I'm mad at myself today.

I'm mad at myself today.  

I'm mad that I care about ridiculous things that DO NOT matter.  I'm mad that there are certain things that take up space in my brain and use up my time.  Valuable time. When I open my eyes, there is a lot to see.  

1. There are people who are in pain every day. Physical and emotional.  
2. People who feel unlovable.  They think no one will every love them.  
3. There are people who are drowning in sorrow. Darkness has swallowed them and they cannot see light. 
4. There are people one step from the ledge, ready to jump. 
5. Children in my community are starving.
6. People are being sold as slaves all around the world, including the U.S.A.
7. People are killing themselves because they think that is the solution.    

When I really open my eyes and my heart, I see and feel a big, beautiful world filled with so much good.  But I cannot deny there is also so much sadness.  I tend to only think about my own family, my own life.  My time is spent worrying about how we will pay the bills.  My brain obsesses with past hurts, pains. I get consumed in me.

When I open my eyes, I see people all around me living with their eyes closed.  What really breaks my heart is seeing people without hope.  

What can I do? Is there anything I can do? How do I help someone see hope? How do I help someone find hope?

There are things that I should give my time and energy to.  There are things that hurt me and should hurt me.  There are things in this life that absolutely break my heart.

There are things that need to move me to speak and think and act.
 

• My Aunt's grandson, Crew, passed away August 26, 2011 at the age of three. A total of 1,596,670 new cancer cases and 571,950 deaths from cancer are projected to occur in the United States in 2011. American Cancer Society 

• An average of one person dies by suicide EVERY 16.2 MINUTES. Depression is the strongest risk factor for suicide. Suicide takes the lives of nearly 30,000 Americans every year. EVERY 2 HOURS AND 11 MINUTES a person under the age of 25 completes suicide.  It's estimated that for every adolescent who completes suicide, there are between 50 and 200 suicide attempts. A recent survey of high-school students found that almost 1 in 5 had seriously considered suicide; more than 1 in 6 had made plans to attempt suicide; and more than 1 in 12 had made a suicide attempt in the past year. SAVE

• An Estimated 1 in 10 U.S. adults report depression. Among 235,067 adults (in 45 states, the District of Columbia [DC], Puerto Rico, and the U.S. Virgin Islands), 9.1% met the criteria for current depression, including 4.1% who met the criteria for major depression. Center for Disease Control and Prevention;  An Estimated 1 in 10 U.S. Adults Report Depression

• Human trafficking is the second largest and fastest growing criminal industry worldwide An estimated 2.5 million people are in forced labor (including sexual exploitation) at any given time as a result of trafficking.http://www.humantrafficking.org/

• Between 2008 and 2009, the poverty rate increased for children under the age of 18 from 19.0 percent to 20.7 percent. Thus one in five children in the United States live in poverty. Almost half of these children (9.3 percent) live in extreme poverty. US Department of Health and Human Services   

 

At the age of 14, my Granddaddy lost his battle with cancer.  It was the first loss I had experienced.  With faith like a child, I knew God was going to heal him.  God didn't heal him.  He died.  I was devastated.  

A year later, a dear friend committed suicide.  Once again, I found myself at a complete loss.  No answers to my questions, no ounce of understanding.  I was haunted by  nightmares as my friend screamed out for me to save him.  I didn't know how.  I tried, but I failed.

When postpartum depression invaded my life, I had no clue what hit me.  I do not know how to properly describe a life lived daily hindered by something you cannot explain.  As an outside observer, you may not understand it.  Let me be the first to tell you that just because you cannot understand it, does not make it any less real.  

My reality, at it's worst, was like being trapped inside my own body.  I could see and hear, but I could not see clearly nor hear well; everything is fuzzy and faint.  There was no color, only black and white.  I could touch, but only as a sense, I didn't really feel.  The worst part is the pain you feel, but it's like you lose the ability to feel happiness.  So much so that you forget happiness exists.  My focus was always on my pain, because it's all I was able to think about.  The things that used to bring you so much joy now mean very little.  You internalize everything.  Distance is your protection.  If I don't get close to anyone, they will not see, they will not know, they will not hurt me.  

At my darkest point, my thought was that the best solution was for me to disappear.  Everyone would be better off if I wasn't here.  My children would be happier.  My husband would have peace.  My family wouldn't be bothered with me.  The most frightening times were in the early hours of the morning, before dawn.  I'd lay awake, a victim of insomnia, staring at the ceiling, thinking of ways I could disappear into the night--without a trace.  It was a horrible.  A horrible, haunting, dark feeling.  I just wanted to disappear.

Remembering is painful.  But if I refuse to remember,  it's as if I say my experience wasn't real.  I know what I experienced and I know if I experienced it, there are others who have or who are.  While my depression is currently in  "remission",  there are a lot of someones out there who haven't been diagnosed or treated or properly dealt with the repercussions of depression.

