Sunday, March 11, 2012
Our Place in the Water
Today would have been Bill's 43rd birthday. It's a good day. A day to celebrate a father and a husband, a brother and a son. We are so blessed to have so many happy memories of him to share. I am so thankful for all of the kind thoughts and prayers of those who have commented and posted on facebook. Thank you so much for sharing his special day!
I decided to take advantage of our earlier-than-usual spring weather and went for a walk this morning. I took a different route than usual, choosing the muddy, pothole-ridden path of dirt road that winds around the back of the lake. It was a bit more challenging than the smooth paved road I normally walk, but I figured it would be more conducive to quiet meditation: fewer cars, fewer people to feel obligated to connect with. I just wanted some quiet time alone...
I pulled up one of my favorite Nichole Nordeman songs called "River God" and listened to it a few times. I have liked this song for many years and have heard it performed beautifully in a way that touched my heart by a friend from long ago. Once in a while I listen to it and realize the words will always ring true throughout my life on this earth.
Have you ever held a "river rock?" These are rocks that have become completely sanded and smoothed by years of water and sand washing over them as they lay in the deep river bed, or ocean bay, depending on where you are...River rocks are almost soothing to the touch, aren't they? They are a pleasure to hold and run your fingers along, unlike rocks found on other terrain. The latter have rough sides and sometimes sharp, jagged edges. Trying to "pet" a rock like that won't bring much pleasure or peace--at best maybe a scratch or two.
The song address the topic of change. Not the sudden "turn your world upside-down and you've got to do something about it right now" kind of change, but rather the type of change that takes a lifetime to really embrace. It's been five years since my world changed rather drastically on a dime, and I've spent that time trying desperately to seek, find, and conquer the changes that I need and want to happen in my life. Often I try to look back and reflect on a period of a few weeks or months to find evidence of good changes in my attitudes and habits and reactions to things. And I get impatient at my apparent "lack of results."
In her song, Nichole speaks of God being the one who occasionally picks up and inspects the river stones, feeling them for more rough edges and cracks, and carefully settling them back into the deep of the riverbed, to endure more time of rushing icy waters and the refining abrasive sand. Maybe I've been trying to do too many inspections by myself. And maybe by doing so, I'm not giving myself enough time to be "weathered" by the elements God put in my path. Perseverance...my teacher, my annoying, nagging teacher. I'm not a very willing student. I've always been a more "product-oriented" person who gains more satisfaction and gratification in the completion of something, rather than the "process-oriented" types who gain more from the process and are often fulfilled long before the end (if they even bother to finish). But I can't help feeling like I'm taking myself out of the process too often, too soon, to appreciate the subtle changes that actually are happening.
Picture yourself back in school, sitting at a desk in one of the most boring, tedious classes you ever had to endure. You are fortunate enough to be sitting near an open window, and you can sense the world awakening just outside: spring birds chirping, chattering about where to build their nests; the smell of clean on the light breeze blowing in and across the room; the shadows of your hand being cast on your school desk by the warm, inviting sun. But you look impatiently at the clock on the wall, and you realize you've just barely sat down and have almost an hour to wait to leave. Sometimes I feel like this classroom is my world, with God as my teacher. Don't get me wrong--God's the best teacher there is. But well, let's be honest...sometimes He goes on and on about subjects we'd rather not listen to. And there can be SO much homework! Sometimes it seems as though I'll never get a passing grade in this course and I'll be doomed to repeat it over and over, taking and failing the same tests. Won't I ever get any smarter? Won't I ever get to move up to the advanced learner's group? How about spring break or summer vacation? I don't know about you, but I can get pretty tired of learning lessons, and really just want to bust open the school doors and run free on the playground. Heck, most days I'd even settle for a hall pass--just a quick study hall or lunch break, please? Thankfully, I do get to have those, thanks to my wonderful teens who give me the opportunity to "run away and play" for the day with one of my many amazing friends. I am so grateful for those passes, aren't you?
