and it's me that needs to make changes. It rests on me. Honestly, I'm just out of energy. Spinning my wheels in directions that I'm not meant to go in and on things that aren't a reality for me. I'm not done with this soul searching; there is still much to decipher. No, I don't believe that I'm a waste. I firmly believe that I am a work in progress and I have a lot of questions along the way. I'm not afraid to ask them and I'm not afraid to be honest. It helps me live this crazy life of mine and be who I was created to be!

It is nice to open my eyes in the morning and know that I'm not who I was yesterday, but I'm who I was created to be today. The junk from yesterday is gone, I let it go. That's the best I can do for now. Today is a new day.

Whatcha Got There?

"There is nothing that wastes the body like worry,

and one who has any faith in God should be ashamed to worry about anything whatsoever."

~Mahatma Gandhi

Crawling out of the bed in the mornings is just an overwhelming and dreadful task for me. There is nothing in the world I hate more than getting out of a warm, cozy bed. Lately, I've been setting my alarm 10 minutes earlier than I really need to get up. That way, I am able to hit the snooze a few times and "feel" like I've slept a bit longer. It doesn't work and nothing makes me feel better about getting out of bed!

I noticed something very bothersome the other morning. There, between my eyebrows, were two red lines; one on the right side and one on the left side. "What in the world?" I thought to myself. Perhaps I just slept funny—head buried under the blankets or something bizarre. The next morning, the same red lines appeared. "Okay, I must really sleep weird!" But you know what… dadburnit if those stupid lines didn't show up every day!!!!!! WHAT THE HAY?

It didn't take me long to figure out "how" the lines got there. You know how when you're confused, or deep in thought, or squinting your eyes, you wrinkle your brow? Well, maybe you don't, but I sure do. Apparently, I've been deep in thought-- processing something or as angry as can be about something--while I sleep. Those stupid, horrific, ugly lines are right where my brow crinkles! Could these be worry lines?

worry line Function: noun : a crease or wrinkle on the forehead or between the eyebrows

OH MY WORD!  I have the forehead wrinkle, too!

Please don't misunderstand me. I don't really care that I have wrinkles on my face. My BIGGER concern is why they are there. You know, the Word clearly states: Who by worrying can add a single moment to his day? (Where is that? Matthew, Mark, Luke…?) Maybe it should  "Who that worries shall add a single moment to their day, but you will add face wrinkles.  Anyway, if you're a believer (a Jesus follower): you A.) need to recognize the Word. B.) Acknowledge the truth and C.) apply it to life.

I was really captured by Gandhi's statement. .. "one who has ANY faith in God should be ASHAMED to worry…"

YIKES!

What do you worry about? What captures your thoughts when you are still? 

Melissa's brain:

Will the kids be okay? Are the dressed warm enough? What if something happens when I'm not around to help? Do they have friends? Why does (blank) do that? Don't they know how hurtful that is? Who would say that about someone? What am I going to eat for lunch? They said they're okay, are they really okay? What if I'm killed in a car accident? What is someone breaks into my house? If I died in the next 5 minutes, who would have to clean my house, clean out my drawers and personal effects? Is there a heaven? Will I go to heave when I die? Are my kids proud of me? Do I do enough for them? What should I be doing? Why does (blank) hate me? Did I do something wrong? How can I fix it if I did? Can I even fix it? What am I going to wear today? WOW, could these pants get any tighter? I will never lose weight. I will never be a good mom. I'm a terrible friend. I'm so tired. Who died and made (blank) God of the universe? Oh wait, there is only one God—(blank) is so out of it. What planet are they on? Really? Seriously? You really think you know better than God? You wanna think about that? What's for dinner? I need a snack- no you don't, you need to quit eating. I am so tired. I wonder if she'll know she's beautiful? I wonder if he knows how much I love him? Do they know I would die for them? Does God exist? Does He really love me unconditionally? If unconditional love exists, why don't I see more of it in life? Am I capable of loving unconditionally? Why am I hungry all the time? That couch is so comfortable, but I can't sleep yet. How do I reach (blank)? I didn't share Jesus with anyone today. I'm such a failure.

If you were to just take your pen and start writing your thoughts- freely and honestly, what would your pen leave on the clean, white paper? What thoughts run through your head that cause you worry or fear or uncertainty?

Naming them is therapeutic. Calling worry like it is, is a good release. And when you spew it all out on paper or wherever, you begin to let it go. I mean, you could even go as far as to take the paper you wrote it on and burn it—send it up in flames (but not your abode, please! Safety first.) You could rip it into a million pieces and throw it away. You could buy a helium balloon, tie your list to it and send it off… SERIOUSLY! You need to let it all go.

I need to let it all go. God didn't create me to walk around carrying heavy book bags and totes and satchels full of worry!

DON'T BE A PACK MULE FOR WORRY!

Cause you know what that means, right?

As we journey along, we find ways daily to give our lives away. If we worry, we have the internal struggle of hanging onto our lives; lives that were not really ours to begin with. When you list out your worries, you will probably find they are pretty selfish and no wonder there is shame in that. This life isn't mine, these worries aren't mine. My God provides for me and my family. He provides above and beyond our needs and even desires. I live this life serving Jesus and serving others. The sooner I am able to dwell in that, the sooner the "worry lines" may disappear.

What are you carrying and why? Get rid of it!

Live free!

Chaos.

When I saw the look on Jamie's face, I knew it well.  "Just like his mother," said my husband.  The look of sheer confusion and frustration. When he started fidgeting with his arms and running his hand over his head, I knew the tears could fall at any moment-- he had had enough.

The game began at 8:30am on Saturday morning.  The boys were so excited for this their very first basketball game.  Uniforms- check.  Shoes- check.  Deodorant- check (thanks, mom.)  So they had not had enough sleep the night before the big game, that's was okay.  They were ready!