I feel this urgency.  This desire to reach out into the darkness and grab for anyone who will let me pull them out, but I'm really afraid that I'm just not strong enough... but isn't that what we're supposed to do?  

I've now lost 3 friends to suicide. I'm only 33.

Death Sucks (orig. 5.2.11)

No matter how you look at it, death hurts those left behind.  No matter how it comes... it just sucks.  Anytime I hear of a suicide, my heart simply shatters into thousands of pieces.  It's hard, because I'd never ever want anyone to think that my pain is so great due to a closeness that didn’t exist, but there is a hole there, no matter what angle I come at it.   

I’m transported, not by choice, back to a place and time that I don’t like revisiting.  My mind is flooded with memories of my  friend who decided to end his own life. I was in 9th grade, he was in 11th—I still see his face and am occasionally haunted by nightmares where he screams out my name and reaches for me from a cold darkness.  I remember vividly that helpless feeling; the confusion, the loss that followed in the days after he left.  The heavy, deep sadness that permeates every fiber of your being, with venom that slowly crawls through your veins, leaving you paralyzed under the shock. 

When I heard the news of an old friend who recently decided to end his life, it brought back it all back to the forefront.  It just hurts so badly.   Memories flood in and things that you thought you had forgotten seem as if they happened just yesterday!  I can see his face—that crooked smile, hear his voice.  I can even hear him laugh.  My God, that was over 15 years ago, but he’s right here in front of me!  My heart hurts and I have this horrible sickening feeling in my stomach.  That feeling that you never want to feel once, much less twice or more.  I hurt for his family and for his close friends.  Oh my goodness do I hurt for them.

As someone who has personally struggled with depression, it makes me all the more aware the existence of that very dark place.  I’ve been to the edge of the darkness; that scary place where you wonder why you exist?  That place where you cry out for peace or for a hand to hold your own or for someone who can understand.  How can anyone understand when you don’t understand yourself?  You try to walk the road, quietly and unnoticed—yet you want someone to notice.  And even when they do notice, it still doesn’t seem like enough.   To be so afraid of what you feel, but more afraid of what friends will think if you tell them.  And worse yet, how do you tell them?  How do you explain the darkness, the sadness, the pain? 

Hope stepped in and intervened on my behalf. Somehow, through the darkness, I never let go of hope.  I have a physical reaction when  think of someone who has lost hope.  I tense up, I hold my breath, and my body gets really agitated.  I just ache when I think that someone feels so alone or hopeless--it truly breaks me.  An overwhelming feeling of helplessness pervades.  What could I have done then and what could I possibly do now?  The only thing I know to do is to promise myself never to forget who they are, that they existed, or the influence they had on my life.  

We each find different ways to remember the people we’ve lost.  And no matter how we lose our friends and family, there still remains a hole that can never be filled by another human being.  I’m going to do what I can to shine a light in the darkness.  It's all I know to do.

Check out the organization To Write Love On Her Arms... donate in remembrance of a loved one or in honor of a loved one who daily battles with depression, addiction, etc.   Let them know how important they are in your life story!

To Write Love On Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide.  TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery.

She, Like A Vapor (orig. 3.21.11)

She, like a vapor

vanished into the atmosphere,

gone without a trace.

Her face we once knew well,

kind and gentle,

love in every detail.

Her laugh beckoned us,

with depth and warmth,

peaceful to its core.

Was she ever really there?

Running through the trees,

Quickly across the meadow,

The tall grass cutting like small razors.

Tripping over the rocks,

Hurling through the water,

Tossed back and forth between the hills.

Lost in the unfamiliar,

Caught like a rabbit in the snare,

Cries go unanswered.

Cold and wet,

Alone with a deep excruciating sadness,

Unaware of freedom,

Succumbed to the captivity.

Was she ever really there?

2011 © Melissa Meador Wilson

Invisible Sadness (orig. 2.15.11)

Pulling her down,

Far away from the ground,

Around and around,

Spinning out of control

Slipping in

Out

Never certain of how

Or why

She cannot be what she wants to be

But what shall she be today?

Up

Down

Back

Forth

In front

Behind

What shall she be

For you today?

Thrown aside

Tossed out-of-the-way

Feeling like waste

Did she ever exist?

Was she ever even really there?

Falling up

The sky may catch her,

Unerringly where it should

If only it could

Moving quietly

Over

Far away

Under

Invisible sadness

She will not be what she wants to be

But can she be her today?

Down

Up

Forth

Back

Behind

In front

What shall she be

For you today?