Yes, vacations would be great, but I know that I can be a stubborn child who just thinks she can't learn anymore and succumbs to allowing the dog to eat her homework so she doesn't have to think about it for another day or two...or ten. I am so grateful to have a teacher who has invested His whole life in me. And since He's lived for so long, I know He knows a thing or two about patience...and change...And I know he sees changes in me long before I can sense them myself. And when I do chance to catch a glimpse of those changes, I realize that I am not static, even if I can't feel myself moving in the water. We can't ever hope to change the shape of the water, but we can definitely feel the water changing and molding us. And so that is where I am willing to stay, even if the water is colder than my liking and the view from down here is rather murky. Even if the occasional bit of dirt gets into my eye. I think if I try hard enough, I can feel a bit of softening around some of my rougher edges...
I once lamented to the heavens that I would never feel good enough, that I would never have accomplished everything that I was meant to do, and that I was a hopeless case. The answer was instant: "Well, Kim, if you had already done all I set out for you to do, then you'd be up here, now wouldn't you?" Oh...that's right...I guess the teacher really does know best...
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
The Five Year Milestone
Well, I decided it was time to visit my blog and sweep out the cobwebs and visit all my blog followers (if there are any of you left--I know it's been a very long time)...
First of all, I want to comment on the video I just posted below. This song has been a source of hope for me in the past few years. It is so blunt--the cry of helplessness, of loneliness, and ultimately of hope. I think it fits where I have been and continue to be...in the shelter of His wings, being carried through the storms of life, protected from its fits and rages. Sometimes I am stupid enough to walk away--to think that Christ is not enough to make me better or whole. I have been stubborn and demanding, like a child, but instead of the punishment I so often deserve, I only feel grace that I do not deserve...
So here I am--here my family is--5 years "out" as they say. What do I say about this? I confess that over the past year I have barely taken any time to truly stop and meditate on things. Eight children with burgeoning schedules and demands, being "on-call" literally 24/7, has the effect of numbing exhaustion after a while. Don't get me wrong, being distracted with my amazing, talented, loving kids is a HUGE blessing. They keep my focus where it should be most of the time. But this past year literally feels like a blur--I am simultaneously preparing for driver's ed with one child, and potty-training another, and everything in between. I'm still waiting for Christmas...seriously...didn't see it come or go this year; it was just a blink of the eye.
And so I must confess here that it was, at times, quite convenient that I didn't have time to think about the past and about missing Bill. I have met many widows/widowers over the past five years, and even amongst them I often feel like some sort of twisted pioneer. No, there is definitely no rule book for this one. I read about their heartaches and pain, their anger and fears, and I have shared most, if not all, of those feelings...I wonder if any of them feel this strange sense of living two lives. I had my life with Bill, years of marriage and babies and business ventures, times shared with my very best friend and lover. And now I have a second life...the one that has been a crash course in learning how to run a household and family as a single mom. I look in the mirror and don't see the same person I saw six years ago. Yes, unfortunately I see more lines on my face and ever-tired eyes and a few gray hairs sneaking their way through my hair, but it's more than that. I am different deep inside.
And while we are on confessions, I am ashamed to say that I don't dwell on thoughts of him, or even have many dreams about him. Most of the dreams I do have of Bill are not pleasant ones. They are all versions of the same theme: For some unexplained reason, he is suddenly alive and well again, and just, well, "there" in my world. And I am searching for some way to explain to friends and family that he's back. And I am struggling to find a place for him in my new life. Sometimes I'm downright angry with him for coming back now. Upon waking, the painful truth was clear: He doesn't fit into this new life, and that makes me feel so guilty. I hear the cries of my fellow grievers, willing to give anything to have their loved ones back. I felt that way for the longest time. But now I wrestle with the reality that he would not find the same woman he married. I am not saying that I am better without him-not at all! But I am different. Out of necessity. Out of the desire to see where I am supposed to go; become who I am supposed to be. I have believed from the very beginning of this journey that God has had something special planned for me. Something that I obviously could not do with Bill here on earth (otherwise, he would still be here). I remember looking heavenward and saying, "Alright, God, I don't know what you were thinking when you ripped my life apart, but now it's up to You to piece it back together." And He has...and continues to grow me and stretch me in ways I never thought possible.