Whistle blows and they're off!

Running up and down the court, trying to dribble, not double dribble, but just dribble.  Trying hard not to travel and trying not to have every pass stolen... it was a difficult first game for the boys and their teammates.  Nearing the end of the 3 quarter, I saw the look on Jamie's face.  He was tired, but it was more than that.

Oh the chaos!  You see, he had two coaches in front of him coaching.  He had the well meaning referee behind him every step, gently instructed with that ear piercing whistle.  To the right, the loud fans from the other team.  To the left, the mom, dad and fans from his team.  From ever angle, there were voices loudly "speaking" to Jamie-- echoing throughout the gym. Even though he knew the coach's voice, he still had others shouting "Pass the ball!" and "Dribble!" and "Rebound!" and "GO!" and then the fans from the other team cheering for point after point.  Not to mention, the other team always in his face, right there every step on the court not wanting him to do what he wanted to do.  Do you know how overwhelming that is? 

I thought of this in my own life and began to twitch.  When the chaos sets in when you just get so frustrated at everyone telling you what to do.  Your body begins to crawl with frustration and you'd just as soon run out of the building then do whatever it is you're supposed to be doing. Obviously, I don't play basketball, but I do know what it is like to have so many voices shouting out  to me.  I don't want to listen to all the voices who think they know what I should do, I want that one voice who knows what I need to do.  I want to hear my coach and noone else.  There is only room in my head for one voice and all the rest is a major distraction. Does life ever feel that way for you?  You just reach the point  where you want to scream "SHUT UP!" so you can just hear the one voice you have been training with all along.  You need to hear the coach, he's got the plan.

I'm sure with time and lot's more practice, Jamie will learn how to focus on his coach's voice.  With time, he will be able to drown out all the background noise so the coach is the only one he hears.  With time, the frustration, confusion and even anxiety will subside.  With time, he won't notice the voices of distraction.

I feel like Jamie did that Saturday morning.  I've tried so hard to focus, and hear the words of the Coach.  I just know he's there and he's giving me the game plan, but everyone is so loud.  I can't hear Him over the crowd!  I need more practice.  I need more time focusing on the voice of my Coach.  If I can't hear Him, there is no one I'm going to be able to succeed in this game.   

Stop. Focus.  Listen.  Deep breath.  I've been training for this! I can't let the impending chaos and the empty voices of distraction send me running for the door.

"You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.”  ~Friedrich Nietzsche

(Really?  I'll have to think about that quote.)

Copyright ©  2009 brokensidewalks

Published... well kinda sorta

I wrote this back in July following a difficult life experience. I submitted it last month to an online magazine and they posted it. Thought I'd share it if you'd like to read it:

Curled Up With Jesus

I spent the day curled up in the lap of Jesus. As I listened to the steady cadence of his heartbeat, and the soothing rhythm of his chest rising and falling with each breath he took- I found the comfort I was desperate for. I’ve never been so close to him before and for that I am very ashamed. Of course, the reason that led me to the lap of Jesus leaves me ashamed as well. I ran there. I ran away from a problem that was so huge, there was nowhere else to go and I found myself wishing that I’d run there every day in either my happiness or my sadness.

I’m sitting at the feet of Jesus now. I’m listening to him speak—I seem so small here, yet significant. His left hand rests lightly on my head and I can feel his electricity full of love and compassion. He’s smiling at me, tears in his eyes. I am mesmerized by his face. The sound of his voice is as calming as the aroma cookies baking in the oven. The sound of his voice drifts in and out of my head, steadying my heart. His tears sparkle in the corner of his eyes and occasionally one runs down his cheek. He is happy that I’m here. He’s been waiting a long time for me.

I sense that there is so much he wants to say to me. His words, however, are not rushed and they are gentle. He stops speaking audibly and there is a beautiful silence that I recognize from my youth. When I close my eyes, I am standing outside in the woods behind my childhood home and there isn’t a soul around. The wind is gliding through the leaves, rustling them slightly. The sun has peaked through the tallest trees, hitting every other leaf on its way down to me. I’m overwhelmed as it seems as if the trees and rocks and the wind, the stream even… they all speak in their own way. I breathe deeply, inhaling the life that surrounds. Aware of my dream, I open my eyes again and I look at him curiously. I know what he’s saying, yet his mouth isn’t moving and no sound is coming from him. As I look into his eyes, I know what he wants me to know. Pleasant and frightening at the same time. He has always been with me, he has always spoken to me—somehow I lost my way.

We’re audibly talking again. As he speaks, he moves his hands. I talk with my hands, too, but this is different. My eyes fall on the wounds—I can see them and all of the sudden I am overcome with guilt and shame as I’m fully aware that those are my wounds. What have I done? Why am I here? I don’t deserve to be this close. The pain that led me here pales horribly in comparison to his pain. I begin to weep. Sobbing. Deep, guttural sounds that frighten me even though I know they are coming from within me. I am so unworthy.

But something really beautiful is happening now. He’s picking me up. He lifts me to his chest like a father lifts his injured child. Yet he does it with such ease and strength. His left arm is behind my back and his right arm under my legs as my limbs fall heavily over his arm. My head falls against his chest and I’m still sobbing. I can’t hold my head up. He cradles me and I feel like a small child. The electricity is palpable and then I hear it…

He begins to sing to me. It’s the most beautiful song I have ever heard. I am completely broken in the arms of Jesus and he’s singing over me. His warm tears have rolled from his beautiful face, landed on my face, and mingled with my tears. They fall one by one. With each note he sings and with each tear that falls, peace slowly begins to surround my brokenness. There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be. I’m safe here. I’m loved here. I’m forgiven here. I don’t want to leave.

Copyright ©  2009 Melissa Meador Wilson