 

© 2011 Melissa Meador Wilson

trying to find my voice (original 1.19.11)

i cried the night i saw it on Glee.  the story line definitely hit me-- i really hate it when that happens!  i've heard the song a hundred times before; always thought it was beautiful, but that particular night it was different.  i connected.  i shed a few tears and inside my chest, quietly buried beneath a tough exterior, my little heart broke into thousands of small pieces.

andrea sent Glee music to me for my birthday. during my regular commute home, this song began to play.  i turned the volume up as i recognized the music.  such a gorgeous melody.  a perfect marriage of beauty, tenderness, sadness and pain. i cried again.  the song just makes me sad, but it's an oddly beautiful sadness.

i've held so many dreams in my lifetime.  i remember a time when i believed anything was possible; the days of my youth where life seemed limitless!  so unaware.  my naivete gave me a constant smile;  it told me all people were good, things would always turn out right...  it was as if i had no idea of my own vulnerability and no clue that any danger existed at all.  oh how life really chews up our naivete, rips our innocence to shreds, and kills our dreams.

i don't write or talk much about my adoption.  some days, i don't think too much about it, but some days i do. the older i get, the more difficult it has become to communicate with people what i feel.  it's like a vast canyon that at times is filled with life giving water and other times empty and so dry, nothing could live there.  when i try to explain what i feel or what i think, i can't.   it's like being on an hunting expedition for the rare and hard to find words that may be able to describe what i feel inside. even if i did find the rare words and if i did speak those words, it would be as if i was speaking a foreign language to most.

i love finding quotes.  there are time when the words of others have the ability to give a good glimpse into what i'm feeling, but i can't even use the word formulations of others to articulate the feelings within.  i'm comforted by the reality that music speaks what words cannot and transcends any language barrier.  there are times the music tells the story far better the lonely words ever could.  victor hugo is quoted as saying "music expresses that which cannot be put into words and cannot remain silent."   oh to hear a melody, a meeting of musical notes, each note carrying a meaning of it's own, blending perfectly to tell a story that you could not tell or could not understand otherwise. 

in this song is a beautiful sadness.  a nostalgic reminiscences of moments past with the beauty of the dreams you once held compounded with the certainty that there are hurts in life--no matter how much you wish they didn't exist. and a reality that some dreams will just be that--dreams.

i haven't been able to sing in months. when i find my voice, this is the song i'll sing.  for now, these two communicate what i wish i could far better than i...

I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high and life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving

Then I was young and unafraid
And dreams were made and used and wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung no wine untasted

But the tigers come at night
(But the tigers come at night)
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hope apart
(As they tear your hope apart)
And they turn your dream to shame

And still I dream she'll come to me
That we will live the years together
But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms we cannot weather

I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed

.
so,  i found a song that expresses some of what i feel inside. this particular song speaks to a quiet sadness inside, but it leaves out an important part of my story because my story isn't all sad.  there is a lot of happiness inside as well.  i'm not sure you can have happiness without sadness or sadness without happiness.   it seems the two are mutually dependent on one another.  i'm thankful that deep within my sometimes broken heart, there is not only a beautiful sadness but a healing happiness as well.

The House That Built Me

There is a song I hear each morning and after afternoon on my commute to and from work. It chokes me up EVERY time I hear it. Between the rhythms of the smooth guitar, the soft, mellow voice and the lyrics themselves, I simply melt.

The lyrics resonate within me. One of those moments of "ah, yes, that's how I feel and that's what I'd say if I could" moments. You know those times where you can't put words with your feelings? How frustrating that is! Then someone comes along and not only gives your feelings words, but makes beautiful music.

I think about my birthplace a lot. So many wonderful childhood and adolescent memories. As an adult, the memories are few and far between as I've spent little time in my adulthood. It was different when I was in college and then out of college and after we were married. I'd go home and I retrace my footsteps through familiar settings.

There are times now when I wish I could go back. Not necessarily to the place, but to the time. I can life through my 12 year old eyes! I can feel the heat of the summer, the cool air-conditioned running in the kitchen window; I can remember swimming and playing. I vividly remember the summer nights. The balmy evenings with fireflies; nighttime serenades from the crickets and tree frogs. Oh how I remember the way the sky looked at night! A velvet blanket of stars—they seemed close enough to touch some nights. And if the moon was full in the sky, it was like a soft spotlight shining on the stage.

I can still hear the gravels beneath the wheels of a car coming down the drive. I can hear the sound of the tractor mowing the lower field; the sound of the saw-mill over the" holler". And even the sounds of the bees and other honestly annoying summer insects.

One of my favorite things about summer mornings was the dew on the grass. When you'd come outside, it was hot, but the green grass was cool and damp beneath your feet. The sun would stream from the mountain peak, just on the horizon. It was so beautiful early in the morning, before you could really feel the heat from its beams. Oh and the birds singing at first light? Divine!