But back to the "Five Year Mark." What is it about we humans that we tend to view our lives in roughly five-year blocks? Year four passed pretty uneventfully, but now comes that ominous "Year Five." I have pondered over the five-year milestones in my life, and found, ironically, at almost every fifth year, there was a big event centered around it: At five years old, my parents divorced and my world was rocked (for the first time). At 10, we survived the "Blizzard of '78" on a highway across Ohio. At 15, I found myself halfway across the world, leaving my mom for the first time, living with my dad for the first time, and changing the way I viewed the world forever. At 20 I was "Just Married" and beginning another chapter of my life. At 25, we moved into a new town and into our first real home. By the time I was 30, Bill was working in Boston and for the first (and last) time, we had more than enough money to pay the bills and to save for the future. 35 found me working full-time as a transcriptionist and venturing into a home business with Bill. Then I only got a 3-year breather before all hell broke loose.
And so at this next notch in my post of life, I look back and am just so amazed at all that has happened in those short years. I have never felt so much joy and so much pain as I have in these years. I have never questioned my mortality and my purpose more. I have never felt more love, support and blessings from the people in my life and from God as I have in these past five years. I have watched the world change right before my eyes...dear friends whose hearts have been broken, others who have passed onto eternity. My children are growing up faster than any pervasive weed. At times, I feel like I've surely aged 10 years instead of five.
In these short years, I have learned how to manage my finances, do my own taxes, refinance a house, oversee home improvement projects, and haggle with different insurance companies. I have had to humble myself to accept financial aid from the government, family, and friends. I have had to accept that I can never, ever repay all the kindnesses and sacrifices people have made for me and my family, to secure our survival. I have felt love's flutterings and stings, and came out better for it. I have come to the realization that I can do nothing completely by myself, but that I can truly "do all things through Christ who strengthens me."
But here comes a wonderful realization: I may have two very different parts in my life that seem to be at odds. But we are a culmination of all of our experiences, right? God was preparing me for this from a very long time ago. His gift to me was not just the events that shaped me, but the people who walked alongside me through the years. Bill may not seem to fit into my present world, but he, unknowingly and lovingly, helped prepare me for the journey. We laughed, we loved, we fought, we forgave, and we grew together. And he showed me that it was all right to take risks, to make mistakes, to face my fears. He gave me courage. He gave me compassion. And oh, did he give me patience! :) He gave me eight beautiful children to love and who love me back. He gave me the best years of his life. I am so very, very blessed to have had the gift of his love for so many years. Because of who I was with him, I can be who I am called to be now. He always knew I could do it, and now I am trying to feel that I truly can...
So now comes the question that inquiring minds want to know...Where do I see myself in five years? I wish I knew. I would like to think that great accomplishments will be made. That I will have at least three children graduated and venturing out into the world. That I will have established myself in art or photography or something I am passionate about. That my family will be flourishing and happy and healthy. That I will be taking much better care of myself: physically, emotionally, spiritually. And I truly hope that God has another person in mind for me to share the next leg of this journey with. But I don't yet have a clue...I guess you will all have to stay tuned...
I want to end this by sharing a few music videos that have helped me put a voice to the ups and downs of the past five years. I hope they inspire you to think, to forgive, to let go, to love...as I have...
Thank you, thank you, THANK you, my friends, for your faithfulness, encouragement and love. Each one of you has played a part at some point in my life to mold me into who I am today. I am ever grateful to you, and to God, who's love never changes...
Kim
Lost
Yet I Will Praise You
We Live
Your Grace Still Amazes Me
Sand
Think Good Thoughts
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)