In my mind, I walk about the front door and down the gravel drive. I turn the bend in the road, and walk down the hill towards the creek. The water laps gently along the stone, rushing down towards the pond. The drive tilts up another hill; along the left edge is a steep embankment with trees hanging over the road. Along the right is a barbed wire fence—rough and rugged, reminding me of another place and time. I touch the fence, between the barbs. I long to connect with something from the past. You can smell the woodsy air and on the breeze you pick up hints of years of memories.

As the steep road flattens, I smell the familiar aroma of my grandparent's home. I can hear the dishes on the stove and the blaring television set. I see the glow of the familiar lights as dusk is falling. The porch lights beckon me like a moth to flame; I climb the cement stairs...one…two…three…four… I stand before the old oak door with aged window panes. I can hear faded laughter and distant porch swing chains clanking. When I reach for the door knob, the lights go out, the sounds disappear. The house is empty and dark.

(no, that's not the actual house but similiar.)

I'm staring out a window at a brick parking garage. The only sounds I hear are from the busy street below and the keys on the keyboard. I enjoy being transported back in time, but it hurts my heart. When I'm there, in my mind, everything just seems to make sense. When I'm here in reality, I can't seem to make sense of much of anything.

"I thought if I could touch this place or feel it

This brokenness inside me might start healing

Out here it's like I'm someone else

I thought that maybe I could find myself

If I could just come in I swear I'll leave

I won't take nothing but a memory

From the house that built me…"

 Sometimes I wish I could move backwards. Sometimes I do wish I could rewind and have another shot at something. How I wish that going back to the house that built me would give me strength and perspective. I guess there are times in our lives when the roots surface. Taking time to acknowledge their existence isn't a bad thing. There is strength in our foundation.

 Knowing where you come from is a huge part of who you are! Holding on to my vivid memories and bringing them to life gives me courage. Sure, I can't stand on that front porch. I can't walk barefoot in that grass. I can't hear the gravel beneath the car or the tractor in the distance. I can't go back and sit in the tree behind the house and pick cherries; eating them until my stomach aches. I cannot watch my mother at the kitchen sink from the yard—with the light casting an odd orange glow in the backyard from the overhead light. Wondering what she's thinking? I'm just watching, studying.

 I have a head full of memories. They get all bunched up sometimes. I can't figure out how to get it all out. Not that I want to lose them; quite the opposite. I want to save them-- I want to pass them down to my children. I want to be able to paint pictures with words; tell the stories so believably that even if they can't live it, feel it, see it… they will experience it in their minds. I want to give them the living, breathing memories from the houses that built me.

Lost A Lot of Friends

friend [frɛnd]n

1. a person known well to another and regarded with liking, affection, and loyalty; an intimate

2. an acquaintance or associate

3. an ally in a fight or cause; supporter

4. a fellow member of a party, society, etc.

5. a patron or supporter 

You'd Shrug Your Shoulders Too

I remember the days of my adolescents when all I did was fight.   Fight over anything and everything.  And what a battle that was!

“Melissa Gail, you are not going out of this house dressed like that!”  Mom said. “Oh yeah?  Watch me.”

“You will not speak that way to your mom, young lady.”  Dad said. “I’ll speak any way I want.”

“You’re driving too fast.  Slow down!”  Mom said. “You think I drive too fast?  I learned it from you.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”  Dad said.  “Okay,” accompanied by a double eye roll.

So I wasn’t a hellion of a child and I didn’t rebel too terribly bad, but boy did I fight.  Anything that seemed to be unjust, unequal, unfair—I’d fight it.  Sometimes, I’d fight just to fight, whether I really believed in it or not.

As the years progressed, flying by fast and furiously, I have changed a little bit.  I still possess the desire to fight for things I perceive to be unjust, unequal, or unfair.   The most noticeable differences are in that I pick my battles more cautiously and I consider my words and actions a wee bit longer than I used to.  Sure there are times I miscalculate or don’t think things through or practice little caution- but there are times when I really do SHUT UP and listen.

Knowing when to SHUT UP and knowing when to SPEAK UP can be very difficult. 

Oh the internal struggle between feeling that fight rising within you-- brewing a raging storm that could unleash a monstrosity of fury—and attempting to hold it back.   On the flip side, there are moments of peaceful ease of “this really isn’t worth it”. 

Sometimes Jesus flat out puts a muzzle on me.  And I’m learning to be okay with that—he can do that, he’s in charge.  He checks my emotions and agenda.  If I’m full of pride and selfishness, enter the muzzle. But then there are times I really feel He is telling me to speak--those times when I sense pure love, devoid of pride, selfishness, or agenda.  Times when he gently gives me the words to speak.

The ability to know when to SHUT UP or when to SPEAK UP is important.  Checking our motives, our heart, we can then proceed.  If I speak without love, I’m really going to screw things up!

The bottom line is that there is a battle raging all around.   Lately, I get so turned around and discombobulated.  I can’t tell when I’m supposed to fight and when I’m supposed to sit. 

First things first: talk to Jesus. 

“What do I do?”  I ask.

Sometimes, he replies.  Sometimes he shrugs his shoulders.  Not a “I dunno” shrug, but more like a “what do you think you should do?” shrug. 

Crazy, huh? 

I’ve been reading from 2 Chronicles 20:1-30.  It’s pretty cool… 

“Shaken, Jehoshaphat prayed”  (Poor guy.  His mom named him Jehoshaphat.)  Okay, back to the point. 

“Shaken, Jehoshaphat prayed”  In fact, all the people prayed.  All the people of Judah were there “attentive to God”.  WOW!

Okay, now I need to listen;  What does Jesus thinks?  Sometimes, his instructions are so clear!  (Other times, not so much.)

“Jahaziel was moved by the Spirit of God to speak from the midst of the congregation… He said, "Attention everyone—all of you from out of town, all you from Jerusalem, and you King Jehoshaphat—God's word: Don't be afraid; don't pay any mind to this vandal horde. This is God's war, not yours. Tomorrow you'll go after them; see, they're already on their way up the slopes of Ziz; you'll meet them at the end of the ravine near the wilderness of Jeruel. You won't have to lift a hand in this battle; just stand firm, Judah and Jerusalem, and watch God's saving work for you take shape. Don't be afraid, don't waver. March out boldly tomorrow—God is with you."

Now, when I’m really on my A game, I’m oozing with “thank you, thank you, thank you! Man, I love you!”  After all, this IS Jesus we’re talking to.  He’s God.  He doesn’t need me, he’s God.  But he loves talking to me AND he wants me to be a part of the story.

Crazy, huh?

“Then Jehoshaphat knelt down, bowing with his face to the ground. All Judah and Jerusalem did the same, worshiping God. The Levites (both Kohathites and Korahites) stood to their feet to praise God, the God of Israel; they praised at the top of their lungs!”

I mean, these guys are going into battle and they are praising God at the top of their lungs!  They are singing- worshiping, the whole nine yards.   I get ready for “battle” and singing isn’t at the top of my list. 

“They were up early in the morning, ready to march into the wilderness of Tekoa. As they were leaving, Jehoshaphat stood up and said, "Listen Judah and Jerusalem! Listen to what I have to say! Believe firmly in God, your God, and your lives will be firm! Believe in your prophets and you'll come out on top!"

 ²¹ After talking it over with the people, Jehoshaphat appointed a choir for God; dressed in holy robes, they were to march ahead of the troops, singing,
    Give thanks to God, His love never quits.”

This is where it gets a bit awkward, but stick with it.

As soon as they started shouting and praising, God set ambushes against the men of Ammon, Moab, and Mount Seir as they were attacking Judah, and they all ended up dead. The Ammonites and Moabites mistakenly attacked those from Mount Seir and massacred them. Then, further confused, they went at each other, and all ended up killed.

 ²⁴ As Judah came up over the rise, looking into the wilderness for the horde of barbarians, they looked on a killing field of dead bodies—not a living soul among them.

 ^25-26 When Jehoshaphat and his people came to carry off the plunder they found more loot than they could carry off—equipment, clothing, valuables. It took three days to cart it away! On the fourth day they came together at the Valley of Blessing (Beracah) and blessed God (that's how it got the name, Valley of Blessing).

 ^27-28 Jehoshaphat then led all the men of Judah and Jerusalem back to Jerusalem—an exuberant parade. God had given them joyful relief from their enemies! They entered Jerusalem and came to The Temple of God with all the instruments of the band playing.

 ^29-30 When the surrounding kingdoms got word that God had fought Israel's enemies, the fear of God descended on them. Jehoshaphat heard no more from them; as long as Jehoshaphat reigned, peace reigned.

Here is the almighty God waging a battle against those who are attacking Judah.  He tells them to be ready, but they won’t have to fight.  WOW!  And I really find it interesting that those that were attacking Judah were so confused, they started fighting with themselves.  

Now if you can get over the war and death and fast forward a smidgen, you will find yourself in the Valley of Blessings.

God took care of his people just like he said he would.  But first they sought him.  They invited him in and asked him to care for them.  They praised him!  They sang even as they prepared for battle.  And God, he stepped in and said “you won’t have to lift a hand. Don’t be afraid, don’t waver.  March out boldly.”

Sometimes, it just makes sense to stop and listen.  Sometimes there is a battle or a fight—but sometimes it may not be my battle to actually fight.  At least not like I think it is.

I mean, back in 2 Chronicles 7, God tells Solomon, “If I ever shut off the supply of rain from the skies or order the locusts to eat the crops or send a plague on my people, and my people, my God-defined people, respond by humbling themselves, praying, seeking my presence, and turning their backs on their wicked lives, I'll be there ready for you: I'll listen from heaven, forgive their sins, and restore their land to health.”’

Talk to God. Seek Him.  Thank Him.

Give up the pride, the selfishness, the motives.

The Valley of Blessings is on the other side… restoration, health, victory.  

But if we can’t keep our mouths shut and our hearts open, this may just be an impossible feat.  Well, impossible for us humans. I’m convinced that nothing is impossible for God. 

 

So fighting for what is just and fair isn’t a bad thing.  You’ve just got to be prepared for the battle.  Heart check.  Mind check.   SPEAKING UP isn’t a bad thing-  if everything is in check and according to The Plan.  SHUTTING UP isn’t a bad thing, either.  That may very well be The Plan, too.  

Just be sure that if it’s time to SPEAK UP, you don’t drone on so long that you can no longer hear the Father.  And make sure that if it’s a time to SHUT UP, you don’t sit quietly too long that you fall asleep.

So are you still wondering why Jesus would look at me and shrug his shoulders?  Oh if you could only hear some of our conversations… you'd shrug your shoulders too.


(disclaimer:  I am not theologian or a Bible scholar.  I am simply a person, reading the Bible and talking to Jesus.  I only write what I'm thinking.  Not factual- except for the excerpts from the B-I-B-L-E.  Otherwise, just me and my thoughts.  Take it or leave it.)

Absolutely Audacious

During this time of year, a great deal of my time is spent reflecting. It annoys me, but it happens. I’ve not written a single thing in months. Maybe it’s a major case of writer’s block or maybe I’m just really no writer at all, but my head is so full.


So much as happened over the last two weeks; What began as Christmas “thought” quickly took the back burner with plans of becoming a New Year “thought”. We were blessed to enjoy a wonderful Christmas with our family and Santa did not disappoint. During such difficult financial times, we were incredibly fortunate to be able to provide for our children. The presents overflowed beneath the tree and their eyes and their “oo’s and ah’s” on Christmas morning made it all so beautiful! Seeing Christmas through their eyes was amazing this year and I am so grateful.


We enjoyed several days with our families, both my parents and Jeff’s as well as Jeff’s family. Watching the cousin’s play together reminded me of my youth. Listening to them fight with each other was annoying and exhausting, but when they had those beautiful moments of all getting along—I rejoiced in my heart. J


Sadly, on the 28th, I had a call from my mom where she told me my father’s dad, Papa, wasn’t doing so well. One of benefits of being a state employee is that I have a great deal of time off during the Christmas season. Jeff agreed that I should go to visit with my Papa and Grandma during this time as I may not have another opportunity. I arrived on the 29th and spend a couple hours with my grandparents. The way I figured, I owed my Papa a couple songs as it had been years since I was able to sing for him. We enjoyed some quiet time where I was able to sing  to him. On Thursday, I was again able to spend a good bit of the day there. I read from the book of Psalm to Papa, sang a little bit, talked to him about silly things and gave Grandma some time to get her hair fixed. Papa seemed to understand what was going on, but it was hard to tell.


As I sat there holding his hand, it was so important to me for him to know he wasn’t alone. I felt a connection from my childhood to this man that I knew as my Papa. I missed his smile and laugh, but have such wonderful memories where the laughter echoes softly. They way he smiled, the way he wore his baseball hat, slightly crocked, before it was the popular thing to do. I remembered how hard he worked and even how he would smell when he would come in from a morning working at the saw mill. A mixture of gasoline, perspiration, and saw dust—comforting in a very strange way. I can still see him standing the in the farm house kitchen eating a tomato that he had sprinkled salt on and talking to Grandma about the day.


On Friday, as I sat there beside him, I cried because I didn’t have many memories in my adulthood. It made me sad that so much time passed and I felt I lost my Papa a long time ago. But through the tears, I remembered the last thing he said to me, back in November. He said “I love you”. So even through a bit of guilt for not being the best granddaughter I could be, I am comforted by the fact that my Papa knew how much I loved him and I knew he loved me. I whispered to him that I was proud to have him as a Papa.


I came  home on Friday, 12/31, and my Papa passed away around 4am on 1/1/11. Not how I’d choose to start a new year, but I am blessed to have had a little time with him and blessed to have such a good man in my life as and Papa. Papa has always been a Red Sox fan and he’s always worried about his family. The last thing I told him was this: “We will keep rooting for those Red Sox! Jeff loves you, so do the kids. Listen, we are going to take real good care of Grandma, please don’t worry. You go see Jesus! We’ll meet you there in a little bit.”


12/24/10


As we advance in life it becomes more and more difficult, but in fighting the difficulties the inmost strength of the heart is developed. ~Vincent van Gogh


As our final preparations are made for Christmas: laundry, dishes, dusting, cleaning bathrooms…I listen as Sam tells Abby about Santa. She about came unglued when he told her Santa will come down the chimney and then come check in her room. “No, he can’t see my room!” she shouted. It was cute, but I could sense her distaste for that thought. Jamie is in the next room screaming at Ben Roethlisberger in video game… my goodness, he must be an awful player who doesn’t do what Jamie tells him to do. Jeff is folding laundry and I’m just trying to get a thought out on “paper”.


2010 was a weird year and I’m really ECSTATIC to see it go. I honestly had high hopes that 2010 would be so much better than her predecessor. There were some really awesome events this year, but as a whole—it really sucked. Sorry, but it’s true. My family kept my head above water. My children kept air in my lungs and my obsession with NEEDTOBREATHE kept me occupied (no, Katie, I’m not a stalker, I swear


It was during some dark moments that really spectacular things happened. I found peace and comfort in unique places this year...


Children. While my eldest turned 10 yesterday and I am in shock, we are excited to celebrate this milestone with Sam, a phenomenal young boy. Jamie is still our lighthearted comedian. When I dyed my hair brown, he told me I looked like Katy Perry. “I like that, Jamie, she’s so pretty,” I said. He replied, “You’re pretty, Mom, duh.” Sam shook his head and said “she doesn’t look like Katy Perry.” Okay, Captain Obvious, just go with it! Abby has one speed--100mph. She’s in to absolutely everything! Jeff is convinced she is a mini magician. My darling Jeff has had the privilege of being the primary caregiver for our children. This isn’t what he, or I, thought would be our reality-- I am so thankful that he is such a good husband, father, and man. My children will surely benefit from all this time with their dad—a luxury they were not afforded in years past. Unemployment has been a difficult journey for us. Becoming a one income family has been challenging not only on individual levels but also relationally. But we face each day together and we keep looking up. Home. In June, we relocated to a little cottage by the lake. Our summer was spent playing, relaxing, and soaking up the sun. My internal rhythms have calmed dramatically since our move. This is the best place we’ve ever lived and finally feel “home”. Family. When we moved, we landed right next door to Jeff’s sister and her family. To many that seems risky to live so close to family, but I can honestly say it has been exactly what my family needed. To be so close to a family who has taken such good care of us has been amazing! Oh how important family is. A lesson I am extremely thankful for. Health. A weirdly insane battle with depression and bizarre anxiety, which I thought was killing me, exploded in May. As I lay at the doctor’s office who rushed an EKG due to my chest pains, I was scared to death. After the EKG, blood tests and discussion, the doctor looked at me and asked “what is going on?” I burst into tears and replied, “Everything!” This story would be a book, so I’ll just say I kept moving forward with the help of Jeff, family, friends and medication. Job. After a lot of debating, I took a giant leap when I decided to apply for a new job at the end of May. When I was offered the job in June, I started two weeks later in the midst of some major personal chaos. I had to learn so many new things, but the timing was right. I came into a new office filled with some of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met. The ladies in my group have truly been a source of strength for me. These women allow me to be silly, they allow me to cry, to rant and rave, they allow me to just be me and I love them for it. They’ve supported me along an insane personal journey and I am so blessed to have them in my life. I left a comfortable job for the uncomfortable and while I risked losing, I totally ended up gaining a whole heck of a lot. Some great friendships have been built and I am so fortunate! School. So Jeff and I are both back in school. He’s working on a Master’s degree and I my BS in Business. We must be gluttons for punishment! Unexpected Gifts. I was able to take a trip to Boston with four days where I didn’t have to stress over family or work—I could just have fun with dear friends and sleep. Again, let me say how fantastic my friends have been to me. Oh my word! There really aren’t words…just amazing. AND I got to see NEEDTOBREATHE three times in 2010! (Now my boys are moving on to bigger and better venues and my budget may not allow many more trips to see them, but I’m proud to “know” them.) Generosity and Grace. Our family has received many gifts this year. Friends who have reached out, felt a desire to help, and met our needs—even when no one knew about the need. Interesting how that works out. We are so blessed to have such wonderful friends! Humility. It is difficult to accept gifts, especially when you can’t see how you deserve them. Of course, the reality is that I don’t deserve them, but it’s humbling just the same and I have truly felt loved.


I do have so much to be thankful for. I would be an absolute idiot not to focus on those things! I experienced some major heartbreak this year, but I’m looking forward to starting over— at the very beginning—in 2011. There were some extremely lonely times and dark places, but I know those have a purpose. Some lessons have been learned and some have yet to sink in, but this I know: I’m ready to get on with my life.

For 2011, it is really time for something new. So, I commit my energy to a new start. This year, I will:


keep my heart unlocked
see first the good in all people
search for truth
look for the light
breathe
and believe.



My hope is for my friends and family to have an absolutely audacious 2011. Here’s to new beginnings: living with veracity, loving fearlessly, and laughing hysterically!


Here we go...
Melissa

Whatcha Gonna Do

I haven’t written in so long simply because I didn’t want to. It’s been too difficult... a jumbled mess with strings of words that just don’t fit together to make anything coherent. It’s frustrating and disheartening, but it’s my life right now.

It’s just a very strange season in my life right now.

Up
Down
All around
Walking in the dark
Finding my way through
As if under a blindfold
I reach for familiar but feel nothing
Back
Forth
Stop and go
Wishing for a light
A glimpse of golden beams
Dancing on the horizon
As if under a blindfold
I reach for familiar but feel nothing
Blink
Blink
Eyes wide open
Eyes wide shut
No difference does it make
There is nothing to see
Nothing to feel
Cold
Black
Empty.

Lost in the Familiar

Funny story:  I actually got lost on the way to work the other morning.  I know, weird.  It all started due to a conversation with a friend who was telling me there may be a more direct route for me to get to work in the morning.  So, naturally, I decided to try the new route.  

Well don’t you know I missed a piece of the directions, the bit where I should have stayed straight and not merged left.  I’m not sure how far I drove, but as I drove, I quickly realized that it wasn’t correct.  I also quickly assessed that I should not pull over or stop to ask for directions.  So I kept on driving, determined to find something familiar.  Hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel, I was set.  As the scenery past by, I grew increasingly aware that I was not where I needed to be.  Compliment the awareness of being lost with the dense fog; I couldn’t see the city- which is typically my guide.  Thankfully, I finally spotted the sign for a familiar road, turned in the direction I thought I needed to go, and made my safely back around the world to get to work.

This morning, as I sat outside on the deck at dawn—a slight breeze blowing around me, the sun just starting to think about rising, I started laughing.  My story is funny in typical Melissa fashion.  But it occurred to me that it is common in my life. 

I know the directions, I know how to get from point A to point B AND I can follow directions—despite what the preceding story says.  But how often do I get turned around and refuse to stop?  Now sometimes it just isn’t safe to stop; sometimes it makes sense to keep driving until you see something familiar.  But when we get lost in the familiar- a place that you know and know well, what then?

Those thoughts led me down a trail and a thought of “Lost in the familiar”.    I think that sums up the way I have felt at times in my life.   My circumstances, environment, situation—all are familiar.   Those things don’t cause me alarm or discomfort.  But when I get lost in those familiar places, what then? 

And in our confusion, we set our minds so tightly to not stopping for directions, not regrouping, not refocusing—surely something familiar will come along.  We grip the wheel as tight as we can and we think our sheer determination will get us to where we need to be even though we are lost.  I don’t think determination is really what drives us.   It benefits us; it can be a positive and useful tool.  But what happens when our determination leads us so far off the path that we have no idea where we are? 

I do think there are times in life when we need to stay focused, keep our hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel and use that determination to our benefit.  I think there are times when you can’t see where you’re going and the storms are raging all around and you if you just stay the course, you’ll get where you’re going.

What about getting where you need to be?  Not getting where you’re going, but getting where you need to be?  That must be what getting lost in the familiar looks like.   My determination can get me where I’m going any day.  So can a map or GPS.  But getting where I need to be isn’t that easy.

Oh this isn’t coming out as easily as I had hoped it would.  Does it make sense to anyone?  The whole concept of getting lost in the familiar? 

Another example for me, from personal experience of getting lost in the routine, would be getting lost in my faith.  It can become so comfortable, routine, second nature and the routine gets us where we’re going.  But what happens when you become lost in the familiar?  Everything you thought you knew, everything familiar, and comfortable, all of the sudden become unknown.

Speaking honestly from my heart:  I’ve served through my church for 20 of my 32 years of life.  It’s a part of me; a huge part of who I am.  I have served the Church of the Nazarene for over 30 years, but now I’m lost in the familiar.  I’m lost in the antiquated, archaic system.  This beloved church that I have so diligently and whole heartily served is no longer comfortable to me.  I’m lost in the one place that I thought I knew. 

I suppose that can happen when you serve a building or an institution.  I suppose that can happen when you rely on getting where you’re going instead of where you need to be.  All those years, all that time—given freely.  I wanted to serve, but what now?  The very institution I have served no longer knows I exist.  What now?

Being lost in the familiar really stinks. 

Oh, don’t worry, I’m not depressed.  I’m just trying to figure out how to get un-lost. 

Thankfully my Father gives really good directions…